His story is coming to an end.

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CHAPTER SIX: It's not you, It's me ...

The Black Cloud

After my shower, I head over to Eames' apartment. She lives much closer to me since the kidnapping. I helped her find a new place to live closer to work and it turned out, closer to me as well. That wasn't done on purpose. Finding a new place in New York is like winning the Lotto. Just so happens, in our line of work, we get the inside scoop. That means, some poor soul, passed away. Since Eames took my car, I decided to walk. I could think about what I was going to say and possibly calm my nerves. It's hard when you love someone and you want to be with that someone, but you just can't. I feel like our souls are meant to be together in life … like soul mates, but I may have to resign myself to the fact that our souls may have to rest in peace together at the end of our lives. We're great friends and even better partners … why screw with that? For mind blowing sex? Sounds good in theory, but could this be a flame that burns really hot really fast then fizzles out over time, leaving us impotent, alone and once again hating each other? I don't think I want to take that risk. That would be the end.

As I approach her apartment, my nervousness returns. I stand outside and look up at her window. I do love that woman … it hurts, it aches. I wish she didn't bring all this to the surface. All of this, all of these feelings that I've been hiding … from her and myself, they were happy where they were … hiding … staying hid. I turn around to leave, but know I can't. I pace … I'm good at that. I've had practice. She somehow feels my presence, she comes down and opens the door."Bobby?"

I spin around to see her smiling face. She really is beautiful when she's not riding my ass about something.

"Hi."

"Hi … Did you want to come up?"

I did and didn't. I had to give her the, 'It's not you, It's me,' speech. I nodded and up I went.

I walk in and looked around. I saw my handy work. I painted. Did some minor plumbing. Hung some shelves and pictures. Moved her couch at least fifteen times and it ended up in the first place that I put it. I even helped her pick out pillows and other accessories … I was all over her apartment. I realized at that moment … she can't escape me, not at work or at home. I'm everywhere and she is in one place … my heart. I drop my head without uttering a word.

"Oh my God, you're here to end this before we even have a chance to see where it leads."

I look up and catch her angry eyes on me. I place one hand on the back of my neck and shrug. That's when she threw a vase at me. I felt the breeze as it whizzed by my head. I wanted to talk rationally, but I think that ship already sailed. I held up my hands to stop the onslaught of projectiles, but they kept coming … a plate, a glass … coffee mug - my favorite one. A fan she keeps in the kitchen and then she took her shoe off and threw that. If that's how she wanted to play it … I could play too and my shoe was much bigger. I took my shoe off and threw it. She wasn't expecting me to retaliate, it hit her right off the top of the head. I couldn't help but laugh. The look on her face was priceless.

She placed her hand on her head and looked at me with stunned eyes and said, "I can't believe you hit me."

"I can't believe you didn't duck."

She threw my shoe back at me. I caught it and put it back on, never once taking my eyes off of her. God only knows what she would throw at me next. Possibly that couch that I moved fifteen frigin times.

I walked up to her and kissed the top of her head. She put her hands on my chest and waited for me to say something.

"You know that we can't work."

"No, I don't know that and neither do you. Why do say that? Because we're partners?"

"No, because we're friends. You're my best friend, Eames. The past several months have been hell without you and worse still after the undercover op. If this relationship doesn't work out, we could lose everything … we almost did. Was that fun for you? It wasn't for me."

She removed her hands from my chest, grabbed my belt and lead me into her bedroom.

"Lie down, lets talk."

"We have to talk lying down?"

"I'm tired."

I lie down but place my hands behind my head. I'm not going to touch her. She lies down on her stomach and rests her chin on my chest. I resist the urge to run my hand through her hair.

"Eames, really … this could only hurt our friendship, our partnership. Do you really want to risk that?"

"Yes."

"Eames?"

"I love you, Bobby. What's more important than love?"

"Friendship."

"We have both. How many people can say that?"

She has a point.

"Why didn't you become a lawyer?"

"Does that mean I'm winning the argument?"

"I can't lose you as a friend again, Eames. You know that I have the potential, as a partner, to piss you off again, what's gonna happen then? Will you bring it home with us?"

"I can't answer that."

"See, this is what I mean. Most friends turn lovers, aren't partners at Major Case."

"I like the way that sounds … lovers."

Her hands begin to caress my body. It feels good, too good. It's that control thing again. I promised myself that I would be in control, whether it be in my personal life or at work, namely Ross, but Eames too … she can be intimidating.

I dislodge my hands from behind my head and run one hand through her hair and the other down her back. She scoots up higher and kisses me. I take control of the kiss by grabbing her head and pulling her close. I turn her over so that I'm lying on top of her. I do the caressing, the touching, the pursuing. I pull away and run my hand down her face while I stare into her eyes … I'm losing my resolve.

"I have to go. I do love you, but if I don't leave, you'll end up hating me."

"Bobby? … God, I give up! Go, just go."

I made her cry … I didn't let her see my tears. That was so hard, but necessary. I have a black cloud that follows me. It's hovered over my head my entire life … I don't want Eames under it. I walked out on my best friend ... did I have a choice?

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Eames tells her side of the tale. Thanks for reading ... judy:)