Alex did not get out her journal Friday night after reading Bobby's letter. She went about her weekend, getting done things that needed to be done. She cleaned the house and went grocery shopping, did some yard work, washed her car-mindless tasks that allowed her to focus her thoughts on the letter she had just received.

By Sunday afternoon, she still wasn't certain how she felt about what he'd written, but she got out her journal and sat at the dining table with a plate of chicken parmesan, a dish that always made her think of him.

September 6, 2010

Dear Bobby,

I got your letter Friday and I've read it over and over. Then I thought about it, which I admit is more like you than me, but you gave me a lot to think about. I am not sure which I prefer—your brief, sober letters, or this more rambling, inebriated one. I think I'll have to vote for the longer one, not because it was more informative, although I certainly appreciated that, but because it was honest, which I appreciated more.

So one of the women deployed with you is interested in you? I hope I am not wrong with my impression that you do not seem to be interested in her. You have this way of glossing over things you are uncomfortable discussing, and I'm going to guess you are uncomfortable addressing the topic of other women with me. I don't know whether I should feel reassured because you really aren't interested in her or upset because you're feeling guilty that you are. I have known you long enough to know the kind of man you are and the kind of man you are not. But I am also fully aware that you made no commitment to me and thus are still free to be with anyone you choose. Unfortunately, I cannot promise you I wouldn't be hurt and angry, but to be fair, we did kind of leave things up in the air. As a final note on the subject, let me just say, if you really were serious about your desire to be with me, I trust you and your strong moral fiber to resist temptation, however lonely you are or however sexy she might be.

I am definitely not the culinary adventurer you are. First guinea pig, now agouti and monkey? Monkey, of all things! And I really don't think I could stomach drinking beer that I knew someone else had spit in. That, I assume, is the reaction that so amused you, and you weren't wrong. I always knew you were a brave man, but monkey meat and masticated beer? Uh, no, thanks. I think I'll pass. I'm happy with the chicken parmesan I'm having for dinner tonight.

After your last two birthdays, I was amazed to read that this year wasn't so bad for you. Maybe the change of scenery has done you some good. I know we aren't partners any more, but I do wonder, if you were here, would you still have called me this year? In my heart, I hope you would have. I find encouragement in the idea that you were thinking about me...which kind of gives rise to my own uncertainty. Were you really thinking of me, Bobby? You are a world class manipulator, telling people what you know they want to hear so you can get what you want from them. I've seen you do that dance so many times I know it by heart, and yet, in all the years I've known you, you've never tried to pull that crap on me. Maybe it was because I knew you so well, and because you always knew how furious I would be if you tried it. I prefer to think it was because you respected me enough not to treat me like a suspect. In reality, it's probably some combination of it all, but the bottom line is...you have never tried to deceive me that way. I hope that hasn't changed. Maybe you really were thinking of me.

I looked up yellow fever, dengue and malaria. I suppose tropical paradises, like beautiful roses, wouldn't be complete without their thorns. Just try not to impale yourself on the thorns. I will be honest—I don't like the idea that you have no clue when you'll be able to come home. But that doesn't mean I won't be here, waiting for you, when you get back. I've been waiting for ten years-what's a few more months? Although I don't care for this enforced separation, I can't help but think it's been good for us. I have relived our last meeting over and over again in my mind, and I get so much comfort from that memory. I know I told you that I would go out with you if I am still free, but who am I kidding? After that kiss and your parting words, along with memories ten years in the making...of course I will wait for you. I ask only one thing in return. Just come home.

Tomorrow I will be facing what I am sure will be a very uncomfortable family gathering. While I am perfectly within my rights to decline the dates my siblings try to set up for me, it's torture for me to keep my mouth shut about the possibility of us. I certainly do not want to jinx it before it ever begins by saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, although I did let slip to my sister that maybe she was wrong about my personal life and that maybe I already had someone. I don't know what made me say that other than it would get her off my case. Of course, now the entire family may be waiting for me to produce this someone and I'm not sure what to do about that. Maybe Logan would be willing to help me out.

