Spoiler Alert: "The Third Horseman," "F.P.S."

ALEX

He's outside her door. She somehow knew he would be – expected it, actually - and at the same time dreaded his arrival. In between hanging up the phone and silently berating herself for calling him in the first place, she's decided that she isn't in the mood for his probing line of questioning tonight, nor is she prepared to shield herself from those dark eyes that see so much and assess situations so quickly. On the other hand, there's something comforting about his presence, something about the way he never fails to make her feel protected, that lends itself well to her current state of mind.

Ultimately (after momentarily wondering whether or not he'd believe that she isn't home and realizing such a ruse would be futile and rude), she decides to let him in.

Yet as she pads to the door in her stocking feet, steaming mug of tea in hand, she again curses herself inwardly for picking up the phone. If she hadn't done that, she could wallow in her feelings alone tonight and maybe with a little luck push them away again. Now that he's here, she doesn't stand a chance.

His looks slightly sheepish as she opens the door, but when his eyes light on her she sees a ripple of relief run through his body. He hasn't just come to reassure her, she knows, he's come to reassure himself as well and the fact that she's answered the door and looks (apparently) not too much the worse for wear has given him hope that things will be all right.

"Hi," is all he offers in greeting. His hands are clasped behind his back and he looks down to the floor after greeting her, a display of his typical nonconfrontational behavior – an awkward stance that always stands out in stark contrast from his often hard-nosed interrogation room tactics.

"Bobby, you didn't have to come," she responds. "I'm okay – really."

"I was in the neighborhood," he shrugs and, though hollow and cliched, his words and convincing physical gestures would fool most people – most people, but not his partner. She knows he's worried and here to check up on her.

And why wouldn't he be? After all, she did call him.

Feeling contrary, she comes back with: "That's funny – usually you and Lewis go to O'Malley's. That's practically on the other side of town."

He blinks to acknowledge that he's been caught, but true to his nature is quick to defuse the situation, "We do – but Lewis wanted me to deliver a message to you."

She relents with a roll of her eyes. "Will he never learn?"

She steps back from the door and lets him enter her apartment, walking over to curl into a corner of the couch, her feet beneath her and the mug warm in her hands. She's glad he's here, she realizes. With him in the room, her apartment is no longer so achingly empty and the stillness has been shattered – yet he hasn't spoken more than a few words. He doesn't need to, though. He's Bobby Goren. Alex has yet to meet the person who possesses a louder presence than that of her partner and she knows that they can even sit in complete silence and Bobby can keep the quiet at bay simply by being. There's a certain restless quality about him that never lets her forget he's nearby – and tonight she's grateful for it.

He hangs his jacket neatly beside hers on the coat rack and gives a white grin and shake of his head as he moves into the room. "What can I say? Lewis has a weak spot for women who know cars. He's smitten."

"I can think of another term for it," she responds dryly, taking a sip of tea.

Another gleaming grin as Bobby seats himself at the other end of the couch and faces her. He stretches his long legs out to get comfortable and a bit of silence ensues before Alex thinks to ask, "Did you want some tea? I can make coffee too if you'd rather."

He shakes his head. "No thanks."

He's trying not to stare at her, not to analyze her expression for data that will clue him in to her state of mind, but he's doing a lousy job. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her skin and she looks away from him, watching the steam rise from her cup. Despite the comfortable quiet in which they sit, Alex feels her mind begin to race. She called him and he's here – now what? Is she supposed to pour her heart out to him? Is she supposed to express the feelings that have surfaced today, feelings that she can't even put into words and explain to herself, let alone another person? Is she supposed to break down and cry?

Alex Eames doesn't do those kinds of things.

Even in the hospital right after the baby was born, the first feeling that came over her was relief. She'd done it – she'd successfully made her sister a mother and she had been able to have her job and live her life in the process. Her parents, her sister, and her brother-in-law had never been happier and for a brief and shining second, neither had Alex. The baby was perfect – ten fingers, ten toes, a dusting of fuzzy hair, and the spitting image of all of the Eameses.

And then the nurse had handed that beautiful, screaming, red little bundle right over Alex's head and into the arms of her sister and Alex had felt the first hole being punched in her euphoric bubble. There were the tiny feet that had kicked her in the ribs for the last several months at all hours of the day and night. There were the miniscule hands that had occasionally made themselves visible from the inside of her protruding belly and the face that she'd seen on the 3-D ultrasound that she hadn't wanted but her sister had insisted on.

And all of those pieces now belonged to someone else. In fact, they had never belonged to Alex in the first place. Just like that long ago embryo that she'd asked the doctor to remove from her body, this life was not meant to be a permanent fixture in Alex's everyday existence. Birthdays, holidays, and family gatherings would be their only interaction in the future and, realizing this, Alex felt suddenly deflated and very alone, though she sat in the middle of the crowd of family. She sat bereft, seeking any distraction to take her mind off of this new revelation - and Bobby's image appeared in her mind so she asked if someone would call and let him know that she was okay.

He had been worried for the last few weeks, she knew – worried and also waiting eagerly for it to be all over and for her to return to work. He wasn't happy with his temporary partner, an up and coming young detective named Lynn Bishop, and he wanted Alex back – needed her back, in truth. He relied on her to keep him on track and to offer a different perspective from his own and Alex had discovered during her leave that, by the same token, she needed him too. They balanced each other, they made each other laugh, and – as an added bonus - returning to work and Bobby might just be the thing to keep her mind off the loneliness that was creeping over her.

Or so she had thought.

When he'd appeared in her doorway at the hospital, the loneliness didn't automatically dissipate the way she had expected it to – the way she'd hoped it would. His burly form didn't fill the room quite the way she'd hoped and even the desperate expression on his face that displayed his care and concern didn't do the trick. This turn of events had taken her by surprise because she had been counting on him to step in and fill all of the gaps – only it turned out that there were more gaps than there had been before the baby had come.

She'd almost lost it then – almost let the pain and emptiness take over and reduce her to the cowering, weeping mass that she so deeply wanted to become. The desire to do so was great but she realized that she couldn't do that to Bobby. She couldn't promise her forthcoming return to him only to make it a lie at the last second and yank herself away to swim in her own self-pity. Their relationship didn't work that way.

So, summoning up the decisiveness that served her so well on the job, she'd used her last ounce of strength to push all of her feelings aside and lock them away. She'd laughed at all the right times and nodded at all the right times and in the past year the act has become natural for her – until tonight.

Tonight the act is unraveling and the scariest part for Alex is that she doesn't think she cares.