A/N: You can thank PBS for this update . . . if they hadn't run a really cool show on the history of Broadway, I wouldn't have stayed up until the wee hours and finished this chapter tonight! It gets a little too sugary at the end but hell, it's three in the morning, it's the best I can do!

"Bobby . . ." Feeling slightly ridiculous even as she did it, Alex tightened her grip on his hand as they approached the door of her brother's house that weekend.

He looked down at her apprehensive expression, his face a mixture of amusement and reassurance. "She's not going to bite, Eames. You'll be just fine. Besides, you don't even need to worry about it until after we eat dinner." He gave her hand a comforting squeeze, then pressed the doorbell next to the door in front of them.

The chime of the bell was answered by the sound of rushing feet and muted squeals. "Guess the kids are still awake," Alex said dryly, noticing his look of alarm. "And don't worry," she added, mimicking the way he had tried to reassure her, "they don't bite, Goren."

He gave her a suspicious look. "That's what you said last time, too."

He was saved from her comeback by the opening of the door. "You came!" Laura exclaimed, grinning at them. She glanced over her shoulder at John, who stood slightly behind her, then looked back at Alex with a smirk. "John thought you'd chicken out."

John had the grace to turn red, but he was saved from further embarrassment by his children. "Aunt Alex!" yelled a high-pitched voice a second before two little bodies darted past their parents and slammed into Alex's knees.

She was jolted backwards into Bobby with a muffled grunt, saved from falling only by the presence of his bulk and his quick reaction as he grabbed her shoulders to stop her movement.

Within moments, John and Laura had each grabbed a twin and were alternately apologizing to Alex and scolding their children. "Amy!" Laura reproved gently. "What did I say about how you should act with your Aunt Alex?"

Amy frowned for a second, searching her memory, then smiled and repeated dutifully, "She got hurt and we need to be careful not to put any more dents in her."

Alex choked on a laugh and looked at question at her sister-in-law, who just shrugged and sighed. "That's close enough. I think she got that last part from your father, Alex."

"Yeah, I can see how she'd think discussing dents was normal after spending an afternoon with my dad," Alex said easily. "But you know, I think I like saying 'dents' instead of 'injuries,' anyway."

"See, Mommy?" Amy said smugly. "She doesn't mind."

Laura rolled her eyes and looked to her husband, who set Timmy back on his feet and said encouragingly, "Kids, why don't you go make sure that Mommy set the table the right way?"

The two children exchanged a knowing look that clearly communicated how well they saw through that attempt at a dismissal, but seemed to tacitly decide to take pity on their parents. "Ok, Daddy," Timmy chirped, pulling on his sister's hand. Within seconds, both children had disappeared into the depths of the house.

"Sorry," Laura muttered when they were out of sight. "I tried to convince them that the basement was much more interesting than you, but, well . . ." She winked. "They picked the lock."

Alex grinned, knowing that Laura was kidding. "I bet they did. So, uh . . . either of you two mind if me and Bobby actually step inside the house?"

John and Laura both looked around at that, realizing that they were in the doorway and their visitors were still on the stoop. "Come on in," John finally said, feeling dumb. "I hope pizza's ok with you guys," he added as they obeyed the invitation.

Laura nodded tolerantly at her husband, then looked at Alex and said wryly, "It better be. It's the only thing he can cook without setting the kitchen on fire."

"That's pathetic, John," Alex said, patting her brother on the arm. "What are you going to do if Laura gets sick of cooking for you and leaves you to starve?"

"Eat takeout," John said without hesitation.

She giggled. "That's probably safer, yeah. But anyway, pizza's fine with me. How bout you, Bobby?" she added, moving her eyes to her partner. She found herself relatively unsurprised to see that he seemed to have forgotten anyone was around him. "Goren," she tried again, this time punctuating it with an elbow in his side.

