Eames knew her partner well. She knew how his mind worked in most situations. But Logan knew him in a different way. After dinner, Eames thought they should try going by his apartment, thinking he would retreat from everyone and sequester himself in his home. Now that the surveillance was done and all the equipment had been removed, his home was once more the only place he truly felt comfortable and safe. Logan disagreed. He would retreat, yes, but he wasn't going home right away. Logan suggested they swing by Pete's Tavern, willing to bet money they would find Goren there. Eames finally gave in to him and they drove to the bar.

The dim lighting of the bar made it difficult to distinguish the details of people's faces, but both Eames and Logan spotted him right away. "He shouldn't be here," Eames muttered.

"You want to tell him that?" Logan replied. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

They flanked Goren, each sliding onto a bar stool beside him. Eames ordered a Jack and coke; Logan asked for scotch and soda. Goren ignored them, silently signaling for a refill. Logan studied Goren, trying to determine how long he'd been there so he would know how to approach him. Eames, however, jumped in with both feet. "How is Malicek?" she asked.

Logan leaned back and looked at her with a frown. That was not the question he would have led with if he were her, but the damage was done. He waited to see how Goren reacted.

Slowly, Goren turned his head toward his partner. His eyes searched her face, and she knew he was reading her. She met his eyes without flinching. "Do you care?" he asked.

Logan wondered how hard he'd hit the bar when he arrived. He couldn't have been there more than two hours. "I care," Logan said, trying to avoid a fight between the partners.

Goren turned his head to look at Logan. "You never knew her."

"That doesn't mean I don't care. I never met your mom, either, but I cared when she died. I care because I know you did."

Goren nodded in silent acknowledgment, a glint of gratitude in his eyes. He sat up straighter and slid off his seat. Taking his cane in one hand and his drink in the other, he limped to an empty table. Eames followed him, but the bartender motioned to Logan before he walked away from the bar. "He okay?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. When did he get here?"

"Maybe an hour ago. He's not in much of a talking mood, so I've just refilled his drink and left him alone. He's gonna need help getting home if he keeps going the way he started."

"Don't worry, Chuck. We'll take care of him. Put the drinks on my tab and I'll settle with you in a couple of days."

"No problem, Mike."

"Thanks."

He took his drink and joined Goren and Eames at the table. Goren was scowling into his drink and Eames was frustrated. Logan held out his hands. "Can't leave you two alone for a minute. You fighting already?"

Eames picked up her drink. "We can't fight if he won't talk to me."

Whether he liked it or not, Logan was caught in the middle. He motioned at Eames to settle down as he turned to Goren. "Tell us what happened," he urged.

Goren's emotions were in a tailspin and he was unable to sort through them. Frustrated, he gave up and let them have their way, and they overwhelmed him. He folded his arms on the table and rested his forehead on them. Logan looked at Eames, who shrugged. She'd never seen him like this. Turning her chair toward him, she reached out and placed her hand on his arm, sliding it slowly toward his shoulder, along his neck and into his hair. He trembled and suddenly turned toward her. She folded her arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Gently, she stroked his hair. His shoulders shook and he softly sobbed against her. Resting her head against his, she looked at Logan. His eyes were moist and full of sympathy. His hand settled on Goren's back and he leaned in close. "Why don't we get out of here?" he suggested. "These people don't need to be part of this."

Eames nodded in agreement. "Come on, Bobby."

He took a minute to finish his drink and pull himself together before he got up, with a little help from Logan. Fifteen minutes later, they were in Goren's living room. Goren dropped his cane by the couch and sat down, holding his head in his hands. Eames sat beside him and Logan perched on the coffee table. "Talk to us," Logan urged.

When Goren didn't respond, Logan pressed on. "It doesn't matter if we knew her or liked her," he said. "She was a fellow officer, taken down in the line of duty. That makes us care. And she was important to you, so that makes this loss matter more because you are important to us."

Eames looked at him with surprise, wondering when he'd learned how to find the right things to say. Goren also looked at him, then at Eames. "Her brother was there, and so were Nugent and Moretti. They, uhm, they left me alone with her for a while, so I could say what I had to say. When they came back, there was a doctor with them, and a nurse. They turned off the machines, one by one. She hung on for fifteen, twenty minutes, and then she was gone. His last victim."

Eames reached out and rested her hand on his leg. "I'm so sorry, Bobby."

"So am I," said Logan.

"Nugent and Moretti wanted me to go with them, but...I...I just wanted to be alone."

"Do you want us to go?" Eames offered.

He thought about it but shook his head. "I...want you to stay," he said quietly. "This was...difficult for me, and I...I want you here."

"Then we'll stay," she replied.

