A/N: Ugh, another chapter that required 3 or 4 rewrites to get to something approaching readable. This chapter kept trying to turn into a morality play about the stigma attached to mental illness, and that's just way too serious for a fluffy story like this. I still don't like what I ended up with, but it's the best I can do.

A few minutes later, she padded into the kitchen and spoke his name so softly that he almost wasn't sure whether he'd heard it or just imagined it.

He put down the plate he'd just taken out of a cabinet and turned to her, keeping his face neutral. "Right here."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said, wrapping her arms around herself as if she were cold. "I know you're just trying to help."

He just nodded and took the plate to the fridge to retrieve a slice of leftover pizza. "This ok?" he asked, displaying it to her.

"What, pizza? It's fine," she said absently. "I'm more interested in the fact that you didn't respond to the apology I just made."

"I was waiting for you to tell me your decision." He stayed focused on the pizza instead of her as he put it in the microwave and turned the machine on.

She sighed and walked farther into the room, leaning against the counter next to him. "Why can't you be easily distracted, just for one night?"

He said nothing until the microwave beeped and he'd set the pizza in front of her, then he pointed to the plate and ordered, "Eat." A second later, he added, "And I guess distraction just isn't in my nature."

"Fine." She obediently took a bite, then said through the mouthful, "What do you think of Laura?"

"Laura?" It took him a second to place the name. "Your brother's wife?"

"Yeah." She swallowed, then shrugged. "She's a psychologist. Would it get you off my back if I talked to her?"

He thought about that. "Well, treatment by friends or family members isn't generally recommended - conflicts of interest are too common. It would be better to go to someone else. Oh, and keep eating," he added, tapping her plate with one finger.

"We had a big lunch. Sue me if I'm not too hungry right now. And I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm going to spill my guts to some stranger who doesn't know me or what I'm like." A hint of pugnacity still in her expression, she looked down at her pizza and added, "By the way, as I recall, it's just about your dinner time, too."

"I'm not hungry," he said mildly, deciding that he was going to have to aim for the lowest common denominator to get her to agree to any therapy at all. At least for the moment, it wasn't worth fighting her about it.

"Then stop trying to force me to eat, you big bully!"

He grinned and slid his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Just finish the slice and I'll stop being a bully."

She took one of her hands away from the pizza to reach back and muss his hair affectionately. "When it comes to me, I don't think you're ever going to stop being -"

A phone rang. "Mine," she said, putting the pizza back down on the plate. "Guess I'm not destined to have dinner. Pass me the phone?"

Keeping one arm around her waist, he reached back to grab her phone off the table. "Joanna," he told her, glancing at the caller ID as he handed it to her over her shoulder.

She groaned. "She's calling for a status report. Scat," she said, elbowing him playfully. "This is going to be girl talk."

"I like girl talk," he protested, replacing his free arm around her as she opened the phone.

"No you don't," she corrected in a voice that made it clear that he'd better not, if he knew what was good for him. "Hi, Jo."

"Hey. I don't what?" Jo answered, confused.

"Not you. Him."

" 'Him,' like Bobby? Ooh . . .!" Jo's high-pitched gasp of approval was audible even to Bobby, who winced and turned his head to get a better look at Alex's face as she talked. "So I take it things went well, since you're both still alive and in the same room?"

She thought back to the night before, trying to remember how they'd ended up in bed. "I guess you could say that, yeah. At least, they went well after he got done threatening to cuff me to the bed."

"What?"

"Which was after he chased me into the bedroom," Alex went on, aiming for shock value now. "But of course . . . that was all after he looked down my shirt and then calmly asked if I wanted to hear about his day."

"What?" Jo said again. "Alex, are you drunk?"

"I'm . . ." She paused to try to push Bobby back a step when she felt him nip at her ear. "Stop it!" she whispered to him, but found herself completely unsurprised when he just grinned unrepentantly and moved his mouth to her neck.

"Alex?"

"Sorry," she said, elbowing him again. "No, I'm not drunk. I'm just . . . being distracted against my will."

Bobby snorted and mumbled something that sounded like, "Yeah, right," into her skin.

