A/N: Sorry this chapter is, like, triple-length. I wanted to get the whole scene out in one shot so I can move on in the next chapter (casefile? huh? what's that?). I know this chap is over-the-top, especially toward the end...I think I read too many romance novels for my own good ;)

A/N 2: Thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing (Franta, Evenstar83, gerfan, Sara Sanders...you guys know who you are). I'm such a dork, I leave my monitor turned on at night after I post a chapter, hoping to see that review alert" email pop up so I can jump up and read it, and you never let me down!

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Alex didn't let herself relax until she was in her apartment with the door locked behind her. Heaving a sigh, she sank down on the couch and dropped her head into her hands. Her apartment was safe, and therefore she was safe in it . . . but for how long? Only until morning, at best. With her luck, someone would come knocking on her door at midnight wanting to discuss things and then she wouldn't even have tonight to herself.

She needed to forget about Bobby for the night. That meant getting out of her work clothes and into her favorite flannel bathrobe, with frayed elbows and a stretched-out waist tie, so she headed for her bedroom to retrieve it.

Cinching the robe around her waist a few minutes later, she decided that she felt a little better - the robe was like being enveloped in a warm hug - but still too wound-up to be able to think clearly.

She'd have loved to skip town. To not have to face Goren, Deakins, or Logan in the morning. To find some other city, some place where her new partner would be . . . maybe like Lenny Briscoe had been. Sarcastic, easy to work with, and too old to see her as a female. Even someone like Mike Logan would be ok - he could be difficult, but he didn't seem to be afraid of speaking his mind.

But Goren . . .! Too locked into his own mind to care about what his actions did to anyone else. Too confident to be easily handled. Entirely too young to not be seen as attractive . . .

No! That was the last thing she needed to dwell on.

She groaned and headed for the kitchen. She knew she had a bottle of cabernet stashed away in a cabinet somewhere. Now she just had to find it.

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The wine revealed itself fairly quickly, and half an hour later a glass was balanced on the bathroom counter as she indulged in a warm bath. She'd even broken out one of the fizzy bath balls her sister had given her for Christmas last year. At the time, she'd joked about setting them aside for some romantic night when someone joined her in the bath, and the irony wasn't lost on her that tonight couldn't have been farther from what she'd said back then.

"As if my love life wasn't depressing enough already," she muttered to herself, sinking down in the tub until the water was just below her nose. And I'm sitting here with alcohol and a smelly, chalky ball as my only comforts, she thought. Way to go, Alex.

Reluctant to get out of the warm water, she'd just finished washing her hair for the second time when she heard a quiet thumping sound coming from outside the bathroom. She couldn't identify it offhand, but as depressed as she was, she was still trained to be suspicious. Grumbling mildly, she stepped out of the water and donned her robe, then grabbed her half-full wine glass and went to investigate.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she groaned when she realized that the sound was someone knocking on the apartment door. "I don't need this."

"Whatever it is," she said, eager to get rid of whoever it was as she pulled open the door, "I don't want an- Oh."

The sight of Goren, still dressed for work, standing in her doorway set her heart pounding, She wasn't sure if it was from anger, panic, or excitement, but whatever it was, she didn't like it. "Go away," she said, putting down her wine glass and moving to shut the door.

He stiff-armed it, forcing the door to a stop halfway. "Hear me out."

"No!" She put all her body weight into pushing the door. "I asked you to leave me alone. Can't you even do that?"

He blinked, holding the door open with little conscious effort. "Uh, well . . . no. I need to explain things, Alex."

"I gave you a chance to do that this morning. If you hadn't noticed, it accomplished less than nothing."

"It'll be different this time," he said quickly.

"And I should believe that . . . why?"

"Because," he said, slowly forcing the door back toward her as he inched into the apartment, "we still have to work together. It has to be different."

"I've given you every chance, Bobby," she said, keeping her weight against the door but no longer bothering to fight him over it. "Now I'm cutting my losses."

