He entered the tavern and looked around. They were doing a brisk business, not unusual for a Friday night, even in this quiet, out-of-the-way neighborhood. He was intercepted on his way to the bar by the barmaid Eames seemed so jealous of. Her name tag read 'Tawny.' "You're back," she purred.

He nodded. "But just for a couple of drinks. I haven't changed my mind."

She unbuttoned his coat and jacket. "Maybe I can change your mind."

Gently, he pulled her hands away. "Not tonight."

He stepped past her and slid onto an empty barstool, ordering his first drink. In his ever-active mind, he turned over the word 'jealousy.' He wondered if Eames really was jealous, or if something else drove her reaction—or rather, her overreaction—to what she thought she saw Monday night. He reviewed their conversation from the night before. Anger, concern, back to anger. He got the impression her anger was trying to slip away but she was holding onto it, and he wasn't quite sure why. He hated that the conversation had ended on a note of anger. He was even more disturbed by her 'maybe', especially with the spectre of his departure looming ahead of him.

"Why so gloomy, handsome?"

He looked at Tawny. "I have a lot on my mind," he answered.

"Maybe I can help you forget her."

He frowned. "I don't want to forget her. Please...I just need some time alone."

She caressed the back of his hand. "You don't have to be alone.."

"Yes...I do."

He turned his attention back to his drink, thoughts spinning inward, and she reluctantly went about her business.

Logan pulled the door open and let Eames proceed him into the busy bar. He liked this place. It was cozy and inviting, and he thought that maybe by helping her to unwind a little, he could get through to her and convince her that her boyfriend was not in the wrong here. Maybe he could get her to let go of her anger, which he did not understand at all. She wasn't the jealous type, so he had to believe there was something more to it than that. He just had no idea what that something could be.

As was his habit, he looked around the tavern, spotting the working barmaids and sizing them up. Three were familiar; two were new. He waved to the bartender, and then nearly tripped over his partner. "What the hell..."

She elbowed him in the ribs and pointed toward the bar. He was surprised to see Goren sitting there, but he was also glad. "Good. Go and talk to him."

Before she could answer, one of the barmaids sidled up to the big, brooding man. Eames backed up a few steps, until Logan stepped in her way. He leaned down and spoke into her ear. "She's the woman you're worried about, Eames? She friggin' comes on to everybody. She's got more mileage on her than a '68 Mustang. Believe me, she's nothing more than a one-nighter."

She looked up at him, eyes blazing. "So you're saying he's slumming it?"

"That's exactly what I'd be saying if he'd done anything. Now go and talk to him before someone else claims that stool next to him."

She looked at him and he gave her a gentle shove. "Go."

After giving him an annoyed glare, she walked off, sliding onto the barstool beside Goren. She looked at him, recognizing the look on his face. He was turned into his head. She knew he was aware that someone took the stool beside him, but he paid no attention to who it was. She propped her arms on the bar and moved her hand over to touch his. He pulled away, glancing toward her. She watched his annoyance dissolve into surprise. "Al-Alex...what are you doing here?"

"I'd like to ask you the same question."

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. When she slid her hand back onto his, he did not pull away. Leaning up, she murmured into his ear, "Let's go for a walk."

He swallowed the last of his drink and nodded. A walk was exactly what he needed to clear his mind. As he paid his tab and stepped away from the bar, she moved away from his side and walked over to Logan, who was flirting with Tawny. "I'll get a ride from him," she said to him.

He gave her a smile. "Good. I'll see you Monday."

Tawny gave her a cold look. "Good luck with him. He has a girlfriend."

Eames sized her up before giving her an icy smile. "I know he does."

When she turned and walked off, Logan laughed. "She's the girlfriend, sweetness."

"So what's she doing with you?"

He laughed. "I'm just her partner. He's everything else...and more. You never had a chance with him. Now me...I'm unattached and willing, as you know."

She giggled. "I get off at two..."

As they walked down the block away from the bar, Eames began the conversation. "I overreacted, didn't I?"

"Did you?"

She sighed heavily. "I...I hated seeing you with her."

"I wasn't with her. She brought me home, that's all."

She swallowed a surge of anger, but a little of it leaked through. "You were interested," she accused. "She...she got to you."

"Got to me? I told her no and sent her away. I didn't do anything with her. As far as my interest..." He sighed impatiently. "Alex, you are not the only woman who incites my arousal. That's the nature of the beast. But you...you are the only one I do anything about it with. That's my nature. You..." He paused for a moment. "You are the only one I love. That means something to me, something I will not risk destroying. Can't you give me any credit for that?"

