A/N: I've been sooo blocked on this story! We're down to the last few chapters, and I suck at wrapping up loose ends and stuff, but I finally got this out. Next chapter should be the interrogation of Drew Kim...

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When they re-entered Deakins's office two hours later, they came bearing coffee, of the non-poisoned variety . . .

When Deakins had kicked them out, they had strolled down to the nearest Starbucks, still bickering over who should arrest Andrew Kim and when. The overpowering scent of coffee that surrounded them when they walked through the doors and into the coffeehouse had managed to reduce them both to silence. They'd just stood there inside the door for a second, and then she'd given him an elbow in the ribs and dashed for the counter, giving him a smug smile as she ordered her drink first and he stomped up behind her. "All's fair in love and coffee, Goren."

They'd just settled down into a pair of armchairs that sat in the corner of the Starbucks when Alex's phone rang. She threw back her head and groaned. "Why me?"

He gave her an amused look and handed her her coffee. "You drink. I'll answer it."

He didn't have to ask her twice; she sat quietly and sipped at her caramel mocha while she listened to her partner's side of the conversation:

"Goren." A pause. "No, this is hers. She's got her hands full so I picked it up."

A longer pause.

"Not quite yet, Captain," he said with a chuckle. "Give us a few years. What's up?"

She could hear the sound of Deakins speaking, but she couldn't make out the words.

"When?" Short pause. "What'd they turn up?" His eyes widened as he listened and a smile began to make its way across his face. "Ok, we're on our way. We're at Starbucks; you want us to grab you a drink while we're here?"

He held the phone a little away from his ear and she could hear Deakins babbling excitedly.

"That's fine, sir. American blend, black, and a cafe mocha," he repeated, motioning Alex to the counter. "We'll see you in a few minutes."

And so they'd arrived back at One PP, each carrying two cups of coffee and trying to drink from one of them while balancing the other.

"What's the word, Captain?" Eames asked as they made their way into his office.

"The word," Deakins said with a grin as he accepted his coffee from her, "is that the lab confirmed the brodifacoum."

Carver took his coffee from Goren's hand. "And that means that you've got your warrant whenever you're ready to exercise it. You can pick him up at your leisure."

The two detectives looked at each other. "Told you so," said Eames with a smirk.

"I never said he wasn't guilty," Goren argued, "I just said -"

"Oh for god's sake, not again!" Deakins interrupted. "Go fight over who's smarter at your desks, if you have to argue about it. You're wasting my time."

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"Time check?" Alex said as they returned to their desks.

"Four forty-five. What are you thinking?"

She rested her chin in her hand, considering their options. "We could go get him now, today, and jump right into it, or . . ."

"We could spend tonight organizing our information so we can pick him up tomorrow and have a solid plan," he finished.

"Right. What do you think?"

He grinned. "I think it gives me a good excuse to have you at my apartment tonight."

She threw her pen at him. "Bobby!"

"Sorry," he said, his smile not wavering as he rolled the pen back to her. "I think we should take the extra time, since Carver offered it to us. I don't like having all these loose ends, even if we do know who the perp is."

"Ditto. Wanna see if Deakins will let us duck out early?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Didn't you give me a lecture a few days ago for suggesting the same thing?"

"Female prerogative," she said airily. "Well?"

He looked thoughtful. "If we go now, that leaves us time to go to the grocery store so I can cook you dinner."

"Deal." She stood up eagerly. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around - you're the only male cop I know who can actually cook."

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"Ok, so," she said a few hours later, stretched out across two chairs in Bobby's kitchen, "We've got holes in a lot of stuff. Like motive: we've been assuming it was some kind of academic rivalry, but no one's been able to narrow it farther than that. We don't know what, specifically, set this off."

"Bad grades," he contributed, not turning away from the pan of mushrooms and garlic he was sautéing. "It's logical to assume that the direct reason for killing him was a matter of academic survival; if he kept getting bad grades from Li, he wouldn't have been kept around much longer. But you're right that we don't know what precipitated the actual event."

"I'm starving," she mock-whined, walking to him and slipping her arms around him from behind. "Cook faster."

He put down the spatula he'd been using and pushed her back with the newly-free hand. "Shoo. You know what happened the last time you started up while dinner was cooking."

"We ended up with a pot full of semolina mush. Ok, I can see your point." She gave him a quick squeeze, then returned to her chair and the pile of papers she'd been sorting through. "As I was saying, we've only got a skeleton for motive. Then there's means. We've got more on that; we have the poison directly linked from the vic's body to the suspect's kitchen, in a place where it shouldn't be, but . . . actually, it's not that we don't have it; it's just that we can't cement it."

"What?"

"How, exactly, he delivered the poison to the vic. I mean, it was in the coffee bag, and we found traces in the grinder, so it's logical to assume he ground it along with the coffee . . . but how do you not notice that your coffee is green?"

"Maybe he thought it was Irish coffee," he mumbled distractedly, adding chicken and a splash of wine to the pan.

She snorted. "Funny, Goren. I'm serious."

"I really don't think it's a vital link, not like having to establish what set off the killing."

"Ok, well what about opportunity? We still can't definitively place him at Li's apartment either of the two nights."

"Eames, weren't you fighting to get him arrested ASAP a few hours ago? What gives?"

"I'm playing devil's advocate before Carver gets a chance to. You'll thank me later."

He looked over his shoulder at her, raised his eyebrows, and murmured, "Oh, I don't doubt that."

"Eyes on the pan, buddy."

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"Who trained you so well?" she asked, watching him load the dishwasher as she dropped the pile of files on the coffee table and lay down on the couch after dinner. "You cook, you clean . . ."

