A/N: It was brought to my attention that for my non-US readers, the acronyms don't always make sense - my apologies. In the previous chapter, SMU is Southern Methodist University. A couple of chapters back, OVR is Office of Vital Records and SSA is the Social Security Administration. As for BFE, that's slang for bum**** Egypt, simply meaning the middle of nowhere. Any others that trip anyone up, please let me know.


Bobby POV


"We need to talk to her again."

"What makes you think she'll tell us the truth this time?"

"I don't," I admitted as I stared at Alex from across our desks. "But I want to see what lies she tells today."

She smiled at me and for a moment the jackhammer in my head subsided just a little.

It scared me to think that only a few hours ago I didn't know she was my wife.

How could I not know that?

How could I have forgotten making love to her?

Or how she likes to curl up next to me in the bed?

"What?" Alex asked as I continued to stare at her.

"You're so beautiful."

She quickly glanced around and then said quietly, "We're at work."

"Doesn't make you any less beautiful."

"Bobby…"

"I'm sorry," I said without remorse. "I'm just telling you what's on my mind."

"With everything going on in this investigation, that's what's on your mind?" she asked in disbelief.

Of course that's what's on my mind.

Considering how close I'd come to forgetting how she looks naked…or the sounds she makes when I push into her…

Earlier, I'd tried to get her to make love with me.

And sure, I wasn't really in any kind of physical shape to be able to pull off much of a performance, but I couldn't get it out of my mind, the idea that I'd forgotten, and I really felt the need to connect with her like that.

But she wouldn't do it.

"We're in a hospital," she reminded me. "The doors don't lock."

"We'll go in the bathroom," I suggested.

"A hospital bathroom?" she asked skeptically. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I love you, but…ew."

Then she'd wrapped her arms around me and held me close and I couldn't help but take the opportunity to breathe in her scent and catalogue as many memories as I could.

"I'm sorry I forgot about our marriage," I whispered into her ear.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know, but…I hope you know that even when I thought you were Eames…I still loved you. That's not something that'll ever go away, no matter what happens. And if we had to start over, I'd marry you again in a second."

She chuckled lightly and said, "Mike said something along those lines, too."

"He's a smart man."

And then the image came to mind of Mike coming into the kitchen, carrying two handguns and a rifle, while Alex leaned over me and checked out my injuries…

"I didn't protect you," I told her, tightening my grip on her even more. "I said that I would, but I didn't."

"Yes, you did," she argued.

"You killed him while I did nothing."

"You warned me. You called out my name."

"That was helpful," I said cynically.

She pulled back from me and held my face in her hands and said firmly, "It was. It's only because of your warning that I was able to get the upper hand on him. So don't think for one second that you didn't save my life."

Her eyes flooded with tears and so did mine, and then she reached up and kissed me so sweetly…

But then the nurse came in and interrupted our moment. She brought my discharge instructions, and after that, we drove to Mike's house, where we let ourselves in and raided their respective closets and then Alex used their shower.

He'd offered the hospitality, of course, since we couldn't exactly go back to our place just yet, and we never finished packing our duffle bags.

I leaned against the counter in the bathroom and talked to her while she cleaned up.

Or rather, she talked, going over the guidelines of the deal I'd brokered.

Because, as I managed to eloquently point out, my brain wasn't going to turn off just because I was home resting.

Not only that, but we couldn't even go home, and how much rest would I get somewhere else?

So I was allowed to go into work, but I had to tell her if I felt feverish or light-headed or numb or experienced weakness in any limbs…she basically went down the entire list of potential complications.

"It says I can resume normal sexual activity," I told her.

She turned off the water and pulled back the curtain, looking at me in amusement.

"I doubt that means within thirty minutes of discharge."

"It doesn't specify," I reasoned as I let my gaze wander over her. She dried herself off and then brushed past me into the bedroom where she'd set out the clothes she'd confiscated from Carolyn.

"I'll make a deal with you," she replied. "If we get through today with no issues, then tonight…"

"Yeah?" I asked hopefully.

"Tonight I'll properly refresh your memory," she said, obviously understanding perfectly why I felt the urgent need for intimacy. "And I'll even do all the work."

And then she'd flashed me a smile as she towel-dried her hair, and I'm telling you…for a man with a battered skull, I'm insanely happy.

Well, not insane.

Just happy.

And hours later, as I sifted through paperwork with my wife, I'm still happy, despite the headache and despite the slight pain in my ribs on every inhaled breath.

I have a feeling that, the next time I try to talk Alex into staying home due to illness or injury, this occurence is going to be brought to the forefront.

Quickly.

But that's okay. I'll deal with that when the time comes.

For now, I'm just happy that she didn't bench me. Because honestly, if she'd insisted, I would've listened to her.

And maybe it's only because she doesn't want to let me out of her sight, I don't know. But I'll take it.

I picked up a printout of Christina's four-month old LUDs and then looked across the desk at Alex as she waited patiently for my response.

"I learned a long time ago how to appreciate your beauty while still getting the job done," I told her. "A prepaid was called a few dozen times over the course of two weeks, and then it seems to drop off the face of the earth."