"What the hell does that mean?" he asked, his voice getting louder.

"It means I'm going to do a lot of thinking tonight, and that I'm no longer interested in what you have to say."

He wedged a foot in the door, dropped his arms, and stared at her. "You really want to . . . Damn it, you can't!"

"It's my partnership too, and yes, I can. And I am. You don't have a say in this."

"Alex!"

"Leave, Bobby."

"No." Catching her by surprise, he hit the door, pushing it and her back against the wall. "You're going to listen to me. If you still want me gone when I'm done talking, I'll go."

Slipping out from behind the door, she stood in his path, arms crossed. "Go. Away."

"No," he repeated. "I'm giving you three more seconds to let me in, or . . ."

"Or what?" she challenged.

"Or I'm coming in anyway." Before she could react, he reached out, put his hands under her arms, and simply lifted her out of his way.

"Obviously I'm not going to be able to forcibly evict you," she said, glaring at him from her new position a few feet farther back. Picking up her wine glass and walking farther into the room, she added, "So talk fast."

"Did I, uh, interrupt something?" he asked, abruptly noticing her bedraggled appearance now that she wasn't hiding behind the door.

"Yeah," she sighed. "You interrupted my attempt to relax and stop worrying about work."

"You were . . . taking a bath?" he guessed, trying not to think about the implications that might have on her state of dress - or undress. Had she gotten out of the tub and thrown on that robe over . . . nothing?

"You know me so well," she replied, and though the words sounded complimentary, her tone made it clear that it wasn't a compliment. "Are you going to just keep hedging now that you forced your way in here, or are you going to say whatever it is that's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?" She took a sip of wine, almost emptying the glass.

"Uh . . ." He turned away from her, clasping his hands behind his back, and started pacing the length of her living room. "I'll say it. I want to apologize for today."

"Bobby," she interrupted, "we've already done this onc-"

"Don't interrupt," he rebuked. "As I was saying, I want to apologize for today. For all of today. Even lunch."

"My salad wasn't that bad," she said in an attempt at levity.

He glanced up at her, then returned his eyes to the floor he was pacing. Not acknowledging her comment, he went on: "I haven't been . . . honest with you. About a lot of things."

Alex rolled her eyes and downed her last sip of wine. Did he think she didn't already know that?

"I've been having, um, thoughts. Lately. About us . . . you."

Suddenly nervous at the turn his quasi-apology had taken, she took a step back and looked at him warily. "What kind of 'thoughts'?"

"I have a, uh, protective instinct when it comes to some people. My mother is one. You're another."

"What do I need to be protected from? I carry a gun, for god's sake!"

He shook his head. "Not that kind of protection. I mean that . . . well, maybe 'protective' isn't the best word for it. I don't know what to call it."

"Insane?" she suggested. "Chauvinistic? Controlling?"

"No! None of those." He paused. "Well, maybe the insane, a little bit. But that's beside the point."

"What, exactly, is the point?"

Unclasping his hands and turning them palms-up in a helpless gesture, he said, "I don't . . . know how to explain this. Bear with me, ok?"

"I'm about out of forbearance, sorry."

He shouldn't expect her to make this easy on him, he reminded himself. He'd royally screwed up their relationship, largely with stumbling explanations like the one he was attempting to give now. "We've worked together for . . . years."

"Yes."

"And I know we don't really socialize together or anything . . ."

"Ok . . ."

"But just by virtue of working with you so long, I view you as . . . more than a coworker."

"More?" she echoed with raised eyebrows. "Like, say, a possession? Or a weak woman needing to be protected?"

"No! Damn it Alex, let me get this out!"

She inched back another step. "Sorry."

"I'm . . . sorry," he said, observing her retreat. "I'm trying not to shout, but I guess I'm not doing too well at it."

"I swear to god, Goren, if you don't tell me what the hell you're talking about within the next five seconds, I'm kicking you out of here if I have to throw you out. I'll figure out a pulley system or something."

