A/N: Also, since this is AU, I've decided to alter a family history of one of the SVU detectives. I'm not going to say who or how, you have to keep reading.

Enjoy!

Alex's Apartment

Morning came all too soon as he shifted on the mattress, rolled onto his back, and opened his eyes. There was a faint hint of sunlight across the ceiling as he rubbed at his head and eyes before sitting up on the edge. Muffling a yawn, he scratched at his head and rubbed his neck. Running his palm over his chin and jaw, he felt the beard growth. He would have to shave before going into work tomorrow, but not this morning. Looking over his shoulder to Alex, he smiled at how peaceful and happy she looked in her sleep. Her left hand was lying on top of the pillow next to her face. He saw the ring on her finger and felt awed once again to the fact that she was marrying him.

Getting up, he headed to the stairs. After using the bathroom, he went into the bedroom and opened a dresser drawer. He kept one pair of work clothes in the closet, just in case, but all the rest were t-shirts and jeans, cargo shorts and short sleeved flannels. He changed into a pair of cargo shorts and a flannel over a white t-shirt. Grabbing his sneakers, he slipped them on without any socks and went back down to the living room.

Finding his keys in the jeans pocket, he gathered up their dirty jeans and jerseys and put them into a bag he would drop off at the cleaners. He found a notepad and pen and wrote a note in case she woke up before he got back. Checking the cabinets and refrigerator, he made a mental note of what he would need to make them a decent breakfast before leaving.

First stop was to the cleaners. He dropped the bag off, thanked Jhake who he learned had emigrated from India, and then proceeded to the grocery store a block down. When he returned to the apartment almost an hour later Alex was still asleep. He prepared a pot of coffee and started cooking.

As he was scrambling the eggs in a pan, he heard her come into the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as she got a cup and fill it with coffee. "Good morning."

Alex groaned and took a sip, grimacing at the taste. "Too strong."

"That's the point. Put some sugar in it." Bobby went back to cooking as he turned the burner off and then picked up a fork to flip the bacon. "Can you put the bread in the toaster, babe." He took a sip of his coffee as he opened the oven and took out the hash browns.

Alex grabbed one off the sheet and popped it into her mouth. "You went all out."

"I'm starving," he said as he kissed her on the temple as he moved around her to get the plates. "And I know how you are when you have a hangover. You throw your diet right out the window in favor of greasy food and bad carbs."

He filled the plates and sat them on the kitchen island where they ate. Picking up the morning paper, he started to read. Alex grabbed her phone and made a few calls, mostly to her family to tell them that they decided on a date and that they were going to have it there.

After she got off the phone with her sister, she said, "So, are you going to visit your mom today?"

Bobby sat the paper down and looked over at her. Alex grabbed an orange out of the bowl and started slicing it into halves. "I thought we've been over this."

"All you said was that you would see her when you-"

"Do you want me here, or there?"

Alex worked on peeling the orange as she told him, "It's Sunday."

"Answer the question," he said as he picked up his cup and reached behind him to the counter for the coffee pot. "Where do you want me to be right now, Alex? On this beautiful Sunday, the day after I proposed, do you want me to get up and go upstate all day? Or do you want me to be right here with you?"

She sighed and shook her head, saying, "It's not what I want, it's what you want."

"Exactly," he said as he filled the cup before putting the pot back. Leaning over to her, he said, "It's what I want." Bobby breathed out as he shook his head and thought of how he could explain this. In the end, he just decided to let it all out. "I've let my mother dictate too much of my life already, Alex. You know that. A visit once a week, a phone call every day, for the rest of my life, or hers, whoever goes first…I can't live like that anymore."

"But you need to take care of her too."

Bobby almost laughed at that. "Take care of her? How? By being her whipping boy? I take care of her by talking to her doctors. I take care of her by ensuring her Medicaid isn't trying to screw her over. That's how I take care of her. Everything else, the visits, the calls…it's all venting. She calls me to vent. She calls me to tell me how much of a worthless son I am and how Frank could make things better. That's what I am to her, what I have always been. She knows I will keep coming back no matter what she does or says."

Alex gave a nod but she still didn't look satisfied. "I'm glad you're taking control of your life, Bobby, I am. But you haven't seen your mom in months."

"And you know why. My memory still isn't a hundred percent, and I've been dealing with the fallout of the whole Nicole Wallace thing. I've had IA breathing down my neck for months, and then there's this case I'm working on…And through it all I've been rebuilding my relationship with you. The last thing I need is my mother's drama on top of it all. I've talked to her doctors, she's fine." He picked up the paper and went back to reading, ending the conversation.

He thought he ended it until Alex said, "You can't keep ignoring her."

"I'm not," he said, still trying to read the paper. "I mean, I am, but it's not…" Sitting the paper down, he rubbed at his head as he felt his frustration building. "I'm deciding when I go see her. I'll go when it's best for me, and not when it's convenient for her. She's not going anywhere. She's not trying to make a relationship work. I am. I'm done living my life according to her whims, and I'm no longer going to jump when she calls," he said as he looked into her eyes. He saw Alex relax a little as she took that in. She was coming around to his side of things. Bobby took her hand, the one with the ring on it, and told her, "And I'm not going to choose my mother over you any longer."

She squeezed his hand and smiled despite the sadness he saw in her eyes. "I don't understand why you can't have both."

