Title: A Safe Set

Summary: One way Bobby and Alex could resolve their fight in War at Home.

Disclaimer: I do not own LO:CI or it's characters

The interrogation room was their own private theater. Both of them had performed here, though, by design, Bobby usually dominated the stage. It was an odd place for a reconciliation, but this was where they were and it couldn't wait any longer.

The latest audience member turned star (otherwise known as their suspect) had been lead out. The case was solved and, as with any production, there was a stillness after the storm.

It was in that odd, quiet moment that Bobby took his first step into the neutral zone. He didn't want to, he was still far from at peace himself, but he understood what was happening between them, knew what it was costing her and he couldn't handle another night with it on his conscience, "Eames."

Alex looked back at him and the mental checklist of the paperwork she would need to take care of disappeared. The near psychic connection with her partner she'd been working so hard to ignore was spitting to life. She knew he was going to broach the subject; She could hear it in the tremor in his voice and see it in the carefully neutral placement of his hands on the table.

Bobby could only hold the look for a moment. There were things that still needed to remain hidden. He needed to take this slowly - to be sure that only what needed to be said was said.

This was the moment that would define everything... or rather, redefine everything again. He'd unintentionally smashed a trust, more than she realized. If she knew how close he was to losing all those carefully controlled boundaries that they lived their shared life by - their partnership by... she'd... he wasn't sure what she'd do anymore.

Her retreat within herself had served a purpose for him. It was easier to keep himself in check when she hated him. But passively watching as she pulled farther and farther away wasn't working either.

He waited for her permission to continue - some sign that she was willing to hear him out.

Alex felt the weight of the pause, wondered what he was waiting for and what was coming. There was that voice in her head that said to walk away - to throw his words back at him. Back Off. It wasn't exactly a voice to be trifled with. Alex looked at the door with no small amount of longing.

She wasn't just nervous about the confrontation - she was scared. She'd felt herself go numb inside before. She remembered how friends had tried to keep her present, keep her in their lives... but they hadn't understood. They had belonged to the part of her life that had died - dead in the snow with her spouse that awful night. And she hadn't been interested in a resurrection... she had needed what was buried to stay buried.

Alex didn't know if she'd successfully smothered the part of her that had belonged to Bobby. If he appealed to her now and she couldn't give it back to him... there would be no more pretending. There would be a break. There would be an end. And the thought of it chilled her to the bone.

Bobby ignored the tightness in his chest as the silence stretched, he gestured toward the chair opposite him, "Please, Eames... just... sit."

She looked at the chair, considered insisting he take the position of weakness but then rebelliously decided she didn't need the favor.

Bobby almost found it sweet - almost - the way she sat in the chair like a child taking their punishment. Defiance radiated from her as she sat across from him like so many other hostile and hurt witnesses he'd played to in this room.

Never had she been so far away from him. And never had it been so dangerous to reach out to her, "My behavior was... unacceptable. I'm sorry." He glanced up at her to check her non-verbal response to that and saw she was trying not to be read. Bobby looked around the room, searching for the right trigger, "You probably feel like I overreacted and- ... you're right. I - I let my personal ... frustrations affect my judgment."

Alex sat still, wondering if that was really what he was going to present her with - an apology appropriate only if he'd come back that night, only if he'd come back to her then and there. Alex sniffed. All that stress about staying in this room or leaving and this is what he was giving her. Anger coursed through her - maybe she wasn't dead to him just yet... She sat forward in her chair and jammed her finger into the table, "You want to do this Bobby? Fine. Let's do this. You want to know how I feel? Ask me."

Her tone pricked at his own frustration, "All right," he inhaled sharply, raised a hand in invitation, "How do you feel?"

Alex pursed her lips, the all too raw answers to that question thundering in her head. Did he think she was overreacting? Did he think this was some trivial spat gone on too long? She shook her head, "Forget it. This is stupid."

Bobby slammed a hand down on the table - once, twice, then softly a third time as he struggled against his emotion, "I'm sorry. I told you I was sorry and I am sorry. I let my temper get in the way of-"

"No," Alex pushed away from the table and stood up, "Not good enough. It's more than that. It was personal." Bobby started to shake his head and Alex pointed at him, "You deny it now and I'm through here. I will walk."

Bobby rubbed his hand against his forehead, "What do you want me to say Eames? Huh? I told you I was sorry..."

"And I told you that's not enough. You tell me why. You tell me why you treated me like I was nothing."

"I have been trying to tell you-"

"No, don't push this off as some sort of temper tantrum. I am sorry about your mom's condition, Bobby, you know I am. But you're hiding behind it and it's pissing me off!"

Bobby stood up and turned away from her. Everything was simmering too close to the surface, she was pushing him on purpose - but to drive him away or get through, he wasn't sure yet. Both most likely. But he didn't want to break again, he didn't want to be cornered and baited into giving her a reason to go, "What's your strategy here Eames - I can't see it. I can't see what you want."

