I promise to return to SAVING GRACES. Right now I'm plagued by plot bunnies, and I feed my plot bunnies, probably too much. Spoilers for AMENDS.

AMENDS: MISSING SCENES 2

Chapter One

He watched her closely as they processed the young doctor. Her face was a tightly controlled mask that betrayed little of her inner turmoil. Bobby didn't know if he was aware of that turmoil because he knew Alex so well or because he knew so much about controlling inner turmoil. As Bobby stopped by his desk to pick up several forms, Ross stopped him.

"How is she?" the Captain asked, his eyes on Alex.

"She's doing…well…remarkably well," Bobby answered. "She's been absolutely professional about everything.

"Good," Ross said.

"Captain…thank you…I know you could've…should've…taken her off this case," Bobby said softly. "Thank you…for both of us…"

"The Chief of D's," Ross said deliberately. "Wants me to convey his apologies. He was very upset when we met in my office. "

Bobby held his tongue. He wasn't going to forgive the Chief for calling him a whack job in front of Kevin Quinn's widow and son, but he didn't feel the need to reveal that to Ross.

"You saved the Department from another rush to judgment, Goren…And as far as I'm concerned, Patrick Copa was a bad cop," Ross continued. The captain studied Bobby. "How are you doing?"

"Ok…It felt good to be back at work." Bobby told the truth. Work, and worrying about Alex, had helped him to forget, at least for a short time, his own troubles.

"I appreciate you coming in," Ross said. "But remember…You still have the rest of your leave if you want it."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir." Bobby was focused on Alex. "But I think Eames may need more the time off more than me after this case."

Ross' gaze followed Bobby's. "Tell her she has the time if she needs it."

Bobby nodded. "I will."

Manny Beltran was pathetically eager to confess to Joe Dutton's murder. Bobby urged him to wait for a lawyer, although Alex appeared to want to get everything over with as soon as possible. Bobby didn't begrudge Alex her attitude. "After all, he didn't kill the person I loved," Bobby thought. "Not that I've ever loved anyone the way Alex loved Joe…or have ever been loved like that…" Fortunately, it didn't take long to process Beltran. He remained cooperative even after his lawyer arrived and advised him not to make a statement.

"I'll see he gets back to his cell," Bobby said quietly after Beltran formally confessed.

Alex gathered up the paperwork. As she had throughout Beltran's processing and questioning, she pointedly avoided any eye contact with the anguished man. "Ok," she said. "I'll get the paperwork started."

After she left, Beltran, still wearing his scrubs and handcuffed to the table, shivered. "What's going to happen to me? When will I go to prison?"

"You'll be at Riker's for a while," Bobby said. He studied Beltran carefully. The last thing the department needed in this case was a suicide, and Bobby couldn't quite read Beltran's mood. The doctor had become very quiet after his outburst of guilt and grief, and Bobby was unsure if Beltran's apparent acceptance of his fate was resignation or a sign of ominous plans.

"Do you think they'll let me work in the prison infirmary?" Beltran asked. "My lawyer…She says I won't get the death penalty…" Beltran looked stricken. "No one else died because I…"

"No," Bobby said, carefully weighing how much he should tell Beltran.

"But someone…is in jail…"

"Yes," Bobby admitted.

"I…I didn't know…I was on the plane the next morning." Beltran put his head in his hands. "I should've checked…when I got back in the city…" He looked up at Bobby. "Did the cop have a family?"

Bobby stared down at the table where his index finger made small, tight circles. "He came from a big family…lots of brothers and sisters…and…he was married…" Bobby turned away from Beltran.

"Oh, God." Beltran was on the edge of tears. "I wish…I wish…I know it seems so small…so weak…that it wouldn't help…But I wish I could tell them how sorry I am…"

Silence descended in the room, broken only by Beltran's increasingly unsuccessful efforts to control his emotions.

"Prison infirmaries," Bobby finally said. "Are notoriously understaffed and always need help…You'll have to earn the privilege…But I think one would welcome your help…"

Beltran raised his head. "I want to try…try to salvage something out of this."

"Yes." Bobby returned to making circles on the table. "You've got a good start on that."

The uniforms arrived to return Beltran to his cell; his lawyer spoke briefly with him before they took him away. As Bobby gathered his binder and left the interrogation room, the lawyer approached him.

"Thank you for whatever you said to him," she said. "I was worried about him…but I think he'll be ok now."

