"Let me guess," Laura said immediately after picking up the phone when Alex called her the next evening. "You're impatient and angry with yourself for letting it happen again. Oh, and by the way, hi."

Alex adjusted the phone's handset, sat down on the couch, and sighed. "Hi. And yes, you pretty much nailed it. And no, I don't need to be told that it's irrational. And yes, I already got the 'it's a normal phase of recovery' speech from Bobby."

There was a pause. "Well," Laura finally said, "I guess you've got it about covered. So what are you going to do?"

"Do?" She thought about that for a second. "Just try to stick it out, I guess. It's not like there are many other options."

"Good girl."

"You're going way too easy on me, Laura," Alex said suspiciously when Laura didn't add to her short response. "I detect an ulterior motive for this call."

Laura laughed nervously. "Well, I guess there kind of is."

"Whatever it is, my dad better not have put you up to it!" She'd had just about enough of her father's under-the-table attempts to help her. She knew he meant well and was trying to keep from worrying her, but every time he tried something, it backfired royally.

"Nope," Laura said cheerfully. "Actually, this one's direct from the women of the clan."

"I don't think that's going to be much better." She pushed her hair out of her eyes and stretched out on the couch. "Ok, you might as well go ahead and give it to me."

"Ok. Well, it's just, you know, last night . . . you and Bobby, uh . . ." Try as she might, Laura couldn't come up with a way to phrase it that didn't sound offensive, or gossipy, or both.

"Me and Bobby what?" Alex prompted. "I thought you guys already knew that he's the only one I feel safe with when I panic."

"We do. That's not really what this about."

"Not really . . ." Alex repeated blankly. Then it occurred to her. "If you're calling to ask me about what's going on between me and him, you've wasted your dime."

"Um, well, it's not exactly that." Actually, it was, but she was trying desperately to think of a way to pose the question without letting on that that was what she meant.

Alex groaned. "Laura, come on. You, of all people, should know to stay off my back about us!"

"I'm not calling to lecture you," Laura insisted. "I'm just calling to . . . talk about it."

" 'Talk about it'?" Alex echoed. "What's there to talk about, if you're not going to lecture me?"

Laura sighed. "There's the part where you're starting to become really obvious about it, for one thing, and it's only a matter of time until your dad figures out for sure that you care about each other a lot more than plain old partners should."

"Obvious about what?" Alex said, trying to sound confused.

"Come on, Alex. You guys didn't even try last night. I mean, Bobby hanging out downstairs with the kids instead of sticking to you like glue? Your mom having to send Rob to find him? Don't you think that makes it a little obvious that he's not following you around just out of concern anymore?"

"Ok, look," Alex said stiffly. "We're just . . ."

"Dating," Laura finished for her. "To put it politely."

"I am not telling you about my -"

"I'm not asking you to," Laura assured her hastily. "I'm just saying maybe you guys should decide whether you're just partners or whether you're a couple. Or at least decide which to act like around other people."

"It's . . . more complicated than that," Alex sighed, not happy with having this topic brought to her attention.

"It always is, until you boil it down," Laura replied. "Then you usually find that it comes down to something pretty simple."

"I'm not staying on the phone for a lecture about sex, Laura."

"I was referring," Laura replied, obviously amused by her sister-in-law's assumption, "to the matter of whether each of you is happy with the other."

"Ok, look," Alex said, trying to control her temper and not just slam down the phone. "You've been married for a long time. I assume it's been quite a while since you had to do the 'Are we or aren't we' dance, but believe me: the rules are not that simple."

Laura snorted. "You're making excuses. You know it and I know it, and maybe -"

Alex tuned Laura's voice out as Bobby appeared from the bedroom, holding her open cell phone and looking worried. When he saw that she was on the apartment phone, he whispered her name and held the phone out toward her.

"Uh, Laura," Alex said, awkwardly adjusting the phone in her hand, "I have to go. Bobby's telling me I have a call on my cell, and it looks important."

"Ok. But Alex . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Think about what I said."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, right. Talk to you later." She hung up the phone and turned to Bobby. "What's up?"

He held out the phone again. "It's Deakins. Said he'll only talk to you about why he's calling."

He was obviously displeased by being kept out of the loop, and she patted his cheek as she took the phone from him. "Don't worry; you know you'll probably get it out of me as soon as I hang up."

When he just sighed and wandered toward the kitchen, she put the phone to her ear. "Yes, Captain?"

"Eames. Uh, hi. I'm sorry for calling at night, but . . ."

"You're apologizing," she noted. "That usually means I'm about to get bad news."

"Well it's . . ." He paused, then said, "Is Goren in the room with you?"

"Huh?" She looked up and spotted him sitting in a kitchen chair, staring at the wall and trying to pretend he wasn't listening to her side of the conversation. "He's in the kitchen. Why?"

"Can he hear you?"

She blinked. "Uh, I guess. Why?" she said again.

"I want you to go in another room. Somewhere where he'll have a hard time eavesdropping."

"Captain," she said tentatively, "I don't think -"

"Just doit, Alex!"

Deakins didn't often raise his voice. She could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd done it to her. Something was obviously very wrong. "Ok, ok, fine," she said as she inched toward the bedroom, trying not to catch Bobby's attention as she moved. "There," she said, gently shutting the door behind her. "I'm behind a closed door. Now what the hell's going on?"

