A/N: I'm loving the reviews! I usually don't single any reviewers out, but, insubordinationfreak, I like the way you think.

Okay, this whole entire day takes place mostly at the apartment. I know right…

Enjoy!

Bobby & Alex's Apartment

It had taken him almost three hours to finally fall asleep, but only two to wake back up. He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Alex's soft breathing next to him for an hour before he had enough of lying in bed doing nothing.

Getting up, he went through his new nightly ritual of checking the rooms and doors, the alarm, and instead of grabbing something with alcohol in it because he didn't have anything, he put the coffee on. He had told Alex that he wouldn't buy anymore beer until he was off work, which was this weekend, but as he paced around the kitchen waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, he knew that he had to start making some major changes or else he was going to lose everything.

The first thing he had to do was stop his excessive drinking. It was going to be hard, and it was probably going to cause him more problems at first, but he could tough through it. For his sake and Alex's, he had to do something. Seeing that the coffee was almost done, he filled a tall cup to the brim and took a cautious sip as he turned to head toward the study.

For once, Polly was resting as he wandered through the living room. Checking to see if the bird was even still alive, he saw that it was breathing before going into the study. He flipped on the light and went over to one of his bookcases as he searched the titles for his copy of the DSM-IV.

Pulling it out, he tossed it on the desk as he sat down. Flipping through the pages, he came to the diagnostic criteria for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder and started reading. Almost two hours later of reading and cross-referencing, and through some serious soul searching and admissions that he didn't want to make, he closed the book and stared at it.

He got up and refilled his cup with more coffee before heading into the bedroom. Finding his cell phone in his pants pocket that he'd slung over the chair in the corner, he flipped it open as he dialed a number as he headed back into the study. Alex was still peacefully asleep so he left the door open as he sat down and listened to the ringing.

After a few rings, and fearing it would go to voicemail, the ringing stopped as he heard, "Yaa, Bobby! Ohayou gozaimasu!"

It took him a minute to comprehend the Japanese but he finally got it as he said, "Declan, why-"

"I'm in Tokyo!"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he leaned forward on his knees. "What're you doing in Tokyo?"

"I'm here for a conference…hang on," Declan told him and he could hear noises in the background and his mentor ordering a drink. "I love these Japanese restaurants. Remember that one we were at-"

"Dec, I didn't call to talk about-"

"…and that waitress. I believe you ended up getting her to taking you up on dinner," Declan laughed a little before saying, "We gotta come back here together some time."

Bobby sighed as he felt the anger in him build. "Declan! Would you shut-up already about the damn…" he stopped himself as he slapped the desk, nearly knocking over the cup of coffee.

Declan was silent before asking in concern, "What's going on? Why are you so angry?"

Breathing out, he picked up the cup and took a sip as he tried to calm down.

"Bobby? Bob, are you-"

"I'm still here. I, uh…I didn't mean…" he stared at the desk and then at the DSM, trying to remember why he even decided to call Declan. The man was a Forensic Psychologist and he had wanted his advice, but now he regretted calling. He didn't feel like talking to his friend and mentor about it. "You're busy eating and having, uh…I'll call you back some other time, okay? Sayonara."

"Wait, Bob-"

He flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the desk as he felt the pain gnawing in his gut. Hearing a noise at the door, he looked up and saw Alex leaning against the frame. Smiling a little as he rubbed at his aching head, he asked roughly, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"I smelt the coffee and thought it was earlier. You said you weren't getting up until noon," she teased as she walked in. "Who did you hang up on?"

"Wrong number," he said, lying to her because he didn't want to explain or talk about it.

Alex slid her hand along the back of his neck, rubbing at the tension that had built as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. They sat together in silence for a long moment as she continued to rub his neck. His right hand rubbed up and down her back as he sat the coffee cup he'd been holding in his left on the desk.

Her saw her reach out toward the book and flip it open to the page he had marked with a post-it note. Not bothering to stop her, he turned his head and buried it into her chest as he heard her soft whispering as she read over the page.

"PTSD is a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma…involving the threat of death to oneself or others, overwhelming the individuals ability to cope." He felt her hand caressing up into his hair as she read, trying to calm him as his breathing increased. "Diagnostic symptoms include re-experiencing the trauma through flashbacks or nightmares, avoidance and emotional numbing, and increased arousal such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, problems with anger and concentration, or hyper-vigilance. It must last more than a month and cause significant impairment in social, occupational, and other areas of functioning."

"There's more," he said with a hitch in his voice as his body started to tremble against hers. Reaching out, he turned the page and pointed to a few of the symptoms he highlighted.

Alex's hold on him tightened as she snuggled more firmly into his lap. "You're starting to panic, Bobby. You need to calm down." Nodding against her neck, he took a deep breath as her heard her soft murmuring as she began to read again. "Inability to recall major parts of the trauma, or decreased involvement in significant life activities…Decreased capability, or down to complete inability, to feel certain feelings…An expectation that one's future will be somehow constrained in ways not normal to other people…Is that way you've been reviewing the case files on both your abduction and the shooting?"

Bobby nodded again as he swallowed hard around the tightness that had restricted his throat. "I've been, uh…I don't remember certain things. I remember the feeling that I had, the distress and the anger and the fear, but…I've realized I've been repressing a lot of it."

"When did you start realizing it?"

Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "New Year's Eve."

Alex turned her head to him as she kissed over his temple. "When you were in the bar fight?"

"Yeah," he told her as he body trembled more, nearly to the point of convulsing.

"Calm down-"

"I can't," he whispered into her neck as he felt himself start to get angry.

