Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Back into Bobby's head again, now.

Bobby's POV

I don't believe there can be anything more wonderful than the sensation of waking with Alex Eames in my arms. She looks so peaceful at this moment and after the emotional upheaval she went through last night I am profoundly grateful for that peace.

Both times I've shared a bed with this woman I've woken to find myself almost completely entangle with her. It's strange really, most of my past lovers have moved away from me as we've slept, complaining that I throw off enough heat to be used as a furnace. I've always dislike that particular aspect of my sexual relationships, I suppose on some level I crave the close physical contact I was denied as a child and I've often found myself rejected once my lover's physical needs have been sated. My body heat doesn't seem to bother Eames though, when I shift a little her slight form presses back more firmly into me, seemingly seeking my warmth.

I decide I can manage to stay in this position a little longer, especially if it means I get to watch her whilst she sleeps. I shift my head so that I can see her face. The frown she so often seems to wear during our working hours is gone now and, as my body settles back against hers, her lips curve into a soft smile and an almost inaudible sigh of what sounds a lot like contentment escapes her. Who would have believed that Alex Eames, straight-arrow-extraordinaire, would ever be content to be held by me, the departmental nutcase? More importantly who would ever have thought for even a second that this beautiful, intelligent woman, would ever allow someone as messed up as me; with my fragmented family, my sick mother, my authority issues and lack of ability to maintain a single solid intimate relationship with the opposite sex; to get anywhere near her, much less confide what must have been one of the greatest secrets of her life to me.

To be able to count myself her friend and partner should be enough for me. I know it should. Yet I still want her to acknowledge me as her lover. I know we can't be 'open' about it. That because of the regulations we'd have to keep it quiet and 'under the radar' so to speak, but we could make this work. She trusts me, she must to have told me what she did last night. I know it wasn't easy for her and I will never reveal to anyone what has been said between us. Surely, if she can trust me with this, trust me with her life every day when we're doing our jobs, surely, she can trust me to be discrete about the extent of our personal relationship.

I continue to watch her sleeping, noting the change in her breathing, the slight wriggle of her body, as she begins to wake up. I feel her body start to tense. I wonder if it's because she's realised she's with me again or because she's recalled last night's conversation. I feel her shudder at the same moment I hear the wet swallow coming from her throat and I realise she's remembered last night and what she told me. My arms tighten reflexively, as if I can somehow protect her from the pain of her memories.

"Bobby?" She sounds almost ready to cry again and I try my best to put some reassurance into my tone as I reply.

"I'm right here."

"How did we end up in here?" She sounds slightly confused now, I don't suppose I should be surprised, really.

"You kinda dozed off, so I carried you through here. I didn't want to leave you alone, so I decided to sleep in here with you. I hope you don't mind?" Do I really sound that calm? I certainly don't feel it.

"I don't mind. I kinda like waking up with you." Her voice is still sleepy, even through the repressed tears I know she's working hard to hold back.

"I kinda like waking up with you as well." I manage to keep the burst of excitement I feel at her response out of my voice and lean over to I kiss her cheek. "Now that you're awake how about I put on a pot of coffee, while you go grab a shower? You've still got some stuff here."

"Would you …" Her voice is calmer now, more like her usual self, and for a moment I'm afraid she's going to ask me to let go of her. "Would you mind if we just stayed like this a little longer? I mean, if you don't have any plans for the day, and as we don't have to go into work?"

"The only plan I have for today is to spend it with you. If that's okay?" I know I sound hesitant but I'm not sure of the reception this suggestion will get.

"I like that idea." She presses her back more closely against my body, her hands continuing to grip my arm as she snuggles down comfortably again.

I relax against her, simply enjoying the fact that she's content, for the time being at least, to let me hold her like this. After a few minutes I realise that the hand that rests against her stomach is stroking circles against the fabric of her blouse. I hear the same contented sigh that escaped her earlier and allow my fingers to continue their movements.

It must be a good ten minutes before either of us speaks again.

"Alex?" I don't want to break this wonderful spell but nature will have her way.

"Hmmm?" She sounds as if she could happily fall asleep again.

"I really need to use the bathroom. I'm gonna need my arm back." I can't resist the urge to brush my lips against her cheek.

Her fingers unwrap themselves from around my arm and her head moves to rest on my pillow, as I disentangle myself from around her and climb out of bed. As I walk across the room I hear her moving in the bed behind me and I feel her eyes on my back. I guess I'm just not in the kind of mood to resist impulses this morning. I half turn and smile at her, simply happy at the sight of her laying in my bed. My heart does a flip as she smiles back.