Bobby shook his head as he felt the pain in his heart. He knew all too well how that wasn't possible. "I wished I understood why too. All I know is that it doesn't work that way. We've got to see her anyway, tell her we're getting married, but it's not going to be today. Today, I'm here with you."

Alex leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. She went back to eating as he went back to reading. She finished her food and left the kitchen. Minutes later he heard the shower going upstairs.

241 E. 144th Street

Apartment 4C

"Stan! Stanley, open up!" Anthony Ames yelled as he beat on the door again. Pulling out his cell, he tried calling again only to get the voicemail. Banging on the door again, he said, "Come on, man! We're going to miss the plane!"

When he still received no answer, he down to the superintendent's apartment and banged on his door. The door opened and he asked, "Have you seen Stan Mendez today?"

"No, why? Who're you?" the man asked as he opened the door wider and stepped out into the hall.

"I work with Stan; we've got a plane to catch and he's not answering. How about his wife?"

"Look, pal, I haven't seen him or his wife all day."

Looking at his watch, Anthony shook his head at the time. They had to catch a plane at one; it was eleven-thirty. "Can you open the door for me?"

The superintendent looked hesitate but then went into the apartment, leaving the door open. He came back with a key and motioned toward the stairs. They took the stairs up to the fourth floor and went to apartment 4C.

Anthony banged on the door again as the superintendent worked the key into the lock. "Stan, we're coming in."

He pushed the door open once the lock clicked and looked around the living room and kitchen. They were empty. Heading to the bedroom, he passed by the bathroom and saw it too was empty. Banging on the door, he waited to hear a noise and when he didn't, he grabbed hold of the knob and turned it.

"Stan, you and Rose-" he stopped as he saw her on the bed. His stomach turned as he gasped, "Oh my god," before running out into the hallway where he hit his knees and gagged. He was shaking as he pulled out his cell at the same time yelling out, "Call 9-1-1!"

Hell's Kitchen Flea Market

Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan

It was another beautiful spring day. The sun was high in the sky and shining down on them as a breeze came in off the Hudson River that was only a few blocks over. They were shopping around the outdoor market that was actually named one of the top ten shopping streets in the world according to National Geographic magazine, and looking for a table and chairs for the kitchen, along with a bedframe to finally put in the bedroom.

Alex was walking down the long strip of West 39th street between 9th and 10th Avenue, stopping here and there, talking to a few sellers, before finally seeing something she liked. "How about this one?"

Bobby walked up behind her and looked down at the wooden table. He gave a nod as the seller approached them.

"I'm Gene," the man said as he held out his hand.

"Bobby," he said as he shook his hand. "This is Alex."

Gene shook her hand too before asking, "You're interested? I got that piece when I was in the Middle East. It's handcrafted."

Bobby stared at the guy as he asked, "Which part?"

"Bahrain; its-"

"I know it. It's an island next to Saudi Arabia," Bobby said as he looked down at the table. It was very, very nice looking. "You were in the Navy?"

Gene smiled as he said, "Yeah. You?"

He shook his head as he said, "Army, but I knew a couple of sailors who were stationed there. I dropped by a few times to party with them when I was on leave. So, how much?"

"I got the whole set for $2,500; I'll sell it to you for a thousand."

Bobby eyed Gene and then the table. He looked over at Alex who was looking at him. "A thousand, that's not bad."

"We can half it," she said as her cell started to ring.

"We still have to get a bedframe," he reminded her.

Alex smiled over at the seller as she flipped her phone open, saying, "We'll take it," before putting the phone to her ear. "Eames."

Bobby looked over at Gene as he asked, "You deliver?"

"Of course. Would you like to see my selection of bedframes?"

"It depends; are they also a thousand?" he seriously asked as he started for the row of bedframes a couple of feet away.

Gene told him as they stopped at a bed, "Some are more, others less."

Bobby looked around at all the beds and walked over to the one he liked. "How about this one?"

"That's more."

He crossed his arms and nodded. Figures, he thought as he stared at the bedframe. Bobby didn't mind spending money on some things, like his suits and shoes. He wore those and he couldn't stand a cheap suit. But, his bed was in his room. The only one who saw it was him and Alex. Sure, he wanted a great mattress; he went all out for the mattress. However, a frame was just that, a frame. Spending over a thousand for one was too much for his liking. Yet alone two thousand.

Alex walked over and said, "I've got to go."

Bobby turned and saw the apologetic look on her face. "A case?"

"Yeah. Logan is meeting me there." Alex looked over at the bed he'd been eyeing. "No."

"Why not?"

"I like that one," she said, pointing to the one on the far end of the row.

Bobby looked over at it and shrugged, saying, "It's all right, I guess. How much for that one?"

"It's $1,500."

Rubbing at his head, he turned to Alex and asked, "Well, what'd you think?"

Alex sighed and said, "A thousand plus fifteen hundred…divided by two."

"We're both out $1,250," he said as he quickly did the math in his head. Bobby saw the look in her eyes and quickly gave a nod, "All right. Let's uh…pay and arrange for the delivery. Then I'll drive you."

They quickly paid, filled out a delivery order form and got their receipts. Ten minutes later, they were in his car headed to the east side of the city. "Where's the scene?"

