A/N: Since I'm breaking chapters up in days, they are going to be long. This is an especially long day with a lot going on so bear with me.
(Again, the last part of chapter is Rated M.)
Bobby & Alex's Apartment
"Don't think for one second that this is the end of 'us', Bobby."
He jerked awake shivering in his own cold sweat with her voice lingering in his head. Staring at the closed window in the dark room, he moaned into the bed then rolled onto his back as he rubbed his hand through his wet hair. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after midnight. He'd fallen asleep after making love to Alex and hadn't even realized it. At feeling the sticky fabric of his boxers against his skin, he sat up and pulled them off, leaving them where they fell as he went over to the dresser and got out a clean pair.
After using the bathroom and taking the time to clean himself up, he padded down the hallway, checking every door, room, and window he passed on the way to the kitchen. He checked the back door, the alarm, and then went to the cabinet and pulled down the bottle of scotch along with a glass. In the living room, he got comfortable in the recliner and poured himself a drink as he let his mind wonder. He thought about work, he thought about his temper, he thought about the shooting and his pain, but most of all he thought about Alex.
Bobby knew that what he was putting her through wasn't right. It wasn't good and it wasn't healthy for a relationship. Tonight had been unexpected; he had expected her to reciprocate his affection, but she had and they had made love. He knew it didn't fix anything, and that things still weren't okay with them, but it had felt damn good. Finishing one glass, he filled another as he heard Polly, Alex's bird, start to chirp and flap its wings. That damn bird never slept.
Bobby closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair as he swallowed the warm scotch down his rough throat. Nothing else had felt that good in a long time. His world had been feeling wrong, as if it was all slipping away. His job, his relationship, his control, his home. His time on Staten Island had changed everything, including him. He didn't feel like the same man he'd been before. He felt different, like something had been ripped out of him like that bullet.
Why couldn't everything be back the way it was before? He felt the burning in his eyes and then the wetness that escaped his clenched eyelids. Reaching up, he pressed his thumb and forefinger hard against the edges, stopping the tears as he shook with grief.
Things had been shifting and with each new shift the more unstable he felt. He hated that feeling, like he wasn't completely whole. It made all the holes in him feel emptier, deeper, and more painful. He wished Alex could fill it, could stop the shifting, but he knew there was nothing she could do to help him. This wasn't the first time he had his world flipped upside down.
Downing a third glass, he filled it for the fourth time as he stared blankly at the wall across from him and didn't think of anything as he swallowed down the fourth. He realized he was needing a lot of things lately. Nothing was good enough, or satisfying enough anymore. He always needed something more, something else, because nothing worked. The most important thing he needed was…he needed…another bottle.
Tossing the empty bottle on the table, he stumbled to his feet, dropping the glass to the floor as the room swayed. He picked up the fallen glass and carried it with him into the kitchen. Searching the cabinets, he didn't find another bottle of scotch so he sat the glass in the sink and went to the refrigerator where he took out a beer instead.
He saw the light on his cell phone light up before he registered the ringing. Looking at the clock, he wondered who would be calling him at close to one in the morning. Picking it up off the charger, he stared at the number he didn't recognize before saying to hell with it. It was probably a wrong number anyway.
"'Ello?" he spoke into the phone and trying to sound as sober as possible.
It was silent for a short pause before he heard the voice again. Her voice. "My, my, Bobby, have you been drinking?"
Christ. He leaned on the counter and debated about staying on the phone or not. The fact that he was even fighting the urge to hang up startled him. It should have been his first response, automatic, to hang up the phone but it wasn't. He never could.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, oh…or is it your bed warmer who's keeping you from talking?"
Sighing heavily into the phone, he straightened and glanced over his shoulder into the living room before going over to the kitchen table where he sat. Holding the bottle of beer in his left hand, phone in his right, he leaned back in the chair and said, "It's late, Nicole, what'd you want?"
He wasn't even going to touch on that 'bed warmer' comment. He didn't want her to know how much that jab hurt.
"No pleasantries? You're not going to ask how I've been-"
"If I cared, I would've asked."
"So, this is what you're like when you've been drinking. You're a brute."
"Believe me, it's not the alcohol," he told her before he took a sip of the beer. After a moment, he asked again, "So…what'd you want?"
She was silent a moment before saying almost in a gentle, sympathetic manner, "The last time we were face-to-face I offered a truce."
"No, the last time we were face-to-face, you killed your lover. You cut her throat and tossed her in the river…faked your own death. A truce with you, that's like me giving you permission to keep on killing, isn't it? I told you that…that evil, Nicole, evil's unrelenting in its pursuits."
"And so is our relationship. Many things are unrelenting that plague mankind. We're all inflicted with our weakness. "
Bobby stared at the table as he tried to think but his head was swimming and quite frankly, he wasn't in the mood to think. Taking a sip of the beer, he decided to just go with it. She obviously called for some twisted reason.
"Been sleeping much lately, Bobby?"
"Have you? I'm thinking that you haven't found a new, uh…replacement. That's why you gotta call me, mind-fuck me since you can't do it to anyone else."
"Why, aren't we testy. I thought you would enjoy playing tit-for-tat…it's one of our favorite games."
He nearly laughed at that as he propped his feet up on the other chair and got more comfortable. "Then answer me. I'm right, aren't I? You're all out of playmates."
"And where is your little playmate, hm? Asleep while you're pacing around, taking comfort the bottle instead of in her. You're reminding me of your father. All you need is a mistress," she said in that squealing laugh that made his fist tighten. It was annoying as hell. "Then again, you are talking to me at one in the morning. We're all your mistresses, aren't we, Bobby? Your criminals. It's no wonder you can't sleep."
His eyes closed as he remembered what had awaken him. He wondered if his mind somehow knew that she was going to call him; that it had picked up on some unknown pattern that had developed between them and he just knew.
Working his jaw back-and-forth, he let of a deep breath and took another sip of the beer. Not wanting to go down that road with her, he changed the subject. "He did that a lot…My father, I mean. I remember waking in the middle of the night, and hearing him…He would be talking to himself or yelling at my mother, drunk, and pacing up and down the hall."
"Were you afraid?"
"Not for myself. He never came into our bedroom, but…I could hear her…down the hall."
She was silent a moment before saying, "You could hear your mother crying?"
Bobby opened his eyes and said, "Was that what it was like for you? Did your…too drunk of a mother, who refused to save you, to help you, cry out? Did she ever cry for you, Nicole?" For once, Nicole was quiet on the other end of the phone. He'd scored a direct hit. "What's the matter, Nicole…cat got your tongue?" he asked as he smile slightly into the phone. Got you, you bitch. "Well, did she, Nicole? Did she shed one speck of tear for you? Or did she turn away…give you the cold shoulder, refuse to even look at you? I bet she blamed you. It was your fault, right? Just like it was your daughters…It was why you had to kill her. No wonder you failed as a mother…Tell me, Nicole, did you cry for her? Did you cry for your own daughter, for that little innocent child? I think, I think you didn't…I think you became just like her. Like mother, like daughter, huh, Nicole?"
He knew he was bordering along cruelty, but he no longer cared. He wanted to hurt her; he was done trying to sympathize and care about that sparkling little girl. All he felt was pain and he wanted her to suffer right along with him.
"I was a good mother," she spat at him before asking him furiously, "What about you? Poor, Bobby, too scared to even try. Afraid of it becoming like mummy dearest."
"It's the same ol' shit with you. Same bullets, same wounds…"
"What plagues you, Bobby?" she asked. "What are you so afraid of that you're willing to ruin another relationship for?"
