A/N This is my first songfic. Takes place right after "Endgame".
Possible Spoilers: "Endgame" and "Blind Spot"
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, etc., etc.
Alex stopped in front of the door of the apartment, hand poised to knock. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, nervously. Maybe she should have brought a thermos of soup or a basket of muffins, so she had more of a legitimate reason to be there. But she doubted very much that any sort of "comfort food" offering would console her partner very much. At least it would have created something to talk about besides why she hadn't left him the hell alone like he had told her to. Alex wanted to give Bobby space, but with his mother gone, she wasn't sure if he felt he had much left to stick around for. She had called him a few days after the funeral and he had abruptly ended the conversation with a few choice words that left her blinking in disbelief. He stopped answering her calls on his cell and wouldn't return the messages she left on his machine at his apartment. It took her one restless night, to realize she was not going to get any sleep until she checked up on him in person, since he had left her no other option.
She rapped her knuckles on the door.
"Bobby?" she called through the door, "it's Eames, Bobby."
She twisted the doorknob, expecting it to be locked but was surprised when it turned freely. She opened the door and stepped over the threshold. She was slightly taken aback by the sight that greeted her. By Bobby Goren's standards, the apartment was a wreck. The coffee table was littered with loose family photos and highball glasses with various levels of liquid left in them. Balled up pieces of yellow paper lay scattered on the floor. She picked up one of the tightly wadded balls and unfolded it. She recognized the writing and the sketch of a young woman as one of the many pages from the legal pad Mark Ford Brady's lawyer had passed to the detectives shortly before Brady's execution. She wasn't particularly surprised that Bobby had reacted this way. She had a hard time reading through the first page of Brady's detailed confession and would have liked nothing better than to burn it. She had a feeling that Bobby had read each and every page. She turned over the sheet and was perplexed by what was on the back. She picked up another ball and unfolded it, finding another sheet by Brady and more handwriting on the back, handwriting that hadn't been there when she had given the pad to Bobby. She stacked the two sheets together, folded them neatly and stuck them in her pocket.
She had been so engrossed by the state of the living room that she hadn't noticed the light coming from the gap under the bedroom door across the room. She opened the door and found Bobby sitting against the wall on the far side of the room, his head and arms draped over his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. Knowing what a hard time Bobby had getting and staying asleep, which she presumed he was, she began to slowly back out of the room and was about to close the door when his head snapped up to look in her direction. His eyes were red and it wasn't easy to determine if it was from lack of sleep or crying, or perhaps both. She stood frozen in the doorway, hand still on the knob, uncertain whether she should leave or stay.
Through the darkness
I can see your light
And you will always shine
And I can feel your heart in mine
Your face I've memorized
I idolize just you
"Eames," he said hoarsely looking confused as why she would be in his apartment, let alone his bedroom, "why are you…what are…"
"You ignored my calls. Got worried and decided to check up on you. Call it a partner's prerogative," she said, crossing the room towards him.
"I'm fine," he said unconvincingly.
She sat down beside him on the floor. "You sure?"
He nodded and gave a half-hearted smile. "I, uh, just needed some time to myself, you know?"
"Yeah, I do. But doesn't mean I'm going to stop worrying about you."
They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, Bobby scratching at his three-day stubble with his middle and ring finger. Alex swallowed and shifted to pull the yellow sheets from her pocket.
"So," she said unfolding the pages with Brady's handwriting face up and spreading them on her lap. "You gonna tell me about these?" she asked, looking into his face. He looked blankly back at her.
"They're just, uh, just the pages from the confession from..."
"I know that, Bobby. What I meant was what is this?" She turned over the first page and revealed the scrawled handwriting and the pained words: I am not him. The page was filled with these four words, running down the page. The words became less and less legible the further down the page they were. Alex stared at Bobby and he shifted uncomfortably.
I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
I've loved you for so long
And after all is said and done
"Bobby," she prodded gently, "What does 'I am not him' mean?" When he didn't answer, she continued, "Do you mean Brady?"
At the name, Bobby rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, as if trying to get rid of an image burned in them.
