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The door closed once again, Bobby moved off, leading the way to where the others waited, but was halted a moment later by an easy hand on his shoulder. He turned back to find Lawson staring at his arm.
"What happened?"
"Huh? What?" Bobby responded, taking a look for himself. He found that his prediction about the result of Darien's earlier upset had come true. "Oh. It's... Ari an' I just had a conversation... he got scared an' emotional. He held on a little too tight, that's all."
"The skin is broken in a couple places. You need to clean and cover it right away."
"It'll keep. I didn't even feel it."
"I see you have company. I'm sorry for intruding... this is just so important..."
"It's fine."
"Why don't you go back to them and I'll get the supplies from the bathroom..."
"No! I mean... please, don't."
"Agent Hobbes... is something wrong?"
"No way. That's why I'm... just come back to the kitchen an' I'll explain, okay?"
"If that's what you'd prefer..."
Once they reached the other three, Bobby waved Lawson to a chair, which he claimed slowly, his expression concerned.
"Okay... look, I never meant to hide anything from you the last time you were here. You asked Darien if he was on meds, but... you never asked me an' I thought... hell, it's best to let it go. But once you were gone, it hit me that not speakin' up could wipe out all the positive things you said about us. I wanted to call you so many times... but I was too scared a'what might happen..."
"I'm very glad you decided to tell me the truth, Agent Hobbes, but what I told you during my earlier visit still stands. I would have preferred to know the whole story, but you weren't obligated to tell me and it wouldn't have had the slightest effect on my evaluation. Do you want to show me the medications you're on?"
Bobby nodded nervously, unable to speak because fear had utterly dried out his mouth. After a quick, fierce hug from Darien, the smaller man strode off to collect his pill bottles from the bathroom.
"Hey, I'm sorry, guys, I forgot to introduce you. This is Steven Lawson. Steve, this is Claire Westerfield and Albert Eberts. They're our best friends and Bobbi's godparents."
Claire's concerned expression shifted toward fearful and she spoke up, handing Bobbi to Eberts, who stood behind her, as if she sensed that her precious Godchild needed protection.
"Evaluation? What evaluation? I don't understand."
"Steve, he's, uh... he's from Child Protective Services. Bobby's ex found out where we lived through her lawyer... she came over one night and started messin' with Bobby, askin' him to go out to dinner, raggin' on him 'cause he won't talk to her. He... we both tried to make her see that Bobby didn't want her back... that he's happy. She didn't get it. She started accusin' him of kidnappin' the baby, said no woman would ever date him, never mind... anyway, he tossed her out an' slammed the door in her face. So she sicced CPS on us."
Eberts moved forward and transferred Bobbi into her mother's arms as she was whimpering and reaching for him.
"My God, Darien. Were you ever planning to tell us about this?"
"No. Not unless it started to look bad. Steve came over, checked everything out... he said we were good, that he couldn't find a damn thing wrong."
"But Bobby didn't reveal that he's on medication." Claire said, now even more wary of the newcomer.
"Like Bert said, Steve saw some of my dark paintings an' asked me if I was taking anything. I told him I wasn't, which is the truth. Bobby... well, he felt like it would have been too big a risk to tell about him. We'll both fight for our little girl 'till they drag our dead bodies out the door, Claire, you know that..."
Claire stood and moved swiftly to Darien's side, anxious to provide comfort.
"I know, darling. So will Albert and I..." she stated with fire, glaring daggers at Lawson, who raised both hands as a sign of surrender and peacemaking.
"Hold on, everybody. I'm not a threat, I swear. The last thing I'd ever do is to take a child from a great home. Granted, it's not so good that Agent Hobbes chose to hide this... but it's not catastrophic."
"Hope to hell not..." Bobby said quietly, returning with the bottles and handing them to Steve. The other man studied the labels one at a time then gave them back, smiling.
"You're taking them exactly as prescribed? Every day, without fail?"
"I've got too much to lose. I never miss."
"And your last episode?"
"Almost... three years back."
"Then I don't see any problem. If my bosses ever happen to bring it up I'll tell them that you mentioned it the last time, but that since I knew the name of the doctor and you convinced me you were doing well on the pills... I didn't give it a second thought and I forgot to include it in the report. Okay?"
Bobby grinned from ear to ear and vigorously shook Steve's hand. Even Claire and Eberts relaxed slightly.
