Eames watched him as he worked in the kitchen. Knowing he liked to work alone, she normally interfered with everything he did, just to tease and annoy him, but not tonight. Tonight, she was worried about his state of mind. He wouldn't settled into an easy banter with her when she tried to draw him in. He was distracted and moody. So she simply let him be, because that was what he seemed to want.
He was almost done with dinner, and he wondered why Eames had not made her requisite thirty trips to the sink for a drink of water. He was afraid she was mad at him, and he wouldn't blame her. Maybe she had figured out what he'd done and that was why she was keeping her distance. Well, he would be finding out before long, and he was getting more nervous about it. He burned his hand three times and that just pissed him off. He tried to calm himself down, but it just wasn't working. Shit.
"I'm done," he finally announced, getting out the plates. He dished out the dinner and set the plates on the table. Getting a wine cooler for her, he got himself a glass of water. Then he sat down across from her, but he really had no appetite. He doubted it had much to do with the remnants of his hangover, either.
She watched him push his food around his plate for nearly ten minutes. Finally, she pushed her plate away and got up. "Come with me," she said.
"What?"
"Just get your ass up and come over here."
Sighing heavily, he did as she asked. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the couch beside her. "Now talk," she said. "How the hell have you been an ass? I absolutely did not pick up on that, so I have no idea where you're coming from."
He looked at his hands; he refused to look at her. "I'm not sure how to tell you this."
"It's generally best if you just say it."
He shifted his position, still focused on his hands. "I guess there's no escaping where we come from, is there?"
"Keep going."
"I...I used to think I was better than he was...but I...I'm not. Not at all."
"Better than who, Bobby?"
"My father."
She sat there for a long minute, silent. He hazarded a glance at her, but only saw confusion on her face. "I don't understand what you're talking about."
"I...did some thinking last night." Eames groaned inwardly. That was often not a good thing. He continued, "I realized...something. I, uh, I told Mike that I...fell for Emily. I w-was attracted to her, and I couldn't...shake it. That I..." This was harder than he thought it would be, even though he was uncomfortably aware that she knew about at least some of this. "Well, anyway, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it wasn't Emily I fell for. That my attraction...was a s-substitution. I used her, Alex. I fucking used her. And I feel like shit for it. But even worse, dammit, I betrayed you. And I don't know what to do about it."
She just stared at him. He still wouldn't look at her. Finally, she said, "What the hell are you talking about?" That made him look at her. Couldn't she see it? She was frowning. "How did you use her?"
"I...I thought I'd lost you...and she reminded me so damn much of you. So I substituted her for you. I never wanted her and I never loved her...it was all you. But I was too damn messed up to even see it. I...I do care about her...and I like her. But...all I wanted was you. That wasn't fair to her." He ran his hand over his hair in frustration. "That was shit my dad used to do. Mom would be too sick for anything, and so he'd find it...s-somewhere else. Then he'd come home...and she always knew. Hell, I always knew. I...I'm no better."
"Tell me how you're no better than he was."
"It's right in front of you, Eames." She grabbed his arm to keep him beside her on the couch. He fidgeted restlessly, but he stayed. "I couldn't have you, so I used her. And then...I threw it in your face. Just like he would have."
"Threw it in my face? How? By working when you could have taken off to spend time with her? By nearly freaking out because I asked you to dance with her? By hanging out with Mike when you weren't at work? How was that throwing anything in my face, Bobby? And I don't think you used her. More importantly, neither does she. Why the hell do you think she stopped you whenever you wanted to go further with her? You know, I really wanted to kick Logan's ass for not calling me that night you guys went out."
Goren shook his head in confusion. "Eames, you're killing me here. I royally screwed up...and you're mad at Logan?"
"Bobby, you didn't screw up. I suppose you could twist things around and make yourself think you used Emily, which you seem to have done admirably well, but...did you intend to use her?"
"No. Of course not."
"Were you trying to flaunt anything in front of me?"
"No. Not at all."
"So then tell me...how are you like your father?"
