A/N: Continuity correction: I just realized that I gave Alex a one-bedroom apartment (thus Bobby sleeping on the couch the first night), but in one chapter I put the dog in a spare bedroom that magically appeared. So yeah...oops. Let's pretend that didn't happen and go back to the one-bedroom schema, shall we?

A heavy silence had fallen between them by the time the clock struck ten and Bobby gently took her keys from her and unlocked the door of her apartment. "C'mon," he murmured, laying a hand against the small of her back to urge her forward when she didn't seem to realize the door had been opened. "You're exhausted; let's get you inside."

Moving automatically, she obeyed the pressure of his hand and stepped inside, then just stood and watched as he closed and locked the door behind them.

"Alex," he began, turning back toward her, "you need to . . ." Whatever other words he had been about to say died in his throat as he looked into her face. Always before, Alex had carried an air of stoicism about her, cloaking herself in it even in her worst moments, and even he, whom she trusted implicitly, had rarely been allowed more than a fleeting glimpse of the woman behind the curtain.

Now the mask had disintegrated. She was looking up at him with open vulnerability in her eyes, and suddenly, nothing else was more important to him than to wrap her in his arms and shield her from any more pain.

She accepted his hug willingly, pressing against him as if she was trying to burrow into him and leave the world behind, and sighed quietly into his shoulder.

Sensing her desire for shelter, he dropped his hands into the pockets of his coat and wrapped it around her, pulling her closer.

For a second, there was companionable silence as she settled into his embrace, and then her hands drifted down to his sides and she seized two fistfuls of his shirt, tugging it out of his pants so she could slide her hands under it and flatten them against his stomach.

Bobby tensed at her touch, unsure of what she was doing and why, but knowing he wouldn't be able to bring himself to pull away, no matter what her motivation was. Instead, he willed himself to relax, silently giving her permission to touch him as much as she needed.

Alex, content to feel a warm body against hers, did nothing save move her hands across his skin for what seemed like a very long time, but even so, Bobby quickly found himself gritting his teeth and willing his libido to hell. She's looking for comfort, you idiot, not a quick lay. The woman's burying her mother tomorrow, for the love of god, and all you can think about is how much you hope one of her hands will slip a few inches? Classy, Goren, real classy.

And then, as if she'd heard his thoughts, Alex suddenly flexed one of her hands against his abdomen and casually allowed gravity to begin to pull her fingertips down toward the waist of his pants.

He swallowed a groan and grabbed the errant hand, trying to pull it back to safety. "We should get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," she replied without looking up.

"You fell asleep in the car on the way home, Alex. You're beyond tired."

"I'm fine," she repeated, taking her hands off him and stepping back. "You can go to bed if you want. I'm probably not going to sleep tonight anyway."

Well, that was likely enough, he supposed, given where they'd spent the evening. Still, there was no way he was going to blithely head off to bed and leave her alone with her thoughts. "Ok," he told her, countering her step back with a small step forward, just far enough to bring him within arm's reach of her again, "but if you're not going to sleep at all, what are you going to do for the rest of the night?"

Sighing, she turned away, slipping her fists into the pockets of her jacket and using them to repeatedly pull the material out from her sides, then back in again.

She looked like she was trying to fly away, Bobby thought as he watched the jacket flap back and forth, and although he knew she was actually just trying to keep her hands busy, he suspected that she just might actually consider taking off and flying away if she could. "Alex -"

"They want you back," she said abruptly, not slowing her jacket-flapping, "don't they."

Blindsided by the question, Bobby could only stare blankly at her. Or rather, he stared blankly at her back, since she still wasn't turning to face him. "Who?"

"Your job, Bobby," she snapped. "That thing you spend most of your life doing. That's why Riley called you tonight, right? He wants his partner back and now you need to get yourself out of here."

How could he answer something like that? Obviously, she'd seen through the semi-cryptic, I'll try to find out he had given Riley. She knew that at least part of the conversation had been about his returning to LA, and she'd pounce on him in a flash if he tried to deny it now. But with the mood she was in, he very much doubted that she'd allow him to explain the facts of the conversation as they had actually been, either. "Yes, he asked when I was coming back," he admitted with a sigh. "But what he also asked was how you were doing. He doesn't want to get his partner back at your expense." There, that had sounded reasonable, right? She'd have to at least try to understand it.

"When are you leaving?" she asked flatly, seeming to either not have heard or not have cared about his attempt at an explanation.

"What?"

"When. Are. You. Leaving," she repeated impatiently. "It's not that hard a question."

Confounded by her hostility, Bobby blurted out the only thing he could think of to say: "Are you even listening to a word I'm saying, Alex?"

She slipped her hands out of her pockets then and turned around, only to cross her arms defiantly as soon as he caught her eye. "Yeah, I'm listening. But if you hadn't noticed, you're being very careful to say absolutely nothing that means anything. Telling me what Riley thinks is not a substitute for telling me what you think."

"Alex . . ."

"Just answer the question, Bobby. Are you leaving, or aren't you?"