"Distracted?" Jo repeated. "Am I interrupting something over there?"

"Yeah," she said with a sigh, "you're interrupting Bobby trying to force me to eat a dinner I don't want."

A giggle from Jo. "And that's supposed to explain the heavy breathing I hear?"

"He snores." As an explanation, it didn't make sense, but it was the best she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

He pulled his head off her shoulder and looked at her indignantly. "I do not!"

"Shut up," she muttered. "He's just being annoying, Jo. Keep talking."

"Uh, if you say so. So," she went on excitedly, the pitch of her voice starting to rise as she switched into gossip mode, "tell me about it! Should I be jealous?"

Alex swallowed a laugh, knowing intuitively what the other woman was asking. "Um . . ." There was no way she could answer that question at the moment without either cracking up or turning embarrassingly red, considering he was pressed against her back with his arms around her and his head way too close to the phone. "Yes," she finally managed to choke out, praying that his powers of deduction - and hearing - were on vacation for the night.

"I knew it!" Jo squealed.

"Hey, keep your mind off my . . . that. What's wrong with the one you've got, anyway?"

Bobby tucked her hair behind her ear and whispered into it, "What are you telling her to keep her mind off of?"

"Bobby . . ." She shook her head and sighed, then turned her attention back to the phone. "Jo, hold on." Lowering the phone and turning around in Bobby's arms, she glared at him. "Would you go away? You don't want to hear this stuff!"

"Hey," he said with exaggerated innocence, "I'm interested, what can I say?"

"Trust me on this, Bobby, You really, really, really are not interested in hearing this stuff. Leave now or you're going to lose your innocence when it comes to how specific women can get."

He gaped at her, clearly not having expected that warning. "What are you going to do, give her a . . . a play-by-play?"

In truth, she wasn't going to tell Jo much more than she already had, but he deserved a little payback after hanging over her shoulder and purposely being annoying. "That, and player statistics," she told him with a wink and a smile.

"Alex!"

Her smile got bigger. "Told you you wouldn't want to hear it. Now go make yourself scarce; I'll only be a few more minutes."

Still looking slightly stunned, he wandered out of the room, shaking his head in disbelief. A second later, he reappeared in the doorway and blurted, "You're not really going to tell her that stuff, are you?"

She smirked. "I'm not answering that question until I'm done with this call, so the longer you bug me, the longer you'll wonder."

She watched him go again, waited five seconds to make sure he was gone, the put the phone back to her ear. "Sorry about that, Jo. Bobby was being difficult."

Jo, sounding like she was trying to keep from laughing out loud, said, "Do I have bad hearing, or did you really just tell him that we're going to discuss 'player statistics'?"

Alex smothered a giggle. "I did. He was being a pain in the ass; I figured I'd give him something else to think about."

"Well, I won't keep you much longer, since you probably want to go give him another 'something else to think about.' I basically just wanted to check that you got some action and that you're feeling ok. Oh, and from Sean I'm supposed to tell you that he's trying to kill the rumors."

"Let's see," Alex said, considering Jo's list. "Your answers are yes, yes, and you can tell him I'm not really worried about it."

"You're not?" Jo said dubiously. "Why?"

She thought about that for a second. "Probably has something to do with the fact that I'm higher-ranked and higher-paid than all the schmucks doing the gossiping." And because I know if it gets really bad, all I have to do is sic Bobby on them.

Oh god, had she really just thought that? What happened to fighting your own battles, Eames? What are you, a freakin' damsel in distress?

"Oh. Well, that makes sense," Jo said. "Listen, I gotta go . . . Sean lost the TV remote and he's about three seconds from throwing a temper tantrum. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Wait . . . he's having a tantrum because he lost the remote? Why not just stand up and change the channel?"

"Alex, don't even ask me to try to explain male logic. Besides, you're the one who raised him, not me!"

Grinning, Alex sighed and rolled her eyes at nothing. "Ok, then I'll let you go. Tell Sean 'hi' and to stop being a jerk."

Jo snorted. "Like that's ever gonna happen!"

"Done?" Bobby asked cautiously as she walked into the living room a minute later.

