BOBBY

She's floundering and she has been for the last week or so. He's seen all of the signs – the distant look she's gotten while going over her paperwork, the distracted tone of voice she's used in some of their conversations – so he's been dreading this phone call and praying that it wouldn't come. In all truth, this day has been on Bobby's mind for a while, though. Not only is it a birthday, but it's also an anniversary of sorts for him. It was one year ago today that he realized the value of partnership – true partnership – and one year ago today that he fully accepted the fact that in the entire world, there is only one person whom he will ever consider to be his partner.

Her name is Alex Eames – and tonight, she needs him.

He takes one last swig of beer, makes an excuse to Lewis (who, schoolboy crush firmly in place despite the number of times she's turned him down, sends a greeting of "Hi, beautiful" to Alex), and grabs his jacket from the barstool beside him. On his way out the door, he notices the brunette eyeing him with something akin to disappointment but he can only offer a small smile of apology as he passes by. Right now another woman has consumed his thoughts and he quickly hails a cab, giving the driver her address and, settling his lanky frame into the cramped seat, he begins to think.

The dictionary defines the word "deliver" as many things, including: "to bring or transport to the proper place or recipient, to surrender (someone or something) to another, hand over; to give birth to; to set free, as from misery, peril." Therefore Bobby (who loves duplicitous words – even more so when they're multiplicitous) has labeled today as "Delivery Day." It isn't marked on his calendar, but it is forever etched in his mind.

Alex had a baby one year ago today – her sister's baby that she had carried for nine months as a surrogate mother. Alex had a baby and gave it away all in the same day and when Bobby went to see her in the hospital that evening, she had never looked so small in all the time he'd known her. A petite woman already – especially next to his bulky six-foot four-inches – she always seemed much larger to him, though not due to her physical stature, but rather her personality. Alex could fill up a room if she wanted to and he usually found that (for him anyway) she did. He'd never felt truly smart until she'd approved one of his off-the-wall theories and now it seemed to him that none of his ideas were good unless she said they were. The case he'd just completed had dealt with a very similar relationship and he'd recognized a lot of himself in the man he'd just sent to jail for murder. The desperate yearning for the approval of the one person who seemed to make everything in the world make sense could drive a person to kill and Bobby had understood that feeling, enough so that he had never before been so eager to see his own partner.

But when he'd entered her room that night, he saw a different woman before him. Alex couldn't fill the bed that engulfed her, much less the stark white hospital room she sat in, and the vision of her looking so tiny had quelled any hope he'd had of commiserating with her on the case, of sharing his insights in order to see her nod of total understanding.

This Alex was someone Bobby had never seen before.

That night – Delivery Night – she'd greeted him with a soft, "Hey, Bobby" and tired half-smile that seemed more put on than genuine. Her face was wan and she seemed completely enveloped in the wealth of cards, balloons, and flowers from well wishers and friends that surrounded her. There was a huge bouquet of daisies from the Deakinses, a wild-looking floral arrangement from the Carvers, and even a neat basket of orange and yellow flowers from the Chief of Detectives. Yet in the middle of the cacophony of color and brightness sat Alex, silent and pale.

In utter contrast, her family members greeted Bobby with booming hellos and firm handshakes, rising from the seats they occupied around her room to step over and welcome him inside.

Her father beamed and held their handshake longer than was necessary. "Come to see our Ally, have you? She's a real class act, I tell you, Bobby. A real class act."

Her mother, instead of saying hello, chided him in her usual fashion, saying, "Robert, have you been getting enough sleep?"

She always called him Robert, never Bobby, saying that Bobby was a nickname for a little boy and it was undignified for a grown man. Bobby always let her do it without protest, despite the fact that he hated the formality of it, because it was something that his own mother tended to do on her good days and the maternal way Mrs. Eames spoke his name was comforting and warm. (He also allowed it because it never failed to elicit an amused roll of the eyes from Alex, a reaction that was always worth a little discomfort on his part.)

Also excited, Alex's sister – petite like Alex but with none of the fire that made his partner so formidable - had immediately encouraged him to come and see the new baby in the hospital nursery: "We're all on the way there right now to take some more pictures. Want to come along?"

He'd mumbled something about going down later and Alex's father had immediately sprung to his rescue, saying, "Come on, everyone. Let's let Ally and Bobby catch up for a minute, okay?"

