Alex got to her feet two hours later and bent to retrieve her purse from under her desk. When she straightened back up, she narrowly missed banging the top of her head into the chin of the man bending over her. "Jesus!" she gasped, putting a hand over her heart and backing up a step. "Haven't you commandeered a desk for yourself yet? Or did you plan on sitting on my lap?"
Straub gave her a sheepish smile and mirrored her step back with one of his own. "Sorry. Thought you were going to keep moving."
"Mmm." Giving him a skeptical smile, she set her purse down on her chair and looked up at him. "Why were you tagging along behind me in the first place?"
"Got plans for tonight?"
She'd expected something more pressing, given how closely he was sticking to her. With a roll of her eyes, she turned back to her desk. "Depends on why you're asking."
Behind her back, Straub grinned at Kratzer, who was sitting on the corner of Goren's desk, and then bent forward, putting his face next to hers and stage-whispering, "What do you think about letting two overworked G-men take you out for a drink? You name the bar."
"I don't think . . ." She stopped there, noticing that across from her, Goren had stiffened but was avoiding looking up at her. Embarrassed about what I might say to them, Bobby? she thought, allowing herself a tiny smirk. Serves you right.
"You don't think what?" Straub prompted after a second's silence.
She blinked, stole another look at her partner, and then smiled at Straub. "I don't think you tough guys would like my favorite place. Too trendy. But I happen to know of another good place a couple blocks from here."
"Sounds good to me!" Kratzer announced, hopping off the desk and moving to stand next to her. "Lead on."
"Eames . . ."
She turned to look at questioningly Goren, who had spoken so quietly that she wasn't sure if he'd said her name or if she'd just imagined it.
"I wanted to -"
"Sorry, man," Straub said, sounding both cheerful and a trifle malicious as he glanced at Goren, then turned away and slung an arm over Eames's shoulders. "You have her practically every day; she's ours for tonight."
Unable to help herself, she laughed. "Gee, it's nice to feel wanted. Just . . ." A well-timed shrug of her shoulders displaced his arm. ". . . not that wanted. I'm ready whenever you guys are."
"Eames," Goren tried again.
She sighed and reluctantly turned to look at him. "Whatever it is, Bobby, it can wait 'til tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."
"Ok, so," Straub said a few hours later, eyeing her over the rim of his glass, "you want to tell me what the hell Goren was doing to you back in the break room?"
Kratzer, who had been mid-sip, choked on his mouthful of beer, set his glass down, and gave Straub a probing look. "What? What do you mean -" He cut himself off there and moved his eyes to Alex. "What was he doing that Eddie has to ask what he was doing?"
"He wasn't doing anything," she muttered, keeping her eyes on her own drink. "We were fighting. He forgets about personal space when he gets worked up."
" 'Worked up'? The more I hear, the less I'm liking this," Kratzer said slowly. "Eddie, tell me what happened."
"Well, Alex went to get some coffee, and -"
"Don't," she said sharply, looking up to catch Straub's eye. "This is not an issue I need you guys to help me with, ok?"
"Look, the guy's twice your size and he had you up against a wall. Either you explain to me why I don't need to be worried about that, or I'm going to keep worrying. Among other things."
She set her drink down on the table and gave him a hard look. "No, you look. I've known him for five years. You haven't even known him for five days. Bobby would not hurt me."
Kratzer, who was regarding both Eames and Straub warily, held up a hand to stop their budding argument. "Would one of you please tell me what the hell happened?"
"Exactly what I just said happened," she snapped. "We were arguing. He got in my face. The genius over here decided that would be a good time to come marching into the room and freak out."
"Hey," Straub shot back defensively, "it looked like he was about three seconds from trying to get into something that definitely wasn't your face."
He had no idea how close he'd come to the truth, she thought, swallowing hard. There was complete silence for what felt to her like forever before she could even open her mouth. "I, uh -" she managed in a strangled voice, then stopped, unable to think of what else to say.
Straub, reveling in the success of his joke, appeared to be oblivious to her discomfort, but Kratzer leaned toward her, catching her eye and opening his mouth.
Her phone rang.
"What's wrong with you lately?" Danielle asked Goren, taking her eyes off the body they were both studying long enough to give him a critical look. "The least you could have done was called me."
Goren cleared his throat and wondered why he had allowed himself to be convinced to start the examination before anyone else arrived. At the moment, he'd have given anything to have one of his partner's "bodyguards" running interference for him. Hell, even Alex, herself, would help, although he'd probably pay the price afterward. "I haven't exactly had a lot of free time this week," he muttered, keeping his eyes down so he didn't have to meet hers.
"Oh, bull. You're always working your ass off, but before this week, you never had a problem with calling or stopping by."
"Danielle," he said repressively, "can we save this discussion for some time when we're not standing in the middle of the morgue, waiting for my partner?"
"Your partner," she snorted, not bothering to disguise her distaste. "I don't see why you had to call her in, anyway. It's not like you can't remember things for yourself and then tell her in the morning."
"She's my partner." He bent lower over the body, examining the light bruising on the victim's upper thighs. "If I need to be here, she needs to be here. These bruises - do you have a time estimate?"
