Eames closed her front door forcefully after the last CSU technician left. "I need to get out of here," she said, still facing the door. It sounded as though she was talking through clenched teeth.

Bobby had been impressed with her self control. As the techs swarmed through her home, Eames crossed her arms and quietly watched, responding tersely but civilly when they had questions. He knew she was livid, but she kept a calm exterior.

It was bad: they'd found Mulrooney's fingerprints just about everywhere. He'd focused his attention on her personal belongings – her clothing and toiletries – but he'd also gone through her kitchen cabinets, the refrigerator, even her trash.

"We can call a professional cleaning service," Bobby said. "I know somebody in the business." The CSU team had done a rudimentary clean-up, but the surfaces they'd checked for fingerprints still showed black smudges. Throughout the house Eames' possessions were displaced and dirty.

"I feel like burning it all," she said.

Bobby wanted to hold her, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't welcome any tenderness just now. When she turned back toward him the anger in her eyes confirmed that she needed an outlet for her fury. An idea popped into his head.

"Let's, um," he said. "Let's go to the batting cages."

She barked out a laugh, but wouldn't smile. "I would have said the shooting range, but that's a good idea, too. I still feel like burning everything he touched. I want to know how the hell he got my access code. The techs said his prints were on the alarm keypad unit – only on the right numbers!"

"He must have been watching you," Bobby said. "I think... from the house for sale across the street – it's empty... We need to get a warrant to check for his prints there, too."

She rubbed her forehead and shook her head angrily. "Damn!"

He checked the time. It was nearly one o'clock; they'd had coffee and bagels on their way to her home, and nothing since. He was glad to work with her on the clean-up, but at the moment he was certain she had to be feeling as hungry as he was. A decent meal would improve her spirits. A few steps toward reclaiming her home might help, too.

"Um..." He thought quickly. "Give me a minute," he said, striding to the kitchen. He opened the dishwasher and started stacking in plates, glasses and utensils.

Eames watched him from the doorway. "That's enough - don't overload it," she called. "Why are you doing that, since I don't have clean cabinets or drawers to put them away? The soap's in the cabinet under the sink." She pointed to Bobby's left.

Bobby got the machine started and turned to her. "You can use them right out of the dishwasher for now. And..." He waved his hand in the direction of her bedroom. "Your clothes. Pick what you need for a couple days, and we'll take them to the dry cleaners for one-hour service. Do you have a drop-off bag?"

She nodded briefly and started down the hallway. But at her bedroom door she halted. "I feel like that guy from 'My Fair Lady'," she said, "who keeps saying, 'Damn! Damn! Damn!'"

"Henry Higgins," Bobby replied. "It's really from a play: Pygmalion."

"Seriously, Bobby, look at this disaster area. Where do I even start?" Eames spread her arms wide. "The bed linens, the comforter, all the stuff in my closet! Between Mulrooney and the CSU's, I'm not using any of it till it's washed or dry-cleaned, and even then... Oh my God, he used my make-up!"

She took a step toward her dresser, and pressed both fists to her mouth. "I'm... my skin is crawling. If they find his prints on my toothbrush, so help me...!" She looked over her shoulder at Bobby – she was furious. "Get a trash bag – it's all got to go."

By the time he returned Eames had donned latex gloves and was grimly picking through items on her dresser. The tension that had gripped her throughout the investigation was back in full force. He held the plastic trash bag as she dropped in brushes, make-up and lotions. She only kept things that seemed unopened or were washable.

Eames reached for the wedding photo of her and Joe. The black dust showed fingerprints all over the frame and glass – probably Mulrooney's. For a second, Bobby thought she might throw it into the trash bag, but she darted around him to the bathroom. She reemerged with a damp face cloth, wiping the picture thoroughly.

"It's time to put this away, I guess," she said. "I actually stopped looking at it a long time ago; it was just habit to keep it there, you know?"

Bobby took the photo from her to look at the image of a young, carefree, smiling Alex. She was still beautiful now, though not as carefree. He handed it back to her. "You'll never forget Joe."

Eames nodded as she carefully laid the frame face up on the bed. "I still love him, but... I don't miss him any more. Come on, I have to clear out the medicine cabinet." She looked at Bobby with a frown.

As they filled the trash bag she fluctuated between cursing Mulrooney and reminiscing about Joe until her phone rang.

"Eames," she said, and mouthed the word "Captain" to Bobby. "They left about twenty minutes ago..." Her eyes flashed angrily. "Everywhere in the house... Okay, I will." She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "...I don't think that's– ...Yes, sir... I understand..." She looked angry again. "He's helping me clean up the mess the CSU team left... I'll tell him... Yes, sir."

