By the Book Chapter 21

Alex headed out to Bobby's apartment, and walked into a disaster area. She had forgotten the mess that had been left in the chaos of Bobby's arrest. There were still the beer bottles lying all around, newspapers, everything. Bobby had had the first of his police beatings a few days prior to his actual arrest, and hadn't been moving around too well, hence, the disinterest in cleaning at that particular point in time. There was dust all over, the entire place needed vacuuming, and the refrigerator…wow! She couldn't imagine where everyone's heads were to completely miss the fact that his apartment might need to be checked on periodically. Thank God no one had broken in during this time, although right now it'd be hard to tell. She was thankful she had taken the next day off to bring Bobby home; it was going to take her the better part of the night to clean this place up.

It was homecoming day, Bobby was finally leaving the hospital. Bobby was antsy, it seemed to be taking forever for everything to come together. At last the doctor came in, and pronounced him reasonably sound to go home, as long as there would be someone to help. Bobby assured him there would be.

One of the first problems Bobby encountered even before he left was getting dressed. Alex had brought him some clothes, jeans and a button down shirt, and just to make sure, she also brought sweats. A good thing, cause Bobby couldn't manage the jeans with just one injured arm. While Alex waited outside his room, he tried, but it just hurt ungodly. He finally gave up, rested a minute or two, and then tried the sweats. They weren't much better. He swore softly.

"Eames!" he called. Alex poked her head in, but didn't see him; he was dressing, or trying to, in the bathroom.

"What?" she asked.

"Could you, uh, send the orderly in?"

"Yeah, sure."

A few minutes later an orderly came in, and left a few minutes later, telling Alex she could go in now.

Going back into his room, Alex found it hard not to laugh. He was wearing his button down shirt with the sweats, the only combination that would work. "Nice outfit," she told him, with a little affectionate sarcasm.

"You brought it," he countered.

"You forgot your tie." This time she did laugh. "What did you need the orderly for?" Alex asked, knowing full well what he needed the orderly for. She just wanted him to admit it, to admit he needed help. Which he would never do.

"I just wanted to remind him I still needed my scripts, and to tell my nurse."

She was about to call him on this, when, as if on cue, his nurse came in with his scripts. Damn he was good!

"This one is for pain," the nurse told him. "Take it every four hours as needed. You have one refill. And this is your antibiotic. He wants you to continue on the antibiotic for another couple of weeks to insure that there's no chance of infection in your face. And Doctor Preston wants to see you in one month."

She handed him a list of "do's" "don'ts" and "what to do ifs", and went over everything as Bobby listened patiently.

"So, are we ready to go?" Bobby asked seconds after the nurse finished.

"Uh, yes," Alex said, surprised at the suddenness of his request.

Bobby stood up and gently kissed his nurse on the cheek. "Thank you, you've been very kind to me."

She actually blushed. "Good luck," she told him. "I'd like to say 'come back and see us', but that's probably not the appropriate thing to say." Bobby gave her that beautiful smile of his.

They made him ride down to the lobby in a wheelchair, (hospital policy) and Alex went on ahead to get the car. They helped Bobby up, and for the first time in months he felt like he could breathe. Like he was free. There was no way in hell he was ever going back.

On the way to Bobby's place they made small talk, although Bobby was already preoccupied.

"So how's it feel to be out?" Alex asked.

Bobby frowned. "How the hell do you think it feels?"

Sorrree! Alex thought.

"That was a pretty stupid thing to say. Sorry."

After a few moments Alex started again. "So have you been in touch with any of your neighbors since you knew you were getting out?"

"No." Actually Bobby was not looking forward to this part of the homecoming. He was pretty sure he'd either be ostracized, or totally ignored. But after what he'd been through, he figured he could pretty much handle anything. He was used to being alone, anyway. "They probably won't want much to do with me. I'm still under arrest, accused of murder. Remember?"

It was pretty obvious there was a lot on Bobby's mind, so Alex gave up trying to draw him into a conversation, and the ride home was relatively quiet and uneventful.

If Bobby had been worried about a bad reception, he needn't have. Hardly anyone was at home; it was early in the day and most of his neighbors were at work or otherwise occupied. A couple of his older neighbors were there, however, and welcomed him home profusely.

The elderly Madison sisters were thrilled to see him again, and Clara reached up on tippy toes, took his face in both hands and pinched his cheek, telling him he was a "good boy." And Carla went on, clucking her tongue about the "poor man." Bobby was a little embarrassed about all this, with Alex watching amusedly, but mostly he was relieved. He honestly hadn't expected to be greeted so warmly. And then the sisters offered to take care of him, to look in on him regularly and bring him food. This, he hadn't expected. And this, he really didn't want.

