TITLE: Those who burn twice as bright
BY: Tubbie
RATING: T or what used to be PG
BETAed by Lara and Rinne ( thank you )
SYNOPSIS: A Bar. A match. Two minds.
COMMENTS: Alex listens to a drunk and brooding Bobby.
DISCLAIMER: Everything relating to Criminal Intent is owned by Dick
Wolf and NBC productions.Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.
Alex grabbed up her coat and swept out the door. Locking her apartment and pocketing the keys, she headed down the stairs.
Hands now free she held the cell phone that had previously been tucked between her chin and shoulder.
An "uh huh" was all Alex replied at appropriate intervals as she listened.
It seemed her partner Robert Goren had decided to unwind from their latest case by having a few drinks at the bar. Make that a few too many drinks.
And being Bobby, and a loosened up and perhaps moody Bobby at that,his current state might give way to his habitual unusual behavior to be taken the wrong way.
By the wrong person or persons.
"Right, I'm on my way there now," Alex said as she exited her building into the cold night air.
Punching the alarm button on her key fob to unlock her car, she finished her conversation with, "Thanks for the heads up."
"No problem, anytime," Detective Bishop ended their call.
Alex Eames quietly entered the bar and scanned the room slowly letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Off in a far corner sat Bobby alone, and apparently unnoticed by the other patrons. Making her way to the bar she bought a drink and headed over to his table.
Approaching him she noticed he was holding a burning match that was almost to his fingertips and then dropping it into the ash tray to watch it fizzle out. She pulled out a chair and sat back a bit from the table, slightly out of the muted light that lit his area.
He was removing another match from the small box and looking at it as if it held something hidden, some kind of information to be analyzed from it.
His focus on the match was redirected as he caught the movement of Alex taking a sip of her drink.
"Oh hell," he mumbled as he tried to read his watch, "imaginary Alex never shows up this early."
He took a slug of his drink and resumed match pondering.
"I'm the real deal," answered Alex , as she thought 'Definitely loosened up and moody. Ah, the boy can be funny at times.'
Bobby looked back up at this talking shadow. Slightly squinting his eyes, trying to determine what was what.
He ran a hand from his forehead down to his chin and rubbed at his left eye.
Dropping his elbow onto the table, hand holding his head up, lightly frowning he concluded, "Early, talking and, way, way over dressed Alex."
He resumed match pondering.
Even though she knew he couldn't see her, she had put a hand over her mouth to cover and stifle a laugh.
"Bobby, humor me, by telling me what you're doing."
Bobby rolled his eyes. "An interactive imaginary Alex. Oh, the possibilities are endless."
'Okay' Bobby thought 'maybe if I talk to her she will fade back into the darkness.'
He held the match in front of him, presented it as if it were a modern marvel. "All the matches in this box are the same." To prove this point he spilt them out on the table.
"But no, they are not the same. They are alike. But each one is different." He knitted his brow, as his mind retrieved the word he wanted. "Unique. And they all have a purpose. They all do. Similar yet not the same."
Bobby struck the match and watched it burn. He narrated it actions: "It ignited in a great burst and now it burns steady, consuming itself.
As it nears its end," Bobby released it into the ash tray, "it sputters and the light is gone. Ashes are all that remain."
He stares at the burnt match almost looking sorry at its end.
"That match ," he points to the ash tray, "its purpose, its role , what it provided to this universe, was to humor an inquisitive Alex shadow."
He leaned back in his chair and downed more of his drink and then smiled.
Alex took another swig of her drink. She was putting together the metaphor Bobby was pondering.
He picked up another match. "This one could light a cigarette." Tossing it back upon the table he gathers up a few more. "And this one could light a candle for a child alone in the dark. Or this one could be an arsonist's best friend.." He struck another match and it only burned half way down before it expired.
"And this one, this one has ended before its time." He watched it land half burnt on top of the others.
"But in the end, it's all the same. Burn out, and gone. All gone." he sounded sad. Again.
" We see it every day, Bobby. Some days, like today you, we, we just can't seem to sort it out."
From the shadows Alex set her now empty glass upon the table.
Bobby's glazed eyes lit up a bit. He could tell she understood. She always understood.
"You're missing something ," Alex said in a slightly taunting tone.
She got up and walked toward the bar. "There are the other variables."
She knew this would put his mind in gear and shake off his depressed mood.
Bobby's mind, slowed from the rounds of liquor, began to rummage as to the question of what variables.
Composition of the match, the match environment, the weather, the time, the location, other matches, ..
He was deep in thought as Alex returned with her fresh drink. This time she sat next to him.
He looked at her, counted his empty glasses on the table, sniffed the drink he currently had and announced, "What the hell is in these?"
Alex reached over and slapped his upper arm. "Stop it, real deal here, remember? Imaginary me isn't this physical."
Bobby momentarily rolled his eyes upwards trying to remember if that statement was true.
"You know it's just unfair." Bobby pouted.
"What's unfair Bobby?"
"The fact you can always out drink me. And I've got a really good head start."
Alex sorted through some of the matches on the table and picked out three.
She dipped the wooden ends into her drink. Lightly shaking them and holding as they air dried.
Bobby watched in rapt attention.
"Variables," Alex continued. She lit and dropped one match onto the pyre.
It flared and burned up quickly. She began her short narrative. "Impressive. However, these two matches, a unique pair, combined together, unite in a common cause."
She struck and dropped the matches into the ash tray in a single movement.
They glowed like a small solar flare, the flame was twice the size of any of the previous matches.
A cold white flame that consumed its self quickly, faster than the one just spent before.
"A candle that burns twice as bright, burns half as long," Bobby recalled.
"Apparently true for Detectives as well," Alex answered him."We can fit that stereotype or we can add our own variables."
"What variables did you have in mind?"
"Something crazy, like you need to quit pondering, and get home to some sleep."
"True. It's late but there is so much.." Bobby started to reply but he was cut off by Alex.
"Come on Bobby, close this file in your mind," she reached over and ran a hand across the hair on his temple towards the back of his head, "and l'll take you home and tuck you in."
"Really!" Bobby was on his feet and ready to go. "You are Imaginary Alex. 'Damn' Bobby thought 'did I say that last bit out loud ?'
"Easy there." A grinning Alex reached over to stabilize her wobbly partner. "That's one variable."
"Aw.." Bobby sounded disappointed. "You, you just said that to get me up."
Bobby's mind rewound and played that last sentence back.
'Oh hell, I'm going be walking home, with my last drink tossed in my face.'
"Get me up on my feet." 'Yeah' Bobby thought 'that was smooth. Not.'
Alex bit her lip slightly. With him being moody she didn't want Bobby to take her laugh as an offense.
"Or, maybe we could just go and relax." She looked up at him. "Trust me? "
"With my life," Bobby raised a hand and put it over his heart, "and soul. Always."
"Okay dokee," Alex steered him toward the door, "we'll figure out something to do."