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A/N: A great BIG "Thank You" to all my reviewers and readers.

I wrote this as an alternative ending to Finding My Son, Finding Myself, and dedicate it to Bammi1 –who voted for the "mixed" ending. Although I know from your review that you were happy with the story the way it was, this idea has been in my head for a week, so I figured I'd write it and give you your way ;-)

And as always, none of the LO:CI characters are mine, but I think Mr. Wolf for sharing.

Finding My Son, Finding Myself - Alternative Ending

Chapter 15

Bobby felt the warmth of the morning sun on his face. He awakened slowly, relishing the memories of the previous evening – his wedding and reception had been perfect. His eyelids were heavy with sleepiness – he felt groggy. "Must've had more to drink last night than I realized," he thought to himself. He kept them closed and squinted harder to block out the brightness in the room. "Another sunny day," he thought. "Every day since I got here to Puerto Rico has been perfect – sunny and warm." He felt the warmth of her hand on his arm. They always managed to be touching somehow, even while they slept. Turning his head away from the window, he forced his eyes open, battling against the light. "Man, no more champagne for me, I'm stickin' to scotch –this is a wicked hangover," he swore to himself.

His eyes finally opened –they fluttered; it was hard to keep them open —hard to focus. The warm hand on his arm moved to his shoulder.

"Bobby? Bobby, wake up...c'mon."

He tried harder, finally forcing his eyes open. James Deakins was standing at the side of the bed.

"Hey, you finally awake?"

Bobby looked at him, not understanding. What the fuck was the Captain doing in his bedroom.

"C'mon Bobby, say my name. Do you know who I am?"

"Ca-captain."

"That's right. Boy, you've been givin' us quite a scare...you've been 'out' for four days."

Bobby's eyes shifted, surveying the bedroom. Everything was white. "Our bedroom isn't white," he mumbled, almost drifting back to unconsciousness. He thought he was dreaming. He could still smell the beautiful, sweet aromas of all the flowers in Rosa's garden– right outside their bedroom window. "Maria must've left the window open," he convinced himself.

"C'mon Bobby, stay awake." It was Deakins' voice again, and his hand tapping Bobby's cheek.

His eyes opened. "Where..."

"Bobby, you're in the hospital. You've been here since Friday night. Do you remember Friday night?"

Reality was now mixing with dreams and memories. His heart started beating faster with the growing panic and anxiety he felt.

"Bobby, you saved Cathy's life. Do you remember — anything from Friday night? I don't know how I can ever repay you."

Bobby tried to swallow – he didn't have enough saliva; his lips and mouth and throat were so dry. Deakins took a few ice chips from the cup near the bed and slowly placed them in Bobby's mouth.

"I hate to think what would've happened it you hadn't been there. You shielded her from Vasquez' bullet."

Bobby stared straight up at the ceiling. The events of Friday night were rushing back. The sadness was overwhelming him – it had all been a dream – none of it was real. No Maria Elena, no Roberto, no wedding. He was back to the reality of being Bobby Goren. Alone. A tear rolled from the corner of his eye onto the pillow.

"Don't be upset, Bobby. Cathy's all right — and you're gonna' be all right."

Bobby shook his head, 'no,' –Deakins didn't know what he meant.

"When Sanchez fired his shot and hit Vazquez, the force of the shot jolted his body – his arm flew up and his gun went off. You had thrown yourself on top of Cathy to protect her – the bullet just grazed the back of your head — but that's not what hurt you, that's not why you're here."

Bobby was only half listening to the Captain's story, still lost in the memories of his wonderful dream. He wished he could go back to sleep and make it all real again.

"You knocked Cathy down so fast – with so much force, and when you went down, you hit your head on the hard marble floor in the bank — right by your temple– it's a dangerous spot. You've been in and out of consciousness since Friday. You have a bad concussion."

Bobby let out long sigh – it was tired and mournful. He turned his head towards the window, so the Captain couldn't see the new accumulation of tears that rolled down his cheek.

Deakins placed a reassuring hand on Bobby's shoulder. "I'm gonna' tell the doctor that you're awake – and there's a little lady who's gonna' be very happy to see you've come around. She just left your side for the first time in days — went to get some coffee."

The Captain headed for the door. Bobby wiped his face with the sheet once Deakins was gone; he didn't want Alex to see his tears.

He sighed again. His head hurt, but his heart hurt much worse. "Alex. Good ole reliable Eames. At least I still have her," he comforted himself.

He was staring at the dozen vases and baskets of flowers on the window sill — 'get well' wishes from Alex and the guys in the squad. He was looking at a plane fly over, wondering the destination it was en route to. He heard the noise of the hallway when the door to his room opened. "Eames," he thought to himself. "A friendly pretty face, at least." He turned, forcing himself to smile as he greeted her.

"Bobby?"

He bolted upright, causing a wave of dizziness in his head — nausea in his stomach. "Maria." His mouth said the word, but there was no voice.

"Shhh, shhhh, lay back, you have to take it easy," she said with a smile.

Had he fallen back asleep? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Should he let his heart dare to believe that she was really there? He laid back on the pillow, looking up at her with disbelief. Her hand gently ran through his hair and caressed his cheek.

"I've been here since Saturday afternoon. The police contacted us – umm, a Detective Morris, he said he worked with you — and then we saw it on the news at home — we flew up –for Mom and Dad to claim Benjamin's body — and when they said on the news that you had been injured...that you and that other cop saved some woman's life. Oh, Bobby..."

"I dreamt about you."

"Awww, you poor baby. How do you feel? Do you want anything?"

He shook his head, "no." I dreamt about you an-an-and – we had a son named Roberto." He felt almost ridiculous at the confession.

She smiled and held his cheek. "Mom and Dad didn't think it was healthy for him to sit here all day and night waiting for you to wake up so he could meet his Daddy. They've been taking him sightseeing – he's so excited to finally see the big City."

Bobby looked at her, confusion on his face – still not allowing himself to believe this as reality. He didn't trust his mind – "Maybe it's this head injury messin' me up," he wondered to himself.

"He was here to visit. We talked to you for hours. The doctors said that people in comas or who are unconscious can sometimes hear what's going on around them. He told you all about his school and his camp out last week – he even asked if you'd buy him a new bike," she laughed.

Now it was making more sense. All those things – their power of suggestion did somehow seep in – forming the direction his dream had been taking.

"I know this is all new to you. We have so much to talk about Bobby — I have so much to explain to you."

"No, no –you, you don't."

"Would it sound too crazy to tell you I've been wanting you all these years?"

"It, it doesn't sound crazy at all — I-I've never stopped wanting you."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Is there still hope for us?"

Bobby's heart leapt. He'd just gone from despair and depression to hope and a rekindling of love in the past two minutes.

"I never gave up hope."

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Everything had been perfect in Bobby's dream. But real life has its ups and downs and he and Maria Elena would struggle through them — and win. He was happy over the following months; their romance had picked up just as it had left off – and the role of "Dad" thrilled him to no end. There was only one other thing that could now make his life even more wonderful — but little Alexandra Rose Goren wasn't here.

Yet.

THE END