Bobby stared at his feet. "It you want…We can put him on a watch…We want to keep him safe…"

"I'd appreciate that," the lawyer said.

Bobby walked into the bullpen and saw Alex lost in the paperwork. He sensed that about half of the eyes in Major Case were focused on Alex and the other half on him. He sat at his desk and called Riker's to ask for a suicide watch for Beltran. "If you give me some of that," he said when he finished the call. "I'll help…and when we get out of here I'll buy you a margarita."

Alex handed over a pile of forms. "Most of these just need your signature," she said. "Not that anyone can read it. And I suspect I'll want more than just one margarita."

Ross approached their desks. "The Chief of Detectives," he said in a loud voice. "Wants me to convey his apologies to you, Goren." Bobby, puzzled, looked up at Ross, not certain why his captain repeated this information and in the middle of the squad room. He realized that Ross wanted to be overheard. "He appreciates that you came in from your leave and found the killer so quickly."

"But he still thinks I'm a "whack job"," Bobby said wryly and softly.

"There should be more whack jobs like you," Alex said without looking up from the form she was dealing with. "Then we wouldn't have nine-year-old messes to clean up." Like Ross, Alex spoke loudly enough to be heard by several desks.

"I appreciate the Chief's apology," Bobby said diplomatically. He spoke in his usual low, soft voice and saw several cops lean forward to try to hear him.

Ross nodded. "I'll let the Chief know."

"Captain," Bobby said as Ross started to leave. "Thank you for your support with the Chief." Bobby thought that if Ross was willing to let the squad room know the Chief had apologized to Bobby, he could at least let the squad room know Ross had supported his detectives.

"Not a problem, Detective," Ross said after a moment. "Especially when you were completely right."

Bobby and Alex returned to their paperwork. Bobby occasionally chanced a quiet look at Alex. Every time he glanced at her, Alex was intently focused on her work.

"You know," Alex finally said after an hour or so. "If you'd stop looking at me and keep working we'd get out of here a lot faster."

"Caught," Bobby said sheepishly. "I…I'm just…"

"It's ok, Bobby," Alex said. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm ok."

They continued to work until Ross emerged from his office. "I'm leaving," he announced wearily. "And I suggest you two do the same. As a matter of fact, I order you both to leave. You can finish tomorrow. The DA won't be ready to process Beltran until then." Ross paused. "Again…both of you…good work. I know this hasn't made you very popular with some people. "He smiled weakly. "God know I'm pretty unpopular with some people right now too."

"C'mon, Eames," Bobby said gently as Ross walked out of the squad room. "Let's get out of here…Let me get you that margarita."

"Ok." Alex carefully gathered the paperwork, filed it, and joined Bobby as he walked to the elevator.

They were quiet on the elevator and through the lobby. Part of the silence resulted from the presence of others, some of whom gave wary, curious, or even hostile glances at Bobby and Alex. Outside the building, Alex turned to Bobby.

"I don't want to go to any of the places near here," she said abruptly.

Bobby understood. He had no desire to run into any cops, especially cops who might be the worse for drink. "Is there somewhere near your house?"

"That would be an expensive cab ride," Alex replied. "I'm not sure I want to be in good enough shape to drive at the end of this night. Why don't we explore one of your favorite haunts?" It was the most she'd said to him since they'd arrested Beltran.

Bobby waved down a cab. "I really don't have a favorite haunt," he said as he opened the door for her. "But I remember a nice place a couple blocks near my building."

The silence returned during the cab ride, and Bobby wondered if going for a drink with Alex was a serious mistake. She was certainly willing to go with him, but her refusal to speak disturbed him. "But," he thought. "How many times have I sat like a lump in a cab while she got me through some crisis? What does she do?"

They arrived in front of a small pub with glowing lights; it looked friendly and inviting. "I have to warn you," Bobby said as he opened the cab's door for Alex. "I really don't come to this place to drink…I come for the soups and stews…I can't vouch for their margaritas."

"It's nice," Alex said as they entered the bar. "And I've found Irish bars usually know their way around any kind of alcoholic concoction."

They found a quiet booth nested in the back of the bar, and, aside from giving their orders to the waiter, became as silent as they were in the cab. Bobby struggled to find some way to break it.

"Alex," he finally confessed. "I…I don't know how to do this…I want to make everything better for you…but I don't know how…"

"Did you think about that before you reopened Joe's case?" she said harshly, and immediately regretted the words. "I'm sorry…It's just raw…You were right…We have to do our jobs…No matter how much it hurts." She took a long drink.

