Author's Notes: Formatting Issues – text in italics are thoughts, unless it within dialog, and then it's just a form of emphasis. Text in bold is strong emphasis, i.e. shouting.

Chapter One - Feelin' About as Faded as Her Jeans

Alex knew the minute she turned into the curve that she was going to lose control. Instinctively she spun the wheel in the opposite direction, correcting the car's slide but not before she bounced off the curb and heard and felt the distinctive pop of a tire blowing.

She slowed down to a crawl and hobbled along the darkened street until she could safely pull over, putting the car in park and cutting the engine.

She sat for a minute, the heavy rain pounding down on the roof of the cheap rental car. Of course it would be in monsoon weather like this when her trusty little Honda would break down and she'd be in this rented piece of crap.

She gave the steering wheel a good pound with both fists before clenching it tight, her knuckles going white with tension. She blinked back tears that had been threatening all day.

The perfect fucking ending to the perfect fucking day.

She shook off the emotions and reached for her purse. With no police radio in the rental car she needed her cell. Flipping it open she paused for a moment, frowning at the display. She moved down the list of her contacts and finally pressed the speed dial for One Police Plaza.

"This is Alex Eames, Major Case. Yes, Officer Barrett, I'm having some car trouble. No I'm not in my usual vehicle. Can you send a tow for me? A flat. I was on my way home—" There was a burst of static and Alex pulled the phone from her ear to look at the display. It was powering down.

Just. Fucking. Great.

No radio, now no cell, and, of course, her car charger was in her car. Alex took a deep breath and rested her head on the steering wheel, trying to clear her mind so she could deal with this situation.

She had a few options. She could change the flat herself, she could hobble along until she found a service station, or she could wait it out and hope that she'd given Barrett enough info for them to find her.

She pressed her nose to the side window, trying to get a better view out into the murky darkness. It was two in the morning and the street she was on was empty, the rain still coming down steady and hard. There was no way she wanted to get out of the car in this downpour and struggle with a tire iron on the side of the road, and she couldn't think of a service station within a few miles that she could get to. Besides, from the sound of the tire blowing, she knew she would be riding on the wheel rim and she didn't relish risking any more damage to the rental car.

So wait it would be.

Alex leaned back, wrapping her arms around herself, wondering what more could go wrong for her today.

XXXOOOXXX

His cell phone rang, jerking Bobby awake. Yet again he'd fallen asleep in his living room, television remote resting on his chest, an empty beer bottle tucked between him and the back of the sofa.

He reached back over his head, his fingers fumbling for his cell, which he'd placed on the end table before relaxing into an evening of watching a repeat of Forensic Files. He'd made it half-way through the first episode and was snoring by the second.

"Goren. Yes. Where is she? She say she was headed home? No, I know her route. No, no, I'll back-track it and give you all a call when I find her. It's not a problem. I'm sure in this weather you guys have enough to deal with. Thanks for calling."

He closed the phone with a snap, lying there on his back for a moment staring at the ceiling. He heaved a sigh and sat up.

The woman is going to be the death of me, one way or the other.

Bobby shook his head, trying to clearing the sleep away, and rose from the sofa. He grabbed his leather jacket off the chair by the door and pocketed his cell phone before gathering up his keys and heading out.

He trotted down the stairs and out the entrance of his building onto the street. He'd had to park several blocks away, having gotten in so late, but it gave him a chance to clear his head. He was still angry at Alex and wanted to make sure he got himself squared away before he found her.

It just added insult to injury that his partner would waste a call to One Police Plaza when her car broke down, rather than calling him. He knew she'd been pissed with him; almost as angry as he'd been with her. And here she was again, doing exactly what had gotten him angry earlier.

Bobby could feel his back molars grinding against each other and he tried to relax his jaw. His partner was hard-headed and stubborn and could hold a grudge longer than anyone he knew. He'd always known how to back down, work around her temper, and make things right between. But today she'd pushed him past his limits – she'd allowed her anger at him to get in the way of an interrogation and it almost got her hurt.

Bobby ran an agitated hand through his hair as he remembered how he and Ross and two other officers had rushed to pull the suspect off of Eames. She'd come out of the interrogation room unscathed, but Bobby hadn't. He didn't think he'd ever been so frightened. And after the fright had worn off, he didn't think he'd ever been so angry.

He'd tried to confront Alex, but she'd blown him off, grabbing her purse from her desk and darting from the bullpen amidst high-fives and cheers for her success at getting a confession and arrest. Alex had left Bobby standing in her wake, still physically shaking over what could have happened.

And that was Alex's style; brush things off, gloss them over, never admitting to any close-calls or indecision or, god forbid, any weakness. He knew that. And usually he could work within those confines, giving her the hands-off, unemotional approach she needed to get her job done.

But this time he couldn't.

This time had shaken him to the core and, worse still, had driven home to him just how much Alex meant to him. And he wasn't about to let some confession, some arrest record, or some stupid fucking job take that away from him

To Be Continued