A/N: As per boohoo650's request, I'm making tonight a threefer. Congrats on finishing your finals, your reward is an extra-long chapter!


"So," Straub said casually when he climbed into the car after getting the nod from Kratzer, who was still out on the grass, "the medical examiner, huh?"

Goren, who had been lost in thought, blinked and turned in his seat to look at him. "What?"

"The M.E.," he said again, leaning forward in the gap between the front seats. "Alex said she's your girlfriend?"

Sighing, Goren shrugged. "Alex is jumping the gun."

"So she's not your girlfriend?"

"I don't know what she is," he said tightly. "We've gone on dates."

"Have you slept with her?"

"Excuse me?"

"I asked if you've slept with her," Straub said matter-of-factly. "Because if you have, then she's probably decided she is your girlfriend."

"Does it matter?" Goren asked, turning back to the front of the car in an attempt to end the conversation.

"Maybe." He leaned farther forward, refusing to let Goren ignore him. "It could at least partially explain why she jumped down Alex's throat the second she saw her."

As intended, that got Goren's attention. He whipped his head around, giving Straub a hard look. "Wait, what? What do you mean she jumped down her throat?"

Straub shrugged. "I think it's pretty self-explanatory. As soon as she spotted Alex, she made tracks over to her. I was standing right there, and let me tell you - the woman didn't even bother to say hello before she started tossing out insults right and left. At least . . ." He paused. "At least, I think they were insults. Some of them didn't mean anything to me, but Alex seemed pretty pissed."

"I -"

"Sorry to be the one to have to tell you, man," Straub interrupted, "but your girlfriend's a bitch. What's she got against Alex, anyway?"

"I, uh . . ."

"Judging by the way Ted hightailed it over to Alex a few minutes ago, it looks like she took one last parting shot, too."

"Did you guys do any work at this scene?" Goren snapped. "Or were you busy watching Alex?"

Looking mildly surprised by the tone of Goren's voice, Straub shrugged. "Someone's got to, apparently, and you weren't signing on for the job."

Before Goren could think of a response to that, two of the cars doors opened and Kratzer and Eames slid into their seats. Eames glanced over her shoulder and offered Straub a halfhearted smile, then started the car and pulled away from the scene without another word.


"Alex?" Kratzer asked when he cornered her in the squad room a little while later. "Are you ok?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she snapped. "I'm fine, ok? Nothing you - or Eddie, or Goren - need to worry about."

He sighed and advanced another step. "It's just . . . you know, we saw how Goren's girlfriend messed with you at the scene. You looked upset."

"I am not upset!" She didn't realize how loud the words were until they came out of her mouth and heads all over the room began to turn toward her. "I'm not upset," she repeated more quietly to Kratzer. "Ok?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Ok, ok. So, uh . . ." He glanced down at his watch. "Aren't you supposed to be on a date right now?"

Her eyes widened and she stared at her own watch, then sighed. "Well, I was supposed to be, yeah. But that doesn't seem to be working out. I feel like shit tonight anyway."

"Do you want -"

"No!" she interrupted, holding up a hand to stop his invitation. "You guys are tired, and you don't need me hanging around bugging you."

Kratzer glanced toward Eames's desk, where Straub was currently ensconced, and rolled his eyes at the other man, indicating failure. "Ok," he said, looking back at Eames. "Whatever you want. You have our numbers if you decide you need some company."

"Yeah, sure." Inching past him as if she expected him to make a grab for her, she headed for her desk to retrieve her purse.

Straub looked up from the file he was reading as soon as he saw her in his peripheral vision. "You're heading home, Alex?"

Goren, whose eyes were on the computer monitor in front of him, stilled but didn't look up.

"Basically," she hedged, adjusting her purse strap. "I'll see you guys in the morning."

Both FBI agents moved their eyes to Goren, wondering what his reaction would be. By the time they realized that his lack of reaction was his reaction, Eames was gone.


Her phone was ringing again, Eames realized groggily, opening her eyes and sitting up on her couch. She wondered who it was this time. Chris Hammond had already called twice and left two concerned-sounding messages on her answering machine; Eddie Straub had called once and left a message playfully urging her to take him out on the town; and her partner had called three times, leaving increasingly worried messages.

And it had only been three hours since she got home.

It was amazing, she thought as she leaned over to check the caller ID on her phone, how many people suddenly wanted to talk to you as soon as you decided to stop answering the phone for the night.

Goren, the caller ID informed her.

With a quiet groan, she left the phone to ring and flopped back down on the couch. Her dog, seeming as concerned as everyone else about her, crawled up her legs to curl up on her stomach, and she lifted one hand to stroke his head as she stared at the ceiling.

