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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.

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Bobby lay on his back on the narrow cot, one arm resting on his chest, the other draped over his face, his knees bent so that his feet wouldn�t hang off the end. He didn�t move as Alex stopped before the door to his cell, didn�t give any sign that he knew that she was there, but he knew. She didn�t say anything, just reached into the pockets of her coat, first one and then the other, searching for the key.

�Looking for this?� The arm on his chest flexed at the wrist, raising his huge hand to reveal the dull metal key. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Alex threw her coat over the back of one of the chairs they�d used to hang the curtain.

�So, you�re a pick-pocket now,� she said, leaning against the cold metal bars.

�Well, I ... knew you would be back.�

�There�s more than one key to this door. Don�t make me go out there and get another one.�

�You won�t go out there because then you�d have to admit you couldn�t handle me -�

�Don�t you dare psychoanalyze me. I am not some perp for you to toy with -� She stopped herself, very aware that an emotional outburst was just what he wanted. �Let me in, Bobby. I need to talk to you.�

�I can hear you just fine from there, Eames.�

�Damnit, I am not talking to you through these bars, now open this door!� He sat up suddenly, swinging his legs off the cot and sitting with his knees practically up around his ears. If the cot had been any lower, it would have been on the floor. Like some gangly giant, he slowly unfolded himself, rising to his feet and gliding over to the cell door with long, dragging strides. She stepped back as he gripped the bars, pressing his face between them as he stared down at her.

"You're not up to ... this, not - not with that broken rib."

"Munch fixed me."

�Why do you want in here ... with me? You know what ... will happen, eventually.� Flashes of pain danced across his weary features and her heart ached for him, for all he had suffered, and all he was willing to endure. �After a while, you get used to the pain,� he said, reading her eyes. �Mostly.�

�And apparently you get used to the incubus, too,� she said. �This close and I can hardly feel it.� She stepped closer, reaching out as if to touch him through the bars, but he moved away.

�It has a ways to go yet. Like I told Bishop, if you must, come back in an hour.�

�We don�t have an hour, in case you�ve forgotten. Captain Cragen wants this wrapped up ASAP, and I don�t know about you, but I�d like to get home, take a shower, eat something and get to bed while it�s still dark outside.�

�You say that like I�ve been staying at the Ritz.� He cocked his head to one side. �You think I slept last night? Do you think I�ll ever sleep again?� He slid back up against the bars, his voice a rough whisper when he spoke. �I can�t close my eyes without seeing their faces, those women that I hurt, and now I see yours, too, lined with pain and fear ... except for when your eyes were closed, when you went away to - to your island paradise and your fantasy man.� His voice had dropped as the emotion welled up, breaking through the carefully guarded walls he�d placed around it. He was barely whispering now. �Who was he, Eames? Captain of the football team? Tom Cruise? Your dead husband?�

Whatever he was trying to do, it wasn�t working. The remark about her husband stung, but it would have cut like a freaking chainsaw if she hadn�t seen the desperate, raw and bleeding need for reassurance in his eyes. He was trying to push her away again, because that was what he was expecting, preparing himself for, even if it was the very thing he was hoping against all hope against. Sometimes, it�s easier to be disappointed.

�Bobby,� she said, very calmly, �the captain of our football team was an asshole, I can�t stand Tom Cruise; he�s too short, and I buried my husband a long time ago. I will always love him, but not like that, not anymore. And the man in my fantasy, the one who made love to me under that waterfall - � She reached out and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, giving the denim a sharp tug to make sure she had his full attention. � - it was you.� He made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat and started to turn away, but she jerked on his shirt again, more vehemently this time, and waited for him to raise his eyes to hers. Looking out at her was a wounded little boy, told so many lies, had so many promises broken, that he was afraid to believe, yet couldn�t help it.

It wasn�t pity that stirred her heart - sadness, yes, that part of him still lived in that dark and lonely place, but also a sense of awe, of wonder, and a great swelling of admiration for what he had become. She knew damn well what it felt like to scrape and claw and fight for every inch, the little woman in a big man�s world; she hadn�t realized that his fight had been no easier, the damaged man in a world of shiny, flawless exteriors. She waited for his full attention, and then said it again, so that he could read it in her eyes, too.

�It was you. Being with you was never the problem; being at the mercy of the incubus was. That's why I want in, because I would rather have sex with you now than be raped by that thing later."

"I can't. Don't you understand, I can't." Alex let go of his shirt and turned away.

"Quit being so selfish, Bobby," she said sharply, feeling like a total heel for such an underhanded attack. "This isn't about you anymore - It's about us. Deakins has all but said that he'll split us up at the first sign of trouble, and you moping around all hang-dog and guilty more than qualifies. Or do you want a new partner, and you just couldn't figure out how to tell me?" She stood with her back to him, waiting. After a long, heavy silence, she heard the key slide into the lock and the door swing open with a piercing squeal. "Thank y - Hey!" A strong arm wrapped around her waist and swept her up off the floor, right out of her shoes. "Robert Goren, put me down this instant!" she demanded, her bare feet kicking vainly against his muscular leg. Carrying her on his hip like a sack of potatoes, Bobby walked across the cell and dropped her on the cot. He crossed the room in two strides and slammed the door shut, then came back, looming over her as she sat up and brushed the hair out of her face.

