A/N: Minor change of format here...This developed into a very tender and personal chapter, kind of intense, so I switched to first name use. After what Frank said about Bobby's "firsts," I figured Alex wouldn't let that go, so this is what came of it. I actually wrote more, but I'll leave it to you fine folks to give me the feedback on whether to let it go or let Alex pursue it with him a little deeper.

Bobby went to sleep in the early afternoon, after his mother's eventful departure, but his sleep was more restless than usual, even with Alex right there, offering comfort and a tender touch. Memories faded into nightmares until neither was distinguishable from the other, stressing both his body and his mind. His day nurse conferred with his doctor to get him a stronger medication cocktail through the night, one that would treat both his physical pain and the psychological pain that caused him worse distress. The narcotic sent his pain off to another realm, while the sedative calmed his busy mind and tense body, taking away the disturbing thoughts on which he obsessed. Together, they gave him a semblance of peace so that he could rest.

He woke for dinner, but only barely. Alex coaxed him to finish off a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee. He wasn't much for conversation. He tried, but he wasn't making a lot of sense, and as amusing as Alex found him to be, she knew that he needed more rest. He wasn't ready to rejoin the world of the coherent.

His night nurse came into the room to check on him periodically. She gave him a dose of medication just before midnight, and then she left him alone, trusting that he would sleep through the rest of the night. From a restless sleep laced with pain, he settled into a deeper, medication-induced sleep.

Alex dozed for a couple of hours, undisturbed by his restlessness, but she didn't sleep well. Every time she dozed off, she heard Frankie Sutter's shrill voice, screaming at her sons, rife with criticism and unreasonable demands, or she saw Frankie's face, contorted with rage, screaming at children too young to understand that they had done nothing wrong. She couldn't imagine what life with her had been like for two young boys without even a father as a buffer between her and them. A loving father would have made a world of difference for those boys. She felt a deep sympathy for Bobby and Frank, but she knew she had to keep that to herself. Bobby would construe her sympathy as pity and that would damage their relationship, possibly beyond repair. She would not allow that to happen.

She woke deep in the night, well before dawn. She slid from the bed without waking him. He was still sleeping soundly when she returned to the bed from the restroom and snuggled into the comfort of his embrace. She had just dozed off when a change in his breathing woke her. She felt the difference in his body; he was more tense, more restless. He was awake. She waited to see what he would do.

He shifted restlessly for a few minutes as his mind cleared. He noticed that she was still in the bed with him, and he placed a kiss on her temple before he struggled to sit up. The hours that had passed after Sutter led his mother away were lost to him. He rubbed the back of his head and his neck, stretched his back and tried to look through the shadows in the room. Many years ago, monsters had lurked in the shadows around him, but Frank had chased them away. The monsters were gone, replaced by a vague, nameless darkness that haunted him just as ruthlessly. In recent weeks, Alex had helped to chase it away, but it returned with his mother and he wasn't sure it would go away this time.

He tensed when the door opened, spilling light from the hallway into the room, chasing the darkness into the corners. The nurse smiled at him as he squinted in the light. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

He considered his answer as though it were a trick question. "Okay," he finally replied.

Alex was glad that he was coherent, but she let him think she was still asleep. The nurse approached the bed. "Why don't I help you to the bathroom?"

She lowered the bed rail and stood by in case he needed help. He was a little unsteady, but he waved her off and crossed the room on his own. When he returned to the bed, the nurse took his vitals and asked if he needed anything for the pain. The ache in his side was slowly advancing toward pain, and his bruises hurt like hell, but he declined her offer. She accepted his answer and raised the bed rail while he tried to get comfortable and not wake Alex. "Call me if you change your mind," the nurse said.

He nodded and she left the room, taking the light with her when she closed the door. Alex heard the change in his breathing when the room returned to darkness. He muttered softly under his breath and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, not that he had any luck lately getting comfortable in any position. Finally, he settled on his side, facing her, and tucked his arm around her. He was as comfortable as he got. Unable to escape the discomforts of his body or his mind, he was settling into a dreadful mood. Sensing his foul mood, Alex knew that she would have only one chance to disrupt that mood and possibly improve it. Of course, the chance was equally good that she would make it worse, but she had to give it a try.

