He followed her up to her apartment in silence, directing his eyes at the ground whenever she looked back at him. Back at the party, he'd almost started to believe that he could get through the coming conversation without making a fool of himself, but things were no longer looking quite so promising on that front. He wasn't sure if she was going to laugh at him for chickening out or kick him out of the apartment for leading her on, but either way, he was pretty much doomed.

"Bobby?"

"Huh?" He looked up, startled, and found her watching him with bemusement from just inside the door of her apartment.

"Are you going to come in, or just study the hallway floor?"

He hesitated, wondering what she would say if he opted for the hallway floor."I, uh . . ."

"Bobby," she sighed, taking his arm and giving it a tug, "you just spent the whole night pretending you were in love with me, but you're still scared to walk into my apartment, which you've been in a million times before? That's ridiculous."

"Sorry," he mumbled, reluctantly allowing her to pull him over the threshold. "It's just . . ."

"Weird," she supplied matter-of-factly.

"Well, yeah."

"Well, too bad," she shot back, sounding more amused than annoyed. "Come on, two more steps and then I can close the door. I promise not to kill you in the next few minutes."

"Ok, but Eames -"

"Alex," she corrected firmly, pushing him slightly to the side so she could shut the door behind them.

"Alex," he repeated obediently. "You just, uh . . . I . . . don't really know what I'm, uh . . . what I'm doing."

"First thing you're doing is following me into the kitchen so we can sit down," she informed him, moving toward the room in question. "That work for you?"

He nodded wordlessly and followed her.

"Good boy." She patted his arm and motioned him to a wooden chair that flanked the kitchen table. "Sit. Stay."

How could she be taking this so lightly? He felt like he'd taken a flying leap off a cliff and was still waiting to find out if there would be a net below him, and she was merrily puttering around her kitchen making what looked like coffee? "Alex, aren't you -"

"Don't," she interrupted him sharply, turning to face him and accidentally scattering a scoopful of coffee grounds across the floor on the way. "Shit."

Bobby felt himself relax a tiny bit. She was obviously more nervous than she was letting on. At least that made two of them who were jittery about this conversation! "Sorry," he murmured, moving off his chair to sweep up the scattered coffee using the napkin that had been lying in front of him.

She waved a hand at him dismissively. "Leave it. I'll get it later. I'm just a little . . . jumpy."

"So am I," he said quietly.

"Oh, wonderful," she groaned with a roll of her eyes. "One of us panicking is bad enough; if both of us are nervous, this conversation is going to crash and burn."

"You're nervous?" he asked tentatively, not sure he hadn't just imagined her saying that to make himself feel better. "Really?"

He sounded like a little boy asking Santa Claus if he was really real, she thought. "You bet your ass I'm nervous, Goren. Believe it or not, I don't do this kind of thing every day. Now, you want coffee?"

He shook his head. "No. I think I just want to . . . you know, uh . . ."

"Get on with it?"

"Yeah," he mumbled guiltily.

"Ok." She dropped into the chair across from him and folded her arms on the table, resting her chin on them. "How do we do this?"

"I . . ." He looked away from her, focusing on the pile of coffee on the floor, just so he could keep his eyes on something that couldn't see the emotion in them. "I'm not sure. We . . . I'm not sorry I kissed you," he blurted before he could lose his nerve. "I just . . . wanted to say that."

Her lips quirked in a small smile at that and she reached out and covered his hand with one of her own. "I'm not sorry you kissed me, either. I guess the question now is, would either of us be sorry if we did it again?"

Bobby had no easily-constructed response for that. "I . . . Ea - Alex, this is . . . I mean, we're not supposed to . . ."

She tightened her grip on his hand pointedly. "Forget that part for now. I want to talk about what we want, not what the rule book says we have to want."

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'." She let her head fall backward until she was staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell they were going to get this decided without one of them running away screaming. "Bobby?"

"Yes?"

"How did it feel to you tonight? To be . . . able to touch me and talk to me like that, I mean."

"How did it . . . feel?" he repeated blankly, taken aback by the blunt question. "It . . . it felt good. Almost, uh, natural. I mean, well, it didn't feel odd, like it should have."

"If we were really just putting on an act, you mean?"

"Yes."

Wishing that she didn't have to steer this conversation, but knowing that if she didn't, it would go nowhere, Alex took a deep breath and scooted her chair closer to his until they were almost touching. "So it felt right to you?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"If the job wasn't an obstacle . . . if we didn't have to worry about that . . . where would you want to go from here? Wait," she added when he opened his mouth, knowing that he was about to try to brush off the question. "Don't lie to me, please. Whatever you say, I'll respect it and I'll accept it, but please just answer the question, and answer it honestly."

