1A/N: Unfortunately, I own none of the LO:CI characters. However, Dr. Vincent Rizzo and Lt. Bill Kowalski are all mine. Thanks to all who have read. Special thanks to all who take the time to review. It IS what we live for ;-) Netherfield, 08Starbaby08, Justawritier, Lina-Baggins, The X-Pig, Daiquiri and SW33tangelgrl: I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Hard to Say Good-Bye

Dr. Rizzo began his morning rounds, as usual, at 7:00 a.m. He peeked in the window to Bobby's room, only to find the bed empty. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the ten or so crumpled wads of paper scattered about the floor. He entered the room and found Bobby, still seated at the table, his head resting on folded forearms. The doctor stood watching, undecided if he should awaken Bobby. Rizzo looked at the pad of paper and pen laying next to Bobby's head. He saw the used Kleenex tissues dotting the table. He knew what Bobby had been doing – or attempting to do. It was evident he must have had a hard night.

Bobby stirred and became aware of someone's presence in the room. He raised his head, rubbing his eyes and stretching his sore, stiff back.

"That didn't look very comfortable."

"I was trying to write some notes... I heard on the news last night that the funeral is Saturday," Bobby said with a deep sigh, nostrils flaring. The sarcasm and anger in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

"You sound angry," Dr. Rizzo calmly stated.

Ignoring his comment, Bobby asked, "Has Capt. Deakins called for me?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I saw the report on the news last night, too. Heck of a way to find out...it's good that they made an arrest, though...they caught the guy," Rizzo said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Deakins should have told me – she's my partner."

Rizzo noted Bobby's use of the present, not past, tense. "I'm sure he's very busy..."

Bobby immediately cut him off, "There's no excuse."

The doctor knew a sore subject when he heard one, so he decided to shift gears. "Well, I guess you didn't get much sleep. Why don't you get into bed – get comfortable?"

Bobby looked at him and stood up from the table. "I might as well," he said, holding out his arms as if to display the mess he made on the table and floor, "I'm not getting anything done here." He sounded defeated.

Dr. Rizzo watched as Bobby walked to the bed, inwardly surprised that he got no argument to his suggestion. He was undecided if it was a good or bad thing, but ultimately decided on "good;" Bobby obviously needed the rest. Rizzo walked to the beside and pulled the blanket over Bobby as he made himself comfortable.

"Would you like something to help you sleep?" Rizzo asked.

"No, thanks," Bobby replied, his eyelids already heavy and closing from sleepiness.

"Okay, if you have trouble and change your mind, just ring the nurse."

Rizzo stood watching Bobby for a minute. He had already dozed off.

He once again surveyed the room and began picking up the wadded paper balls from the floor and placed them on the table. He was tempted to read what Bobby had written and thrown away – – He thought to himself, "What about the discarded words wasn't good enough? Maybe they'd give me a better insight to Bobby's feelings – – thoughts." Rizzo continued his contemplation: "The words would have to be perfect; Bobby would settle for nothing less, in honoring his partner."

The doctor finally decided against it. It wasn't the way he treated his patients ... "stealing" their private thoughts. It was much more challenging and satisfying to him to develop a relationship with his patients; to gain their trust, so they would voluntarily confide in him.

Rizzo left Bobby's room, closing the door softly. He stopped at the nurses' station.

"Good morning, Carla."

"Good morning, Dr. Rizzo," she smiled.

"May I have Mr. Goren's chart, please?"

She handed him the file.

"Were you on the night shift, Carla?"

"Yes, 11 to 7. I didn't quite make it out of here on time this morning though...paperwork to finish," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"I see Mr. Goren called for nurse's assistance at approximately 2:00 a.m."

"Yes. He asked for paper and pen. I umm, I asked if he was having trouble sleeping. I told him I could give him something to help, per your orders."

"He declined?"

"Yes, he seemed angry." "No..." she said, correcting herself. "That's not the right word...he was more like, impatient."

Handing back the file, Dr. Rizzo thanked her and turned towards Jennifer, the day nurse who had just come on duty.

"Jennifer, please don't let dietary disturb Mr. Goren with breakfast. We'll get him something to eat when he wakes up."

