Everything means nothing to me, everything means nothing to me, everything means nothing to me.

(Everything Means Nothing to Me – Elliott Smith)

"I talked to Deakins again today." Alex leaned back on Bobby's sofa. She didn't have the time to visit him every day, but she did her best to come as much as she could.

"You did?" Bobby was seated on a chair across from her. Alex looked at him carefully. He looked worn out, weary. At first, she'd been glad to see the frenzy start to fade. His gaze had dimmed; the wild look had disappeared, and the strange glimmer in his eyes had gone. He had stopped calling her and leaving incoherent messages about the most random topics; he had stopped wandering about the city at all hours of the night; he had stopped the compulsive shopping that had made Alex want to simply take away his credit card. As the days passed, though, she'd begun to become concerned again. He hadn't just become calmer; he'd stopped caring. In the first few weeks he'd been home, her greatest worry had been that he'd get himself into trouble somehow. Despite a few close calls, however, it had been fine. Corinne was keeping an eye on him, she knew; between her phone calls, Alex's visits, and Bobby's ability to pull himself back just at the last minute it had worked out.

Lately, her biggest worry was that he never even left his apartment. At least his excitement had seemed like an extension of his usual intensity. Sure, it had been unnatural; at times she'd found it almost terrifying. But she'd only seen the apathy a few times before, and it had never been as bad as this. Alex sighed, bringing herself back to the matter at hand. Perhaps if she could convince him that he was missed at work he'd perk up a bit.

"Yep," she replied. "And he wanted me to tell you that he's looking forward to your return." A few days ago they'd decided that Bobby could go back to work whenever he felt ready to. Alex had expected him to jump at the chance. But, for some reason, he hadn't…

"If – if he's really that sure that he still wants me around, why didn't he take the time to talk to me himself?" Bobby rubbed his eyes, yawning. Even the prospect of returning no longer seemed appealing. Deakins would never take him seriously again. And for all her talk of her respect for him, Alex probably wouldn't trust him either after having heard him insist that various people were tapping his phone lines and tracking his movements – not to mention the bits where he'd come to completely convoluted and utterly nonsensical conclusions about their cases. He sighed. Could he even trust himself, after all that? Should he even trust himself? "I don't – I don't know, Alex. I don't know that this is even such a good idea anymore."

"You don't know that this is such a good idea anymore? What do you mean by that?"

"I just – I mean that I'm not – not sure – I don't know." Bobby shook his head. "Forget it."

"Well, if you need some more time off, that's perfectly understandable. We'll wait. We miss you, though," Alex continued. She could barely believe it. For as long as she'd known Bobby, his work had meant the world to him. And now? Now all he wanted to do was sit around his apartment watching television or staring out the window. Alex sighed. It had been far more obvious, before, that something was wrong; this change was more subtle and, in a strange way, more frustrating. Sure, Alex had done her research. She knew. He'd been manic for a while; now he was getting increasingly depressed. It was only natural. That was the way it worked. Still, she couldn't help wondering why he just didn't stop it already. Before, he'd been uncontrollable; now, it just seemed like he was sulking.

"Oh." Bobby glanced at Alex for a second and then stared back down at the floor. There was no point in him returning; he had no credibility anymore. Worse still, there was no way he could be of any help. He couldn't concentrate; he was constantly exhausted; all he could think about was how inadequate he was, how stupid, how worthless for having allowed this to happen, for not being strong enough to just go on. Going to the grocery store was a struggle. Investigating a case would be impossible. "Maybe – maybe I should just take another week off. I'm kind of tired."

"So you're human after all." Alex attempted a smile, watching as Bobby got to his feet and walked over to his stereo. He'd been playing a slow, melancholy piano piece on repeat for hours now. "Looking for a change of music? Maybe some ABBA would cheer you up. And I've still got that dance music mix in my car."

"I think I'll pass on that one." Bobby changed the song and then returned to his seat, almost wishing that Alex would just leave him alone. He didn't have anything to say to her, anyway. He'd just sound stupid, self-pitying – and the last thing he wanted to do was drive his only friend away by annoying her. She probably found him irksome enough as it was. He never had anything interesting to say, anymore.

