The characters of Robert Goren, Alex Eames, and James Deakins do not belong to me.

The Informant Chapter 4

Ramon Trillo was dead.

The boom of the gun, and the impact throwing the guard against the bars on his bed shocked Bobby into wakefulness. Pure adrenaline shot him up onto his good elbow; there was blood on the bed, on the wall, and on Bobby.

Alex made her way to the guard, making sure that he wouldn't still attack them, wanting no last-minute mistakes. But Ramon Trillo was dead as dead could be.

"Are you okay?" She asked Bobby, seeing the blood on him and the look on his face.

"I…I think so," Bobby answered, grimacing in pain. "This (blood and matter) …is…all him, right?"

"I think so". Alex helped him to a sitting position, making sure, in fact, that it was all Trillo.

A few of the night staff who weren't currently involved with other patients looked on curiously as Trillo's body was removed. There was a general air of excitement; this kind of thing happening here was rare. A search of the hospital, concentrating mainly on Bobby's floor, quickly turned up the body of the real guard in the housekeeping room. The guard had been stripped to his underwear, and there was a bullet in his head.

Bobby and Alex were both pretty much shell-shocked, especially Bobby. This was the second attempt on his life in three days, this time by a completely different person, which led to the question: how many more attempts would there be?

"It had to be him," Bobby said, meaning Trillo. Bobby was now completely awake; after this experience he'd be awake for quite a while now. "He had to be the one who initiated it (the hit). He's the one I was going to have a little talk with, see if I could rattle him a little. Somehow he got wind of it."

"Looks like he got rattled, all right," Alex commented.

"Probably got wind of it from Jackson," Deakins offered. He had joined them in Bobby's new room after the shooting and subsequent police investigation.

"Maybe," Bobby said. "Maybe…" Bobby seemed a little down. A regular person would have been a lot down after barely surviving two attempts on their life. But Bobby had always kept his emotions in check when it came to himself. He didn't let a lot of people in, and he fully intended that he would bother neither Alex nor Deakins with his problems. They had already gone way out of their way for him.

Alex and Deakins exchanged a glance. They knew that this sort of thing could throw a person into a real tailspin; they'd have to remind the staff to keep an eye on him.

A regular police investigation into the events ensued. Internal Affairs also

investigated and found no wrongdoing on Alex's part. It was a "good shoot". That was important to Alex; she did come from a cop family. But had it gone the other way, had she "officially" been in the wrong, she would not have cared. The important thing was that Bobby, her partner, was still alive. And that was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, Bobby's physical recovery was coming along, but was extremely frustrating. He was now able to get up and down, but required a lot of help. It was still very painful, and he still had only the use of his right arm. This was probably the most frustrating thing of all. If he could use both arms, he'd be able to get up by himself, albeit painfully. But at least he wouldn't have to ask for help. And the fact that the injured arm was his left just added insult to injury, literally. Bobby was actually looking forward to the surgery. He just wanted things back to normal.

Bobby's mental condition, however, was not as good. He always figured that at some point in time getting shot was part of the game. Especially when you're in law enforcement in a city as large as New York. But he hadn't figured on being the outright victim of a hit. But for the grace of God (and some excellent surgeons) he'd be dead. And that made him very angry. And the fact that this hit was personal (unlike a shoot out or an accident) unfortunately brought up unresolved issues from his past. All the times when as a small boy he'd been a victim. As the child of a schizophrenic mother and an alcoholic father, he'd been the object of their violent outbursts. He'd been the object of the other children's taunts and ridicule. Ostracized and alone, he'd had no one to talk to, no one to turn to, and no one to help him. He'd learned to get by on his own, to need no one but himself. Ever. And he was lonely, very lonely. To this day, Bobby trusted no one with his feelings. He wanted, needed, to talk to someone, but he couldn't. Not even to Alex. And this made him even sadder.

"Bobby?" Alex came into the room to find Bobby standing by the window, where a nurse had left him. Bobby continued to stare out the window.

"Are you alright?" Alex asked, concerned. "Do you need some help?"

"No," Bobby said evenly. 'Help' was the last thing he wanted. Finally he turned to look at her. "I think…I just want to be alone."

"I don't think being alone is what you need. You think too much, Bobby. You need to give yourself a break—"

Bobby stared at Alex, and for a moment felt the urge to cry. He wanted to talk to her so badly, to tell her, to tell anyone, just how bad he was hurting, physically and mentally. To make it all go away. But it wouldn't come out. And it never would. So instead he repeated, "I just need to be alone." His tone of voice left no doubt that that was the way it would be.

Alex just nodded. "Okay, Bobby. See you tomorrow?"

Bobby didn't answer. He just stared out the window again.

After Alex left, Bobby was furious with himself. He'd done it again, turned away someone who wanted to help him. Why do I do this! Why can't I talk to anyone! Bobby angrily punched the wall, hurting the one hand that was working. This made him even angrier.

The only bright spot on the horizon that Bobby could see was that he was now declared strong enough for surgery. That was good news. Once that was over he'd be well on his way to recovery. Then he'd go after that son-of-a-bitch Nicky Jackson himself. Maybe that would help his mood a little.

TBC