The set-up: The LOCI characters are not mine. The OCs are mine, like Bobby's friend Lucy Jones. This builds on prior work. I posted this first chapter as the last chapter of "A Bedtime Verse." Chapters 2 onward are new to this story strand. In first person point of view, from Lucy Jones.

If you are a new reader, this is a story about friends slipping the line.

And so it goes, by Billy Joel

In every heart there is a room… A sanctuary safe and strong… To heal the wounds from lovers past… Until a new one comes along

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I stood outside Bobby's apartment door about to knock when I realized I had his key in my pocket. I had called Eames about an hour ago to check in. Bobby had been in an accident and was home with 3 broken ribs and whole lot of pain (and pain medication). Eames had stopped by to stay with him a while that morning, but she had been called into work. On the phone with me she was making little sense. It was clear she was caught up in something. She seemed surprised to hear from me, mumbling something about my being in California. I was not in California, I tried to explain, I had met Emil Skoda but he was in New York. I figured she had somehow misunderstood what I had said, or that I hadn't been specific when I left saying I was going to see Emil.

I could see that I probably hadn't been very clear with Alex. I had been up most of the night, thinking. I was involved with Emil Skoda, we were to be married in the fall. But, I needed to talk with Emil about how I was feeling. Or perhaps, I was more curious about his feelings. He had pointed out that I tended to process things without ever talking about them, and then I would come to him with some forgone conclusion. He said that was a bit unfair, that if I wanted him to share his life with me, I needed to share myself with him. And he was right. I did need to talk with him. Not everyone could read my mind like Bobby seemed to usually be able to do.

Brunch had gone completely unexpectedly. I had thought to talk with Emil about love, about what he felt, how he knew he loved me. I wanted to see if his heart fluttered or his heart stood still. I wondered if he thought that way, if he thought about how his heart felt.

Instead he asked me to move to California with him. He was enjoying his job, and I sensed that there was somehow a bit of celebrity about it, that he was building a respectable reputation in some rather high powered circles. Not to mention, he actually seemed to love the weather in LA, which was in stark contrast to the current slushy grey weather in New York.

"What?" My voice was barely a croak, but I managed to say the word.

"Move to California." Emil asked, or rather stated.

"Does this mean you are thinking about not returning to New York?" I evaded his question, and I watched his brow furrow into a bit of a scowl. I had not immediately jumped at the idea of moving to California. I could not imagine moving away from the east coast, I could not imagine moving away from my home, my family, my friends, my life. My conversation about how I felt, about how he felt, suddently felt a bit out place.

"I didn't say that." He hedged, and I almost said, yes you did. I knew that was what was going on, why else would he ask me to move to California.

"You like it, California." I said, trying to take a breath, trying to understand.

"Yes, yes I do." He replied, his eyes never leaving mine. I looked at him for a long moment, and I realized that he had done what he accused me of doing. He had thought something through, he had thought it all of the way through without every speaking to me about it. He was going to stay in California. I knew him, I knew his expressions, his tone.

"You're staying in California, you extended your contract, your obligation." I stated, not as a question. "And now, after the fact, you are asking me to move." My hands were starting to shake so I took them from the top of the table and set them in my lap. He didn't respond, but I did see him shift slightly, as if trying to decide how to respond. "Don't, don't say anything." I said, I stood. "I came to ask you how you felt about me, how you felt in your heart, you know, does your heart flutter, does it stand still, does it do anything when you think of me…" I could hear my voice increase in volume a bit. I placed my napkin on the table. I could see he was surprised by, what for me, was a bit of an outburst. I usually processed internally, but not this time, this time I was feeling it for the first time, thinking it for the first time. I placed the engagement ring on top of the napkin. "You must think I'm so silly." My voice broke, I had tears in my eyes. "I'm not moving to California." I stated what had to be obvious.

"Lucy…" He stood, saying my name, but not knowing what to say.

"You just made a long term commitment, and you never even brought it up to me, you never even let me know you were considering it. Don't Lucy me." And, I surprised myself by getting angry. I could tell he was completely taken off guard."Don't Lucy me." I repeated, meaning don't you dare tell me you love me, and I had turned and walked away.

A few hours passed by where I literally was just sitting at a table in my favorite coffee shop, not really drinking my favorite hot tea, not really reading the paper on the table in front of me, not really even watching all of the people walking by on the sidewalk. I guess I was just kind of sitting there stunned. I don't know what made me look at my watch, but when I did, I returned to earth, and realized I had said I would check in with Alex Eames.

When I had called Alex, she had said she had been trying Bobby for the past 30 minutes and he wasn't answering. She figured he was probably asleep, and she would go by his place to check on him. I told her not to worry about it, I could easily go by, I wasn't in California, in fact, I was in New York and my evening was wide open.

So, I found myself standing in the hall, wondering if I should let myself in with the key. I ended up knocking, and then letting myself in.

"Bobby." I said his name, letting him know I had let myself in. His apartment was dark, but I could see the flicker of his television set. I walked toward the family room, expecting to see him on the sofa, but instead he was reclined in a chair, his feet up on an ottoman, the afghan over his legs. I could tell he had showered, and even shaved. I was surprised that he had shaved into a goatee. It was actually kind of handsome, giving his face new angles.

"That was fast." He said, taking me aback a bit.

"What was fast?" I asked, my head still spinning from my day. I thought his head was probably spinning from his meds. His eyes looked tired, a little out of focus.

"California." He said, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose.

"I wasn't in California." I replied, sitting down on the ottoman near his feet. I could see a look of confusion enter his expression.

"Eames said you were with Skoda." He said, looking at me.

"Yeah, but not in California." I offered, wanting to talk with Bobby but not knowing how.

"Why are you here?" He asked, he sounded odd, his tone was odd.

"You didn't answer your phone when Alex called, I told her I would come by to check on you."

"Well, check me off your list." He said, snidely. I leaned in a little, trying to follow him, his mood, his tone.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked. In the time I had known him, in as many times as I had seen him practically falling down drunk, I had never really asked the question quite like that.

"Why?" He asked, his non-answer was really an answer for me.

"Why?" I stood, my emotions overwhelming me. "You were just hit by a car, you could've been killed, you have several cracked ribs, not to mention you're on prescription pain medication. Did you chase that down with a drink?" I asked, then I directly followed with "don't, don't answer that." I held my hand out, I could see it shaking, I was shaking. "Oh my god." I whispered, I placed my palm on my forehead, looking at him. I moved my hand to place it over my chest, over my heart. "Oh my god." I whispered again, my heart, it was still, it was breaking, but it was still.

"You should go." He said, looking away from me.

"I should, I should go." I said, knowing he couldn't push any harder for me to go, but I couldn't seem to go.

"I don't need you." He said, he winced as he moved, against the pain in his ribs, so he wasn't as numb as he could have been. And maybe what he meant was that he didn't need me there, right then, or he didn't need me to stay again tonight, but that wasn't what he said, and I was so tired I couldn't really guess at what he meant. All I could think was – but I need you - but that wasn't what I said.

"I'm going to go." I said, and I turned, and practically ran out of his apartment.

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A/N: So much angst, so little time. This will follow along to Billy Joel's most awesome song "And So It Goes" :) Thanks for all of your support.