"All right," Alex replied awkwardly. His voice had been flat; she hadn't even caught the slightest hint of a smile. It just didn't make sense. He was seeing a psychiatrist; she was prescribing him the appropriate medication. Why was this still happening? Shouldn't it have been fixed by now? Taking a deep breath, she went on. "So, want to go out for dinner? I haven't eaten. Have you?" He shook his head. "And don't even tell me you're not hungry. We're going out."

"We could–"

"Nope. We're going out." Alex was trying her best to keep her spirits up despite the fact that his sadness was hovering about her like a storm cloud, dragging her down as well. In truth, being around Bobby was becoming tiring. "Have you even left your apartment at all so far this week?"

"I went to the grocery store." Bobby shrugged. He didn't want to have to go out to a restaurant and sit listening to horrid music, surrounded by laughing, smiling people. At best, he'd see a strange, tragic beauty in it. He'd watch the street below for hours, peering down at the schoolchildren as they ran on home and the mothers with strollers and the young professionals pulling their shiny cars into the garage. Every sight seemed so painfully real he could barely stand it. For some reason, he'd always loved the sound of sirens. As the ambulances and police cars passed he'd latch onto them, listening. But what had once been an interesting demonstration of the Doppler Shift had become a slow, desolate wail.

Even that was better than the alternative, though; at least when he was feeling desperate, he was feeling something. Most of the time he felt surrounded by a numbness so complete that he wondered why he even bothered to get out of bed. For weeks the world had been so colorful he'd felt blinded by it. Brilliance had burst forth from every corner; energy, excitement and euphoria had flared through him like exploding fireworks. Sure, he'd wanted it to stop sometimes; sure, he'd hated the anger and panic and paranoia. Now, he'd ask for it back in a second, just to make the all-encompassing grayness go away.

"Bobby?" Alex was standing in front of him, coat in hand. "Come on. I really think it might do you good to go out. Right?" He shrugged.

"I'm fine, Alex. Just – I'm just tired." It was true, too. Though he wished he could sleep all day, the only thing that really let him rest was the medication. Other than that, Bobby didn't even know why he bothered to take it. It didn't seem to be doing him any good. Corinne said it would take a while, but how long would he have to wait? And how did she know for sure that it wasn't that he was just too weak, too useless? He wasn't manic-depressive; he was inherently flawed in a far more fundamental way, and it was his fault. It was…

"Let's go." Alex tugged at his sweatshirt, urging him to his feet. "I know a good place a half hour from here. And don't tell me you don't like driving. Bring your music, if you want; we can listen to it in the car. You up for it?"

"Okay." Why did she even bother? It wouldn't work. It wouldn't help. And he didn't even deserve it. He deserved to be deserted. He wasn't worth it.

"Good." Alex grinned. Bobby stepped over to the closet and pulled out his coat before heading for door, which he held open for his partner. "Thank you." Alex waited for him to catch up; then they went down the stairs together. Alex sighed. She couldn't help but notice how loosely her partner's clothes fit. Before, he'd told her that he was always too nervous to eat. He just wasn't hungry. His ability to keep going at such a high energy level without food or sleep had at once frightened and fascinated her. As far as she knew, he hadn't really been eating much lately, either. He was going to end up making himself sick. "This way, Bobby." He followed her to the car.

"Alex?"

"What?" Alex paused, turning towards him.

"You – you shouldn't do this."

"You don't want to go?" Alex pulled up the brake again, keeping the car on so that they'd stay warm.

"No, I don't mean – I mean in general. I just – I want to apologize to you. You're doing all of this and it's just – it's not right. You have better things to do and this isn't worth it. It's not." Alex fiddled with the keys, trying to hide the way his words hurt her. He was pushing her away. He wasn't doing it out of anger, but he was still pushing her away and she couldn't understand why. It had been like this the last few times she'd come. He'd tell her it wasn't necessary; he'd apologize again and again. Alex frowned.

"Do you want me to leave?" It had been a long day. She was tired. If he wanted her to go, she'd rather that he just got straight to the point.

"No, that's not – I – I don't want you to go."

"Then why do you keep trying to push me away?" Alex took a deep breath. "You keep telling me that I don't have to do this. I know that I don't have to do this. I want to do this. But if you don't want me to visit you, I won't."