He searched his mind for something, for anything, to come back with but couldn't. His anger was taking over and he couldn't push the feeling down as his hand clenched the phone. "Have…have you been watching me?" he asked as the fear clenched his chest. Looking around the empty kitchen, he scanned over the backdoor, out the windows in the door, and then out the window next to the table.
She was laughing on the phone and it made his jaw twitch. "My dear Bobby, I don't need to watch you to know how you think. Remember, I've been there before. I've felt what you're feeling."
"And how can you know what I'm feeling, Nicole? You have to be somewhat human to feel."
"It's like a changing current inside, where nothing feels right or good. All you feel is pain, and hate, until you numb it all. What would you give to feel nothing at all?"
He went to speak when but his mouth suddenly felt dry as he tried to figure out how she could know that. "How'd…?"
"I had you figured our first meeting. I saw what it is that's in that bottomless pit you call a soul," she said, throwing his words right back at him. "Your emptiness, your darkness. Turnabout's fair play, Bobby. And now I'm your messenger. You know, I always knew you enjoyed inflicting pain on others with your so-called interrogations, but when we started our little game, I realized you needed to have the pain inflicted right back. Why do you do that? Is it some sort of idealized sense of a just world?"
"I don't-" his voice nearly cracked as he clenched his eyes shut against the sudden jolt of pain that shot through his gut. He hated to admit that she was right. He did think that. If the world was a just place, then he deserved the pain he suffered from the pain he caused others to suffer.
"Tit for tat, Bobby, it's the repaying of wrong done. The repayment of a wrong or injury suffered by inflicting equivalent harm on the doer. I hurt you, so you get to hurt me right back, those are the rules of the game. A game you made us play."
Bobby stared down at the floor as he covered his mouth and clenched his eyes shut as he listened.
She was silent for a moment and he heard her laughing softly. "You act like such an honorable gentleman, so dignified, but the truth is you get off on inflicting and enduring pain, don't you? Why, Bobby, some would call you a sadomasochist. Now, that's no way for a gentleman to behave."
"You're the one who enjoys inflicting pain. You're the one who doesn't respect anyone, not even yourself. You're projecting what you are onto me."
"Who said anything about respect, all I was wondering was if you still trust her?" Before he could hang up, he heard those words and he nearly froze. "Has she become more than just a warm body next to yours? Does she know all your deep, dark secrets…I didn't think so."
Breathing heavily to keep from going off, he buried his head in his hand and shook as the anger boiled inside of him.
"Trust is hard to come by for people like us. We're practically one in the same." When he refused to speak, he heard her say, "Tell me something, do you keep these little chats from her? So many lies, so much she doesn't know."
Taking a sharp intake of breath, he shook his head into the phone, unable to speak. How did this happen? Somewhere along the line, he stopped putting up a defense. He stopped playing the game and had practically given her the win. That pissed him off even more. He let her get the best of him.
"One more question, then I'll let you get back to drinking your misery away." She was silent a long moment and he wondered if she'd actually hung up on him and then he heard, "In the warehouse, if…Bobby, if I had been in there, what would you have done?"
Bobby realized what she was asking, and he knew exactly why she asked and why she needed to know. He would have shot her; he would have ended her life. "You know what I would've done."
"Would you have hesitated?"
His stomach gnawed and twisted as he gritted out, trying to keep himself from breaking down over the phone, "Not for a second."
"And," she said in a near whisper, "what would you have felt?"
He took a moment to steady his breathing but his voice nearly trembled as he told her, "Pure satisfaction in knowing that you would never be able to hurt anyone else ever again."
"Huh," she quietly said, mostly to herself like it was a contemplation. "So, that's how you justify murder…I should remember that. You and I, Bobby, we'll never be over. Even if you do ever kill me, I'll still be with you. Sweet dreams, darling."
He clicked off the phone and tossed it onto the table with a renewed sense of loss and emptiness, but most of all he felt angry. And to think he had felt so happy just a few hours before. Staring at the phone, that feeling quickly intensified as he buried his head in his empty hand and cursed because he had once against let her in to poke and pry at his wounds. And despite what he had told her, it did hurt.
"We're practically one in the same" Unable to stop her words from spinning around his head, he got up to pace around as the nervous energy continued to wreck over his body. His hand was shaking as he downed the rest of the beer and when he tossed it into the recycling bin. "That…bitch!"he grunted out as he kicked at the chair as he felt the anger explode in him.
He heard Polly chirping furiously in the next room as the noise stopped him from kicking it again. Fearing that it would wake Alex up, if she wasn't up already, he slumped against the wall and took in a deep breath.
"What the fuck's the matter with me?" he asked the ceiling as he looked up at it in quiet desperation. Feeling himself start to shake with that question, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out another bottle before leaving the kitchen.
Polly kept chirping and it was pulling at his nerves. He couldn't take the constant noise; it was annoying and made his head hurt. Going into the study, he shut the door behind him and then grabbed the two thick case files that were stacked on top of one another on the desk over to the couch. Tossing them on the couch, he reached up and clicked on the standing lamp that used to be in his bedroom before sitting down. Leaning back into the couch, he stared at the ceiling as he sipped on the cold beer as his finger rubbed over the manila file folder that was beside him.
After downing half the bottle, he sat it on the floor and then flipped open the top file.
Alex woke to the sound of the alarm beeping loudly in her ear. Jerking her arm toward the obtrusive noise, she knocked the clock to the floor but it kept beeping. She grumbled angrily as she reached down and picked it up. Hitting the snooze button, she rolled back over, toward Bobby's side of the bed, and snuggled into the cold pillow.
Reaching out, she felt the bed then pushed herself up. Looking at the empty spot and then around the room, she groaned. Alex didn't have to guess to know where he was or what he had done while she slept. While she threw the blanket off, she thought that if Bobby wanted to pace around the house at night there wasn't much she could do about it. She had never been able to stop him before. Bobby always did what he wanted, when he wanted, no matter what.
As she got ready for work, she decided it was time to get off the emotional rollercoaster ride that was Bobby Goren. Yes, last night when they arrived home had been great, but she couldn't trick herself into thinking he was better now because he wasn't. She did still love him, but not enough to ruin herself for. She would take a bullet for that man, but there was only so much of his shit she could take before she had enough. She couldn't deal with it anymore. That had been what she had been debating with yesterday, or rather the night before, and why she had woken Bobby at two in the morning. His refusal to talk about it had been the final straw.
She hated to admit that she was scared to even talk to him sometimes. It was impossible to talk to him because no matter what she said he saw it as some kind-of an attack that he had to defend himself against. The more he varied from cold apathy to uncontrolled anger the less she trusted his reactions. She was walking on eggshells around him and she was damn sick of it. The scary part was that she believed he was totally oblivious to what he was doing.
The growl in her stomach brought her out of her thoughts as she slipped on her boots; she was hungry but the stress was also twisting her gut so bad she didn't know if she would be able to eat. As soon as she rounded the hallway into the living room, she noticed the empty scotch bottle on the table. Picking it up, she took it into the kitchen and tossed it before preparing the coffee machine.
Going back into the living room, she looked around for anymore trash but didn't see anything. Another thing she didn't see was Bobby. She went to the door to the study and tried the knob first. This time it was unlocked and so she stepped in and saw him asleep on the couch. One of the windows above it was cracked open and on the ledge was the overflowing ashtray. Scattered on the floor were two case files she hadn't seen before.