She paused in her writing to give that some thought. Maybe Logan would be willing to help her.

I think I'll give him a call. I know that you are friends, so maybe he will be a good enough friend to give me a hand without expecting the wrong thing in return. I suppose it's your turn to trust me, whether you know it or not. Stay well, Bobby, and keep safe.

Love,

Alex

She closed the journal and set it aside, finishing the last bites of her dinner. After washing her plate, she dried her hands and picked up her phone. She hesitated a moment more, gathering her thoughts, before she dialed Logan's number.

"Will you look at that?" he said when he answered the phone. "A second call in the same weekend. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

"I need a favor. Are you busy tomorrow?"

"Is this another date?"

"Logan..."

"Okay, okay. What do you need?"

She hesitated for a moment, deciding she needed to see his face to ask this particular favor. "Meet me for a drink at O'Reilly's on First Avenue," she said. "I'll see you in forty-five minutes."

"Suppose I have plans?"

"Do you?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Good. I'll see you then."

She closed the phone, got ready and left before she had a chance to change her mind.

Logan was waiting for her when she got there, and she knew it was curiosity that drove him to be there. His expression was eager as she slid into the booth opposite him. "So, what's up?" he asked.

She ordered a margarita and toyed with the coaster the barmaid left for her. "This is a big favor, Mike."

"So ask and I'll decide how big it is."

"Ever since Bobby and I left the force, my family seems to think it's about time I found another man to settle down with. I no longer have the excuse of my job to keep me from making a commitment. So they've been trying to find someone for me."

"And you don't like their choices?"

"It's not just that. I simply haven't been interested in finding someone else."

Logan hesitated while the barmaid delivered her drink. Then he quietly said, "Because you're hung up on Goren."

"A couple of months ago, I would have vehemently denied that."

"But now?"

"But now, yeah, I guess I am. He told me that he loved me, but then he didn't wait around for me to answer. So I didn't have a chance to tell him I would wait for him. I agreed to see him if I was available when he comes back. So he doesn't expect me to wait, but I will. Sometimes I just want to throttle him, but then I remember some random, stupid, little thing he said or did, and all I want to do is hug him. He drives me crazy, even when he's thousands of miles away."

Logan was quiet for a moment before he asked, "When did you know?"

She looked confused. "Know what?"

"That you were in love with him."

She had no idea Logan was so perceptive. Slowly she shook her head. "I have no idea when it happened or how. I just know that it did."

"And the favor?"

There was no getting around it. She had to ask. "You are the only man I trust enough to do this, Mike, because you're Bobby's friend. Tomorrow, my folks are having their annual family barbecue, and I let it slip to my sister that maybe I was seeing someone, which is kind of the truth. But if I'm going to keep them off my back, I have to produce someone, and I'm not comfortable putting Bobby out there until I'm sure about us. Besides, I think he's the last person they want to see me with right now. Could you go with me and kind of throw them off the scent?"

He laughed. "Is that all? And here I thought it was gonna be a big favor."

"That is a big favor. You've never met my family."

"I can handle 'em. I'll do it because I like you, but I'm also gonna do it as a favor to Bobby. Keep the wolves at bay, you know, so he has something sweet to come home to."

"You're a neanderthal, Logan."

"I know." He held up his drink. "To nosy families and absent lovers."

Her face colored, but she raised her glass and thought, To absent lovers...

The next night, after the barbecue, Alex settled herself in bed and pulled out her journal.