"It could be Demachi," she replied, still looking pleased by my complimentary words because even though she was chastising me a little for saying them out loud at work, I could tell that it was more out of habit than anything else.

We're married.

I can stand up on my desk and shout out details of our last sexual encounter and no one's going to care.

Well…at least we won't get into any trouble.

Ross might not like me offering up x-rated dialogue with Jeremy around, but still...there's certainly no harm in me telling Alex that she's beautiful.

"The marshal service has Demachi's phones accounted for. That number isn't on his list."

"They documented the ones they know about. There could be more."

"True. Or it could be Rama."

"You're determined to make that cat theory work, aren't you?" she teased lightly.

"Not if it's wrong."

"But it isn't, and you already know that."

"Maybe," I agreed. "But it still doesn't help us all that much. We already guessed that Rama and Demachi are both after her."

And Jennifer's interview with the suspect had proven that aspect correct.

"Who are you working for?" she'd asked him as she casually sat down across from him at the table.

Alex and I were watching, along with Mary and Lupo. Bernard wasn't back yet, and the other two marshals were headed to the morgue to see what Liz had learned from Lisa Rorer.

I'd considered that Alex and I should go to the morgue, not only since I figured Liz would want to put eyes on me to confirm that I'm still in my right mind, but also because I want to make sure that she's okay.

But this interrogation was too important.

And if Jennifer couldn't get it done, then Alex and I had to be in the bullpen, ready to step in.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Listen, Detective," the lawyer spoke up.

"It's Inspector," she corrected sharply. "I'm a United States Marshal and your client is currently in some seriously deep shit, so I hope you're up to speed on the latest statutes involving witness tampering and hindering federal prosecution."

"Those are pretty lofty allegations, considering my client was booked on evading and resisting arrest."

"For now,"she pointed out. "But more charges are pending. Do you want to know why?"

"Because you're a bitch who gets her rocks off by harassing innocent bystanders?" the suspect posed.

"Innocent,"she laughed derisively.

Then she opened up the file and started tossing photographs onto the table.

"Are those what I think they are?" I asked Mary.

"Not exactly."

Alex raised her eyebrow and said, "They're not of you and Lupo and Bernard?"

"No. They're of the van, and the guy in the trench coat."

That information had given me pause, and while I mulled it over, I tuned into the conversation behind the glass again.

"You were on the roof with a Nikon and a zoom lens."

"That's not illegal."

"Well, it's trespassing. But my question is…why were you taking pictures of a hit man?"

"A hit man?" the guy laughed. "That's generous."

"So you know him?"

"Do we know him yet?" I asked Lupo.

"Lucas Montoya," he answered. "He's got an impressive sheet, but no murders."

"I've seen him around,"the suspect responded.

"When you're doing work for Jetmir Demachi?"

"I don't work for Demachi."

"Then you work for Rama."

"Because they're the only two guys who employ people in this city?"

"Because they're the two lieutenants in the Albanian gang that you're involved with. So…which is it?"

The guy, Patrick Compton, crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair.

"She's not going to get anything," Mary commented.

"She's doing alright," I said.

"He doesn't have anything to lose. He knows we can't book him on anything that'll stick for longer than an hour."

"Then let's give him something to lose," I said. "He had a gun on him when she picked him up, right?"

"Yeah. Why, what are you thinking?"

I looked at Alex and said, "Text Liz and ask her to send us the morgue photo of Montoya."

She nodded and immediately pulled out her phone, but Mary narrowed her eyes at me, so I elaborated.

"Compton has no way of knowing that Montoya's dead, right?"

"I don't see how. We certainly haven't told him."

"Good."

"Here you go," Alex said, handing me her phone. "Are we going in?"

"I am, but just for a second."

I left the observation room with Alex's phone and then I grabbed a random sheet of paper off the nearest desk before knocking lightly on the interrogation room door. I didn't wait for a response, but instead opened it slightly and poked my head inside.

"Inspector," I said. "The report's back."

I was hoping that she wouldn't make the rookie mistake of asking which report.

She didn't.

Instead, she got up from the table and walked confidently over to where I stood, still in the doorway.

I stayed there because I didn't want to skew the perception in the room, which is that she's in charge.

"The ballistics are a perfect match," I said in a loud whisper, holding out the piece of paper for her to look at.

She made a sound, almost like a snort, and I glanced at her to see what was wrong and I realized she was struggling to contain a laugh. She was still looking at the paper, so I glimpsed down to see that what I'd snagged was a printout of an email containing dick jokes.

I nearly ruined our ruse as I scanned over the first few.

My dick is so big, there's still snow on it in the summertime.

My dick is so big, I went to The Viper Room and my dick got right in. I had to stand and argue with the doorman.

My dick is so big, I have to call it Mr. Dick in front of company.

"Do you…um…do you want me to amend the charges?" I managed to ask her, while on the inside I was praying that she wouldn't file sexual harassment charges against me.

Whose desk did I get this from? Jeffries? Sessions?

"Yes, thank you, Detective," she said.

"Murder one?"

"Absolutely."

I nodded at her and handed off the phone so that she'd have the photographic proof of Montoya's demise, and then I left the room.