She gave him a beatific smile and casually sat down next to him on the couch. "Yep."

He waited for her to provide more information, then looked hard at her at her when she didn't. "Did you really tell her that stuff?"

She would have liked to draw out the tension and torture him some more, but she decided to take pity on the poor guy, for both their sakes. "No, I didn't. But thinking I did is what you get for bugging me while I'm on the phone!"

He let out a breath. "You really didn't? You're not lying to me?"

"Ok, Goren, let's get a few things straight here," she admonished lightly, sitting up straighter and shaking a warning finger at him. "Number one, I don't lie to you except when there's a really, really good reason. Number two, what you heard me tell her is all I told her. And number three," she finished, shifting closer to him and smirking, "even if I was talking about it, it's not like you have anything to be ashamed of."

"I . . ." He stopped, blinked, and closed his mouth again as he processed what she'd said. "Oh."

Hah, she thought, so far tonight, it's 2 points for me, none for Bobby. Hmm . . . let's see how else I can torment him . . . ooh, dangerous girl-type questions! "Bobby?" she said, making her voice sound tentative.

That was not a good tone. He might not be the best when it came to understanding the rules of relationships, but that kind of serious tone just couldn't mean anything positive. "Uh . . . what?" he said reluctantly.

"Can I ask you a really important question?"

Warning lights began flashing in his head. Was he in trouble? Had she seriously been angry about him teasing her during the phone call? He swallowed. "Sure."

He sounded like he was two seconds away from trying to hide under the rug, she thought as she tried not to snicker. Maybe she'd let him off the hook a little quicker than she'd intended to. "Ok," she said quietly, doing her best Girl-About-To-Ask-A-Question-There's-No-Right-Answer-To impression. "If you couldn't find the remote control . . ." She paused, noting with amusement that his expression had changed from near-terror to confusion, then finished, ". . . what would you do?"

"What?" he asked blankly, almost able to feel his mental gears grinding as he tried to follow her question.

Alex watched his face for a few seconds, then burst out laughing and slumped against him. "Oh man, you should have seen your expression! I totally win tonight!"

He looked down at where she was leaning against his right arm and shaking with laughter. "That was cruel, Eames. You can't do that to a guy!"

"I just did," she pointed out, eyes twinkling. "But you know, I really would like to know the answer to my question."

"About the remote control?" he asked, easing his arm out from under her head and replacing it over her shoulders. "Why?"

She shifted so she could rest her head on his shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Jo had to get off the phone because Sean was pitching a fit over the remote getting lost. Apparently it's too difficult to just get up and change the channel. So now I'm wondering if he's just an idiot, or if it's a guy thing."

He thought about that for a second. "Am I supposed to tell you the truth or the, uh, right answer?"

"The truth, obviously," she said, quashing the urge to groan something along the lines of duhhhh. "I already know what the right answer is."

He toyed idly with her hair, sliding his fingers in and out, while he considered his answer. "Actually, I probably wouldn't do either."

"That's not an answer," she grumbled, digging a fist into his side. "Come on, tell me."

He smiled apologetically. "I'd probably just give up on the TV and pick up a book - even though that's not one of the choices you gave."

"Oh, you are no fun!"

"Probably not," he agreed. "But it appears that you're stuck with me, at least until you can kick me out without re-breaking a rib. And since I'm busy being no fun, I might as well ask - would you, uh, do me a favor?"

She beetled her brows. "What kind of favor? Is this going to involve handcuffs?"

He couldn't help but laugh when he noticed that she didn't appear to be averse to the idea. "No, it's something you'll probably like less."

"Than being cuffed?" she asked with raised eyebrows. "Ok, tell me what it is."

"Call Laura."

"Uh, Bobby . . . I already said I'd do that, remember? It was my idea in the first place," she reminded him.

"No, I mean now. Tonight."

She was so confused by his sudden change from teasing to serious that she didn't realize he had snuck her phone out of her pocket until he handed it to her. "What . . . I can't call her tonight! It's past . . ." She stopped, realizing that she had no idea what time it was.