"Why should I make this easy on you?" he asked, his voice a rolling growl. "So that you can clear your conscience - tell yourself you did what you had to ... to be able to sleep at night? So that you can close your eyes ... escape, and leave me here ... alone ... again ..."

"That's what's wrong," Alex said quietly, realization finally dawning on her. "It felt like I abandoned you." She stared up at him, a dull, hollow ache in her chest. "I'm sorry, Bobby, I didn't mean to." That was all he needed apparently, all it took. He lowered his eyes, drawing back, drawing into himself, speaking in that shy murmur that made you feel like he was talking to himself and you were just eavesdropping.

"It's okay, Eames, you were protecting yourself; you didn't know. I just ... felt so alone." He shuffled forward and sank down onto the floor, sitting with his back against the cot, his left shoulder almost touching her right knee. Knees drawn up to his chest, he cocked his head to one side and stared emptily across the room. "It was like I'd reached for you and you weren't there, like you were a thousand miles away and I might never find you again. I thought I had been alone before, but that ... that was the definition of loneliness. I don't want to be lonely any more." With that declaration he fell silent.

The faucet dripped into the sink - tap ... tap ... tap ... She could hear his voice, repeating, I don't want to be lonely any more. It was just a confession, just a statement - he didn't realize the door he had opened, and she couldn't, in good conscience, step through it, no matter how much she might want to. It would be so easy for her to lean down, her lips beside his ear, and whisper, 'I don't want to be lonely any more, either', but that wouldn't be fair - to either of them.

"I won't leave you again," she said suddenly. "If I had known, I never would have." He didn't answer for a moment, just reached out to absently run his fingers down the crease in the leg of her slacks.

"You can't stay with me forever, you - you won't. If we do this - choose to do this, what will it do to us?"

"Us?" she repeated, not sure exactly what kind of an us he thought they were.

"Our ... partnership." She found herself disappointed. Was that all he cared about - their work? "Those months that you were gone were the longest of - of my life. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you for good," he said, still fiddling with her pant leg. She leaned forward to see what was so fascinating. "Loose thread, here ... on the cuff." Alex shook her head as he leaned over and clipped the offending thread with his teeth, his breath warm against her ankle. As he raised his head she reached out and placed her palm against his unshaven cheek.

"I don't understand why I'm so important to you, if you think I'll up and leave at the first sign of trouble." His eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to speak, but she brought her thumb up across his lips. "I know that's not what you meant, Bobby. I was terrified of the very same thing, but we survived the first ordeal - and we're stronger for it. This is nothing. In half an hour we'll be up on the roof, we'll do the spell, we'll hunt down that son of a bitch that did this, and then we'll put it behind us, just like every case." He was silent for a moment, then frowned.

"Half an hour?" he asked skeptically.

"Sure, five minutes to get this taken care of, and twenty-five to grab a bite to eat. I'm starving." He smiled faintly. Taking that as a good sign, she leaned closer to kiss him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back.

"Not yet, not ... now." Frustrated, she pushed his hands away and stood, pacing across the cell.

"Why not?" she demanded. "Why not now? It's no different than waiting - the reason is the same, the process is the same, the result is the same, except that I don't have to give up control." She paused, her head tilted back as she stared up at the ceiling. Ugly ceiling. "I don't understand why you would want to feel that helpless again. Explain it to me, make me understand, Bobby."

"I don't want to be in control," he said, standing up. "I don't want it to be me doing that to you. Bad enough that the incubus has to do it through me, but it can't be me."

"That's why you stop." Alex ran a hand over her face. God, her skin felt so rough and dry, so old. She must look like crap. "You know, you keep doing that and you're going to give yourself an aneurysm.�

�What else am I supposed to do?� She gave him her best �Do I have to spell it out?� look. �I can�t do that to you, I can�t ... use you like that. You said it yourself - this isn�t about - about me, it�s about the incubus, and once it�s satisfied, that�s it, it�s finished.� Walking across the cell, she shed her wrinkled suit jacket, leaving her barefoot in black slacks and a sleeveless burgundy top. She threaded her jacket through the bars, then made her way back to the cot, stopping right in front of him, her hands on her hips.

�Yes, it is almost finished, or it would be, if you�d get over this need to feel guilty about everything. So this is our choice, so what? We�ve been making choices since we were born. I choose to have sex, enjoy it, and not feel guilty. How about you?� He stared at her a moment, then sighed and hung his head.

�Whatever you want, Eames.� Wow. Wasn�t this going to be fun?
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