A/N: Super-short chap, but I needed a transition before I move on to the next day, so...here it is


Caught off guard by the suddenness of his movement, she responded to his kiss before she could stop herself, but within minutes, reality began to creep back and she tensed. "No, Bobby," she mumbled into his mouth, using one hand to grab hold of her blanket and wedging the other against his chest and pushing him back as she shook her head. "I'm not doing this."

He wasn't prepared for the push, and as he stumbled backward, he stared at her in confusion, wondering what he had done in the past few seconds to change her mind. "What? Why?"

"I'm just not." She tightened the blanket defensively and took a step away from him. "Even if . . . even if I were in the mood for this tonight, which I'm not, I wouldn't be able to bring myself to do it."

"Do what? Kiss me?"

"Do anything with you," she said, turning away from him. "Not with the image of you and her in my head. My stomach isn't strong enough for that."

"Alex, I told you -"

"I know what you told me. And maybe you're even telling the truth. That doesn't change the fact that you slept with her and now suddenly the next day you're here trying to kiss me and that's just a little . . . unpleasant."

Sighing, he followed her as she tried to walk away. "I can't change the past, Alex."

"Yeah?" she shot back without turning, although she could sense him only inches behind her. "Then how about autoclaving yourself?"

"What?" he asked blankly, unable to connect the piece of scientific equipment to their conversation.

"Bobby," she said, taking a large step away and only then turning toward him, "for all I know you haven't even showered since you slept with her. Do you have any idea how . . . ugh!" Unable to think of words to describe her feelings, she settled for a shudder and a grimace.

He blinked, trying to figure out exactly what she was trying to communicate. "You want me to take a shower?"

"No!" Rolling her eyes, she kept one hand on the blanket and rested the other on his chest, holding him back as he tried to move toward her. "I mean, that would be a good start, but . . . no." She sighed. "Let me put it this way: if I had just slept with Chris Hammond, and I came over your apartment and kissed you, how would you react to the concept of putting your, uh, body parts where his had just been?"

He tried to picture that, then immediately wished he hadn't.

"You 're turning an interesting shade of red, Bobby," she pointed out ingenuously, giving him a knowing smile.

"I, uh . . ." He cleared his throat. "I see your point."

"I thought you might." Slightly more relaxed now that she'd made him understand, she walked over to the couch and sat down.

He followed her again, sitting on the arm of the couch and looking down at her. "So . . . what am I supposed to do to make you . . . un-disgusted?"

She stared at him incredulously. "Do you feel even the slightest bit guilty about what you did? Or does it only concern you as far as it gets in the way of dealing with me?"

"Alex . . ."

"Answer me!"

Groaning his displeasure at being made to linger on the issue, he stood up and ran a hand through his hair uneasily. "I'm, uh, disgusted," he said reluctantly, turning his back on her and starting to pace the room, "by my own lack of . . . taste. Danielle was a convenient way to keep myself away from you, and that's all I was interested in finding."

"So you slept with a bitch-on-wheels because it made you feel better about how much of a bitch you were being to me?" she summarized coolly. "You're a piece of work, Bobby." Forcing out a sarcastic laugh, she shook her head and pointed to the door. "Go home."

"Look, I just -"

"I said, 'go home.' Try again when you've found a little remorse and you're not fresh from some other woman's bed."

Bewildered by the drastic for the worse the events of his night had taken, he finally just nodded weakly and headed for the door. "Ok, if that's what you want. Good night, Alex."

"Night.

Bobby closed the door of her apartment and headed for the stairs, trying to pin down what had seemed odd about her goodbye.

It wasn't until he reached his car outside the building that he realized what it was: she had sounded like she was laughing.