She was about to check her watch when he answered the question for her. "It's not even nine yet. The twins will be in bed, right?" he said, looking to her for confirmation. "But she won't be?"

She was impressed that Bobby could remember that Laura had kids at all, let alone twins, considering how overwhelmed he had been the two nights that he had encountered her. "I guess. Probably."

"Then call her." This time, he opened the phone and started pushing buttons, trying to get to her phone book. "Now."

"Geez, fine. Keep your shirt on." She pulled the phone out of his reach and scrolled through the Contacts list to John and Laura's home number. "There, I'm pressing send, are you happy?"

"Yes," he said simply, leaning back against the couch so he could watch her comfortably.

She listened to the ringing in her ear, hoping that John wouldn't be the one to answer the phone. He'd have too many questions.

"Hello?" It was John. Of course it was John; how could she have expected her luck to actually be good for once?

"Hey, it's me," she said, striving for a tone of voice that didn't yell Hi, I'm calling to discuss my mental instability.

"Me, as in Beth, or me, as in Alex?" he replied. She and her younger sister had always confused people on the phone as children because they sounded so alike, but tonight, Alex suspected that John was just teasing her.

"The sister with the busted everything," she told him, feeling a smile tug at her lips.

"Other than your face, that is - according to what I heard through the grapevine. What's up?"

"Wait, what did you hear through the grapevine?" she asked warily.

John chuckled. "What I 'heard' is that half the guys in Narcotics asked Sean for your number today."

"They can bite me," she muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Most of them are married; it was disgusting." Noticing Bobby's eyes narrowing, she cleared away her look of distaste and gave him a cheerful grin, then settled back against his chest. "But anyway, uh, I was kind of calling to talk to Laura . . . is she home?"

"Laura?" John repeated skeptically. "You're calling to talk to my wife? Does that mean this is about me? What'd I do?"

"Just put her on the phone, John."

"Yes, ma'am."

She heard the clunk of the phone dropping onto a table - it was getting to be a habit in her family, apparently - and the distant sound of voices, and tried not to think about the fact that she was about to admit to a psychological professional that she was going slightly batty. Before she could get into too much of a panic, though, Laura picked up the phone and said, "Alex? Is something wrong?"

Everything! she wanted to shout, but instead she just took a somewhat shaky breath and tried to sound coherent: "Nothing's, uh, wrong, no. It . . . I was just, uh . . . well, I've been having some . . . some trouble - uh, I mean mentally - and, um . . ."

"Ok." Laura's voice came through the phone sounding vaguely amused. "First thing you need to do is take a breath before you go and pass out or something." She waited a few seconds, then asked, "Did you breathe?"

"Yes." She glanced at Bobby, who was looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and concern, and took another deep breath.

"Good. Now, were you trying to say that you've been having psychological problems . . . which, I'd assume, center around when you got hurt? Are you calling me because you have questions?"

"Uh, yeah." She hated talking about this. Just thinking about it make her want to go hide under a rock, and talking was ten times worse.

Her thoughts about that were interrupted by the sight of Bobby's hand moving in front of her face. He stroked his fingers down her cheek to her chin, which he then used to tilt her head back so he could kiss her ear playfully. She widened her eyes and looked at him in mock-reproval, but he just smiled and used his other hand to start rubbing her back.

"Alex?" Laura said loudly. "Are you there?"

She jerked her attention away from the hand on her back. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. Sorry."

"That's ok. It sounds like you're not doing too great with explaining what's going on, so how about I ask you a few questions and you tell me when I get things right or wrong. That sound good?"

"I guess."

"Have you been having nightmares or flashbacks?"

She looked at Bobby out of the corner of her eye and considered her answer to that. "I . . . was having nightmares for the first few weeks. They've gotten better since I have someone . . . uh, someone with me."

"Having a burly guy in bed with you is a good way to feel safe, huh?" Laura asked with a laugh. "I can buy that. Ok, next question: have you been having anxiety? By that I mean things like panic attacks, daydreams where you replay the attack . . . do you get nervous going near where it happened? Anything like that?"

