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Release	By : KaticaLocke Category: G through L > Law & Order Views: 3500 -:- 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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"You okay?" Alex asked as she approached her partner. He was on her laptop again. The bloodstain had spread halfway down his back and still looked wet.

"Just a scratch," he said. She glanced at the cut above his eye. It could probably use a stitch or two - one of those butterfly bandages at the very least - if he didn't want a scar. Then again, scars could be sexy, not that Bobby needed any help in that area. Whoa, hang on one damn minute. Alex took a mental step back from that thought. Was that actually her making that insane observation, or was it the incubus talking?

True, she had been mildly attracted to him at one time, but that just seemed the natural course of events that their relationship took. At first, she'd been wary, on guard, perhaps because of what others had said about this peculiar, forty-something bachelor with the boyish grin, perhaps because of his sheer size. Once she realized that he wasn't going to put the moves on her, that she didn't need to prove herself worthy to be his partner, sure, he'd been charming and cute, in a totally platonic, non-threatening way.

That had lasted for nearly a month, and then he got weird. Sniffing corpses, scaring suspects, telling SCU how to do their job, acting like a compete know-it-all, and dragging her into his manipulative schemes. It took her almost a week to realize that this was the real Robert Goren, that her cute and charming partner was just an act. Well, maybe not an act, but at least a cover. It had frightened her at first, but then it dawned on her - he was comfortable enough around her to be himself, to not have to hide. They were friends, and had been ever since, best of friends ... until now.

She could have slapped herself for allowing the thought to cross her mind. Of course they were still friends ... they had to be.

"How did you - ?" she started, meaning to ask him about that jab at Stabler's home life, but as often happened, she didn't even need to finish the sentence.

"Overheard them talking," he said, scowling at the computer screen. The internet was one of his least favorite tools. Unfortunately, with his books back at One Police Plaza and the library definitely off limits, it was all he had.

"Ah, what fools these detectives be," she said with a smile. Nobody at Major Case made idle chit-chat within earshot of the great Robert Goren, not unless you wanted him to corner you later in the day and explain why your dog keeps chewing up table legs, or a week later ask how your sister's mammogram went while you're waiting for the elevator. Her levity escaped him, though, as his eyes devoured the web page before him. "Found anything?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Raum is German," he said. "It means a room, or a place. It's also the name of one of the fallen ... angels, formerly of the order of the thrones, now a great earl in - in Hell."

"You think this is a ... demon?" Alex asked, trying to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

"I'm not sure what to think," he replied, and that clearly bothered him. "Whatever else he is, Raum is dangerous. I heard the fear when she said his name, heard the depravity, the ... pleasure in his voice when he told me - " He glanced at her, then went back to pecking at the keyboard.

"Told you what?" He didn't answer. "Bobby, what did he - ?" She stopped as Dr. Huang appeared at her side, a small first aid kit in his hand.

"You should let me have a look at that, Detective," he said, setting the little red bag on the desk. �That spike may have punctured a lung.�

�I think I would know if it had,� Bobby replied.

�Maybe not. Just to be safe, I should - �

�Don�t touch me ...� or you�ll be sorry. The unspoken threat hung heavy in the silence as Dr. Huang drew back. He and Alex exchanged glances, their thoughts clearly running down the same path. He turned and walked away, taking a seat on the other side of the room, near Sledge. Praying that she was wrong, Alex reached out and laid her hand on Bobby's bare forearm, causing him to flinch. The incubus breathed across her skin, waking the dark heat within her, teasing, caressing, making her want him.

�It�s started again,� she said quietly, but she didn�t pull back. Fighting it wasn�t as hard as before. Maybe the cycle wasn�t as advanced as the first time they�d touched, or maybe she was getting used to it; either way, the power didn�t wash over her, robbing her of her senses and plunging her into some X - rated fantasy. No, it was much crueler than that, reminding her of the pain, the pleasure, the closeness she�d felt while in his arms, and it hinted at what could have been, had they only given in.

�Hey, Eames, you okay?� Alex pulled her hand back and glanced over at Sledge. He had risen half out of his seat. She waved him back down.

�Relax, Sledge. This is nothing, trust me,� she said with a humorless laugh as she reached for the first aid kit and began rifling through the bag. �All right, you, off with the shirt,� she said, addressing Bobby without looking up. �Dr. Huang�s right; that wound needs to be taken care of, even if it is just a scratch.� She found some antiseptic pads and pulled them out.

�Really, Eames, I�m fine,� he said shifting uncomfortably in his chair. �You shouldn�t be touching me.� Alex reached out and cupped his cheek in her hand, his stubble rough against her palm. She turned him to face her.

�I don�t mind,� she said. Something restless and hungry moved behind his intense brown eyes, something that threatened to devour the man in there with it, something that recognized her, and she almost pulled away, but she couldn�t do that to him. She was his anchor, his lifeline, and she couldn�t - she wouldn�t cut him loose. She let her fingers trail over the curve of his jaw, then raised her other hand to dab at the cut above his eye. He winced as the antiseptic stung. �Sorry.�

�Are you?� he asked. �Are you sorry ... about ... what happened?� Alex opened her mouth, but words failed her and she closed it again. She was suddenly very busy wiping the blood off his face. How, exactly, was she supposed to answer that? She couldn�t just say, �Yeah, Bobby, I�m sorry we had sex.� That was cruel and - and - and not entirely true.

Honestly, she was sorry that it had to happen, that they had no choice, that they had to do it in a cold, ugly jail cell, hurt, angry, scared, helpless, and if she lost him, then she was sorry for that too, but in that one heartbeat where time seemed to stop, she had felt so ... whole, safe, loved. The only thing she was sorry about, for that moment, was that he didn�t feel it as well.

But she couldn't say that.

