We Need To Talk
"We need to talk." That was what had started the conversation. If it could even be called a conversation. Over the years, Detective Robert Goren had learned what "We need to talk," really meant. "We need to talk," meant she needed to talk. So he graciously let her. They arranged the meeting for after work, at a small bar nearby.
"Goren, why don't you ever tell me things?" Alexandra Eames asked. Now he was thoroughly confused.
"What do you mean?" he said, cocking his head to the side. She sighed.
"You know damn well what I mean. Why don't you ever talk to me? You know, open up!" He smiled.
"There's nothing to tell," he answered simply. "Besides," he began quickly, before she could reply, his voice rising a little, "Why do you always have to seem so tough? Are you trying to prove something? Because, I already respect you, Alex." He finished, barely above a whisper. "I'm not going to think less of you if you relax a little. We're not at work anymore." She glared at him, oblivious that he called her Alex.
"Since when was this talk about me?" she asked. "I was talking about you, and your lack of trust."
"But that's just it!" he replied, leaning closer to her across the table. "How can I be expected to trust you if you don't trust me? Just - relax, Eames." She leaned in.
"Stop analyzing me," she growled. "I'm not a suspect." Now she was whispering, "I'm your partner. And I trust you with my life." Goren conceded the point.
"Did you know I get headaches a lot?" he asked. She smiled. "It's – it's because I – clinch my teeth. And if I – I get a headache that's not because I was, you know, clinching my teeth, I – I'm afraid to close my mouth. I think that – that I'll clinch my teeth and only make my headache - worse." Eames was laughing. "But the worst part is that – that when I keep my jaw slack my – my jaw hurts and makes the headache worse. It's quite a dilemma," he added, chuckling as well.
"I had no idea," she admitted. "I'll remind you not to clinch your teeth from now on." He smiled a smile that quickly faded and was replaced by a much more serious look.
"Are you satisfied?" Goren asked. She nodded. "Let me take you home."
The ride home was spent in laughter as the two exchanged meaningless, harmless facts about themselves. They took turns, each giggling appreciatively at their small confessions. Soon they were at Eames' apartment building, climbing the stairs.
"Why Eames," Goren said laughing, "you've never told me that." She doubled over in laughter, still attempting to climb the steps, when she started to fall. Goren quickly grabbed her, holding her tight and keeping her from falling. "Careful, now," he playfully reprimanded her. But Eames was no longer in the mood for games.
"Thank you," she said and struggled against him, trying to be set free. Goren held on.
"Relax, Alex," he whispered. "Please." She looked at him, finally enjoying the fact that she was in his arms. Before she realized what happened, Goren leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. When they pulled apart, he spoke in a soft, husky voice. "We need to talk." She nodded. When they reached her room she locked the door behind them, then turned to look at Goren.
"Alex…" he started, then stopped. Instead he walked forward, kissed her again and let his lips do the talking.
Fin.
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