All of a sudden, she had a headache. Raising one hand to rub her forehead, she tried not to sigh; a second later, Bobby's hand moved from her chin to her hair and began massaging her scalp, and this time she did sigh before turning her attention back to the phone. "Panic attacks. They're really bad, and I . . . I had one at work today, and . . ."

"Yikes," Laura said sympathetically. "I can only imagine how horrible that would have been. What did you do?"

Alex snorted self-deprecatingly. "Nothing. I couldn't make myself do anything, and I was just lucky Bobby came along to save me."

"Hmm." Laura didn't sound like she agreed with that, but she didn't make any protest. "Can you answer a few more questions?"

"I guess," Alex said quietly, although at the moment, she would much rather have run to bed and pulled the covers over her head.

"Ok. I'll stick some of them together, it's quicker. Number one: do you find yourself avoiding situations where you might get hurt again? Not necessarily where it happened. Number two: have you been feeling emotionally numb, like you're not really feeling the things you experience?"

"Um . . . I don't really know the answer to the first one. I try to avoid getting between a person and a wall, because that's when I have the panic attacks . . . but other than that, I really haven't gone anywhere where I could get hurt. Bobby sticks to me like glue."

"Ah, but such pleasant glue he is," Laura sighed admiringly.

"Laura!" Alex exclaimed with a small giggle. "Not only is he not up for grabs, but you're married to my brother who, as I recall, is just as tall and . . . what did you call it, burly?" She noticed that Bobby was paying closer attention, obviously having realized he was being discussed. "Besides," she told Laura, "Jo already called dibs on him."

Bobby's fingers trailed from her scalp down to the back of her neck, a silent communication of You're the one I'm interested in that she didn't miss, and she shivered. "Oh, and the answer to the second one is no, I'm definitely not feeling any, uh, numbness."

Laura laughed. "Yeah, that would definitely make a new relationship suck. Good for you. Ok, Alex, here's the deal," she said, switching back to a more serious tone. "Some of the stuff you're describing corresponds to symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Now, that's not necessarily what is going on, but it's a possibility. I think - speaking as your brilliant, professional sister-in-law - that you ought to get some therapy to work things out. Especially if it's interfering with your work, which it sounds like it is."

Alex groaned. "I was hoping you'd say I was perfectly normal so I could shut Bobby up." She heard him take an annoyed breath at that, and a second later his hand disappeared from her neck, only to reappear sliding up her back, unhooking her bra on the way. "Stop it!" she hissed, glaring at him.

He just gave her an unrepentant grin and leaned down to kiss the area of her back he'd just uncovered.

"Alex!" Laura's voice called teasingly through the phone. "You're gonna have to either make out with him or talk to me, notboth at the same time. Can I get a little attention please?"

She wiggled her shoulder blades, trying to get rid of him without having to stretch her arms. "Sorry. He had too much, uh, coffee today. And believe me, there's no making out going on. What were you going to say?"

"I was asking if you wanted me to set you up with a therapist, someone I know is good."

"Uh . . . well I, uh, well . . ."

The reappearance of her nervous stammering got Bobby's attention, and he raised his head and looked at her curiously.

"I was kind of hoping that, uh, you might be able to work with me," Alex blurted quickly.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a second. "That's not really . . . something most therapists do. Work with family members, I mean. It tends to be more difficult."

"Oh." She let out a small breath of relief, finally seeing a way out of this. "That's ok. I told him you probably couldn't, but he didn't believe me."

His eyes, which had been drifting around the room, snapped back to her face. "She said no?" Alex nodded, and he held out his free hand. "Give me the phone."

"No. She said she can't, Bobby. Let it go."

"Give me the phone, Eames, or I'm leaving you home tomorrow."

"Ooh, last name," she said with false bravado as she scowled and handed him the phone. "I'm shaking in my shoes."

He didn't bother to reply to her, instead moving his attention to the phone. "Laura? This is Bobby. Alex didn't quite communicate what the problem is here."

"Bobby!" She reached for the phone, "accidentally" hitting him in the back of the head as she tried to grab it out of his hands. "Don't talk about me like I'm five years old!"

