Limping Forward

Rat. That was it, in a nutshell, wasn't it? Eames was right, it was all a sell-out. You sold your soul, Bobby. You sold it just to get that damn shield back. And you lost everything that was important in the process.

"If it had been anybody else but me, you would be dead right now."

"Maybe that would have been better," he told himself.


She ran. Alex ran, longer than her usual route, and harder. She ran until her body shivered, and the sweat on her face was suddenly too cold. Alex stopped, hand on her aching side, and bent over. It had worked. She was so focused on the fact that she was about to puke that she forgot to be mad at Bobby completely. Common sense kicked in and she started walking, shakily, back towards home.

She shivered, and kept her eyes focused ahead. Her legs were like rubber. Her forehead pressed against her raised sleeve, and with great effort, she slowed her breathing. When her phone vibrated, tucked against the skin of her side, she jumped in shock.

With shaking hands, Alex took it out and looked at the caller's name. Goren. She desperately wanted to ignore it. She was in no mood to talk to him, especially not today, not now. Then she thought of how she felt when he hadn't answered her calls. And she thought how she might not have seen him again after that. She slowed to a stop and answered the phone.

"Yeah." Her voice was weak under her panting.

There was a long silence before he finally spoke. She rubbed her temples between the thumb and forefinger of her free hand. "I'm sorry," he said, and she thought maybe he was crying.

Her lips were thin and pressed together. "You said that already."

"You didn't hear it." He wasn't crying, but he was upset. "I… It was the only way," he said.

It was her turn to be silent. She tried to regulate her breath, and finally said, "It wasn't. Maybe if you had talked to me, you could have seen that."

"Five months, Eames! M-My savings… is gone. I got a loan, b-but it ran dry…" She heard him sniff. "I didn't ask for this… how could I say no?"

"I could have loaned you money, Bobby. All you had to do was ask."

"No." He was choking again, choking on emotions he barely contained. "You… you don't know."

"I'm sick and tired of you telling me that, Bobby. If I don't know, it's because you never tell me anything!"

Abruptly, his sorrow turned to rage. "Put yourself in my shoes! Just… do that, would you?"

She was quiet. She started walking again, feeling the stiff, angry pain in her muscles with each step. Tears filled her eyes. "What do you want me to say, Bobby? That it's okay?" Her voice betrayed her tears. "Because it's not! I feel betrayed. I don't know what you want from me." Her foot twisted on an uneven crack in the sidewalk and she yelped.

"Alex? Are you okay?"

"Fine, Bobby," she said through gritted teeth. She limped a few steps further.

"No, you're not. I know that tone. Where are you?"

Alex looked around. She sighed. She could think of nothing better than sitting, riding in a car right now. "I'm outside Lehman's book shop."

"Jesus, Alex, you ran that far?" She heard his keys jingle. "I'm coming to get you."


By the time he arrived, it had started to drizzle. Alex sat on the bench outside the store, holding her empty water bottle in her hand and shivering. By God's grace, he parked on the curb right in front of her. Bobby climbed out of the mustang and hurried over to her. He stood in front of her, and stripped off his suit coat.

It held the warmth of his body, and she was grateful. She stood up, feeling as stiff as a mannequin. Bobby's arm stretched around and lifted her by the elbow, his other hand against her bicep. She jerked away from his grasp and almost fell. He caught her, and set her up on her feet again. Then he let go and watched her limp to the passenger door. She pushed the button with her thumb and yanked the door open. He winced when he heard the bottom of the door scrape against the curb. Bobby took the door in his hand and held it while she sat down. Once she was in, he shut the door.

She was rubbing her temples when he got behind the wheel. He reached over and opened the glove compartment. "There's some crackers in there, I think," he said.

She leaned forward and rummaged through the junk. She found a package of saltines. "Water?" she asked. No point eating them with nothing to wash them down. Her mouth was as dry as a sand dune.

"Wait here," he said, and got back out. She watched him jog across the street, bobbing his way through traffic, and disappear inside a small store. He emerged minutes later and jogged his way back. He slid into his seat and handed her an ice cold bottle of juice.