"Yes, Doctor," she smiled, as she reached for the "Do Not Disturb Patient" sign to hang on Bobby's door.

Dr. Rizzo visited the rest of his patients, finishing his rounds at almost 9:00 a.m. He returned to his office, poured a cup of coffee and sat behind his desk. Something about Bobby had been bothering him. He couldn't put his finger on it. He tried to imagine how many things Bobby must want to say about his partner. "Maybe that's the problem," Rizzo thought to himself. He had experienced the feeling himself from time to time: so much to say that you don't where to start. He sat looking at his own desk – then the idea hit him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was almost Noon when Bobby awoke. He felt disoriented at first, then remembered he had only gone to bed at around 7:30 a.m. He wondered how long he had been asleep. He stretched and rubbed the tiredness from his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He looked at the table...the floor. The floor which was before dotted with his discarded paper balls was now clean. He looked back at the table – a reminder of his failed writing attempt – it immediately frustrated him.

He was hungry. He stood and walked to the table, remembering there was one Yodel left over from the night before. It was then that he noticed the package. Curiosity furrowed his brow, as he sat at the table and opened it, discovering a supply of expensive, heavy gauge stationery, a box containing a new Mont Blanc pen, and his wallet.

Bobby removed the top sheet of paper, which was neatly folded. He opened it and began reading:

"Bobby

I know this task is a difficult one for you. Such writing will undoubtedly bring you on a journey of fond memories about your loved one; some which you will want to share with your brothers in mourning and some which you will forever hold private and dear in your heart. I picked up your discarded drafts and placed them here on the table. I did not read any of them, although I will confess to being tempted to do so. I hope you will find these writing utensils more befitting to the task at hand. My grandfather always said that having the proper tools made any job easier. I think he was right. Maybe part of your writer's block was due to the 99¢ CVS notebook and the Bic pen that my nurse provided. (Please excuse my lame attempt at humor). I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope you find the quality of these items more appropriate for recording your important words in honor of your fallen partner. Also, please excuse me for looking in your wallet, but I found what I suspected would be there. I recognized her face from the photos in the newspapers and on TV. I thought it might help to see her. Alexandra Eames was a beautiful woman. I'll stop in this afternoon to see how you're feeling. If you feel the need to talk before then, just have the nurse page me. Sincerely, Vince."

Tears had welled up in Bobby's eyes as he read the letter. Rizzo did understand.

Bobby opened his wallet and gazed down at the picture. He had been so happy that night. He in his tux and Alex...beside him, her left arm around his waist; her right hand gently pressed against his chest, over his heart...smiling up at him. She looked so beautiful that night in her blue dress. He kissed the photo, closing his eyes, causing the accumulation of tears to roll down his cheeks.

Bobby grabbed for more tissues, blew his nose and wiped his eyes. He rang for the nurse, who appeared in less than a minute.

"Mr. Goren, I'm your nurse for today, Jennifer," she smiled.

Bobby looked at the pretty girl... 'young woman' he corrected himself. She wasn't more than 24, he guessed. "I, umm, I'd like to see Dr. Rizzo."

"I'll page him right away."

"Thank you."

The young nurse was half way out the door, but peeked back in. "Mr. Goren, are you hungry?"

"Yes,"he said, nodding affirmatively.

"I'll have the kitchen bring you something. Would you like breakfast or lunch-type food?"

"Um, br-breakfast, please."

"Okay," she smiled. "It'll be just a short wait."

Bobby grabbed the Yodel from the table and sat at the foot of the bed. Dr. Rizzo looked through the window and saw Bobby – he watched as he peeled the chocolate away from the cake – the same way all kids did when he was growing up. It brought a smile to the doctor's face as Bobby continued, unrolling the cake to reveal the white cream filling. Every glimpse that Rizzo got of Bobby's childlike behavior endeared him even more to the doctor. Rizzo wondered if Bobby would have eaten it differently had he been in the room. He decided "probably not." Not wanting to embarrass him, he waited until Bobby was done before entering the room.

Bobby glanced at Rizzo, then at the table where the gift had been left. The doctor sat on the end of the bed, next to Bobby.

Bobby was looking down at the floor. "I don't know what to say, just... thank you."

"You're welcome, Bobby."