"Jefferson Park, East Harlem; building 241," Alex told him.

Bobby glanced over at her and saw the look on her face. "What is it?"

"The couple who were murdered was Stanley Mendez and his wife, Rose."

Bobby worked those names over in his head. "Stanley…he's one of us; a crime scene tech. His wife Rose is a court reporter for Judge Hartman." He was quiet a moment before telling her, "He was a good guy."

"You knew them?" she asked.

"Not Rose, no, but Stan," he said in disbelief at Stan being murdered as he drove around Central Park. "He was a newbie when I worked Narco. He liked to play poker. I invited him to join me and my buddies for a game a few times. Once I got to Major Case though, he and Rose got married and he stopped going. I haven't really talked to him in years, but…I would see him every so often at a scene. We would, you know, say hi…chat a little…" he trailed off as he shook his head.

"We'll get who did this, Bobby."

He looked over her and smiled slightly at her confidence. "I know you will."

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the apartment building that was swarmed with police issued vehicles. Bobby spotted the CSU van and saw the grim looks on the techs faces as they had to process the death of one of their own. Turning to Alex, he leaned over and gave her a kiss before she opened the door. "Good luck, babe."

"Thanks," she said as she kissed him back. Opening the door, she got out of the car and grabbed her purse.

Alex wasn't dressed in work clothes since they were supposed to have the day off; she was wearing a black skirt with a sky blue blouse. She didn't look like a cop at all. Bobby noticed a couple of uniforms looking her way, checking her out as she leaned over to grab her purse. He felt his blood rush through him at the looks and felt like parking the car so he could get out and beat the shit out of them.

Alex noticed his change in mood as she looked over toward the stoop where the cops were standing. Turning back to him, she said, "Jealous?"

"You're a detective, a Sergeant no less, they should have some respect," he said as she stepped back and shut the door.

"They're men; I'm used to it."

"I'm not," he muttered as he glared at the uniforms as Alex moved away from the car. "Be careful."

Alex gave him a wave as she started for the doors. One of the officers held the door for her and watched her walk in before shutting it.

Bobby's hand twitched along with his jaw as he shifted gears and sped away from the building. Since his day was ruined by Alex being called in, he figured he could stop by the 16th Precinct and see what was going on. Maybe he could help on a case or finish up some of the paperwork for his own.

241 E. 144th Street

Apartment 4C

Alex showed her shield to the uniform at the door and gave her name and badge number before going in. The whole apartment was being processed as she grabbed a pair of booties to put over her heels before heading down the hall to the bedroom. A couple of techs looked her way, she nodded at them, giving them weak smiles before looking away and focusing on the job.

There were a couple of techs in the bedroom as she entered. Stopping just short of the bed, Alex sucked in a breath as she took in the scene. Blood was everywhere; on the walls, the ceiling, and soaked into the mattress under the body of Rose Mendez. Her husband Stan was tied to a chair next to the bed. Where Rose had been repeatedly stabbed, Stan had been shot once in the head. Kill shot.

She took in the restraints; flex-cuffs, and the duct tape over the husbands mouth. Looking toward the bed from her position at the chair, she realized that the killer wanted the husband to watch. Swallowing around the tight lump in her throat, she pushed her emotions aside as she asked the officer on scene, "So, what'd you know?"

Officer Levin filled her in about Anthony Ames and the superintendent, Martin Jaffey, finding the bodies. Ames was another CSI; he worked with Mendez. They were supposed to leave that afternoon for a conference in Washington. It was arranged that Ames would pick Mendez up and drive them both to the airport since Mendez didn't have a car. When no one answered, Ames got the super to unlock the door to the apartment.

"Where are they now?" she asked as she heard Logan's voice down the hall.

"They're in the super's apartment. I've got one of my guys watching them," Levin told her before he was excused.

Logan walked by the officer and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "How's it goin', Brian?"

"I'm alright, Mike."

Logan stopped inside the door and let out a breath, "Holy…mother," he whispered as he looked at the bed then around the room. "Looks like a horror movie set in here."

"Too bad it's real," she said as she pointed to the victims. "She was stabbed, he was shot."

"And made to watch," Logan nodded toward the chair. "Poor guy."

"With the setup, and how Mrs. Mendez was tortured, I think she was the main target."

"Sounds right," Logan said as he walked around the room and took in the blood. "Spatter's everywhere. The killer was in a rage."

Alex looked up and saw the M.E., Elizabeth Rogers walk in.

"Detectives," she said as she sat her kit down and got to work on the bodies. "Congratulations, Eames; I heard Goren proposed yesterday."

Alex smiled over at her. "Yeah, thanks."

A few minutes later, Rogers told them, "I'm placing time of death 24 hours ago."

"This time yesterday?" Logan asked as he looked down at her.

Rogers stared up at him and said, "Uh, like I said, 24 hours."

Logan smirked at her tone as he took off his gloves. "I'm going to see if anyone heard anything. Middle of the day on a Saturday, I'm betting no one heard a thing," he told her as he left the bedroom.

Alex grabbed a pair of gloves, blew in them, and then slipped them on. As Rogers moved away, she moved in on the body and did something that normally Bobby would do; she picked up her hands and took a look at them. There were skin cells and blood under the nails. She wasn't sure if they were from the killer or if it was her own, but she told the CSI to bag the hands anyway.