Logan nodded in agreement. "We're here for you," he said. After a pause, he said, "Do you want to talk about her?"

Eames tried not to react to Logan's suggestion. She wasn't sure she wanted to discuss her partner's relationship with Malicek. He knew she didn't approve and she wondered how willing he would be to discuss it with her there. Perhaps it was a conversation the two men needed to have in her absence, but Logan didn't agree.

When Goren didn't answer his question, Logan decided to prod a little. "Did you love her?" he asked quietly.

Goren hesitated, and he looked at Eames. She nodded, trying her best to be encouraging and not appear uncomfortable. She moved her hand, lightly rubbing his leg. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about Logan's question. "I cared about her, very much. I...I don't know that I loved her, but...maybe...I-I could have. Someday. She...helped me, uh, work through some things. And she...she gave me...the distraction I needed."

"Did you really need a distraction?" Eames asked.

"Not from the case—from what was going on with the rest of my life. She helped me to focus on the case and let the rest of it go for awhile. And I did the same for her. She was able to pull it together, to release all that anger and frustration so she could become the person she once was. The closer we got to finding Kenneth, the more she could let go and be...Corrie again. And I liked Corrie."

"Did you...like who you were when you were with her?" she asked, tentative and still uncertain about exploring his relationship with Malicek.

He heard the hesitation in her voice and looked at her again, to confirm that she really did want to discuss his recent personal life. He met her eyes and saw encouragement. Her hand continued to soothe him. "I...I did," he admitted. "With her, I could...let go. I didn't have to restrain myself. She accepted that side of me...welcomed it, even."

"So those S&M games you played..."

He waved his hand, cutting her off. "It wasn't like that," he insisted, too distracted to get angry with her. "It wasn't about that. I-I don't expect you to understand..."

"Then try explaining it to me. If it wasn't about that, what was it about?"

He gave it some thought, wishing she'd wanted to have this conversation weeks ago, when it would have done some good. "It was about...freedom. You have no idea how much I have to hold back sometimes when I'm with a woman. I mean...I...I'm not saying sex isn't good. I get what I need, but..I don't want to hurt anyone. I really don't get off on pain, Eames—causing it or receiving it. But...I can be rough, and sometimes, I like it rough. Most women, though, don't want it like that. With Corrie, I didn't have to worry. If I left a bruise or a bite, it was okay. She played just as hard, and she liked it even more than I did. There was no guilt when I was with her. I...I've never had that with a woman before. Even though I didn't love her yet, I loved being with her. For awhile...I even forgot about Gage."

"And now?"

His expression became pained. "And now...I...I need a drink."

Logan stood. "I'll get it for you."

Eames shifted closer to her partner. "Bobby," she said softly, moving her hand from his leg to his chest. "I really am sorry...for everything."

His eyes searched her face. "You never understood," he said.

"I never tried to understand. I didn't like her, and I didn't want you to like her either. When I found out you were sleeping with her, I felt...betrayed, and I reacted with anger. You have the right to sleep with anyone you want, and I'm sorry for trying to take that away from you. You must have seen...something in her. I never gave her a chance."

"I never got why you were so angry," he admitted, as Logan returned with drinks for the three of them.

"That's easy," he said, ignoring the warning look Eames gave him. "She was jealous."

"Logan!" she hissed.

"What? I can say it now, in front of you, or I can say it later, when you're not around. Either way, I'm gonna say it."

She continued to glare at him until Goren moved his hand to touch her chin and turn her face back toward him. "Jealous? Why?"

Logan rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of whiskey. Eames continued to look into her partner's eyes, but she didn't answer his question.

Logan knew a stalemate when he saw one, though he didn't think it quite fair that Eames knew how Goren felt but she wouldn't tell him how she felt. He'd rectify that little imbalance of power later. He held up his glass and cleared his throat, drawing their attention to him. "For Agent Corrine Malicek," he said. "May she rest in peace."

Goren drank the toast, but he looked back at Eames. His mind remained focused on her through the rest of the night as he refilled his glass again...and again...and again...

Hours later, Logan struggled to his feet with some difficulty. "I'd better head home."

"How're you getting there?" Goren asked. "You can barely walk."

Logan laughed, which set off Goren. "I could crawl," he suggested, once he'd settled.

"You could. Or you could just crash here, on the couch."

"I could, but then where would Eames sleep?"

Goren waved a hand at the hallway. "I have a bed."

"Then where will you sleep?" Eames asked, wondering if she'd made a mistake even trying to keep up with the drinking buddies. Goren was in no mood for moderation. Logan hadn't even tried to keep up.

Goren looked at her and cocked his head. "It's a big bed," he said reasonably.

