A/N: I'm a hardcore BA shipper. But I think if you wanted to look at this as a "just friends" type fic, that'd work too.
I am sad that Alex has lost her playfulness. I believe that there can be light, inoffensive humor found even in the darkest of times, so if that bothers you, something Alex says in this might piss you off.
At the time I wrote this, it was likely my first, last, and only fanfic. Obviously, that means I don't have a beta. So I'll just take this opportunity to apologize for any suckage, including not knowing the difference between lay, lie, and laid, any missing or made-up words, spelling issues that word didn't catch, formatting and paragraph break problems, randomly changing tenses, general sappiness, and plain bad writing that a beta would have caught.
Acknowledgments: TriStateCopFan on wrote a post-endgame fic that inspired one of Alex's lines in this.
Disclaimer: If the characters were mine, I'd own most of Alex's wardrobe and Bobby would convince suspects to confess with well-timed strip-teases. But alas, it's not my show. Darn.
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Three days had passed since the burial. She found him there, standing over the newly disturbed earth, lost in thought. He didn't see her approach, only noticing he wasn't alone when she reached out her hand to lay one of the two lilies she was holding near the headstone. She stood quietly with him for a minute before she broke the silence.
"C'mere," she said, reaching out for his hand. She dropped her hand when he hesitated, not ready, not wanting, to leave. "It'll only take five minutes and you can come right back." He shoved his hands in his pockets and with his head down, began to follow her over the uneven ground. They walked silently through the cemetery, him trailing slightly behind her. After a couple minutes, she approached a head stone. She laid down the other lily, and with her small hand, dusted off the dirt and twigs that had accumulated on the writing. She sat down in the grass, legs curled underneath her, as he read the inscription in the stone.
"Hi Joe," she said in a quiet, gentle voice, placing her hand on the grassy mound. "This is Bobby Goren, my partner. I've told you about him. He just lost his mom, she's just over there," motioning in the direction from where they came. "Her name's Francis. She had a hard life, and Bobby always took care of her and protected her. He called her every day and visited her all the time. He loved her very much, and he's having a hard time now that she's gone. Do me a favor and take care of her until he shows up, okay? Keep her company, keep an eye on her. Bobby's going through a lot right now and it'll give him one less thing to worry about. Gorens have a tendency to stir up trouble and she's got somewhat questionable taste in men, so don't let her go to any wild parties alone, alright?" Bobby emitted a soft chuckle, and as Alex glanced up at him, she noticed his eyes brimming with tears and the gratitude radiating from them. She stood, whispered a soft "love you," kissed her fingertips and trailed them across the top of the stone.
"Let me take you home. Fix you something to eat," she said, taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. His eyes fixed on the ground, he nodded in agreement and uttered a soft "thank you," the first words to pass from his lips since she arrived. They walked hand in hand to her car, and the ride to his apartment was spent in silence.
As they entered his apartment, Alex immediately turned into the kitchen, intent on providing him with a home cooked meal. She wasn't sure if he had had a decent meal since his mom's death. Hell, she wasn't even sure if he'd had anything to eat at all since then. After rummaging around for a while, she gave up and went to the living room to ask Bobby where he kept his fry pan. She found him standing in the dark, staring out the window at the city lights. He had changed out of his suit into lounge pants and a t-shirt, and in the moonlight she could see the sheer exhaustion radiating off his body. She rested her hand on his arm, and as his gaze lowered to meet hers, all the walls he had erected between them since Thanksgiving suddenly and violently collapsed.
The tears that had been in his eyes since the cemetery began to spill out and, holding his face in his hands, he fell to his knees, his legs no longer able to support him. She moved her hand to his shoulder, unsure how to comfort him. He suddenly grasped her hips and pulled her tight to him, pressing his head against her stomach as his silent tears turned into gasping sobs. She held his head in her hands and ran her fingers through his graying curls, whispering the gentle reassurances others had said to her in her time of grief. As his sobs gave way to occasional tears and small hiccups, she reached behind her and unwrapped his arms from her waist. She gently tugged on his hands, urging him to stand up. He weakly rose, and she led him to his bedroom. Drawing back the covers, she motioned for him lay down. He sank into the bed, curling up on his side. Bringing the covers up to his shoulders, she leaned down and briefly rested her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth of her touch. And as she turned to leave the room and he drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thought was that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to get through this after all.