A/N: Ok…by popular demand, here begins the sequel to Addicted to Him. Usually I have a story ready when I post it, but I'm doing this as I go. So if anyone has suggestions as we go along, feel free to let me know… I plan to put more story into this…more personal stuff, like this chapter, since so many seem to like it…but we'll get to the rough stuff, too…And here we go…

As always, these guys belong to Dick Wolf and no one else.

Logan grunted and shoved. Above him, at the other end of the long dresser, Goren gasped, followed by a moan of pain. "What the hell did you do that for?" he managed.

"Sorry. You ok?"

"Give me a minute."

"What's going on up there?" came a voice from below.

Logan yelled back. "Why couldn't you find a place with a damn elevator?"

"Have you tried finding an apartment lately, Logan? It took me almost four months to find this place."

"But the third friggin' floor?"

"Quit bitching and keep carrying, Logan," Barek yelled.

He opened his mouth to reply but Goren cut him off. "Don't say it, if you know what's good for you."

"Say what?"


Logan mumbled under his breath. "Fine. You ready to go on?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

Logan waited until he felt Goren lift his end of the dresser before he lifted his. He heard Barek and Eames come up behind him. "What would happen if I poked him?" Barek asked Eames.

"He would shoot you after he gets out of the hospital," Logan answered.

Goren dropped his end of the dresser, jarring Logan, who swore. "Quit laughing, Goren," he grumbled at the other cop. He turned to face the two women, bracing the dresser against his shoulder. "Would you ladies like a shot at carrying this damn thing up the stairs?" He looked at Eames. "I take it you couldn't find a heavier dresser?"

She smiled. "I don't hear Goren complaining."

"Just wait," Goren called. "Come on, Logan. We still have a flight and a half to go."

"And a lot more furniture to carry up," Eames reminded them.

Grumbling, Logan hefted the dresser. "Ready when you are."

Eames unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping out of the way so Goren and Logan could carry the dresser in to the apartment. Logan was first, and he glanced at the doorway. "Eames, if this sucker doesn't fit, you're going to be furnishing the hall."

Goren groaned. "It better fit. Who measured it?" Silence. "Great."

They got to the doorway and Logan stopped. "Well…I have good news and bad news. Let's set the thing down."

Though tempted to just drop it, they set the dresser down outside the door. Goren said, "Ok, let's hear it."

"The good news is the dresser will fit. The bad news is we have to take the door off to get it in."

Goren leaned back against the dresser, his hand pressed against his side. "Ok. We'll need a hammer and a screwdriver."

"Are you ok, Bobby?" Barek asked.

He nodded. "Fine."

Eames frowned at him. "You're pushing it, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not pushing it. Quit worrying."

"That's my fault," Logan said. "When I shoved the dresser at you, right?"

Barek smacked him. "I told you to be careful, you baboon."

Goren pushed away from the dresser. "I'm fine," he snapped, annoyed at the attention. He headed for the stairs. Eames caught up to him at the top of the staircase. "Bobby?"

He leaned closer to her. "It's all right. I'm going down to get a screwdriver and hammer from my car. I'll be right back."


She stepped down onto the step in front of his and unbuttoned the lower half of his shirt. "Eames, what are you doing?"

Pushing his shirt open, she examined the area over his liver, where Nicole Wallace had stabbed him nearly five months ago. He closed his eyes as she ran her fingers lightly over his skin. "Alex…enough…"

"Chill out. It's starting to bruise, Bobby."

"I'll put ice on it later. They said my liver is fine. Stop worrying."

He started past her, stopping when his face was level with hers. Leaning closer, he kissed her. "You asked for that," he whispered. He continued down the stairs, buttoning his shirt.

She watched him go before returning to the hall outside her new apartment. Logan was studying the area. "Not a bad building. A lot nicer than mine."

"I've seen buildings in the ghetto nicer than yours," Barek said.

Logan slid the dresser away from the doorway and went into the apartment. He wandered through the living room, down to the bedroom and back through the living room to the dining area and kitchen. "Great floors, Eames. Nice hardwood."

"That was one of the place's selling points. There's beer in the fridge, if you want one, Mike."

He grinned. "My hero. You want one, Barek?"

"Sure. But just remember you're moving heavy furniture and you've already injured someone sober. I'm not rescuing you from under a mattress if you and Bobby get drunk before you're done. Got it?"

"Yes, Mother."

Goren came into the room with the screwdriver and hammer. He stopped when everyone looked at him. "What?"

Eames smiled. "Nothing. Go ahead and take the door off."

He looked uneasy, but turned to his task. Logan set his beer down and crossed the room to help him. A couple of taps of the hammer on the screwdriver and the hinges were apart, the door was propped against the wall and the dresser was in the living room.

Logan leaned against it. "Do you have anything else wide like this or can we put the door back on?"

"I think you can put the door back on."

"What about your couch?" Goren asked. "It's a pretty big couch."

Logan grinned. "You'd know—you've been sleeping on it for the past five months."

Barek slammed her elbow into his side. "You have no tact at all, you know that?"

"Since when do I need tact around him?"

Goren half-grinned and looked at his partner. "Are you sure?"

She thought about it. Holding her arms out to estimate the width of the couch and comparing it to the door, she nodded. "Yeah I'm sure."

"Ok…" He and Logan put the door back on and they all went back down for more furniture.

With a final heave, the two men got the couch to the top of the stairs. "Damn it, Eames," Logan grumbled. "What is it with the heavy furniture?"

"I can look for a heavier one, if you insist. Then you can take this one out and bring the new one in…"

"Will you just shut up, Logan?" Goren snapped. "You don't need a new couch, Alex."

She looked at Barek and they both laughed. They shoved the couch down the hall and discovered Eames had been wrong, and they had to take the door off again.

They positioned the couch in the middle of the living room, and Eames said, "The dresser doesn't belong in the living room, boys."

Goren and Logan looked at each other, but they didn't say anything. They just pushed the dresser down to the bedroom door, and found it was too big to get through that doorway, too. "We planned this well," Logan remarked as Goren worked on the door.

Barek glanced at him as she held the bedroom door while Goren removed the hinge pins. "You know how to use a tape measure as well as any of us," she said.

Goren took the door from her and leaned it against the wall. Logan gave the dresser a shove, forgetting about the polished wood floors. The dresser shot through the doorway, knocking Barek over and clipping Goren's hip. Barek jumped up. "That's it, Logan," she growled.

He was gone before she got to the doorway. Eames came into the room with a box, looking down the hall. "What'd he do now?"

Goren had pushed the dresser against the wall. "He's just being Logan," he grinned.

"Why are you limping?"

"Forget it. Let's get the rest of this furniture up here before it gets too late or starts to rain."

"Springtime in the city. Gotta love it."

He smiled. "I do." He took her into his arms and gently kissed her. "I love you, too."

She hugged him, resting her head against his broad chest. She always felt safe in his arms, and over the past few months, even though he spent most nights on the couch, she had felt safe just because he was there. She was glad he refused to let her stay alone until she had a new place. At least she was able to sleep at night. She sighed. "Let's go save Logan from his partner."

Goren took a mental inventory of his bruises. "Why?"

She laughed and gave him a light kiss. He smiled and followed her from the room.