Kneeling down, she turned one file toward her and flipped through the thick stack of documents and crime scene photos. Her stomach knotted when she realized that he was looking over his own case files. She had no idea why he was looking at the file on his abduction two years ago; there was nothing pending with that case. No parole board hearings. And with the shooting, the Grand Jury had handed down indictments, but even if he was called in to testify during the trials, it wasn't like he needed a reminder of what happened.
Sighing, she reached up and shoved him on the shoulder. "Bobby, get up."
He groaned as he reached up and hit her arm away. "I'm up, I'm up," he slurred as he rolled onto his back and rubbed at his eyes. Blinking them open, Bobby asked, "What time's it?"
"Time to go to work, but in your case maybe you should call in."
"I'm going."
"Not with that smell on your breath," Alex said as she left him to get himself up as she went back into the kitchen.
She ate a yogurt and an orange as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She heard the shower running as she pulled down a cup and filled it, added sugar, and then decided on making herself a BLT. While the bacon was frying in the pan, she got out the lettuce, tomato, mayo, and bread. Once the bacon was done she added some of the strips to the sandwich and left the rest for Bobby.
Taking in the time, she quickly ate, finished her second cup of coffee and then grabbed her purse, shield, gun, and car keys just as Bobby entered the kitchen. He had his dress shirt buttoned but un-tucked, tie hanging around his neck, and his hair was damp. In his hand he carried his suit jacket which he tossed on the back of a chair. Dark circles hollowed out his blood shot eyes and his face was pale and unshaven.
"Bobby, you don't have to go in. I'll tell Deakins-"
"I don't need you to cover my ass," he snapped. Taking a breath, he rubbed at his eyes as he told her, "I said I'm going in. I'm on desk duty anyway."
She sighed and closed her eyes. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? "And that makes it okay? You shouldn't be going in at all. It's obvious you're not ready."
He glanced up at her as he went over to the sink and grabbed a coffee cup out of the strainer. Then he surprised her by walking over to her and leant down to give her a kiss on her cheek, telling her, "Last night was amazing." As he moved away, and buttoning his cuff, he said, "You don't have to wait on me. I'll drive myself or take the subway."
Shaking her head at him, she turned and opened the back door, saying, "Take the subway. I'll see you later."
Bobby didn't answer her and honestly, she wasn't expecting him to.
One Police Plaza
Bobby sat in the chair in front of Deakins desk and sipped on the black coffee as he willed the pounding behind his eyes away. He knew that the captain wasn't going to be happy with him being late, but his car wouldn't start so he had to hurry to catch the subway. He'd called Lewis while en-route to 1PP, so hopefully it would be working by tonight.
Deakins had yelled at him when he'd entered the squad room, telling him to get in his office. He knew why Deakins was upset. His captain had gone up against the Chief to get him back early, sooner than what the department wanted. He still had counseling, he still had to re-qualify on his weapon, and he had to have an oral review in front of the board before being permitted to return to full duty status. He'd done none of those things yet Deakins had gotten him back to work.
He owed his captain, but instead of coming into work on time and sober like a good employee, he was late and recovering from a hangover. The thing that scared him the most was that he didn't care. Normally, he would care. His job, his work, was the only thing that kept him going. It was who he was.
Bobby drained the coffee and looked for the trash can when he heard a smack on the desk. He barely jerked at the sound as he looked over and saw Deakins glaring at him.
"Goren, I've been talking to you for five minutes; have you even been listening?"
"Would it matter? I was late, you spent the last five minutes reprimanding me…Can I get to work now?"
Deakins sat stunned for a moment, and then said, "Do you want a suspension on top of being written up for insubordination?"
"No, I, uh…I apologize, Captain." Bobby said as he looked away, spotting the trash can under the table against the wall. He got up and threw it away and headed for the door, asking, "Are we done?"
"Not even close, sit down," Deakins said with an air of frustration as he stood and came around the front of the desk.
He sighed and sat heavily in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Bobby felt his jaw twitch as he stared at the floor. It took all the control he had to not start yelling. His hands fisted into his jacket, balling up fabric as he tried to keep a hold on his temper.
Deakins sat on the edge of the desk, arms over his chest, as he stared down at him. "Is there anything you need to tell me?"
Shaking his head, he kept his eyes on the floor as he reached up to rub at his dark, red-rimmed eyes, as the pain throbbed through his head.
"Being hung over is something very important to tell me, don't you think?"
"I'm working a desk."
"That's beside the point."
"My last drink was over eight hours ago-"
"Is that the reason why you came in an hour late?"
Bobby rubbed at his face and head as he tried to stop the flare of anger that tightened his jaw. "My judgment isn't impaired. I'm more than capable of doing my job, Captain."
Deakins shifted on the desk, crossing his arms as he let out a breath. "You should have called in. Did Alex know you were like this?"
"She's no longer my superior-"
"I know that, but she lives in the same house as you. If there's a problem and she knows about it and doesn't inform me-" The phone shrilling stopped his rant as he instantly picked it up, barking out, "Deakins." He held up a finger to him, telling him to 'wait' as he listened for a moment before closing his eyes as he cursed. "Yes, Chief, we're debriefing now…An hour? That's cutting it close, but I'll see what I can do." He hung up the phone and continued, "I'm writing you up for being late and insubordination. And I never want you in here again under this condition, is that clear?"
He knew he was catching a break, and he also knew better than to say anything that would make Deakins change his mind. Giving a curt nod, Bobby said, "Yes, sir." He moved to stand but was stopped with a hand on his shoulder.
"Stay put," Deakins told him before he opened the door and called out, "Logan, Eames!"
Logan, Eames…That sounded almost acceptable. Bobby glanced over his shoulder as he saw them walking together toward the office. Once in the office, Alex sat next to him while Logan leaned against the filing cabinet with his arms crossed over his chest.
"What'd we know?" Deakins asked as he pulled open his desk drawer and took out a bottle of aspirin.
"ADA Gardner was last seen yesterday evening by the doorman to his apartment building at nine oh nine, exactly," Alex said, starting off the debrief.
"And how does he know the exact time Gardner walked through the lobby?"
"He said he received a phone call at the precise moment he spotted Gardner approaching the building. He got up to let him in, they greeted each other as he answered the phone, supposedly from a girlfriend, and went back to the desk while Gardner went to the elevator."
"Okay, so Gardner's fiancée wasn't home that evening?"
Alex smiled as she said, "They weren't living together. According to her, they were waiting until they got hitched."
Deakins looked shocked and amused by that. "That's the first in a long time. No calls to and from that evening?"
"We don't have his cell to check and she's claiming he never did. Her cell phone verifies her account, at least for now. We need a warrant to pull her lugs."
"And that didn't draw suspicion from her, him not calling?" Deakins asked before popping the pills in his mouth and swallowing them down with the coffee on his desk.
"According to her, he closed himself off before a big case, or in this case, Grand Jury hearing. She didn't bother calling him because she didn't want to interrupt his 'process'."
"You believe her?"
"As of now we have no reason not to."
Deakins looked at him and asked, "And what about his office?"
Bobby shrugged as he told him, "Same story. Gardner never showed up that morning and his secretary assumed he was just preparing for the hearing. He's done that before, not come in as usual on the day of a big case. She said sometimes he didn't show until after lunch if it was an afternoon hearing. When he didn't yesterday, she got worried but didn't think anything of it until…uh, well, until it was too late."
"Any thoughts on what he does when he's not at the office during these 'big case' days?"
They all shook their heads as they thought of the possibilities. Bobby then cleared his throat as he said, "When I tried to look at his calendar or in his files, Ileana stopped me and demanded a warrant so I couldn't get anything more than her word on the events of the past day. We need those files, everything he's been working on since January. I think we shouldn't assume that his disappearance has anything to do with the Patterson case."