"I . . ." With a sigh of resignation, and fully cognizant of the firestorm he was about to ignite, he did as she asked and answered the question: "You know I have to, eventually. I can't just never show up to work again. And there's my mother to consider."

For a second as he watched her react to his statement, he thought she was going to hit him, but before he could come up with a way to head off that disaster, she took a step away from him, visibly trying to contain her emotions. "Your mother," she finally said stiffly. "Of course."

I should know by now that she's more important to you than I am. The unspoken words resounded in Bobby's head, and he knew she hadn't voiced the thought only because they both knew she didn't have to.

"Alex," he tried again, holding onto both his composure and his temper only by sheer force of will, "you're putting words in my mouth. If you would just let me explain -"

"What's to explain?" she snapped. "You answered my question and now I know you're going back to California. End of discussion."

End of discussion? Was that really what she had just said to him? Of course it was, his brain informed him, and that flippant attempt to dismiss him was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Bullshit!" he exploded as what remained of his temper took a swan dive out the window. "It's not the 'end' of anything; you just want it to be."

"Oh, I want it to be?" she shot back sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that? Of course I started this because I wanted to be told that nothing's changed and this whole week has been a joke!"

"A joke?" he echoed harshly. "Do I look like I'm amused by this, Alex? I didn't go looking for this fight - you did. So tell me, exactly whose joke is this?"

"Not mine!"

"Well it's not mine, either, so stop trying to blow this out of proportion!"

Alex just stared at him for a second. "Oh, right," she finally said sardonically. "I don't know what could have possibly made me think I had the right to know anything about your plans. How dare I get upset when I find out you're running away yet again?"

"Damnit, Alex . . ."

"What?" she challenged. " 'Damn it,' what? Stop making a scene? Or maybe I'm intruding on your recreation time and you just want to go to bed, huh?"

"No!" Before she could back out of his reach, he grabbed her arm and dragged her closer, not bothering to be gentle about it. "If you weren't so busy trying to make yourself out to be the victim here, maybe you'd actually consider listening to what I'm trying to tell you, but I guess you must be enjoying yourself too much to be concerned with a little thing like that!"

"Let me go!" she snarled, trying to jerk away from him. "Believe me, I heard every word you said. Why do you think I'm so pissed?"

"Fine." Without warning, he released her arm and watched, forcing himself not to intervene, as she stumbled backward, trying to counterbalance the momentum of her own pull. "Go back to your ivory tower and keep telling yourself that I was just going to leave and not look back. I hope you have fun."

"What the hell else am I supposed to think?" she managed, finally regaining her balance and being careful to stay a few feet away from him now. "You're the one who said you're going back, remember?"

"Drop it, Alex. I'm too tired to keep trying to convince you of something you obviously don't want to believe. You win, ok?"

"No!"

"Yes." And with that, he started to turn away, only to find a small hand clamped around his wrist.

"So help me, Bobby, if you're going to try to walk out of this apartment again . . ."

Making no move to shake off her hand, he simply raised his eyebrows. "If I try to walk out again, what?" he said coolly. "If you're going to make a threat, be sure you finish it, so we both know where we stand."

"I . . ." She blinked, taken aback by the demand. "I don't know. I'll think of something."

He pried her fingers off his wrist. "Let me know when you do."

"Bobby!"

Annoyed at both her and himself, he shook his head. "I'm not leaving the apartment, ok? But I'm also not continuing this farce of a conversation. Go to bed, Alex. You're tired. This wasn't a good night to get into a fight."

"Well excuse me for wanting to know where I stand," she retorted indignantly.

Bobby sighed. "You stand exactly where you've always stood with me, and if you don't know where that is . . . then I don't know what else I can tell you." When she opened her mouth to respond to that, he held out a hand to stop her. "Don't. Just go to bed, ok? I promise I'm not going to sneak out while you're asleep."

She gave that a few seconds of consideration, then looked at him suspiciously. "If I go to bed, what are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "Go to sleep. Out here," he added, nodding at the couch, when she looked nervously over her shoulder at the bedroom.

"The couch is -"

"The couch is fine," he interrupted firmly. "Would you really want me in bed with you tonight, anyway?"

The irony, she realized suddenly, was that she would. She did. Even after this vicious argument. Thatwasn't the right answer, though; she could see it on his face. He didn't want to sleep with her and he was, naturally, assuming that she felt the same. "Whatever," she finally muttered quickly, turning away from him before he could read her emotions in her eyes.

Bobby nodded silently and watched her retreat to the bedroom, but even as angry as he was, he couldn't stop himself from calling out before she closed the door behind her, "Alex?"

She paused in the doorway, turning to face him with hooded eyes. "Yes?"

"Whether you choose to believe it or not, I love you."

She stiffened in response to that, then forced herself to relax. Hoping he hadn't noticed the involuntary reaction, she raised her eyes to meet his for a fleeting second as she nodded jerkily.

In the next second, she softly shut the door between them.

A/N: Fear not, readers - I promise, things aren't as bad as Alex thinks they are. Things are coming to a head now . . . will he go? Will he stay? Will she drive him away before he gets around to choosing?