September 7, 2010

Dear Bobby,

If there is one thing I have learned over the years I spent as your partner, it's that I can still be surprised. I think that as long as you are in my life, that will always be true. Today, it was Mike Logan who surprised me. I did ask him to come with me to my folks' barbecue, to throw them all off the scent, so to speak, and he agreed. He wanted me to let you know that he had two main reasons for going with me. First, he was being chivalrous in saving me from the ongoing horror of blind dates I didn't want in the first place. His second reason, and the one I feel was his main reason, was a favor to you. I get the feeling you boys have become better friends than either of you ever let on. I guess you have your reasons, but I think you could do much worse than to have a friend like him. Maybe you weren't blessed with a perfect family, or even a good one, if you think about it, but I have to admit, you learned to choose your friends wisely somewhere along the way. Well, except for Gage, but I think we'll lump him in with the family rather than the friends. He fits better there.

I think my family is content for the time being and will leave me alone about dating. My sister was choosing men that she would have liked to date, but we have never had the same taste in guys. She likes stuffed shirt, business types that I have never had an interest in-accountants, lawyers, stockbrokers. You've met her husband; you know the type. She disagreed with my decision to marry Joe because he was a cop, and it nearly killed her to not tell me "I told you so" when he died. My brothers hit closer to the mark with their choices-a firefighter, a construction worker and another cop, but I just haven't had it in me to get serious about any man, not since you stepped out of my life...or at least, since I thought you stepped out of my life. I've done a lot of thinking over the past couple of months that I had not allowed myself to do before, and I let myself finally admit how much it hurt to think I wasn't going to see you any more. It broke my heart as completely as it was broken when Joe was killed. And then, when you came back, out of the blue, all the pieces kind of fell back into place and I felt whole once again. I hadn't known what was missing all those months until you showed up again and I realized it was you.

So don't go getting yourself lost in the jungle, do you hear me? Be careful and find your way back home soon. I'm lonely, and this time, I know exactly who I'm missing.

Love,

Alex

She closed the journal and set it on her night table, beside the picture of Joe that had been at her bedside since she'd accepted his marriage proposal, a lifetime ago. Turning off the light, she slid under the covers and laid on her side. Once her eyes were used to the dim light from the streetlight that filtered through the curtains, she looked at Joe's picture. "You'll always have a place in my heart that no one else can ever touch, Joe. But maybe now, I'm ready to move on. Maybe it's time for my heart to begin to heal. Wish me luck."

Closing her eyes, she drifted to sleep, and Bobby was waiting for her in her dreams.

Marcus Hunsicker was a fair man and a good leader. He could read men better than most, and he knew the caliber of agents he had under his current command. He was happy to find the opportunity to let his agents have one night in a motel, though he wished it could be more. He knew he pushed them hard, and they were weary, but this chance for a hot shower and a real bed would be enough to recharge their spirits, which he could tell were flagging, even if they never let him know.

They'd crossed the border into Bolivia and stopped in the town of Riberalta. Hunsicker's sources reported that Alejandro, who was barely a day ahead of them, stopped to make camp and, although he was tempted to press on, Hunsicker realized the wiser move was to give his agents a brief respite. They were exhausted and that put them at a greater risk than he was willing to take, particularly if they had another run-in with Alejandro's men. The last one almost took a disastrous turn and they were lucky to have gotten away with only minor injuries to two agents. The end was near-he could feel it-and he needed his people to be ready. Alejandro was not going to slip through his fingers again.

Bobby finished in the shower, toweled off and pulled a clean pair of jeans over his boxers. Toweling his hair, he didn't notice there was anyone in the room until he dropped the towel over the back of a chair and saw Aggie sitting on Derek's bed. He could feel her eyes roam over his bare chest, and he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. He was more trim and fit than he'd been in years, but he didn't want to offer Aggie any encouragement at all. She smiled at his discomfort. "Relax. I'm waiting for Derek." She watched him grab his pack and begin rearranging it. "She must really be something."

He looked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Your girl. She must really be something."

She was something, that was very true. He was willing to hold himself celibate just on the hope that she would be willing to give him a chance to be more than partners, more than friends. He nodded slowly. "To me, she's everything."

"Been dating long?"

"No, but I've known her for a long time."

"Oh, so you're friends?"

He hesitated for a moment. "We were partners for ten years. We, uh, we're close."

