TILL I AM MYSELF AGAIN – Chapter 7/?

Please see Prologue for disclaimers.


Author's Note: I apologize for the loooong wait between updates. I think I jinxed myself last time by saying subsequent chapters would come more easily (sigh). This was supposed to be the part where Alex finally meets Mrs. Goren...but Bobby and Alex decided they weren't done talking, darn it. So the visit to Mom will be next. Anyway, many many thanks to those who are still reading and reviewing - I really appreciate your patience and your feedback!


"It's my mother."

Yikes, Alex thinks, pulling the sheet up over herself. Then she feels silly – Frances Goren can't see them, after all.

Bobby's lip twitches, and she waves a hand at him, embarrassed, as the phone buzzes again.

"Don't you think you'd better get that?"

"Right." He sits up straighter and takes a deep breath, flipping the phone open.

"Hi, Mom. How are you doing?"

She curls up on her side and tries not to be too obvious about watching him as he talks. She wonders if he's uncomfortable with her listening in, but he tilts his head to look down at her, and smiles a little.

"Yeah," he says into the phone. "She's here." Pause. "Uh – really? Mom…are you sure that's a good idea?"

A longer pause. Alex can't make out words, but Mrs. Goren sounds annoyed, and Bobby's jaw tightens.

Uh-oh, she thinks. She's not sure how well the hard-won balance they've just achieved will stand up to…well, anything…while it's still so new and fragile. I guess we'll see, won't we.

"All right…all right," says Bobby, conciliating. "I'll ask her. Yes, I promise. See you later, okay?

He shuts the phone and looks at it, pushing out a long breath.

"She…she wants you to come with me to see her, later today," he finally says.

And here we go, she thinks, bracing herself inwardly.

"Okay," she says slowly. "What about you – do you want me to come?"

With an abrupt movement he turns away from her, dropping the phone on the bedside table.

"No," he mutters. "Yes. I don't know."

He's hunched over the side of the bed with his back to her, and all of a sudden it feels like he's put a lot more than just a foot or so of distance between them. Damn it. Not again.

"What are you afraid of?" she asks, as gently as she can.

A long, tense pause. Then,

"I'm afraid of how she'll act," he says tightly, almost angrily. "Of what you'll th-think."

Oh, Bobby.

Staring at his back, she knows they've finally gotten to the truth, the real reason behind his resistance where his mother is concerned…and she's suddenly terrified of saying the wrong thing. Don't screw this up, Alex.

"You're afraid that if I spend time with your mom, that'll change how I think – feel – about you," she starts, feeling her way.

"I know you think it won't," he interrupts sharply. "But it will. You won't be able to help it. I've – it's been happening all my life. Starting with my father – her husband, Eames. He couldn't handle it, and he left us. And part of me – part of me doesn't blame him."

I'm happy to blame him enough for both of us, she thinks darkly. Bastard. So he found he couldn't deal – fine. He should at the very least have made sure she was getting the care she needed – that his sons were getting what they needed, for Christ's sake.

"But I'm not him," she says out loud. "I'm not any of those other people who got freaked out and left. I'm not. And I won't. I promise."

He sighs, and she can tell he doesn't really believe her.

What can I say that he'll trust? Nothing, probably. Time to try switching gears, then. Distract, deflect, manipulate…I learned from the best, after all.

"Is meeting someone new…meeting me…something that might upset her?" she asks tentatively.

"I - maybe," Bobby says. For a second she's afraid he'll stop there, shut down that avenue of conversation too – but then he continues slowly.

"She's - suspicious of strangers, in general. A lot of the new people she's had to meet lately are doctors, and her – her delusions do tend to be focused on the people taking care of her. She thinks we're secretly plotting to hurt her or deceive her about what's wrong…that she's not getting the right kind of treatment…"

He's talking in short, forced bursts and she can feel the effort it takes him to push the words out, but at least he has turned back towards her in his effort to explain. She sits very still and tries her hardest to project nothing but matter-of-fact sympathy.

"But you - you're…not in that category, so it might be okay. And she did ask to see you. I just – I just don't know, that's the problem…"

He sighs. "Maybe she'll be fine – but the thing is, even when she's doing well, she's…not easy to deal with."

"What is she like?" Careful, careful. Don't spook him.

"She's…abrupt. Not too good at following the thread of a normal social conversation…she goes off on tangents a lot, without any warning…says things that don't make sense…"

"Uh huh," Alex puts in dryly. "Like I haven't been dealing with that every day for the past seven years…"

Bobby shoots her a shocked look, and for an anxious second she's afraid that making a joke was the wrong move. Then he snorts, a surprised, relieved sound.

"Right," he says sheepishly. "But…she's worse than me, if you can imagine that. She isn't aware of how rude she can seem. Her affect is very – flat, a lot of the time. She says whatever goes through her head, she twists things around…she can be – quite brutal."

