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Finding My Son, Finding Myself

Chapter Three

Morris immediately dialed from his phone as he walked towards the park.

"Major Case Squad, Detective Eames."

"Eames, it's Morris. Bobby just called me. I'm going to meet him and talk."

"I'm coming, too," she asserted. "Where is he?"

"Eames, I don't think that's a good idea just yet. Let me go see him – make sure he's all right, and I'll make sure he calls you."

"Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on, Morris?" she asked, not attempting to hide the annoyance in her voice.

"I'll have him call you, Alex. That's really all I can say. I, umm, I gotta' go."

Alex hung up the receiver, now more annoyed than worried. It angered her more that Morris knew what was eating at Bobby and she didn't — his own partner. She sat, pensively, tapping her pen on her blotter, too distracted by whatever was going on with Bobby to worry about the workload of files mounting on her desk. "What the hell was in that envelope?" she sighed, sinking back into her chair.

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Morris reached the wrought iron archway at the entrance to the park and looked down the path, spotting Bobby sitting on a bench about 100 feet away. He was prepared to get chewed out — and maybe he deserved it. As he approached the bench, he watched as Bobby quickly wiped his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Bobby said nothing as Morris sat down next to him. Morris didn't know what to say or do, so he simply asked, "You okay?"

"No, I don't think I am." He let out a heavy sigh. "You knew on Friday. Why didn't you tell me?"

Morris sat forward on the bench, wringing his hands, avoiding Bobby's eyes. "I thought I was doing the right thing, Bobby. When I talked to Eames Friday night, she told me that you were on your way into the bank – that sure wasn't the right time to lay something like this on ya' and, well...afterwards...oh geez, I know it sounds stupid, but...I didn't want to ruin your night."

Bobby shot him a sideways glare, which Morris ignored. He continued speaking. "I just figured that after all you went through Friday you deserved to be happy at the celebration afterwards. I saw you at Carucci's with Eames and Sanchez and I – I wanted you to have a good weekend." Morris sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "I gotta' tell ya', Bobby, I lost plenty of sleep over this whole thing over the weekend. I almost changed my mind on Saturday – I was gonna' go to the office and take the damn envelope back outta' your desk so you'd have never known, but, I– I couldn't do it – I thought you had a right to know. I dunno' – maybe I was wrong, but I thought..."

Bobby interrupted, "It's okay, Morris – I-I'm glad you didn't do that. I'm glad I know now...a couple of more days doesn't really matter, anyway."

"I know it's a big shock for you, Bobby," he said, sympathetically.

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" Bobby asked.

"Nobody. Not even my wife. And I won't," he added solemnly.

Bobby nodded, "Thanks, Dave. I appreciate it."

"It's okay. I hope everything works out for you — I mean, whatever you're gonna' do."

The two men sat beside each other, silently, for a minute, until Bobby spoke. "I can't go back to work today."

"Well, you gotta' talk to Eames, Bobby. She's worried and I, umm, I promised her I'd have you call her — to let her know you're all right."

"I don't know what I'm gonna tell her."

"Just tell her the truth," Morris advised.

Bobby shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Bobby...this is Eames we're talking about... you can talk to her...hell, she's been your partner for five years! C'mon, let me get you a cup of coffee or something across the street and we'll give Eames a call — she'll come and meet you, so you can talk."

Bobby sat, motionless, still unconvinced.

"C'mon Goren. You didn't do anything wrong — you're a victim here! How the hell could somebody keep a secret like that from a guy– that ain't right!"

Morris' irate approach wasn't working, so he decided to tone it down. "Maybe Eames can help, ya' know...talk to ya' from a woman's perspective."

Bobby grabbed the envelope beside him on the bench and reluctantly arose. Morris, in a show of support, walked alongside with his hand on Bobby's shoulder. They crossed the narrow street and entered the small diner, taking a table in the rear.

Morris held up his cell phone. "You want me to call her?"

"No," Bobby answered, grabbing his own phone from his left pocket. "I'll call her."

"You mind if I stick around 'til she gets here – keep ya' company?"

"I don't mind," Bobby said, indifferently, as he began dialing.

"I'm gonna' go to the counter and get us something. You want coffee or something cold?"

"Just some ice water — thanks." Bobby appreciated Morris' gesture at trying to afford him some privacy to make his call.

"Major Case Squad, Detective Eames."

"It– it's, me," Bobby said, softly.

"Hey you – what's goin' on?" Alex asked, forcing a calm and casual tone in her voice.

"C-can y-you c-come and m-meet me –umm, now?"

Bobby always stuttered more when he was excited or nervous. It didn't go undetected by Alex and her heart immediately went out to him, as she remembered his stories about how he had gotten teased in school. He had the uncanny ability, with merely the sound of his voice, to send her from "rage" to "maternal" in two seconds flat, and she hated him for it — and she loved him for it.