Judging by the look on her face, he didn't doubt that she would do as threatened. What was the essence of what he was trying to tell her? He wasn't sure. He was even hedging in his own mind; how could he present a logical argument out loud?

She was looking at him dangerously, he noticed. He was running out of time, so he blurted out the first semi-logical thing that came to mind: "I don't like seeing other men coming on to you."

To his amazement, she reacted with a complete lack of surprise. "Uh, I was aware of that. You told me the other night, remember? When you were telling me how I'm only capable of flirting, not investigating? And what, exactly, do you mean by 'other men'?"

"That's the problem."

"Uh . . . what's the problem?"

"The 'other men' part."

She gave him an aggravated look and sat down on the arm of the couch. "It might help if you used complete sentences. You know, a subject, a verb, and an object?"

"I . . ." His mouth worked for a few seconds as he searched his mind for a way out and found none. " 'Other men'," he finally managed, "as in . . . men other than me."

Her head jerked up at that and her eyes locked on his. "Excuse me?"

It was Goren's turn to back up a step as he reacted to the cold look in her eyes. "I'm not saying . . . that is, I don't want . . . I . . ."

"Let me be sure I have this right," she said silkily. "You don't like seeing the men I talk to hit on me . . . because you're the only one who's allowed to hit on me? I've got news for you, buddy - if the past few days have been your idea of 'hitting,' then it's no wonder you can't get a date."

"Well, no," he said evasively. "I, uh, wouldn't exactly say that that was what I meant."

She gave him a bored look and motioned for him to go on as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"I don't know how to explain this without it sounding insulting - which I don't mean it to be."

"Try," she said as she refilled her wine glass. "It'll take me at least a minute to figure out how to boot you out, anyway."

"The men who I see coming on to you are sleazebags. They're not good enough for you."

"You're not my father. 'Good enough' is not something you need to be concerned about."

"But I . . ."

"But you what?" she prompted, returning to her position by the couch, this time with full glass in hand.

"I'm . . ." He stopped, shaking his head. "Alex, tell me what I need to do to fix this. How do I have to act for you to be able to work with me again?"

She gave him an incredulous look. "That's it? You're going to just . . . stop there?"

"Huh?"

"You just tried to totally skip over answering my question. 'I'm' does not constitute a complete answer."

"I . . ." he said, looking down at his feet. "You probably don't want to hear the rest."

Holding up her glass of wine, she said, "I'm half-drunk and starting to feel a little more human. This is about as good an opportunity as you're going to get to say it."

When Goren didn't answer after a few seconds, she put down her wine and stood up, walking closer to him. "I've got news for you, Goren: I don't want to stop working with you either. You're a good partner, you're smart, and I like you. But if you're not going to throw me a bone and help get us through this, then you're tying my hands."

She was too close to him now, his brain screamed. Alex sitting across the room had been safe; Alex standing less than two feet away and looking up into his face was definitely not safe. He fidgeted, trying to inch backwards without her noticing.

She noticed. She was just opening her mouth to call him on it when the sound of her phone playing Bolero interrupted her. Giving him a dirty look as she grabbed the phone off a side table, she told him, "Don't move," then flipped the phone open.

"Hello?"

"Alex?"

She couldn't quite place the voice. "Yes, who's this?"

"Logan. Uh, hi."

"Mi-" she began, then cut herself off as she noticed Goren's eyes on her. "Hi. Did you, uh, need something?"

"I wanted to make sure you were ok. Well, and also tell you that I think Deakins thinks we've got something going on."

"He what? Why the hell does he think that?" She almost groaned; she should have known that anything semi-good that happened to her today would also end up cursed.

"You gave him my handkerchief. It had my initials on it."

"Oh my god," she said, thinking about having to deal with Deakins in the morning. Suddenly, the idea of her captain believing she was being being fought over by two antisocial detectives, neither of whom was actually interested in her, was just too ironic, and she couldn't help but react to the absurdity: she started snickering.