Bobby, who had been observing Alex's interactions with her family with scientific interest, jumped and put a hand to his side. "Oh, uh . . . pizza's ok with me."

Not fooled by his quick recovery, Alex elbowed him again. "Stop making a case study of us or I'm sending you home without any dinner, whether it's pizza or anything else."

It took him a moment to realize that she was referring to her apartment as his "home." It did have a rather nice ring to it, now that he thought about it; he wondered if she knew she'd said it. "Uh, sorry."

Laura looked from Alex to Bobby and back, taking in the silent conversation they seemed to be having, then clapped her hands and said briskly, "Well! Why don't we head into the dining room, folks?"

It was a subdued Alex who emerged from Laura's study a few hours later with her hands tightly clasped in front of her.

Bobby and John, who had spent much of the evening serving as jungle gyms for the twins but were now settled in the living room, both looked up. "Al?" John said, watching her closely from where he lounged on the couch. "Things go ok?" When his sister didn't answer, he looked past her to his wife. "Laura?"

Alex crossed the room without looking at either John or Laura, her attention completely focused on her partner, who was occupying a beat-up recliner and watching her warily. "Eames?" he managed as she approached him. "Are you -" He broke off, startled, as she dropped onto the arm of the chair and put her arms around his neck. Lifting a hand to touch her back comfortingly, he looked over her shoulder at Laura, who was watching from across the room, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Laura, not looking the least bit alarmed, just smiled and nodded at him as she mouthed silently, "She did good."

Bobby let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and slipped his other arm around Alex, resting his forehead against hers and supporting her head with one bicep. "You ok?" he murmured, quietly enough for only her to hear.

She knew he could feel the fine tremors running through her, but she nodded anyway, overruling her body. "Yeah. Just . . . home?"

He was quiet for a second, analyzing her behavior, before he pulled his head away from hers and stroked a thumb over her cheek. "Ok." Moving his eyes to the couple sitting across the room, he nodded slightly. "Laura, thank you. I think . . . I think we're going to head home now. It's been a long night."

"Of course." Laura moved toward Alex, squatting down to give her sister-in-law a hug. "You did good, Alex, really. Call me tomorrow, ok?"

Alex took a deep breath and let it out, trying to steady herself, then looked up at the other woman. "Yeah, I will. But . . . Laura?"

"Yes?"

"Is it . . . is it supposed to be this bad?"

Laura watched Bobby tighten his arms around Alex slightly at that question and fought the urge to smile. With a supporter as fierce as Bobby Goren, she thought it would be difficult for Alex to not recover, at least eventually. "The hardest part is the starting, hon," she said gently, realizing that she'd been quiet a second too long. "But it gets easier, the more you talk it out."

Alex nodded dubiously. "Ok. Bobby, can we . . .?"

"Yeah." He stood, casually drawing her up with him so it didn't look like he was assisting her. "Thank you," he repeated to Laura. "For dinner and everything else."

Laura shook her head dismissively. "Family is family, Bobby. I don't need to be thanked. Take her home now," she added, herding them toward the door, "and make sure she sleeps, at least some."

"I will."

They both drifted off to sleep within minutes of slipping into bed that night, but Bobby was jerked awake after what seemed like only minutes by screams coming from the woman beside him. It took him a moment to realize where he was and what was happening - it had been so long since either of them had a nightmare that he'd almost forgotten it was a possibility - and then he was on his knees, lurching to her side of the bed to take hold of her shoulders. "Alex!"

Eyes tightly closed, she whimpered and flung an arm toward him as if she were trying to fight him off.

Not wanting to make her any more frightened than she already was, he moved his hands off of her and instead lay next to her, half-covering her body with his. "Alex," he said again, more quietly this time, touching her cheek gently. "It's a dream. Come on, wake up."

Her body stiffened and her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Forcing them open a second time, she tried to focus on the man next to her. "What . . .?"

"Nightmare," he supplied quickly, feeling a surge of relief at her return to consciousness. "You're safe; it was just a dream."