"That was before the shooting, Bobby. Why were you-"

"It wasn't the shooting," he harshly snapped before he could catch himself.

Alex was still curled up on his lap and he wasn't aware that his hand was gripping her waist a little too hard until he felt her hand cover his. She eased her fingers between his until his grip loosened. "Maybe I should-"

"Don't go," he desperately whispered into her neck. He still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He was too afraid of what he might see.

"I'm not going," she tried to reassure him but the fear in his chest was too painful, too powerful, to believe those words.

Everyone left him, always. Everyone lied, and he was the idiot fool who tried to believe them that they weren't. Pretty soon Alex would realize that he wasn't worth it, wasn't worth the effort, and now that he was sick with something seriously wrong, she would leave him too. Just as he father left.

Alex was still holding him despite his tight hold on her; he was afraid that he might hurt her but she didn't seem to mind. "It says that depression is a secondary symptom of PTSD."

He gave another nod as he tried to control his breathing before he got too angry, which just caused all the pain in his stomach to ache even more.

Now that he knew what it was caused from, and not wanting to go off on Alex like before, he held it in as he gave into the pain that nearly sent him to the floor in agony. He would rather suffer through the pain than to yell at her again. The explosion of anger could wait until she was far enough away from him.

The tears escaped his clenched eyes and Alex noticed right away. "Hey," she said as he felt her thumb run under over his cheek. "What's the matter?"

Shaking his head, he couldn't tell her that his gut was twisting and aching so bad that it was bringing tears to his eyes. "Just…tired, that's all," he said between clenched teeth and jaw.

"You look like you're in pain."

"Nothing I can't handle." Looking down at the book, he turned a page and told her, "There's more. It, uh…it says that, um, that self-medication is common…Th-that, uh…that PTSD can be hindered or worsen by-by medication or alcohol overuse, abuse, or dependence…I've been doing that."

Alex pulled his head toward her, trying to get him to look at her but he blatantly refused by keeping his eyes down and jerking his head away. "Bobby, look at me."

"I can't, Alex. Okay, I just…You should know all of this if you're going to stay. It's not going to be easy, you know…The mood swings are part of this and it's only going to get worse before it gets better, but now that I know and you know then…then we can deal with it better."

"You're going to go talk to someone now aren't you?" When he didn't answer, she said, "Please tell me you're not going to try and get past this on your own."

"I have to stop drinking. That'll be the first step, cut out all the-"

"Damn it, Goren," Alex angrily said as she moved on his lap, getting right in front of him. "You can't do this alone. There's medication for this that will help."

"I'm not taking a fucking pill!" he finally snapped as he glared up at her. "I already got myself addicted to pain medication, I can only imagine what I'll do with-with an antidepressant or mood stabilizer, or even a damn antipsychotic…It's a waste of time anyway and all these psychiatrist, all they want to do is drug you and make you not be able to function properly, turn you into a fucking drone who can't think straight. They did it to my mother and I'm not letting them do it to me."

Alex stared down at him, confused, slightly irritated, but most of all concerned as she said, "Your mother is doing better on the medication-"

"Yeah, not thinking clearly, living in a fog half the time…restless and not being able to sleep, and still having psychotic breaks and needing to be sedated…Sounds like the drugs are working wonders," he bitterly snapped as he stared down between them. "Over twenty years and she's no better off than when she wasn't taking any. I don't want to be on medication the rest of my life," he sternly told her. "I don't want to be in therapy the rest of my life either, okay. Because that's what they do. They don't actually cure anything, they just heal you a little bit at-at a time, making you 'work' on your problems, as they stretch it out over years and years of sessions. I'm not going to pay someone who's just going to sit and pretend to be listening only to tell me at the end of the session that time's up and he'll see me next week."

Alex had remained quiet as he rambled and vented until he was finally out of breath and staring at past her at the wall. "So instead of seeking professional help, you're going to detox yourself from alcohol and try to deal with it yourself by confiding in no one, getting angrier and angrier until…what?"

Bobby breathed out as he stared up at her. "I'll work it out."

"How can you work it out when you're the problem? You can't be objective."

"But you can," he told her as he pleaded with her. "That is if you don't leave me before-"

"If you're going to do this, Bobby, you have to get it into that head of yours that I'm not going anywhere. Like I told you last night, if I leave then who will be here for you? No one. You're going to need a support system and right now I'm the only one you got."

"I got Lewis…Declan," he told her before stopping as he tried to think of anyone else. He couldn't.

"And me," Alex said as she turned his face up toward hers. "Stop keeping me at a distance." She leaned down and kissed him firmly on the mouth as her arms wrapped around his neck.

He tried to return the kiss with as much love and compassion she was giving him but couldn't. Bobby tried to feel the love she was giving him, tried to reason it in his head that she wouldn't eventually leave, that her words were the truth, but the more he tried the more distant he felt.

Finally, Alex broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his. "Last night, you were desperate, kissing me with so much passion and need that it was nearly terrifying. Earlier tonight you were playful and making crude sexual suggestions," she said as she breathed out. "And now, you're miles away. These are the mood swings that I'm having problems with, Bobby. This behavior was what had me thinking before about leaving you."

Bobby closed his eyes at the guilt he felt ignite his chest. "I…"

"You don't know why you do it and you can't control the when or the how…" she tried to reason with him as he shook his head. "This is exactly why you're not going to be able to do this on your own."

"I'll try harder."

"Try harder at doing what? Do you even know what you've got to do?"

