OMEGA, ALPHA
As much as she loved her job, Alex Eames faced every day with some fear. Every cop—at least every cop with some sanity—carried a small nugget of fear in his or her mind. The nature of the job created it; every day could be the one where someone pulled a gun and took a life. The trick was to acknowledge the nugget and tuck it away in a tiny, dark corner of your mind and keep it there. Alex was a master of this trick; as a member of a family of cops and firemen, she received early and frequent training in the handling of fear. By the time she reached the Academy, Alex's sword and shield of bleak and black humor were fully developed. They served her reasonably well in her relationship with Bobby Goren, who shared and appreciated her weapons, but there were times when she felt all of her skills hopelessly inadequate. There were simply too many foes wielding too many weapons making too many attacks. In recent months, there had been the assault on her, Bobby's near death at the hands of an angry, suicidal cop, the likely fatal illness of his mother, the sudden reappearance of his brother. And so many of these enemies were Bobby's, not Alex's.
Bobby was at least now trying to fight his battles and let her help him. And from the moment he'd been allowed to see her in the hospital, he'd devoted his own sword and shield to her defense. He wasn't always there for himself, but he always attempted to be there for her. Unless caring for his mother prevented it, he picked her up from her physical and mental therapy sessions; he stopped at her house on the way to and from seeing his mother (he claimed it wasn't out of his way, but Alex knew the drive to her house took him at least an hour out of his way); he stayed or came when she had a particularly awful dream. He made no demands on her; even when he held her in her bed, Alex felt completely safe. She knew he wouldn't make any sort of move towards her, and she didn't know if this comforted or disturbed her.
They were dealing with one of those cases where the Brass breathed down Ross' neck, and Ross breathed down Alex and Bobby's.
"Damn," Alex muttered as they left the Captain's office. "I wish he'd just leave us alone and let us do the job."
Bobby sat quietly across from her. "He's under a lot of pressure," he said softly. "And, remember, Deakins rode us pretty hard for the first year or so."
"You're being generous," Alex said with a touch of surprise.
"Well," Bobby answered. "I owe him…He could've fired me…I pretty much dared him…" He stared at his computer screen for a moment. "I…I owe you too…Pretty much dared you to leave me…"
"Hey," Alex said gently. "We've settled that." She smiled. "But if we get this case closed and everyone off our backs, I'll be really grateful and forgiving."
Alex believed it was her carrot and not Ross' stick—Bobby, to her knowledge, had never responded well to sticks—that led to Bobby raising the already high level of his usual performance of his job. Within twenty four hours, they had a suspect. Within thirty six hours, they had a strong case. Within forty eight hours, they had a confession. Bobby had little time to enjoy their victory. Just as Ross left them after expressing his thanks, Bobby's cell phone rang. Alex saw the shadows form in his eyes when he saw the number and watched as his shoulders slumped as he stepped into an empty interview room to take the call.
"His mom," she thought and tried to focus on her paperwork. She failed, and when Bobby didn't return after several minutes Alex walked to the interrogation room. She knocked softly on the door and opened it. Bobby sat at a table and stared at his phone; his face drooped with exhaustion.
"Hey," she said softly. "What's wrong?"
When he looked up at her, Bobby didn't seem to recognize Alex. He stood abruptly, grabbed the phone, and was on the point of reeling from the room. He stopped and began rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to Alex.
"I…I have to go see my Mom and her doctors…About her treatment…" He was like a man trying to balance on a tightrope over a precipice. "I…I hate to leave you with the paperwork…But…"
"It's ok." She stood uncertainly on the other side of the table. She wanted to move closer to him, to comfort him, but his defenses were on full alert. "I'm glad to help…" She hoped he understood that she meant far more than the paperwork.
His dark eyes shimmered with pain and gratitude. "I…I know," he whispered. "It…It means so much." He turned to the door. "I…I…" He glanced over his shoulder. "I…I'm not telling you to back off…I…I don't want that…" Each word cost him. "But…I…I just have to…I gotta do this…alone…but…" His shoulders shook, and Alex rushed around the table to reach him. He raised a hand to ward her away. "Alex…please…you…you mean so much…" He shook his head. "What you do for me…But…please…right now…I'm sorry…"
Frightened and confused, Alex hovered near him. "You'll call me?" she finally asked. "You'll let me know what's going on?"
"Of…of course…"
Alex seized the small victory. "Good…you go do what you need to do…I'll let Ross know…"
"You shouldn't have to…" He started to protest.
"It's ok," she said firmly. "It's part of what partners…friends…do…"
He lacked the will and energy to fight her. "All right…" He hesitated at the door. "Thank you," he whispered.
Ross was remarkably sympathetic and understanding. "As long as you don't mind the paperwork, Eames," he said quietly. "Just let Goren know to keep me in the loop…"
She finished the paperwork—Alex occasionally thought that the work went faster without Bobby's interruptions, enjoyable though they often were—and headed home. She checked her cell for messages before she left, but wasn't surprised not to find any. At home, the only messages she discovered were from local realtors. She'd finally decided to sell the house that seemed less and less like home, and in spite of the erratic market, her house seemed to have several attributes making it attractive to potential buyers. Alex grew increasingly worried as the evening progressed with no word from Bobby. The day started warm and clear, but grey clouds appeared in greater numbers as evening approached. By the time night arrived, a thunderstorm was in full fury.
Alex desperately wanted to call Bobby, if only to make sure he wasn't driving in an exhausted state in the weather. She was about to make the call when she heard a knock on her door. She rushed to it and saw through the small window a drenched and bedraggled Bobby. She nearly snapped the bolt as she hurried to unlock the door. For a moment the storm's violence invaded the house as Bobby stood uncertainly in front of the door. Alex grabbed one of his hands and pulled him into the house. Shivering and shedding water, Bobby stood as she shut and locked the door. Alex turned to him; he was beyond soaked to the skin. The rain saturated his clothes, and she thought that his hair and skin couldn't hold another drop of water.