Gently, she slid her hand along his waist, to his side and up to his healing wound. She rubbed her fingers over and around the contours of his injury. He caught his breath, then softly exhaled. He rested his hand lightly on her hip and pressed his forehead against her head. "Did I wake you?" he asked.

"No," she answered, lightly scraping her nails over the injury.

He groaned softly and kissed her cheek. "It's, uh, it's...early..."

"I know. I didn't sleep well."

He changed his position, reluctantly trading her tender ministrations for a better view of her face in the green glow of the display on his IV pump. "Why not?"

She knew she couldn't lie to him, but if she told him the truth, he was likely to get upset, to try taking responsibility for her unrest. She chose a third option: avoidance. It was a favorite of his. She searched his eyes. In the dark of the room, they looked deep, endless. Impulsively, she touched his jaw, forgetting the bruise there until he winced involuntarily. "I'm sorry," she murmured automatically, leaning close to kiss the injury.

He turned his head, moving his mouth the few inches that separated their lips, and she felt his body relax during the tender expression of love. He released her without going in for a deeper kiss. Although he was troubled, he wasn't seeking the escape sex normally provided him, which surprised her as much as her own disappointment did. Her body was ready for his, nearly humming with an anticipation that he did not seem inclined to pursue.

Her eyebrows dipped into a concerned frown. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he answered too quickly, his irritation returning with the ache of his bruises, a sore reminder of his mother's chaotic visit.

She thought about turning on the light and undressing, something that was sure to ignite a fire in him, however, the sight of the bruises his mother had given her was likely to make his mood even worse. He was going to be a bear all day—grizzly, not teddy—if she didn't do something to change it. Steering her mind away from Frankie, knowing that the answer was not within any of her cruel words, she thought about the things Frank had said before his mother arrived. I was there for all his firsts... She remembered Bobby's reaction to the idea that Frank had discussed his first sexual encounter with her. He wasn't exactly embarrassed—sex didn't embarrass him. And he wasn't irritated. It was something else, something that might be enough to change his mood around and keep him from being grumpy and difficult all day long. Her other option would be to have the nurses continue to keep him medicated, but that would delay his discharge. They were planning to stop the IV medication and switch to pills to gauge his level of pain control, his last step before discharge. He wouldn't complain about getting rid of the IV, but he would complain about everything else if his mood didn't lighten. It was worth a try.

"So..." she began softly, settling comfortably against his side and lightly caressing his chest. "What's this I hear about your first time?"

"My...uhm, my first what?"

"Frank told us he was there for all your firsts—the important ones, anyway. The first time you got drunk, the first time you got high and the first time you got laid. I didn't think they all happened together at the same time."

He became very uncomfortable. "What else did he say?"

"Enough to get me curious. Come on, tell me. I know you're not shy about it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know you, Bobby. You're not shy about sex. Remember the janitor's closet down by the morgue?"

His expression changed and he smiled. "I remember. But, uhm, why...why revisit the past?"

"Because I'm curious." She lightly scratched his side. "And because I'm hoping they might be good memories for you. Come on. Tell me."

Her light, teasing manner penetrated his bad mood. He rubbed his forehead and pursed his lips. "Tell me about yours?"

She smiled. Fair was fair. His reluctance to discuss it made her more curious. Most of the guys she'd dated were only too happy to regale her with tales of their sexual prowess during their first encounters, although none of them asked about hers. Bobby was unique in so many ways. She was glad to share with him; she had nothing to hide. "There's nothing much to tell," she said. "His name was Jared. I was seventeen, a junior. He was a year older. When my dad found out, it wasn't pretty—he wanted to shoot the guy. Thankfully, my mom had a cooler head and she talked him out of it. I was lucky Jared would even speak to me again, but I guess he liked me more than he was scared of my dad. I went to the senior prom with him that year."

"Let me guess...captain of the football team?"

She laughed. "Actually, the basketball team. I like 'em tall."

