Can You Keep a Secret?

By LMR

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I know Dick Wolf, and this is not Dick Wolf. It's like something is wearing Dick Wolf. Like a suit. A Dick Wolf suit. (Groan).

Chapter 3: It's Just Goren

Alex had never been to a Broadway show before. It troubled her some that she didn't know who was sending her: She knew there were thieves who gave tickets then cleaned a place out, but she had always been careful to be friendly with the neighbors, one of the easiest, cheapest security systems there was. She had made sure to mention that she would be out for several hours tonight, and they were attentive, grateful to have a cop in their own hallway. The comfort of that was worth occasionally begging off a request to look up the licence plate number of any idiot that cut one of them off.

But the seats were nice ones, expensive, and it was hard not to worry about who would be spending so much money on her. Isn't that what psycho stalkers do? Well, didn't need to worry about a psycho trying to get her alone. She wouldn't be out with the Mystery Man; just with Goren. Stalkers were possessive: They didn't give gifts that would encourage their prey to go out with another man, even it was just a friend. And no one was going to try to hurt her while she was with tall, dark, and scary. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was comforting to have her partner around, of course, but she had always prided herself on being tough, and she couldn't help but wonder how much of the respect she always got at One Police Plaza she had actually earned, and how much came from a fear of Goren. But she refused to be bitter at him about that. There would always be jerks who would only respect her because she was along with him, and there was no way to ask any cop not to be protective of his partner. He certainly didn't have a claim in the "Don't mess with my partner" department. She smiled briefly remembering the shiner she'd given Officer Campbell when he'd made the mistake of calling Goren a "schizo freak." He hadn't filed any kind of complaint, preferring that no one knew what had actually happened, not to mention that he knew she was right. All she'd gotten was a speech from Deakins about being "disappointed" in her. It had been worth it.

She forced herself to stop reliving happy memories and get back to the fact that she had no idea what to wear for a date on Broadway. No, not a date, she corrected herself. It's just Goren. But there was no "just" about Broadway. Something nice. She picked out a dress; long, elegant dark brown. She wouldn't look like someone trying to be sexy, just someone who couldn't help it. Goren would-

Oh, God. What am I thinking? I want to look unintentionally sexy for Goren? I can't have him: What do I want to do, torture him? I make it hard enough on him already. When I wear a sleeveless shirt, he spends the entire day trying not to look at me. And I'm not even going to try to convince myself that I don't get a kick out of seeing him go undercover in a T-shirt.

I want my partner.

It was a testament to her willpower that she didn't slam her head against the closet door repeatedly yelling "What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?" Alex Eames had always been partnered with a man, and her hormones had never taken her anywhere at all inappropriate. Well, hormones nothing, really. She'd noticed immediately that he was, for lack of a better word, hot. But these feelings hadn't started then. They'd started when she'd fal-

Oh, smeg.

She headed for the closet, determined to get the bulkiest, most covering, and therefore most cruelty-free pantsuit she could find. The doorbell rang, and any thought she'd had of changing went out the window when she saw the man on the other side of the door. She'd been expecting him to dress up (How dressing up from his usual would be possible for him she wasn't sure), and he would have looked good dressed up...

But, damn. He was wearing casual slacks and a simple dress shirt. A short-sleeved dress shirt.

He's ripped. I'm toast.

"I dressed down," he said simply, knowing she was taking in the outfit. "I hope you don't mind?" He started to put his coat on to go outside.

"Um, no," she answered, feeling pathetic for the fact that she had to force her eyes to focus on his face. "I guess I dressed up too much. I've never seen a Broadway show, so..."

"No, that outfit's just fine. My mistake."

"Well, you look nice, anyway," she said, quite sure she had just won the Understatement of the Month award.

He smiled a little. "Thanks." He paused. "If I say you look nice, are you going to thank me or punch me?"

She pretended to think about this for a moment. "Thank you, I suppose, but only because, contrary to popular belief, I can't read your mind." He laughed and she was pleased to see his face turn pink. "Let's go." She grabbed her coat of the hook and slipped it on. It seemed momentarily odd to her that he didn't take her arm. He was worried again, she realized, about being inappropriate. She slipped her arm in his and started walking purposefully toward the door.

Through the show, Goren was maddeningly well-behaved. He kept his irritatingly incredible muscles to himself. Still, she began to think that if her admirer was a stalker, it might well be worth it for this. The show itself was amazing, and though silent and separate, the company was even better. How could she be feeling so up in the air about a man she spent all her time with anyway? Were things really that different now than all day at the crime scenes? No. As she turned the feelings over in her mind, she was sure it was the same. It was the same bond she always felt. Strange how she could focus so well on the cases and perps without being distracted by her attraction. But the work was important and interesting. It was what they both loved to do. And it was the same relationship.

It was because her bond to him wasn't needy for constant reinforcement. There was no ridiculous desire to be clingy or hormonal at work because their connection was solid enough to not be threatened by a distance of two feet. To be honest, if they wanted to, they could probably have an affair with no one the wiser. They could ke-

Tell me that was not what I was about to think!

She looked at him, puzzled. He was completely entranced with the play. She hadn't even begun to consider that she could be sitting next to the admirer that had treated them both to show. Surely Detective Goren wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for his partner, or if he did, to act on it.

Said Miss Pot to Mister Kettle, she thought ruefully. Didn't I just spend the last fifteen minutes trying to convince myself that we could handle this?

As the lights dimmed and flashed, and everyone hurried back to their seats with comfortably emptied bladders. "I should warn you," she ventured. "I have this thing for turning my friends into involuntary pillows in situations like this."

"That's fine. I've done that since middle school." He laughed a little. "I think my friend Vicky thought my name was "hey you, head cushion" all through high school.

"Really," she answered unenthusiastically.

"Well, then she got herself a steady girlfriend, and I was relieved of duty."

"Oh." Alex was certain that the Great Gor-o could tell that every muscle in her body had just relaxed. Well, if the small but bright smile on his face was any indication of what he was poking around for, he could notice whatever he wanted.

Singing bird puppeteers were running to the stage now, and Alex made good on her promise. She made sure to wriggle around in her chair for a few seconds to convey, I'm trying to get comfortable on the seat first before I try you; honest. Then, feigning frustration with her ability to sit unencumbered. She went ahead and leaned her head up against his arm. How considerate of him to wear short sleeves. He didn't seem to find this disagreeable, judging by the fact that he decided the top of her head would make a nice chin rest.

"How was it?" he wondered as they left the show.

"Excellent." The play was pretty darn good, too.

"Yeah, I loved it. So, it was, um, 'unconventional' enough to keep you interested," he prodded as they walked out to the car.

Good grief, doesn't he ever miss anything? She let herself smile up at him in what she hoped was a quasi-enigmatic manner. "Off key to perfection." He grinned.

Then he started explaining the world history of shadow puppetry. Oh, well.

Next time:

I can keep a secret, but I can't keep it from you anymore.

"Ooh," Alex said. "My secret admirer strikes again. A girl could get used to this.