A/N: I feel the end coming on for this story. Not sure how many chapters it will take, but I have the finalscene in my head just waiting to be written. So for now,let's just say Kamikaze will probably end "soonish."
About a week later . . .
Gasping for breath, Alex stared at the man in front of her. The glass she had been holding slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor, shattering explosively, and the sound frightened her even more as it reverberated through her parents' kitchen.
The man jumped back with a gasp if surprise. "Alex!"
The sound of breaking glass brought Molly Eames running to the kitchen, her motherly intuition telling her that something was wrong. "Alex? Rob? Is everything . . ." she began worriedly as she skidded to a stop on the threshold of the room. Her voice trailed off as she studied the wide eyes of her daughter; obviously everything was not 'ok.' Neither of her children responded to her words; Alex appeared to be frozen in fear, while Rob had wary eyes fixed on her as he tried to avoid doing anything she would react to.
"Robert," she said in the same quiet, tightly controlled I'm-In-Charge-Now-So-Nobody-Panic voice she'd used when he'd fallen out of a tree and broken his leg as a child, "move away from her. Slowly."
Rob, who was nearly as scared as his sister was by her violent reaction, obeyed the authoritative tone in his mother's voice and slowly took a large step back. "I didn't realize . . ."
"I know you didn't," she told him gently as she began to move toward her daughter. Keeping her eyes on Alex, she said to Rob in the same comforting tone, "Why don't you go find Bobby for me, ok honey?"
Rob nodded shortly and fled the room before he could traumatize his little sister any more than he already had. He had no idea where her partner had wandered off to since they'd arrived at the house earlier in the afternoon, but he knew Alex well enough to know that Bobby was probably the only person besides their mother that she'd accept comfort from. Therefore, he'd hunt the guy down, no matter where he was hiding.
The living room was empty except for George the wolfhound, who raised his head off the couch long enough to look at Rob curiously before returning to his blessedly child-free nap, and his brother John, who didn't wake up from his nap at all. Alex and Beth's old bedroom contained what looked like three sleeping children - it was hard to tell with the lights out - curled up in a pile on one of the beds, and he figured he was probably looking at the twins and Ashley. No Bobby, though.
The other bedrooms were empty, as was the bathroom, leaving only a few other places on the property that Bobby could be. He decided to try the garage next, knowing that, at the very least, Kate and his father were likely to be there. Maybe they could point him in the right direction.
The garage, though its door to the driveway was open, appeared empty at first glance. Then a voice from under the Mustang he was standing next to called, "You need to clean your boots, Rob. They're a mess."
"Kate, get out here."
Her head popped out from under the car as she used the wheeled board she was lying on to push herself to his side of the car. "What's up? Everything ok?"
"Do you know where Goren is?"
"Bobby? Why are you looking for him?" she asked, wondering why he'd pulled her out from under the car to ask her that.
"Never mind that," he said, shaking his head. "I just need to find him."
"Last time I saw him," John said as his head appeared next to his daughter's, "he was headed downstairs with a couple of the others. That was maybe . . . half an hour ago? Try the computer room."
"Ok, thanks." Rob darted back into the house and shut the door, leaving two very intrigued family members behind him.
He heard voices as he got to the top of the stairs that led to the finished basement, and he quickly descended them, following the voices down a short hallway and into a large-ish room that housed four computers in various states of usability. "Hey, Bobby!" he said when he finally spotted the taller man, who had Nathan balanced in one arm as he leaned over Samantha's shoulder, watching her point to something on the computer screen.
Bobby looked up, startled at hearing his name called. "Yes?"
"Come here for a sec," Rob requested politely, not wanting to alert the rest of the family to his problem and have them follow him upstairs.
Looking puzzled, Bobby straightened up, adjusted the toddler against his side, and walked over to where Rob was standing. "You need me for something?"
"You'd better give the baby to someone else," Rob said.
After giving Rob a probing look, Bobby passed Nathan to Beth, then moved back to Rob, now looking more alarmed than curious. "What's going on? Is something wrong with Alex?"
Rob gave the room a quick look, making sure no one was watching the conversation too closely, then nodded. "I mean, she's not hurt or anything," he added hastily, anticipating the other man's reaction. "She just . . . needs you."
"Panic attack?" asked Bobby as they headed for the stairs, hoping he was interpreting Rob's words wrong.
"Uh, yeah." He sighed. "My fault. I'm sorry."
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to." Bobby waited as Rob opened the basement door, trying not to knock the other man down in his haste. "Where is she?"
"Kitchen." He let out a sigh of relief and headed for the living room as Bobby walked toward the kitchen. He'd found her partner, and now he needed to catch his breath for a minute before going back into the kitchen.
Bobby entered the kitchen cautiously, not sure what he was going to find.
What he found, it turned out, was two women sitting at the kitchen table, one watching the other with concern. He could see that there were tears on Molly's face, but he couldn't see Alex's face at all; she had her head in her hands. "Alex?" he asked softly as he walked into the room.