He was quiet, thinking. Then he looked at her. "Ok, Eames...I am really confused here. I...I did something wrong. I had a clear handle on it when I sat down here, but that seems to have slipped away from me now..."
"Because you didn't do anything wrong, you idiot."
He shook his head in denial. "I...no, I did."
"Ok, I'll give you a bone here. You did do something wrong. You misinterpreted what I said and ran off to Colorado instead of asking me about it." She smacked him in the back of the head. "Idiot. That's what you did wrong. Everything that came after was Logan's fault, and mine."
He rubbed his hands over his face and held his head. Then he looked at her. "You and Logan?"
"Yes. Me for not realizing how you would take what I said...and for wording it that way in the first place, for forgetting, just for a minute, that you can't really read my mind. And Logan, for not realizing that you weren't just blowing off steam...that you really did think I was leaving you...and then not calling me about it. We let you down, Bobby. Not the other way around. And then I didn't tell you about Emily, or even prepare you for the news. This is all sitting in my lap, Goren."
This time he got up from the couch and she didn't stop him. He paced around the living room. "I was in love with you...and I turned to someone else..."
"Because you thought I was walking away..."
"That's beside the point!"
She felt her hold on her temper snap. "Why? Because you should have known? Known what, Bobby? You think I planned all this? Or do you think for a minute that I believe you did it all intentionally? Fuck that, Goren! I know you better. You are not like your father at all. Look at you...you operate on guilt, Bobby! From what you've always said about your father, he wouldn't know guilt if it came up and bit him on the ass!" She got up and approached him, furious. She hit him square in the chest with both hands and shoved, hard. He stumbled into the wall. "You care! You son of a bitch...you care about me...about Emily...about how we feel...about hurting us...! When did your damn father care about anyone but himself?" She was as close to in his face as she could get with the thirteen-inch difference in their heights. He tried backing away, but he didn't get far. She hit him again with both hands, but when he stumbled backwards, she caught his heel with hers and he went down. She straddled him, hands planted firmly on his chest. "You are nothing like your father, you stupid moose. Nothing. You fell into these circumstances and shit happened. But it's nothing that's beyond repair, unless you want it to be. Do you understand me?"
He just stared at her again. He tried to say something, but words failed him. So he nodded mutely. She sat on his stomach and waited for him to recover. Finally, he said, "Next time I forget you can take care of yourself, remind me about this, will you?"
She sighed. "Have I made myself clear, Goren?"
"Crystal."
"Good. Now listen to what I have to say."
He watched her face, bringing his hands up to rest on her hips as she began, "I agree you aren't blameless...but you were more caught up in circumstance than anything else. And I can't blame you for that." His hands tightened on her hips. "But I made a conscious decision, Bobby. I chose not to tell you, to let her decide the time, knowing it was the wrong thing to do. I set you up..." His hands trailed upward, sliding under her shirt. She pushed them down. "Would you cut that out and listen to me?"
"I'm listening."
"I set you up to be hurt...and I'm sorry. You were right. I should have told you." She pushed his hands down again. "Would you rein it in for a minute, dammit, and let me apologize here?"
"You did. I heard you say you're sorry and I'm fine with it." His hands began to roam again. She started to get up, but he held her down. "Wait a minute. You got me into this position and plopped yourself down on top of me. Now I want you to stay."
"You idiot, let me up..."
"No. I kinda like this. Now I know what it's like to get my ass kicked by you...and I kinda like it."
She just looked at him. "You mean I actually got through to you?"
"I'd say so."
"So...in order to get you to listen to me, I have to knock you down and sit on you?"
"That works for me."
"Goren, you're an idiot."
"If you say so, Eames." He gently stroked the soft skin under her shirt. "So, I guess this means we're okay?"
"Like you said, we were never not okay. You just thought we weren't. You need to stop thinking."
"You know me...I don't stop thinking..."
She leaned down toward him, stopping when her face was just inches from his. She shifted her hips, slid one hand into his hair and whispered, "I'll bet I can make you stop thinking."
He swallowed, eyeing her face but distracted by her hips. "I, um...I'll take that bet."
She closed the distance between their lips and succeeded in shutting down his mind.
