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"Divorced?" Maura licked her lips as she glanced around the room before settling her gaze once again on Addison. "I'm sorry to hear that. Derek was…"

But Addison merely waved a hand to stop her. "Self important was the term I think you might have once used. But it's old news; I'm sorry we haven't kept in touch."

"You broke up with me for him," Maura said quietly, more to herself than anything. "I'm sorry too, and it's hardly as if we can blame your going to the West Coast." They had stopped trying long before that. But Maura shook it out of her mind as she turned to the autopsy sinks. It was a long time ago.

"Hey…" Addison reached out and touched her shoulder, making Maura take in a quick breath. "Thanks for the scrubs… Naturally, I'd end up speaking at a convention in Boston where someone was murdered, and naturally I'd end up getting coffee spilled all over me when giving my statement."

Maura could see her bemused smirk without having to turn around. She smiled as she looked down at her hands, taking a moment of pause before turning. "I sent the dress to the cleaners…don't worry, I reviewed several places before picking them for my own needs."

"You always were meticulous…" Addison shook her head, read hair falling over her shoulders. She looked good in the black scrubs, but Maura hadn't grabbed them haphazardly. She had simply failed to estimate just how good Addison would look. "But I don't think I've ever done better shopping with anyone else."

"We did have some good shopping trips, didn't we?" Gorgeous clothes on a gorgeous woman. Maura distinctly remembered how some of the pieces had looked on the dressing room floor. But even as they were both clothed in the simpler garb of their respective trades, Maura found herself being pulled in again by Addison. "You always looked good in just about anything," she murmured as she fingered a crease in Addison's shirt. "Except yellow…" She distinctly heard the redhead's breath catch. "I hated you in yellow."

"And you…" Addison caught her hand, and Maura looked more directly up at her, aware that they were now moving closer. "You were never shy about letting me know."

"You were never shy," Maura whispered as their lips met.

It might have been a dressing room door ten years before, but Maura felt herself being pushed against the sinks this time; she did nothing to discourage the growing fever of Addison's kisses. Addie had always been impulsive and maybe a little too spoiled. It made Maura wary of her at first, and she had been right to think that way. In the end, she was the one who ended up alone.

But Maura was learning to be impulsive. Ten years the wiser, she could appreciate this for what it was—a relived memory—and she told herself that she could engage without letting it hurt. The feel of Addison's skin as she ran her hands underneath the scrub top, up her back, kept her from thinking past that.

She tugged at the top, breaking the kiss only long enough to draw it up and off of Addison's torso. Her own desire was pulsing between her legs as the edge of the sink bit into her back. And Addison was moaning when Maura pinched one of her nipples, rolling it between her fingertips.

"My scrubs look good on you." Maura's voice was thick. She pushed Addison back a step and worked open the hastily tied knot in the drawstring of the pants. Addie was stepping out of them before they had completely fallen, and they looked just as good on the floor. "Silk," she murmured, touching the front of Addison's panties gingerly with her fingertips.

The redhead shuddered almost too violently. "You could always…mm…God, Maura…" she moaned as she grabbed Maura's wrist and pushed her hand flush against herself.

The fabric of the scrubs she was wearing was soft from repeated washings. Maura found it comfortable, but she was always aware of the quality. It seemed irksome now with Addison so displayed in front of her. It seemed too much as she pushed the redhead's panties aside, moaning when she found her wet underneath her curls.

But she merely kissed Addison again, unwilling to throw caution so much to the wind that she ended up exposed once again. And until she was satisfied, Addison really wouldn't think about it. Even then, Maura could already imagine her dressing as she fumbled for words and repeatedly pushed her falling hair behind her ears. She would ask for the name of the dry cleaners. She would say that they should get coffee. And when the police told her that she could go, that they would call her in California if they needed anything else, she would disappear—probably into someone else's waiting arms.