Aggie studied him warmly. "Those are the relationships that work, friends turned into lovers. You already know each other's secrets, so there are no surprises. I hope she realizes what she has. Not too many guys who don't wear a wedding band will turn down a chance for a fling with no strings attached."

"I've often been told I'm not normal," he answered as he turned back to his pack. He was the fortunate one, if Alex was even willing to take a chance on him. It was the hope that she would be willing that gave him the fortitude to tell Aggie no. And not just Aggie...he would continue to say no to any woman who wasn't Alex, until he knew for certain whether she would ever be his.

Aggie stood up and crossed to his side. He looked at her and she smiled again. "Being normal is overrated. You keep right on being not so normal, especially if that's the way your girl likes you."

His eyes searched her face, and he read sincerity in her expression. Then the door opened and Derek came into the room. Aggie lightly touched Bobby's arm and stepped away from him. Derek smiled at her. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Hey, Bobby, why don't you join us?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, thanks. You go on."

"Okay, then. See you in the morning."

They left the room, and Bobby finished what he was doing. He pulled on his socks and shoes and then went out to grab a bite to eat.

He had a quiet dinner in a nearby restaurant, returning to an empty room. Relieved, he fished out his pad and pen, then sat down at the desk and began to write. He thought carefully about what he wanted to say, finally deciding against any explanation for the long gap since his previous letter. Another run-in with Alejandro's mutts-one that resulted in a sprained ankle and a flesh wound of the shoulder for two of the guys-delayed their trek through Peru, since Hunsicker decided it was best that they not continue to travel by river. For the first time since leaving Colombia, Alejandro gained more than a day's lead, however, it was short-lived. They'd gotten within a half-day of the drug lord before being pinned down again by his cronies. He was intentionally vague about the mission he was on, and he felt guilty about that, but it was necessary, in case his letter somehow fell into the wrong hands. He didn't like the idea of that, but there was little he could do about it. All he could do was hope that she was getting his letters, so she would know that he was serious about her. The longer he was away, the more he wanted to be with her. If she felt just a little of what he was feeling, then he had a real chance with her.

Almost done with the letter, his pen hovered over the page. He was very lonely, as he had been since leaving the captain's office the day she fired him, and he wanted to let her know how he felt, but he was afraid of placing any undue pressure on her. He often wore his heart on his sleeve, but not with her. With her, he always had to be careful. Perhaps that would change when he got home, but if it didn't, at least he was well-experienced with playing certain emotional cards very close to his chest. He had never gone all in with her, though he'd come close after her kidnapping...too close. He'd never let that happen again.

He finished up the letter, then addressed it and brought it to the front desk, asking the clerk to send it out with the next day's mail.

On his way back to his room, he ran into Hunsicker. "So, do you like the accommodations, Bobby?"

Bobby smiled. "They'll do."

The DEA agent laughed. He really liked the quiet, serious former police detective, even if he didn't know a lot about him. He respected Bobby's private nature. The man was good in the field and he'd proven himself in a firefight, which was all Hunsicker had to know. If Bobby preferred to keep his private life private, that was his right.

Walking with him toward the cluster of rooms they had for the night, Hunt said, "We leave at daybreak. I just got word that Alejandro packed up his camp about an hour ago, heading north toward Brazil."

"He's mostly been a day ahead of us since we left Colombia. He'll continue to try to shake us, but once he finally realizes that he can't, he's going to turn and fight."

Hunt nodded solemnly, agreeing with his agent's assessment of their quarry. "Yes, he will. All I can do is hope to stay informed, so we can be prepared. This one isn't going to go quietly. Get a good night's rest. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"Yes, sir. Good night."

Once in his room, Bobby stripped to his boxers and t-shirt. Sliding into his bed, he folded his arms behind his head and watched a spider crawl across the ceiling in the light that shone through the window. As always, his thoughts tumbled into the past to Alex, and he drifted to sleep with her on his mind.

