Author's Note: This story comes with a free box of Kleenex. Yup, I set my angst meter at 11 and went overboard. Can't say much else about it, lol. I would like to announce the opening of the Law & Order fanfiction awards for those of you at LiveJournal. Check it out (http/community. nominate some fics and enjoy your stay! We're trying to get more authors from here...there...lol. Anyway, on to the fic!

Title: Whiskey and Gold
Author: GusTheMoose
Theme/Set: Cold Comfort/Criminal Intent
Rating: R
Claim + additional character(s): Alex Eames/Bobby Goren
Warning: Character Death
Summary: He drained the whole glass in one burning swallow.

He can't think of anything else to do in this situation but to drink. He wants to be numb. He wants to stop thinking, stop remembering. It hurts so much. So he reaches for the hardest alcohol he has because he's not playing around tonight. He's going to drink himself as close to oblivion as he can.

As he pours the whiskey into a tumbler he remembers Deakins patting him on the back like a father and telling him it was okay. He'd done everything he could. No one was to blame, it was just one those things no one can expect. But he should have known. That damn intuition everyone kept praising him for should have seen something.

With the whiskey in one hand and her badge in the other he dropped to his couch, trying to find answers in the amber liquid. Problem was he could only see his failures.

It was supposed to be simple. He and Alex had just had to bring the perp in for questioning. Sure, Bobby suspected the perp was connected to the murder, but he hadn't suspected just how desperate the perp was to hide that fact.

He drained the whole glass in one burning swallow. It eased nothing.

Where had the gun come from? He can't remember, but he remembers clearly seeing it pointed at Alex. He remembers the sudden noise and his gun in his hand. He returned fire a second too late. Alex is falling and he's running to her side. And he remembers, so clearly, her eyes looking up at him with pain and wonder.

No, no, no, no! His worn and battered soul yells while his body pours more whiskey. He can't think about that. He can't think about her warm blood as it ran through his fingers. He can't think about everything he wanted to tell her, but he was too busy radioing for help. Most of all, he can't think about her saying good-bye.

He threw the glass across the room, watching it shatter. Picking up the bottle he swallows as much as he can as quickly as he can. This has to help, this has to make it stop, his soul cries out, because it can't live without it's other half.

Carver's suddenly in his mind, also congratulating him. Apparently Bobby's preformed another miracle interrogation. But it's wrong, it's all wrong. She's not waiting to roll her eyes behind Carver's back. She's not waiting to tell him not to let it go to his head. His new partner, the mere thought's disdainful, is waiting silently already asking Deakins for a new partner.

He drops the bottle, and clutches her badge with both hands. It's a cold comfort, but with Alex dead, he'll take anything he has left.