Tossing the gloves, she went out into the living room and got Officer Levin to go down to the super's apartment with her to talk to the two men who found them.

Special Victim's Unit

16th Precinct, Manhattan

The moment he walked in a chorus of clapping started, which was initiated by Fin and Munch. Bobby felt his face heat as he shook his head at his fellow detectives. As he walked over to his desk, he realized he was smiling.

"So are we invited to the wedding, big man?" Fin asked from across the room. That had been a nickname Fin started to call him a few weeks ago and it seemed to have stuck.

"Uh, it's going to be small, immediate family and close...friends," he said as he grabbed a file out of the top drawer of his desk. On the drive over he remembered he had to make copies of a report. "But everyone's invited to the reception."

"And when is this going to happen?" Benson asked as she walked in carrying a bag of food.

"Memorial Day weekend," he told her as he went over to the copy machine. Bobby made several copies and as he waited for them to print off, he walked over and got himself a cup of coffee.

"Just couldn't stay away from us, could you Goren," said Garcia as he walked by him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You have to come in your day off."

"I bet Eames is driving him crazy with wedding plans. Am I right," Munch asked. "She going all Martha Stewart on you, wanting Lilac Lilly's and champagne cake."

Bobby gave Munch a look and asked, "Is that what your three ex-wives do?" as he took a sip of coffee.

"Oh, the big man cracking jokes," Fin started laughing as Munch turned to him.

"That's not funny. I was in love," Munch said dramatically as he grabbed at his shirt, over his heart. "I gave them my heart, and they stomped on it."

He grabbed the copies from the machine, and made sure to take the original off the scanner, before walking back over to his desk.

Benson came over with a file for him and asked, "She catch a case?"

"Yeah," he said as he took the file and dropped it on his desk. "Stan Mendez and his wife."

"We heard," she said as she sat down on the edge of his desk. "One of our own, and I heard his wife was a court reporter."

"Judge Hartman," he said in way of confirming what she'd heard.

"Let's hope it's not a trend."

Bobby glanced up at her as he gave a grim nod. He finished filing the reports away and was about to head out to grab something to eat when Cragen stormed out of his office.

"Benson, Goren!"

He looked over at her as she looked at him; as they approached the office, he said, "Your fault."

Benson knocked him on the arm as she went ahead of him and muttered back, "Nah-huh, this one's yours."

Bobby smirked as he turned to shut the door; once he faced Cragen, his humor was gone and he was all business.

"We just got a 10-32 come in; officers are on scene now."

"Why isn't the child being taken to the hospital yet?" Benson asked.

"The kid's scared, hiding in the closet and won't come out. They haven't even been able to confirm if the claim is verified. Get there just in case. Here's the address," Cragen said as he held out a piece of paper to her.

Benson took it and headed for the door. She stopped and turned back, asking, "If Goren hadn't come in-"

"I would've given it to John and Fin," Cragen said as he sat down behind his desk.

She smiled over at him as she opened the door; pointing at him, she said, "Your fault."

Bobby grabbed the door to hold it open for her to go through; turning to Cragen, he said, "It is my off day, Captain."

"That's why I gave it to you. I take it you have no suit to change into?" he asked as he gestured to what he was wearing. "You're not even wearing socks."

"It's Sunday, and I'm technically off," he said again as he left the office and grabbed his gun out of his locker. Putting it on his belt, Bobby followed Benson outside where she got behind the wheel of the department issue SUV.

Since it was so nice outside, they rolled down the windows instead of turning on the A/C. Bobby pulled his sunglasses out of his breast pocket and slipped them on. "I'm so glad winter's over. I thought the cold would never go away."

"I hear ya. It did seem to last longer than usual," Benson said as she turned North. "It's in Harlem."

"Stop up here on 42nd. I want to get something to eat."

"What's on 42nd?"

Bobby looked over at her as he said, "Joe's Smokehouse."

Benson glanced over at him and nodded. "Get me a sweat tea. They're the best."

She pulled over to park and he quickly jumped out and headed up to the vendor. "Afternoon, Joe," Bobby said as he stepped up to the window.

At seeing him, the old man smiled, "Bobby, where ya at. What can I get for you?"

Bobby placed his order of a barbecue pulled-pork sandwich, a side of coleslaw and fries, and two sweat teas. Getting his drinks first, he took them over to the SUV and handed one through the window to Benson then the other before going back to grab his food.

"Fry," he asked as he held out the takeout box.

Benson grabbed a couple as she stopped at a light. "Want to take the kid while I deal with the parents?"

He took a bite out of his sandwich and gave a nod. "I'm not good with the parents."

"I've noticed," she said as she snagged a few more of his fries. "You intimidate the hell out of them. I thought Elliot was bad. You just stare at them and they clam up."

Looking over at her, he said, "I'll try not to stare."

"By all means, stare all you want, it's amusing to see them squirm." Benson looked over at him and saw him staring at her. "Not at me, you ass," she said with a chuckle while reaching over to push his face away.

He started laughing as he went back to finishing his meal.

145 West 118th Street

Harlem

Bobby saw the cop cars parked outside the building as they pulled up. Getting out, he immediately took his shield off his belt and clipped it on his breast pocket. Looking around, he saw people walking up and down the sidewalk across the street. Some looked over as others were too busy to care. There was a church next door to the building, St. John Baptist.