He glanced at her, then looked back at the dishes. After a few seconds, he shut the dishwasher, wiped his hands off on a dishtowel, and walked over to the couch. "There weren't a lot of volunteers to do chores in the house when I was a kid. Especially not after mom got into the habit of breaking dishes instead of washing them," he said quietly.

"Crap." She closed her eyes. "I wasn't thinking, sorry."

"It's ok," he said, lifting her feet up so he could sit under them. "It's not really one of the bad memories."

"Ok," she said, looking thoughtful. Reaching out, she took her hand where he was resting it on her leg. "In that case . . . do you do toilets, too?"

"Alex!"

She giggled. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. I hate cleaning the bathroom."

"Are we gonna talk about toilets or are we gonna solve a murder tonight, Eames?"

"I think maybe we -" she began with a sly look on her face.

Buzzzzzzz!

Alex raised her eyebrows. "Expecting another date tonight?"

He shook his head. "Probably the super wanting to know if I broke the washer again."

" 'Again'? You broke a washing machine?"

"It wasn't my fault! One of my old shirts gave up the ghost and shredded in the spin cycle."

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

She swung her legs off his lap. "You going to answer that and take your punishment? He sounds pretty insistent."

He grinned. "You get it. He's got a thing for pretty women; if you charm him he might let me off the hook."

She sighed, standing up and meandering to the door. "Let me guess. He's 50-something, my height, weighs two hundred pounds, and never shaves?"

"Add in a stained wife-beater and you're pretty close."

"I swear," she said, flipping the cover on the peephole, "these guys must take classes in grungy- Fuck!"

"Grungy fuck?"

She backed away from the door. "No. Two separate sentences."

Now his attention was caught. "I'm assuming the super doesn't inspire you to vulgarity, so who's at the door?"

"No one."

He sighed and stood up. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Then don't answer it!" she said, stepping in front of him.

"Alex, there's only one person you'd be trying to block me from, and if it's him at the door, he's got good enough hearing to know we're standing here arguing about it." He tried to reach past her to the doorknob. "Move."

"No."

He rolled his eyes and did what he'd done the last time she tried to block his way through a door: picked her up and deposited her a few feet to the side. He was pretty sure he heard her mutter, "Jackass," as he undid the locks.

Mike Logan stood outside the door, tapping his foot impatiently. He knew there was someone in there; he'd heard voices. He considered buzzing a third time, but before he could put his finger on the buzzer, the door swung open and he found himself face-to-face with Bobby Goren. At least, he was face-to-face with Goren for a second, before Goren yelped, "Ow!" and reached down to rub his leg and glare at someone behind him. As soon as Goren looked away, Logan found himself looking at Alex, instead, as she slipped in front of Goren.

"Go away," she said flatly. "I told him not to answer the door."

"Not happening, sweetheart. He and I have things to talk about."

"You've got nothing to talk - Bobby!" she exclaimed, cutting herself off as he bumped her to the side.

"What do you want, Logan? As you can see, she's not too pleased with you right now."

Logan glanced past Goren to Alex, who was glaring at him viciously. "I warned you what I'd do if you hit her."

Bobby sighed and leaned against the door jamb, surprised to find that he was more exasperated than angry. "I didn't hit her. You're an idiot to think I ever would."

"I saw the damn bruise!"

He raised his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder at Alex, who just shrugged impassively. "I don't know what you saw, but whatever it was, it wasn't from me."

"I told you I banged into the goddamn counter, Mike!"

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, after seeing what he does when he gets pissed!"

Alex groaned. "Bobby, just shut the door."

"Actually, I'm finding this kind of interesting," he replied, partially because he really did find it interesting and partially because it was an easy way to needle her. "Go on, Logan. What was it that you were, uh, going to do to me in return?"

"I'm going to kick your ass so you know what it feels like, if you'll stop hiding behind her and come out of the apartment."

"And what is it that I'd need to do to convince you . . . that I wouldn't hurt her?"

That stumped Logan. "Uh . . ."

"I've reached the conclusion," Alex spoke up loudly from behind Goren, "that this boils down to the same thing all arguments between guys boil down to: who's got the bigger dick."

Both men's jaws dropped and there was silence as they stared at her.

"Now," she went on, "would you like me to tell you more about how I reached this conclusion? Loudly? While the door's open? Or perhaps I could settle the contest . . ."

"No!" they both said.

"Then you have five seconds to either declare a cease-fire - in which case I suggest Logan come in and help us with the case - or decide that you're really intent on killing each other, in which case I'm shutting this door and you're going to have to find another time and place to duke this out."

The two men glared at each other.

"One."

Goren shifted his weight, but said nothing.

"Two."

Logan crossed his arms and switched to glaring at Alex.

"Three," she continued, glaring right back at him.

Bobby looked at her and opened his mouth, then shut it.

"Four," she said. "You gonna say something, Goren?"

He shook his head.

"Fi-"

"Oh for god's sake, get in here before she embarrasses us both," Goren ground out, pulling the door open wider.

"That's what I thought," she said with a pleasant smile as Logan stepped into the apartment. "Now, let's review. Bobby has never hit me. I am not sleeping with Logan. And if there is even one punch thrown tonight, I'm kicking you both out on the street and forgetting about the fact that this isn't my apartment to begin with. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Bobby said meekly, although he couldn't resist putting an arm around her waist, just because he knew he could.

"Fine," Logan growled.

"Good!" she said brightly. "Now, Logan, we were just about to discuss possibilities for a more specific motive . . ."