Bobby hated to admit that he had no clue what to do or how to do it, but he did know that he wasn't see a shrink. He would probably end up hitting the guy if he did. The pain, which had eased slightly with his frustration and irritably, was once again making its presence known in his gut. Like his doctor had told him, the cycle was continuing and pretty soon he would get angry again. He would eventually snap at her again, and possibly yell and hit or kick at something.

Taking a breath, he said, "I really think you should at least have somewhere to go if I can't."

Alex sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "I love you, Bobby, and I really don't want to see you self-destruct, or have a breakdown, when you know you can do something to prevent it from happening. For me, can you please get over your hate and distrust of psychiatrists and medications."

Working his jaw hard back-and-forth, he shook his head 'no'.

"You stubborn…" she trialed off as she stared down at him.

He kept glancing up at her, feeling her frustration and anger at him, as he said, "Now, are you going to leave?"

Alex glared down at him, and with a shove, pushed him against the back of the chair. "No, but I am seconds away from smacking some sense into you."

With a smirk, he dared her, "Go 'head, Alex, hit me. Do it, I'll let you do it." When she didn't, and the only thing she did was shake her head at him in dismay. Bobby moved her off his lap while he stood. "I didn't think so."

Alex, still fuming over him calling her out, told him as he reached around to pick up his empty coffee cup. "One of us has to remain objective and level-headed, don't you think? This isn't going to end well if I kill you."

"Whatever," he called over his shoulder as he left the study, mumbling to himself, "Maybe it'll be better if you did. Save us both the misery."

He wouldn't stop pacing. Round and around through the rooms, it was like watching a caged animal. In his hand was a can of coke instead of his usual bottle of beer or glass of scotch, and a cigarette. She figured they would deal with one addiction at a time. Making him quit smoking cold turkey at the same time he was battling his alcohol dependence was only going to make things worse. Taking another sip of the coffee, she sighed as she leaned back in the recliner and flipped through the pages of the DSM-IV that Bobby had been reading earlier.

He had said that it would be best for her to know what was happening, or going to happen, if she stayed. So, taking him up on that, she had brought the book with her out into the living room and began reading about not only PTSD but other things as well, like depression and alcohol abuse, and substance abuse in general. It shocked her to realize that Bobby was borderline becoming a full-blown addict. His dependence and abuse of alcohol could have very easily turned more severe without her even realizing it.

Bobby was the master at hiding things, and hiding an addiction would have been something he could have easily done. Especially since she had a way of defending him, and overlooking some of his behavior, in trying to understand him.

In a way she has been enabling his behavior. It was time she faced up to that and realize that in order for Bobby to get better she had to start putting her foot down. And not just saying it with no follow through. She had realized that when Bobby had egged her on about smacking him and she didn't. She could say so much, threaten him so many times, but if she never actually did anything than it sent him a message that he could do it and get away with it.

It was one of the rules they learned very early on at the police academy. If you threaten a suspect, you better be willing to follow through with your threat. It did no good to tell someone to drop their gun or you'll shoot only to not actually pull the trigger.

She didn't think she would have to do that in her personal relationship, but Bobby wasn't like a normal boyfriend. He liked to test people, push them, and he did it with everyone. Even with her even after she had gotten on him about not doing it. She realized after getting back with him that he couldn't help it. It was part of who he was. He always had to see how far he could go, how far he could push someone else to go…

It was time she set her boundaries and made him follow them. It was like she was trying to train a dog.

"What's so funny?"

Alex looked up at him and realized that she had started to laugh at herself. "I just thought of you as an untrained dog."

Bobby only stared at her before sticking the cigarette back in his mouth, continuing his pacing. He downed the can and went into the kitchen to grab another one.

"You're going to make yourself sick."

Bobby ignored her as he popped open another can and started his pacing. They had recently bought a twenty-four cases of sodas, Coke for him and Mountain Dew for her, and he was already halfway through his case.

"If you're going to drink that much, maybe you should switch to diet?"

He gave her a look as he took a drink and disappeared back down the hallway, only to return a few minutes later, tapping the can against his leg and puffing away on the cigarette.

"What memories were you repressing?" she suddenly asked as he stared at the blank television across the room.

"What memories?" he asked; his voice sounded distant, like he wasn't completely there and she didn't think he was. There was a lot going on in that mind of his.

"The ones you had on New Year's Eve that made you realize you were repressing them?"

Bobby blinked back and shook his head.

"It was before the shooting so…" Alex sighed as she thought of the two files he had been obsessively reading over in the study. "You didn't remember your abduction?"

"I remembered the abduction," he said with a hint of defiance, and a warning in his voice. "Leave it alone, Alex, please."

"I'm not leaving it alone. You've got to talk about it. After my kidnapping, I talked about it and it got better. I talked to Dr. Olivet, my family and friends…You never talked about it. You never even went to confront Jared-"

"Alex, God damn it! I said to leave it alone!"

She expected his anger at some point so instead of getting upset herself over his sudden outburst, she held it together as she thought more about it. "Have you even said the words? I know you had to have told Elliot because he took your statement, but since then have you even admitted it to yourself what happened?"

Bobby was seething and she knew she was going to make him lost it, but maybe he needed to lose it. He needed to confront all these feelings that were hindering him.

"It's hard to admit. I can only imagine what it's like for you, being a man, to say that you were raped-"

He was across the room before she could even move. The book she had on her lap was snatched up and thrown across the room. It hit the mantel above the fireplace, sending her books and bookends to the floor as he yelled, "Stop reading that damn book!" He turned and hit the wall before disappearing down the hallway.

She gave him, and herself a few minutes to calm down before getting up out of the recliner. Finding him in the bedroom sitting on the bed with his hands buried in his hands, she felt her heart go out to him. Not only was he trying to get over being shot and almost dying, but he also had the added pain of his past rape he was struggling with.