Heading up to the stoop, he greeted one of the first officers on scene. Officer Reynolds pointed up the stairs, "2A."

"Where are the parents," Benson asked as he stepped inside and headed up the steps.

"They're still in the apartment."

At hearing that, Bobby stopped midway up the steps and turned around. "Why?"

"We haven't confirmed-"

"It's no wonder the kid doesn't want to come out," Benson said as she started up the steps after him.

As they approached the door to the apartment, he heard fighting, man and woman.

"You fucking bitch! You're the one who did this! Crack whore, running around on me with-"

"Crack whore?" the woman yelled. "Fuck you, you fucking pig."

The second officer, who he would assume to be Officer Reynolds partner, was on his radio informing dispatch of the escalating fight that was quickly turning into a domestic.

Bobby stepped inside, hand on gun, and saw the two parents nose to nose, pointing and screaming. The woman was nearly naked, only in her underwear and a thin robe that wasn't even tied. The man was bare down to his waist, only wearing a pair of baggy jeans; the belt was undone and his zipper was down.

The moment the man threw a fist, Bobby had him around the arms as Benson rushed to restrain the woman. He slammed the man to the floor and held him there as he pulled out his cuffs. The woman at first started going after her husband, then Bobby felt a kick on his back and saw her coming after him.

"Get off him! Leave my man alone," she yelled as she tried to kick him again.

Benson grabbed the woman up and pulled her back with the help of fellow officer. They all three stumbled and hit the end table and tumbled to the floor.

Bobby got the second cuff on the man's hand as he struggled under him while cussing him out. "Benson?"

"I got her down!" she called back to him. "She's secure."

"Yeah, him too," he said as he got up and grabbed the man up by his arms, making the tension worse on the husband's shoulders.

Benson turned to him as she got the woman up off the floor. She was huffing and her lip was bleeding but she was fine. "I'll handle these two."

He nodded as he took a breath and turned toward the hallway. The first room was the bathroom with a rustic tub and chipped paint. There were bath toys such as small boats and sponges in shapes of animals, along with race cars and GI Joe soldiers.

The next room was the kid's bedroom. It had bare walls that had pencil and crayon drawings over the bottom quarter, as far as the kid could reach. Toys were also littered around the floor. There was a small mattress, not much bigger than for a baby in the corner with nothing on it. Stepping inside, he opened the closet and looked in.

Huddled in the back, hiding under the thin batman sheet that should be on the bed, was a little boy no older than four or five and no bigger than a child much younger. Kneeling down, Bobby sat down on the carpeted floor, feeling the sharp pull nannie back from where he'd been kicked, and watched the boy for a long moment. The kid had yet to look up at him, his head was buried into the sheet that was wrapped around his knees.

He heard someone come in behind him and glanced behind him. Benson leaned down and whispered to him, "Kid's name is Colton. Mother is Desiree Collins, maiden name Richards, stepfather is Rory Collins."

Bobby gave a nod as he turned back to watching Colton. "Give us a minute," he whispered back to Benson. He felt a hand on his shoulder before she left. Addressing the boy, he said in a gentle voice, "You like Batman?"

Colton barely moved as he peered over the top of his knees at him. He nodded but didn't say anything.

Bobby could see the swelling and start of a deep bruise beside his left eye. His jaw twitched but that was the only indication to the rage he felt toward the parents; not just to the man who did it, but the mother as well. She knew and did nothing, or worse. "I do too. He's a good guy."

"Superhero."

Bobby smiled. "Do you know who Batman's friends are?"

"Robin," Colton told him.

"And police officers...I'm a police officer." He unclipped his shield from the breast pocket of his shirt and showed it to him. The boy's eyes widened slightly before he looked back at him. Holding it out further, he said, "Want to hold onto it for me?"

Colton looked back at the badge and tentatively reached out and took it. He quickly pulled it to his chest and then looked down at it. Then, in a soft voice asked, "Did you take my mommy?"

"I arrested both of them, your mom and dad."

Colton looked over toward the wall and said, "He's not my daddy."

Bobby nodded in agreement. The more he talked to Colton, the more he knew the kid wasn't as young as he appeared. "Colton, how old are you?"

He held up fingers on both hands. Bobby's chest hurt as he saw seven. The kid didn't look seven...He was so, small. "I'm going to tell you some things, Colton, okay, and if you're okay with it, I want you to let me know."

Colton looked down at the badge in his hand and gave a nod.

"I'm going to wait out here, okay? And whenever you're ready, I want you to come out."

Colton looked up at him and hesitated as he bit on his lip. He nodded.

"Then I'm going to take you to a hospital where a very good and nice doctor is going to help you feel better, okay?"

Again, Colton hesitated but this time he shook his head.

"I'll be there with you," he told him.

He swallowed hard and Bobby saw fear enter the boys eyes as he started to shake and cry. Colton nodded.

"It'll be okay," Bobby tried to reassure him. "When you're ready..." He knew that he would wait all night if he had too. The last thing he was going to do was reach in and pull him out. Just the imagine that brought to mind pissed him off.

Colton would never trust him again if he did that.

He sat there for a good five minutes before Colton started to move forward. He scooted over the carpet, grimacing, and when he got close enough, whispered to him, "I need pants."