Alex was quiet for a few seconds, concentrating on her breathing, before she turned her face into his neck and threw her arms around him. "Jesus . . ."

"Was it the same one?" he asked quietly, not sure if it was a good idea to pry.

She shook her head. "No. There . . . it . . . it wasn't him, it was just . . . there was blood and . . . and people, but I couldn't see their faces . . . and they wanted . . ." Breaking off on a sob, she closed her eyes and pressed her face harder against him. "There's no way I'm going back to sleep, not after that."

He raised one hand to cradle the back of her head and pressed a kiss against her hair. "I'm right here. Nothing's going to happen to you with me around."

Her level of distress became obvious when she didn't laugh at him for making such a chauvinistic statement. Instead, she just swallowed hard. "Bobby . . . why was it different? I mean, I was getting used to the dreams about . . . about me getting hurt. Why did it change now?"

"I don't know," he admitted, resting his cheek on top of her head. "I don't know . . . but it's not real. Do you want me to make some tea?" He smiled when he felt her nod against his neck. "Ok, but to do that, we're going to have to stand up. Ready for that?"

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in the kitchen, he in a pair of sweatpants and she in an oversized t-shirt, and sipping slowly at their tea.

"You know," Alex said slowly, "I don't know where you got this tea thing, but it really works. I almost feel sane again."

"There was never a point where you weren't sane," he corrected without looking up from his drink. "It was just a nightmare."

"Don't tell me it was 'just' a nightmare!" she snapped, glaring at his bowed head. "There wasn't anything 'just' about that thing."

Bobby, who was trying valiantly not to fall asleep sitting up, looked up at her with tired eyes. "I know. But you're perfectly sane, I promise. You just had . . . a traumatic night."

"No shit," she scoffed. "You think I need you to tell me that?"

With a sigh, he returned his eyes to his mug so she couldn't see the flash of frustration that appeared in them. At any other time, on any other day, he would have been perfectly happy to let her take out her anger on him, if it made her feel better, but he'd spent the entire evening with at least half his consciousness focused on what was going on behind the door of Laura's study and he was exhausted. Not only wasn't he in the mood for a midnight bitch session, but he wasn't sure he could stay awake for it in the first place. "Do you want to tell me about the dream?" he managed after a second, trying not to allow the weariness into his voice.

"There's . . . not really much to tell," she said with a shrug. "It wasn't really the kind of dream that had a plot; it was just, I don't know, the sensation of being scared."

"Oh," he mumbled with a nod of understanding. "Like I said, it's been a hard night. I don't think it's unusual to have a nightmare after you start . . . discussing what happened again."

Alex was silent for a long moment, waiting for him to look at her. "Aren't you going to ask me what Laura and I talked about?" she prompted when he stubbornly refused to show her his eyes.

"No."

"Why not?" she shot back.

"Eames, I'm tired. You're tired. This discussion can wait until tomorrow, unless you need to have it now."

She stared at him, intrigued by this uncharacteristic lack of curiosity, and set her mug down on the table. "Bobby?" she asked, leaning forward in an attempt to see his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "It's just . . . I'm just tired."

"Goren." This time her pronunciation of his name was a command, and she was relieved when he obeyed and lifted his head. "Tell me what's wrong."

He abruptly slammed a hand down on the table, making them both jump. "Damn it, Alex, I'm tired. Can't you understand that? You're not the only one who's had a stressful night, and . . ." Taken aback at his own harsh words, he bit off the rest of his sentence and lowered his head, staring at the wooden tabletop. "I'm sorry. Forget I said that."

Alex watched him for a second, trying to figure out what had gone wrong in this conversation. "Bobby," she finally murmured, slipping out of her chair and moving to stand behind him. "I'm sorry I woke you up like that. It can't be fun to wake up to the sound of someone screaming."