"You have climbed into the minds' of criminals and psychos stranger than Brady and made it out all right. You aren't Brady, no matter what similarities…"
You're still you
After all
You're still you
Bobby shook his head and started to rise. "I knew you wouldn't understand, Eames."
You walk past me
I can feel your pain
Time changes everything
One truth always stays the same
She jumped to her feet and followed him into the living room, where he proceeded to throw the rest of the paper balls in the wire wastebasket in the corner.
"So make me understand Bobby," she said a little more harshly than she would have liked.
He put down the wastebasket and strode across the room to stand right in front of her. He bent down so he could get right in her face, a tactic she recognized from the interrogation room. She was shocked that he was using it on her but held his steely gaze.
"You wanna understand, Eames?! You want to understand?!" he sneered, suddenly livid.
"Yeah. I do."
"Well, understand this," he growled turning away from her, "Mark Ford Brady, the rapist-murderer. The bastard…was my…my…" he stammered, suddenly unable to speak, angry tears brimming in his eyes.
It suddenly clicked in Alex's mind. Bobby wasn't worried about not making out of a perp's mind because he was afraid he was already in one. His own mind. The keenly honed tool that made him so terribly unique and such a great interrogator. He was afraid that his gift was a curse passed to him through his serial rapist-murderer father. Now she understood why he had pushed her away. He couldn't let anyone know; not in the squad, not the captain, not even his own partner. How could anyone understand that the detective with one of the highest case closure rates in the department was the son of a monster?
You're still you
After all
You're still you
"Bobby. I…" she began but could find no words that could convey all that was rushing through her head. He turned and faced her, tears now streaming down his face.
"I…I talked to my mom b-before she died, you know, and she, uh, she didn't know who…" he choked out.
Tears had sprung to Alex's eyes as well and she covered her gaping mouth with her hand.
"I'm so sorry Bobby," she whispered, tears filling her own eyes. She stepped forward and gripped his hand. She was relieved when he didn't swat it away but grasped it firmly, as if she was the only thing keeping him anchored to the ground. They stood there in silence, Bobby staring at the carpet, silent sobs still wracking his large frame. Her heart ached and she would have done anything to stop the pain he was going through. She turned slightly and directed him towards the coach on the far side of the room. Once seated, she put her arm around his shoulders.
I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
She understood. Bobby had been terrified that Eames wouldn't understand. That she would just be as horrified as he had been at learning his true parentage. But she didn't judge him. He had realized how much Eames meant to him when she had been abducted several months previous but hadn't fully realized how much he depended on his in his day to day life. It was more than just tag teaming in the interrogation room or knowing they had each other's back. She was always there for him, even when he didn't really want her there. Especially when he didn't want her there. She seemed to know better somehow. He was glad she ignored his screams to leave him alone. He needed her. Without really noticing what he was doing, he leaned over and put his head in her lap. If she was surprised, she didn't show it and stroked his shoulder and the side of his face. Whether she knew it or not, she was slowly pulling him back to the world of the living.
Alex studied the profile of Bobby's face and traced his stubble-covered jaw line with her fingers. She noticed his breathing had started to even out. She sighed softly. She was glad she could give him some comfort in his time of need. She still felt indebted to him for all the time he spent at the hospital at her bedside while she recovered from her encounter with Jo Gage. He was so much more than her partner. He was her best friend. And he always wanted to be there to protect her. She sensed it. Now it was her turn to protect him.
And I believe in you
Although you never asked me to
I will remember you
And what life put you through
They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, the most peace he had had since the tumultuous events of the last few weeks. He didn't feel so alone in the world any more, resting here in her arms, her fingers tenderly running through his hair.
"Eam…Alex?" he said quietly, looking up at her.
"Yes, Bobby."
"Thanks."
She didn't say anything but smiled down at him. And for the first time in what seemed like years, he smiled too.
And in this cruel and lonely world
I found one love
You're still you
After all
You're still you
The End
A/N Hope you enjoyed it. Please review so I can know what to work on for my bigger stories.