"Sure, where are you?"

"I'm with Morris at the Crossroads Grill."

"I'll be right there."

"Thanks," he barely whispered, closing his phone and putting it away.

Morris returned to the table with Bobby's water and a glass of orange juice for himself. "You get a hold of her?"

"Yeah," Bobby nodded, "She's on her way."

Morris tried, unsuccessfully, to keep Bobby distracted with idle chatter while they awaited Alex's arrival. The gaps of silence were uncomfortable and awkward. Morris was relieved when he saw the recognition in Bobby's eyes as Alex entered the diner and headed their way. He got up from the table, relinquishing his chair to Eames.

"Thanks, Morris."

The look in her eyes made Morris know that she wasn't just thanking him for the seat. He gave her a nod, "No problem. And Bobby – anything I can do, just let me know," he offered, as he turned and left, heading back to the office.

"You want some coffee or anything?" Bobby offered.

"What I want, is for you to tell what's going on," she said, sternly, "And why Morris knows more about it than I do!" Alex immediately felt bad for laying into him, as the image of his tear-streaked cheeks as he fled the office earlier flashed through her mind. She took a deep breath and relaxed.

"I'm sorry – just fill me in on what's going on and —and let me help you."

Bobby leaned back on his chair, his long arm and fingers slowing pushing the envelope across the table towards Alex.

"Ju-just read it...it'll be easier," he barely whispered.

He sat back, watching Alex as she removed the papers from the envelope and began reading– waiting for her reaction. He saw her usual expression – eyebrows knitted together as she concentrated and absorbed what she was reading. She turned the first page...then the second...and got to the third: time for the reaction. Her posture stiffened, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. She read it again– making sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. Her head raised and her eyes met Bobby's.

"Bobby, are you sure it's true?"

He held out his arm, palm up, as if gesturing, "You've seen it for yourself," and let out a heavy sigh. "I did the math."

Alex held the paper closer and read it again: "Birth Certificate...San Carlos General Hospital, San Juan, Puerto Rico...February 18, 1994...Mother's Name: Maria Elena Vasquez...Father's Name: Robert O. Goren...Child's Sex: Male; Child's Name: Roberto Carlos Vasquez..."

Bobby didn't blame her for taking the time to read and re-read. He had done so, himself, several times before it sank in. He gulped what was left of his ice water and just sat, watching as Alex turned another page and kept reading. Other than the obvious shock of it all, her face gave no indication as to what other things she was thinking or feeling.

Alex looked at Bobby for a second, then returned to the page before her, "...Time of Birth: 5:16 p.m. ...Weight: 7 Lbs. 9 Oz." She caught herself admiring out loud, "Cute little footprint." The sound of her own voice startled her. She returned her attention to Bobby and laid the papers back on the table.

"I can't even imagine what you're feeling...if it's true," Alex said.

Bobby snapped back at her, indignantly, "What do you mean, 'if it's true'? I told you I did the math – sh-sh-she named him after me and, 'Carlos,' ...that's her father's name."

Alex spoke calmly, "Look, Bobby, all I'm saying is that we have to be sure. Maybe she just liked the name and it's a coincidence!

Bobby fidgeted in his seat and leaned forwarded over the table. Alex knew her comment annoyed him but felt that she had to try to remain objective– if not skeptical. It seemed to her that Bobby was all too anxious for it to be true.

"The time line is no 'coincidence', Alex."

Alex slumped back in her chair and rolled her eyes. Bobby knew how she thought– she didn't have to say it, and Bobby answered her implied accusation without missing a beat.

"She wasn't with anyone else – she wasn't that kind of girl – w-w-we were in love," Bobby said, defending her.

Alex raised her eyebrows skeptically, but remained silent.

He banged his hand on the table, defending Maria Elena, "Don't think about her that way!" His voice softened, "Don-don't look at me that way." He paused, rubbing his hands over his face, "For Chrissakes, Eames, I remember the night he was conceived," his voice trailed off, embarrassed at the admission, wishing he hadn't said it.

And that's when Eames realized: This woman who Bobby had never before mentioned – because it hurt him too much – was the first real love of his life – the one who got away– the one who had broken his heart. "No wonder he's never been serious about anyone," she thought. "A guy get's his heart broken like that, he's not gonna' be in a rush to try again."

She looked at the pathetic figure across the table, now slumping in his seat.

"C'mon," Alex said.

"Where? Where are we going?"

"Back to my place, where we can talk in private. You're gonna' tell me everything...and I mean everything, and we're gonna' get to the bottom of this."

Bobby stood and grabbed the envelope from the table. His head had been spinning all morning, lost in the quandary of what to do. He loved it when Alex took charge.

END Chapt. Three