Bobby felt he'd crossed some line, if he ever knew where it was. "That's not her fault," he thought. "You've been moving them all over the place in the last few months."

"Bobby." Alex's exasperated voice broke in on his thoughts. "Don't beat yourself up. Really, I'm not angry at you…In all of this mess right now, you're the one person I'm not angry at….But if you start doing your Bobby Goren nailed to the cross routine, I'll whap you up the side of the head. And since I can't whap the people I'm really angry at up the side of their heads, it'll really hurt if I have to hit you." She downed her drink's remains and waved for the waiter.

"Ok…I'll try…" He watched as Alex quickly started to drain her second margarita. "Uh…Alex…You're drinking awfully fast…Maybe we should get something to eat…"

Alex glared at him, her exasperation and frustration growing in proportion to the alcohol she consumed. "Look, Bobby," she said coldly. "You know I can handle my liquor. You just take care of yourself." She defiantly finished off her second drink.

Bobby wasn't sure if Alex planned to get drunk when they entered the bar, but she certainly acted as if she did. Worry grew in his mind. He'd never seen Alex really drunk—a little tight, yes, but never blasted. He knew that the Eames' family had several members with bad experiences with liquor, and Alex usually erred on the side of caution. Aside from a few horribly memorable moments when he was a kid or in the Army, Bobby also avoided drinking to excess. He always felt that his family history and experiences might make him too susceptible to alcohol's charms. He didn't try to match Alex drink for drink this evening—for one thing, the expensive Scotch he drank lent itself to sipping rather than the margarita's long drinks—but he drank far more than he planned. Both Alex and Bobby had had little rest or food in recent hours, and both quickly felt the results.

"Alex," Bobby mumbled. He retained at least a touch of sobriety. "We shouldn't drink much more. We have to work tomorrow."

A bleary-eyed Alex looked up at him. "I wanna go home," she slurred and stumbled from the booth.

Bobby threw money on the table and unsteadily followed her. He discovered her wavering on the sidewalk. He was, Bobby thought, slightly more sober than Alex, but in no shape to drive.

"Alex," he carefully enunciated each letter of her name. "I'm not sure how to get you home…"

"Not that home," she said belligerently. "Wanna go to your home."

His mind reeled at the idea at first, but on second consideration Bobby thought taking Alex to his place might be a good thing. They could easily walk to it from the bar, and the cool air and slight exercise might sober both of them up a little. It certainly was safer than allowing either of them near a car and get them both near a bed faster than calling a cab.

"Ok," Bobby said softly. "But I gotta warn you…The place is a mess…I…I haven't had much time to clean it up lately." He reached for her arm to guide her, but Alex jerked away from him.

"I can walk by myself," she said fiercely, and started down the street.

"Uh…Alex…"

She turned and gave him an extremely annoyed look. "What?"

"My apartment." He pointed in the opposite direction. "Is that way."

"Oh…Ok." Alex began to march.

In spite of his much longer legs, Bobby discovered he had to rush to keep up with her. Alex moved with a maniacal speed and determination. He grabbed her arm when she nearly swept past his building.

"Alex…It's here…"

She threw off his touch. "I know that…I've been here before…Not that you let me very often…I've only been here what…two or three times in seven years…"

The rebuke stung and puzzled Bobby. "I…I think you've been here more than that," he said as he fumbled with his keys.

Alex leaned against the building as Bobby unlocked the main entrance. "Not much more…"

"I wasn't aware," Bobby said, hoping his voice didn't betray the hurt he felt. "That you were so interested in visiting my apartment."

"Only because you make it such a mysterious place," Alex replied with an edge to her voice.

As they rode the elevator, Bobby struggled to gage Alex's mood. She seemed to want, even need, his company—after all, she'd insisted on going to his apartment—but she also seemed to be on the edge of verbally attacking him. "She's hurt…She's angry," he thought. "I'm an easy target…And I deserve some…maybe most…of that anger."

"Stop it, Bobby!" Alex said sharply. "Stop analyzing me…" She rushed past him when the elevator door opened and waited impatiently by his door. A baffled Bobby followed her and again fumbled for his keys. Impatience radiated from Alex and that, coupled with the alcohol he'd consumed, caused him to struggle with the lock. He finally managed to open the door, and Alex brushed past him and stumbled quickly into his apartment.

END CHAPTER ONE