"Shortly before her throat was cut. They'd have been darker if her blood had pumped for more than a few minutes afterward." Moving easily, as if it were part of her examination, she circled around the table to stand next to where he was still bending over, and put a hand on his shoulder, ostensibly to balance herself as she leaned forward. "She's not the brains of your operation. And you know, for some godforsaken reason she's decided she hates me. I would just rather not deal with her if I didn't have to."
He looked up at her with mild surprise. "You haven't exactly been -"
He was interrupted by the sound of the door hissing open and Kratzer's voice saying, "Looks like we're late to the party, guys."
Straightening up, he looked over his shoulder at Straub and Kratzer, who were strolling into the room with Eames sandwiched between them. "Hi, guys. Sorry -"
"Eh," Straub said with an unconcerned wave of his hand, at the same time glancing meaningfully at the hand Danielle still had on Goren's arm. "Obviously you had an incentive to get started before you had an audience. Evening, Doc."
Danielle gave him a sour smile and looked up at Bobby. "You didn't tell me she was bringing her, uh, friends."
"I didn't know she was," he replied with complete honesty, looking to Eames for an explanation.
She just looked back at him, a smug smile tugging at her lips. "You just pulled me away from the first night I've had in a long time where I wasn't buying my own drinks, Bobby. This better be good."
"I, uh . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, wondering what she had been discussing with the FBI agents over said drinks. "The residue on her thighs . . . it was semen. He must have fumbled the condom."
"Yeah?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and turning to the medical examiner. "Does the fact that you hauled us all out here mean you got a hit on it?"
"I didn't 'haul' you anywhere, Detective," Danielle shot back. "I just called Bobby. He was the one who insisted you be here too."
Alex glanced at her partner, who was avoiding her eyes. "Interesting. So then you didn't get a hit?"
"No." Without looking to see if anyone was following her, Danielle crossed the room to where a computer and a printer sat. "The profile came out really clean," she said, gesturing to the sequence of DNA markers showing on the screen, "but whoever the guy is, he's not in CODIS, as a scene sample or as an offender."
"Shit," Straub muttered.
"Yeah, I'll second that," Alex said, turning to look at him with a resigned smile.
"Danielle," Goren said, "what can you tell us?"
"White male," she said with a shrug. "Type B-negative. Secretor."
"B-negative's not that common," Eames said thoughtfully. "Not that that does us any good without a donor sample to compare it to."
"Indeed," Danielle said, giving her a cool look. "But then, I'm sure you'll think of a way to get a sample. Bobby tells me you used to work in Vice . . ."
"Collecting 'samples' wasn't part of my job description," Alex snapped. "And you shouldn't rely on everything Bobby tells you. He's been known to lie."
"Alex . . ." he attempted.
"Be quiet," she admonished, hardly sparing him a look. "Dr. Matthews, did you find anything useful on the body, or are we done here?"
Danielle smiled. "You can go any time you want, Detective. Like I said, I didn't think you needed to be here."
There was a moment of silence as Eames assimilated the woman's newest insult, and then she crossed her arms and smiled tightly. "What, exactly, is your problem with me, Doctor?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes," Eames said evenly, "you do. So either tell me now, or shut the hell up about it."
Practically snarling in response to that, Danielle grabbed Alex by the arm and dragged her away from the men. "You want to know what my problem is, Detective?" she hissed. "Fine. You are my problem. You get your kicks by getting in my way, especially when it comes to Bobby. I warned you once before to stay away from him, and you're still following along on his coattails."
She'd figured out all that for herself. "What's your point?"
"My point?" Danielle echoed angrily. "My point is, go get yourself a boyfriend and stay the hell out of my relationship with mine." She paused, then smiled toothily. "Or are you more in the market for a girlfriend? That could explain a lot."
Alex could feel her heart pounding in anger, but she wrestled the emotion into submission, telling herself that she could vent when she got home. "You can't have it both ways," she told Danielle, managing to assume a look of complete indifference. "Either I'm a lesbian who's skinny and acts like a man, or I'm a man-eater trying to steal your boyfriend. Pick one and stick with it, if you refuse to just leave me alone."
"I'll call you whatever I want. What are you going to do, go crying to Bobby?"
"She doesn't need to come crying to me," Goren spoke up from behind her, startling both women. "I can see it for myself. Leave her alone, Danielle."
"I . . ." Danielle began, pinning a smile on her face and turning to look at him. "I'm not the one who's causing the problem, Bobby."
"Yes, you are." He put a tentative arm around his partner's shoulders, watching her face to make sure she wouldn't protest, then looked back at Danielle. "Eames gets along with everyone. She even forces herself to get along with people she detests, and that includes you. It's you who keeps trying to start a war, and I want it to stop."
"You're picking her over me?" Danielle fumed, glaring daggers at Alex.
"Yeah, I guess I am. I can't date someone who sees my partner as competition. It wouldn't work, Danielle."
She stared at him for a second, then let out a harsh laugh. "I guess this explains why you haven't called me. Fine. If you want to screw your partner, who am I to interfere? Hope you have fun. Now, get out of my morgue."
"Nobody's 'screwing' anybody, Danielle."
"Get out of my morgue!"
Goren jumped at an unexpected tap on his shoulder, and turned to find Kratzer smirking at him. "You heard the woman. I suggest we beat it before she comes after you with a scalpel."
