CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bobby said nothing as they drove back to the safe house. Alex and Stahl exchanged concerned looks, but didn't know what to say to each other or Bobby.

"How long with the FBI take care of us?"

Stahl and Alex both jumped at Bobby's voice.

"I…I'm not sure," Stahl said. "Certainly until after the corruption case is settled." In truth, she wasn't sure how long the Bureau would extend its protection and hospitality.

Bobby stared out the SUV window.

"You've been good to us," Alex said, directing the words to Stahl. "But I have to admit I'm missing home."

"Home," Bobby said flatly. "I wonder where…"

Before Alex could respond, the driver spoke. "We're being followed."

The agent in the front passenger seat checked the mirror on his side of the car. "Looks like a cop car."

"Lose it," Stahl ordered. "We can't compromise the safe house, and I don't want anyone annoying Ms. Eames and Mr. Goren."

"With pleasure," the driver said, and proceeded to take the SUV through a series of twists and turns that left Alex, born and bred in and knowing most of the byways of the five boroughs, totally lost until they reached the safe house.

"I'm starting to believe what they say about you, Reynolds," Stahl said as she helped Alex and Bobby out of the car. "You could drive for NASCAR."

"Naw," Reynolds said. "Too easy. They only turn in one direction. You guys get inside, and I'll make sure no one followed us."

Bobby walked into the house as if a great weight sat on his shoulders

"Are you ok, Bobby," Alex asked gently. "Are you hungry?"

"Uh…Fine. I'm fine. I'm not hungry." His voice was flat and hollow. "I'm pretty wiped out. I think I'll go upstairs and try to get some sleep."

He and Alex entered the house, and Bobby started up the stairs. He stumbled, and Alex rushed to him.

"I'm all right," he insisted. "Just tired."

Alex hovered near him. "Are you sure? Do you want me to go up with you?"

"No. Really. I'm fine." He tried to smile, but the result was far from reassuring. "I just need a little time to rest. Think. A little time alone. I'll be ok, I promise you, Alex. Just a little time."

Alex hesitated. She desperately wanted to take care of Bobby, but also knew she had to trust him and let him deal with everything that had hit him during the day.

"Ok," she said, trying not to show her uncertainty and doubt. "You get some rest. If it's ok, I'll see you later. It'll make me feel better, and then maybe you'll be hungry."

Bobby stared at the stairs for several moments as conflicting thoughts appeared to sweep through his mind. "Ok," he finally said.

Alex watched him slowly walk up the stairs and to his room. She turned and saw Stahl, at the bottom of the stairs, also watching Bobby.

"He asked me a legitimate question," Stahl said. "I wonder…Would you or Mr. Goren consider working for the FBI?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't," Alex said truthfully. "And I doubt Bobby would. If we can't make the NYPD happy, I don't think we could keep the FBI happy. But you should ask Bobby. At least it would make him feel useful."

"You'd both be great additions to the Bureau," Stahl said wryly. "At least in my opinion. But I'm afraid it has its bad points. Maybe more than the NYPD."

"And I suspect Bobby has a lot of baggage with some people, especially as far as Declan Gage is concerned," Alex said. She and Stahl walked towards the kitchen.

"Yea. I'm afraid I had a lot of ideas about Mr. Goren because of that," Stahl said. "Once I met him, once I really looked into his history with Gage, I got a very different picture."

"At least you changed your mind," Alex said. "A lot of people won't. I have to admit, I'd love to be able to have Thanksgiving with my family. I might even be able to persuade Bobby to come."

"I hope everything is over by then," Stahl said wearily She moved towards the counter where the coffee pot rested. "Even if it isn't, we'll find a way to get you to your family. I'd like to have Thanksgiving with my family too." She lifted the pot, but turned to Alex. "Would you say we're off duty?"

Alex smiled sadly. "I don't have any duty to be on."

"There's a nicely stocked bar just off the living room," Stahl said. "I could use something stronger than coffee."

"So could I," Alex said. "And I could show you how I funded my way through college and the academy. I make a mean margarita."

When he stumbled into his room, Bobby shed his suit, tie, and shirt, tossing them on the chairs. He moved into the bathroom, slipped off his underwear, and spent a long time in a hot shower, desperately trying to wash away the smells and sound and sights of the day. The shower was strong and there was plenty of hot water. Bobby's skin was pink and puckered by the time he turned off the water. He luxuriated in the steam filled room for a few moments, and left the bathroom surrounded by a cloud. He put on a clean T-shirt, boxers, and pajama pants, and fell on the bed.

He lay on his back on the large, comfortable bed. The FBI was taking good care of Alex and him. He thought the bed might be bigger than the one he used to own. It was certainly newer and more comfortable.

The light in the room grew dimmer. "Nearly winter," Bobby thought. "Night coming sooner." He shivered, and pulled the blankets and sheet over his body.

"What," he thought. "Am I going to do? Where am I going to go?"

All of his life, or at least all of his adult life—and it seemed to Bobby his time as a child had been very brief—two things had defined him. One was caring for his mother; the other was work. Now, his mother was dead, and there was no work.

"What am I?" Bobby whispered. "Who am I?"

The growing shadows offered no answers.

END CHAPTER FOURTEEN