A/N: Just something that went through my head when I heard this song. Song lyrics appear in bold italics
All By Myself
Bobby sighed as he turned the key and heard the deadbolt unlock; he pushed the door to his apartment open.
Home. Alone. As usual.
He hadn't really felt like going straight home after work, but there was nothing else he really felt like doing, either.
He stepped out of his shoes and wearily headed to the living room, carelessly tossing the day's mail onto the end table before sinking into his deep leather couch. The bills could wait. As a matter of fact, they'd have to, since he was just coming off five months without pay.
He tilted his head back to rest against the plush cushion. He'd been tired before, but not like this. This was the type of tiredness that a good night's sleep –even if he could get one—couldn't fix. This was different –a weariness of his inner being, deep in the core of his mind, heart and soul.
He had been so happy to get his shield and gun back –to be back on the job, but the curt, cold treatment he'd gotten from Alex quickly put an end to that, as did the 'furry friend' he'd found in his side drawer. But, at least he was back and was glad for it.
He wasn't glad, however, for the way things were going between him and Eames. He felt 'on edge' every day, always having to keep himself in check while around her --not wanting to compliment her on her work or skills or hunches for fear she'd misconstrue his words as condescending or patronizing. How can I let her know how much I appreciate her? How could she even think that 'I'm the genius and she carries my water'? Hell, I even told Nelda that we have complimentary skills –but I guess I never told Eames. Some friggin' genius. I can't figure my way out of this one.
With both hands he rubbed the tiredness from his eyes, stopping for a moment to massage his temples, where another headache was brewing.
He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV –now his only companion—and scanned to the channel of TV listings for the night. As he reviewed the schedule, trying to find something worthwhile to keep him entertained for the evening, the station's background music caught his ear.
…When I was young
I never needed anyone…
Bobby huffed a small chuckle at the irony of the song currently playing. Ain't that the truth. I learned at a pretty young age that I could only rely on myself –what with mom's problems, dad's drinking and carousing, and Frank –staying away from home as much as he could to avoid it all. I've practically been all by myself since I was seven.
…And makin' love was just for fun
Those days are gone
Livin' alone
I think of all the friends I've known
But when I dial the telephone
Nobody's home…
Geesh, I can't remember the last time I was with a woman. Those were the days, though. Lola, Irene, Denise –and a bevy of others I can't even remember –a different girl every weekend. I wonder what they're all doing now? Probably married with kids…hell, maybe even grand kids. I wonder if my aloofness, my dedication to my job made them feel as alone as I feel now. As I am now.
All by myself
Don't wanna be, all by myself anymore
All by myself
Don't wanna live, all by myself anymore
There was a time when I could call Eames day or night. I knew she'd always be there for me, offering her sage advice, or a shoulder to cry on –or sometimes just a pizza and a few laughs. She was always here for me. Now I just consider myself lucky that she's still showing up for work. I hate the way we are now –I have to tiptoe around her all day, precariously teetering –and petrified of falling—because I know she won't be catching me this time.
Hard to be sure
Sometimes I feel so insecure
And love so distant and obscure
Remains the cure
She's 'distant' all right. That's what I need: the cure. How do I fix this? How can I remedy all the things I've done to hurt her –to hurt our partnership?
All by myself
Don't wanna be, all by myself anymore
All by myself
Don't wanna live, all by myself anymore
As the song from the TV ended and segued into another, Bobby grabbed the remote and clicked 'off'. He reached into his pocket, retrieved his cell phone and hit No. 1 on his speed dial (the number formerly assigned to Carmel Ridge).
Hello?
"Hi. It's me," Bobby said tentatively.
I know. I've got caller ID, she answered.
"I umm, I was wondering…" Bobby stammered.
Over the line, he heard Eames let out an impatient sigh.
"I was wondering if maybe you could come over, or-or-or I could come over to your place –for pizza or Chinese or something," he sputtered, then almost cringed as he waited for her reply.
"Why?" Alex asked.
Bobby had a million reasons, but didn't know what to say. Then it dawned on him: tell her the truth. That's why she's pissed off at me in the first place, for not telling her the truth.
"Goren?" she prompted. It didn't escape him that she was still calling him by his sir name and not 'Bobby.'
"I-I, um," he fumbled for words, feeling self conscious and embarrassed. "I-I, I'm home –alone –an-an-and I don't wanna be by myself anymore." And while spitting out that admission was one of the hardest things he's ever said, he mentally berated himself for plagiarizing Eric Carmen's lyrics.
The line remained quiet for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Bobby heard:
"Pizza. The usual," Alex answered. "I'll be there in half an hour."
Although Alex ended the call abruptly, Bobby was smiling. It was a start.
He called Donnagio's and ordered their usual: a large pizza, half sausage and peppers, half mushrooms.
He went to his kitchen and got plates and glasses and napkins to set the table, along with salt and pepper and his bottle of crushed red pepper flakes (Alex's favorite).
He was still smiling as he set the table-for-two and awaited her arrival. It had been a very long time since there were two plates at his table. He laughed at himself and at how such a trivial sight could make his heart feel so good.
…fin…?
Musical credit:
All By Myself – Music & Lyrics by Eric Carmen