To emphasize her claim, she stretched her body along the length of his, extending every muscle, though she knew she was battling a thirteen inch difference. She even stretched her lips out until they made contact with his. He smiled against her mouth as she kissed him, and then he softly laughed. "I'm glad you like 'em tall," he replied.

His mood was already much improved, she was pleased to see. She kept her body pressed against his. "Tall men present an extra challenge for me, although I will give you fair warning. Never, ever hold something up out of my reach. First of all, it pisses me off. Secondly, it's very high school and you're better than that...except when you're with Logan, but I deal with it." She smiled when he laughed again. "And lastly, you won't like the consequences."

He looked interested. "Oh?"

She grinned. "I guarantee you won't like it. I don't make a fool of myself reaching or jumping for something I know I can't reach. So I make it easy for myself...and painful for you."

She stroked her hand over him to make a point. He closed his eyes at the gentle contact, thrusting his hips to push against her hand, which made her smile and gently rub a little more. He looked at her and his mouth curled into a smile to match hers. "Ah. I get the message."

"Good. Now...tell me about your first time."

He became uncomfortable again and averted his gaze. "There's not much to tell," he said, repeating her words.

She shook her finger at him. "It's only fair. I told you about mine."

He hooked his finger around hers. "No, all I know is that you were seventeen and your father was pissed. I need more than that."

She shifted in the bed and turned on a light. If she was going to have this conversation, she wanted to see his face in a brighter light than that cast by his IV pump. "You first," she said, smiling.

He started to object, but she kissed him into silence and tickled his waist. "Come on," she said softly. "Cooperate with me for once."

"You mean let you have your way?"

She smiled brightly and melted his heart. Trailing her fingers over his lips, she said, "Please."

He caught her index finger with his lips and drew it into his mouth, gently sucking and teasing it with his tongue. The entire dynamic of their conversation was changing, and if she wasn't careful, she was going to end up under him, knowing nothing more than she did when the conversation began. She succeeded in changing his mood, but now she wanted to hear his story, one he was reluctant to tell. She had a new goal now.

He paused, looking into her eyes and letting his mind wander for a minute. He didn't have anything to gain by opening that part of his life to her. Damn Frank for setting that can of worms in front of her with a can opener. But...letting her have her way...that was always worth it for him, and her hands...dammit, her roaming hands were driving him crazy, and she knew it. He would never get back to sleep now, not without addressing the flames she continued to stoke in him. That would only happen, it seemed, if he cooperated. Maybe he could get away with telling the bare bones of the story. Maybe he could distract her the way she distracted him. Maybe hell would freeze over, too. Damn.

Her hands had returned to his abdomen, just above the waistband of his pajama pants. He found it difficult to focus, but he tried. "I, uhm, I was fifteen...the end of the summer...uh, Labor Day weekend. Frank took me to a barbecue at his buddy's place, out on Long Island, right before school started."

"You were a sophomore so he'd have been..."

"He'd just graduated."

"And he had a buddy who lived on Long Island?"

"Yeah. It was a big place with a huge yard. And the party was big, lots of people. Frank had a lot of buddies beyond the world we lived in, people he was careful to protect me from."

"Yet he let you tag along to a party given by his drug buddies? My brothers never let me tag along with them to after school activities, let alone parties."

He shrugged. "He was trying to lure me out of my shell. I was a shy kid, and I would have stayed home reading a book if he hadn't dragged me out to that party."

She smiled. "I can see that. But I don't know about you being shy, Casanova."

He squeezed her hand. "I was very shy, uncertain of myself in everything outside academics, and even in that, I worked hard not to be noticed."

"Why?"

He shifted uncomfortably, moving his shoulder in a weak imitation of a shrug. "I had yet to discover my worth in life. Frank wasn't very good at undoing the damage my mother had done to me."

"Did that party help?"

He nodded and smiled a shy smile that she always found endearing. "I wasn't very confident, and that bothered Frank. He made up for what I lacked, but he wanted to see me having fun. Dad taught him to be charming, but I was only nine when he left, so Frank had to teach me. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure how, so he, uh, enlisted some help."