Alex grinned. "Well," she said, "I guess this takes care of one problem."

Bobby looked at her. "Ha Ha" he replied sarcastically.

Throughout the course of the evening, a number of his neighbors dropped by, welcoming him home, wishing him good luck with his upcoming trial, condemning the dearly departed Nicole. Almost all of the tenants knew him well enough to believe he wasn't capable of murder. Overall, a very good reception.

There were a few exceptions, of course. One of these occurred when six-year-old Thomas Main arrived home with his mother, and first saw Bobby. He was extremely excited. Bobby was his hero, and Bobby was also very fond of Thomas.

"Bobby!" Thomas ran to him, throwing his arms around Bobby as best as he could, trying to hug him. Bobby wanted to swoosh the little curly haired boy up in his arms like he always did, but his injuries obviously prevented that. Seeing Bobby's arms both in slings, he looked up at him in wonder.

"Did you get shotted, Bobby?" His blue eyes were huge. Turning to his mother, he shouted, "Look, Mommy! Bobby got shotted!" He chattered on as though Bobby had never left. "Bobby, look, I got a ga…ga…a glider! You throw it and it goes up in the air a hundred thousand miles! Where's your gun, Bobby? Did the bad guy--"

His mother, who had always been very friendly with Bobby, suddenly grabbed her young son. She had a strange look on her face.

"Come on, Thomas, we don't want to bother the man."

"He's all right—" Bobby started, but the look in her eyes, the fear, told him everything. Without a word to Bobby, she dragged the protesting Thomas back to their apartment. Although she lowered her voice, he could hear her telling him, "You're not to go over there again, Thomas! Ever!" He watched Thomas, crying, demanding to know why he couldn't see his Bobby.

Alex watched Bobby closely, waiting for him to lose it, ready to catch him. But there was no reaction. "Let's go inside," he told her.

Once inside his apartment, Alex turned Bobby to face her, and looking into his eyes, told him, "That was one person, Bobby. One person! Do not let this bring you down!"

His eyes dropped. "I know. That one… just really hurt."

God damn it! She had hoped this wouldn't happen, but realistically, she knew it would. And it could have gone a lot worse.

"Bobby…?"

Bobby sighed, dropping onto his couch. "I'm alright, Eames. Really. I know there are always going to be people who won't, can't, trust in me ever again. Even if I'm acquitted, there will always be some. The nature of the beast, you know? Guess I'm going to have to live with it." Then he smiled. "But you know what? I'm out, I'm free. Tomorrow I'm gonna get Joe over here, and we're going to work our asses off on this case. And tomorrow night, how about you and me, dinner out, then hit 'Mac's' for a while? I'm telling you, Eames, I'm gonna make the most out of this!"

"Whoa, hold on there, Bobby! Why don't we give you a few days to settle in, recuperate a little, and then we go out. Okay?"

He realized she was right; just the trip home had worn him out. "Yeah, okay. By the way, Eames, the place looks great. Thank you," he said sincerely. He then looked her in the eyes. "And I promise you, I am okay."

A few days later

Assistant Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly was pacing in his study when Jake walked in. He watched his father for a moment, then finally said, "You gonna let me in on what's going on, Old Man?"

Mark, totally stressed, blew up at his son. "Why the fuck can't you ever show a little respect!" Mark was really fed up with Jake, his morals, and virtually everything associated with his son.

"Sorry, Dad," Jake said sarcastically, causing Mark to frown.

"Jake…"

"C'mon, Dad, what's going on?"

Despite his conscience bothering him terribly, his first concern was his son. "I don't know, everything is falling apart! My detective…Detective Goren? He's out on bail."

Jake paled. "What? I thought you said he'd never get bail!"

"I…I didn't think he would…"

"And what's this, 'my' detective shit? He ain't your son, Dad! I AM!"

Mark stared at his son. "What are you talking about? I know—"

"It just seems like since the beginning of this, you've cared more about his problem than mine."

"That is absolutely untrue, Jake! You're the one—"

"That's fucking great, Dad!" Jake shouted, ignoring him. "What? He's gonna solve the fucking case himself! Now what are we supposed to do?"

"I told you before, Jake. You don't do a thing! I'll handle everything."

"Looks like you ain't doing such a great job, Dad. Maybe I should take over. I know just what—"

Mark was on Jake in a second, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and getting within inches of Jake's face. "Stay out of this, Jake! Stay out of this or I'll…"

"Or you'll what, Dad?" Jake said, not giving an inch. Mark slowly released Jake's shirt and literally crumpled into his desk chair. He had no answer for his son.

"That's what I thought." Jake smiled.

tbc