Disclaimer: I don't own them…

A/N: Something that came to me. Ever notice that Alex's address changes between the Blind Spot and Lady's Man…sounds like it's a bittersweet moving day for our favorite detective.

Doors

I know it's a typical dream for a girl to have, but I've always wanted my own house. When I was little, and I mean really little, I use to dream of mansions and castles, horse farms and tennis courts. My father told me to get my head out of the clouds. Because we were from Inwood, and people from Inwood did NOT live in mansions.

So when Joe and I came upon this old, beaten down house near the pier in Rockaway, my heart skipped a beat. It was being used as a cultivation plant for certain…herbs. Okay so we found this little shed under less that romantic circumstances, but I didn't care. This dream of a house became so real I could almost taste it. It wasn't too flashy, or fancy, but it was charming. Of course my fiancé thought I was crazy, but I was persuasive. And it didn't hurt that it was near free.

Three weeks later we said our vows, and he carried me over the dusty threshold. Our honeymoon turned out to be a home economics project, but we didn't object. Each other's company was all we needed. This sounds cliché, but we literally put out blood, sweat, and tears into this little place. And we were proud of the results.

It became part of us, part of our recent past and expanding future. I started to dream of children…maybe even a dog. We became the hot spot for our group of friends, and our doors were always open. We knew all of the neighbors on our block and than some. And we were happy, so genuinely happy it was sickening. We had made our house a home. Joe and I were on our way to becoming the typical American family, and I didn't have a problem with that.

But than I blinked.

All the sudden twelve years had passed since the day he carried me over that threshold. The house was empty in a way I had only seen once. But it was different this time. I became all too aware of the scratches and dings. All of them had stories. Stories only I knew, because Joseph was gone.

"You ready?" I heard a voice come from behind me. I wasn't ready, but I never was going to be. Because I was closing the door on more than a firm structure and dry wall.

"I loved this house." I whispered. I didn't love it anymore. When Joe died, people stopped coming around, all my neighbors moved away, and all my dreams of a family were six feet under. It got…complicated.

And than Gage happened. She had been IN my little home. That sure put a damper on everything. I shuttered.

I couldn't live here anymore, as much as I wanted to pretend that I could. And it wasn't Gage's entire fault, although I wanted to blame her. She just made it happen sooner rather than later.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Sometimes one door has to close, before another one can open." I took a deep breath, and turned around to my future. Because Bobby always knew what to say. Because sometimes, dreams can change.