Norma was having a panic attack. Alex stared at her, dumbfounded and yet full of clarity at the same time. He knew what he needed to do.. He needed to touch her, to bring her into his arms, to kiss her and tell her that everything would be all right. But he was frozen. He couldn't move. He couldn't act. He just stared at her while she lost the ability to breathe properly.

"OK, Alex," she managed to get out between hysterics. "I don't know why I said that. It's...crazy. Sam died...accident. Norman crying, Norman crying, he couldn't believe his father...dead... Accident, Alex. Accident."

"Norma?" Alex breathed.

"Alex?" Norma pleaded. "Alex?"

Later, looking back, Alex never quite recalled how he was able to do it- how he had gotten Norma to stand up, to walk with him, to reserve a room in the hotel, and walk Norma to the elevators, to get her up to Room 411, to get her to lie down, take her shoes off, and let him wipe her face with a cold washcloth. The staff of the hotel were very accommodating. They brought the meal and drinks they had ordered in the restaurant up to the room. Not that Alex had any intention of letting Norma drink anymore alcohol, but he did manage to coax her to eat some soup.

There was just silence for what seemed like hours. Alex kept spooning soup into Norma's mouth as long as she seemed desirous for more. When she turned over, on her side, away from him, he set the 3/4 empty container on the table between the room's double beds.

"Norma?"

"Alex?" She was tearful. "What I said... about Norman..."

Alex put his hand on her shoulder. "It's ok, Norma."

"Is it?" She asked, tears rolling down her cheeks uncontrollably. "There's no statute of limitations on murder."

Alex grimaced. "I know, but, don't worry. Just trust me, ok? Don't worry."

"He was trying to protect me, Alex. Sam was hurting me."

"It's ok, Norma. Don't worry."

"He blacked out. He forgot. He forgot, Alex. He doesn't know."

Alex laid down on the bed and spooned Norma against him. He held his tongue, despite having a million ideas of what to say to her right now. He wanted her to speak, to talk herself out, to feel safe enough to do so.

"The only other person who knows, besides now you, is Dylan. And Norman, although he doesn't know the details, and I never would have told him anything, but I had to tell him something. I'd rather he go on suspecting I might have done it rather than know the truth. Because no matter what, Norman's not going to hate me. Even if he thought I killed Sam, his father, he would never hate me. He would think I must have done it out of self-defense and his instinct would be to protect me. But knowing the truth, I know somewhere deep inside him, he hates himself for it. I know Norman. I know him better than anyone, even himself. He already tried to kill himself once."

"He did?" Alex blurted the words before he knew what he was doing. Norman attempted suicide? For a reason he couldn't quite put a label to, somehow that surprised Alex. Maybe it was because of his gradual, gut feelings that Norman was actually a danger to others, even if his mother didn't want to believe it. Somehow, it never occurred before to Alex that Norman was also a danger to himself.

"In the woods. Just after that Jimmy Brennan died. Norman took it really hard and I guess Cody said something to him. I don't know what she said, but after that whole thing happened, suddenly Norman is asking me, demanding for me to tell him about his father's death and what really happens to him when he blacks out. I wouldn't do it and he just became impossible to be around. It was right around the time you were breathing down my neck about that stupid polygraph."

"I wasn't breathing down your neck," Alex said, more defensively than he meant to. "I needed answers."

"Well, you got them, didn't you?"

"I guess."

Norma turned around in his arms and looked at him. "What do you mean? You guess?"

It broke Alex's heart how sad she looked. Her mascara was all smeared from so much crying but she was still so beautiful. So beautiful and so sad and helpless, and Alex felt helpless too, helpless to make it all ok for her, and that's what broke his heart.

In answer to her query, he shrugged and sighed. "I don't know, Norma." He couldn't look at her just now. He looked away at anything as he tried to formulate his doubts into words. "That polygraph... I... Ever since you told me about the blackouts, I just..."

Her jaw tightened and she seemed to be trying to keep herself from losing her temper. "You think... You think he only passed because he can't remember?"

Alex still could not look at her as he exhaled, rolled onto his back, and averted his eyes to the ceiling. How could he tell her about his fear that he'd become no better a man than his criminal father? That he'd become his worst idea of a sheriff- that sheriff who railroads a douchebag like Kyle Miller into prison for murder simply because he needs to close the case and, who the hell wouldn't believe a douchebag like Kyle Miller would slit the throat of a woman like Blair Watson? Two semen samples found in Blair Watson, one was Kyle Miller, convicted criminal, how convenient for the sheriff who happened to be frustrated and embarrassed that it was taking him so damn long to close the damn case. How convenient for the man falling in love with Norma Bates, to have a Kyle Miller to divert attention from Norma's son, who had been so weirdly close to his literature teacher and advisor, who had even been visiting her grave and taking pictures of another person, it turned out her own father, visiting her grave.

