For Her Honor

He was so full of adrenaline he didn't even notice his bloody lip or knuckles or the shiner that was starting to color his left eye. His left swung hard, but his opponent moved into him, and instead of landing a punch, they were holding each other, wobbling around the room like some crazy testosterone driven ballroom dance. The guy was shorter than Bobby, and stocky. He had muscles like a tanker truck, and Bobby couldn't wrench himself free from his grip. His back and skull hit the wall, knocking the wind out of him. Bobby dropped to the floor and even with the familiar voice shouting, he was compelled to make one last try. He hurled himself at the man's feet, and he fell hard, taking a chair down with him.

"Bobby, Goddamn it, stop!" Eames was shouting in his ear.

He couldn't breathe; a good enough reason as any to do what she said. He lay on the floor gasping for air and trying to figure out where the guy would hit him next.

Alex cuffed the other man, though, so he didn't have a chance to come after Bobby. She watched him with concern until he started breathing regularly again and then she helped him sit up. "Should I cuff you, too?" She asked. Her voice was gentle, but her expression was not.

"He started it," Bobby said. "But let him go. I shouldn't have…"

Alex gave the man a few wise words before she freed him from the cuffs. He left the bar quickly, leaving Bobby to clean up the mess. Alex helped him right the chairs and move the tables back where they belonged. She sweet talked the bartender into giving her an ice pack, which she handed to Bobby. He looked at her in confusion. She pushed his hand up to his eye, and he held the pack there obediently.

Bobby ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood. "My lip, too?" He asked.

Alex nodded. "I'll bet you've got some other spots, too." She touched his cheek, and he winced. "Are you okay?" She asked him.

"Yeah, I… I think so," Bobby said. He grabbed a bill out of his wallet and left it on the bar to pay for his drinks. "I prob'ly should head home."

"Prob'ly," she agreed.

Alex got him settled in on his couch with a new ice pack, a few bandaids, and a wet washcloth for his lip. She sat back and looked him over. He was a pitiful sight. "Mind filling me in?"

Bobby shook his head. "I don't know, nothing. It was stupid."

"Goren…"

Bobby looked over at her, then looked away. "I don't know, I don't remember." Her frown told him she didn't buy that excuse. "Maybe I hit my head too hard or something, but I don't remember," he lied.

She took a deep breath. "Well, I'm going home. Maybe if your memory comes back you can fill me in tomorrow." She gave him a compassionate smile. "Take care of yourself, Bobby."

"Thanks, Eames." She let herself out.

As Bobby lay staring at the ceiling with one eye, he thought back to what had started the fight.

"Damn," the stocky man had said, eyeing Alex's behind as she walked to the restroom. His next sentence insinuated she was a whore.

Normally, Goren would have fought with his words. Tonight, he'd already had a few and his left hand was faster than his tongue. He grabbed the back of the man's head and smacked it down against the bar as if he were cracking an egg.

Truthfully, Bobby didn't remember much after that, just that he was compelled to keep after the guy, that none of his hits seemed to have punished him enough.

She didn't need him to fight her battles. She probably wouldn't have even cared what the bastard said. She surely would have told Bobby to drop it. But now, with his head throbbing and his lip bleeding and his eye swelling shut, he thought of Alex's gentle hands wiping the blood from his skin, and he smiled around his swollen lip. He fought for her honor, and he felt like a man.

THE END