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As Alex recovered in the hospital over the next few weeks, her mood was decidedly maudlin. Well, maybe not mauldin, maybe justifiably depressed, but never the less, she was no happy camper. Her doctor didn't help, and over all, she just couldn't wait to get home. Bobby came to visit her frequently, but it was obvious his mind was elsewhere, which made her emotional recovery more difficult.

After a few days at home on bed rest, with Bobby coming over to make her food and help her eat, she began to feel like a human being again. That, and the ridiculous tragic romance that the two of them tiptoed around, gave her something to focus on, besides no longer having an arm.

Soon enough, it was time to return to work, and discover what the fates had in store for them. Deakins had visited Alex at the hospital, as had Carver, and Logan and Barek, and a handful of other characters from different precincts. Regardless, she had no idea what the future held for her as a part of the NYPD.

Bobby stood next to her chair, and Deakins watched her sadly from behind his desk.

"I don't have anything to tell you yet, Alex. I just want to know what, if anything, you two would like to have happen here."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to keep you together, but if that's not what you want..." He shrugged. "Give me an idea of what you guys want to do, and I'll fight for it."

"I don't know that staying together would be possible.." Alex looked fragile and sad in her chair. Deakins refused to look at Bobby's expression.

"Alex, I know you're still recovering, but if you'd lost a leg, or become paralyzed, that would be a much more severe situation. You'd have to adapt to a prosthetic, or god forbid a wheel chair. As it is, ... you won't be able to drive as easily anymore, but I think honestly that would be the only real change that would irritate you. You'd have to practice shooting one handed --"

"Captain.." Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she shook her head.

"I'm just saying that we can work around this. I'm not saying it's not going to be difficult, or that it's a minor incident.. I'm saying we want you here, and we'll do whatever it takes to keep you. Whatever you feel comfortable with --" He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. "I'm not asking for a decision now. I just want you to think about it. The reason I actually called you in here is to tell you both that you're taking mandatory leave for a month. I've got a cabin in Montana, a great little place, actually. My wife and I vacation there sometimes. I think it'll be a good way for you to get away for a while, and adjust to your new situation."

The detectives had no choice. They gratiously accepted two first class plane tickets and a keyring from the Captain. They had the weekend to pack and get ready before they had to leave.

"'Adjust to our new situation,'" Eames spat, as they walked towards the SUV. They both had to pause to remember that she was sitting on the passenger side instead of him.

"I'd adjust him for you, but I'm no use to you in prison."

"Stop making me laugh, I'm not in the mood."

He sighed.

The next few days were hectic. Goren was constantly driving back and forth between his apartment and Eames' to help her pack. It wasn't uncommon for her to become frustrated with her lack of ability to pack or fold or do any number of tasks with only one hand, and start throwing things, or shouting at him. He was relieved she didn't just curl in a ball and cry like she did at the hospital. More so, he was delighted her sarcastic and mildly sadistic doctor weren't around to assure them both that "...suicidal depression is pretty normal, actually. I mean, she just had her arm shot off, and she's a cop. That's got to suck. I mean, you guys are detectives right? I read about you in the papers. It's like, what you do. I'd be suicidal, too."

When he'd glared at the little punk, the doctor just laughed. "Whoa buddy, maybe focus your attention on someone who isn't trying to help. Like to guy who shot and raped her? Oh right. You were reduced to tears and screams of vengeance. That's like, so Dynasty. I didn't know people did that in real life. Especially not trained cops."

Finally, they were on the plane to Montana. As they settled in for the flight, and Eames tried to read a book one handed -- she finally, gracefully allowed Bobby to supply her with tabloid magazines that lay flat -- the conversation was painfully contrived.

"Alex,"

"Hmm." She didn't look up from US Weekly's article on Angelina Jolie's ultrasound.

"About what I said earlier."

"You said a lot of things earlier," She looked pointedly at him.

"The bit about this being a horrible fiction."

"You mean, the part where you justify your incompetence?"

"And yours."

"Right," She said quietly, looking down.

"None of this was supposed to happen, okay?"

"I'm scared that if I believe that.. if we believe that, we'll lose total touch with reality, and start doing really loopy shit."

"We already do loopy shit. I just think.. there might be an alternative to this."

"Bobby, I don't have an arm anymore," Though she whispered, her voice cracked slightly. "There isn't an alternative to that. We can't go back in time. I'm not a cyborg -- I can't regenerate. I mean, unless you know someone who can perform miracles.. I just.. I don't know how you expect to change what's happened."

He sighed, but didn't lose the determined look in his eyes.

"Did you bring your laptop?" He asked her, after they had begun unpacking.

"Yeah. It's in the case next to the door." She nodded towards it.

"Deakins says the house has a wireless network, so we should be able to get online."

"Since when did you become so interested in the web?"

"Since I found a certain website, which proves my theory."

"What theory? Bobby.. if you try and get me into some weird cyber religion, I swear..."

"No, no, just wait," He watched the laptop boot up, then opened Internet Explorer. "Just watch."

He clicked the address bar, and typed in http/

"Fan fiction?"

"Yeah."

"Listen, Bobby..." Before she could object, though, she was reading her own name in a story that made her blush.

"Wait, wait, that's not the one I want to show you." He muttered, hitting the back button.

"I feel .. I feel violated." She sat down on the bed. He gave her a wan smile.

"Look, read this one." He handed her the laptop, and she scrolled down, reading with ever widening eyes the very story she was in.

"Bobby.. I said all of these things.. my doctor.. Deakins.. it's all in here! Oh my god..."

"Keep reading."

"This is the worst piece of writing I've ever seen. I mean, the grammar and spelling alone is horrible."

"Do you believe me now?"

"I'm starting to.. but ... Bobby, how ... how do we change this? It's written, and ... we're .. my head hurts."

"I have an idea." His eyes gleamed now, and he grinned at her. "What if we were to ... finish the story. Alter it."

"You're no hacker."

"Yeah, but you have friends who are. I think they'd be able to hack this... RedBakaCSIflufftrooper741203 person."

Her eyes widened, and for the first time in weeks, she looked hopeful.

A popular soap opera, back in the day.

This fic is intended to be a mockery of every fic writer, myself included. Please R&R.