"No!!" Eyes snapped violently open in the room. Lit only by the muted spill of light from the street lamp outside her house, the shadows looming did nothing to ease the racing heartbeat. Shallow ragged breaths racked her sweat-soaked frame; her heart pounded thunderously in her ears. She slipped trembling hands from a knot of twisted bedclothes, rubbed the moisture from her face, then ran them slowly through her hair.
Brown eyes, adjusting slowly to the dark, traveled the boundaries of walls and ceiling, seeking comfort in their stable familiarity. She swung unsteady legs to the floor and crossed to the window, the cold night air against the wet tank top made her shiver, but helped restore some sense to a shattered reality.
Calmer and a little steadier, she made her way to the kitchen and filled the tea pot to boil water. No longer sleep-slowed, she continued to move with a deliberateness that forced all other thoughts from her mind. With no longer any hope of a peaceful 8 hours sleep, she reached up for a tin of loose-leaf tea. The longer he could keep his mind in 'neutral', the better. She set out a delicate bone china cup and saucer, pulled out the metal infuser, filled its bowl with tealeaves. By rote - no thinking required - the calming ritual of practiced movement.
Continuing movement, returning to the bedroom, she snapped on the lamp and retrieved the long white envelope tossed casually on the nightstand. For the fortieth time she reread the letter that she had unintentionally memorized.
'Dear Detective Eames,
Once again, the NYPD Police Academy wishes to extend to you the offer of a position on our faculty in its firearms and tactical training facility.
I fully realize that our previous proposals have been congenially refused. However, I believe this time we have been able to substantially 'sweeten the pot', so to speak.
I have been authorized to offer you a position. . .'
Letter in hand, she re-entered the kitchen, poured several inches of boiling water into the bottom of her cup, swirling it around to warm the cup. Dumping the water out, she put set the infuser and poured the steaming water over the leaves. Carrying cup and saucer into the living room, she became conscious that the ritual she'd just performed was one that was repeating with increasing frequency, almost nightly. She'd debated the pros and cons for weeks now, the specter of the decision she'd been avoiding weighing heavily on not merely her waking hours now.
It had begun months ago, but pinning it down to a specific date or incident wasn't difficult. It was the day they raided Testarossa's nightclub and she'd burst into the room with her firearm pointed directly at her then-suspended partner. Bobby had been working undercover directly for the Chief of Detectives with the only other person knowing about Bobby's status was Captain Ross. That situation was working itself out, it was taking awhile for Bobby and her to get their working relationship back, but it was happening.
Always reluctant to use her gun, she'd been involved two shootings so far and had drawn her weapon countless times. She'd known officers who'd done their '20' and never pulled their gun, including her dad. Since the incident at Testarossa's, she had begun to notice a new caution creeping into her thoughts, affecting her actions. At first, she had chalked it up to professional circumspection, the natural evolution of her judgmental instincts. Now she just didn't know.
She thought back to the dinner table conversation she had shared with fellow detective, Blake Jamison. It was the first time she had put into words what she had been mulling over in her mind for weeks.
"Sometimes I'm tempted to hesitate, when I see somebody ... innocent looking."
It was a frightening admission for a cop to make; in hindsight, maybe she had let the martinis she'd drunk led her to say too much. Blake was her friend. Blake was dating Bobby and had seen him through some difficult days. Alex didn't think it would be long before he hesitantly approached her about her admission - and what it might mean. Hearing it aloud, not exactly sure what she was going to say until the words left her mouth, had helped to clarify how she felt, even if it did not provide the answer she needed.
Up to now, she thought she had it all under control. But it was becoming worse, and lately she found herself less and less confident in her ability to function as a police officer. As her hesitation grew, so did her fear - not only for herself, but for those whose lives she held in her hands ... for one life in particular.
She began to realize that Testarossa's was not the beginning – it was the ending. Events had been building to this point for years, it was the last years' escalation that was forcing her to act: the kidnapper she'd shot, the publicity-shrouded Jonas Slaughter investigation, Bobby's personal mission at Tate's, his suspension, Testarossa's, the offer from the police academy - events tumbled over each other. She needed to get away, needed time to think, but those luxuries were not within her grasp. For once, she actually understood what it was to walk in Bobby Goren's shoes.
Then the nightmares had begun. At first, she was able to dismiss them with the coming of morning light. But they persisted, becoming a distraction during her waking hours, their frightening visions began to slip into her conscious thought, not so easily ignored - and the premonition of their tragic conclusion was becoming all too possible. She desperately needed someone to talk to - but the one person she most wanted to confide in, she didn't dare; not out of fear but out of love.
