I've had quite enough of this guy. I get up to leave, but he apparently hasn't had enough of me, yet.

"One more thing, Detective. As per your restriction to deskwork, you are to report to me every morning." He flashed me a smarmy smile. "I need to make sure you're not…getting into more trouble."

Terrific. I need that like I need a hole in the head. "Anything else, Lieutenant?" I ask making sure he was finally done yammering at me.

He fixes me with that icy stare again. "You're dismissed."

I return the look before heading to the door. Have I mentioned how much I hate that guy? Heading out into the hallway, I get more looks from the other people passing through. They look at me as though I'd just done something strange. I know my reputation precedes me and I'm sure the rumor mill is churning full force. The great, weird, infamous Robert Goren was on suspension! Believe it or not, I make mistakes.

I heard through the grapevine that the current popular rumor is that Alex and I were finally caught sleeping together. It amuses me how unperceptive people can be. We had an affair two years ago and contrary to popular belief, it didn't work out, thus we are not currently sleeping together.

My temper finally caught up with me and I ended up in a shouting match with the wrong people. By then, I was already run ragged, caring very little about what I was doing and I was barely making it through my days with my sanity intact. IAB had already started poking around, my mother had fallen ill, Andy had…

Why is it that people think pushing the elevator call button will make it come any faster? I've pushed it maybe six times already, yet it keeps stopping on all the lower floors. My breath has sped up; my pulse had skyrocketed, just from having stumbled into that section of mental no-man's land. The elevator doors slide open and thankfully, the thing is empty. I step in and press my back against the far wall, closing my eyes. The sooner I calm down, the better. I'm ashamed of these panic attacks I have whenever I dredge up the mental sludge from those terrible few days. I'll be okay; I'll live.

Opening my eyes, I watch as the 11 lights up on the number strip and the doors slide open. Alex looks up from her paperwork and smiles, but it fades quickly. She gives me a look. What is it with people giving me looks today?

"You okay?" she asks. "You look pale."

Figures. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She didn't buy it. Sighing, she picks up a post-it note with words scribbled on it and hands it to me.

"Andy called. She wants you to meet her for lunch."

I smile, taking the post-it from her. "Thanks."

"Is she back at work?"

"Yeah. She went back Monday. She wanted to jump right in, but VanBuren has her riding a desk for a while." More sludge.

"Oh, and while you were doing whatever the hell it was that you were doing, Officer…" she picked up a stack of papers with a post-it on top, reading the name scribbled on it, "Haynsworth dropped these off for you."

I take the papers from her and flip through them quickly. Reports I've been waiting for. "Thanks."

"Next time you run off to wherever, hire a secretary."

I look up from reading something in the report and smile at her. "That's not your job?"

"No." She smiles back.

I go back to reading, but I can see she's still looking at me. I look up again. Her jovial smile has morphed into one of sadness and understanding.

"What?"

"Bobby, call your wife."

"Lunch, right."