Chapter 4

Alex awoke in the afternoon, a little disoriented. The morning had been a blur, a couple of unpleasant trips to the bathroom and then she'd fallen asleep under the covers and slept like a stone most of the day.

She rolled over and gasped at how sore her muscles were. She'd been thinking about trying to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water, but now it seemed like more effort than it was worth.

With tremendous willpower, she managed it. She drank two large gulps of water in the kitchen and managed to carry the glass back to the bedroom in a shaky hand. She wondered briefly how Bobby was doing with the case, and then sleep claimed her once more.

Bobby had to wrangle with the ADA for a few hours before he was granted a search warrant. The warrant only specified the clothing, specifically outerwear, that Marla Faust had been wearing the night Hugh Paloma had died.

She complained that she would have nothing to protect her from the elements on the way home, but Bobby was a step ahead of her. He'd already procured a warm coat for her on the department's bill. She accompanied the team to her apartment, and watched while they bagged all of the clothes from her hamper. For good measure, they took the thinner coats in her closet, but Bobby was confident what he needed would be found inside the woolen one she'd worn to work that day.

Alex wasn't answering. Two days until Christmas, and she was as sick as a dog. Unable to get hold of her, Bobby's imagination went wild. He was worried.

His brain rehashed the old argument about what was acceptable and what was not, but in the end, his worry got the best of him. He parked the Mustang on the curb and jogged to her door, only to find her keys frozen in the knob.

With one hand, he drew his weapon. With the other, he firmly pulled the keys from the lock and dropped them inside his coat pocket. Bobby kept his weapon in front of him and gently opened her door. He walked stealthily through the apartment, checking for intruders.

As quiet as he was, Alex heard movement. With her heart racing, she stretched out her hand and withdrew her backup piece from the nightstand. Too weak to search out her intruder, she pushed her back against the headboard and waited for the inevitable confrontation.

She steadied her arms in aim as her bedroom door opened slowly. All she saw was the weapon at first, a Glock just like her service piece. The weapon lowered and her door opened fully.

"Alex, thank God you're okay," Bobby breathed.

Her weary arms dropped to the mattress, the heavy gun useless under them. "Bobby, you scared the crap out of me."

He held up her keys. "You left them in the door, outside. Anybody could have come in here."

She closed her eyes, realizing he was right and thanking God for all the good people in the world, who didn't waltz into her apartment and rob, rape or kill her while she slept. Then Alex pooled her strength and went to retrieve the gun and replace it in the drawer.

Bobby's Glock was already in its holster. He took care of her backup piece for her, asking with his expression and following her pointing finger to the drawer in the nightstand where he tucked it away, safety on.

She was crawling back down under the sheet, savoring the softness of the mattress beneath her.

He straightened the twisted sheets and tucked her in, noting that though she was still pale, there was a flush in her skin tone that hadn't been there yesterday. He snuck the back of his hand in and felt her forehead.

"Well?" she demanded quietly.

"Feverish," he said. "How you doing?" Bobby lowered himself to sit on the mattress beside her prone body.

"Actually, I think I'm better. At least, I'm conscious and I don't feel like puking."

He smiled and gently drew her bangs away from her eyes. "What can I get you?" he asked.

"Water."

Happily, Bobby got to his feet and hurried to her kitchen, taking the stale glass of water from the nightstand with him.

He returned a few minutes later, and she peered at him from her nest of blankets. "Water, and soup," he announced.

"Oh, I don't think I can eat," she groaned as she slowly sat up.

"Humor me and try."

"You weren't here the last time I tried to eat something."

"That was a long time ago. You're feeling better now."

She drank deeply from the water, and then handed him the glass. Taking the cup of soup from his hand, she paused. The smell accosted her and she stared at it, wondering if she should risk it. Finally, Alex ate a spoonful of the soup, then a few more. At last, she handed Bobby the cup.

"If that comes back up, you're gonna have to clean up the mess," she warned him.

Bobby grinned. "Gladly," he said.

The next thing she knew, he was wiping her forehead, her cheeks, her neck with a cool washcloth. Alex arched her neck, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation.

"I was really worried about you," Bobby said quietly. "When you-you didn't answer."

"Phone died," she explained. "I was too tired to go find the charger."

He gave her a half-smile. "That explains it."

"Did you solve the case?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Marla. She gave him the kiss of death."

"Huh?"

"She had some peanut butter cookies in her coat pocket. She ate them, and then she kissed him."

"And the cuts?"

"After the kiss. She confessed to everything. She watched him struggling to breathe, and she told him how he'd disrespected her by dating Marsha, and then she cut him, adding to his agony in the minutes before he died."

Alex shivered, and Bobby moved to tuck the blankets tighter around her. She motioned him away. "I'm all right," she said. For a moment, the two stared at each other. Alex shook her head slightly. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I told you. I was worried."

"And now?"

"Now? I'm… relieved."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." His chocolate eyes locked onto hers. His mind ran through the old arguments again, and he finally shook his head, running his long fingers through his gray curls. "Where exactly is the line, Alex?"

"Huh?"

"The line… that can't be crossed."

Now her gaze burned against his. "Between us, you mean."

He nodded.

Alex shifted wearily and sighed. "Bobby, I think it's like that line where the ocean meets the sand. Constantly shifting."

He nodded again, in complete understanding. "I th-think so too."

Another few moments of intense staring followed, and then Alex spoke. "Thank you for clearing the apartment for me."

He shook off her gratitude. "You'd do the same for me."

"And for the soup."

Bobby smiled, and she smiled to see the twinkle in his eyes. "It's not making a reappearance," he said.

"I feel a lot better."

His hand closed over hers, and he gently stroked it with his large thumb. Finally, Bobby leaned over and pressed his lips to her hot forehead. "Good night, Eames," he said. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Night, Bobby," she said with a dreamy smile.

He turned off her light and made sure her kitchen was clean and everything she might need was within easy reach.

Then Bobby Goren locked himself out and drove a very cold Mustang home.