As he started the car, she drank half of it down. She crunched the crackers into dust, opened the bag, and poured them into her mouth. Then she washed them down with another big gulp.

"Better?" he asked, his eyes darting between the road and his partner.

"Thanks," she said.

Then followed the awkward silence. Alex pulled his jacket tighter around her shoulders and tucked her chin down, hiding in the lapels. As miserable as she felt, the scent of him was like an elixir. It had been far, far too long.

"There was a… rat, in my desk drawer," he said. Someway, somehow, it seemed like the thing to say.

"A rat?"

"A dead rat."

"Oh."

He made a left turn, then made a mess of his hair with his palm. "I… I guess I am. I tried to tell Stoat that I was better than that, but…"

"You are better than that, Bobby." She said it without hesitation.

"No, no… you were right. I was just… thinking of myself… trying to… buy… my way back in."

"You were on the right side of it, Bobby. Stoat was a disgrace to the force."

"Still and all… I can see how…"

She sipped down the last of the juice, then felt it lurching back up. "Pull over, Bobby!" she cried.

As quickly as he could, he veered toward the curb. She pushed the door open and puked. He held her by the crook of the arm so she wouldn't fall on her face. After a minute, she straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stretched out a shaky arm and pulled the door shut.

"So much for the crackers," he said, and pulled into the street again.

When they arrived at her place, he matched her slow pace to the door. When she pulled out her keys, he took them out of her hand and opened the door. She walked wearily to the bedroom, too sick to care if he stayed or left.

After several minutes, Bobby poured her a glass of water in the kitchen. He went down the hall and knocked tentatively on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she called.

She had changed into sweats, and was lying on her side on her bed. "I brought you some water," he said. "You might want to go a little…slower this time," he added.

She sat up slowly, leaning on one arm. Then she took the glass from him and sipped. She sighed. "I overdid it."

He nodded his understanding. "I'll get you something to eat," he announced before he left the bedroom. Alex forced herself up out of bed. She paced out to the living room, and spent the next few minutes either walking or stretching her sore legs.

"Soup," he announced, holding a steaming bowl in his hand.

Alex hobbled to the kitchen and sat down at the table. Bobby set the bowl in front of her and got her a fresh glass of water. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so. Just really sore." He stood by her and nodded. "Sit down, Bobby, you're making me nervous."

He did as he was told. "I… uh… I guess I'll be going." He reached up to feel the whiskers that were no longer there. "I'm sorry, Alex. It was stupid, and selfish, and I'm grateful you were the one who-"

"Bobby, if we're going to stay partners," she began, and his heart twisted at the word if, "I have to know that you're not going off on your own anymore. You have to keep me in the loop. I mean," she slurped a spoonful of broth and wiped her mouth. "I mean, I've got your back, have had it all along. Even when you were gone, I was still fighting for you. I've gotta know it's not for nothing."

He swallowed hard. His head bobbed in agreement. "I've been a lousy partner. I don't deserve you."

"Oh, Bobby, I'm not asking you to beat yourself up. Just promise me. I need to know."

He nodded, and his eyes teared up. He stood up and touched his hand to her bicep while he got his emotions back under control. "You're all right?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

She nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He patted her arm, then let his hand drop back to his side.

"Your jacket," she reminded him.

"I got it," he said.

When the door clicked shut, Alex closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It still sucked, and she still felt terrible, but something…

Somehow, it was better. The wound was still there, but some kind of salve was on it now, and she knew it could heal.


Bobby's thoughts wandered as he drove home. It was all true, really. He was better than Stoat, and nothing like him. And he was a rat. People would see him however they wanted to, and that was the bottom line.

He thought long and hard about all of it.

"All your wounds are self inflicted."

He couldn't put it all together, really, what had driven him off track. Traces of all sorts of things were there: Arrogance, selfishness, pride, this sense of having to bear his own burdens. As he turned off the engine, he curled his fingers tightly around the thin steering wheel. Bobby leaned forward until his forehead touched the cool, curved surface. He thought maybe he knew how, with Alex's help, he could dig his way out.

Humility.