"I'm sorry," he blurted. "I'm getting everything wet."
"It's ok," she said as she moved to help him peel off his coat. "The floor is easy to clean…and it's just water."
She guided him to the large bathroom—something she knew she'd miss when she sold the house—and told him to take a shower before he froze to death. She collected a pair of boxers and a T-shirt from the small but growing pile of clothes Bobby kept at her house and dropped them on the bathroom sink's counter. As she shut the bathroom door, Alex fought the impulse to peek at Bobby's silhouette against the shower door. She put some of his wet clothes in the dryer and hung others to dry in the laundry room—another thing she'd miss about the house—and went to the kitchen to start the water for tea. By the time Bobby emerged from the bathroom, a large, steaming mug of tea waited for him. He wordlessly took it from her and meekly allowed her to lead him to her ridiculously large bed. She sat across from him in her father's old chair. For several minutes they sipped their tea.
"I'm glad you're here." Alex ventured to break the silence. "I'm glad you felt that you could come here."
He held the mug tightly and stared into the depths of the dark liquid. "I…I'm…" His voice was soft. "I'm glad…I'm grateful…" He took a large drink of tea. "I…I can't…don't know…how…to say…How much…it means to me…to be able to come here…"
"Another small victory," Alex thought. She smiled at Bobby. "You're welcome," she said.
They finished the tea. "Are you hungry?" Alex asked as she took his mug. "Do you want some more?"
"No…thank you," Bobby said softly.
She decided not to push. "Baby steps," she thought as she took the mugs to the kitchen. She rinsed and put them in the dishwasher. "Another thing," she thought. "That I'll miss. I wonder if I can find an apartment with a dishwasher that won't take all of my salary."
She returned to the bedroom. Bobby lay on his back, his left arm flung across his eyes. Alex found her extra large T-shirt and went into the bathroom. When she came back several minutes later, Bobby was on his side and huddled beneath the covers. She carefully slipped into the bed behind him and turned off the lamp.
The storm had retreated from its height and become a soft, soothing rain. It had nearly lulled Alex to sleep when she heard Bobby's low voice.
"Alex…Are you awake?"
She was immediately fully conscious. "Yes." There was less than an inch separating their bodies, but she didn't dare touch him.
"It…it's my Mom. It's bad. Her doctors…" Speaking the words took him a great effort. "The conventional therapies and treatments…They're not working…The experimental treatments…They…They won't let her in the trials because…because of her schizophrenia…And…and even if I could afford it…Her doctors…won't recommend it…One of them…" He swallowed, and Alex's hand hovered near his back. "He told me…That even if…if I could pay for it…He couldn't in good conscious…allow it…That it would…" Bobby curled his body tighter. "It would just cause her more pain…That it…It would be cruel…"
Alex found the courage to place her hand on his back. She felt the muscles and nerves tremble beneath his skin and shirt.
"I…I'm not like that, am I? I…I'm not cruel to her…Am…Am I?"
She could barely hear his voice, and the words broke her heart.
"Of course not." She struggled to control her voice. "You're a good man…You've always taken care of your mom."
"Not always," he whispered. "But…I've tried to talk to her…But…" He rolled over on his back; his arm covered his eyes. "All she'd say…She just wants to go back to Carmel Ridge…She just wants the pain to stop…I…I don't know if she understands…If she knows how sick she is…All she wants is for the pain and the treatments to end…and…" A bitter edge came to his voice. "And Frank…She wants Frank."
"Bobby," Alex breathed. She tenderly placed a hand on his chest. He trembled.
"I…I can't give her Frank…I can't find him…" He sighed. "Big shot detective…Can't even find one homeless guy."
"Bobby…Don't be so hard on yourself…You know how hard it is to find someone…Especially if they don't want to be found."
His trembling increased, and Alex wasn't sure if he heard her. "I…I can't give her Frank…but…but maybe…I can…give her…" He swallowed.
Alex reached for his arm and gently pulled it away from his eyes. They were squeezed tightly shut, but tears started to squeeze through the lids.
"I can give her…some peace…a little less pain…" His voice choked. Alex found and gripped his left hand. "Her doctors…I…decided…on a less aggressive treatment…a palliative one…to make her comfortable…as much as possible…" The trembling became shivering and the tears began to flow from his eyes.
Alex raised her upper body to cover Bobby's chest.
"Bobby," she whispered. "I'm so sorry…" She struggled to find the words to reach him, to help him. "I can only imagine how hard this is for you…But sometimes…the best thing you can do…the only thing…is to let go."
He started to shake, and a whimper escaped from his lips. Alex covered his body with her own; she rested her head just below his chin and, as much as she could, wrapped her arms around him.
"It's ok to cry," she said into the spot where his collar bone and throat and chest met. "It's ok."
She didn't know if he heard her of if his burdens simply became too much for him, but Bobby began to cry—to sob really—in full force. He cried for several minutes, at one point his sobs violently shaking not only his body and Alex, but the entire bed. Exhaustion finally took him, and he rested mutely, his hands resting in Alex's hair.
"I…I'm sorry," he said in an empty voice. "I…I…"
"It's all right," Alex said as she tried to hid the shakiness in her voice. "Just…try to get some rest…We can talk about it tomorrow."
He rested his chin on her head. "Rest," he murmured. "Sleep…"
Alex pulled the covers over them. She was again on the edge of sleep when Bobby softly rumbled, "Thank you, Alex…Thank you."
End Chapter One