"Bobby, are you okay?" Alex asked in concern. "You look flushed."

"I'm fine. I'm just…" I trailed off and handed the piece of paper to Mary. "I hope Dunn has a sense of humor because this is what I used for my fake report."

Mary started laughing, as did Lupo, who was reading over her shoulder.

"She does. You're fine," she said. "Now let's find out if your game works."

"What was he talking about? Murder? I didn't kill nobody."

"Ballistics don't lie, Mr. Compton," Jennifer said arrogantly as she reclaimed her chair. Then she held out the phone for him to look at, showing him the morgue photo of Montoya. "So my only question is this. Are you working for Rama, trying to take out Demachi's men? Or the other way around?"

"I didn't kill nobody," he repeated, this time looking slightly freaked out.

"Well, guess what…I don't care whether you did or didn't. You're who we've got, and in order to wrap up the rest of our case, we're going to let the information about this murder leak to one of the lieutenants. You can either point me in the right direction, or you can let me take a shot in the dark."

"You can't tell anyone that I did that," he insisted. "Because I didn't, and if they think I did…"

"They. Who's they?"

He hesitated and then Jennifer stood up and pulled a quarter from her pocket and said, "Never mind. I like to let fate make difficult decisions for me anyway. So…heads is Rama, and tails is Demachi."

She flipped the coin into the air, but before it landed, Compton shouted out, "Rama, okay? You can't tell Demachi I whacked Montoya, or I'm as good as dead."

"And why would I care if you guys want to kill each other off? I'm only concerned about the innocent people getting caught in the crossfire."

"Innocent? You think Christina's innocent?"

"I don't know, but I know that those two detectives who were ambushed in their own home…they're innocent."

"Okay," the lawyer interrupted. "I think my client has talked enough. If you want anything more from him, we're going to need some kind of deal."

"I'm not done with him yet."

"It's not up to you, Inspector. We'll wait until we hear from the DA."

"But I didn't kill nobody!" Compton shouted again.

His lawyer chucked him and the man fell silent.

"Okay," Mary said. "So Rama's definitely involved, and he's got people watching to see what Demachi is going to do. But why?"

"I'm sorry," Jennifer said as she came in the room.

"For what?" Alex asked her. "You did great."

"I should've gotten more before his lawyer stopped it."

"You did good to get as much as you did," I told her. "And about that report…"

She'd merely grinned and waved me off, and then she and Mary headed out to see about rounding up some of Rama's gang while Bernard, who'd just arrived, was going out with Lupo to shake some trees in Demachi's territory.

Of course, I was still on desk duty, which is why Alex and I were going through LUDs.

Although, desk duty with Alex isn't all that bad.

"You know what," I said suddenly as I started flipping through the case notes. "Okay, this is weird."

"What've you got?" she asked as she got up and moved around to stand behind me.

She settled her hand on my back as she waited to hear my thoughts, and I could feel the warmth of it through my two shirts and my suit jacket.

Or maybe I'm just extremely tuned in to her after our midnight scare.

"The van," I said. "Last night, it carried the aggressors, the ones who actually came into our apartment."

"Right."

"But Sunday night, at Anna's, it was the blue Honda."

"Which they lost, so…"

"Yeah, but…"

I trailed off as I turned in the chair and caught her eye. She was nodding thoughtfully and I could see that she'd put the pieces together.

Or at least, a couple of them.

We were still short of having the entire puzzle, but we were getting there.

"The van was there, too," she stated. "So if Compton is working with Rama, then it was Demachi's people in the van."

"Uh huh. Which tells us that it was Rama's people who went after Anna, and not Demachi's, like we thought."

"But he was watching, because he suspected that Rama would go after her."

"And what? He planned to trail Rama until he led him to Christina?"

"Maybe. He was letting him do the dirty work," she posed.

"Or at least he was. Until last night. So what happened to change the game plan?"

"Mary told the caller about Christina's pregnancy," Alex pointed out.

"And the caller must've been one of Rama's men, if we're assuming they're the ones who pulled off the hit on Anna."

"Right. So why is he backing off now, and letting Demachi take the lead? Why has the desperation level flip-flopped?"

"Because Rama thinks he might be the father," I stated. "And maybe he leaked that to Demachi."

"So now we still have one who wants to kill her and one who wants to keep her safe, only it's the opposite of who we thought."

"Either way…"

"Schrödinger's cat," she said with a smirk.

"Uh huh, but you know, that's just the beginning. Think about it. What would happen to Christina if she weren't in Witsec?"

"I'm assuming you mean if she wasn't planning to testify," she clarified.

And of course, that's exactly what I meant.

I love how she gets me so easily.

"Right. And she's pregnant by one of the two lieutenants. The timing is awfully convenient, don't you think?"

"You think she's conning the US Attorney," she said knowingly. "That she doesn't intend to testify."

"That's exactly what I think. How do you think Mary's going to react if she finds out she's been played?"

"If this is all some big hoax designed for her to hide her pregnancy..." she began, and then she trailed off as she ran her hand gently over my bruised head.

"Mary will be the least of her worries," she finished, her voice filled with conviction. "I'll kill her myself."

TBC...