Alex POV

"Then you're going to have to trust me, Eames."

That's what he said to me.

As though that weren't precisely what I'd been doing for the past five years.

Trusting his unpopular opinions and his obscure theories.

Trusting him.

And was it because I was in love with him?

Maybe. I'll admit it to myself even if not to him.

I'd loved him beyond all reason for the better part of the past three years.

So yes, I trusted him.

But I didn't like it.

I didn't like that he suddenly felt the need to hide from me, to go it alone. Whatever this truth was that he was seeking…we should be uncovering it together.

So yeah, it hurt that he left me behind.

It hurt more than just a little.

But I pushed aside my feelings of hurt and continued to work the case.

This case.

My stomach turned just thinking about it.

We'd been digging through the life and times of Mark Ford Brady for more than a week in an effort to find a conclusion for so many women whose fates were unknown. I mean, they were known. But yet the families had never received proper closure. They'd never been able to offer a proper burial because the bodies had remained hidden.

It was the least we could do.

But this case couldn't have come at a worse time.

Bobby was going through a rough time with his mother. She'd finally chosen to end treatment and her days were numbered just as surely as those of Brady.

A few days ago, he'd told me shyly that his mom wanted to meet me. Even if I weren't head over heels in love with him, it would've been nearly impossible to resist his boyish smile.

So I went, at the first possible opportunity.

And what did she do when Bobby introduced me? She sent him on an errand.

"Please, Bobby, I need that book. I left it in the sun room, I know I did. Please go get it."

"But Ma…"

"Be a good boy, will you?"

So he'd left, but not before casting me an apologetic glance. At first I wasn't sure what he was so worried about.

But as soon as the door closed behind him, she settled her piercing gaze onto mine.

"I thought you'd be taller," she said as if she had something foul-tasting in her mouth.

"So did I," I replied. I sat down in the chair next to the bed. "But for some reason, I quit growing."

"Oh, a smart one, are you? Is that why you like my Bobby? You know, he was always too smart for his other girlfriends."

I ignored the flash of jealousy that went through me at the mention of other girlfriends.

Of course he'd had other girlfriends. The man was in his forties.

"I'm not his girlfriend, Mrs. Goren," I corrected. "I'm his partner."

"So he says," she replied with a dismissive wave. "But you're not married."

"No."

"And you spend all of your time together."

"Well, yes."

"So what are you waiting for? You think he's not good enough for you?"

"No, it's not that," I said quickly.

"So what, then? You think you have all the time in the world? You're not a young lady, you know."

I couldn't stop the chuckle at her insistence and her blunt observation, but I wasn't offended. I could appreciate her point.

What are you waiting for, Alex?

Bobby burst into the room, a slight sheen of sweat covering his brow. He must've sprinted across the hospital to the sun room, but to his credit, he held the coveted book in his hand.

"Everything okay, Ma?" he asked her as he looked uncertainly back and forth between his mother and me.

"Okay? Why wouldn't it be? You think I can't handle being alone with your partner for five minutes?"

But as she chastised him, she gave me a wink.

And I had the sudden terrifying, exhilarating, horrifying revelation that she knew. She knew my secret.

And maybe I was reading way too much into it, but I almost got the feeling that she approved.

"I'll give you two some time alone," I offered as I got up from the chair. "It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Goren."

But she'd already mentally dismissed me and my fantasy of having made some sort of connection with her was shattered.

Had I completely imagined her pointed look?

Her wink?

"Bobby, where's Frank?" I heard her ask as I slipped out of the door.

And at her words, my heart broke for Bobby.

His mother always asked for Frank even though Bobby was the one who took care of her. The one who was going broke paying her medical bills. The one who had put his job on the line just to try to make her happy.

And yet she wanted Frank.

I'd waited in the sitting room for an hour before he finally came out, looking drawn and tired.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately.

"For what?" I asked as I fell into step beside him.

"This. Her. Everything."

"Hey," I said as I stopped in the hall. I touched him on the arm to get him to look at me. I didn't often touch him, but when I did, I felt that heat run through me as though he were on fire.

And as his weary eyes met mine, I struggled to find the right words to say. I wasn't sure what they were, or if they even existed.

So instead, I relied upon our usual form of communication.

I just held his gaze and gave him a slight nod while unspoken thoughts rolled through my brain.

I'm sorry this is so hard for you.

I wish I'd come sooner.

I love you.

That last forbidden thought forced me to break contact, both visual and physical, and together we continued down the hall.

"Was she…okay with you?" he asked me hesitantly once we were finally in the car.

"She wanted to know why I'm so short," I said, hoping to pull a smile from him.

I did.

We went back to work, and made more progress on the case.

The next day, I went with him to visit his mother again.

After having seen first hand how he looked upon leaving her room, I didn't want him to do it alone. Not if I could help it, anyway.

And when I suggested that I go with him, he didn't argue.

Or at least, not much.

"Eames, you don't have to."

"I didn't think that I did."

"It's just…she's just…" he began, and then he trailed off and expelled a heavy sigh. "She has the wrong idea."

"About us?" I asked, making sure to keep the amusement off of my face. "I know. It's okay."

"It's okay?" he asked, looking at me in confusion.

"Unless it bothers you…"

"No," he said quickly. "No, it doesn't bother me."

Then he fell into silence as I drove us to the hospital.

The visit went nearly the same as the day before. Upon arrival, she sent Bobby out for a soda.

He left reluctantly, and once he was gone, I steeled myself for the verbal volley.

"You didn't tell me that you're a widow."

Ah, she must have asked Bobby after yesterday's visit. Which meant that they'd talked about me.