He raised his head in surprise when he felt her hand on his shoulder. Lifting his hand to cover hers where it lay, he sighed and said again, "I'm sorry."

"Are you done with your tea?"

"What?" he said blankly, confused by the change of subject.

"Your tea," she repeated, prying his fingers off the handle of the mug. "Are you done with it?"

"Uh, I guess."

"Good." She pushed both mugs into the center of the table, then wrapped her hands around his arm and pulled. "Let's go back to bed."

"Now?" he asked, gently pushing away her hands and standing up under his own power to keep her from straining herself.

"You're tired," she pointed out with a small smile. "You just said so yourself. So, let's go back to bed."

"Alex . . ."

"Shush," she ordered. "We're going to bed; stop arguing about it."

"Why?"

"Why not? I'm tired too." She took his hand and pulled, not releasing it until he began to follow her toward the bedroom. "Bobby, come on. You're allowed to blow up every once in a while; I'm not mad at you."

He shook his head. "I shouldn't . . . I didn't . . ."

Alex heaved a sigh and stepped behind him to give him a hard shove. "Move, Goren. You can continue your apology in bed, if you have to."

Not bothering to answer, he followed her the rest of the way into the bedroom. He forced his eyes away as she stripped off her t-shirt, then looked back to find her smirking at him as she said, "You're allowed to look, you know. It's self-defeating to start a fight and then cut yourself off."

He scowled, pointedly ignoring her comment as he slid into bed and turned onto his side, facing away from her.

She studied him for a second, then copied his actions, climbing over him rather than around him to get to her side of the bed. An extra knee in his stomach on the way made her point clear, and she settled down against the pillows, folding her hands across her stomach and waiting for him to say something.

"I'm tired," he finally mumbled defensively.

"So then go to sleep," she replied without moving.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just . . . can't."

"Stop sulking, Bobby."

"Sulking?" he repeated disbelievingly. "You think I'm . . . sulking?"

She turned over to face his back and raised a hand toward his shoulder, knowing he heard and felt the moment even if he didn't turn to watch it. "If you're not sulking, then why won't you look at me?" She let her hand drift toward the skin of his back, moving slowly and waiting for a reaction, any reaction.

Bobby sighed, squirmed uncomfortably for a second, and then turned over. "Why aren't you angry?"

She pulled her hand back and looked at him quizzically. "Huh?"

"I just . . ." He waved his hand in the general direction of the kitchen. "I just started shouting at you in there for no reason. Why aren't you angry?"

"You're kidding, right?" she asked, slinging an arm over his shoulders and dropping her face onto the pillow next to his.

"No!" he said, indignant at the way she seemed to be dismissing his question. "I am not kidding," he added as he tried to shrug off her hand.

"Bobby . . .." She tightened her hand slightly on his shoulder. "How long have you been staying here with me?"

He just looked at her for a moment, trying to figure out where she was going with her question. "About two weeks. You already know that."

"How many times have you had to wake me up from a nightmare, or practically carry me up the stairs, or hold my hand while I go and have another panic attack?"

"That's not . . ."

"You've been a fucking saint!" she said, giving his shoulder a playful push. "Trust me, I'm not going to bite your head off if you get sick of listening to me whine every now and then." She watched his face grow a little less tense, and smiled. "What kind of partnership is this if we can't bitch at each other every now and then?"

"Alex . . ."

"Bobby," she mimicked, giving him a teasing smile. "Come on. I'm way too tired to sweet-talk you out of this any more tonight. Can we go to sleep now?"

He gave her a considering look, holding it just long enough to make her nervous, then rolled toward her until he had her pinned to the bed. "Sure," he said, leaning in to steal a kiss before she even realized he was doing it. "But if you have another nightmare, all bets are off."

"No more nightmares," she said, shaking her head firmly as she cuddled against him. "Not when I've got you wrapped around me like this."

He gave her a cautious squeeze. "Sounds like a deal."