"And you're a big guy," she pointed out.

"Not as big as the bed."

She gave that some thought. "Can you stay on your side?"

"Sure."

She blinked a few times as she considered his offer. Raising her hand, she shook her finger at him. "If you wander onto my side, I might hurt you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Fine. Good night, Logan."

Goren nodded at his buddy. "Night, Mike."

"Sleep tight, you two," he said with a wide grin.

"Enough with the Cheshire Cat grin," Eames snapped. "Sleep is all we'll be doing."

Goren had some trouble coordinating the use of his cane, so he gave up and left it behind. Halfway down the hall, his knee buckled. Eames caught him and almost went down with him, but somehow, he caught himself—caught them—against the wall, pinning her there under the weight of his body.

"Get off me," she growled, trying to shove him back.

Her efforts had no effect on him, but her body against his certainly did. He lifted his weight off her, but made no move to step away. He continued to look into her face, taking no notice of her hands, still braced against his chest. "Alex," he whispered.

She didn't move anything but her eyes, resting her gaze in his. "Bobby," she whispered back.

"I, uhm, I...have a confession to make," he whispered.

"Oh?"

He raised his hand and caressed the side of her face. "You...You're beautiful," he murmured, making no effort to move away from her.

She swallowed hard, no longer inclined to struggle against him. "Is that it?"

"Is that what?"

"Your confession."

"My...oh, uh...no. No. That was...an observation."

His fingers touched her lips, and she poked out her tongue, licking his index finger and gently drawing it into her mouth. He groaned deeply. She moved her hips against him and whispered, "So what is it?"

His mind was buzzing in several different directions, spinning and dipping wildly. "What is what?" he answered, slipping his finger from her mouth and tracing her face with it, his own face now mere inches away from hers.

"Your confession."

"My...oh. My confession..."

His fingers gently explored her face while his right arm supported his body weight so he wouldn't crush her. His hand slowly moved down to her throat, and he felt her swallow. Then he traced her collarbone with the tip of the same finger she had drawn into her mouth and teased with her tongue.

"...is simple," he whispered, moving his face even closer. His hand strayed just a little further south, brushing over the firm mound of her breast. She groaned and closed her eyes, pushing her chest forward to encourage him. Had her struggle against him been in earnest, if she'd really wanted to get away from him, he would have released her, but she didn't seem to really want to get away. His presumption was confirmed when her hand, to which he'd failed to pay attention, rubbed across the front of his pants. "Ohhhh," he groaned at the unexpected contact.

"Confess," she whispered, her mouth as close to his as it could get without making contact.

"I confess," he agreed. "I...I love you...deeply...madly...and completely."

There they were, hanging between them, words that would never have seen the light of day had he been sober, even though they came directly from his heart. He wasn't one to readily expose his heart that way, to open himself so completely to utter destruction, for she alone had the ability to decimate him with just a few well-chosen words. Her tongue was a lethal weapon. His eyes strayed over her face, just inches from his own, as he waited for her response, too drunk to feel apprehensive. At that moment, she had more power over him than he'd ever allowed any woman to have.

"I...love you...too," she confessed in return.

Those few words would explain everything, once he took the time to analyze them, but his mind had shut down for the night. He closed the distance between them, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss that she returned with vigor. Two pairs of hands continued their exploration of uncharted territory. Logan came down the hall, slipping past them on his way to the bathroom. "It's about fucking time," he muttered as he entered the bathroom, just beyond where they were.

When he came out, they were still at it. "Bedroom," he suggested as he crossed behind Eames on his way back to the living room. He stopped beside her and leaned in a little closer, murmuring softly into her ear, "Take him into the bedroom and get out of those clothes. You're wearing way too many clothes."

She grunted into her partner's mouth and began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, her mind now focused on getting off his clothes. Logan realized she'd missed the entire first half of his suggestion. Gently, he gave them a push in the right direction. "Take it down the hall," he growled with feigned irritation.

He gave Goren another gentle nudge. Eames withdrew from the embrace, pulling her shirt closed. Goren took a step and his knee gave out. Logan grabbed him and somehow, they made it down the hall to the bedroom. Logan deposited his friend on the bed and smiled at Eames. "I suppose I can trust you to take care of him?" he said to her.

She had not taken her eyes off her partner, and she didn't as she answered him with a nod. "I'll take care of him," she said.

Logan walked to the door, turning back to grab the doorknob. In the light that filtered through the window curtain from the street, he saw that Eames had pushed Goren back onto the bed and crawled on top of him. Her shirt fluttered to the floor. Even in the dim light, he could see the look of adoration on his friend's face and he smiled. Pulling the door closed, he returned to the living room and passed out on the couch.