"This is too much for you to handle, Bobby. With being a woman, I can only imagine the pain and guilt and everything that goes along with that happening, but for you…For a man to have to face something like that, it's going to be too much. You've already been repressing it for so long…"

"I can deal with this."

"No, you can't," she stressed to him again. "You threw a book across the room and told me to stop reading it because I was trying to get you to admit-"

"I'll admit it, okay!" he snapped. "I was…I…" he stopped and groaned in frustration and pain as he dropped his arms to his stomach and laid back on the bed. "Everything hurts so damn much, Alex. I need it to stop," he desperately said as he was on the verge of tears.

"You need medication and therapy."

"What if I start abusing the medication? What if I get addicted to it like I did with the pain meds? What if I start drinking again?"

"What if the roof collapsed," she countered, making him turn his head to stare at her.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," she said as she moved away from the door and kneeled on the bed next to him. "You have to stop worrying about all the 'what if's'."

"I'm not being unreasonable," he muttered as he looked toward the ceiling. "These are issues that my whole family had faced and battled and lost to. I'm no better than any of them. It's just my time, is all. These are my weaknesses that I'm plagued by," he softly said as he thought about what Nicole had asked him. "What plagues you, Bobby?" "Alcohol, pain…guilt," he said even though it wasn't everything. "And the overwhelming need to make it all stop. I'll do just about anything. I'll become addicted to pain meds in order to make it stop."

Alex leaned down over him, making him have to wrap his arms around her so she could lay on his chest. Kiss him over his clothed chest, to his neck, and then up to his lips, as she told him, "You are better. And you have something that they never had."

"And what's that?"

"Someone who believes in you. Someone who won't walk out, who won't abandon you for their own needs."

Bobby shifted his eyes away from the ceiling to look at her. He sighed and gave a slight nod. "I tried, you know. I did, but nothing I ever did was good enough. All of it, wasted effort. I don't want that to happen to you."

"It won't because if my love for you can't do it, you've got your stubborn will that I'm certain will do the trick."

He huffed out a laugh but she saw the anger leave him for now.

"You're no longer angry."

It took him a moment to respond, but when he did his voice no longer held the resentment or anguish it had earlier. "I feel calmer."

Alex smiled as she gave him another kiss on the mouth. He still didn't respond as passionately as he should have, but he wasn't pulling away either. "Ready to get some more sleep."

"I can try," he said as he went to let her go. Sitting up, he caught her before she could move away.

Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head into her chest. "I'm sorry for yelling," he muttered against her clothed body as she ran her hands through his hair.

"I know, and you don't have to be. There's no reason to apologize for this."

"I don't want you to think-"

She pushed him back a little so she could look down at him. Bobby steadied his breathing as he stared down at the floor. "I would never think that you did any of that on purpose. That's not you."

Giving a nod, he got up and pulled her into a hug. She felt him give her a kiss on the top of her head before leaving the room. Hearing the bathroom door shut, she let out a deep breath and prayed for the strength to get through this with him.

She didn't know then how long of a night it was going to be.

Getting in under the covers, she rolled over in bed and tried to settle down in the bed as she waited for Bobby to come back out of the bathroom. Thirty minutes later she had fallen asleep and he still hadn't emerged.

The feeling that someone was watching her woke her from a restless sleep. Reaching out, she felt the empty bed and sighed in sorrow. He still wasn't in bed. Looking at the clock, she saw it was almost three in the morning. "Where is he?" she softly asked as she rolled onto her back while rubbing at her eyes.

She heard him breathing and that was when he remembered what had woken her. Sitting up, she glanced around the room and nearly jumped at seeing the dark shadow of someone standing the doorway. Once she was over the initial fear, she saw that the dark shadow was Bobby.

"What in the hell, Goren? You scared the shit out of me." When he didn't answer, she looked him over and realized that he was holding something around his hand. "What happened?"

Bobby looked down at his hand and without looking back up, said, "I, uh…I cut my hand."

"On what?"

"The mirror."

Alex was confused before it dawned on her how he could have done something like that. She cursed as she got up and walked up to him. "You broke the mirror," she said as she reached out to take a look at his hand.

He quickly pulled it away as he said, "I was going to drive myself to the hospital but…I couldn't find my keys and your car's still parked at the Tainted Lady. Then I was going to the bus but I couldn't get my coat on."

She shook her head at him as she quickly got dressed and then pulled him out a flannel and helped him to put it on over his t-shirt. Then she grabbed their coats and helped with that as well before going in search for his car keys. She found them on the dresser and dangled them in front of him.

"I didn't look there."

"I see, or else you would have found them. C'mon, I'll drive."

Bobby followed her out of the house and into his car. Once they were in, she cursed again and looked over at him. He smirked a little, saying, "You can't drive a stick."

Alex pushed the door open and went around to the passenger side as he got out. "Where are you going?"

Bobby looked over at her as he gestured to the driver side. "Someone's gotta drive."

"With one hand? It's a stick, you need both. And it's your right hand, you need that one to shift. We'll take the train. Where's the nearest emergency room?" she asked as they headed out onto the sidewalk.

Bobby looked at her as he said, "The nearest emergency room that's any good in Brooklyn is in Bushwick."

"We might as well go to Queens. What about your doctor?"

"It's three in the morning and his office is closed."

As they headed out onto the sidewalk, she said, "I can't believe I have to rush you off to a hospital by walking to the subway to get there."

Despite the cold, and the situation, Bobby chuckled. "If that's not love…"

Alex glared over at him but she smiled at that little remark. "Oh, it's love alright. Or insanity. How's your hand?"