Bobby looked into the closet, to the spot the boy was sitting, and felt his stomach turn at seeing the blood. "Okay," he said as he got up and went to the dresser. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants since they were looser, and went back over to him. "Be careful, go slow when you put them on."

Colton shook his head as he softly asked as the tears kept coming. "You do it, please?" as his voice started to tremble.

He closed his eyes as he had to fight back his own tears before helping the kid. Keeping the sheet wrapped around him, he carried him out of the apartment and to the awaiting ambulance.

Bobby told the EMT to wait for him before walking over to the patrol car where Rory Collins was being held.

"Bobby," Benson called out to him. "Bobby, don't-"

He opened the back passenger door to the cop car and leaned in, pressing his forearm right into Rory's neck. "A kid, a seven year old boy," he pushed harder, causing Rory to choke. "I got you, you hear me. I got you. Sexual abuse on a child that age, you're going away for life." He felt someone grab him and pull him back. It was Benson. Releasing him, he stepped back as he slammed the door shut. "Life," he nearly growled as he kicked the door.

Benson pushed him away, toward the ambulance as she said, "What'd you think you're doing?"

"I didn't hit him."

"But you wanted to," she snapped back.

"No," he said as he turned around and saw the EMTs watching him. "I wanted to kill him." Bobby got into the back and shut one of the doors.

Benson grabbed the other before the EMT could close it. "What hospital?"

"Methodist," the EMT told her.

She gave him a look and sighed, saying, "I'll be right behind you."

Bobby gave a nod, still too angry to say anything, especially in front of the kid. Colton stared over at him and held out his hand. In it was his gold shield. Looking up at the boy, he told him, "Keep it until we get to the hospital."

Colton smiled slightly as he pulled it back to his chest and held onto it with both hands.

Major Case Squad

Alex leaned against the back of the elevator with her arms crossed and watched the numbers ascend up to the eleventh floor. Rogers wouldn't be able to get to the victims until tomorrow so the autopsy results were on hold. There wasn't much she could do now. Forensics so far had come up empty, not a single hair or footprint, or fingerprint was found in that apartment's bedroom. The killer had cleaned up before he left.

She had helped Logan to interview the neighbors; no one heard or saw a thing. They canvassed the area, trying to find someone with a security camera pointed that way. Nada; they didn't have a single lead. Shaking her head in annoyance, she got off the elevator and walked down the hall to the squad room.

Logan was at his desk, the one that used to be Bobby's, flipping through the crime scene photos. "The killer cleaned up."

"I know. There wasn't a single print found in the bedroom, not even ones belonging to the victims."

He tossed the photos down as he looked over at her. "A pro. He's not new to this."

"Or he's watched too many forensic shows," Alex said as she typed in her password into the laptop. "For all we know, he could be a cop."

"Don't say that," Logan said as he leaned back in the chair. "I'm sick of dealing with crooked cops. Anything else from forensics?"

"I didn't say it was, only that it could be." She brought up the system and started searching for similar MO's. "And it's five o'clock on a Sunday night, what'd you think? We're not going to hear back from forensics for at least another day. Prints are easy, they're either there or they're not."

"My, aren't you the snippy one today," Logan said with an attitude as he got up from the desk. "Guess you got pretty hammered last night to be this grumpy."

Alex turned in her chair to face him. "Excuse me."

Logan stopped at the break room door and turned to her saying, "You heard me. You're being bitchy because you're hung over."

Alex got up and followed him; closing the door behind her, she said, "What's your problem."

"I don't have a problem," he said as he bought a soda from the machine.

"I think you calling me a bitch is a problem."

Logan turned around and said, "I didn't say you were a bitch, Eames, I said you were being bitchy. There's a difference. And I could care less if you're hung over. You weren't even supposed to be on call today."

"Then what's with the attitude, Logan?"

"My attitude? What about yours?" he nearly yelled.

The door opened and they looked over to see Captain Deakins staring at the both of them. Pointing at them, he said, "My office...now."

She glared over at Logan as she crossed her arms and follows Deakins to his office. Once they were all inside, door and blinds shut, Alex watched as Deakins paced around. He was out of his suit, ready to go home for the day, and he was rolling a baseball around in his hand.

Alex looked over to Logan who was leaning against the table, waiting. No one spoke for a long time, and then Deakins finally spoke.

"Two months. I've been listening to you two bicker, fight, and get into yelling matches for two months!" Deakins turned to her then looked over at Logan. "It's going to stop, tonight, or I'm reassigning partners. Logan, I'll put you with Barek, and Eames you'll be in charge of the new guy, Stidham." He glared at the both of them before going over to the door saying, "Your choice. Let me know in the morning."

Alex watched as Deakins left the squad room before addressing Logan, "Have fun with Barek."

As she turned to leave, Logan said, "Wait."

She turned back to him and shook her head. "There's nothing you can say, Logan."

Logan walked over to her, saying, "This has nothing to do with the job."

"Just the way I choose to protect my boyfriend."

Logan stared down at her as he said, "You're going to marry him without ever telling him-"

"He doesn't need-"

"You're okay with starting your marriage off with keeping secrets?"

"What's it to you? I'm not marrying you, and you aren't Bobby," she snapped. "You think he doesn't have secrets he's keeping from me? Everybody has secrets, some they share and others they take to their graves. I'm willing to take this to mine. It's not hurting him."