"Ileana?" Alex asked as she looked over at him.
Bobby just shrugged, saying, "That's her name. Ileana Peltier…she's French."
"Are you two done?" Deakins asked, interrupting them as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "And I agree with you Goren that's why I want to split you guys up. Logan, Eames, I want you two to look into other possible motives for this. Try to find something by the end of the day and I'll talk to Carver about securing warrants so we can look at Gardner's files. Goren, I want you to head over to SVU and look into the Patterson case. Talk to the detectives who were involved and see what they had as of evidence, witnesses, talk to the victim, and maybe anyone who defended Patterson so strongly-"
"That they would kill for him," he finished as he gave a nod. "I'm on it."
"Wait, why does Goren get to work the Patterson angle?"
Deakins looked over at Logan as he answered him, "Because he doesn't have a gun and he's not completely cleared yet. By putting him with the SVU detectives, he'll have backup."
Bobby studied Logan as he fumed but relented once Deakins set him straight. He didn't know why Logan was so gung ho about this case, especially the Patterson aspect to it, but he was suspecting more and more that it had to do with the crime Guy Patterson had been accused of.
Deciding to leave it alone and that it was none of his business, Bobby stood and went to the door. Before he could leave, Deakins called out for him.
"Bobby, hold up." When he turned around to see what else he wanted, Deakins told him, "You'll do what you can at SVU but you aren't missing your appointment at one o'clock. Once done, take the rest of the day. I want you back tomorrow a hundred percent."
Bobby knew better to argue with that; he was lucky he hadn't been suspended. Breathing out, he gave a nod and finally opened the door the rest of the way and left.
Special Victims Unit
16th Precinct, Manhattan
The moment he entered the SVU bullpen, he hear a loud shriek and then a crash. He dropped his binder someone's desk as he hurried with several others down the hallway toward the holding cell. One uniform got through the door before he made it through and his eyes caught sight of Elliot pinning down a teenage boy who was thrashing around on the floor. In the teens hands he saw a something metallic sticking out between his fingers but what panicked him was the blood.
"Get a medic," he told the uniform as he knelt down and went to grab the boy's hand that held the object.
"Don't," Elliot commanded through clenched teeth as he held the boy's arms down. "He's HIV positive."
Bobby stilled as he noticed the gloves Elliot wore as he muttered a curse under his breath. Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he pulled out a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on before he grabbed the boy's hand and twisted his fingers back.
The boy let out another high-pitched shriek but he dropped the object to the floor. As he kept the boy's hand in his right, he reached out with his left and picked up the object. Bringing it up to the light, he saw that it was a screw like the kind that held the bed frame together in the cell.
"What is it?" Elliot asked as he tried to see.
" A screw. He must have found a loose one in the bed frame."
"Son-of-a-bitch," Elliot breathed out as the boy went slack under him. "About time he passed out. Give me a hand, let's get him turned over."
By the time they got the boy rolled over and his right hand cuffed, the cell was overrun by two medics who dressed the cuts on the boy's wrists and then got him secured on the stretcher. Bobby cuffed the other end of the handcuffs to the stretcher and let them take the boy out of the cell.
"Make sure he's admitted to psych services, and keep him cuffed," Elliot called out to the uniform who went with the medics. Turning to him, he smiled a little as he let out a breath. "Thanks for the help, but what're you doing here?"
Bobby went to wipe the sweat off his brow but stopped himself. "Uh, can we talk about that after we get rid of these gloves?"
"Good thinking. C'mon," Elliot showed him out and toward the men's restroom. Another medic was in the bullpen packing up a bag and he had him come with them.
Bobby cleaned his hands about ten times with antibacterial soap the medic had given them before he was satisfied that he was sterile. Elliot probably would have joked with him if he hadn't done the same. "Relax, Elliot, we wore gloves and neither one of us had any open wounds and we didn't touch anywhere."
"I know," Elliot said but he made sure the medic checked them both out before he finally allowed them to leave the restroom.
"If you're still concerned," the medic told Elliot. "Wear a condom until you're able to get tested."
Bobby chuckled as he walked over to the desk he'd dropped his binder. The detective sitting at that desk glared at him until he was back across the room.
"So," Elliot said as they walked over to his desk. "You're here because of the ADA who went missing?"
"Yeah, uh…He was to present to the Grand Jury about the Guy Patterson case yesterday afternoon when he never showed."
Elliot leaned against his desk and crossed his arms as he stared hard at him. Bobby knew him well enough by now to know it wasn't him who Elliot had that look for, but the suspect.
"Let me guess, you were assigned to the case?"
Elliot took a breath, steadying himself before he nodded, telling him, "Me and Liv, yeah."
"So, what can you tell me?"
"He was a coach at St. Luke's Catholic High School here in Manhattan. In October, a student came forward accusing him of sexual misconduct."
"And, who, uh…who was that?" he asked as he tried to remember the details of the case he'd read about or seen on the news.
"Caleb Cunningham. He's a 16, played basketball and baseball for the school. Patterson was his coach for both sports."
"These assaults, they happened in the locker room, right?"
Elliot gave a nod. "In the showers. Shortly after Caleb came forward, four more did the same."
"Anything else about Patterson…Is he married? Kids?"
"He's married. Wife is Audrey; she was a guidance counselor at the same high school. They have two kids, a son, Zach, and a daughter, Chloe. They live in a house on Long Island and the family pet is a cat."
Bobby glanced up at him at that and saw him smirking but he wrote it down in his binder anyway. It would remind him when he went out to the house to take some allergy medication beforehand. "Oh, and I'm going to need to see your case file on it."
"You think he had something to do with the ADA's disappearance?" Elliot asked as he opened the drawer to his desk and looked through his files.
"We're covering all bases at this point," he said off-handedly as he spotted Detective Benson walking through the doors and over toward them. Her hands were full of takeout bags and he immediately put his binder down on Elliot's desk and took two bags and the drink carrier from her.
"Thanks, Bobby. Food's here!" she shouted to into the room.
As Bobby sat the drinks and bag down, he moved back as Detective Munch and Fin rushed over to take claim to what was theirs, leaving only two drinks and one bag remaining for Elliot and Benson.
Fin gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder as he passed him. Bobby watched as Fin started conversing with Munch at their desks when Elliot handed him the file. It wasn't as thick as he was hoping it would be.
"There wasn't any physical evidence because he never performed anal sex on any of them," Elliot told him as he opened the bag and took out two burgers and something wrapped in foil before handing the bag over to his partner. "He took no pictures, no video. All we had to go on were the victims statements and they all stated the same thing. That they were fondled by the coach while they took showers. Usually when they were alone. Caleb was the only one who claimed the abuse carried on outside of the locker room during the times when Patterson would volunteer to drive him home after practice."
"Despite lack of evidence, ADA Gardner felt he had enough to indict him on all five counts?"
"We also found kiddie porn in his house," Benson told him as she chewed on her food. Grabbing the large cup of soda, she took a sip and then went back to eating.
Elliot shook his head at her before turning back to him. "Nothing was found in the car or at his office at the high school." He unwrapped the foil and Bobby saw it was grilled potatoes, peppers, and onions. "And he couldn't make a case for all five, just one."
"Caleb Cunningham."
Elliot gave a nod as he took a sip of his drink. "You can't take that with you, but you can use the interrogation room if you want to look it over."
"Thanks, I'll, uh…I'll do that." Bobby put the file in his binder and then headed for the interrogation room; stopping short, he turned and walked back. "I don't need to let your Captain know?"