"I don't want to push you away. It isn't you, Alex." Bobby spoke softly, his gaze peering out the window into the street. "I just – I feel – I want to apologize to you. I don't deserve what you – what you're doing for me. I don't deserve this. I want to make it up to you, but I don't know how. I want to apologize for everything. I want – I want to apologize for the fact that I'm even here. I – I feel guilty." Alex looked down at the steering wheel. His voice shook with sadness, and for a minute she felt utterly and completely helpless before the shadow that surrounded him. What could she do? No matter what she said, he'd twist her words and use them to berate himself. How was it that he couldn't see how wrong he was?

"You know that none of that is true." His self-deprecation annoyed her sometimes, but right now it worried her more than anything else. "Right, Bobby? You know it's not true. You don't have to apologize for anything. None of this has been your fault. This isn't trouble for me. I enjoy seeing you." Bobby sighed. She was lying. How could she possibly enjoy seeing him? He couldn't even stand himself anymore. How could anybody else tolerate it? "And you don't have to make it up to me, okay? I just want you to get better."

"You say that like I'm just sick or something."

"You are!" Alex placed a hand on his shoulder; he turned towards her. "I can't believe this, Bobby. You have told me this so many times. Why can't you apply it to yourself? I know that you're smarter than this. I know that you understand what this means. It's not you."

"What if it is?"

"What do you mean, what if it is?"

"What if I'm just – what if it is me? What if I'm just not trying hard enough? What if I just – I just became lazy, stupid, weak?" Alex sighed.

"So you don't believe Corinne?"

"She might have made a mistake." Alex turned back towards the window. Why was he denying it, now? Was he just doing it to blame himself and feel even worse? What in the world for? Or did he sincerely and truly believe that he was to blame and couldn't see it otherwise?

"She didn't." Alex kept her voice firm, authoritative. "And I'm no expert on this stuff, but I can assure you that it's not you, okay? You're the authority on psychology here. Do I really need to tell you that you're depressed? This isn't you."

"How can you be sure?" His voice sounded so small, suddenly.

"I can't. Nobody can ever really be sure." Alex cringed. It wasn't as if platitudes were going to do much good. "You just need to trust me on this one." She took a deep breath. "Come on, Bobby. Stop beating yourself up over this! You've got enough to deal with as it is without blaming yourself for something that's beyond your control. You know it." She frowned for a second. "The only thing I can't understand is why that stuff Corinne's giving you isn't helping. You shouldn't have to feel like this. I mean – shouldn't you tell her that whatever it is she's giving you isn't doing anything? It doesn't seem like it's working for you. Maybe something else will. Right?" She paused. "I hope I'm not being too intrusive about this, or anything." Bobby shrugged.

"Doesn't matter." He sighed. "It'll – it'll be all right. It takes a while. This is also the inevitable consequence of what came before. The idea is that if you prevent that, this won't happen either."

"Oh." Alex paused, looking towards her partner. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"You don't have to be sorry. You didn't do anything."

"I know that. But you're my partner, and my friend, and this is a lousy thing that's happened to you. I wish I could make it go away, but I can't."

"So do I." Bobby's voice was shaking again. Alex reached out towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder again. "So do I." It felt good to say it, to think of it that way and not have to hate himself for that on top of everything else. Maybe it was self-pitying of him, but that had suddenly ceased to matter. Bobby leaned forward, resting his head on the dashboard. He felt awful. That was the truth. And he wanted nothing more than for it all to go away…

"I am not mad at you," Alex whispered, almost afraid to break the silence. This was as close as she'd ever gotten to seeing her partner cry. He didn't cry, really. There were never any tears. His eyes just overflowed with feeling, all on their own. Alex cleared her throat. The restaurant was going to close. In her partnership with Bobby, she'd always been the eminently practical one; he'd dealt with profiling personalities, analyzing emotions. Alex was pragmatic. She'd be the first to admit that she didn't know how to respond, that she didn't know what to say. "Bobby, I hate to say this, but the restaurant's going to close." He looked up slowly.

"You still want to go?"

"Of course." Bobby's eyes warmed towards his partner, and Alex smiled. Perhaps practicality was just what he needed right now, after all.