"It will," he countered. "Once he finds out that you've been keeping this from him, it'll kill him, and worse, it'll kill his trust in you." Logan shook his head and moved around her, saying, "But if you can live with it, then go ahead, Eames, do what you want." He opened the door and left the office.

Alex shook her head and went over to her desk; she piled everything into her file, shutdown the laptop, and then left.

Special Victims Unit

It wasn't until after seven when they returned back to the department. Their shift was over so he didn't bother with the paperwork, knowing nothing could be done with it until tomorrow anyway. Looking toward Cragen's office, he didn't see him. Feeling the need course through his body, he paced around as he saw Benson watching him.

"It was a tough case," she told him as she sat down on the edge of her desk. "You were great with Colton. You kept him calm through everything."

"I don't need you to do that," he said as he rubbed his hand over his neck. "And I know it's the job; we see things every day that no one else does. This is it, you know, our lives. But, sometimes, no amount of professionalism is going to keep me from feeling like...like taking my gun out and shooting somebody."

"But we don't," she calmly told him as she walked over to him. "There's nothing else we can do tonight, Bobby. Go home, I'll finish up here."

He stared at her for a moment before giving a nod. "If you see the Captain tonight, tell him to give me a call."

Bobby, weeks ago during a stakeout for their last case, had apologized to Olivia. He'd remembered his behavior, how irritable and dismissive he'd been toward her and her friendship. It was part of the program, making amends. She found out that night that he was in AA, and Cragen was his sponsor. It was best she knew anyway since they were also partners.

She frowned at him as she asked, "You're not going to drink, are you?"

He started walking toward the doors as he told her, "I'm not planning on it, doesn't mean I don't want to."

"Don't go to a bar," she called out.

Bobby waved his hand over his shoulder as he left. He used the stairs, trying to burn off some of his restless energy, and pushed open the doors. Heading down the sidewalk, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and started walking. His car was parked next to the precinct but he didn't feel like driving. He needed to walk, to think, and to try and fight the urge to drown his pain and mind at the bottom of a bottle of really good scotch.

Pulling out his pack of gum, he put one in his mouth, chewed it over a few times, and then spit it out. It wasn't helping. He wanted to smoke, to drink, and to bury everything so deep inside it disappeared into darkness; the darkness that still lived and seethed within the depths of his soul. The more he remembered, the more it grew and threatened to swallow him whole.

But he wasn't willing to surrender to the darkness. He'd given into it for far too long. He'd been living there since he was child, and now as a man he had to find somewhere else to live. The darkness was killing him.

He saw the blue neon sign and walked by it before stopping. Feeling his chest ache, his thoughts running the scene from earlier over and over in his head, he turned back and opened the door. The bar was well lit and scarce of patrons since it was Sunday night. Pulling out a stool, he sat down and rubbed at his head as it throbbed.

Taking a deep breath, he found himself asking for help to no one or thing in particular, just help. He needed the strength to not give in, to not surrender.

"Want would you like?" the bartender asked as he stepped over to him.

Bobby looked up, rubbing at his jaw and scratching at the hair growth. Looking at all the bottles of alcohol and the voice of Colton in his head, he felt his hands start to shake. Then his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Holding up a finger, he pulled it out and flipped it open, "Goren."

"Are you in a bar?"

He sighed and closed his eyes as he gave a nod into the phone. "Yeah."

Cragen was quiet for a moment before telling him, "I had a case years ago, I'd been sober for four months and feeling pretty good about it. I thought I was over the temptation. I was cocky enough to think that after four months I'd beaten it, beaten my demons, but then Lisa Shea was murdered. She was four years old…It was a tough case. The worst murder scene I think I've ever seen, and it still haunts me even now. See, I could never prove who did it. I know who it was, so did my partner at the time, but the guy wouldn't give it up and we didn't have any solid evidence. But we knew. Every time I think about it, about her, I want to drink. It's been over twenty years and every day I tell myself that I don't want to go back to day one. I can't go back to day one."

Bobby shook his head and banged it on the bar, causing a couple of customers to look over at him. He felt the anguish in him start to break as he said, "He was only seven, Captain."

"And he's one of many," Cragen said. "And you did all you could. You got him out of there; he's going to heal, Bobby. He's going to get better and he's going to grow up. He's resilient, and he will survive. Just like you will." He was quiet for a moment before asking, "Do you want to go back to day one?"

"No," he said as he lifted his head.

"Then leave the bar. Go home to Alex," he told him.

Bobby nodded as he said, "Okay."

"I'll see you in the morning," Cragen said before hanging up.

He snapped his phone shut and put it into his pocket. Rubbing at his head, he heard the bartender ask again if he wanted anything. His voice shook slightly as he asked, "What, uh, non-alcoholic beer do you got?"

"O'Doul's."

Bobby frowned but nodded without saying anything.

The bartender got it for him and as he placed it in front of him, said, "Good for you."

Bobby glanced up at the guy as he took a sip.

"Ten years sober; hang in there, it does get easier," the bartender told him before walking away.

Picking the drink up, Bobby walked over to the jukebox and searched through the selection. He wasn't ready to go home yet. Spotting a song he loved, and had always felt a connection to; he put in some change and pressed the corresponding letter and number for the song choice.