"Uh, Eames?" Goren said from behind her. "You ok?"

"Just . . . fine," she assured him, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Alex? You there?" asked Logan on the phone.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"You got someone there with you? Am I interrupting?" He sounded amused, she noticed.

"Yeah . . ." she said slowly, eyeing Goren's suspicious face. "The, uh, person I was talking about earlier."

"No kidding?" Logan said, suddenly sounding a lot more animated. "Is he trying to win you back?"

"You could say that."

"Is he succeeding?"

"No, not as yet," she said formally, trying to make it sound to Goren like she was carrying on an impersonal conversation.

"He's watching you, isn't he?" Logan said. She could hear him trying to muffle a laugh as he pictured the scene.

"Yes," she said stiffly. "So, can I help you with anything else?"

He grinned, glad that Eames couldn't see the amusement on his face. "No, ma'am, I was just calling to check on you. You have my number if you should happen to need someone forcibly removed from your apartment in the next few hours."

It was too close to what she'd already been imagining doing to Goren. She smirked. "I'll keep that in mind; I just might call you."

"Good girl. I'll see you in the morning. Oh, and Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Make him beg for it."

She giggled. "I will. See you tomorrow."

She was still smiling when she turned off the phone and turned back to Goren, but the look on his face erased her mirth quickly. "What?" she said carefully.

"Who was that?"

"Just a friend."

"A friend named Mike?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed when she realized that he had blatantly eavesdropped. "Yes, as a matter of fact. Why?"

"Mike Logan?"

"Do you care?"

"Yes," he said hotly, crossing his arms. "When did you get so friendly with him?"

"None of your business," she retorted. "Now, are you going to keep trying to convince me that you don't have a problem with my life outside of work, like you were before I answered the phone? Or are you going to leave?"

"You know he's only on the squad because Deakins took pity on him," he went on, ignoring her. "He screwed his career ten years ago."

"So what? He's a nice guy."

"He's a dirty cop. You don't hang out with people like that."

"How would you know? You don't hang out with me on my time off, either. And he's not dirty. He's just got a bad temper - to which I might add that you're not exactly all sweetness and light lately, either."

"I am nothing like him!"

She snorted. "No kidding. He's got interpersonal skills."

Stung by the truth of her statement, he drew back a little. "You knew I wasn't good with people when you started working with me."

"I could handle it back then. When we started out, you treated me as an equal, even if you weren't the most tactful guy I knew. Now . . . you're different."

"I still see you as an equal," he insisted.

Hey, she thought, maybe I've finally goaded him into talking! "You don't treat me like it. You treat me like an assistant who has to be constantly monitored."

"That's not true!" he shouted, losing control of his temper for the second time that night.

"It is true!" she shouted right back into his face, stepping closer. "I won't work with someone who thinks of me as more female than cop, Bobby. It's not fair to me."

"I can't . . .!" He dragged a hand down his face. "I can't help it," he said weakly. "I notice you."

" 'Noticing' me is fine. I don't know many men in the department who haven't made a comment about it at one time or another. But most of them manage to get the hell over it!"

"Is that what Logan did?"

"Logan doesn't have any bearing on this. But for your information, yes, it is. He treats me like a person, not a body."

"Then why don't you just go work with him," Goren said bitterly.

Whatever buzz the wine had given her was long-gone now and the reality of her situation was beginning to sink in. Turning her back on him, she returned to the couch and sat down, head in her hands. "Why can't we do this?"

"Do what?" he asked, restraining himself from following her across the room.

"Be like we used to be. I don't understand what I did to make you stop trusting me."

"I trust you more than almost anyone I know," he insisted.

"Then what? What changed? Why are you acting different?" She shook her head. "Bobby, you have to tell me, now, or I'm washing my hands of this. I can't deal with it anymore. I have enough problems in my life without you being one of them."

Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes. "It's not something you did. It's something I did. Unconsciously." He opened his eyes to find her watching him expressionlessly. "I let myself break one of the cardinal rules," he added, abandoning restraint and crossing the room to stand in front of her.

"What cardinal rules?" she asked, confused.

"The ones that dictate how partners should interact."

She shrugged. "I could have told you that. I know I've reminded you before that partners have to be able to trust each other."

"That's not the rule I'm talking about."

"Ok," she sighed, "then what's the rule you're talking about?"

Bending over slightly to look her in the eye, he gripped her upper arms and pulled her to a standing position, not removing his hands even when she was cooperated and stood. "It's one of the rules people don't talk about," he said slowly, rubbing her arms lightly.

His gentle touch felt nice, she thought. Too nice. She could happily relax into it and spend the night savoring the feeling, but the rational part of her brain reminded her that things would only be that much worse in the morning. Still . . . his hands were warm. "What, uh, rule?" she managed to get out as she fought against herself.

Emboldened by her lack of resistance, he slid his arms around to her back, wrapping her in a hug and holding her close enough that she couldn't easily see his face. "It's the one where you're . . ." He closed his eyes, half of his mind screaming for him to spit it out and the other half howling that things would be made worse, not better, if he told her. "The one where, uh, you're not supposed to get emotionally involved with your partner," he fumbled.

Alex, who had been about to throw caution to the wind and rest her head on his shoulder, instantly stiffened and tried to pull away. Goren let her go with no resistance, even backing up a step himself. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, turning his face away from her. "I know it's . . . not what you want. And it's not an excuse for how I've been acting."

"Wait. Explain this to me," Alex ordered, avoiding letting herself read into his statement for the time being. "What's the connection between 'emotionally involved' and 'you're a flake who can't do your job'?"

"I don't . . . I never said that you can't do your job."

"Then why the condescension?"

He'd taken it this far, he thought. He might as well finish burning the bridge as quickly as he could. "It's not condescension. It's a manifestation of . . . jealousy."

She blinked and, staring at him, open-mouthed, sank down on the couch again. "You're saying that . . . I . . . you . . ."

"Like I said," he told her, backing away another step, "I don't expect anything from you. This is my problem, not yours. I just . . . Give me a chance to fix things, please."

"But I . . ." Alex was at a loss for words, a million thoughts and images flooding her brain. It explained so much . . . his attitude problem lately, his usual conscious effort to defer to her at work . . . those little touches of his hand on her back and arm that happened every so often. A picture of his face in relaxed moments, eyes soft and smile intimate, rose in her mind. She was willing to do almost anything to see that look, she realized.

She had no idea what to say. If she was honest, his attraction to her wasn't entirely unwelcome. She'd contributed her share of "accidental" touches and cozy moments to their partnership. It would be hypocritical to hold the same things against him. And yet . . . how was she supposed to respond? Was he waiting for her to accept or reject his feelings? She couldn't do either in her current state. She needed to get back on firm ground, to a place where she could feel in control again. She thought for a moment . . .

"Ok," Alex said briskly, raising her head and looking at him. "We can deal with this. I need to understand what to do to avoid the jealousy thing. Once we've got that licked, we'll be able to function like normal."

Goren gaped at her. That was all she had to say? He'd just revealed one of his most humiliating secrets, and all she cared about was how it could be circumvented? "That's . . . it?"

"Yes," she said shortly, wishing to hell that he hadn't chosen today to be the one day he'd talk about himself.

Dazed, he just stood and kept staring.

"What?" she snapped. "I'm accepting your apology; don't look at me like I just kicked a puppy!"

He shook his head blankly. "I, uh . . . Thank you for the forgiveness but you . . . you're not going to say anything else about what I just said?"

She had been trying to avoid this. Why did he have to be so pigheaded? "What do you want me to do? Fall at your feet? Kick you out? I really don't feel like doing either of those."

"Don't you even have . . . an opinion?"

"Don't push me, Bobby. You're getting on my last nerve."

