A/N: This one shot was originally going to be a much longer fic but it ended up like this. It's set during Bobby's suspension so it's post-Untethered. The characters of Bobby Goren and Alex Eames belong to Dick Wolf and associated people. The characters of Johnny and Maria Bailey and Captain Knox belong to me. It's rated M for strong language. All errors, while unintentional are my own. Please read and rate, thanks :)

Wake Up Call.

Bright light brutally pierced his eyelids and forced him to surface. Slowly they drifted open and they promptly shut again at the pain that began to beat its familiar tune inside his skull.

Jesus, how much did he have to drink last night?

Gingerly, he opened his eyes again and looked up at the cracked whitewashed ceiling. Coupled with the pain, his stomach churned ominously. Fucking great, this was all that he needed. Irritation flared through him.

He turned his head and saw her lying asleep beside him, her make up smudged and smeared across her face, the sour blast of alcohol hitting him at the same time. Not good for an already sensitive stomach. He looked at her and tried to remember her name and realised that he couldn't. He wasn't aware if they'd even got that far. Flashes of something began to filter through his alcohol soaked brain. A club somewhere, sitting at a bar with a neat vodka in front of him, since when did he drink vodka for Christ's sake? She'd sidled up beside him and he'd bought her a drink.

Thirty minutes later they were here, and he was fucking her. After that it got a little blurry. Now all he wanted to do was get rid of her and hit the shower and try to wash away the questionable memories of the previous night.

He got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He deliberately ignored his reflection in the mirror; he felt like shit so no doubt he looked like it too, he didn't need a visual. He turned on the cold tap and sluiced his face, hoping the chill of the water would help clear his brain a little more. He braced his hands on either side of the sink and closed his eyes again. His head pounded, he was sure he was going to throw up and all he wondered was how the hell had he got in this condition in the first place? He took a deep, strengthening breath and chanced a peek at his reflection. Yep, he definitely looked like shit.

He emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later feeling marginally more human. She was awake; sitting on the side of his bed and slipping into the black silk blouse she'd been wearing the previous night. She turned her head and they looked at each other for a second or two. He wondered for another second what she was thinking and concluded it was probably the same as what had gone through his mind earlier, what the hell was I drinking last night?

Thankfully she left without much of a fuss though he did give her money for a cab. As he closed the door, it occurred to him that he still hadn't found out her name.

The silence was almost welcoming. He sank onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands. A ferocious headache battled for supremacy over a decidedly sensitive stomach. He'd never touch vodka again…and the voice inside of him reminded him of how long that promise would last.

Not long it would seem. He took his usual seat at the bar and ordered his new usual. He watched the bartender pour the shot and then downed it in one, nodding at him to pour him another. A long night lay ahead.

Where the hell am I?

"C'mon Bobby, don't you think you've had enough for one night?"

That voice sounded familiar but he couldn't quite place it.

"Jesus man, you smell like a brewery. Come on, help me out here, upsadaisy" He hadn't realised he was actually on the ground until he felt an arm go around his back and under one arm and try to haul him to his feet.

How the hell had that happened?

He turned his head in the direction of the voice but his vision wasn't exactly clear.

"Hey…hey…" he began to protest.

"Cool it Bobby, it's me, Bailey" the voice retorted sharply and Bobby instantly fell silent.

Now there was a name he hadn't heard in a while.

"Bailey?" his voice was terribly slurred. What was going on?

"Whatcha doin' here Bailey?" he demanded.

"Right now? Hauling your ass off the floor. I came in for a drink and found you passed out. Jesus Christ Goren, I thought you weren't into this kind of shit?" He grumbled and hauled him finally, upright. Bobby's legs almost buckled and he gripped the edge of the bar tightly. He wasn't going to fall over again. He caught sight of Bailey dropping a selection of bills down beside his empty glass. He squinted at him.

"Hey, I can pay for my own drinks…" he began to protest belligerently.

"I'm sure you can Goren, but we're getting out of here" Bailey retorted.

He groaned at the pain pounding behind his eyes. It was something he should be used to by now but he never was. Hangovers were hell. He began to open his eyes and as he did, he realised that he wasn't at his apartment.

"What…" he made the mistake of sitting bolt upright and his stomach pitched.

"You tied one on pretty good last night Goren" a voice reminded him and he turned his head towards it. He hadn't been hallucinating; it really was Bailey sitting in the chair opposite him.

"Johnny?" he asked, his voice soft with disbelief. His ex partner from Narcotics smiled humourlessly.

"Yeah, it's me Bobby. I'd ask you how the hell you are but I see I don't need to" Bobby refused to let guilt claim him.

"What…what are you doing…." He turned his head and looked around the sparsely furnished room and looked back at Bailey.

"I was in having a drink with some buddies, saw you passed out drunk and brought you back here. This is my apartment in case you were wondering" Bobby didn't say anything. Bailey shifted in his chair.