Alex's only response was a sniffle, but Molly looked up at him, then jumped to her feet, feeling foolish for crying over her daughter's tears. "I, uh . . ." she told Bobby quietly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she approached him. "She's out of the . . . I mean, she's not scared anymore, but she's, well . . ." She gestured to the woman at the table, who still hadn't moved. "Disappointed, I guess you could say. I'll, uh, leave you guys alone . . . do you know where Rob went?"
"No, sorry," he said, a little more curtly than he intended, as he brushed past Molly and pulled out a chair at the table. A second later, he heard her retreating footsteps as she went in search of her son. "Alex?"
She shook her head but didn't raise it to look at him. "I thought it was over," she whispered into her hands, more to herself than to him.
He wasn't quite sure what to say to that since he, too, had thought the panic attacks had been conquered. "What happened?" he asked, leaning forward and trying to get a glimpse of her face.
"Same as usual," she said, frustrated. "He wasn't paying attention and he got too close, too fast."
He slid a comforting hand across her back, letting it come to rest on the nape of her neck. "How do you feel?"
"Physically? Just fine," she said, freeing one hand to show him that it was steady. "Mentally . . . I would really, really like to kick the shit out of Steven Brewer."
He smiled slightly and gently kneaded the muscle under his hand. "That sounds healthy to me. Now, would you take you hands away from your face?"
She sighed and obediently dropped her hands, looking at him with red eyes and tearstained cheeks. "I'm just . . . I'm so fucking angry!" she ground out. "After everything . . . we've worked so hard . . . how dare they just . . . just come back?"
Angry Alex was infinitely preferable to Listless Alex, in his opinion. "It's just one time, Alex. You know . . . think how long its been since you had one at all, and then try to tell me your work hasn't helped," he challenged.
He knew she couldn't argue with the truth of that, so when she just shook her head and sighed in answer, he nodded. "Everyone's entitled to a relapse or two on the way to getting better."
"I know, but it's just . . . argh!"
He grinned at that. "You're perfectly steady now, only a few minutes after it happened. That's pretty impressive, considering how it caught you by surprise. How long did it last this time? Not as long, right?"
"I don't know . . . maybe a minute?"
He moved his hand farther across her back until he was cupping her shoulder. "This is fine, Alex," he told her, using his grip on her shoulder to pull her around to face him. "This is normal."
"You keep saying that," she protested, turning her entire body in her chair so that her knees were facing his side. "But what you mean is that it's 'normal' for people having panic attacks. I don't want to be that kind of normal! I want to be back to plain old no-panic-attacks normal!"
He applied gentle pressure to her back, urging her toward him until her head was on his shoulder and he was giving her a one-armed hug. "You will be. Just give it a little more time."
She snorted and said with a weak smile, "I want to go back to don't-have-time-for-anything normal, too."
He laughed. "You'll be there the second Deakins puts you back on the street, and then you'll wish you had more time on your hands."
"Yeah, probably," she agreed, tipping her head and pulling his chin down to give him a light, fleeting kiss of thanks. "My mom's going to think you walk on water now."
"You mean she didn't already think that?" he teased, trying to look appalled.
"Well, you know, only -"
"One frustrated two-year-old, special delivery," Laura announced as she walked into the room, a squalling Nathan in her arms, and headed for where Alex was sitting. "I'm -" She broke off, noticing both their position and Alex's face, and read the situation in seconds. "Sorry, guys. I didn't know you were . . . never mind about the baby. I'll give him to Sean."
"No," Alex said, grabbing her arm to stop her. "It's fine. I'll take him."
"You sure? You look a little . . . busy."
"Just talking," Alex replied, standing up and carefully taking the child into her arms. "Wow, when did you get so fat, Nate?"
Laura chuckled. "If you're sure you're ok with him, I'll leave you to it."
"Just fine," she said without looking up from her nephew's face.
"Oh, and if your arms get tired," Laura added on her way out of the room, "Bobby was doing really good with him downstairs, so make him pitch in."
"Uh, ok." She looked at him with raised eyebrows when Laura was gone. "You were holding him?"
Bobby ducked his head self-consciously. "Well, yeah. I think he just likes touching . . . you know, my stubble," he said, rubbing his chin.
"Well, glory be!" Alex announced with a grin as Nathan, as if to prove Bobby's point, reached out for his chin and giggled. "Finally, that useless razor you shave with has come in handy for something!"
He shrugged, leaning forward so Nathan could reach him. "I think that calming down crying babies would be an off-label use for it. Better be careful the FDA doesn't get wind of it."
She gave him a wry look and handed him the baby. "Anyone ever tell you you're weird, Goren?"
"Once or twice," he replied, barely avoiding getting a chubby two-year-old hand stuck in his mouth when he opened it. "By some woman who lets me live in her apartment, most of the time."
Alex just smirked and returned her attention to Nathan.