Nearly three weeks passed before Alex came home to find another letter in her mailbox. She didn't stop to analyze the little leap her heart did when she saw his writing. Setting down her gym bag, she dropped the rest of the mail on the coffee table and settled on the couch to read the much-welcomed letter.

September 23, 2010

Dear Alex,

I am tired of being wet. Whoever termed this region the rain forest was not exaggerating. We're in the winter months down here, which is considered the not-so-wet season because there is no real dry season in the rain forest. As if it weren't bad enough that we get wet from above, we traveled part of the way through Peru by river so there was as much water below us as there was falling down on us, or so it seemed. When we weren't traveling by boat, we were driving by jeep, which can be challenging. There's no BQE through the rain forest. I hate mud.

Forgive me for complaining. I really don't do it much, but sometimes, the conditions get to me. We've spent most of the last few months miserably wet, and we just deal with it. Sometimes it helps to complain a little, so thanks for letting me do that.

We made it to Bolivia, and we've stopped overnight in Riberalta, a town of almost 70.000 people located at the convergence of the Madre de Dios River and the Beni River. The first thing Derek said to me when we arrived was "Great. More water." I had to agree with his sentiment.

We have been rewarded with the luxury of a night in a motel before we have to move on in the morning. So I took a hot shower and enjoyed a quiet dinner that you would have liked. Cattle ranching and agriculture are prominent in this region, so for dinner I had a dish called majao. It's a beef dish consisting of shredded charque, which is like jerky, with rice, onion and tomato served with a fried egg on top and garnished with fried yucca and plantain. I had a few drinks with it, and I feel more relaxed than I have since I left New York after seeing you. It's really not a good idea, given the reason we're here, for us to overindulge in anything, and so we normally don't. I've only gotten hammered that one time, right after my birthday and, well, I know you get that because, honestly, you get me.

I don't know what to think about us, Alex, because I don't know how you feel, but I operate under the premise that I may at least have a chance with you. It's something, any way. Pathetic, maybe, but...I probably shouldn't say any more. If you've moved on, well, that's life, and I will find a path that works for me. But I'll keep writing when I can until I get home because somewhere along the way, I've learned to hope. I probably learned it from you, and that's just one more thing I have to thank you for.

Please, don't think I am trying to put any pressure on you. I know you have no reason to wait for me, and I have no reason to think that you will. I won't be in South America forever, even though it seems that way right now, but I know that I have already been gone too long. When I can't sleep, which is often, even when I'm exhausted, I lay wherever I happen to be and listen to the sounds around me—sirens and traffic and the sounds of the city can't hold a candle to a troop of howler monkeys overhead—but my thoughts belong to you. I live on the memories I have that we have shared and on the hope that maybe there will be more.

With love,

Bobby

She folded the letter and held it in her lap for a long time. She was used to his uncertainty when things weren't right between them, but they had parted on good terms. His confession of love had hit a bull's-eye on her heart. But he had not waited for a reply, probably afraid of what she might say, so he had no idea that she reciprocated his love. The way he swung so wildly between hope and doubt tugged at her heart and, more than anything, she wished she had a way to reassure him.

She ran her hand lovingly over the folded paper before opening it and reading it again. Then she slid it into its envelope and got up from the couch. Walking to the bedroom, she took out her journal, tucking his letter with the others at the back of the book, which she carried from the room. Setting it on the dining table, she fixed herself a quick, light dinner and began to write.

September 29, 2010

Dear Bobby,

Right off the bat, let me apologize. When I read what you had to say about the rain, I laughed. You always loved the rain, and now you're getting your fill of it. I can't count the number of times I hurried through the rain to keep as dry as possible while you just took your time. Rain is cleansing, you told me. It cleans the air and washes away the grime of the city streets. Well, don't feel bad. Every time it rains here, I think of you and my heart feels just a little warmer. I have missed you more than I was willing to admit, even to myself. Then you turned up and forced me to face my feelings. I'm not sure whether to thank you or smack you. I'm so tired of feeling empty; I just want you to come home.