She could not explain her reluctance to let go of her anger, and she struggled with it. He walked beside her in silence until they reached his car. He leaned back against it and studied her. "You have to trust me, or what do we have? I won't live an illusion, and I won't lie to you. I..." He tipped his head back and looked toward the light-washed sky. "I was interested, yes. But...she has nothing to offer me that's better than what I already have. No one does. I didn't know you were there. I could have accepted her offer under the assumption you'd never find out. But I didn't. I wouldn't. I don't know what your problem is, or where it comes from...but, I can't take this."

He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his keys, unlocking the passenger door. He held the keys out to her. When she closed her hand around the keys, she clasped his fingers in her grip as well. He looked into her eyes without flinching, and she understood his indignant outrage. With a sigh of resignation, she stepped away and walked around to the driver's side of the car.

The ride to his apartment was silent, both struggling with their emotions. When she parked in front of his apartment, they got out of the car and he held out his hand for the keys. She dropped them into his hand as he said, "I can call you a cab, if you want."

"Are you asking me to go home?" she asked, finally speaking.

"No. You can do whatever you want."

"Do you mind if I come up?"

He shook his head. "I don't mind. You're never unwelcome here." He studied her face and said, "I need to talk to you anyway."

She followed him up to the apartment in silence. As she made a pot of coffee, he went into the bedroom and changed into jeans and a clean shirt. He took his time, and when he returned to the living room, she was sitting in a corner of the couch, shoes off, legs curled beneath her. An odd feeling clutched the center of his gut and he wished he'd had a lot more to drink.

He sat on the opposite side of the couch and took the coffee she had poured for him from the coffee table. "Can you explain what I did to warrant this from you?" he finally asked.

"No," she answered honestly. "Sometimes...anger is irrational."

His voice was strained. "Don't you trust me? After everything that happened, don't you understand how I feel about you?"

She rubbed the palm of her hand on her coffee cup. "You got yourself into trouble and you didn't call me," she accused.

"I dealt with it," he protested. "Maybe not the way you would have, but I dealt with it. Okay, maybe my judgment was a little off when I accepted a ride home from her, but I knew enough to tell her no when she wanted more from me. And by Wednesday, I was all right. By Wednesday, I was ready to talk about it."

She took a drink. "And now?"

"I'm past that. I've moved on to a more serious issue. You don't trust me, and if you don't, than there is no way we are going to work out." He got up and began to pace, one hand clamped against the back of his neck. He had no idea how to tell her he was leaving for Virginia for a few months,.

As she watched him pace, she got a sudden image of him with that barmaid, both here, in his living room, and in the tavern where she had seen them earlier. Everything coalesced and she felt it snap. Jumping to her feet, coffee cup forgotten, she rounded on him, stepping into the path of his pacing and hitting him hard in the center of his chest with both hands. She shoved him hard enough to knock him back a few steps. "Damn you," she growled. He had the good sense to remain quiet and let her shove him into the wall. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and pressed them into the muscles of his chest. "Damn you," she repeated. "As difficult as you can be, and as much grief as you have caused me, I love you and I don't want to live without you!"

He opened his mouth to say something but she clamped her hand over it and shook her head. Pulling her hand away, she hit him in the chest and said, "I want you to be all right, dammit! I want you to cut back on your drinking and stop self-destructing! I want you to survive your life so you can start building one with me!"

Embarrassed by her unexpected outburst, she released his shirt and backed away from him. He stared at her, shell-shocked and speechless. When she turned and hurried toward the door, he moved, getting there in just enough time to hit the door with the flat of his hand and slam it shut. "Let me go," she demanded, her voice half-growl, half-sob.

"No," he replied, his voice as calm as hers was upset.

She spun around to continue the fight, but he was too close. He brought his other arm around to brace against the wall on the other side of her and she was trapped. She knew that all she had to do was tell him to move, but she didn't. He moved his face closer to hers. "Where did that come from?" he asked.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. "I...I don't know," she answered around the lump in her throat.

"Did you mean it?"

She searched her emotions and found irritation. "I said it didn't I?"

"But you didn't mean to say it."

"Not those exact words at that exact time, no. But it's out now."

"Do you still want to leave?"

She shook her head. He pulled back, withdrew his hands and stepped away. She felt the withdrawal of something powerful, almost primal, and she felt oddly weakened by its sudden disappearance. She slumped back against the wall and watched him. He paced like a caged tiger, full of pent-up energy with no outlet for it. Watching him, she got a sense of raw power and churning emotion, and she was hit with a wave of almost overwhelming desire. Before she could stop herself, she moved toward him, fast. She hit him hard, using the momentum of her approach to knock him backwards, toward the coffee table. The back of his legs hit the table but she didn't let up and he toppled backwards, landing partly on the table and partly on the couch with his hips and waist spanning the empty space between. She landed directly on top of him, and she caught him in a hard kiss.

