A/N: This is my offering and my first foray into fan fiction. Make no mistake this is a romance fic. But it's overlayed on a pretty benign case file that I used as a vehicle for the character and couple development. This is an M fic (for swearing and sexual content.) It doesn't start that way so give it a shot even if M isn't your bag.

Forgive any questionable grammar.

I didn't play with canon although my prologue session with Gyson is cutting room floor stuff. Watching the show I found the therapy sessions to be mildly unfulfilling, feeling quite shallow, rehashing the Robert Goren we already knew. I like to think my version feels like those sessions but delves a little deeper. It slots most easily in after Trophy Wine I suppose (questions of loneliness) but this story is definitely meant to take place after TtBitBKC.

Prologue

She sat her hair flowing, her eyes trained, her affect schooled to reveal nothing.

"So during our last session we were discussing intimate relationships and more specifically loneliness." The doctor tilted an earnest head and looked deeply into Detective Goren's eyes. He met her gaze briefly but then glanced down at the polished tips of his size 13 Ferragamos.

"Can we move on from that topic?"

"Yes." she paused "But then I would have to ask why."

"It's just..." he stopped and changed course. "I think we've fleshed it all out."

A small smile creased her face. "Actually I asked you a question and you declined to answer."

"Can you repeat the question then."

"Three sessions ago I asked if you were lonely."

Bobby remembered the question well because it had lead to a spiral of anger, insecurity and fear on his part. And each subsequent session had been marred by it as he desperately deflected filling their hours with irrelevant stories and shallow observations. Gyson had been in damage control for weeks, trying to get him to recognize his internal triggers and acknowledged the thought patterns that caused him to shut down and lash out. And now they were back again, back at the pivotal question that started it all. He pressed two knuckles to his lips. He didn't think he could be evasive anymore and retain his job.

He shrugged. "I confide in my partner and you."

She nodded briefly. "And the loneliness?"

"Loneliness is decadent." he said. That got a rise out of her but she betrayed it only by shifting in her stylish leather chair. Her face remained impassive.

"How can experiencing any emotion in the spectrum of human emotion be called decadent?"

"I meant loneliness is for navel-gazers, people with too much time to consider themselves."

"Yes, by definition. But you don't really think there's anything wrong with that?"

"I do." He thought it was weak. Part of him thought therapy was weak. He kept all that to himself.

"Okay, so you won't allow yourself to experience loneliness or you just refuse to acknowledge it?"

He thought for a moment. "The latter. This job is a harsh mistress. I don't have time to be lonely."

"Friendships?"

"You mean do I have any?" he laughed without humour.

"Yes."

"I still have a few buddies from the old days. A couple from narcotics, an old captain. But I'm not a big talker. And I can't handle the alcohol the way I used to." He gestured with long fingers, "Mo-most of them have moved on. Marriage, kids... Even grandkids..." Deakins. He'd just welcomed his first granddaughter. Bobby couldn't believe how the years had flown by.

She nodded.

"I still see Lewis often enough." No explanation needed. His friend's name was familiar in this room.

"Often enough?"

"4 maybe 5 times a year." A small smile played on his lips. "That's about all the time we can eke out."

She validated him with a slow nod. She understood adult friendships all too well.

"When was the last time you went on a date?" She changed tack.

He looked up squinting then counted back. "Ah, about 6, 7 months ago. Sarah."

"How did you meet her?"

"In a bar. In a cop bar."

"And you only went out once." she gestured punctuating the word by holding up a finger.

He shrug nodded "Twice actually. We were.. uh... physically compatible. Nothing else.

"You had intercourse?"

"Really?" he asked in disbelief that she would push past his inference and be that direct.

"It's relevant to you as sexual being. As a man that wants more for himself."

"Okay. Yes."

"But..." she supplied spurring him on to conclusion.

"I'm a little old to humour someone that doesn't challenge me."

"We're getting somewhere. You consciously opted out of a relationship with Sarah."

"I don't think I ever really opted in. I wasn't looking for anything lasting."

"So it was just sex."

He shrugged. It had been mindless and mechanical and sort of awful in retrospect. He'd felt great in the moment and then later he'd felt disgusting and cheap. And then he'd called her and they'd done it all over again. He shook his head ever so subtly. Sometimes he didn't know why he did the things he did, a masochistic impulse somewhere deep inside. Gyson gave a questioning lift of her brow.