The basis for any successful partnership lay in the ability for complete and absolute trust and confidence. To possess the knowledge of one another so thorough and deep that both thought and acted almost as one. In the years they had been together, Bobby Goren and Alex Eames had achieved that and much more. Even rarer, they had lost it and regained it once. She didn't think it was possible for the partnership to survive another test, yet alone one so soon of the heels of recovery.
But now, for reasons she could not altogether understand, Alex found herself unwittingly jeopardizing their unique relationship, and a nagging, paralyzing fear was growing deep inside. Her own life, though precious, was, in the final analysis, expendable; to be responsible for her partner's death, in whatever minor or diminished capacity, would be the ultimate tragedy from which she knew she would never recover.
So what was she to do? Did she really want to be a teacher? Did she really want to turn in her badge and walk away from the closest friend she was ever likely to have? The only career she'd ever envisioned for herself.
She was sure of one thing - the love she felt for her partner was immeasurable, a love she had never confused with romantic notions of hearts and flowers or forever. It was so much more than that. They had shared so much and grown so much, separately and together, and opened each other's hearts and minds to new perspectives and new horizons. They had faced joy and tragedy, both personal and professional, and come to know that, no matter what, they could turn to one another for honesty, understanding and unquestioning support.
She smiled as she thought of the man who had come to mean so much to her. Never had she felt so loved, even within her own family; whatever she did, however she felt, Bobby was always there, ready to advise, support or merely listen. He knew something was bothering her, knew that a weight was pressing down on her. He had hesitantly broached several questions, questions she was able to gloss over. For how long, she didn't know. It was getting more and more difficult to evade Bobby's questions; it was getting more and more difficult to look into those familiar brown eyes and lie.
Now, Alex was coming to grips with the toughest decision of her life - a decision that was hers alone. She couldn't put it off any longer.
So she sat, by herself in the dark, a lonely, troubled woman. All the arguments, all the events playing repeatedly on an endless loop in her mind, and the hours passed unnoticed. She was only mildly surprised to see the first faint rays of the sun lightening the horizon.
Setting down the cup of cold tea, she slowly and carefully folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. There was a heaviness in the pit of her stomach, and she felt an overwhelming need to cry. The decision she had just made would lose him the companionship of the best friend she ever had. It was the only decision she could make. In her heart she knew she was doing the right thing for them both, and only she would ever know the price she had to pay.
She made a mental note to remind herself to phone Enrico's for a reservation. She would take Bobby out to dinner tonight. And then, face to face, she would tell her friend and partner her decision… to leave the active duty of active police work to become a teacher at the Academy. Bobby would be hurt and confused, and maybe a little angry, but he would accept it eventually, as he accepted most things. The most frightening aspect of it all; Bobby would want to know why. Bobby always wanted to know the why of every situation and circumstance.
But Alex would never, could never, tell him. How do you explain to someone that you love him so much you had to leave him? That you could no longer trusted yourself to have his back. As far as Bobby was concerned and would have to accept, the deal from the police academy had been too good to pass up.
She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Bobby would be picking her up in an hour. She looked around the living room, and realized that the next time she returned there, her life would be changed forever, but not just hers; the decision she had just made will have changed two lives forever.
When Bobby drove up to the house, Alex was already waiting outside. As she got inside, Bobby turned to greet her and stopped, open mouthed. Seeing the look on her face though, he hesitated, "Eames, are you all right?"
"I'm fine Bobby. Just didn't get much sleep last night." Her bleary-eyed gaze eloquently punctuated by a perfectly timed yawn.
"Then, do I have the perfect movie for you. Blake made me watch this horribly long and slow English drama last night. Guaranteed, it'll put you out in five minutes."
Alex hung her head and slowly turned to contemplate her partner - unable to keep from returning the grin she saw on his face – she noted. "Maybe I'll give that a try. For now though, how 'bout we stop at Starbuck's on the way in." She sighed, leaned back and let herself sink into the cushioned seatback, closed her eyes and left the driving to Bobby. For once. All those sleepless hours for nothing - she thought – all the arguments for and against - worthless. She'd never be able to tell him. And if she couldn't bring herself to tell him, how could she ever bring herself to actually leave?
A voice and words from recent memory, reminded, "If you ever decide you want to finish what we've started here and come back for a few more sessions, please do call." Finally surrendering, Alex knew she would have to call Dr. Olivett.
If I only had wings of a little angel
Don't you know, I'd fly
To the top of a mountain
And then I'd cry, cry, cry.
Walk a mile in my shoes
just walk a mile in my shoes
Before you abuse, criticize and accuse
Then walk a mile in my shoes