"It's throbbing, but at least it's distracting me from the pain in my gut."

Alex stopped walking as he kept going. When he realized she had stopped, he turned to face her. She glared at him with suspicion as she asked, and trying not to accuse, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"What?" Bobby asked in confusion as he stared right back at her.

"Cut your hand, Bobby. Did you do that on purpose in order to distract you from the pain, and to get yourself back on pain meds?"

At that accusation, Bobby glared at her and she could see the anger coming back with vengeance. "How in the hell could you accuse me of something like that? I cut my fucking hand open, Alex, and believe me it wasn't on purpose!"

"Then what were you doing throwing your non-dominate hand into a mirror when you're left handed?"

At that, he stopped his heated rant as he stared hard at her. He lost focus for a second before he gapped at her and nothing came out. Then, he said as if realizing something, "I swear to you I didn't…not consciously, I didn't-I wasn't even aware of it until…I was just in so much pain-" he whispered in a near plea for her to understand. "You've got to believe me-…I would never intentionally hurt myself."

She felt her eyes start to burn with tears as she walked up to him and pulled him into hug. "I believe you. I'm sorry."

Once they had both settled down, they continued on their way to the subway station. "Where's the closest station?"

"Right up here on Nassau. We can catch the G and take it to Bedford, then get on the L. That'll take us right by the hospital. It's how I get to work when I don't drive, except I take it going the other way."

"Obviously," she snarked as they approached Nassau Avenue.

"My metro card's in my wallet."

Alex dug into his back pocket for his wallet, causing him to give her an amused look. She only rolled her eyes as she flipped it open and pulled out the metro card before putting his wallet back in the pocket.

St. Nicholas Medical Center

Bushwick, Brooklyn

Thirty minutes later they were in the emergency room and Bobby was staring at the floor as he cradled his bloody hand to his chest.

The t-shirt that he had wrapped around it was soaked through and so the nurse replaced it with a fresh clean bandage but they still had to wait for an open room. Looking around the chairs, not a single one was empty and there were even people lined along the walls. Alex was afraid to get up because someone might take her seat.

"Is it always this busy?"

"Like I said, the other emergency rooms are hell holes," Bobby softly told her as he looked up. "I wasn't kidding. Everyone in Brooklyn knows better."

"It's like I'm in a Seinfeld episode."

Bobby started laughing as he leaned into her and kissed her ear. "We'll be out of here soon enough."

"I should flash our shields, that'll get us in a room quick." Alex turned to him and captured his lips in hers. She did care that the room was packed with sick and injured people, she leaned further into him and deepened the kiss.

Bobby surprised her by not pulling away like he normally would have, depressed or not, and let her slide her tongue over his bottom lip.

"Mr. Goren!"

Bobby breathed out as he broke the kiss and got up. "See, excellent patient care."

"They just wanted us to stop making out in the ER."

Alex followed Bobby through the halls and into an empty room. She watched as he took a pain pill as the nurse set up what she would need to stitch his hand. When she took the dressing off, she got a good look at the top of his hand and frowned. He had cut the space between his index and middle finger, along with the knuckles of both, all the way down to the white bone. The blood had stopped and he didn't seem light-headed or dizzy.

"You're going to need stitches inside your hand as well. Several tendons were severed."

Bobby gave a nod as he turned to face her as the nurse grabbed the needle. Alex grimaced as she had to look away as the nurse stuck it into his hand. He grabbed her waist and pulled her over to him. "It's nothing too bad. Just stitches and maybe a brace for my finger…and a bandage. In a few weeks it'll be fine."

"But you still won't be," she said into his ear. She saw the despair in his eyes as he kept his focus on her.

"This will not happen again," he promised her.

Alex wished she could believe him, but she was starting to have her doubts. "Okay, maybe not this, but something else."

Bobby breathed out as his eyes closed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him while the nurse looked on, stitching up his hand.

It didn't take long for him to be cleared to go home without a prescription after Bobby blatantly refused the stronger pain medication. She had told the doctor that they already had a prescription of ibuprofen at home, so the doctor accepted the refusal and let them go. It pleased her that he had the strength to turn the medication down, proving to her that he hadn't done that to himself just to get pain meds.

As they sat down on the subway, she leaned into him and closed her eyes. He kept his injured hand around her shoulders as the train raced through the tunnels, taking them back home.

Bobby & Alex's Apartment

Bobby woke around one that afternoon and felt his stomach aching from both pain and hunger. His hand was also throbbing and he groaned into the pillow as he rolled onto his stomach, burrowing himself deeper into the bedding.

He felt her hand run along his head, over his forehand as she told him, "There's a couple of ibuprofens on you nightstand and a bottle of water. I need to check to see if you can also have some Tylenol."

"Why would I need Tylenol?"

"Because you're running a fever."

He opened his eyes and flinched at the sunlight pouring through the window.

Alex got out of bed and went over to the window to draw the blinds and close the drapes. "There."

"Thanks," he mumbled as he reached over and took the pills before downing them with water. "And I'm sure the Tylenol will be fine."

Lying back in bed, he watched as she left the bedroom as he inspected the bandage. He saw some blood spots from seepage but nothing to cause alarm. Slowly unraveling it, he felt the throbbing start to ease and let out a deep breath or air in relief. Tossing the old bandage to the floor, he looked at the stitched cuts and didn't see any signs of infection. His hand was swollen and a greenish bruise was formed around his knuckles and the back of his hand, other than that, it all looked okay. On his index finger was an brace to keep him from bending it.