He'd ushered everyone out, leaving the room suddenly stark and silent, and Bobby had awkwardly taken a seat by his partner's bedside, trying not to look as though he wasn't scrutinizing the features of her face and her expression in order to gauge her state of mind. It was a habit he'd developed on the job and had become a reflex, but in this case he was making a conscious effort because he was worried about her. True to his nature, he'd made a thorough study of statistics and psychological studies concerning surrogacy as soon as he'd learned of her plan and he knew about the emotional upheaval it usually caused for the women who carried the babies. It seemed completely unfair that, the very moment the baby became a real living and breathing entity, it was handed over to its "true" mother, the one who would enjoy all of the ups and downs associated with parenting. The surrogate mother – the vessel, as it were – received a generous thank you and a pat on the back as she was sent on her way.

Further, in Alex's case, it would be worse, he knew – this baby was a part of her family and Alex would have to witness and participate in the molding of a young life. Every Christmas, every birthday, graduation – she would have to buy a present, make an appearance, and pretend that she was merely the doting aunt, that she hadn't given up nine months of her life to allow that very child to exist in the first place. Bobby couldn't even begin to imagine how that knowledge was effecting his partner – and the unknown was always a frightening idea, especially for a man who liked to have all of the answers available at his fingertips.

That night, he had no answers, only a lot of questions.

Alex hadn't met his eyes since her soft greeting and he sensed that she was feeling awkward too. They hadn't seen each other since she'd gone on leave and their rapport seemed out of sync.

Of course, it didn't help that the very topic that was at the forefront of both of their minds was the one neither really wanted to discuss.

"You feeling okay?" he'd finally asked. It was a natural question in such a situation so he figured it was a safe one.

Her eyes swung to meet his. "Exhausted, but other than that, yeah. I'm okay."

"The delivery went okay?" he'd asked, hollow and trying not to sound as though he was pushing her for more information than she wanted to give.

"As well as can be expected when you push something the size of a Buick through an opening the size of a pinhole," she'd replied sarcastically, never failing to seize an opportunity to make him uncomfortable. Bobby knew that his partner loved nothing more than when she was able to pull the rug out from under him, if only for a split second. It kept their partnership in balance and on that particular night it gave him a small measure of comfort despite his embarrassment. The Alex he knew was still there inside the shell of a woman before him and that knowledge helped.

Feeling his face flush, it had taken him a moment to recover and in that time he'd observed a ghost of a smile flee across her features. Whatever she was feeling now that she'd turned the baby's care over to her sister, she obviously didn't want it to become a part of their relationship. It was a private feeling she was choosing to keep to herself.

"They letting you go home tomorrow?" he'd finally asked when he recovered his poise.

"Mm-hmm," she'd nodded, then seemed to catch herself in a thought because she'd immediately taken charge of the conversation, steering it to their characteristic conversational topic: work. "Hey, weren't you and Bishop in the middle of a case the last time I checked?"

"Yeah," he'd replied, feeling as though she'd verbally put her hand on his chest and gently pushed him away from her. Having done the very same thing to her in the past when cases had hit too close to home for him, Bobby now knew what it felt like to stand on the other side and he couldn't help but wince from the sting of it.

"And Deakins just let you come down here?" she'd quirked an eyebrow at him. The old Alex was slowly taking shape before his eyes.

He shook his head. "No, we made the arrest this afternoon. Bishop's working on the paperwork right now."

"Let me guess, you pulled the old 'my partner just had a baby so can you wrap this up for me?' routine on her," Alex had put in wryly. Her voice had returned to normal but still held some distance between them.

"Hey she said she'd do it," he'd mock argued, floundering in his attempt to make sense of all of the feelings floating around inside of him. Was he glad to be off the hook emotionally or upset that she didn't seem to trust him enough to let him in? He couldn't decide.

In the meantime, he gave a pause for effect, then added, "I just didn't put up a fight when she volunteered."

She'd smiled then, another tired smile that didn't reach her eyes but in that smile Bobby had realized something that eased his confusion: not only was she keeping her true feelings concerning the baby from Bobby and from her family, but she was also keeping them from herself. Stubborn to the tips of her toes, she was determined to distance herself in the hopes that once she was far enough away from them they wouldn't hurt as much, that she could forget that she had given up a piece of herself in order to give a child to her sister.

It was enough to drop the strongest of people to their knees.

That night – Delivery Night – his partner had given Bobby the easy way out and he'd taken it. She'd pushed him away from any feelings she might have about giving her sister a child and he'd been more than willing to back away. Tonight he doesn't think he'll be that lucky, though, but what's more, he doesn't think he wants to take the easy way if she offers it. After all, a partnership is fifty-fifty and she's always come through for him. Mr. Fix-It he is not, but he's going to try his best and pray that all of the pieces come together in the end. He owes her that much.