"He's not in right now, but I'll tell him if he comes in."
Giving a nod, he went to the empty interrogation room so he could review the file in peace and quiet. Halfway through the file, he went out into the bullpen to grab a cup of coffee and then returned to the room. A few minutes later he discovered the only other interesting fact about the case that Benson and Elliot hadn't already told him; Guy Patterson never once admitted to the charges or any wrong doing, and he claimed that the child pornography that was found in his home didn't belong to him.
Bobby looked through the submission of evidence and the photos taken from Patterson's home. The magazines had been discovered in the basement of home that had been remodeled as a sort of family game room with a big screen television, couches, bean bag chairs, and a pool and card table.
It was surprising because most adults hid their porn stash in places like the bedroom or office, the study in his case, but hardly ever the family game room. Bobby picked up the cup of coffee and felt it empty. Leaving the files on the table, he left the room and took a glance at his watch. He had an hour before he had to leave in order to make it to his appointment.
As he picked up the coffee pot, he looked over toward Elliot's desk and spotted Benson coming his way. She had a concerned look on her face and he briefly wondered if it was for him or not.
Then she leaned against the table and asked, "Hey, Bobby, how have you been?"
Bobby took a wary glance at her as he refilled the cup. "If this is about something specific…"
She waved her hand and he wasn't sure what that meant, but decided not to speak again until after she did. He sat the cup down and reached for a stirring straw and the creamer at the same time.
"It's just that I've been talking to Alex a lot over the past month and I'm concerned."
Bobby sat the creamer down and tossed the straw away before he even had a chance to add the creamer to his coffee. "Look, Benson-"
"You can call me Olivia, or Liv."
Turning to her, he said, "So, you think because you're friends with my girlfriend that suddenly makes you my friend?"
She gave him a startled look as she said tentatively, "I thought we were."
Bobby slightly shook his head as he said, "You don't know me…And I don't know you. Excuse me." He picked up his cup and headed back to the interrogation room.
304 W. 44th Street, Manhattan
His hour long Post-Trauma counseling sessions were held in an old office building on the corner of 44th and 8th Avenue, that had been converted into classrooms that were used for everything from AA to Cancer Survivor meetings. Bobby thought the location, seeing how it was above Dempsey's, a bar, made the AA meetings pretty hard to endure. He couldn't imagine the amount of temptation that put on a person.
It was a small group, only five cops, sitting in a classroom on the third floor drinking bad coffee. They all looked as bored as he felt staring at the shrink in the middle of the room giving them advice on how to deal with traumatic events. Bobby had a feeling the shrink had never experienced a truly traumatic experience in his entire twenty-nine years in existence.
The young man, whose name escaped him, was perched on the edge of the table in front of the room dressed casually in a black polo shirt and blue jeans. On his left ring finger was a gold wedding band, a gold Rolex was on his left wrist, and his shoes were a two thousand dollar pair of John Lobb's, kind-of like the same ones that Nicole Wallace bought Mark Bayley…They were even tan. The kid had no sense of style. Having money must've been a new thing for the shrink; he remembered those days himself, before his love affair with Armani.
Even though there were only five of them, they were spread out over the ten chairs in the room. To his left was Timothy Brooks, was a homicide detective from the 2-5 in Manhattan. Brooks was there because he and his partner, Adam Henry, were involved in a police shooting and Henry had been killed right in front of him. That had happened only a few days after his own shooting; they had entered the sessions together and since had paired up for whatever assignment the shrink had them participate in during class.
Sitting two chairs in front of him was John 'Doc' Hanlon, a desk sergeant out of the 67th Precinct. The old man was a Vietnam vet, having served with the 1st Infantry in the Army and was what they had called a tunnel rat. The guy would go in the bellows of the jungle, in the pitch dark with nothing but a gun and a flashlight, and clear out any enemy soldiers. That took major balls to do something like that. A lot of them never returned from the tunnels.
Doc was there because he had pulled his gun for the first time since joining the NYPD nearly thirty years ago. Maybe it would have been okay if the person he pulled it on hadn't been a ten year old kid who pointed a paintball gun at him while in the middle of the lobby. Some of the cops were taking bets on how long Doc would last; they all knew his days wearing a badge were numbered.
Elvis Ortiz sat in the far back corner even though the shrink asked him every session to sit closer. Ortiz was a Narcotics detective from Brooklyn North, which was his old stomping grounds. The detective was there because during a raid, everything went to hell and he'd been shot along with two others. None of them had died, but Ortiz had been the lucky one seeing how he was already in the process of getting back on the job. One of the cops, Christina Beck, was receiving a medical retirement and the other, Fred Paxton, had slipped into coma.
Rounding out the five man group was Jimmy Lester who worked out of the 4-0. He was a rookie patrol cop who shot a twenty-two year old shoplifter last week. Lester was on suspension pending an IA investigation and shooting board hearing. Until he got his gun back, he had to endure these sessions because he'd taken a life, his first.
After the shrink was done with his lecture and "advice", it was text book stuff anyway, they would have "group discussion" where they would all have to talk about their experiences and what they felt in an attempt to make them feel like they weren't alone. For the most part, they would bullshit around and talk about the job. Swap stories and tall-tales and arrange to meet up afterwards for a drink.
Downing the horrible coffee and taking a glance at the clock, he realized he'd been lost in his head for nearly forty minutes. The session was almost over and he hadn't heard a single word of the lecture. On the white board, written in red marker, were the five Kubler-Ross stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance.
He never agreed with those stages and he had hardly ever seen people actual go through them in that precise order. There was a lesser known, three stages of grief and loss, by a Dr. Roberta Temes that he agreed with more and it actually made sense to him. They were: Numbness, Disorganization, and then Reorganization. It made more sense because human emotions were complex and so were every experience of grief or loss, that each individual's reactions were complex, but they all went through those three stages. Whether in those stages they experience anger or depression or bargaining, that was up to them, but it didn't hinder the process.
The more he thought about it the more he thought that they were both right. That the stages intermingled, blending into one another. Within the three stages of Dr. Temes theory were the five stages of Kubler-Ross…That could work. He could make it into an argument.
"Okay, everyone, for the last ten minutes it's group discussion."
"Thank God," Bobby muttered under his breath as he straightened in the chair and leaned forward on his knees. "Hey, Doc, any word yet about getting back on the job?"
Doc sighed and grounded out, "The bastards are pushing for my retirement. It's bullshit, I tell ya, but I'm getting to the point of doing it just to get those assholes off my back."
Bobby nodded as he glanced over at Brooks and smirked. He had two hundred on Doc not going back after the sessions; that he'd take his thirty years come March and move to Florida.
Brooks groaned and closed his eyes, having bet that Doc would at least put in another six months as he tried to tough it out in order to prove he still had it. Lester and Ortiz moved to chairs next to them as they all started shooting the shit about nothing in particular until it was time to go. Ten minutes of BS after fifty of BS was getting him in the mood for a good glass of scotch as they all walked out together on their way downstairs to Dempsey's.
Within a matter of minutes from leaving the classroom, Bobby was at the bar ordering a scotch as he listened to Lester and Ortiz argue about college hoops while Doc sat silently beside him. Brooks had headed to the men's room, and a few seconds later, he spotted the shrink walk in on his cell phone.
"Hey, Mitch," he said to the bartender as he took his glass. "First rounds on me, and get that guy who just walked in a double. He needs it after all the shit he talked about for an hour."
The cops he'd walked in with all laughed as the rest of the customers cheered him for buying them drinks.