"Yes just sex. Physical release." he stared her down. If she was willing to go there so was he.

"So you acknowledge that you have a type."

"I guess... I've been around the block now, certain things matter."

"Tell me what matters." she shook her chestnut mane.

He leaned way back in the chair with it's deep loungy incline and laughed breathily. "Okay. Strength of character, principles, intelligence, someone that can keep up with my" moved his hands up and down in opposition "non-linear thinking, acceptance of my considerable baggage."

"All very honourable criteria." she pursed her lips "And physically?" she asked "What do you look for physically."

"Is this going somewhere?" he moved restlessly in the chair crossing and uncrossing his long legs.

"It's all part of acknowledging yourself and your motivations. Consciousness is the key to behaviour modification." she leaned in now. "If you really want what other people have, companionship, a life partner, we need to understand why you behave as you do in intimate relationships."

"Physically." He turned sideways in the chair to face her, slinging an arm over the back "Physically." he repeated again impatiently "I'm a man, I like beautiful women."

"What constitutes beautiful to you?"

He found this whole thing a little inane and quite uncomfortable so he decided to turn the tables "Long chestnut brown hair." gazed at her giving her his sweetest look "rich umber eyes. A delicate heart shaped face."

She flushed "Bravo detective." She got his game. "But the only one hurt by your dishonesty is you."

"That was honest. You are a beautiful woman, and pretty in line with my... type. At least on first blush." For as long as he could recall he'd had this predilection for two types of women: the slender, but sexy, long haired brunette. And the damaged goods. The women with the sad eyes and erratic behaviour. He had come of age on a diet of those fantasies and his preferences had factored into most of his real life romantic decisions. He honestly didn't want to know if it was because he had mommy issues.

"Just an observation." she met his eyes. "Since you acknowledge that you have a physical 'type' going against it might be beneficial, even if you have to think of it less as dating and more as an anthropological study."

"Because?" He asked irritably. Then recognition dawned "Because I've been repeating patterns with no measurable success."

"Well it's all a journey not a destination," she smiled at the cliche "so thinking in terms of success and failure might not be ideal. But yes, I'm suggesting a break from habits and patterns."

There was a fairly lengthy pause before she slowly asked "What about your partner?"

"This again." he groaned angrily, weary of what she might draw out of him. "I thought we agreed that a man and a woman can work together and not be intimate."

"Of course. Men and women can be just colleagues, I would never suggest otherwise. What I want to explore is the quality of your working relationship with your partner. The trust and intimacy between partners in your profession rivals most marriages."

He pondered that for a moment. And felt the hackles rise.

"Well if we're talking types she definitely isn't mine" he bit out.

"Do you consider your partner a beautiful woman?" she prodded because she wanted to make him uncomfortable, shake something loose, anything.

"I really don't want to discuss this." he stood up abruptly, pacing, feeling the same fight or flight response he'd felt in this room before. Why was she torturing him with this line of questioning. He rubbed his fingers harshly through his hair. "Why are you pushing me toward my partner?" He realised she wasn't doing that at all. But this was definitely an illicit line of questioning. For years he had suppressed every single impulse to think about Eames this way. Ever. Intellectually he knew that the doctor was just trying to get him to define his most healthy relationship. But he just didn't want to and he was hoping that a whiff of impropriety might get her to back off.

"Robert, I need you to sit." she instructed in a tone that brooked no argument. He glanced longingly at the door then sat again. She continued, folding her hands in her lap. "It would be unprofessional of me to encourage you to pursue a relationship with your partner."

He nodded.

"But the relationship deserves deeper consideration as your most important non-familial bond. Is it fair to say that?"

Goren nodded briefly 'familial even' he thought meanly, and the caustic comment reminded him of Eames.

"And please, don't say anything that doesn't conform to what you honestly feel." Gyson took a deep breath. "Do you consider your partner a beautiful woman?"

"I... She's a cop. That's asexual."

The doctor said nothing just sat and stared hard until he was driven to fill the silence.

"Okay." He sighed moving his head restlessly. "I have considered this. Early on in our partnership she was more woman than cop. I didn't know her. I had no idea if we would be professionally compatible. So I guess I was as objective as I've ever been. And objectively she is a beautiful woman." he nodded, "Very physically attractive." Then he added "In a real way. She's a real woman for this real world."

"Real," she repeated because he had so often. "You rate that highly."