"I heard you got suspended" he commented and saw how he tensed. It was common knowledge, how Goren had gone on a rogue mission to rescue his nephew and expose guard brutality in a Pennsylvania correctional centre. The Chief of D's had wanted to fire him then and there but some judicious persuasion by some mystery souls had meant that Goren had gone on suspension instead. His steady deterioration since then was something gossiped about at the water cooler. He'd refused to believe any of it until he'd seen it with his own two eyes. Now he had.

They'd worked together for the entire time Goren had been in Narcotics and he'd been the best partner he'd ever had. He still missed his presence in there when he went to Major Case and would have him back in heartbeat if the decision was left to him, but it hadn't been. Goren had wanted a change of scenery and he had left. He'd caught sight of him once or twice but now instead of jeans and an old t-shirt and jacket, he was clad in fancy suits but the rumours of his solve rate were, if they were to be believed, phenomenal. Johnny Bailey believed those. He'd witnessed his ex partner's leaps of logic himself. Major Case was lucky to have him; or at least once upon a time, they had been.

Bobby shrugged restlessly.

"Yeah" he muttered. Bailey regarded him.

"So what have you been doing in the meantime?"

Apart from drinking myself into oblivion most nights and picking up anonymous women in bars, not a whole hell of a lot actually.

"This and that. Keeping a low profile. Hey…you know…it's been really nice seein' you and all but I have to…I have to get out of here…" He swung his legs around and his feet hit the floor.

"Bobby…" Bailey's voice tailed off as Bobby looked at him, even hung over, that stare of his was menacing. He paused and swallowed.

"People have been talkin' Bobby…I didn't want to believe it for myself…but…" he watched as Bobby stood up and he watched as his friend went pale and then maybe a little green around the gills. The big man seemed to sway a little on his feet but he collected himself instead.

"But now you've seen me yourself…I get it Bailey…I'm a mess. I know I am, I don't need you or anyone else lecturing…me on how I'm supposed to be behaving" he retorted, his tone becoming bitter. Bailey got to his feet.

"Since when did you turn out like your dad Goren?" he demanded bluntly. Bobby opened his mouth to argue but surprisingly not a word came out of his mouth. Instead he paused as if to give his words some thought.

"What did you say?" his voice was soft and mildly threatening.

"You heard me. You keep this up and you're going to end up like your old man…and your brother too," Bailey told him. Bobby blinked.

"Nobody has ever been able to tell you what to do and I'm sure it's still the same now but you seriously need some help if you want to get off suspension and back to Major Case"

"And who says that's what I want to do?" Bobby asked, a chill now permeating his voice.

"You live and breathe the job Goren. It has to be hell being suspended like this and drinking and passing out won't help. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about!"

"You've been suspended?"

"No, but I got close to it. Two years ago, a case went bad, there were a lot of recriminations and I went off the rails for a bit. Almost cost me my badge" But he had pulled himself back from the brink of disaster before it had done irreparable harm.

"Despite what the department might think, you're a good cop Bobby, a committed cop and I would hate to see your career and your life go down the tubes" Already he could see that he was beginning to shut him out and that irritated him. He and Bobby had talked about some deeply personal stuff during their times on various stakeouts and on the whole he found him to be a stand up type of guy. The man standing, albeit unsteadily, in front of him seemed to be just a shell of that man.

"I don't need anyone telling me…"

"Bobby. You do have friends on the force and you're a mess. You need to recover if you want to get back on the job. I want to help you"

"Why?" Bobby demanded obtusely. Bailey sighed in irritation and was close to telling him to go to hell and continue on the path he was heading but damn it, he liked him.

"Have you been listening to a word I've said? I said I want to help you, a good guy like you doesn't deserve this to happen to him" Bailey stood up and faced him.

"I have a…place…it's a holiday home…belongs to my wife really but it's there and it's empty and it's yours for the time being. It's right on the coast and it's a nice part of the world. You're welcome to it for as long as you want it, you can rest, get yourself together and seriously think about what you want to do with the rest of your life" Bobby frowned suspiciously.

"Why would you do this for me? We haven't worked together in seven years, we've barely spoken a dozen times since then…why?"

"Why not Goren? Just call it a friend looking out for a friend" Bobby just regarded him. Bailey shook his head slowly

"You don't believe me, so what, that's your prerogative or whatever you want to call it but it burns me to see a guy like you…a genuinely good guy go to hell like this. You don't want to do that" He watched as slowly, albeit a little shakily, his ex partner lowered himself back onto the sofa.

"I need to think about this Johnny…" he leaned forwards and buried his face in his hands.

"Don't take too long okay?" A hard heavy banging suddenly filled the room and Bobby winced then turned his head. It was loud; it filled the room as well as his head.

"Remember you're one of the good guys" Bailey reminded him.