"What's the occasion, Goren?" Ortiz asked as he accepted his free drink. "You still have four more sessions left."
"Yeah," Doc said, "What's going on? You're getting married or something?"
"Nah, a guy like Goren doesn't do stupid things like marriage, but he would knock up a girl."
"No, Lester, that'll be a guy like you," Bobby said right back as he picked up his drink and took a sip.
"Then what? C'mon, you can tell us," Ortiz said as he patted him on the shoulder.
"It's nothing, really, I, uh…felt like it," Bobby said as he stared down into his drink and regretted buying the first round seeing how he was getting bugged about doing so. "So, since I paid for the first round, who's got the next one?"
"Ortiz," they all said in unison.
"Why is it always me?"
"Hey, I don't want to hear any bitching. I'm next," Brooks said, then pointed down the bar. "Then Lester, then back to Goren."
It wasn't lost on Bobby that Doc never had to pay for anyone, not even himself, ever, while they were there.
Three hours later, when it was five o'clock and Dempsey's was filling with regulars, they finally dragged themselves out. He lost count of how many drinks he had, but he knew he was close to his limit as he leaned against the window of the bar and lit a cigarette.
As the rush hour traffic slowly moved in front of him, he looked around the city block. Across 44th Street where he was standing was the 42nd Street/Port Authority bus terminal and subway station. To his immediate left was a subway entrance with steps leading down into the tunnel; it was his way of getting home after each session. He could drink and then step out of the bar and immediately go into the subway. No thought required.
He took a glance at his watch, the same watch Alex had gotten him for Christmas, and saw that it was only five-thirty. Alex was either on her way home or stuck at her desk. Looking down into the subway tunnel, he decided that he would cook dinner and have it ready for when Alex got home. He couldn't remember what he had at home to cook so he would stop off and grab some steaks and the sides he could figure out after he searched his cabinets and freezer. He was certain he had frozen vegetables and a sack of potatoes that'd suffice.
"Hey, man, can I bum a smoke?"
Bobby glanced over to the young college looking kid who had stopped in front of him. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said as he pulled out the pack and tapped two out and handed them to him. "Need a light?"
"Got it covered," the guy said as he pulled out a cheap dollar lighter.
He watched as the kid lit one of the cigarettes before putting on a set of headphones as he continued on his way, giving him a peace sign as he did so. Bobby put his cigarette out and then headed down into the tunnel with the intention of going home, cooking dinner, and salvaging his relationship.
However, as he pushed his way through the turnstile, he remembered that his car was at Lewis's shop. So, instead of taking the 'E' south bound to catch the 'L' which would have taken him home, he took it going east toward Long Island City.
Lewis Body Shop/Apartment
Long Island City, Queens
He felt something tap his knee; looking over, he took the offered beer bottle from Lewis. Stretching out in the chair, he took a sip as he stared out at the skyline. It wasn't horribly cold outside on the roof of the building, and Lewis had a fire pit going in front of them to help keep them warm.
The building under him was the garage where his car was parked and ready for him to drive home. Behind him were the sliding doors that led into Lewis's apartment, and in front of him was the roof tops of the buildings; however, seeing how nothing was more than three to four stories high, he could see 270 degrees around Long Island City. To the west he could see what he still called the 59th street bridge and beyond the bridge, Manhattan. To the northeast was LaGuardia airport and in the night sky he could make out the coming and going of planes.
"Are you going to crash here tonight?"
Bobby shook his head as he continued to take in the sights around him.
"Then do me a favor and don't drive home. You can take the subway and in the morning come get your car. I'll even give you the spare key to the garage so you can get in instead of waking me up at four in the morning."
"Don't worry about it; I'll come get it in the afternoon."
"Even better."
He heard the sliding door open and turned his head to see Lewis's new wife, Vivian, standing there. Next to her was a woman he'd never seen before; must be a friend of Vivian's.
"I invited Stacy over since Bobby's here."
"Okay," Lewis said, sounding confused as to why she was letting him know.
"I'm going to be in the kitchen if you need me."
"I'll text you if I need you to bring us more beer."
Bobby could hear the teasing in Lewis's voice but Vivian didn't think he was joking as she stared her husband.
"Don't you even dare."
Bobby started laughing at the exchange and caught Stacy's eyes; she was also laughing at the two of them. And ,wow, did she have a nice smile and deep blue eyes. They contrasted well with her dark hair. She noticed him looking at her and immediately blushed as she looked away and then they were both gone, back inside the apartment.
Turning to Lewis, he saw him looking at him. "What?"
"Are you for real? You were checking Stacy out. Do I have to remind you that you have a girlfriend?"
"There's no harm in looking…We all look, doesn't mean anything. I've caught Alex checking out other guys while we've been together."
"Really?"
Bobby couldn't exactly remember, but he was certain there had been times. There was that one guy…uh, at the, uh…shit. He really didn't remember. "I think."
"You think?" Lewis rolled his eyes. "All I'm asking is for you not to do it, okay."
"Do what?" he asked as he looked over at his friend. Bobby wanted to know if Lewis honestly thought he would do something like that.
"Stray."
"When have I-" Lewis gave him a look and he smiled a little. He forgot that Lewis knew just about everything about him. "I admit I've seen two women at once before, but I've never outright cheated."
"Then you have a pretty messed up definition of cheating. I can get you a bigger shovel if you want to keep digging."
Chuckling, he raised his hands and turned all the way around in the chair and stretched back out. "Besides, I love Alex too much," he said with such conviction he felt it radiate in his heart and mind.
"That's good," Lewis said before he asked, "Have you told her that yet?"
"Christ, Lewis, you're just as bad as talking to a woman," Bobby groaned as he downed his beer and got up.
Lewis watched him pace around the roof and frowned at him. "It'll be two years next month. Two years, and you still can't tell her that you love her. You've got problems, man. Do you still think she's going to leave you?"
Bobby stopped pacing as he sat back down in the chair. Rubbing at his numb face from the cold air, he said, "I know she is."
Lewis didn't say anything thing to that but he heard him get up and go back inside. A few minutes later, he was back and he felt another tap on his leg. Without looking, he took the bottle but didn't go to drink it just yet.
"Nothing's right anymore. It's all…I don't know how to explain it, but it's all wrong and fucked up and…and, I don't know what to do. It's not good…Nothing feels good, and I don't know how to get to back to the way it was, to-to the good."
"Have you tried talking to her about it?"
"We…" he sighed as he admitted to his friend, "we haven't really talked in a month. Last night was the first time…And, before, when we did try to talk about anything, all we did was argue. Same shit over and over again."
"Like a bad cycle."
"Right."
"Then break it."
Bobby stared over at Lewis and asked, "Okay, how?"
Lewis was quiet for a long moment, and then he said, "I don't know. What'll make you finally happy?"
"I don't know, Lewis. I know what I don't need to be happy, and that's a wife, or kids, or a big fucking house. All I want is…is a good relationship and-and a home, you know? Somewhere that I actually feel safe, and secure…Where I feel, protected."
"A place that's the exact opposite of the home you grew up in."
Bobby nodded without looking over at Lewis. "Exactly, and right now, the home I'm living in doesn't feel anywhere close to that. It's all my fault, I know, but I can't stop…I can't help myself." "What plagues you, Bobby?" At hearing that in his head, he shook it as he said, "Anyway," he said as he untwisted the cap on the beer bottle and took a drink.
Taking a deep breath, he caught a whiff of something he shouldn't have been smelling on his best friend's roof. Opening his eyes, he looked over at Lewis who was taking a long drag off a smoke that wasn't a cigarette. "I thought you quit."
