Disclaimer:All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them stems from my fond admiration (and a few personal quirks I will seek "help" for).

AN: This story is not set within the accepted "canon" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series. So I get to "fool around" with them in ways in which they've never been seen, stretching that to the limit and suspending the "reality" that is "fiction" to start with…now there's a contradiction in terms!!!

(And yeah Goren I know the proper word for that is oxymoron…what do you mean you "can't find the key to the handcuffs"? I have a story to write…okay I'll dictate…you type…just make sure you've got the spellchecker turned on…)

Bobby is struggling to come to terms with his loss…

JUNK FOOD AND BOOZE

Bobby Goren had been oddly controlled, speaking like a man whose emotions were torn beyond ever hurting again, when he'd told them of his loss. Eerily calm as he announced the end of a relationship had been the most central in his life, shaped much of who and what he was and was now over. Beyond the best science to save and now lost to him. You could almost feel the warmth and sympathy in the Squad Room for him but Bobby would have none of it as he turned to leave. Rejecting everyone who reached out to him with words or physically.

It took Eames two days to get him to pick up his phone and four days to get Bobby to open the door of his apartment. She understood his need to grieve, have some time to himself and think what to do next. The trouble was she wasn't the only one worried about him, fearing he'd spiral down into some kind of depression or self-destructive behaviours. Behind that large frame and cool exterior Bobby felt things so acutely, so deeply. At least you knew that once you got to know him a little, work with him a while and see how much of himself he invested in things.

He looked to have aged five years as he gestured her listlessly into the apartment. And to have shrunk as Bobby almost cuddled up to a pillow on the sofa, where it looked like he'd been sleeping. Whatever sleep he'd had. And Eames suspected a lot of that was induced by an empty bottle of scotch on the floor. Next to a pizza box with congealed contents she picked up without a word, taking it and the empty bottle through to the kitchen. Junk food and booze were not the answer and in his right mind Bobby knew that too.

"I'll make some coffee" she said kindly "I could fix you an omelette if you got eggs Bobby"

"Uhuh" he said dully "I think so"

Eames set to in the kitchen, relieved by one thing anyway. There were no more take away boxes or empty bottles to suggest Bobby had been binging on a diet of monosodium glutamate and malt. Between clearing up she glanced through the doorway to see him still stretched out, hugging the pillow and staring at the ceiling. As Eames beat the eggs she was wondering if she could persuade Bobby to eat and drink something, he'd also allow himself to be talked or maybe bullied a little into other things. Like a shower and shave and a change of clothes.

"I don't know what I have to do now Eames" Bobby said suddenly, his voice croaking not so much from emotion as the lack of use it had with him alone here and not speaking to anyone.

Eames went and sat in the black leather armchair. Reaching out a tentative hand to touch him and then thinking better of that.

"I do Bobby" she said kindly "I can come with you if you want. Help you with the paperwork that's going to be necessary"

Finally that face showed some expression "Thanks" Bobby said quietly "I…um…I'd like that. I do know…I have to…well in a way…that I have to start all over"

"That seems a good way of putting it" Eames encouraged him.

"Mmm" said Bobby scratching his cheek with an expression of slight surprise it was so long since he shaved "And…er…I guess this experience has taught me one thing Eames" he sat up slowly "To check the pockets of my jeans more carefully for my library card before I put them in the wash next time"

AN: Bobby is now forming a good relationship with his new library card…we have doubly laminated it to avoid future accidents and the old one is buried under a tree in the garden…in one of his shoeboxes.