Bobby opened his eyes. He could still hear the sound of someone banging. He was tempted to bury his head under his pillow when he realised that someone was banging on his door. He sat up and his stomach did that familiar pitch and roll that came with an over indulgence of booze. He briefly closed his eyes and then took a deep breath.

"Bobby?" he frowned when he heard Eames's strident voice and then the hammering continued. What the hell?

"Okay…hold your damned horses…" he muttered and slid out of bed and headed towards his front door.

His partner stood on the other side and he saw the worry in her eyes.

"Well finally…I was about to call for back up" He stared at her for a moment.

"In case you had forgotten…I'm on suspension," he replied. She scanned his face.

"I hadn't, and I wish that I could say that it's done you some good but…" her words were cut off by the look that he gave her.

"Not you too…" He opened the door wider and walked away, and she followed him inside and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the aroma of unwashed, hung over male.

"Someone else been giving you a hard time?" she enquired instead. He paused and looked at her. As always she was immaculately presented which made him, in turn, hideously aware of his dishevelled state.

"Yeah, you know it was the weirdest thing. I bumped into an old buddy of mine last night…busted my ass about…a lot of things actually" he confessed and rubbed a hand over an over bristly chin. Note to self; remember to shave more often.

"Oh. Ex-army?" he shook his head.

"No. Ex narcotics. My old partner actually" he caught the frozen look on Eames's face. She looked pale all of a sudden.

"Really? His name wouldn't have been Johnny Bailey by any chance would it?"

"Yeah…how did you…?"

"You…you said last night…about what time would that have been?" her stance became tense. Bobby frowned and tilted his head to one side.

"I don't…late I guess. I woke up at his apartment which is weird considering…I don't remember getting back here…" he looked around his small living room.

"Bobby…that's why I'm here…Captain Knox from Narcotics called me this morning…Johnny Bailey was shot and killed in a bust last night, around nine…"

"No…no…he was with me"

"His time of death is confirmed at being at eight fifty-six. A bust went wrong, he got two slugs, one in the thigh, the other to the head, he died instantly" she watched him shake his head in denial.

"He couldn't have been…he was talking to me…they…they must've been mistaken" she saw how white he had turned, of how he had suddenly started to shake. She went towards him and helped him into a chair.

"Bobby…it's him. Captain Knox knows his detectives, he identified him personally, his…widow identified him…it is him" she told him gently. She watched him take a deep breath and try to pull himself together.

"Then who the hell was I talking to last night?" he demanded.

His dress blues chafed and felt restrictive. He couldn't stop the tremors that rushed through his body.

Since Eames had told him about Johnny's death, he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. The first day or so since then had been hell. He'd felt distinctly unwell; feverish, headachy and nauseous. When he'd slept, his dreams had been vivid and nightmarish and while he was awake he tried to find a logical reason why he had believed Johnny had visited him when he was supposed to have been dead. The only explanation that had to make sense was that he'd suffered a hallucination. Okay, he could accept that, but about Johnny Bailey? After all this time, why? It didn't make any sense.

He didn't like funeral wakes. They were exercises in torture. All he could think about were tragic sombre faces and memories and the feeling of loss that was so complete and so devastating. It was a private and public kind of hell.

"Bobby?" the soft voice startled him out of his thoughts and he turned. He looked at Maria Bailey and he tried to smile but he couldn't.

"It's nice to see you Bobby," she told him, gently touching his wrist.

"I wish…under better circumstances," he admitted and Maria nodded slowly. He realised that she had probably heard all different kinds of condolences today. She was dressed in black, her face while serene, was tired and he saw the dark circles under her eyes. He was reminded of how crazy Johnny had been about this shy beauty. He remembered how he'd crowed about becoming a first time father, listened to him worry over her and how she would cope, fretted over the responsibilities of being a dad and whether he would be good enough. He had been good enough, more than good enough. Today he had found out that Johnny was the proud father of two sons, eight-year-old Jack and five- year old Jason. Now they would grow up with the memory of a father who was also a brave cop.

"Johnny was always talking about you…how you made a success of Major Case. He was heartsick when he heard you were suspended" she watched him shift uncomfortably.

"That's a…moment of my life I'm not…particularly proud of" he admitted quietly, huskily.

"He told me that you were a man of conviction, that if you crossed the line then it was for a worthwhile reason. He wanted to reach out to you Bobby…but he thought it had been too long…water under the bridge and all of that…" her voice petered away and they both remembered with regrets.

"I…I wish that he had…" Bobby murmured but given the state of his mind after being given his suspension, would he have listened to him?

"Well you're here today. He would've been happy with that" Bobby looked at her, marvelling at her stoicism.

"I'm…I'm sorry" he blurted out and she frowned at him.

"For not being a better friend. I…should've been and…I wasn't. I won't do that again," he promised.

He walked out of Johnny's home with his back straight. Whatever had happened that night, real or imagined, it had been a wake up call for him that he wouldn't forget. He couldn't explain the how but he understood the why.

That would have to do for now.

FIN.