You are right about majao. Of all the meals you have described so far, that one sounds the most palatable. I guess pastrami will seem a bit mundane when you get home. I'm not sure I can manage to challenge your palate, and I hesitate to let you challenge mine. I suppose you can convince me to try certain things, but I definitely draw the line at masticated beer. We'll see how it goes with the rest of it. I would say you'd be hard-pressed to find monkey meat in New York, but I know you too well. Somehow, you would find it. So I'm not going to get myself in a bind by saying I'll try it if you can find it. You'll just have to find something else to challenge me to eat.

I really do wish I had some way to contact you, but I'll go out on a limb here and say the local postal service wherever you are doesn't follow our own post office's motto of "Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night..." I don't guess there's a postal service down there that will chase you all over the rain forest trying to deliver your mail.

Seriously, though, in reading your letters, it breaks my heart to know you're plagued by doubts. In a way, it's your own doing, as it usually is. If you'd just waited for me to respond that last afternoon we were together in Bay Ridge, then you would have some idea how I feel. Were you afraid of what I might have said? Is it such a frightening prospect to take a chance on hearing the words "I love you" repeated back to you?

As I sit here, though, and think about the life you've lived and the relationships you've had, I guess I can understand why you didn't hang around. It wasn't an "I love you" that you were afraid of getting. It was not getting it that you feared, wasn't it? I understand that, even though it frustrates me to think you still don't know me after all these years. Have I really been that good at hiding my feelings? I must have been or you would know how I feel. Remembering that I once warned you, under threat of bodily harm, not to profile me, I have to wonder if you took me so seriously that you never tried to do it. I guess you did. How hard that must have been for you to refrain from doing something so innate, something you often do without ever realizing it. It's how you make sense of your world, categorizing its components. So should I believe that I'm the one part of your world that you never sought to explain, the one puzzle you never figured out?

I have to tell you something, Bobby, and it's easier for me to put it in writing. I would have a great deal of difficulty putting this out there verbally, so it's something I would probably never tell you otherwise. When we parted back in January, I felt a nearly overwhelming sense of loss because I didn't think I was ever going to see you again. And yet, I had trouble moving on with the part of my life you once shared. Part of that void has been filled by my job with Jimmy, but the bigger part of it has remained empty. Then you called me out of the blue and I was so surprised I didn't know how to react. When you kissed me and told me that you loved me, I was so stunned, I couldn't reply. By the time I recovered, you were gone, and I had no way to get in touch with you. Your phone went directly to voicemail, so I had to assume you weren't kidding about leaving right away. I'm still not sure how to express what I feel, so I hope that when I see you I'll be able to somehow convey to you how much you have come to mean to me. For now, I'll just have to settle for telling you that I miss you, as I always have, and I can't wait for you to come home.

Love,

Alex

Closing the journal, she set it aside, emotionally unsettled. She hated feeling vulnerable, and that was exactly how she felt at the moment. Any time her emotions got the better of her, she felt raw and exposed. She never appreciated Bobby's tendency to protect her. In fact, she had resented him for it. Now she wanted his protection, and that was a first for her. When they'd parted ways in January, she'd told him he was the best, and she had meant it. There were so many words, harsh words, that she wished she could take back, but those were not among them. Those words had been spoken in a moment of anguish, but they carried a truth from her heart.

Since finding out he had been at Quantico in training and not simply avoiding her, she'd felt a weight lift from her heart that she had not even been aware she had been carrying. The future was brighter than it had been in a long time. He said that he had learned from her to hope, and she wondered how that had happened, since she often found her own hope flagging. With every letter, though, she felt her own spirits rise, and she felt good, looking forward to his return.

She finished her dinner and washed the few dishes in the sink, all the while wondering what he was doing, hoping he was safe. After watching television for a while, she went to bed, with her heart and mind turned toward the future instead of the past.