She wasn't sure why she was so upset over the bitchy behavior of one less-than-likeable woman. All she could come up with was that she simply wasn't used to being attacked with words. With fists or a gun, sure. She'd encountered those multiple times on the job. On the other hand, she couldn't remember the last time someone had taken the time to stand in front of her and verbally shred her, completely without remorse.

And it had been two men she'd known for a grand total of three days who had noticed the attack and tried to protect her. Her partner, on the other hand, appeared to have been happily oblivious to how his girlfriend was amusing herself.

That was what got to her the most. She disliked Danielle Matthews for her cruel words . . . but she was pretty closed to hating Bobby Goren for turning his back on her and giving Danielle tacit permission to do her worst.

It didn't matter whether he had romantic interest in Eames or not, really. The simple fact was that good partners, no matter how much they might fight behind closed doors, defended each other from the world in public . . . and Goren had let that responsibility slip right past him.

Maybe he was too busy staring at his new girlfriend's chest, she thought, then silently admonished herself for her cattiness.

She sighed deeply, dislodging the dog, who slipped sideways off her stomach and sat up to give her a dirty look before resuming his position. The only thing all this thinking was accomplishing was making her angrier, and she was sick of being angry. She eyed the clock, noticing that it was almost midnight, then closed her eyes, stretched, and allowed herself to drift back into the sleep the ringing phone had woken her from.


An hour later, Goren quietly let himself into her apartment and stared into the darkness, debating whether or not to turn on a light. The decision was quickly preempted by the sound of panting, followed by a tugging sensation he'd come to recognize as the dog chewing on his pants. Pulling his leg away, he squatted down and peered into the near-darkness until he spotted the dog. "Come on, you," he whispered, picking it up and getting a long swipe of its tongue up his cheek in retaliation. "Where is she?"

The dog wiggled, licked him again, and yipped at a surprisingly polite volume. Maybe the creature wasn't as dumb as he thought it was, Goren thought as he made his way into her living room, hoping that she hadn't moved any furniture or left anything in the middle of the floor.

He stood in the doorway of the living room for a minute, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then moved forward again until he spotted an oversized lump on the couch that he tentatively identified as his partner. Adjusting the dog's weight in his arms, he picked his way over to the couch, then set the dog down on what he presumed were her legs under the blanket that covered her, and stepped back to sit in an easy chair, not wanting to scare her when she opened her eyes.

The dog, intuitively playing his part, made his way up her body and licked her ear, making her sit bolt upright with a startled yelp.

"It's past your bedtime," she informed the dog sleepily after realizing that it was only her pet and not the boogeyman. "Stop with the licking or I'm putting you in the bedroom."

"Why don't you just put yourself in the bedroom?" Goren asked quietly.

Eames let out a strangled scream, but quickly identified the voice and took a calming breath. "Bobby?"

"Yeah." He stood up and crossed to stand in front of the couch. "Sorry, I was trying not to scare you."

"Jesus Christ, Bobby!" Taking another deliberate breath, she reached behind her head to turn on a lamp, then pulled the blanket back around herself and stared at him. "Did it occur to you that sneaking into apartments tends to scare people? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I, uh, need to talk to you."

"At one o'clock in the morning?" she said incredulously. "I don't think so. Go home. You can talk to me in the morning."

"Not if you're still not speaking to me," he pointed out.

"Well, sneaking into my apartment isn't likely to endear you to me!" She sighed. "Just say whatever it is and then go home."

"Uh . . ." Suddenly nervous, he looked down at his hands, picking at a hangnail as he tried to think of a good opening line. "Were you going to tell me?" he finally asked.

"Tell you what?"

"About Danielle."

"Ok, wait a second." She huddled deeper into the blanket until only her head was visible above it. "Why would I have anything to tell you about your girlfriend?"

He shrugged and returned his eyes to the hangnail. "You're the one she's been taking potshots at. Were you planning on telling me about it, or were you just going to stop talking to me and hope I read your mind?"

"Go away, Bobby." Turning over to face the back of the couch, she pulled the blanket over her head and closed her eyes.

"Answer my question."

"No," she mumbled into the couch.

Sighing, he decided to try another tactic: "Why did I have to hear about this from an FBI agent who's known you for a grand total of three days?"

She turned her head to give him a disdainful look. "Funny, I was wondering the same thing."

"What?"

"You have eyes, Bobby," she said, turning away again. "You were right there half the time. So why don't you explain to me why you had to be 'told' at all, instead of figuring it out for yourself?"

"I'm sorry, ok? I wasn't paying attention."

"No fucking kidding," she snapped. "It was pretty obvious that you were . . . preoccupied." She paused, and then turned over to look at him again. "Speaking of which, what, exactly are you doing in my apartment instead of yours or hers at one in the morning?"

"I told you, I needed to talk to you."