They sat still, quiet for a moment, until Rizzo spoke softly. "I saw how you were struggling to get the right words down."

Bobby nodded in agreement, but remained silent.

"I did a little thinking about you and...what my grandfather always used to say came back to me."

Bobby tilted his head towards the doctor, waiting for him to continue, so Rizzo did.

"I was thinking about you...when you were admitted you, umm, you didn't have any jewelry, not even a watch but, umm, you were still...well, for lack of a better word, 'adorned' with things – expensive things..."

Bobby wasn't quite sure where he was going with this, so decided to remain quiet and hear him out.

"...designer suit, shirt and tie...the shoes...your leather portfolio..." Rizzo pointed at the table, "that Coach wallet...but you don't do it...surround yourself with these things because of vanity...I think you just appreciate quality, fine workmanship."

Bobby still remained quiet, listening to the doctor's evaluation of him.

"...It's how you 'treat' yourself...your own rewards for all your hard work...and I know that honoring your partner is of paramount importance to you. I just thought the right tools for the job would help you."

Bobby didn't know what to say– he wondered "how has this doctor learned so much about me in 2 days?" So, he merely said "Thanks."

Dr. Rizzo patted his back and smiled, "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help a little."

Bobby looked up at him. "I know I've asked you this before...if you treat all your patients like this...why would you go to such lengths for me?"

The doctor looked at him, shaking his head. He let out a small sigh, "I see...qualities in you, Bobby...a childlike honesty...innocence...even after all you've been through in your life, all the horrible things you must see in your line of work...I don't know...maybe I imagine you're like the way my kid brother would have been." Rizzo sighed again, deeper and longer, this time.

Bobby looked at him, question in his eyes, "You told me you had a younger sister."

Rizzo sat back down on the bed. "I had a baby brother." He chuckled, "He had a head full of curly brown hair, big brown eyes. He was four when my mother..." his voice trailed off.

Bobby looked at him. He could fill in the blanks. He knew what had happened. "I'm so sorry."

Rizzo nodded, "Thank you."

"That's why you had to become a doctor...a psychiatrist?"

Rizzo wanted to leave the subject. This wasn't supposed to be about him.

"Can I tell you something, Bobby?"

Bobby nodded, thinking the doctor was going to disclose something about himself.

"I'm not the only one who feels that way about you."

Bobby looked at him, question knitting his eyebrows together.

Rizzo continued, "Your Captain."

Bobby rolled his eyes, expelling air through his nose – gestures that seemed to say "yeah, right."

Rizzo continued, "He cares about you, Bobby. You didn't see him the night you were admitted– the worry on his face – I did. Rizzo saw the sarcastic attitude fade from Bobby's face. "When I brought them to your room – Captain Deakins and Mr. Carver – the Captain was very...tender with you. It was one of the very first observations I noted in your file."

Bobby sat, silent, thinking abut the doctor's words.

"I'm just asking you to go easy on him, Bobby. I know you were angry about being left out of the loop last night but...give him a break, okay? He's suffering the loss, too."

Bobby nodded and Rizzo once again stood to leave the room. He saw the teary look in Bobby's eyes and knew his words had hit home.

"Your food should be here soon. Maybe after you eat, you can take a shower and put on some of the clothes your friend brought you last night. Maybe you'll feel up to giving your writing another try."

Bobby nodded, "Thanks, I will."

A knock came to the door. Dr. Rizzo opened it and moved aside, letting the worker enter and place the tray on the table. After the worker left, Rizzo turned back to Bobby, pointing, "Hey, Bobby, you owe me one."

Bobby thought to himself, "I knew he was gonna' think I owed him for letting me use the phone...special privilege my ass."

"Why's that?" Bobby asked.

Rizzo smiled, "The orderlies were gonna' cut those Armani suit pantsoff ya' the night you were admitted," he chuckled, as he left and closed the door.

Bobby laughed at himself, "Wrong again about Rizzo...some 'profiler' I am."

He ate, showered and dressed. He felt better. He reminded himself that Lewis was coming back with dinner again tonight – that, too, helped his mood.

He sat at the table, looking at Alex in the photograph. He pushed the mess on the table off to the side and cleared his writing space.

He put pen to paper and somehow, this time, the words came easily.

End. Chpt. 10