His eyes locked on hers, unable to disguise his shock at being called out before he'd even tried to lie. "I want to . . . that is, if I could, I'd like to . . ." He forced his stuttering to a stop and took a deep breath, then let it out. "I want . . . you," he finally managed, almost in a whisper. "But it's . . . we both know how many ways that could go wrong, and . . ."

"And you're afraid to try and fail?"

"No," he protested, "not exactly. I'm . . . maybe I'm more afraid of trying and not failing."

"Hmm." She rested her arms on the table again, watching his face closely. "And if it starts to work, then you're on the tightrope, waiting for me to leave again. That's it, isn't it, Bobby? You'd almost rather stay in limbo than take the chance."

"Look, Alex . . ."

She smiled gently. "Annie knows you better than I gave her credit for. This is what she was trying to tell me about you when she had me alone."

"Ok, wait. I'm not saying that I don't . . ." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm not quite as bad as she thinks I am. It's been years since she knew me really well. It's not that I'm afraid to try, Alex. I'm more afraid of what it will do to you . . . if it works."

"The job?"

"The job."

She put her head in her hands and sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. You need to weigh them, I guess."

"Weigh what?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Weigh the good things it will bring against the bad things it might bring."

"You're . . ." He swallowed. "You've already done that for yourself?"

"Yeah . . ." she said quietly. "Yeah, I think I have."

"And you want . . ."

She nodded, not needing to hear him finish the sentence to know what he was asking. "And so now I'm asking what you want."

"You want . . . you want me?" he said dubiously.

She just looked at him for a second, then surprised both of them by jumping to her feet. "You actually have to ask me that?"

"Uh . . ."

"Bobby." Taking his face between her hands, she bent down until she was nose-to-nose with him. "We can do this. If you want it, we can do this."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension rising.

Then, just when Alex had straightened up and was preparing to back away and admit defeat, at least temporarily, she found herself held in place by his hands as they seized her waist. Drawing in a surprised breath, she looked down at him. "Bobby?"

"You're right."

"I'm right about wha - whoa!" she broke off as he pulled her forward until she stumbled and landed on his lap. "What was that about?"

"You're right," he said again. "You're right, Alex. I'm making excuses to avoid putting me - us - on the line."

"Ok, but -"

"And," he went on, drowning out her reply, "you're right that we can do this."

"Ok . . ." She was looking at him warily now, hopeful but still too unsure to allow the hope to show.

Not bothering to reply, he slung an arm around her neck and pulled her in for a hard kiss. "Annie was right, too."

"Right about what?" she mumbled against his lips, making no move to pull away.

"Me inviting you tonight . . . it had nothing to do with convenience."

One year later . . .

Arriving home after a long day, Annette Lombardi scattered the pile of mail that was sitting on the kitchen counter, scanned it for anything that looked interesting, and found nothing, then shrugged out of her turn-out coat with a tired groan.

"That you, hon?" Mike called from the den, where he had been watching TV. "You got mail."

"Really?" Annie asked. "Like, mail that doesn't involve a bill or someone trying to sell me something?"

"Not unless your old boyfriend's quit being a cop and turned to junk mailing."

She spun back toward the counter and sifted through the mail again. "Something from Bobby? Where is it?"

"In here." His voice was accompanied by the sound of rustling paper as he shook the envelope in question. "Had an annoying feeling you'd be interested."

"Quit it." She stalked into the den, glaring her displeasure at his show of jealousy. "Give it over."

Mike, without moving from his easy chair, tossed the heavy envelope toward her.

"Damn, what is this thing?" Annie muttered to herself as she pried open the flap. "It's heavy!"

"Beats me. You could try opening it to find out."

She stuck her tongue out at the back of his head and dumped the contents of the envelope onto the coffee table. "Holy shit . . ."

Her stunned tone of voice got her husband's attention. "What?" he said uneasily, turning to see what she was looking at. "What's wrong?"

Annie continued to stare at the card in her hand for a second, then looked at her husband and grinned. "Hope your good suit still fits."

"What? Why? Let me see," he demanded, holding out his hand expectantly.

She obliged, passing the thick cardboard to him, and watched as he read the message she'd already memorized:

Robert Goren and Alexandra Eames

Cordially invite ANNETTE LOMBARDI and MICHAEL LOMBARDI

To a "reunion" for all chess nerds, law enforcement misfits, and forensics geeks

Location: Eames residence - 1027 Sunnyside Dr., Long Island, NY

Date: March 2, 2007

Wedding Ceremony: 2 pm

Reception: 3:30 pm

Attire is semi-formal

Please RSVP to 555-3247 by Feb. 1

THE END

A/N: Oh man, I think that's the cheesiest ending I've ever written, for anything, but I just liked the bookending of the invitations at the beginning and then at the end. And so it concludes . . . plagued by lagging updates and unrealistic plot points, but finished nonetheless!