"I . . . sorry about that." She could almost see him rubbing his forehead and looking rueful as he spoke. "This just isn't a question I want to ask, and it's definitely not one Goren wants to hear."

She sat down on the bed. "Ok, sir. I understand, but . . . will you please just tell me what the problem is?"

"Steven Brewer killed ten children, Alex."

"Huh? No, he didn't. There were nine -"

"No," he interrupted pointedly. "There . . . there were ten."

"Captain, if you don't tell me what the hell you're talking about, I swear to god I'm hanging up this phone."

"He confessed to killing one more kid, Alex."

"That's . . ." She paused, confused. "Isn't that good news, if he confessed?"

"Theoretically, yes, but the thing is, his trial is in a week and he's playing games."

"What kind of games?" she asked cautiously.

"Mind games. He won't give up the kid's identity or where the body is unless we meet his conditions. Look, Eames . . ." he attempted gently.

Now she was the one rubbing her forehead as she got a sneaking feeling that she knew what her boss was talking about. "And what are his conditions?" she asked quietly, not really wanting to know.

"He . . ." Deakins sighed. "Damn it, I hate having to do this to you, but . . . he says the only person he'll give the specifics to is you."

She felt a tide of panic rush through her, then recede. "Me?" she repeated weakly.

"Yes. Now do you see why I didn't want Goren in the room for this?"

"Yeah . . . yeah, I do. He wouldn't want to let me even consider it."

"That's what I thought, too. Ok look, here's the thing: it's possible this is just a power play on Brewer's part. He's not on death row, at least yet, and there's no reason we can't keep sending in other interrogators to work the information out of him. I don't want to make you do this, but . . ."

Alex scrubbed a hand down her face. "But if I say no, we can't be sure that he won't go and clam up until after the trial. And if he waits until then . . ."

"The prosecutors probably won't bother with a tenth charge if he's already gotten death for the first nine," Deakins finished. "And then he won't have any incentive at all to tell us, and some kid out there is going to stay lost forever."

"God," she managed, shuddering at the thought of two parents who might never know what happened to their child. Could she leave them to that, knowing that she could have helped but was too frightened to?

"Alex," he said gently, correctly guessing her train of thought. "Right now, your well-being is my main concern, ok? I'm not sending you in there if it's going to . . . hurt your recovery, no matter how guilty it might make either of us feel. Do you understand me? You do not have to do this if you don't feel ready."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You know I'm not going to refuse. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't at least try to get the information out of him."

"Eames -"

"When do you want me to do it?"

"It has to be before the end of this week. But wait a second, Alex. Brewer might have his conditions, but I have conditions too."

"Conditions?" she echoed. "Like what?"

"Like Goren and at least one guard are going to be in that room with you at all times, first of all. And I want a doctor there standing by."

"Captain," she said indignantly, "believe me, once was enough; I'm not going to let him get to me again. I don't need a doctor to be there."

"Just . . . just humor me, ok? For once, would one of you guys just please do what I say?" he snapped. "You don't want to play by my rules, Eames? Then you don't go in, it's as simple as that. I don't care about how it will look to people."

He was right and she knew it, as much as she didn't want to admit it. Alex tried to swallow the lump that was rising in her throat. "What the hell am I supposed to tell Bobby? He's never going to go for this."

"That, I'm leaving up to you. He's a lot more likely to listen to you than me. Just . . . present it to him as a done deal or something."

"Yeah," she snorted, " 'or something' is right. It's not going to matter how I present it."

"Well," Deakins said cautiously, "as much as I don't want to play dirty . . . I'm the one who authorizes or doesn't authorize it. He's your partner, but he doesn't get to make your choices for you. If you have to, remind him of that."

Alex grimaced at the thought of having to throw something like that in his face. God, that would hurt - for both of them.

"Eames?" Deakins said when her silence had stretched to ten seconds. "You still there?"

"What? Yeah. Just trying to think of a way to keep things from getting worse," she sighed.

"Alex," he said, sounding subdued, "I'mtruly sorry for putting this on you. I know how much you probably don't want to see the guy ever again. Anything I can do for you to make it easier . . . you just tell me, ok?"

"Yes. Thank you, sir."

"Ok. I'll call you when I have a date and time for the . . . uh, interview."

"Wonderful," she muttered with tired sarcasm. "Good night."

"Night, Eames."

She closed her phone and just stared at it lying in her hand for a few seconds. Who knew such an innocuous little object could convey such bad news?

A knock sounded on the door. "Alex?" Bobby called through it. "Are you ok?"

With a sigh, she stood up, tried to compose herself, and then opened the door. "I'm fine."

He dropped the hand he had been knocking with and studied her face. "No, you're not. What did he want to talk to you about?" he demanded.

She clasped her hands together behind her back and wrung them nervously. Better to rip the bandage off quickly and get it done with. If only that thought actually made her feel better! "Brewer had a tenth victim," she finally said quietly. "But he won't give up any more information than that unless it's to me. He . . . Deakins wanted to know if I would be willing to go in and talk to him so we can find the body, wherever he disposed of it."

Goren just stared at her in utter disbelief.

A/N: Yeah, you guys can see where this is going. But how will Alex handle facing her worst fear, and what will Bobby have to say about it?