1Chapter Two
"...And they worked happily ever after."
Major Case Squad
February 6th, 2004
The discovery had startled Alex. She hadn't been intentionally snooping – she just needed to check on some facts that Bobby had jotted down the day before on his notepad. Reaching across her desk, trying to lift his bulky leather portfolio with one hand, it slipped from her grasp, spilling loose sheets of paper that fluttered to the floor.
"Great," she moaned. "Haste makes waste. I should've just gotten up and done it the right way from the beginning," she scolded herself. She rounded their joined desks and picked up the papers.
She stood at Bobby's desk, tucking the loose sheets back in the inner pocket on the left side. That's when she saw it. A piece of notepaper – "From the Desk Of...Captain James Deakins..." it said across the top.
"Hmmm, I wonder what the Captain wrote to Bobby?" she asked herself. Now she was snooping.
She wrestled with her conscience for a moment, but her Detective's curiosity overtook her. She pulled the sheet out, revealing the rest of the page. It was yellowed with age. In the Captain's handwriting, it merely said "Detective Alexandra Eames." Below that, in Bobby's writing, it said "Start Date: 2/8/01."
"That was my first day on the job here," Alex thought to herself. But what appeared below is what broke her heart for her partner. Lines. Four straight little lines in a cluster, with a fifth line diagonally through them. He was counting – like a prisoner would count off the days of his sentence by etching lines on the wall of his cell; or like kids are taught to count off bundles of "five."
"The five days of the work week," she muttered to herself. "He's been keeping track of how many days I've stayed."
She quickly put the paper back where she had found it and returned to her seat. It was almost 8:00 a.m. – Bobby would be arriving any second.
That night, while lying in bed, she couldn't shake the image of that paper. She remembered the rumors she had heard about all the partners before her who had come and gone. All she could think of was how insecure Bobby must still feel – even though their partnership had endured three years, he was still unsure. She tried to think of something to say to him or something to give him to put his mind at ease – to reassure him that she was there to stay. She finally fell into a fitful sleep.
February 7, 2004
Bobby had spent the morning with Mr. Carver, preparing his testimony for an upcoming trial and, when he hadn't returned to the office by noon, Alex decided that, rather than eating alone at her desk, she would do some errands during lunch hour. While picking up some items at the nearby pharmacy, she passed by the greeting card aisle and the thought occurred to her, "Well, tomorrow kinda' is our 'anniversary'— maybe I can find a nice card or something."
February 8, 2004
"Good morning," Bobby smiled, as he reached his desk.
"Good morning," Alex smiled back, watching as Bobby placed her coffee and danish before her. "Thanks – smells great!"
He had walked over to the coat rack to hang his coat and scarf. "I see the wind got a hold of your hair, too," he teased her, laughing with that chuckle she loved to hear.
"I meant to run to the ladies' room before, but I got busy on some calls. I must look terrible," she said, grabbing her purse and heading for the bathroom, still hearing Bobby's chuckle behind her.
As Bobby got settled at his desk, he saw a small blue envelope. "Bobby." He recognized the writing as Alex's. He looked around – as if he had to be cautious – so no one would see him open it.
He removed the card from the envelope. It was cute little picture – the back view of a big teddy bear and a much smaller one, sitting side by side on a log, with arms around each other. The caption surrounding the picture said, "No matter how un-bear-able things may get, I'll always be here for you."
He smiled at the sentiment and opened the card to read her message. It said:
"Detective Alexandra Eames. Start date: 2/8/01."
He felt embarrassed for a fleeting moment; he knew she had somehow seen the memo in his portfolio, but his embarrassment was quickly dispelled by the happiness and relief that her message had given him. He smiled and felt himself relax, actually exhaling a deep sigh of relief. It occurred to him at that very second that he had been "holding his breath," –figuratively, at least, for the past three years– waiting for the inevitable to happen, as it had the six times before her.
But today, for the first time, he felt secure.
Underneath her name and start date, she had merely written her own symbol – one which she knew Bobby would understand — a horizontal, elongated "figure eight." It was the symbol for "infinity."
THE END