Sitting down at a table, he leaned back and listened. He wasn't sure what the singer/songwriter had in mind when he wrote the song, but right then Bobby felt it was about addiction…his addiction.

"They're lining up to mad dog your tilt-a-whirl; three shots for a dollar, win a real live doll. All the lies that you tell, I believed them so well."

Bobby closed his eyes as he thought of all the lies he'd told himself, to others, specifically about his drinking habits. In order to fully overcome his addiction, he knew he had to be completely honest with himself, no matter how much it hurt.

"…that fearful leap into the dark; I did my time in the jail of your arms…"

The line always got him. He felt his body shake as he thought that the arms that were confining him against his will belonged to his addiction. And he did his time at the bottom of the bottle, and he was free now. But like any prisoner set free after years and years of being confined, freedom was a scary thing. The freedom was more terrifying than the imprisonment.

"Do you cry, do you pray? Do you wish them away? Do you still leave nothing but bones in the way?"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he shook his head at the thoughts running through them. His mind was no longer occupied by Colton, but by his own demons. The ones he prayed and wished would leave him and stay gone. The ones that always seemed to help him ruin every good thing in his life; the demons he wrestled with and yelled out and tried to beat down every time they surfaced. Only this time, he didn't like he was burning his bridges, but building new ones.

"And just who are you this time? You look rather tired. Are you pretending to love? Well I hear that it pays well. How do your pistol and your Bible and your sleeping pills go? Are you still jumping out of windows in expensive clothes?"

He downed the rest of the bottle as he got up. If he didn't leave now he was afraid he would go back to zero, day one, and he couldn't have that. He was better than that, because Alex believed he was worth it. And she was going to marry him.

"You better get down on the floor, don't you know this is war?"

He sat the empty bottle on the bar as he passed, and thinking that he'd won today's battle with his addiction. The song was right, this was war; and he was planning on winning it.

"Tell me who are you this time?"

Bobby pushed open the door as the end of the song drifted out onto the sidewalk with him as he headed back down the sidewalk toward the precinct and to his car.

"Tell me who are you this time?"

Bobby & Alex's Apartment

Greenpoint, Brooklyn

He was surprised to not see Alex's car when he parked. It was after nine, almost ten, and she wasn't home yet and hadn't called. Bobby got out and grabbed the brown paper bag and went up the steps to his apartment. It was silent inside, Alex's bird wasn't even chirping. Pulling a bottle out of the bag he sat on the table, he walked into the living room and saw Polly eating its food.

Twisting off the cap, he went back into the kitchen and pulled the six-pack out of the bag then opened his back door. Sitting on the steps, he started to drink as he waited for Alex to get home.

He was on his third when the headlights to her car shone up at him as she parked. Bobby watched as Alex got out and hit the button to lock the doors and activate the alarm. She turned around and spotted him. The heaviness he'd seen in her posture, and the sadness in her eyes, eased up as she smiled. Walking up to him, she slid onto his lap as he held his arms open for her.

Burying his face in her neck, he kissed it. "Rough day?"

"Yeah, you?"

He gave a nod as he offered her a bottle of Erdinger Weissbier NA. She twisted the cap off and took a sip. Bobby let her relax into him before inquiring where she'd been, even though he had a pretty good idea. "Where were you?"

"My parents."

"How're they?" he asked as he brought the bottle up to take a sip.

Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. "My mom's blood pressure isn't going down and the strain on her heart and brain is getting worse. They have another appointment tomorrow."

They were afraid of another stroke, one would be irreparable, but her mother's health could also cause a heart attack.

"And what about your dad?"

Alex sighed and shook her head. "He's getting bad. The worry and fear of losing her is slowly killing him. He's drinking more than usual and I'm afraid that when she does go, he's not going to be too far behind her."

Bobby wrapped his arms tighter around her as he felt her start to shake slightly. Alex was strong. The strongest person he'd ever met, but he knew as with himself, it didn't matter how strong a person was, everyone needed help at some point. Alex needed his help just as much as he needed hers.

Rubbing his hand along her leg, he told her, "I had a rough day too. I caught this case of a child…seven year old boy who'd been abused by his step-father. It…it was uh…terrible. I lost my temper with the guy."

Alex looked at him and he saw the question in her eyes.

"I didn't hit him or anything." Bobby finished the third bottle and tossed it into the trash can next to the steps. "I was tempted to drink. I wanted to drink so badly. I uh, I went to a bar down the street. I just, I wanted to drown it, soak the memories in scotch…kill the pain, and to go back to living in denial…"

"But you didn't," Alex said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, "you came home."

He smiled as he kissed her back. "I thought about you, and I knew I couldn't let myself go back to that misery. Drinking kills all the good things…and I'm really starting to love the good things, Alex."

She kissed him again and he felt his body respond vigorously to it. He brought his hands up under her shirt, feeling her soft skin, and his desire grew. Alex worked her tongue into his mouth and ravished it as he cupped a breast and feeling her squirm on top of him.

Breaking the kiss, she told him, "Let's go inside."

Bobby grabbed her and lifted her up with him as he stood. Going into the apartment, he kicked the backdoor shut.

TBC…

P.S. For those curious, the song is "Who Are You" by Tom Waits.