Alex returned to the room with her hands full and the white paper bag they left the hospital with. In one hand she held a cup of coffee, in the other the bottle of Tylenol. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and put the cup on the nightstand.

"There's no infection," he told her as she unscrewed the cap on the bottle of pain medication.

"It's probably from your hangover, and all the stress from last night."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He took two to the extra strengths pain pills, and fever reducers, with a sip of coffee.

Alex dug into the paper bag and pulled out a new bandage. "You were supposed to have kept that one on for at least twenty-four hours."

"It's not going to matter."

She took his hand as he watched her eyes roamed over the injury. Alex carefully applied the antibacterial ointment before taking as much care with wrapping the bandage around his hand. "That's not too tight is it?"

He shook his head as he kept watching her, trying to feel anything other than a slight hint of irritation that he felt too helpless to take care of himself. Anyone else would have felt gratitude and love, appreciation and valued. In his current state, he couldn't feel any of that, and that scared him more than knowing that he had thrown his fist into a glass mirror.

"All better," she said as she laid his hand down on his chest as she leaned down to give him a kiss.

He let her firmly kiss him on the mouth as he tried to reciprocate with what he should have been feeling, but he grew frustrated with his apathy and finally just turned away. He tried to explain by telling her that he was sick, and she shouldn't be kissing him on the mouth. However, from the look on her face, they both knew the real reason.

"It's going to take time, Bobby. You can't force yourself to get over this in a matter of hours."

He didn't say anything as he stared at the closed drapes as the frustration, and the guilty, within him intensified. Closing his eyes, he focused on steadying his pacing heart as he let the pain medication ease the aching in his body.

His body started to grow heavy as his mind drifted, sending him in a fitful, and troubled, sleep.

When he woke again, it was dark in the bedroom. Looking toward the window, he realized it wasn't from the drapes being closed. The clock read 6:54 and he briefly wonder if it was seven at night or in the morning. It didn't matter, either way he had to get out of bed and go to the bathroom.

Standing on unsteady legs, he slowly made his way to the bathroom and shut the room. The broken mirror pieces had been cleaned up and he felt guilt for not having done that himself. He could imagine Alex cursing him out the entire time she was picking up sharp shreds of glass, and trying not to cut herself. He washed his hands and splashed his face a few times before heading out into the living room. His stomach was aching and he was certain that it was from the lack of eating.

The apartment was empty he realized as he entered the kitchen and saw no Alex. She wasn't in the living room either, or his study…The coffee pot was empty and so was the stove, and the multiple ovens. Scratching his head, he opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Nothing appealed to him as appetizing so he shut it and opened the freezer. He quickly realized that he didn't have much food in the house and the only thing in the freezer besides frozen hash browns and ice was a tub of ice cream.

Pulling out the ice cream, he shut the door with his elbow then went over to the sink and grabbed a spoon from the strainer.

Alex fumbled with her keys as she unlocked the backdoor before using her foot to kick it in. Hurrying over to the table, she dropped the bags of groceries and then turned to shut the door. At seeing someone on the floor, she nearly jumped until she saw who it was.

"Would you stop doing that?"

Bobby just looked up at her in confusion as he licked a spoon clean of the mint chocolate ice cream he was eating. "Need help?"

"No, I got it all," she told him as she pulled her keys out of the door before shutting it. Alex looked back down at him and asked, "What're you doing up?"

"I was hungry," he told her as he dug the spoon into the tub and then stuck it into his mouth. Of all the places to eat ice cream, he had to do it on the floor in front of the refrigerator, with no pants on.

"So you decided to raid the ice cream?" she teased as she started to unload the bag of groceries. "You're going to have to move."

Bobby grumbled as he uneasily stood and then went over to the table to sit like a normal person. "What'd you get?"

"Everything. I was planning on making a meatloaf tonight, any objections?"

Bobby shook his head as he took another bite of the ice cream. "We can make, uh…potatoes with it."

"Baked, mashed…au gratin?" she asked as she pulled out a container of multi-purpose breadcrumbs to use for cooking.

"We haven't had au gratin in awhile."

She sat the container on the counter by the stove and then pulled out the hamburger to make the meatloaf. "I got you some Gatorade," she told him as she pulled out two big bottles and took them over to the refrigerator to get them cold. "And some soup."

"I'm not sick," he told her as he looked up from the tub he'd been digging in.

Alex leaned over the table and pressed her hand against his forehead and then against his cheek. "You're not as hot as you were before, but you still don't look good."

"Thanks, appreciate it."

"You know what I mean. Your eyes are bloodshot and you're pale, sweating a lot."

"I'm pale because it's winter, and I always sweat a lot."

"Not like that. It's practically pouring off you." Alex left the kitchen and went into the bathroom to grab the thermometer. When she returned to the kitchen, he was putting some boxes of cereal and other dry foods away in the cabinet. "Come here," she said as she walked up to him.

When he turned, she stuck it into his mouth and pulled the spoon that had been in it out. "Wha-"

"Don't take it out," she told him as she tossed the spoon into the tub on the counter.

Bobby sighed and stared at her while they waited a few minutes. Taking it out, she checked his temp and saw it was 99.8. "It's still high."

"I'll take some more Tylenol and another ibuprofen if it'll make you feel better."

"It's supposed to make you feel better," she told him as she went back into the bedroom.

The bottle of medication were on the nightstand along with the now warm bottle and cold cup of coffee. Carrying everything into the kitchen, she handed him the two bottles then emptied the coffee into the sink before putting the cup into the dishwasher. She then tossed the bottle back into the refrigerator as she searched for an onion, the block of cheese…

"I got it all out," Bobby said when she started opening up drawers.