Confused by the attack, he had no idea what to make of it, until her mouth crashed into his. He could feel desire and lust like a physical force emanating from her and he surrendered to it. Words fled from his mind and he forgot about talking. Giving himself over to the storm, he let go of everything he had been holding onto, and so did she.

He was laying on the couch with one hellcat of a woman stretched on top of him. He hadn't let go like that in a very long time. "Are you all right?" he murmured into her hair, afraid he might have hurt her.

"Fine," she assured him, exhausted.

"Where the hell did that come from?" he wondered.

"It was a long time in coming and you know it. I guess it just had nowhere else to go but out."

"So now what?"

She lifted her head to look at him. "So now we correct the mistakes of the past and we talk."

He gave her a mischievous grin. "Let me find my clothes first. I know you popped off a few buttons..."

"Oh, shut up and get dressed."

She got up, gathered her clothes and walked down the hall to the bathroom. He sat up and watched her retreating form before gathering his own clothes together and going into the bedroom. He opted for sweats this time and returned to the living room.

He was picking up shattered pieces of coffee cup when she came into the room. He carried the broken cup to the kitchen and dropped it in the trash. "It's a good thing I have sturdy furniture that can take a beating."

She gave an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sorry about that. I..."

"Don't apologize. You get mad when I do. It's all right. I can get another coffee cup, and bruises heal. Sit down."

He sat beside her on the couch. "Maybe I should have called you, but it was good for me to handle it on my own. I won't always cope in a way you think I should, but you need to let me deal with things in my own way."

"So what got to you?"

He was quiet for a long time. "I suppose just seeing her grave brought back a lot of emotion I'd never dealt with. As you know, I don't handle that too well."

"Which is why I don't get why you didn't call me."

"Even you need a break, Alex. I know how precious time with your family is to you. I will not pull you away from them or make you feel conflicted about spending time with them. It's not a choice I will ever force you to make."

"I appreciate that, but you needed me."

"I was all right."

She shook her head. "No, you weren't."

With a shrug, he amended, "I knew I would be."

She glared at him with a challenge in her eyes. "Did you really?"

He rose to meet the challenge. "Yes. I have you, and as long as that doesn't change, everything will be all right. It didn't quite go the way I planned it to, but it did work out."

She gave that some thought, then said, "Wednesday...I know you didn't call me to argue."

"Uh, no, I didn't. I wanted to invite you to dinner, to discuss what happened to me Sunday and tell you about my first day on the job."

"I was still angry. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. We worked it out. Uh...we did work it out, didn't we?"

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes. We worked it out."

"So you do trust me?"

She nodded. "Yes, I trust you."

"Then I have something else to tell you. I, um, I have to go to Quantico on Monday. They want me to teach a class on crime scene forensics because the instructor was in a car accident."

She stared at him. "How long will you be gone?"

"A couple of months, but I'll be able to come home most weekends. Or you can come down to see me."

"And you're okay with this?"

He chewed on his lip. "No, I'm not okay with it. But I don't have a choice in the matter. It's my job, Alex. I'm not at liberty to pick and choose assignments."

She sat back into the couch and crossed her arms, a frown on her face. He recognized the signs of her withdrawal. She was closing herself off to think about it. He left her alone, allowing his own thoughts to turn inward. He was beginning to wonder if he really had done the right thing by taking the FBI job when she moved from her spot on the couch.

Sliding closer to him, she touched his arm to draw his attention to her. "You're right. If I don't trust you, we will never work out. I want you to know that I do trust you, as much as I ever have. I once trusted you with my life. Now—I trust you with my heart, and that's something much more fragile. I don't like the idea that you're going to be away for months at a time, but we can work through it. Washington's not that far."

He studied her face, searching for any evidence of uncertainty. "You're not mad any more?"

"I can't say that. I'm mad that you didn't call me when you needed me. And yes, I'm still mad about your little lapse in judgment. If you need a ride home, call me or Logan, or take a cab. Don't go accepting rides from women with another agenda."

His mouth twitched. "That was very...diplomatic. Is that it?"

She gave it a moment of thought. "I suppose so. I just need to add one thing."

"What's that?"

She slid closer, into his side, arching up to bring her face closer to his. "I love you, you big ape."

He smiled and relaxed in the knowledge that everything was going to work out. He brushed his lips over hers. "I love you, too," he murmured.

She caught his mouth in a deep kiss then settled against his side. "So how far is Quantico?"

"About 300 miles. An hour and a half or so by air or 5 hours by car."

"How are you going?"

"I'm driving."

Snuggling closer, she teased the hem of his shirt, slipping her hand onto warm skin. "So...we have the weekend?"

"We do."

Shifting her position to turn her face toward his, she whispered, "Then let's make it count."

His face relaxed into a smile and he tipped his head toward her, claiming her mouth and happy to oblige.