Up went the blanket again. "Ok, you talked," she said into it, the words coming out slightly muffled by the fabric. "Go home. Better yet, go bug your girlfriend instead of me."

"She's not my -"

She pulled the blanket down far enough to say, "Oh, give it up, Bobby. I don't know what you think you're gaining by pretending it's not obvious to the whole world what's going between you and her."

"She's not my girlfriend," he persisted quietly. "She wasn't really even before today, and she's certainly not after today."

"Why, because she doesn't like me?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yes," he said simply, looking at his hands. "Among other reasons."

She stared at him for a second, then shook her head with an incredulous laugh. "This is a crock, Bobby. Give it up. You know as well as I do that half your girlfriends have hated me, and you didn't dump them for it. What's different about this one?"

"She attacked you," he said with a shrug. "Out loud. In public. And she did her best to hide it from me."

Eames just raised an eyebrow and kept looking at him.

"Then she started bad-mouthing you to me," he went on after a second of silence. "Or rather, she started insinuating that there's something going on between me and you and she wanted it stopped."

Alex, tempted to throw something at him, settled for covering her face with the blanket again. "Why didn't you just point out that she had it ass-backwards and we can hardly stand each other anymore?"

"Alex!"

"What?" she snapped, jumping angrily to her feet and quickly wrapping the blanket around herself like a cape. "Don't you dare tell me I'm wrong."

He blinked and rubbed his hands together, then sighed and looked up at her. "I can only speak for myself, but I, uh . . . I can stand you. I mean, I like you."

"Oh, you're too kind," she mocked, giving him a sweeping bow. "Are you going to tell me what really possessed you to come here tonight, when a few hours ago you were more than happy with the status quo, or are you going to keep lying to me?"

"Would you please sit down?" he said, standing up and moving toward her. "You're making me nervous."

"Yeah, well, that makes two of us. You're not the one who's carrying on a conversation barely dressed."

"What?" he blurted, taking an automatic step back in response to her tone, which resembled the one she had used the night before, just before she hit him.

"Why do you think I'm wrapped in a goddamn blanket, Bobby? It's one o'clock in the morning. I was asleep for the night." With a snort of derision, she turned away. "You're lucky I'm wearing anything."

"I, uh . . ."

"Go home. Don't make me tell you again."

Giving her a stubborn look, he shook his head. "Not until you listen to me. And it doesn't matter what you're wearing. I'm not going to jump you."

To his consternation, that just earned him an unpleasantly high-pitched laugh. "That," she said, turning to show him a humorless smile, "is not on my list of worries, trust me."

"Well," he said confusedly, "I just thought . . . you know, since the other night I, uh, kissed you . . . I thought . . ." Too tangled up in his thoughts to make his words any more coherent, he finished the sentence by just shrugging.

"I don't know what that was," she said with a sigh, partially burying her face in the blanket, "but I don't think I'm in any danger of you repeating it."

"I . . . why not?"

"Ask your girlfriend," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"She's not my damn girlfriend, Alex! Is this . . . what did she say to you about this?"

"About whether or not you're interested in kissing me again?" She laughed. "She didn't say anything to me about kissing."

"Alex, come on," he said quietly, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Obviously she said something that upset you, and -"

"I'm not upset!" she yelled, throwing her arms out wide to emphasize the words. "I -" She stopped short there, realizing that she was no longer covering herself and, correspondingly, he was no longer looking at her face. "Stop it," she snapped, closing her arms again and pulling the blanket tightly around her.

He blinked and moved his eyes to hers, taking a step toward her. "You, uh . . . last night . . . you kissed me before you hit me."

"So?" she said defensively, watching his movement with trepidation.

"So . . . why? I understand the punch, but why the kiss?"

She shrugged uncomfortably and looked away. "I told you then, there were two things I wanted to do to you. So I did them both."

"Oh." Moving too quickly for her to protest, he took her chin in his hand and studied her face for a moment, looking for any hint of displeasure with his action and finding none. "Would you hit me again if I did what I want to right now?"

Alex swallowed nervously. "Uh . . . depends on what it is."

He lifted the hand he wasn't using, brushing its fingers over her collarbone and then trailing them across her shoulder to cup the back of her neck. "Ok so far?"

Eyes locked on his, she mouthed a soundless "yes" and waited to see what he would do next.

Using his hand on her neck, he urged her forward and lowered his head toward hers.

"Bobby," she breathed, looking down at where her hands were gripping the blanket, keeping it wrapped around her

"What?"

"My hands . . ."

His response was to pull her closer, until she was pressed against him, the friction of their bodies keeping the blanket up. "Better?"

She cautiously released her hold on it, waiting to make sure it wouldn't fall, then raised her eyes and nodded.

"Good," he murmured, and kissed her before she could think of any more excuses.