Norma took Alex's silence and refusal to look at her in the worst way. It fueled her anger. Actually, you could say it gave her the perfect excuse to be angry for the wrong reasons. She got up from the bed. Alex sat up and watched her put on her shoes and then grab her purse and finally move to the door. He jumped up and stopped her from leaving. She stood there, facing the door, defiant; and he held her just tightly enough to keep her from moving. It took every ounce of self-restraint to not start kissing her neck.

"Let me go, Alex."

"No. You had a lot to drink, Norma."

"No, I didn't."

"You had three glasses of wine."

"I'll call a cab."

"Norma, just come on and sit down. Let's talk about it."

"Why? So I can listen to you telling me you believe Norman is a murderer?"

"Norma."

"No, Alex!" She turned around and pushed him. Not having anticipated her to become physically combative, he lost his balance slightly and took a moment to steady himself. "I'm not going to listen to you talk to me about my own son who you barely know! It was a mistake to tell you anything! It was a mistake to think you're my friend! It was a mistake to ever trust you and believe me I'll never make that mistake again!"

Those last words hit him where it hurts most. The solar plexus. The words felt like a real punch in the gut. She'd never trust him again. He felt winded. He was losing her. Out of sheer desperation, he moved towards her and pinned her against the door. She tried to push him away, so he pinned her arms up above her head and held them there. Their faces were inches apart and he stared at her, right in the eyes, with grim determination, to say with his own eyes what he couldn't say in words. "You need to trust me, Norma."

"Why?" she barely managed to choke out, because she was crying again. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm always going to make sure nothing bad ever happens to you or either of your sons. Do you hear me?"

She couldn't speak. She just cried. She avoided his gaze. The way he was looking at her, the way it made her feel. The way no man had ever looked at her before. Not with so much love. Things no man had ever made her feel before. To feel so adored. To feel so safe. Because Norma couldn't help being Norma, she suspected Alex was just a very good actor, or a magician, and this was all an elaborate trick, to make her believe him and fall in love with him only to betray her.

"Don't touch me," she said. "Don't you dare touch me."

He let go of her immediately. And just like that, she was out the door.

He ran after her. "Norma!"

She refused to turn back. She almost ran down the hallway and right into the elevator, which had just opened. Alex almost knocked over the young, sweet, romantic couple who stepped off the elevator. He offhandedly, carelessly muttered "sorry" as he brushed past them to stand in the elevator with Norma. The doors closed and the elevator started its descent.

"I'm capable of arranging for a ride home, Alex. I'm tipsy, not drunk."

"No, I'm driving you home. I'm not leaving you alone."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm not your babysitter. I'm your friend." Alex could hardly believe he had said the word 'friend.' Alex Romero never had 'friends.' People, sure. People he worked with, dealt with, played with occasionally. But not friends. Norma Bates was the first to change that. And at the same time that it felt good to call himself her friend, and to have heard her recently, multiple times, describe him that way, it felt strangely empty. Not enough. It was satisfying in a way, to a point, to be her friend, but also not enough. No, it would never be enough to just be her friend.

As for Norma, she wanted more than anything to believe him, to trust him, even to let herself fall in love with him. (It was hard even to be mad at him for suspecting Norman only passed that polygraph because of his lost time, knowing deep down within herself that it was exactly the truth!) It was an epic battle that was raging inside her. Heart versus Head, Hope versus Experience, Mother versus Woman. For now, she decided to let Alex win this little, insignificant battle. She would let him drive her home. It wasn't worth the effort or the false sense of pride she might feel in "winning" the "privilege" of arranging her own transport. She just wanted to be home, to rest her head in her own bed, and pretend she was one of those shiny people who had "normal" lives. Maybe in her dreams she could be the kind of woman who could date a handsome man like Alex Romero without constantly worrying that the other shoe was about the drop.

They walked to the parking lot in silence. With one hand, he opened the passenger side door for her, his other hand hovering just over the small of her back. This was becoming a habit, and for just a second, Norma felt like they were one of those "normal" couples.

Then it happened. So suddenly, so quickly, so horribly, Norma hardly registered her own breathing. Gunshots. Alex bleeding, falling to the cement. The screeching tires of a black SUV racing past them.

OK. So I began this story on the premise that the shooting never happens, but it led me to Alex being shot anyway. Sorry about that. Don't worry, though. I will never write a story in which Alex would die. He's my favorite character in this godforsaken series. In my story, Alex will always live. So don't worry, reader. Just brace yourself for some angst and pain and drama. If anybody can survive it all, it's Alex! (Hell, Norma too, for that matter; and together, they're even stronger!) :-)