Author's Note: Set a few months after the events of Untethered. Bobby, after some unpaid administrative leave, some counseling, has been allowed back onto the force.
It takes him two tries to hang the phone back up; that's what makes her glance up.
Shit, she thinks as she sees at the wan look spreading across his face, and everything was going so well.
Irrational anger surges through her and is quickly suppressed. I just got him back, dammit! I don't think I can deal with another one of Bobby's dramas. That's not nice, he didn't ask for any of it…
IT'S NOT FAIR!!
Life isn't fair, Alex, even six year olds die, she hears her father's voice in her ear. That remark had put a quick stop to the tantrum she'd been throwing because John wouldn't let her play with him and his friends.
…still isn't fair, her inner child pouts. The worst part is that both she and her father are right. It isn't fair that life isn't fair.
Bobby lurches from his desk without a word to her or anyone, grabbing his coat and making his way to the elevators.
Did they finally get a hold of Donnie? Oh god, please don't let it be Frank… It could be one of his buddies, maybe Lewis? Surely he's got family though, why would they call Bobby at work? If it was Nicole he would have said something…
He'll need a ride…
She swipes the keys to the SUV and her coat and follows after him, hoping if she does it with enough chutzpah that everyone will just assume that they've got a hot lead that's going to crack this art burglary case wide open. Like the old days…
I don't think either of us could handle another rendition of "Goren: Is he or isn't he?", they might start singing it in four part harmony now...
She curses as she sees the fire escape door shut, and follows.
Mr. Twitchy obviously finds the elevators too slow today, dammit. Why can't I have a partner for once who hates running like all the cops in the movies? Why do I have to wear heels because god didn't have the decency to make him normal sized?
She trails him, always a half flight above him as they wind their way down eleven flights of stairs to the ground level. She loses visual contact with him on the second floor, where basic railing becomes much more ornate and blocks her view. She doesn't hear the door open though.
He only has to make ninety degree turn from the bottom of last step and he'd be facing the door. Yet he's stopped at the bottom of those stairs, staring straight ahead. It reminds her of the remote control car her brother-in-law bought for her nephew (although probably more for himself). Stuck going straight and unable to turn. Smashing into the wall over and over again…
Bobby being quiet isn't so unusual, Bobby being quiet and still is a whole different beast.
Whatever that phone call was about, it's bad…
"Where we going, Bobby," she asks in what she thinks is a pretty damn good approximation of her normal unconcerned 'Eames' voice. He needs his partner right now, not his friend, he would have come to his friend… told his friend what was troubling him.
Which we are, dammit, it's just complicated…
"The two-seven."
ShitshitshitshitSHIT! If Donnie's gotten himself into deeper trouble it's going to break Bobby's heart. I'm going to slap the snot out of that kid, nephew or no nephew… after all that Bobby's done for him and he couldn't even bother to call and tell him he was okay, or ask if Bobby was alright. Bobby wouldn't even answer my calls during his suspension because he was afraid he'd miss his call. Ungrateful little bastard --
"No one's dead or -- or in trouble. I just have to… take c-care of something," Bobby says quietly.
He should set himself up as a mind reader after he retires. He'd do the whole show with costumes, I bet. Although he probably couldn't wear the turban to the airport… TSA would have a fit.
"I'm driving," she barks, rattling the keys for emphasis. It's not necessary, it's pretty much unspoken that she drives when they're together. She needs something to fill the silence though, and get them moving again.
They make the walk down to the street to the parking garage in complete silence. She can almost convince herself that they really are just tracking down a lead for some case, any case.
Except for the mystery of what's so important at the 27th that Bobby has to pick it up immediately.
They slide into the car easily, but only the click-clack of seatbelts being buckled fills the air. Bobby's got his thinking face on, and disturbing his train of thought before it arrives at the station will only be counter productive.
"The likelihood of a child inheriting schizophrenia from one parent afflicted by it is thirteen percent. That's because it's not solely a genetic disease, i-it's about the environment you grow up in, traumatic events… there are so many different ways they think it might start. It's hard -- to tell, if they're really causes or just symptoms of the disease…"
Whatever's at the 27th must be related to his mother then… her gut churns Mark Ford Brady, please god, if I never hear the name of that psychopath again I'll die a very happy woman. What that sick son of a bitch did to those women, did to Bobby's mother… what she'd had to do to survive it, and to rub it in her son's face? Good thing the bastard's already dead... could have saved the state the money on the execution.
The rest of the ride over to the 27th is silent, the lecture over for now. She tries to figure out what it could possibly be that the 27th would have of his mother's and can't think of single thing… unless the 27th was one of the departments that got handed part of the clean up on the Brady files.
Maybe the 27th just has a suspect they want him to question… Bobby's good at talking with schizophrenics, having spent a good portion of his life living with one.
The car is barely in park, but Bobby's feet are already on the ground, long strides carrying him to the entrance of the 27th in a couple of blinks. She locks the doors and follows behind him, trying not to look worried.
Her stomach sinks as the uniform at the desk points her towards holding instead of interrogation.
Maybe they're just slammed today, maybe the perp's just more comfortable in his cell… she tells herself as she rounds the corner, even as her stomach tightens in preparation for what she might find.
"The lights, the lights, can't you hear them talking? They're whispering about you and me…"
They say that Harry Houdini died of a burst appendix after a student punched him in the stomach before he had the chance to prepare himself for the blow, her inner-Bobby chimes in as she takes in the scene before her.
Of course, with that raging case of appendicitis that he already had, all the preparation in the world wouldn't have saved him, inner-Bobby tacks on helpfully.
There are some things you can't prepare for, no matter how much advance warning you have.
"What'd Skoda say," she asks, sticking to her Eames voice, because if she doesn't she's going to start screaming NOT FAIR at the top of her lungs and Bobby'll be taking two people to Bellevue today.
"H-he -- it's probably just psychotic episode…" Bobby shuffles his feet, rubbing the back of his neck in that way that tells her that there's so much more he wants to say. "Or a schizophreniform disorder, i-if it's been going on for longer than a month… I haven't talk-talked to him for awhile…"
Christ on a cracker… she doesn't need a medical degree or a working knowledge of Latin to know that schizophreniform and schizophrenia are somehow related.
"What set it off?"
"The two-seven -- they're investigating some drug dealer about the death of a kid that got caught in the crossfire of a drive by. They found him in one of the dealer's crack houses…Narcotics says the dealer's been passing out some bad—bad stuff… that's why the drive by…" Arms flail briefly in air expressing both the unspoken 'etcetera' and the feeling of helplessness that is quickly swallowing them all.
Life isn't fair, she tells herself as she takes in Bobby's sagging shoulders as yet another burden is yoked to them, but she sure is a vindictive bitch.
She approaches the cell door, motioning to the uniform that's been quietly watching this whole drama to unlock it. Bobby needs some space to collect himself, and because she's his friend, she'll take his burden, just for a little while.
"Alex! Don't tell Bobby I'm here, he's waiting for the splash…"
"Hi, Frank… let's get out of here."
Schizophreniform disorder is a subset of the schizophrenia diagnosis, determined by the length of it's appearance. Psychotic episodes last for less than a month, schizophreniform disorder lasts longer than one month but less than six months. After six months the diagnosis is changed to schizophrenia. People with schizophreniform disorder can function better in society than those with full blown schizophrenia. However, exposure to stimulant drugs such as cocaine, PCP or ketamine can worsen symptoms.