He gave a short nod. "I know who I am, what I do, what I look like. Late nights, early mornings, lies, liars, vices. There isn't any room for make believe here."

"So you value authenticity."

He nodded. "Eames is the most authentic person I have ever met."

"What do you think makes your partnership so successful?" He tilted his head looking for clarification. She elaborated "... your solve rate? The length of time you've been together?"

He sat a while and pondered it. It was an enormous question but there really was only one answer. "Alex." he said her name. Her first name. It felt surprisingly good on his tongue.

Her eyes widened ever so slightly but soon her mask was in place again. "That's" she hesitated "kind."

He shook his head "Not kind, honest." He turned the thought over in his head, how vitally important Eames was to him.

"Tell me about her. Not a string of facts." she cautioned "About her personality."

She reads people in an instant" he smiled slightly "Eames is a bonafide BS detector."

"What else?"

"She... She's steady, you know?" he searched for the words."A calming influence."

The doctor nodded slowly and waited.

"She handles our PR."

"PR?" she pursed her lips and knitted her brow.

"For every case there's us." held a hand out to one side "and there's managing perception." he held the other hand out."The captain and the DA usually, but also the press, the Chief of D's, the victim's family. Two legs constantly rubbing. I have a hard time... I'm more theoretical. Eames is more practical. Eames is the natural communicator."

"You said that early on your assessment of your partner was objective. And now that you aren't so objective. How do you feel?"

"She has grown in my estimation."

"Meaning?"

"I know her now and I know she's selfless, kind, tough," he huffed out a laugh thinking of Eames in take no crap mode. "I trust her, she always has my back. And we value the same things."

"Give me an example?" she leaned in.

"Of?"

"Of a common value."

"Politics. We both always put the case before the politics."

"So neither of you are political animals? You don't want promotion or recognition?"

He sat back and huffed. Did he? Did they? Maybe, but it just wasn't in the cards anymore. Besides in his experience either a detective worked the case or they worked the room. Glad handing and solving weren't compatible. His lips quirked because he didn't think he'd ever pleased anyone in his life.

Gyson tucked one elegant leg beneath her waiting.

"Maybe at one time." he said a bit wistfully. He had an ocean of guilt inside about anchoring Eames to his mediocrity, when she could have been captain, hell, chief if she wanted. "Eames could have been more, I think. She could have climbed the ladder. But I'm..." he sighed "I'm a liability."

"Did she say that?" there was a note of disdain she couldn't hide.

"No of course not." Well, she had intimated once, with Leslie LeZards shrieks still ringing in their ears, but at the time she hadn't sounded cruel just… well… resigned. "In fact she told me just a few days ago that this is where we're supposed to be. She thinks we're doing, have done, a lot of good."

"Do you agree?"

He nodded "I'm going to finish my career with Eames." he hadn't known he was going to say that, but it felt so true once he had.

"What other qualities make the partnership work."

He heard the word partnership, he really did, but he just got mentally locked on Eames. "She's smart. Somehow she always knows where I'm going with something. Looking at the beginning and seeing the end, that's a real gift." He felt a bit euphoric and the doctor nodded. "She's supportive even when everyone thinks I'm crazy. She's dedicated, she's consistent." He took a deep breath "She has seen the worst of me and she's still my friend. Eames just gets it, all of it." His entire countenance softened while thinking of her, his eyes, his lips, his posture it was one of the few pleasures he had in life, their friendship. But it was a secret pleasure. He hadn't meant to broadcast it. He abruptly looked way lest Dr. Gyson discover it. But she was a professional hawk. And when he turned back she was giving him a peculiar look.

He felt his jaw slacken and a sickly fluttering in his stomach. He hadn't intended to go on about Eames, but in his mind he rotated around her axis. Without her gravitational pull he'd have gone spinning off into the darkness long ago. Eames was what made everything work. And Paula Gyson, sharp little Gyson had punctured the seal and suddenly he was gushing about her. He had never said any of that out loud. It was completely true. but all strung together that way it sounded... God...

She had worked him. And quite effectively.

"That's enough for today." she said making no direct comment because she trusted he was quick enough to get it. "This was very productive." His head was spinning. He felt so vulnerable so emotionally uncertain. So this was a good session? When he had vertigo and wished he could take it all back? Gyson gathered her paper, pen and file folder and placed them her desk just so. Then casting a glance over her shoulder said, "Same time next week?"