"Regret is too simple for something this complex," she said, cleaning away the last of the blood. He was going to have one hell of a bruise. She found the bandages and neatly closed up the cut. Now, if he would just leave it alone to heal, the scar would be barely noticeable. "All right," she said brusquely, "let's see that back of yours." She reached for his shirt, to undo the buttons, but he caught her by the wrist, his big hand enveloping hers. She knew better, but she raised her eyes to meet his anyway.

Apparently, regret was not too simple, because she read it clearly in his face, regret thick enough to choke on. He opened his mouth to speak, but Alex cast a pointed glance in the direction of their chaperones, where Sledge and Huang were watching them like hawks. Bobby let go and dropped his eyes. He unbuttoned and removed his own shirt, turning his broad back toward her. For a second, she just stared, her eyes moving over the deep scratch left by the paper spike and lingering on the scabbed over fingernail marks.

"Is it bad?" he asked. She tore her eyes away and fetched another antiseptic pad.

"It's deep," she said, "but you're right; it's just a scratch." Standing just short of an arm's length from him, she began cleaning the wound. It was hard to concentrate; she kept glancing at the half moons of dried blood, the red welts across his shoulders. So that was another thing she was sorry about, sorry that she had hurt him.

"Where did you go?" he asked suddenly. She frowned.

"When? When I went to get coffee?" He shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was so low she practically had to lean over his shoulder to catch his words.

"When we were ... together. You were so tense, fighting so hard," he said, "and then you relaxed. You went ... away, you escaped. To where?"

"Bobby, that's - "

"Personal? That's kind of the point, I think." He shifted in his chair. "You don't have to tell me, Eames, I understand."

"No, you don't," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Sledge. She gave her head a jerk, motioning for them to get lost, but Sledge crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. She narrowed her eyes at him, then turned back to Bobby. Taking a step closer, she rested one hand on his bare shoulder while she continued her ministrations with the other. "The ocean is this bright, green-blue," she said quietly. "The sand is so white and the jungle is dark and green and full of birds and butterflies. It's a small island, with no name, and deep in the jungle, there's a waterfall." She let her eyes drift shut, resting both her hands against his back, and let the scene fill her mind.

"The water splashes down a cliff of black rock, into a pool that reflects the dappled sunlight up onto the canopy. The water is cool on our skin, dancing over our bodies as we stand in the falls." She could almost feel the rushing water beating down on her, soothing her fevered skin -

"Sounds like paradise," he said, his voice rumbling through her hands. She drew back, suddenly finding it hard to catch her breath. A light sweat had broken out on Bobby's shoulders and goosebumps prickled down his bare arms. Setting her jaw, she went back to dabbing at the fresh blood seeping from his wound.

"It is," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "It's everything a fantasy is supposed to be - simple, perfect, and ridiculously unobtainable."

"And who is your simple, perfect and ridiculously unobtainable fantasy man?" Her hand slipped, digging her thumbnail into the edge of the cut and he hissed in pain.

"Sorry," she said, pressing the pad against the fresh upwelling of blood. "You know, this might be deep enough to need real sutures. When was your last tetanus shot?"

"Nice try, Eames," he said, "but I asked you a question. Who were you with?"

"Come on, Bobby," she said quietly, "this isn't the time - " He suddenly stood up and fixed Dr. Huang and Sledge with a hostile stare.

"Do you think you guys could give us a minute, here?" he asked, leaning forward and cocking his head to one side. It was unnerving when he was wearing his suit and tie; shirtless, it was downright creepy, watching the muscles flex beneath his skin. The doctor stood up, but reluctantly.

"I'm not sure leaving is - "

"And what are you going to do, should we start going at it right here on the desks - besides watch? You touch either one of us and you'll get snared as well. Or does a manage a troi sound like fun, Detective Sledge?" Sledge rose to his feet, his shoulders and neck stiff, hands clenched into fists. Alex shot him a look, half pleading, half warning.

"We'll be in the break room," he said shortly. "Just ... scream if you need us." She watched them leave, staring down the empty hallway after they'd gone, Bobby's question ringing through her mind, 'Who were you with?'

She had been with him. It hadn't occurred to her to imagine herself in someone else's arms. Being with Bobby hadn't been the problem - being fed on by an incubus in a jail cell had. But could she tell him that? Or would it just make an awkward situation worse? With a sigh, she turned - and found him gone.

He was on the other side of the room, pacing. A trickle of blood was running down his back.

"Damn it, Bobby," she said, grabbing a fresh antiseptic pad. "Get over here and sit down." For a second, he acted like he hadn't heard her, then he ambled over and silently took a seat. Perhaps a little rougher than necessary, she wiped the blood away and closed the wound with a couple of those little suture strips. It wouldn't hold for long, knowing him, but it was better than nothing. She slapped a big bandage over the top to keep it clean and threw his shirt at him. "You can put that back on now." She turned away.

"You're angry with me," he said. She wanted to spin around and say, 'You're damn right I am,' but the anger died before she could, leaving her exhausted and adrift.

"I'm not angry," she told him, staring at an empty spot on the wall. "I just, I don't how to answer you. It's too personal to share with a - a partner." She swallowed hard as he stepped up behind her.

"And that's all I am, your partner?" She shook her head.

"It's more than you'd tell a friend."

"Then we're just friends?"

"I don't know, aren't we?"

"Well, is that what you want?"

"I - What do you want?" His energy radiated onto her like heat from a fire. She closed her eyes, wishing that he would wrap his big hands around her shoulders and rest his chin on her head, hold her close enough to feel his heart beat against her back. Her eyes flashed open and she stepped away, her hands shaking. "I hate this!" she shouted. "I can't even trust that my thought are my thoughts. Just - just stay away from me!" She walked away.
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