She snapped her phone closed. Bobby had a good guess what the Captain had told Eames, but he waited for her to speak. He was still holding the trash bag; he tied it off and took it to the kitchen to go out.

She stood in the kitchen entrance, a hand pressing against each side of the doorframe. "I've been removed from the case," she said.

Bobby used his foot to push a kitchen chair back into place. "Why bother, when we already made an arrest?"

"Because I'm now a victim," she said, with bitter emphasis. "You get to be senior partner, and Ross will sign off as your supporting detective – on all the paperwork I typed up!"

"Sorry. It's, it doesn't-"

"Meanwhile, Mulrooney gets the satisfaction of knowing he made me look weak to the NYPD once again."

"No, Alex..."

"Look, let's just get out of here."

Their eyes met for a few moments. Bobby understood the captain's desire to avoid the appearance of impropriety, but it was too late to make the change. Eames had worked the entire investigation - it was impossible to pretend she hadn't.

"Okay." He turned to the sink to wash his hands. "We should get something to eat," he said. "You choose the place."

He was still rinsing his hands when Eames pushed against his side and stuck her hands under the faucet to begin washing, too.

"Don't use that towel," she said, nodding her head toward the one hanging near the sink. "Get a clean one from that drawer. Oh, damn! If there is a clean one, that is. I really, really hate this!"

Bobby pulled out a fresh dish towel, which did look clean. He dried his hands and handed the towel to her. He stayed at her side, rubbing her back lightly.

"I'm just so..." she said, exhaling loudly. "I have the worst headache - and I just threw away all my ibuprofen and aspirin!"

"We'll, um, stop at the drug store first; then we'll get something to eat." He fingered the ends of her hair, pleased when she didn't pull away or stop him.

"No: drug store first, then the dry cleaners," she said, "then your friend's cleaning business, and then we eat."

"Do you still want to go to the batting cages?"

"Definitely – I need to hit something. And I need to eat - I'm starving. And I have to get this place inhabitable again." She patted his stomach. "If I'm starving, you must be, too – I stole part of your bagel this morning."


"It's no trouble," Bobby said. "I'll stay a while, and we can-"

"No, it's okay," Eames said. "There's not much I can do until tomorrow, when the cleaners finish... I hope. They're going to have to do some serious magic here."

They'd cleaned enough space in her kitchen to sit at the table and eat their take-out supper. Eames now had new make-up, toiletries and clean clothes to get through several days. She'd decided to stay in a hotel for one more night. A representative from the cleaning service had come and made an estimate of the work to be done; he'd promised to have a team here the next morning.

Bobby was reluctant to leave. It didn't matter that their day together hadn't run smoothly – Eames had vented her anger on him a few times. He understood her frustration and was glad she trusted him. She'd been less lavish with touching and flirting than last night. He didn't care. It felt wonderful to be able to help her and spend personal time with her.

"How – how about if we check for canned goods and things you can keep?" he asked. "You don't have to throw everything out."

"Bobby, I talked to the guy about that. The cleaners will take care of it." She stood up. "I'd just as soon get out of here until it feels like home again."

"Right." Bobby didn't want to insist. It wasn't about cleaning the house – he was simply hoping to spend more time with her. He slowly rose from the table.

She slipped on her coat. "So, tomorrow... Ross told me I could take the day, but I might as well come in. Forget what he said about taking me off the case. I can get him to change his mind."

"You always do," he said with a smile. He admired his partner's ability to defy their Captain without setting off his temper. Bobby reached for his coat, sorry that their time together was ending. "So, um, I'll see-"

"It's kind of early," she said. "Do you want to go to a movie or something?"

What? Bobby spun to look at her. "A movie? You mean... Um, a movie?"

"Yeah, I'll stay at the Best Western in town, and there's a movie theater a little ways down the street from it."

Bobby felt his mouth hanging open; he closed it. She wasn't sending him away? "O-Okay, uhh..."

She grinned at him and came closer. "Bobby, did you think I would kick you out just like that?" She rested her hands on his arms. "Thanks for staying and getting me through this day. I probably wouldn't have actually burned down the house, but I felt angry enough to do it. By the way, if you're so eager to help, I'm going to be doing a ton of laundry this weekend."

Once again acting on impulse, Bobby slid his arms around Alex. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her mouth.

Once again, Alex kissed him in return but drew back before he was ready to stop.

"Easy there," she said, touching her fingers to his lips. "Save that for when we're at the movie."


THE END