He fell silent and watched her in the soft light, waiting to hear more of her story and tell less of his. She realized that she wasn't going to get the full story from him without telling her tale as well. He was skilled at the tit for tat game he played with suspects, especially Nicole Wallace, who gave him plenty of practice. The medication he was currently receiving interfered with his judgment and increased his tendency to be impulsive. Normally one to overthink every conversation, the narcotics in his system bypassed that safety feature in his mind, leaving him more open and vulnerable than she had ever known him to be, but if he ever realized she was exploiting the tactics he used with Wallace, he would shut right down and never trust her again. She was playing a risky game, but there was no other way to get him to open up to her.

"I was very outgoing," she said with a smile. "I was a tomboy for most of my childhood, and kind of a bully. The boys I knew were scared of me until high school."

He smiled. "Is that why no one scooped you up until you were a junior?"

"Probably."

He studied her face. "You can be intimidating," he admitted.

She laughed. "To you?"

"Sometimes...when you're mad. I don't like it when you're mad."

"So don't make me mad," she said simply.

"That's never a goal of mine, believe me."

She stroked the palm of his hand with her thumb, smiling when she felt his body respond. "So...was she Frank's friend?"

"Sh-She?"

He didn't realize she had shifted tracks. By keeping him off balance, she found she could easily knock him off course. "The girl he hooked you up with at that party."

"Oh. Yeah. She grew up with him; they were in the same class since kindergarten."

"So he asked her to have sex with you?"

"It's not like she was a hooker..."

"I didn't mean that."

"Frank knew I wasn't likely to ask a girl out, but he also knew that if he...showed me what I was missing, then things would change. Back then, even when I was drunk, I wasn't much of an extrovert. I mean, I had friends, and a few of them were girls, but the girls I was friends with weren't ones I was interested in sleeping with. Frank decided it was time to show me how different it was, being with a girl. She thought I was cute, so he asked her to...help him...show me..."

"And she was willing."

"More than willing," he said with a tender smile. "Did anyone set you up with Jared?"

She smiled to hide her frustration with his stubborn insistence on returning to her story. "Kind of. My best friend knew I liked him, and he was her partner in science lab. She found out that he liked me, too. So after one of the first basketball games of the season, she got us together, and we took it from there."

"How did your dad find out?"

Her face flushed at the memory. "We'd been dating for a couple of weeks. He brought me home, and we were making out in his car. Dad came out and...saw more than he expected to see."

He arched his eyebrows. "You were..."

"Not yet, but we were well on our way. He had my shirt open, and I had my hand down his pants. I was mortified...and so was Dad."

He laughed. "I can imagine."

She poked him gently. "It wasn't funny. So what happened between you and...what was her name?"

"Uh, tell me about Jared first."

He didn't realize what he was doing. Talking about his past was as painful for him as living it had been, and her willingness to offer up the same information encouraged him to talk. Tit for tat—his fuzzy mind didn't make the connection. She let him get away with it. "He was almost as tall as you, muscular, athletic, with curly blond hair and blue eyes. I dated him for about nine months and my dad didn't kill him."

He recognized that Jared resembled Joe, but he didn't point that out. She didn't either, and her hands kept moving. He relaxed a little more. "Her name was Marley. She was tall and curvy, brunette, dark eyes and long, soft hair."

She trailed her fingers along his waist. His memory was one thing that rarely ever failed him, and she was opening doors that had been closed for many years. "So what happened at the barbecue?"

"Frank asked me what I thought of her. It was a game he liked to play, asking me what I thought of a girl, you know, guy talk...trying to get me interested."

"Did it work?"

He nodded, absently playing with her hair, stroking it over her shoulder and letting his hand continue to her breast. She didn't stop him. "Every time...but it never went anywhere because I wasn't sure where to take it. I felt...what I was supposed to feel, but I was frustrated as hell because...I was all revved up with nowhere to go. I mean, I knew what to do...I just didn't know how to go about...doing...it. Frank was just as frustrated with me because I never did anything with the ammunition he gave me. Marley helped me to change all that."

"If you were so shy, how did Frank get you to ask her?"

