Disclaimer: If you've ever read the short story "The Lady or the Tiger" and hated it, stop reading now because you'll hate this too. If you liked the story (or have no idea what I'm talking about) read on. (Caution: You still may hate me at the end so easy on the flames please.) This whole thing came to me while listening to Toby Keith sing "If a Man Answers," the very song which makes an appearance here, and I wrote it in about three hours start to finish. Naturally, I don't own Toby Keith or his song, nor do I own the characters from "Law and Order: Criminal Intent." It's a shame, though – I'd take really good care of them.
Something was wrong – very wrong.
Detective Bobby Goren sat at his desk in the late evening hours and wracked his warehouse of a brain in an attempt to figure out what exactly was going on, but to no avail. If it had been a homicide he'd been ruminating on, he was certain he would have solved it by now – and what's more, he would have made it look easy. But this was different. This involved the interworkings of a being far more complex than any common murderer.
This involved a woman.
More specifically, this late-night thinking session was focused on the most complicated woman Bobby had ever known: his partner, Detective Alex Eames.
She'd been… well, for lack of a better term, different recently. It wasn't that her behavior had become particularly of the ordinary, nor had she been what one might call distracted or spacey. If anything, she'd become more efficient and organized than ever, completing her paperwork in record time and even sorting her files neatly into stacks on her desk. For someone else, that might indicate simply a desire to be more on top of things, but it was out of character for Alex, not because she wasn't well-organized, but because she usually put off filling out her reports until Bobby started his so that he wouldn't feel behind. It was a display of solidarity – one that had suddenly gone missing.
And that was what upset him most, the suddenness of it all. In fact, it had only been that very night that he noticed the changes – and then only because he'd realized that she was leaving the office when daylight could still be seen creeping in through the windows. A quick glance at the clock on his telephone display told him that it was 5:00 sharp and it was then - and only then - that he recognized she was behaving differently, the idea hitting him with all the grace and subtlety of a piano dropped from a tenth story window.
He berated himself - why was it only when he'd shot her an off-handed "See you" and she'd vanished with a wave and smile that it all registered? Why was it then that the pieces assembled themselves in his mind to form a clear picture?
Why was it then that he panicked?
His mind, which some called genius, refused to comprehend any more and he found himself fighting an internal battle over what he was very quickly realizing had occurred with his partner. The reason for her change in behavior was obvious but his mind refused to see it, resulting in a momentary mental tug-of-war.
It couldn't be true, he told himself. (It was more than possible and even likely.)
It wasn't like her at all. (The woman had a lot of hidden sides to her and more than once she'd surprised him by going against what he'd come to think of as her character.)
She wouldn't. (She would – and what was more, she deserved to.)
She couldn't. (She was only human, of course she could and he was powerless to stop her.)
All too soon, Bobby had to face the truth – there could only be one reason for Alex's change in behavior: she was seeing someone.
Someone else.
Someone who wasn't him.
That had to be it – why else would she be in such a hurry to leave the office?
Why else would she be in such a hurry to leave him?
It's not as though you own her, Goren, the voice in his head chided. She doesn't get paid to be your caretaker twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She has to have a life outside the job, you know. She deserves it.
But, as Hamlet said, "Aye, there's the rub."
Ultimately, Bobby had to admit to himself that he didn't often think about Alex's life when she wasn't with him. Granted, he'd been forced to think about it more of late, since his partner had only just returned from a brief maternity leave, during which time she'd acted as a surrogate mother for her sister. In her final trimester, she'd been on desk duty and he'd been paired with Lynn Bishop, a young and inexperienced detective who lacked Eames's poise, timing, and ability to stay out of his way. Bishop meant well enough, but she had developed a habit of looking at Bobby as though he was a Magic 8-Ball and it was off-putting. He'd never been so relieved in his entire life as the day he and Eames returned to the interrogation room together for the first time after her leave and he'd gotten on a roll (as usual) only to look over and witness a familiar smirk pass over Alex's face. It was the one that told him he was flirting with the line and that if he didn't back away, she was fully prepared to yank him back with both hands. It had been a long time since he'd seen that expression and he almost smiled, glad that she was back. Still, he had to ask himself if he was glad she was back working with him or glad she was back with him. They were two very different things, after all.
Yet work versus personal time aside, he had realized after her return exactly how much of a fixture she was in his life. And in defense of himself, it wasn't as though he'd missed the difference in her right after her return, the new aura around her that was a bit more touchy and sharp than before. Suddenly the day-to-day process of wading in death and man's inhumanity to man seemed to hit her harder than it had previously and Bobby chalked it up to the difficulty of being a surrogate mother, of helping to create a life and cradling a helpless form inside your body for nine months only to give it up at the very moment it all became real. He'd read articles about the psychological effects that accompanied surrogate motherhood and had lots of facts and figures that he could easily have imparted to help her better understand her predicament - but he was smart enough to know that those words would have been the last ones ever to pass over his lips. Facts and figures couldn't mend a broken heart and that, it seemed, was what his partner was suffering from.
She'd said all through the pregnancy that she wouldn't become attached, that she wouldn't have any problem passing the infant over to her sister and brother-in-law because she knew they'd make wonderful parents and they deserved a child of their own. Yet for the strength of her conviction, she was only flesh and blood after all and possessed feelings and emotions that, try as she might, couldn't be compartmentalized and stored away because they weren't convenient. Bobby saw this with his detective's eye and wanted nothing more than to help her somehow, to take away her grief and help her heal, but that would have meant opening himself up farther than he was willing to. Eames was closer to him than anyone else but he feared opening the door, scared that it might unleash his demons and drag them both down. Instead, he did the thing that did the trick for him: he pulled Alex into work, making sure that she was always occupied with something having to do with their caseload but carefully monitoring her for signs that her brain was approaching capacity. When this happened, he took her to lunch or out for coffee (or rather suggested the break – she would drive them) and then they sat in companionable quiet or chatted aimlessly about nothing in particular.
