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Release	By : KaticaLocke Category: G through L > Law & Order Views: 3499 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Law & Order, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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It was almost ten. The night air swirled around Alex's bare legs, the hem of her coat slapping against the backs of her knees. She shivered and tried to pretend that it was just the cold.

"That was clever," Olivia said softly, stepping up beside Alex. "How did you know he wouldn't see through both lies?"

"If he'd been in top form, he would have. I counted on the curse as a distraction."

"It worked." She was silent a moment. "Bobby is ... He's ..." She struggled to find the words.

"I know," Alex said with a smile. She'd been searching for the same words for as long as she�d known him. She was no closer to finding them now as when they first met. The phone rang and she jumped. She barely heard Olivia answer over the pounding of her heart. She needed a drink.

"Hey," Olivia said, nudging her with an elbow, "you okay?" Alex nodded. She couldn't bring herself to look at anyone as she started the long walk back into the building, but she could hear them behind her, blocking her escape route -- No, she wouldn't think like that. They were her honor guard, her backup, her friends. She lifted her chin slightly and tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. It didn't work. If she wasn't careful, she was going to cry, and she didn't want to go to Bobby in tears. It would crush him.

She left her compatriots in the squad room and continued on alone. The hallway was quiet and empty, but as she drew near the first junction, the fringe energy of the curse washed over her. Gritting her teeth, she waded in, pausing outside the metal door. The power of the incubus enveloped her, but she was still in control, she could still turn back. Once she passed the door, though, that would be it, the point of no return. She kicked off her shoes and pulled the door open.

Her bare feet made almost no sound on the cold cement floor, but she didn't think it was a sound that gave her away.

"Who's there?" Bobby asked, his voice rough, husky with pain. "Eames, is that -- It is you." She was still several cells away, and hidden by the curtain. "What are you doing here?" She didn't answer; she didn't trust her voice not to shake. "Eames? Alex?" He sounded close to panic. She swallowed hard and stepped through the gap in the curtain, pulling it closed behind her.

Bobby stood pressed against the bars of the cell, his big hands white knuckled as he clung for dear life. At the sight of her, he drew back, moving silently to the farthest corner of the eight by ten room. She knew she looked like a clich� from a bad porno movie; barefoot in her coat, chest heaving as she leaned against the bars of the prisoner's cell -- not that she had that much to heave. She just couldn't catch her breath.

She felt cold steel against the side of her face before she realized she'd moved against the bars. Just one more minute, she silently pleaded. She felt like a sand castle, wave after wave stealing the beach right out from under her, tearing her down until she was swept away, helpless, at the mercy of a power greater than any she'd ever known.

She found Bobby's dark brown eyes, shadowed and afraid, and pulled herself together. With him as her beacon, she could stand against anything. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the key to the cell door. Her hand was shaking. On the second try, she managed to slide the key into the lock. "Don't, Alex, please," Bobby whispered. She cleared her throat.

"We still haven't figured this out," she said. "But you know that; you spoke with Olivia. We may not figure it out tonight, not before dawn, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you die." She paused to catch her breath. "Besides, New York City has enough problems without turning into an eight million person orgy." She swung the door open and stepped inside.

Bobby took a step toward her, his movements stiff, disjointed, not the fluid, awkward grace he normally used to dance around the interrogation room. It was as if he were fighting against his own body.

"So, you're buying time, eh, Eames?" he said, giving her a cockeyed glance. "Who's idea was that? Stabler's"

"Munch's," she said.

"Ah. Not ... not yours. So what, you drew the short straw? You and Benson do rock, paper, scissors? Flip a ... coin?" He started to take another step toward her, but somehow managed to move sideways instead. "Or did you volunteer out of some sense of duty ... responsibility? Just another Bobby Goren mess you have to clean up? If so, I ... I appreciate the loyalty, but honestly, I'd have rather you flipped a coin. Then I'd have at least a fifty-fifty shot at it not being ... you."

Everyone who had ever seen Bobby talk a confession out of a suspect had later told her they never wanted to have Robert Goren mad at them. Now she'd have to hunt them all down and tell them that it was worse than they could ever have imagined. If she could have moved, she would have run away in tears. But then, that was what he wanted.

"You'd pick Benson over me?" Alex asked, raising one eyebrow. He wasn't the only one who could play this game, even if he had invented the rules. It was easy, just line up your target in you sights, squeeze the trigger -- you either hit or miss -- and then wait for the next one aimed at you. Nine millimeter table tennis.

"In a heartbeat," he said, looking more uncomfortable as he tried to pace and couldn't. He kept veering toward her. "I'd f--" He couldn't say it, he never could. "I'd pick anyone over you."

"Oh, it's too bad then that Olivia said -- What did she say, that the thought made her skin crawl? Something like that." She scored a hit with that one; she could see it in his eyes. "Detective Tutuola suggested we just put a bullet in your skull and call it a night, so don't assume you know what this visit means."

"So you've come to put Old Yeller down yourself? Somehow I doubt you've got your weapon hidden under that coat. I bet old Sledge was all for a little justifiable homicide, wasn't he?"

"Didn't ask."

"That wouldn't be so bad, would it Eames ... having him for a partner? I hear he even knows which end of the gun the little hard things come out of. Now why don't you go back to your new friends and just wait this out. Might even be fun, don't you think?"

"Munch already asked that I save the last dance for him. He reserved us a nice utility closet to retire to just before dawn."

"And just think, if you get pregnant, they might even let you keep this one." Alex stared at him in stunned silence, her whole body cold. Carrying her sister and brother-in-law's child, her own nephew, had been the most amazing experience of her entire life, but it had left her with an empty place, a hole in her life, made so much more obvious by the tiny soul that had temporarily filled it -- and he knew it. He'd been the only one to whom she'd confessed.

When she didn't return his volley he glanced at her. She wasn't as good at the game as he was; she couldn't hide the tears that cut a thin, cold line down her cheeks. She watched the realization dawn in his face, the knowledge that he had scored a mortal wound. He sank to his knees.

"Oh, Alex, I'm so sorry," he said. "I just -- I -- I just wanted you to leave before it was too late, be ... before you looked at me the way they did."

"They were scared, Bobby, they didn't understand. I do." Before she could reconsider, before he could pull away, she reached out and touched his cheek, his stubble coarse beneath her fingertips. His eyes widened in surprise as the curse crashed down upon them both.
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