"I didn't ask. Frank knew I wouldn't. So he, uhm, he started his game and added a few beers. He, uh, he-he got me...interested in her. But then...he didn't stop, like he usually did. He...he lit up a joint, to loosen me up. By the time he got us together...well, he, uh, I mean I...I was...ready for her. I never had to ask because he'd already taken care of that."

He was flustered by the memory, which was very powerful for him. She pressed herself against him and he trembled, slipping his shaking hands under her shirt, which he worked up over her head. "Was Frank there?" she asked, letting him explore her body, knowing well exactly where it would lead.

He saw the bruises and he frowned, touching each one. "Alex..."

"Never mind those," she insisted. "We'll talk about them later. Tell me about Marley and Frank. Did he leave you to it?"

"What? Oh, uh..." He closed his eyes and struggled against his physical reaction to the memory of his first lover and the actions of his current one. He focused on his breathing and she let him be for a minute, until he opened his eyes. He was calmer, although his eyes still blazed with the heat of desire and his hands trembled with the effort to keep them off her body. His restraint and his ability to focus beyond powerful stimulation fascinated her. "F-Frank was there, uh, at first. I don't know when he left. I was kind of...focused on Marley. He...He told me, later, that he got us...ready for each other. I don't remember what that entailed. I just remember...her."

"How wasted were you?"

His hands were moving again, along her sides, over her breasts, which were still nestled in her bra. He nuzzled her neck, nipped, licked, sucked, before he answered, "I was...I was pretty wasted. Five or six beers, maybe more. At least half a joint."

"And you remember what happened?"

He nodded. "Oh, God, yes, I remember. She made it...uh, it was good for me. Very, very good. Frank...did a good thing for me...with Marley. I started to gain confidence with girls because of her."

"So she was your first girlfriend."

"No, I wouldn't call her that. We didn't date. She was my first, uh, my first lover, but she had a boyfriend. We just got together, uhm, often, depending on what I wanted, for about a year until she left for college in Virginia and we lost touch."

"Her boyfriend didn't mind?"

He shook his head. "No. He liked me. He liked the tenderness I brought out in her, among other things. Marley was a free spirit, and he never made the mistake of trying to contain her, to own her. She was also very...uninhibited. She was raised in, uhm, in a 'free love' home. Since I grew up in pretty much a 'no love' home, except for Frank, she taught me a lot about love and loving."

"Did Frank sleep with her, too?"

"I never asked, but I think he did. I didn't care about that. Marley taught me that sharing could be...a lot of fun. Sometimes, she'd come over alone, but just as often, she wasn't alone. Her boyfriend would be with her or a girl friend. We'd, uh, we'd hang out with some beer and a couple of joints and...we'd, uh...play around. Marley liked to...experiment."

"You were okay with that?"

"I was more than okay with it. I...I did anything she asked me to do."

"You have a good memory," she said. "An exceptional memory. Your first time, your first lover was very special."

His eyes burned bright with his memories of Marley and what she had done to him...and for him. He pressed himself against her, slipping a hand past the waistband of her pants. His voice was strained, intense. "Every time is special in its own way and so is every lover. Each one created special memories for me."

Every time they had a serious talk, she learned anew what a special man he was. He had an astounding mind, which was coming into play now as he resurrected the memories she asked of him. Although he wanted to hear more about her first experience, he was in desperate need of more than just talk.

His memories of Marley, buried for so long, were still very intense. He hadn't thought of her in years, but she had been very good to him. She'd taught him to have confidence in himself, in his burgeoning skill as a lover. She'd also taught him how to both give and receive pleasure in many ways. Frank taught him charm, and Marley showed him what to do after that.

Alex brushed her hand over the evidence of what those memories did to him. Powerfully aroused, he sought relief in the touch of her hand as she continued to lightly stroke him, but he needed more. He pushed her pants over her waist, unwilling to wait much longer. He was done talking for the moment.

She teased him until he couldn't take it any more before she let him have his way with her. He didn't last long at all. Just a few hard strokes and he was gone, spinning off into a world of his own, where only she could follow. Of all the lovers he'd had in his life, only she had captured his heart.