I was both curious and embarrassed by that prospect.

"You didn't ask. You asked if I was married. I'm not."

"But you were."

"I was."

"Why are you a cop?"

"I'm good at it."

"Isn't that a man's job?"

"You don't believe that," I challenged.

"How do you know what I believe?"

"Because of how you raised your son."

My response silenced her, and for a moment, I thought that she was going to cry.

Hell, I thought that I was going to cry.

She just held my gaze, and her eyes softened and filled with tears.

But none fell. On her or on me.

And then Bobby came back.

I left the two of them alone and once again went out to wait for him. This time, when he came out, he didn't apologize.

"Thank you," he said quietly as we made our way to the car.

"You're welcome."

We drove back to work without another word.

We were making progress with the case, and I thought that I was making progress with Bobby.

And it wasn't that I was building up to some grand confession of love. I just wanted him to know that he didn't have to be alone. That he had people who cared about him, people he could lean on.

But then we found the book from the sixties, and his mood began to darken.

Something was off. Something had been off with him since the case began, but I'd attributed it solely to his mother's declining health.

But it wasn't just that.

The next day, he visited his mother alone.

When he came back to work, he was sure that his mother was somehow involved, had potentially been involved with Brady.

It was nearly painful to watch him unload on Ross, although the captain had pushed it.

He never seemed to know quite how to handle Bobby, so he tended to either set him off, or look blankly to me for help.

This time he set him off, and it was up to me to buy Bobby a few more days on the case.

"Is he getting any sleep at all?" Ross asked me.

How in the world did he think that I'd know the answer to that one?

But it wasn't the time to call him out on his inane question.

Instead, I promised to look after him. Promised to tell Ross if I thought that Bobby was getting too close.

And yeah, that would happen. The day I ratted out my partner to Ross would be the day I turned in my shield.

But Ross bought it.

The next day, Bobby visited his mother, again without me. And he had lunch with Frank.

And then came the real kicker.

He wanted to go talk to Brady without me. That's when the whole trust thing came into play.

"Bobby, come on…I'm your partner," I reminded him, nearly pleading for him not to go off without me.

"Then you have to trust me, Eames," he said softly, staring at me, silently begging for me to acquiesce.

Because as hard-headed as Bobby is, I don't doubt for a second that if I'd have pushed it, he would've relented.

He wanted to do it alone, but with my consent.

And how much would it mean to him at this point to have me blindly trust him?

To say, yeah, okay Bobby, you go do what you have to do and I'll batten down the hatches for you.

It had to mean a lot. So I stepped aside, and let him pass.

I didn't see him again that day.

The next day, I came into work, but he went straight to the hospital. He called to tell me where he was going, but made no mention of what had happened yesterday.

And then a couple of hours later, I got another call.

His mom had died.

I wished that I could've been there with him. Not while he was watching over his mother as she took her last breath, but for afterwards.

And really, I could be there. I would be there.

So I went to see Ross to let him know that I'd be leaving, and he showed me Brady's confession, complete with details of every victim.

I flipped through it, my interest waning as my need to be with Bobby increased. I finished up as quickly as I could and then I drove to the hospital.

I didn't know what kind of reception I'd get since I hadn't told Bobby that I was coming, but the bottom line was that he needed a friend. And I liked to give myself the title of his best friend.

The one who knew him better than anyone else.

So as I got out of the car and crossed the parking lot, I shoved down my nerves.

This is for Bobby. Even if he doesn't act happy to see me, at some point he'll appreciate my presence.

I got off of the elevator and turned the corner and there he was.

His jacket and tie were gone, his shirt was open at the neck, and his face was ravaged with grief.

He did a double-take when he saw me, as though he thought at first that I was a figment of his imagination.

And then he slowly walked up to me and held out his arms in a gesture of helplessness, seemingly unable to form words.

I didn't think, and I didn't hesitate.

I hugged him.

At first he felt stiff, as though my action was unexpected.

And I guess that it was. We'd never hugged before.

But I knew the moment that he made the decision to let go.

He sagged against me and just held on.

Two days later, I sat closely beside him as he buried his mother. I was happy to see that he had other friends, people who came to pay their respects.

But Frank was conspicuously absent.

During the course of those two days, Bobby and I had talked a little about her passing, but I had a feeling that the flood was yet to come.

But for all of my wisdom, I was still caught off guard when it actually came.

It was three a.m.

Actually, three-oh-three and I know this because I was lying in bed watching the clock tick off the minutes.

For some reason, sleep was eluding me.

Some reason. Huh.

I hadn't talked to Bobby all day, and I was more than a little concerned.

I'd been riding a desk since the day Frances Goren died while Bobby took a month's worth of personal leave.

At Ross' insistence, of course.

And currently, Bobby was only a week in. I had a feeling that the next three weeks were going to be the longest of my life.

But so I was watching the clock when I heard it.

A knock so soft that at first I thought that I'd imagined it.

And then I heard it again.

Only one person would be at my door in the middle of the night.

One person who would arrive, and yet knock in a manner so as not to wake me.

I got out of bed quickly and for the sake of propriety, I threw a sweatshirt on over my tank top.

Then I hurried to the door and without even checking through the peephole, I opened it up.

There stood Bobby, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with an unbuttoned flannel shirt over it.

We looked at each other for a long minute.

I'm sure that he was nervous about showing up, and I was…elated that he'd come to me, thrilled about the possibility that he was going to let me in and yet afraid that I would somehow let him down.

"Are you…am I…can we talk?" he asked at last.

I stepped back from the door and opened it fully to allow him entrance as I replied.

"Always."

TBC...