He covered the phone with one hand and glared back at her. "Then don't act like a five-year-old who forgets important parts of her explanation!" Then, uncovering the mouthpiece, he said, "Sorry, Laura. What I was about to say was that she . . . she, uh, didn't tell you an important part of her problem, which is that I . . . well, I practically had to twist her arm and frog-march her to the phone just to get her to agree to talk to you. She refuses to consider therapy from a stranger."

Laura was silent for a long second. "She's refusing therapy?"

"She said she won't talk to - and I quote - 'some stranger.' I explained the conflict of interest but . . . well, she's being Alex."

"Who do you want me to be, Carver?" Alex muttered sarcastically into his shirt sleeve.

"So she won't talk to a stranger, but she'll talk to me?" Laura sighed. "Yeah, I can see how we're kind of stuck." There was a short silence, then she sighed again. "Put her back on the phone, please."

Without a word, Bobby took the phone away from his ear and held it in front of Alex's face. She sat up slightly so she could see his expression, but couldn't read anything on it that told her what Laura had just said to him. Holding back a groan, she took the phone. "Hello?"

"You really won't consider talking to anyone else?" Laura asked bluntly.

She shrugged, although the only one who could see it was Bobby, who didn't react other than to tighten his hold on her. "Bobby's the only other person I know who's got training in psychology, and he won't do it because he says he's 'too close.' I'm not going to go talk to some stranger!" Her tone was getting more and more defensive, but damn it, she was really getting sick of answering the same question over and over!

"Oh. Don't get worked up, Alex," Laura said calmly. "If I'm the only way you'll accept therapy, then we'll do it. When would you like to start?"

"Never."

"That's not an option, sorry. How about . . . hmm, are you working this weekend?"

Alex blinked, realizing that she wasn't sure. "Bobby?" she said, looking up at him. "Are we working this weekend?"

"Nope. Deakins's orders."

"Nope," she repeated to Laura.

"Why don't you and Bobby come over for either lunch or dinner on Saturday, then. The men can entertain each other with war stories while you and I talk. We'll lock the kids in the basement or something," Laura joked. "Which would be better for you, lunch or dinner?"

Again, she looked to Bobby and repeated the question. "Let's do dinner," she told Laura a second later. "What time?"

"How about five? A little early, but it gives us plenty of time afterward to work."

"Working" sounded rather ominous to Alex, but out loud she only said, "Five is ok. Let me know if you want us to bring anything, ok? Salad, dessert, tranquilizer darts for the kids . . ."

"I will. Try to keep yourself away from any big stressors tomorrow, ok? No getting into gunfights or anything," Laura said, only half-joking.

"I'll try, but no guarantees."

"Well, just as long as you honestly try. Do you want me to tell John what's going on when he asks, or would you rather just keep it between us?"

Alex thought about that. "Will he keep his mouth shut about it?"

"Believe me," Laura said, the smirk audible in her voice, "I've got him well-trained when it comes to keeping his mouth shut."

"You can tell him, then. It's not that I'm really embarrassed about it, but I just, you know, don't want it getting around."

"Totally understandable. Well if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you go for now . . . you're probably tired. But you have my cell number, right? You call me if you need to talk to someone between now and Saturday," Laura told her, emphasizing call me to add weight to the command. "Ok?"

She couldn't imagine herself dialing up her sister-in-law in the middle of the day for anything other than an emergency, but she appreciated the sentiment. "Yeah, I will," she told the other woman.

"Good. Say hi to Bobby for me, ok?"

"Sure," Alex said, although he could probably hear the greeting as it came through the phone, anyway. "I'll talk to you later, then."

"Yep. Bye!"

"Bye."

She closed her phone and sighed.

"Everything ok?" Bobby asked, watching as she laid her head on his shoulder tiredly.

"I guess." She rested a hand on his knee and leaned more into him. "We're having dinner with Laura and John on Saturday night. She said we're going to 'work'," she said, making quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "after we eat."

"Good." He kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her. "It won't be as scary as you think it will. And I'll be there."

"I know," she said softly, lifting her head to look at him. Then, urging his head down so she could reach his lips, she kissed him and murmured, "Thank you."