And Alex responded.
She threw herself wholeheartedly into her work and returned to her pre-pregnancy habit of late night paperwork sessions with Bobby. Later, she had upped the ante, dragging him out of the office a few nights a week to have dinner "sitting at a table instead of a desk and eating off of plates instead of cardboard containers – like people do, Bobby – normal people." And on those nights, he'd actually started to feel like "normal" people. They'd laugh and joke and she'd tease him in that way that only she could, the way that never stung, no matter what she said because he knew she cared and it was her way of showing it. Then they'd step out into the New York night and part with a warm "Good night" and a gentle pat on the arm from her to him.
But normal had never really been Bobby's way – and maybe that was another reason why he hadn't really noticed when their dinners became fewer and farther between. (As a detective, however, he had to kick himself for his lack of observational skills – if this had been a case, he'd be turning in his badge right now.) Then their caseload had picked up and there was no time for late-night dinners anyway. Their working relationship had drifted back until it was just that: a working relationship.
With a deep sigh that sounded as though it started at his toes, he leaned back in his chair and ran an exasperated hand over his face in a futile effort to focus his racing mind.
Normal people.
Those were Eames's words and he thought about how fitting they seemed. She was "normal people" and he supposed that she had been giving him clues all along. Strong as their partnership – and friendship – was, she would need – she would want – more than that one day. She would want more than Chinese food at 9:00 after a marathon paperwork session and more than a gentle, "See you in the morning," no matter how affectionate the tone. She would want a partnership that worked not because it had the most successful record of solved homicide cases, but because the two people involved supported each other – loved each other.
"Like normal people."
Eames wanted a husband and a family of her own. Raising Bobby – making sure he ate properly and stayed mentally and physically together (more or less) wasn't the same. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite of normal.
But there's more to us than that, dammit
He slammed his open palm down onto the desk in frustration, the crack echoing in the emptiness.
Somehow, he realized, without actually consciously acknowledging it, he had fallen in love with his partner. He had stepped beyond the bounds of "I love working with her" and ventured into "I love the way her eyes sparkle when she's teasing me" territory. It was foreign to him – and wrong by ever standard laid down in every police handbook.
And it was the reason why the idea of her with someone else cut him to the quick.
He thought back to a conversation they'd had over dinner a few weeks ago – one of the last times they'd gone out before she'd changed on him.
Over coffee, she'd gotten all serious and said, "I've gotten to a point where I just feel like I need time for myself. You know?"
Like a dolt (he now realized), he'd agreed with her about the benefits of having some alone time. It was only now that he wondered if there was more to it, wondered if somehow they had "broken up" without him knowing it. Perhaps it had been her way of telling him that she appreciated his helping her cope with being a surrogate mother and she liked working with him, but that they should keep their relationship simple. Perhaps she'd even been telling him that he wasn't her type.
There's only one way to find out, he realized. Call her – and if a man answers, you'll know.
He stared at the phone before him on the desk.
You said you need a little time
A little time to yourself
I'm starin' down this telephone wonderin'
There might be someone else
What would he say if she was home? "Hi Alex, just wanted to make sure you got home okay and tell you that I realized tonight I'm in love with you - see you at work tomorrow" sounded like a bit much. Besides, even if he got to talk to her, to admit his feelings was a guarantee of two things: an end to their partnership as they knew it and the added benefit of opening both of them up to a potential disaster. One or both partners could be hurt by his admission and he'd rather pine away in silence than hurt her.
Besides, what if a man answered? He couldn't very well say, "Hi, I'm in love with your girlfriend – can you put her on the phone please?"
But if a man answered he would have an answer to his question and he could hang up the phone. He wouldn't even have to speak.
If a man answers when I call
I'll just hang up, I won't say anything at all
If a man answers I know what I'll do
I'll lie here awake so I don't dream about you
If a man answers this time of night
At least I'll know somebody's holding you tight
If a man answers I won't call again
And I'll know where I stand while I twist in the wind
Maybe it would be for the best if a man answered the phone, Bobby thought. That would mean that Eames had someone special in her life – someone that didn't require her to suspend normal thinking when they were together and didn't have the potential to one day go over the edge and never return.
It would hurt, but it would be worth it to see her happy.
Oh baby I'm just missin' you
I'm crazy still in love with you
I know my heart will break in two
If a man answers, if a man answers
But dammit he needed her! He needed her not just to help him do his job, but to stop the world from spinning too fast around him when it refused to make logical sense.
Yet it was an entirely selfish notion, he supposed, and it wasn't fair to her.
I just gotta tell you girl
Maybe somehow make you see
How much I want you to come back to me
But if a man answers you'll never know
He'll let you sleep while I let you go
Oh baby I'm just missin' you
I'm crazy still in love with you
I know my heart will break in two
If a man answers, if a man answers
It was coming up on 11:00 and he knew he needed to make a decision soon. If he was going to call her it had to be now or never.
If a man answers you'll never know
If a man answers I'll let you go
If a man answers this time of night
If a man answers he's holding you tight
His resolved steeled itself and he picked up the phone.
If a man answers, if a man answers
Slowly, with deft fingers, he dialed Alex's number from memory.
If a man answers, if a man answers
One ring, then two.
If a man answers, oh if a man answers
A third ring. Bobby reached up to loosen his tie with one finger, his pulse racing.
If a man answers, if a man answers
The click of a phone being picked up on the other end and a voice.
"Hello?"