Lewis blew out the smoke as he leaned back in the chair. "I did." Then he timidly asked, "You're not going to bust me are you?"
Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head before laughing. "If I wasn't so paranoid about losing my job, I'll join you."
"That's no way for a cop to think."
Peering over at Lewis, he said, "Never tell me what a cop should or shouldn't be thinking, unless you've worn the badge, understand?"
Lewis looked startled as he said, "Okay, sorry. I wasn't trying-"
Bobby downed the rest of the beer and got up, asking, "You want another beer?" He didn't wait to hear the answer as he opened the sliding door and went inside.
Bobby & Alex's Apartment
Alex didn't know what to expect when she arrived home. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar, but a learned response to stepping foot in the apartment. She never knew what to expect from Bobby from one day to the next; that man had moods that swung like a pendulum. An easy, smooth transition back-and-forth. All she had to do was wait awhile for his mood to change, or for him to put an abrupt stop to his emotions all together until the next time.
Tonight was no exception. She hadn't seen his car parked out back so she didn't even know if he was home, but when she opened the back door she saw him. Bobby was brooding at the kitchen table as he sipped on a bottle of beer. He had changed clothes and was wearing a pair of loose fitting sweats with a white t-shirt and nothing on his feet. Dinner was warming on the stove and as if he was annoyed with her lateness, he took a glance at the clock. She would have felt bad if he would have called to let her know he was cooking. It wasn't like she was a damn mind reader.
"You usually don't work this late," he calmly said as he took a sip of the beer.
Alex wondered if he was back on Percocet or not by his calm demeanor, but then she took in his appearance more closely and realized that he was just drunk. "Deakins wants everything cleared off our plates so we can dedicate all our time to Gardner's disappearance. It's been 48 hours and we've got nothing and I think I've drained all my overtime for the rest of the year finishing up all the paperwork that had been piled up on my desk since January."
Bobby barely glanced over at her as he gave a curt nod. "I already ate so, uh…I'll make you a plate." He got up and started preparing her a plate of the steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables that he'd cooked.
She watched for a moment before taking off her coat and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. There was steam in the bathroom so she knew that he had taken a shower recently, which meant he hadn't been home long. It was ten o'clock at night and he had left work around ten that morning for SVU. With his session running from one to two, and it would have taken him at least an hour to cook and shower, that meant he had spent roughly seven hours away from home. Alex didn't have to do too many guesses to figure out where he'd spent his time.
By the time she returned, he was once again seated at the table and she felt like knocking the beer bottle right out of his hand. "Are you trying to get fired?" she asked as she spotted the glass of red wine next to her plate. As she sat down, she picked I up and took a sip.
Bobby picked up a roll and pulled it apart then took the butter knife and smeared butter over it. He offered that half to her and waited for her to take it. When she didn't, he shrugged and ate it before smearing butter on the other half and eating it too. "It's my last one," he said, gesturing to the beer bottle. "I won't buy anymore until I'm off work." He then picked it up and took a drink before grabbing another roll. "Your food's going to get cold."
Alex sat across from him and looked at the t-bone and felt her stomach ache from lack of food. "Is this our 'let's talk' dinner?"
Bobby glanced at her as he said while sitting the bottle down. "If you want it to be." She stared hard at him and pushed the plate away. "If you don't want to eat, you don't have to."
"It's not the food. You promised that we would talk and you're already drunk. Not to mention what the captain told you this morning about coming in again hung over. I swear, sometimes I have no idea what you're thinking."
"You're not the only one," he sighed heavily as he sat the bottle down and picked up another roll. As he buttered it, Bobby told her as he slurred some of his words, "Look, I cooked and whether we talk or not…" he offered half the roll to her and waited for her to take it. "That's up to you." When she still didn't reach for the roll, he sighed. "Alex, it's late, and I know you haven't eaten anything since lunch so…take the damn roll."
Alex wanted to hit him, but she was hungry and he had promised that they would have dinner together and talk. Giving in for the moment, she took the roll and ate it as she picked up the steak knife. She cut a chuck off the t-bone and the moment it hit her tongue, she moaned. She never had a single complaint about the way Bobby cooked. He was better at it than she was even when he'd done it drunk out of his mind.
Looking up at him, she noticed that he kept watching her as she ate. His observation would have unnerved her if she wasn't used to his behavior. Bobby realized he was staring and quickly looked away, toward the table, as she reached over and picked up a roll. She ate it with the potatoes as the silence between them got thicker as the tension mounted. She knew this evening was going to end badly.
Bobby waited until the plate was cleared before taking it to the sink and cleaning it off. She felt a little better after eating, but she was nervous about talking with Bobby. She remembered that night in December when Bobby had showed up at her apartment in Rockaway. She remembered how distraught he had been after visiting his mother. The things he had told then had filled her heart. She still thought that she was the only woman, besides his mother, that Bobby had ever loved and given himself to, both the good and the bad. And as of lately, it had all been the bad.
It was exhausting. He was exhausting.
At that moment Bobby turned, leaned on the counter, and asked gently, "So, do we talk now?"
She let out a breath as she as see took in the sight of him. He was too drunk and she was too tired to try and deal with him in his current state of mind. "I don't want to talk to you while you're drunk."
"Why, I can still listen to what you have to say," he told her as he walked slowly over to the chair next to hers. Bobby pulled it out until he could sit down facing her. "Tell me. I want to hear it. I think…I think I need to hear it because I already know, okay. I know that-that it's all wrong and screwed up, so just tell me. I can handle it. Lay it all out, so I'll know what I'm-I'm up against. So I'll know what I have to do."
Alex took a few breaths as she leaned on the table; it reminded her of how she would approach a suspect. Deciding to lay it all out there like he asked, she eyed the table, unable to look him in the eyes in fear that she wouldn't be able to get it all out, as she said, "I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. I'm tired of coming home and not knowing what to expect. If we're going to fight or if we're not going to speak at all. I can't keep walking on eggshells, fearing what's going to happen if I say the wrong thing. All we do is fight, make up, and resolve nothing. There's no progress; it's just the same cycle over and over and it has to stop."
Alex sighed and leaned back. She was done; there was nothing left for her to say to him and he had yet to say a word. Looking up into his deeply dark and unfocused eyes, she watched as Bobby slowly leaned back in the chair, hand over his mouth, as she let that settle between them. She could see his mind going, thinking back over the past two, three, months and everything they've been through.
"Living together wasn't progress?" Bobby genuinely asked in confusion; his hand quivered slightly against his mouth, and she saw the twitch in his upper lip, into this cheek. She recognized the tells and knew he was barely controlling his temper.
Alex felt the tight lump in her throat. Swallowing hard, she looked away as the tears threatened to break. "Don't kid yourself, Bobby, we both know why you asked me to move in. And months later you're still locking yourself in the study in an attempt to ignore the fact that this is no longer your apartment. Every night you check the locks and rooms because you don't feel safe, and it has nothing to do with what's going on outside."
"I can stop."
"Maybe, if you actually made the effort to change, but you won't," she quietly told him, her voice breaking as the tears finally streamed down.
Bobby closed his eyes as he took deep breaths. She could see his chest shake with each breath. Clearing his throat, he softly told her, "Please, don't…If-if you think, if living apart again is what's best…we can do that, but, uh…but, I don't want…God, Alex," he said as he leaned over his knees and then dropped his head into his hands.