Alex looked over and spotted everything she'd been searching for on the counter by the stove. "Thanks."

"I'm not entirely useless."

Alex frowned over at him as she grabbed a mixing bowl out from under the cart in the middle of the room. "I never thought you were."

Bobby only looked at her as he reached over and picked up the tub and held it in the crook of his right arm.

"You can't save the rest of that for later?"

"I'll buy some more," he softly told her as he dug out another spoonful of the ice cream. "And if you tell me I'm going to ruin my appetite, it's too late for that. I've eaten half of this damn thing."

As she prepared the meatloaf, she felt his eyes watching her. Every time she looked up, he would look away. Deciding to let him do whatever as she prepared dinner, she started to talk to him about her day. "So, I discovered that in order to shop around here I'm going to have to learn Polish."

"Tak…proszë," Bobby said with a slight smirk. "I said, 'yes, please'."

She rolled her eyes at him as she formed meatloaf on the pan and then slid it into the oven. Bobby was in front of the sink so she had wait for him to move before she could wash her hands off.

He took his time moving away, causing her to glare at him while he just chuckled a little more.

"I'm glad you're finding this amusing."

"I take it you went and got your car all by yourself?"

"I didn't have a choice."

Bobby sat the tub down hard on the counter as he stared over at her. "Why'd you have to say it like that? I was in bed asleep, you could've woken me up."

"You have a fever, Bobby."

"So!" he snapped. "And since you know that I did have a fever," he corrected, "then you shouldn't say it like you were accusing me of not going with you."

"I wasn't accusing you of anything. I wanted to go, so I went," she shot back as she grabbed a knife out of the drawer and a potato peeler. Picking a potato up, she started peeling it without caring that it the skin was getting all over the counter.

Bobby groaned behind her and the next thing she knew the trash can was against her legs. "You're making a mess."

Alex focused on preparing dinner as she calmed herself down. Bobby had remained quiet after that as he put the ice cream back in the freezer and then left the room. She heard the shower running and realized he hadn't taken any plastic to cover the bandage. Setting the last potato and peeler down, she grabbed a plastic bag and headed toward the bathroom.

"Bobby, you didn't get any plastic…" she trailed off as she entered the bathroom and he was standing in the middle of the room staring at the empty spot where the glass had been.

Looking down, his fingers trailed over the scar on his abdomen. It was the first time she'd seen him without a shirt on since the shooting. He had always kept a t-shirt on no matter what and every time she tried to touch him anywhere near his scar, he would stop her. His look was a little off and distant as he shifted his eyes up to hers.

At noticing the bag in her hand, he stared at it for a moment before asking, "Is that for me?"

Alex looked to the bag and then held it out for him. "You don't want to get your bandage wet."

He took it from her as he told her, "Shut the door."

"Are you-"

"Alex," he sternly said as he glared at her. "Shut the door."

Doing as he said, she shut the door and left him alone.

After they ate dinner and put the dishes away, Bobby grabbed a coke from the refrigerator as he felt his body aching for a beer, or a scotch, or a bottle of any damn thing with alcohol in it. His hand started shaking as he took a sip of the soda and then his stomach turned as he felt it go down. The fever wasn't going lower than 99.8, he was still sweating profusely, and his head was killing him along with his stomach.

He was trying so hard not to go off on Alex, having already snapped at her a few times today. She was ready to leave him, he knew. Who would stay and put up with his shit anymore anyway? It wouldn't be long before he woke up and she would be gone for good. Only a matter of time before she got sick of him, like everyone else.

Downing the coke, the sat the empty can on the counter and then went and got another one. Before he could even open it, he felt his stomach lurch. He took off for the bathroom and got there just in time.

Alex came in right after him and started running the water in the sink as she grabbed a washcloth.

Everything in his body ached and clenched as he lost his stomach until he dry heaved with a tight and pained strained throat. "Oh, god…" he quivered as he felt another bout crash into him and dry heaved again until he was spitting up stomach acid.

His body was shaking so bad he would have thought he was cold but he wasn't. It felt like he was on fire. As he tried to stand, his head spun, sending him stumbling against the bathtub.

Alex was there to catch him as she eased him down to the be sitting on the floor. She handed him a glass of water as she flushed the toilet. He swished the water a few times before spitting it out. That only helped a little to clean his mouth out. Leaning against the tub as his head and body tortured him, he closed his eyes as he felt Alex place a cool washcloth over his head.

She used a warmer one to clean his face. Then she stopped mothering him as she leaned back against the tub next to him.

After they sat in silence for a few minutes, Alex asked, "Was it the ice cream?"

Shaking his head, he told her, "I was expecting this." When she didn't ask, he told her anyway, "Alcohol withdrawal. I just thought it would take a couple of days at least."

"You've been through this before?"

Barely shaking his head, he moaned as he told her, "Not me personally, no. I helped a buddy get through it in the Army." Looking over at her, he saw her leaning against him, completely ready to stay the whole night in that bathroom with him if it came to that. Even though he couldn't feel it right then, he thought it and knew that it was the truth. It had to be. "You remember yesterday, when I told you that I loved you?"

Alex blinked up at him as she said, "I'm surprised that you remember."

Smiling a little, he stared into her eyes as he honestly told her, "I meant it. Any woman that'll stick with me while I'm this messed up…I would kiss you, but…"

Alex turned her head and kissed him on the cheek. "I never doubted it. You don't have to say it all the time, I know you try to show me it everyday. Even when you're this messed up."

"I should still say it. I know that you women like to actually hear it every so often."