"I . . ." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for her reaction to what he was about to say. "I need a response. It doesn't have to be . . . verbose . . . but I need to know whether you're ok with this or not." I need to know whether I should be too embarrassed to look at you in the morning, he mentally added.

"I kind of have to be ok with it," she dodged, "given that my choices seem to be either accept it or find a new partner."

Bobby's patience broke and he leaned forward, grabbed her arm, and pulled her off the couch toward him. "This isn't a game, Alex. Don't act like we can just push this to the back of our minds, because we can't - doing that is what made me such an asshole in the first place."

"Let go," she said, prying at his fingers, which he allowed her to remove. "I'm not saying it's a game. I'm saying that I don't have a response prepared to give you."

"No response," he repeated skeptically. "None at all?"

She shook her head. "None."

"You're just going to leave it at that? And when I get to work in the morning things will be back to normal?"

"Well, I-"

"That's what I thought. You know you need to respond to this," he growled. "Because now that it's out, I can't go back to normal until I know."

"I don't have anything to say," she said stubbornly.

"Ok," Bobby said softly. "Ok, fine. You don't have anything to say . . ." He was going to get an answer from her tonight one way or the other, and it looked like it was going to have to be "the other." Letting his hands rest lightly on her shoulders, he gave her a second to get used to his touch.

Then, in one smooth movement performed too quickly for her to escape, he spun her around until her back was to the wall and pinned her against it.

"Bobby," Alex gasped. Her surprise froze her for just a second too long, because by the time it occurred to her to push back, his face was in front of hers, less than an inch away.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, taking in her wide eyes. "You know that."

"B-"

"Shh," he cut her off, laying a finger over her lips. "I tried to give you the easy way out, but you wouldn't cooperate. Now we do it my way."

She should have been afraid, and a small part in the back of her mind, she was. Goren was more than a foot taller and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds, and given those facts, logic dictated that she should fear him hurting her, even accidentally.

The Bobby Goren she knew so well, though, didn't have accidents. She'd been with him long enough to know that, like most large men, he kept his strength in far better check than any average-sized man. Logic said that she should be panicking right now . . . but what she was actually feeling was a thrill of anticipation.

"I-" she began, raising her eyes to his.

"Don't talk," he ordered in a whisper an instant before pressing his lips to hers.

Her senses were overloaded, and it took only seconds for her knees to begin to buckle as she drank in every detail of his kiss.

Moving reflexively, Bobby moved his hands from her face to her sides and steadied her. "No falling," he mumbled into her mouth. "You're staying up here with me."

Alex's only response was a gasping sigh as his hands encountered the narrow strip of skin exposed by her robe.

"Alex," he breathed, pulling his lips just far enough away to speak clearly. "This is your answer." He kissed her again. "Things have changed."

Her arms wound around his neck, holding his head down to hers. "God," she said on a shudder. "I don't . . ." She sucked in a breath at his touch when his hands gently cupped her face. "This . . ." She paused, trying to remember what she had been about to say. Whatever it was, she decided, it couldn't have been as important as memorizing the moment unfolding around her.

"This," he picked up, staring into her eyes and letting one finger trace over her lips. "is going to get me killed in the morning." He allowed himself one more kiss, this one hard and fast, then pulled away from her, keeping one hand on her arm until he was sure she wouldn't fall. "I should go."

"You . . . killed . . . what?" she stuttered, wondering what she'd done wrong to make him withdraw so abruptly.

"You sound like me," he said, jokingly touching the tip of her nose with one finger. "My Eames doesn't stutter."

"Yours?" she repeated, starting to get her bearings.

He looked guiltily at her. "And that is why I need to get out of here - before I scare the hell out of you."

"You're not scaring me."

He shook his head and started toward the door. "I know you. Trust me, you'll feel differently in the morning."

"But I . . ." she attempted, following him.

"Tomorrow," he said as he opened the door. "Isn't that what you said to me when you kicked me out last night?" And then, with one last smile, he was gone.