His back started to shake and she immediately reached out and rubbed over his back, his shoulders and along his neck. His whole body was so tense and tight; it felt the same as hers. She was afraid to speak, knowing that if she did he wouldn't.
After a long moment of listening to silence and each other breathing, Bobby told her very quietly, and simply, "I love you, please don't leave me."
Her breath caught in her chest as those words hit her. She felt the tears that were burning her eyes stream down her cheeks. Bobby scooted further on the chair as he lifted his head and reached across to her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her onto his lap. She immediately hugged him around his shoulders.
"Don't…" he spoke into her ear as his hand caressed over her cheek, wiping the tears away, "don't."
Alex wiped the tears as she steadied her pounding heart. Finally, after she felt she wasn't about to collapse, she asked, "Are you happy?"
Bobby looked away, down to the floor, as he closed his eyes. She didn't have to know his answer because that one gesture said it all. "I'm trying to be," he spoke that so softly that she barely heard him. "I know that-that, uh, that being with you makes it easier."
"I used to be happy," she said as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Bobby breathed out as he tentatively glanced at her. "I mean, really happy. It's hard to be happy when I don't know what's going to happen from one moment to the next. I know you understand what that's like."
The look that crossed his face had her holding her breath. Bobby's face clouded over as he sat back in the chair but held her tightly to him as if he feared letting go. Closing his eyes, he kept his head tilted away from hers as he got himself under control. Alex had to let herself breathe and she watched him closely. It was that response, him pulling away, that she couldn't continue living with day after day.
"It's my anger, isn't it?" Bobby softly asked as he opened his eyes but kept them focused on the floor.
"That's part of it. Bobby, I know you've been losing your trust in me." He turned his eyes to her but still didn't say anything as he looked surprised and worried. "Yeah, I noticed. The biggest clue was when you thought my brother-in-law was coming onto me and I had to hit you to get you to back off. Drunk or not, that's not like you."
She saw him starting to slip as he rubbed a hand over his head. The contorted look of pain and anger that formed before he was able to get a grip on it spoke of the turmoil boiling within him. Alex waited him out, giving him time to gather his emotions and thoughts before continuing. He shifted under her, releasing her as he eased up. Alex didn't try to fight him as she moved back to her seat as he got up. He walked around the kitchen, deep in thought with his hand rubbing along the back of his neck.
Alex had learned enough from him to know, or at least thought she knew, why he had lost some of his trust, or faith, in her. "You couldn't go after me, accuse me, so you went after Terry. You didn't want me to know that you no longer trusted-"
Bobby's fist hit the table as he said, "Stop it! Okay, just stop." He turned toward the living room but stopped as he turned back, saying, "Fine, okay, you don't want to be with me, you want to leave, fine. Go, make yourself happy because it's obvious that no matter how hard I try, I'll never succeed. I'll never live up to your expectations…What's the point, I'll never be good enough."
Alex couldn't feel anything in her body as she sat stunned. She was shocked at not only his anger but what he had said. How could he possibly think that? Feeling her own anger starting to boil up, she took a breath and eyed the door. The last thing she wanted was get into a yelling match with him. She didn't want to fall right into his pity-party trap because this was what he did. He always made her feel like she had to defend herself against him. If anyone of them had the ability to break this cycle, it was her.
She couldn't say anything as she got up from the table and grabbed her coat and purse as she headed for the door. Alex went to undo the lock but as she reached for it Bobby's hand slammed against the door and held it shut. Jumping back at the sudden movement, she cursed under her breath before closing her eyes. "Don't do this."
He was standing right behind her, leaning against her back, and she could feel his heavy breathing against her cheek. "All I'm going to do is apologize," he whispered softly into her ear as his other arm wrapped around her waist. "Alex," he took a breath as he caressed along her waist, "everything's wrong and I'm sorry, I didn't…I didn't mean any of it."
Alex shook her head as she felt tears burn her eyes. What was he doing to her? What was she letting him do to her? She felt him pull her close into his body as his lips touched her neck. The sensation made her eyes close despite her anger.
"Turn around," he said into her ear.
She let out a deep sigh and turned. Opening her eyes, she stared up at him as her anger and resolve crumbled. Why did she always give into him? "First you tell me to leave and now…" she could barely speak as her voice trembled along with her mouth.
Taking a deep breath, she looked away as she got her emotions under control. When she looked back up at him, and being that close, she could tell that the fight that had clouded his eyes was gone. Bobby blinked back and looked around, sorrow and regret written all over his face. Looking to the floor, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm further around her body.
She could smell the beer on his breath as he said, "I told you that, that I love you and, and you still want to leave? I-I…I thought-…Forget I said anything. I didn't mean what I said," he quickly reassured her. "Wha-what I yelled out…I didn't mean…Wha'd you want me to say?" His eyes bore into hers as he asked, pleaded, "What, just tell me what to do…I'll do it. I'll do anything."
"Can you even hear yourself right now?"
"I know what I'm saying, and…I know what I'm asking," he interrupted as he looked down her body, taking her in. "I know what I'm wanting…"
She felt him against her; his warm body trembling with need as he slid a leg between hers. "Bobby-"
"Wha'd you want?" he asked again with purpose. "You want it like you did last night?"
A moment of panic and uncertainty filled her as he captured her lips in his. The kiss was hard and desperate. The panic he was feeling, and the fear of her leaving, resonated in that kiss. He didn't want her to leave because he was scared to death of what would happen if she did.
Alex knew that about him because it was the same for her. She was scared of what would happen to them if she actually did leave. She knew that something had to give, but getting to that point was terrifying to think about, to consider. Not having Bobby in her life, even as a friend, was unacceptable. She didn't know how to deal with that. She had tried when they had broken up before and it was the most loneliest and depressed she'd felt since Joe died.
She didn't want to feel that way ever again. So, instead of kicking his ass, or kneeing him in his groin, which she should have done, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him down into her body, she tried to feel every part of him as their tongues danced in a twisted battle for control. She clung to him in fear of the moment that she would have to let him go.
Bobby's desperation didn't stop with a kiss as he gripped her around her thighs, lifting her until she was pressed against the door. She wrapped her legs around him and felt him grind hard against her, exciting a moan from her as she felt how hard her was. In her mind she knew that they were repeating the cycle all over again. That their fight had lead to this and that this would lead to everything seeming to be okay until the next time.
It brought tears to her eyes as he pulled her off the door and carried her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and then down the hall to the bedroom. She clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears as Bobby shed her of her jeans. Before she could breathe, he was in her, driving her across the bed as they lost themselves in the act of passionate, nearly crazed-driven sex.
There weren't many times when Bobby came before she did, but tonight he did. She wasn't too surprised that he couldn't hold out too long; he'd always had a faster trigger when he was drinking. She wasn't far behind, feeling her release quake silently through her as he jerked one last time into her before pulling out. They laid side-by-side, breathing heavily, and remaining as quiet as they had been through the whole thing.
Alex tried to figure out what she was feeling as she steadied her pounding heart and held the tears at bay. Bobby got up without a word and left the room, leaving her in coldness as she looked around for something to wear; with not seeing anything out and immediate, she went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of clean bra, panties, and a pair of pajama bottoms. She heard the sink running and then a few seconds later Bobby was back in the room wearing only his boxers.
They had both been fully clothed, with her being the only one without any pants on when they had had sex. After pulling off the blouse she'd worn to work, she took a tank-top out of the top drawer and carried her clothes with her into the bathroom.
She stayed in the shower longer than usual, savoring the warm water and time to herself before finally stepping out. She wasn't surprised that Bobby was already deep in sleep when she returned to the bedroom.
TBC…