"Yeah. Thanks so much."
"All in a day's work. Now we have to talk about your ex-wife..."
"Of course. Hey, you had dinner yet?"
"No, actually..."
"Ari, make him up a plate of the leftovers, willya, babe?" Bobby requested, dropping into the chair nearest to Steve. "Yeah, so what's she up to now? Or do I really wanna know?"
"Probably not, but you need to if you're going to protect yourselves. Since we didn't give her any satisfaction, she's sworn to go anywhere else she can think of. Lawyers, DA's, private sector child safety organizations... I'm afraid if she persists, she'll eventually get someone to take her seriously. You could be in for a lot of trouble. In the name of protecting a child, some people feel they have to believe any accusation, at least at first. Innocence is irrelevant to them. If your baby ends up in the system, it could be months before you can get things straightened out. By that time..."
Bobby first paled until his face was chalky then flushed red. Darien knew instantly that he was about to explode, so he quickly handed Bobbi back to Eberts and rushed to kneel at his lover's side.
"Bert, stop. This won't do any good. You can't lose control right now. Staying calm is the only way you'll be able to think clear... and thinkin' clear is the only way we'll figure out how to stop the bitch for good."
Bobby resisted listening or giving up his rightfully-earned anger for a long few minutes, but eventually he released a deep slow breath and sagged into Darien's embrace. The atmosphere stayed silent and tense until Bobbi, tired of being passed around and talked about as if she weren't there, produced an angry grunt and slapped the flat of her hand firmly into Eberts' nose. He cried out, causing Claire and the others to look in his direction. A moment later the other four adults were laughing until tears ran down their faces.
"Oh, man..." Bobby gasped. "... sorry, Ebes. You know she hates bein' ignored. I'll take her..."
"No, no... I'm sure a large part of that little fit of pique was feeling like a hot potato. I'll keep her. Roberta, dear, I understand that you were unhappy, but hitting is no way to express how you're feeling. Not acceptable. Are we clear?"
Bobbi whined softly, touched his face with a gentle hand and dropped her face down, burying it in her Godfather's shoulder. "Je vous aime aussi, la bel enfant..." He intoned softly, cradling her against his chest and rocking slightly back and forth. "... et tout est pardonn?" (I love you too, beautiful child, and all is forgiven.)
Darien stared at the pair in wonder.
"What was that, Ebes?"
"Hmmm? Oh... I often speak to Roberta in French. She seems to genuinely enjoy hearing it."
"Yeah... but where'd you ever pick it up?" Bobby asked.
"Well... my mother spoke French fluently... still does. That was mostly what I heard growing up. I automatically revert whenever I go to visit, just to show her I haven't forgotten. It makes her very happy. As a matter of fact she even insists on my pronouncing our last name differently... as if I were looking at a grizzly."
"Ah... 'a-bear' instead of the way we say it." Claire murmured.
"Exactly. Oh dear... Roberta needs a diaper change. I'll be right back everyone. I'll bring the supplies to treat your arm when I return, Robert."
"Okay. Thanks, bud." Bobby acknowledged. "Steve... you didn't come here just to drop the bad news bomb, right?"
"Absolutely not. I shouldn't even be offering this, never mind doing it. We're not supposed to interfere with independent investigations of our cases, even when we know there's no basis for whoever it is to be sniffing around... but I can't stand to see this woman ruin so many lives and tear apart a perfectly healthy, happy home. I've got a very sneaky journalist friend who keeps his ear to the ground about anything involving kids in jeopardy. The minute he hears that your ex is getting any kind of real attention with the lies she's telling, he'll call me... and I'll make sure that whoever is investigating gets a copy of my report and the subsequent dismissal paperwork from my superiors. I may not be able to head Mrs. Whitson off at every pass... but I will damn sure see to it that I block every attempt I possibly can."
Darien laid a hand on Steve's shoulder.
"You're sayin' you could get in major trouble. Even lose your job, maybe."
"It's a possibility. It won't devastate me if it does happen. I've been thinking for a while now about the good I've done... and how the system has deteriorated so much that the chance of doing more good is getting less and less. I may be ready to get out. If I do, I'll just fall back on what my uncle's been begging me to do for three years."
"What's that?"
"Become an agent who exclusively represents talented, unknown artists." He said, smirking and looking directly up into Darien's eyes.
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TBC...