"That makes two of us, Bobby." Alex stared at the back of his head, her love of him warring with her pain. Before she knew it there were tears in her eyes... of all the maddening effects of Post Traumatic Stress - her sudden aptitude for crying had to be the worst.

Bobby turned slightly toward her, the tremor in her voice only throwing fuel on his frustration because he couldn't go to her, she wouldn't have let him comfort her, "So what," Bobby waved a hand, "I've caused irreparable damage by - what? Showing emotion? I know that's against some cardinal rule in your house-"

Alex cursed at him, ready to leave, ready now to throw it, whatever it was, the hell away.

"Fine," He shook his head again, "You want me to tell you what you already know?" Bobby's red - rimmed eyes pinned her to her place, "That I keep pulling back that bloody canvas in my sleep - except in my dreams it's not Amanda's body I find? You want to know that it's just easier if I just pretend - easier if I pretend you don't mean - that you aren't...?"

And suddenly the truth was so near to them in the air - it was right there... Both of them turned away from it.

Alex breathed deeply through her nose, trying to get back her own control, "What does that-"

"Or do you want me to lie and say I'm getting better and so are you?" His voice was almost level, in that studied careful way he tried to keep a lid on his emotions.

Alex's whole body started shaking. She braced her hands on the back of her chair, "I am getting better. If you want to see the Goddamned shrink, then be my guest."

"Yeah?" Bobby felt his next words rise and even though his anger nearly blinded him he nearly couldn't force them out, "Where did you sleep last night, Alex?"

He saw his words hit her; knew he hadn't been fair, knew he was already so close to losing her. His temper vanished and panic washed through him. Without another thought, Bobby took Alex's arm and pushed her gently to the corner of the room, away from the view of the mirror, "I have to make this better. You have to let me make this better. I can't - do this anymore."

Alex stared into his eyes, trying to keep her guard up - struggling to keep everything together. Then, abruptly, she sank against the wall - her steam had run out, her nerves were shot. She scrutinized his tie, "It wasn't the case or the captain or even the job. You deserted me, Bobby."

She saw him too easily, she always had, "I know."

"So tell me why."

Internally, Bobby wrestled with his pain, his attraction - everything that made this situation so much more than what it seemed. He couldn't lie to her and he couldn't refuse to answer. To tell her the truth would be to end them both. He searched her eyes for some hope, some... cue as to what he could possibly admit to without leading them down that road and without closing off the other.

What he saw surprised him. Strength. Still there, still intense and solid and totally intact... the wounds hadn't crushed it - hadn't crushed her. Maybe the fear had changed her, but maybe it was the fear that had made her gaze brighter than it had ever been before. She was stronger now and he hadn't seen it. So what was he protecting her from?

Bobby leaned in and Alex braced herself as he breathed her in from her collarbone to her hair. Then, abruptly, he let go of her arm and took a step back as he straightened to his full height. "You know why, Eames, don't you?"

Alex couldn't seem to focus her vision or her mind. Yes, she knew why... She just hadn't realized she'd known. She reached out to touch his shirt, then took her hand away as if it had been an unconscious movement. The air was so thick between them it was difficult to breathe, "Yes."

She couldn't stop staring at him, he was bracing himself to take a hit - anticipating the blow. Well screw that. So what if they both knew now? Did he think she was just going to bail because it was going to be hard? Because it might get sticky?

"Don't freeze me out again," Alex straightened and pushed away from the wall. "We're a team; a dysfunctional, pain in the ass team. Whatever comes next... we'll deal with it."

Bobby nodded half heartedly, watched her indirectly, willing her not to ignore what they'd just admitted, "Alex, I'm not...all right."

"I know," she answered, then paused just a moment before adding, "I've been sleeping in my closet."

"I know," he cocked his head and looked at her with the same expression he'd used when she'd insisted on coming back to work early.

Alex shrugged, "It's a nice closet."

"Eames..."

Alex shook her head and put her hand on his arm, held on firmly, "We're both going to be all right, Bobby. Because," Alex let go of his arm and fumbled for his hand, "Because I said so."

Bobby inclined his head in acceptance and squeezed her hand, trying to take the chill away. They stood there together, united again, maybe for the first time. She took away her hands, "I'm not sweeping anything under the rug, Bobby. We'll get there."

"Because you said so?" Bobby imitated her with a smirk.

Alex nodded with conviction, "Bet on it." She looked back toward the mirror, met his eyes again and let the silent connection they'd built together say what she wanted him to know before she walked out of the room.

Bobby ran both his hands through his hair. They'd redefined everything all right. Bobby looked around the room, their room; united here they could stand against anything or anyone. Maybe it hadn't been such an odd setting after all. Maybe it was the perfect place to start over... together this time... because she said so.

The corners of Bobby's mouth turned up, what was he getting himself into? He grabbed his folder and followed after his partner.