She smiled at him and moved her hand to rub along the back of his neck. Taking the washcloth off his forehead, she rubbed it along the nap of his neck and then over the front, under the collar of his shirt. He shivered at the coolness against his burning hot skin.

A few minutes later, he felt his stomach lurch again.

Before the night was over, he didn't think he would be able to talk.

She didn't know how long it had been, probably hours, since Bobby started to get sick. Her back was starting to hurt, her head ached a little, and she was so tired. Resting her head on the edge of the tub, she stared out the door at the wall across the hallway, and sighed. Bobby was laying on the floor with his head in her lap. His body was shaking uncontrollably and the sweating wouldn't stop.

Making sure he didn't dehydrate, she kept giving him glasses of water to drink despite him throwing it right back up. She had to believe that some of it was staying in his body.

"You're right," Alex finally spoke after they'd been resting in comfortable silence.

"About what?" he mumbled into her stomach.

"Me moving out. This living together thing isn't really working for us." At seeing the look of fear cloud his eyes, she reassured him by running her hand through his wet hair and saying, "Don't worry, I'm not leaving you, Bobby, but I've been thinking about what you said. I resisted at first because I thought you were just trying to either get rid of me or protect me, or both. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it's one of the things we can actually do to help save this relationship. We were doing so much better living apart. It works for us, and there's nothing in the relationship rule book that says that we have to live together in order to be happy."

Bobby didn't say anything but she could tell that his mind was going. "I'm glad you're finally realizing that," he said in soft sigh of relief. "What's conventional or normal for most people isn't how everyone has to do things. We're two strong, independent people, who have conflicting lifestyles and hobbies." Bobby rolled onto his back and looked up at her. "I think I've been trying to tell you that for a while."

Alex smiled a little at his light teasing, but she also nodded in understanding. She'd been the one so gung-ho on pushing for the conventional thing. Just because it worked with her and Joe didn't mean that it would work with her and Bobby. "I pushed you into this."

"Not entirely. I was the one who asked you to move in and thought it could work."

"Yeah but the only reason you asked was because of what happened to me. I didn't want to live there anymore and you were missing me because you were working on Staten Island," she told him as she moved her left hand to his waist, running her fingers under his shirt and along his side.

"It made sense then," he said with a slight hitch in his voice when she touched him. Breathing out, he relaxed a little.

"And now?"

"And now, it doesn't. Everything has changed and even though I hate to admit it, we have to change with it…"

"By going back to the way things were?" she asked in confusion.

Shrugging he said, "Who said it has to be forward, if going back works best?"

"So this still means we're not getting married anytime soon?" she said lightly, teasing him as she leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"We gotta do what works best for us, right?" When her hand started to trail over to his left side, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away. Keeping her fingers in his palm, he told her, "I knew a couple who were together for fifty-two years, never married, but that didn't mean that they didn't love each other any less."

"Who was that?" Alex asked as she tried to hide the disappoint in her tone at him pulling her hand away. He still wasn't comfortable with her touching him.

"My uncle and his partner. Granted, they couldn't get married, but they loved each other, and were committed to each other, until they both died. I've never seen two happier people in my life. And according to society, they were as unconventional a couple as you could get."

Alex let him play with her fingers for awhile as she asked, "You're not going to freak out and think I'm abandoning you if I move?"

Staring up at her, he said, "Only if you don't abandon me."

Running her other hand through his hair, she smiled a little saying, "Good, because I really miss living in Rockaway. I miss the beach, my morning runs along the surf, having my nieces and nephew over to go shell hunting."

"Shell hunting?"

"That's what Amy calls it."

"You miss the life you had living there," he calmly said as he molded her hand flat against his. His was so much bigger and wider than hers, it nearly engulfed hers. "It's okay to want that, and to have it. I never wanted you to give up anything to be with me, Alex. If you want, we'll go looking at places tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," she reminded him as she felt his forehead and noticed that it was no longer hot to the touch.

"And there's no way in hell I'm seeing my mother in this condition. I'll call her; it'll be okay."

Alex suddenly started laughing to herself. "My family's going to think I'm nuts moving again."

"Just explain to them that some couples can live together and others can't, we are the ones who can't." Bobby laid her hand on his chest, over his heart, as he looked up at her. "I mean, I love you and everything, but if I have to turn the damn heat down one more time…"

"Or if I have to get on you one more time about the toilet seat being up, or having to put your laundry up because you forget, or clean up after you. It's like living with a teenage boy."

"I'm not that bad."

"Bobby, instead of cleaning your coffee cup out you get a clean one, dirtying up two cups, and then you don't even put them in the dishwasher."

"And that's the reason why I always had a cleaning lady. I figured once you moved in-ow!" he exclaimed as she pinched his side. "That hurt," he said as he started to laugh a little.

"I think you're nausea has passed. How're you feeling?" she asked as she picked up the washcloth from the floor.

"My head and stomach still hurts," he told her as he took a moment to assess himself, "my throat is killing me, but I no longer feel like I'm going to get sick."

"Good, because my ass is numb and I'm exhausted. It's been a really long day."

They helped each other off the floor and Bobby quickly brushed his teeth, again, before they headed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. She helped him to lay down as he was still a little dizzy and his head hurt. To be on the safe side, she grabbed the trash can from under her nightstand and sat it next to his side of the bed.

After giving him two more Tylenol to help him sleep, she crawled into bed and sighed into the pillow. "Good night, Bobby."

He didn't say anything for a moment and she thought that he had already fallen asleep. Then she felt him wrap an arm around her waist from behind. Whispering into her ear, he told her, "Night, Alex."

TBC…