Anger
"Uh, Robert Goren?"
"Yes?" Bobby sat at his desk which, as usual, was covered in papers with his cell phone to his ear. He had been officially suspended but both he and Deakins knew he would still show up for paperwork if nothing else. Besides, Deakins couldn't complain about the work that was being finished earlier than expected.
"You're name was given in case of emergencies."
"Wha, what do you mean?"
"Here at Gold's Gym we ask everyone to fill out a from, including contact information, in case of emergency. Alexandra—"
"What happened!" Bobby shot out of his chair, ready to flee to the gym.
"Sir! She is over working herself. She won't stop! We called a few people over to drag her away so she wouldn't over exhaust herself, but she ended up punching them instead. We were hoping you could make her stop."
"I'll be there." Bobby's mood grew dark. Alex was over-exerting herself. Of course she would, she was upset and bullheaded. If she wanted something, nothing could get in her way and she wouldn't stop until she got it.
Without a backwards look he took off toward the gym, leaving in such a hurry that he forgot his coat.
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Alex didn't know how long she had been there. It had been at least twenty minutes since the two large men had attempted to drag her from the punching bag. Oh, they let her go quickly once she started flailing like a mad woman. She smiled grimly at the thought; she probably was a mad woman.
Earlier that morning she had waited until she heard Bobby and Carolyn leave and then she left too. She could not stand another day cooped up in her house, alone. Work was out of the question, as was visiting with her family. She didn't feel like a nice calm walk in the park either. She felt like moving, like being violent.
Last night she had been right. No matter what she did, she was the one doing it, right? Therefore how could she not be herself? She was the one who had to deal with the aftermath, she had gotten herself into the situation, she was the one who hadn't tried hard enough to fight back. It was her fault and her consequences. Everything rested on her shoulders. How dare Bobby imply that she couldn't be herself? That she had to be treated as an entirely different person because of what happened? Couldn't he just ignore it too and start over from before the opera bombings ever started? No, he couldn't. He could never let anything die. She was still hearing grief about the Turner case back in 2003 and even more from the Tagman case more recently.
She could feel the sweat drip from her forehead and her arms, down her chest and into her sports bra. God, she hated that feeling. She probably looked like shit, but she didn't care. Fuck what the world thinks. She was getting tired too, she would have to admit that to herself soon. But she wouldn't stop, nothing would make her stop. She was too furious for that. Jab, jab, punch, upper-cut, followed by a reverse spinning crescent kick. That did it. She fell, the pain from the extra force doing more damage to her already injured hip. Lying on the ground, she was reminded that that was where Diego had kicked her the most. God damn, but he had a strong kick! It hurt like a bitch then, and it hurt like a bitch now.
She lay on the ground, holding her hip and letting her breath become slightly steadier, until she saw a shadow at the door. She got up, no one was taking her out of this room. No one was going to stop her workout from hell. Without looking back, she returned to attacking the bag that hung before her as if she was in the best shape in her life.
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Bobby was led to the room where Alex was. Upon arriving at the door, he saw her lying on the ground. His eyes widened. She had fallen, probably injured herself more, and her breathing was so erratic. But before he could do anything, she was up and punching the leather clad bag again. "Alex, stop. You're going to hurt yourself."
"Fuck off." She said it with full anger and released a powerful hammer punch to the bag at temple height, a loud grunt accompanying it.
Bobby was taken aback. Alex was not in her right mind. She would never say anything like that to him, like he was scum. He had pissed her off last night, and obviously she hadn't gotten over it yet. He saw her point, but he was right, she would eventually have to come to terms with what had happened. There was no talking her out of this one, not right now anyway.
He hesitated. She was fierce and brutal, and he really didn't want to be near her, especially considering he knew he was the main focus of her anger, or so she thought. But he had no choice, it was either watch her exhaust herself to the point of collapse, or stop her by any means possible. He hated to do it, he really did. Who knew what mental state she'd be in afterwards, but it had to be done, she was hurting herself.
Her grunts were getting weaker by the moment and all her attention was focused the anger that was consuming her. She never heard him coming up behind her. Quickly, he wrapped his thick, strong arms around the middle of her body, trapping her arms as best he could by her sides. He picked he up off the ground slightly so she wouldn't be able to throw him down. Instantly, she began to writhe, trying vainly to escape. His grip was tight and she knew she wouldn't be able to get away. Fear tore through her. His arms where around her again. Sweat filled the air, and breath was warm and played with her senses. She could feel it fall down her bare shoulders again. She couldn't move; she tried so hard. She would fight back, had too. This couldn't happen again, couldn't.
She was on the floor, in a different place. She still couldn't move but she knew that something heavy had fallen. She didn't want to open her eyes but she was back at the opera house, she could feel it. There was the same weight around her middle that kept her from moving an inch. Everything felt warm and sticky; she must have been injured. She should call for help. But she couldn't, she was too tired, too beaten to care.
"Alex! Alex!" Her excessive movements had thrown him off kilter and they had both fallen. He couldn't see her face, but he knew something was wrong. She had been screaming in fear before they fell—he had been expecting that, her natural reaction should have been fear. But now she was whimpering, crying. She tried to curl into the fetal position, but his arms were in the way and he wasn't about to let go. "Alex." His voice grew soft, knowing full well that he had probably tipped her over the edge.
"Sir?" The young man from the front desk who had initially led him to her, and had probably been the one who had first called him, cried, a look of shock plastered on his face.
"Call an ambulance." Bobby called to him before turning his attention away from the door and back to the woman still shivering in his arms. He placed a kiss on her head, reminiscent of calmer times, and then turned his head to lay his cheek on her head hoping against hope that she would stop quaking. "Alex, wake up! Please, Alex! Please come back!" He squeezed his eyes, his body tightening around her, trying to shield her against her own pain. But the tears came to his eyes and he let out a moan of sadness.