Breathe

The muscles in her neck and shoulders were like a brick wall. Eames' eyes darted back and forth, scanning the darkness for anything out of the ordinary. Her ears were searching the night sounds, but all she heard were the typical noises of her neighborhood: a few cars on the road, Mr. Kretchgie's television blaring through his cracked window, the baby crying at the duplex next door.

Breathe, Alex told herself. She stepped into her apartment and took a few gulps of air, finally letting her body sag against the open door until it slid into place and latched. Breathe, she said again.

That's when she realized she was trembling. Alex flipped on the living room light, closed the deadbolt on the door and slid down to the floor. She put her shaking hands against her face and sobbed.

Bobby smiled at her. It was that same huge smile he seemed to have every time she saw him lately. The one he'd had on at the hospital, the one he had every morning when she'd returned to work.

Alex gave him a small smile of her own.

"I gotcha a coffee," he said quietly, nodding his head at the cup on her desk.

"Thanks, Bobby," she said quietly.

"Sleep okay?"

Her smile faded and she shrugged. Her left should still didn't move as easily as her right, and Bobby notice the lopsidedness of the movement. "I guess," she replied.

"You saw Olivet when, Monday?"

Alex knew he only asked because he cared, but it bothered her that he knew so much about her personal life. She mashed her lips together and pretended she hadn't heard the question.

"Eames?" he persisted.

"Uh, no," she said sharply. "I, uh, rescheduled this week."

"R-rescheduled? For when?"

She raised her head and gave him a look of disapproval. Bobby didn't back down. "You know, Bobby, I don't really think you need to be worried with the details, okay?"

"You're not quitting, right?" he asked suddenly.

Of course, Eames thought, it has to be about him. If I quit therapy, I won't get cleared beyond desk duty, and then Bobby will get assigned a new partner—"

"Alex?" his quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up into his eyes and realized that voice wasn't doing her any favors. "Uh, I just decided to skip a week. I go back next Monday," she said.

"Why would you skip?" he asked, and again she saw only concern in his eyes.

Breathe, Alex said to herself. She drew in the air, held it, then let it go slowly. "I gotta guage for myself once in a while… if it's working."

He didn't respond right away, but he stared at her.. looked right through her, really. "Is it? Working?"

Alex suddenly had to gulp back tears. She swallowed hard and turned her head away, trying to hide behind a lock of hair that fell in her face.

"C'mon," he was suddenly saying in her ear. "Let's get some air."

The tips of two fingers toughed her elbow, and Alex found herself walking beside him out of the squad room. She rubbed her eyes wearily in the elevator, and by the time they made it outside she supposed he hadn't noticed the tears.

The morning air was still cool, and Alex was surprised at how much better it made her feel. They walked a block or so, and she finally made eye contact with him.

He didn't pressure her. He looked away a few times, but his eyes always returned to hers.

"I keep having these… panic attacks, I guess," she admitted. "Especially after dark."

He scratched the back of his head, nodding, considering what she'd said. "You told Olivet about them?"

Alex almost chuckled. Instead, she nodded. "Yeah."

"What was her advice?"

"To breathe." He didn't respond right away, and Alex wondered if he'd heard her. She turned her head and looked up at him.

Bobby had heard. His gaze was full of something… sadness, she supposed. In an unusual gesture, he reached his arm out and wrapped it around her shoulder. Bobby squeezed her for a moment, then let her go. "Breathe," he whispered, and took a deep breath himself, trying it out.

The two detectives stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the morning pedestrians hurrying to work.

They had already said it all, anyway, in the first week after she'd been released from the hospital.

It's not your fault, Bobby.

I'm here for you, Eames.

Knowing that didn't make it any easier for either of them.

After a time, Eames tapped her petite hand, twice, against Bobby's bicep. Without a word, they turned and walked back to 1PP, to Major Case, to their future.

Breathe.