Once I'm safely in the bathroom with the door closed I take a moment to lean against the wall and gather myself. I know there's still a great deal to talk through. I also know it's probably not going to be easy for either of us. We don't usually do the big emotional stuff, the main case in point being the events of two months ago. I simply let her tell me what she felt she needed from me and then did as she asked. Not even any real attempt at persuading her to change her mind even though I was desperate to do so.

I relieve the tension in my bladder, then figure I might as well brush my teeth whilst I'm in here. I'm buying myself a little time without the distraction of having Alex physically in front of me. My mind is still going over the events she recounted to me last night before she fell asleep in my arms, seemingly exhausted by the emotional onslaught. I almost jump out of my skin when she knocks at the bathroom door.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and grab that shower you suggested. I'll put the coffee on while I'm going. Okay?" How does she manage to sound so normal, as if this is just another one of her overnight stays after we've had too much to drink for her to drive home.

"Okay." I manage to mutter around a mouthful of toothpaste.

I decide I may as well grab a shower while she's upstairs, hoping the warm water will relieve some of the tension in my body. Meanwhile my mind continues to whirl, trying to process the events of this morning, last night, two months ago and, most importantly right now, over ten years ago.

I've always enjoyed cooking, luckily. I learned out of necessity when I was growing up. My mom wasn't always fit to cook meals and the danger of her cutting or burning herself was always present if she became suddenly distracted by 'them'. From Alex's earliest visits to my home I found myself taking a particular pleasure in cooking for her. This morning, however, I'm having difficulty with even the simple meal that I'm preparing. I can feel her eyes on me as I flip pancakes and chop fruit. It's all I can do to keep my concentration on the task at hand rather than simply standing here and staring at her. I somehow manage to get the food onto the plates without burning anything or slicing my fingers instead of the melon.

I take our plates to the table and sit down beside Alex, not wanting any more space between us than there has to be. The gentle brush of her knee against the side of my leg is almost enough to make me regret my decision not to sit in my usual seat opposite her. Even the vaguest physical contact with her seems to be sending my body off on its own little jaunt down memory lane to our first night together and how it felt to be with her in what most people would consider to be the most intimate way possible. For the first time in my adult life I feel as if I'm with someone who truly understands me. I don't want to lose her, not as my partner, not as my friend, not as my lover.

We sit quietly, eating, drinking juice and coffee. I'm enjoying just being here with her like this again. I hope she's feeling the same. There's a slight shift in the atmosphere around us and I see her straighten her shoulders, almost imperceptibly.

"Bobby, about last night …" I wonder if she feels as calm as she sounds.

"You want to know what I think about what you told me." I certainly don't feel anywhere near as calm as I sound.

She nods and sighs, allowing her eyes to meet mine. I can see the pain returning, along with her guilt. I wish there were some easy way to erase those emotions from her mind and leave behind better memories than the ones that I know currently occupy her thoughts.

I straighten in my chair, setting my fork down and turn to give her my full attention.

"I think it took a great deal of courage to go through what you did and come out of the other side the person you are." I can't possibly tear my eyes away from hers but I find her hand, seemingly by instinct, and thread out fingers together. "You've had to deal with this alone for what, twelve years?"

"Thirteen." I barely hear her whispered response.

I know I don't do a very good job of hiding what I'm feeling as I let my thoughts and feelings have full rein. I don't ever recall laying out so clearly to another human being how I feel about something so deeply personal to them. Except for one, very short, retort to one of the rhetorical questions I set before her, she allows me to get through what I need to say to her. She squeezes my fingers occasionally, as if to tell me it's okay to continue.

I look at her the entire time I'm talking, even when she drops her eyes from mine. She doesn't break eye contact for long. When her eyes return to mine I see that although the pain is still there it seems to have lessened, the guilt seems to have fled entirely. I know it can't be this simple. That it will take a great deal more from both of us to get through this is beyond doubt. I can only hope that she will continue to let me be here for her, as I finally finish saying what I need to say and drop my eyes from hers.

"Bobby." My eyes shift back to hers and I see a maelstrom there but the way she just said my name, soft and almost breathless, reminds me of how she sounded when we made love and I can't help the heat that is now coursing through me.

"Alex?" I can't push her, not before this and certainly not now.

"Make love to me. Please, Bobby." There's no mistaking the desire in her voice and I feel no hesitation as I stand. I bring her with me, our hands still joined, and lead her back to the room we spent last night in.

A/N: Phew – four chapters in under 24 hours – not bad. Now if only I could get my muse to work half as hard on 'Sammi's Daddy' I'd be really pleased with myself ;o) LOL