Could've Been Me

Summary: His eyes slid to the shining diamond on her left hand, the brand that she belonged to someone else, not him… never him...

Author's Note: This was inspired by "Could've Been Me" by Billy Ray Cyrus, yes, the "Achy-Breaky Heart" guy! I recommend listening to it while reading this. I hope you like it and it makes sense, if you see any glaring errors or confusing bits, let me know so I can fix them! Enjoy and reviews are truly appreciated!

Disclaimer: Bobby and Alex are so not mine; the song isn't either…although back in kindergarten, I would've married Billy Ray Cyrus if given the chance…

Bobby stared at his empty glass of whiskey. He'd had quite a few, but he needed to forget everything about the past few months, and liquor was helping him do just that. He signaled the bartender for another and stared hard at the box sitting on the counter.

He opened it up, the once shining diamond ring was dulled, the sparkle was gone. He closed the velvet box and put it in his pocket. He'd carried it around for almost three months, unable to get the words out, unable to tell her how much he needed her.

He drank a few more glasses of whiskey, left a wad of money on the bar and teetered off the stool. It was late, almost 2 in the morning. He didn't want to call Mike and wake him; he'd done that way too many times in the past few months.

So, Bobby stumbled drunkenly the few blocks to his apartment. When it came to the stairs, he crawled his way up, to drunk to balance. He finally made it to his apartment and fell onto the couch.

He waited until the world stopped spinning, then he made the trip to his room. He unbuttoned his shirt and flung his tie off. The world kept spinning, so he waited again. He opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a tee-shirt. He realized it was far too small for him, and he sucked in a deep breath. He ran his fingers across the faded lettering of NYPD and held the shirt to his nose.

He could still smell her in the fabric- that smell of flowery shampoo, coconut lotion, and something he couldn't name, but that was essentially her.

He couldn't do this anymore, so he reached for the phone.

She answered on the third ring.

"Eames."

He couldn't get the words out.

"Hello?"

Her voice sounded sleepy, with a trace of anger at being woken at such a late hour.

"Alex."

"What do you want Goren."

He could detect the hint of pain as she said his name.

"Nothi...I just...uh..."

"Are you drunk?"

"N...may...um...yeah."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah...um...congratulations."

She was silent on the other end.

"Alex, a...a...are you there?"

"Yeah, Bobby. Um, thanks."

"Alex...I...miss you. God, I love...you."

She hung up the phone.

He let the phone fall from his hand and he hit his pillows in frustration.

He didn't feel so drunk anymore, just enraged. He stood up and pulled out the dresser drawers, throwing them on the floor, clothes spilling everywhere. He trashed his room, then moved to the living room. He didn't even feel pain as his fist smashed into the wall, blood falling from his torn knuckles.

He found a bottle of near empty vodka in the cupboard and took a long swallow. He almost missed the knock on the door as he threw the bottle against the wall, watching the glass shatter.

He pulled the door open, shocked to see her standing there. She looked tired, sad, and angry. They just stared at each other before he reached for her, pulling her closer and pressing his lips to hers in a crushing kiss. She struggled against him, angry and scared, but he didn't let up. She pushed against him, hard and he stumbled away from her. She slapped him and turned to leave. He was quicker, even drunk, and he grabbed her arm. He pulled her into the apartment and closed the door. Her eyes were full of fire, as she turned to face him, but they went from flames of rage to something else, something more dangerous, desire.

He kissed her again, and she didn't stop him. He pushed her against the door, his hands pulling at her clothes. They undressed each other quickly, tearing fabric, ripping off buttons. She led him to the trashed bedroom, saying nothing as she shoved clothes off the bed.

He couldn't wait any longer and slid inside her. She cried out, his name on her lips.

In the silence afterwards, he caught his breath. He still lay mostly on top of her, his face pressed against her neck, drinking in her smell. He looked up at her face, shocked to see her eyes closed and tears streaming down her cheeks.

He thought he'd hurt her, and he felt sick. He hated hurting her, and lately it seemed like that was all he ever did.

He pulled away from her and sat facing away from her on the edge of the bed. His head throbbed and his cut knuckles ached, he needed another drink, needed her gone.

She said nothing as she pulled her panties and jeans back on. Her shirt and bra lay somewhere in the living room, she suddenly felt so tired, too tired to move. She brushed away the tears that fell down her cheeks and walked to the living room. She found her bra and her mostly button-less shirt along with her coat and shoes. After she was fully dressed, she walked back to his room, steeling herself for what she needed to say.

"Bobby," her voice was thick with tears and an emotion she couldn't name.

He looked from the small box in his hand to her, and his world just fell apart. She was crying, a broken woman before him.

His eyes slid to the shining diamond on her left hand, the brand that she belonged to someone else, not him… never him.

"I'm going, and this is never happening again. I'm married now, I love Brad with all my heart. This was a mistake, we're a mistake…," her voice trailed off, as she saw the box in his hand.

"I was going to give you this, Alex. I carried it for three damn months trying to find the words, but I couldn't. Nothing I could say was good enough," his voice was quiet, hard, no longer the Bobby she'd known.

"After the Delmont case, you wouldn't talk to me any more; you just kept pushing me away. I thought maybe I was just a good fuck for you. I thought you didn't love me, I thought it was all just a stupid mistake, so that's why I transferred out. I couldn't work with you and be just your partner any more," her voice was loud, angry and full of hurt, and all he could do was stare into her impossibly blue eyes.

"I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't…and then you left and then the next thing I know you're getting married and I'm not even invited."

She shook her head, fighting back tears, "He talks to me, he listens, he loves me, and he came at a time when I needed to know I was more than Eames. I needed to just be Alex to someone, and with him, I am. God, Bobby, I loved you and I still do, and I'm trying so hard to let go, and I need you to let me go because I can't do this anymore."

His heart shattered, she loved him, but she didn't want to, he'd lost her forever. He pulled his boxers on and she looked away as he stood to face her. He said nothing, just placed the box in her hand. She opened it and began to cry again.

He pulled her to him as she cried, and she let him hold her for one last time.

She finally pulled away, touched his cheek, and walked away.

The next morning was a bitch for Bobby, but he knew he still had to go to work. He needed to get away from his apartment.

When he arrived, the black box sat on his desk, a note lying beside it.

"It could've been you standing up there with me…I guess we'll never know. I hope you have a happy life…I'm going to miss you more than you'll ever know."

He gripped the paper, feeling like a part of him had died. It was really over.

He learned a few years later that she'd left the city, moved to California with her husband and her son…a little boy named Rob with curly brown hair and big blue eyes.

He stares at the ring sitting in his dresser drawer from time to time and wonders what could've been...