He's staring at his hands, compulsively smoothing the sheet across his knee. Suddenly he clenches his fists.

"It's just – so fucking unfair. She's my mother, for God's sake. You and she are the two most important people in my life…and I can't even introduce you without dreading the outcome."

"Oh, Bobby." The despair in his voice hurts to hear. "I hate that this is so hard for you. I don't know what to say to convince you that it doesn't matter."

She gazes at him, willing him to believe her. He won't meet her eyes, so she hitches herself closer and lets her cheek rest against his bare shoulder. He's stiff and tense, his skin cold to her touch, but she takes it as a hopeful sign that he doesn't pull away when she runs her hand down his arm and back up again in a slow caress.

"I mean – yeah, I want your mom to like me…I want us to be able to get along…but I want that for your sake," she continues softly. "I'm sorry for her, and I have a lot of respect for her, for what she's been through in her life – but when it comes right down to it, I am in this for you. Well, for us – you and me. Nothing that she says or does is going to change that."

"You can't promise that. You don't know what you're getting into," he says again, and this time she can't quite keep herself from pulling away, can't keep the frustration out of her tone.

"Stop saying that. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't promise, Goren! And besides – we go to work every damn day not knowing what we might be getting into. Weren't we just talking about this, for God's sake?!"

She takes a deep breath, scrubbing her hands through her hair, striving for calm.

"The past couple of months have been hell on wheels, right? But we survived. I survived. And the thing is, for me – in the past – that would have been the most important part: getting through it on my own."

A fleeting memory pops into her head: Dr. Nahdi, oh-so-neutral, saying your independence is important to you, isn't it. And how tempted she was to come back with well, no shit, Sherlock. But she didn't, and they actually ended up talking quite a lot about it, and it was the first time she admitted to herself that maybe she might learn something useful from her Department-ordered therapy.

"But this time – well, I know I'll be fine eventually, no matter what. But I also know that…that I'm better with you than I am alone. I just am."

Feeling exposed in all kinds of ways besides the obvious, she drags the sheet up over herself, and realizes that her hands are shaking. She wraps her arms around her knees, pulling them tight to her chest.

"And if you – if it's the same for you…"

"It is," Bobby cuts in, sounding shaky but determined. "God, of course it is."

That somehow makes it easier to breathe, to look at him.

"Then I think…I think you have to let me at least try to be there for you, with your mom," she says. "See…I don't think we can pick and choose the things we let each other in on, anymore. God knows, doing that hasn't been working for us lately. Maybe we've just – changed too much…and now it has to be all – or nothing."

For better or worse, she thinks, and then oh my god, I can't believe I just put it in those terms – even to myself.

And just like that she's on the verge of tears again, remembering the first (and only) time she thought those words and then, later, spoke them aloud and meant them. She lets her forehead drop to her bent knees.

Oh, Rory. It's so much harder now – now that I know just how bad "worse" can get. Wherever you are, I wish you'd lend me some of that annoying optimism of yours. I'm pretty sure I need it more than you do.

"Hey," says Bobby roughly. She feels his arms come around her. "Alex, don't…"

His voice is muffled in her hair. "I get it. I didn't mean to make you think I didn't. And you're right. I'm just…it's hard."

Silence for a moment, and then he lets out a long breath.

"But I want to try," he says. That brings her head up, because it's almost exactly what he said to her when they first decided to cross the line from friendship to something more, two years ago. Does he remember…? But this is Bobby Goren, who almost never uses words by accident, and anyway the look he's giving her now is the same as it was then, too: afraid and determined all at once, with joy buried deep underneath it all. She feels an answering warmth blossom painfully in her chest.

"I – we – can give it a try, with my mom," he continues. "See how it goes. Okay?"

"Okay. It'll be all right," she promises, watery-eyed and smiling, meaning more than just Frances Goren. We'll be all right. Look at how well things turned out last time we agreed to try something together.

"I hope so." He smoothes the tear-tracks away with a gentle thumb on her cheeks, and his eyes are saying I know. I'm counting on it.

"How'd you get to be so wise, anyway?" he asks lightly.

"Experience. And therapy," she says, knowing he'll laugh at the incongruity – Alex Eames, of all people, acknowledging the usefulness of her shrink. "You should try it sometime."

He snorts. "I have, as you well know. It's a work in progress…"

"Aren't we all…"

"Yeah."

Silence falls again. She leans against him, feeling drained. Not that I'm not glad that we seem to be getting somewhere…but at this rate I'm going to need a vacation from my vacation.

One minute you're waiting for the sky to fall
And next you're dazzled by the beauty of it all…
These fragile bodies of touch and taste
This fragrant skin, this hair like lace
Spirits open to a thrust of grace
Never a friend you can afford to waste
Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight
Gotta kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight...

-- Bruce Cockburn, "Lovers in a Dangerous Time"

TBC in Chapter 8...