A/N: No, I am not going to leave it here. I'm not that mean. This was going to be the last chapter but it was turning out to be incredibly long, and I have some more thinking to do about exactly what I want to do in the last chapter. So...rather than make everyone wait, I divided it in half. Here ya go...

He sat in the car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. God, he hoped she was having a good day. She hadn't been lately. Her last good day was just after Thanksgiving...almost a month...he was tired. Wearily, he got out of the car, feeling the drain on his almost boundless energy. Taking a deep breath of the cold, snowy air, he headed into the building.

Some days this corridor was so much longer than others. Today, it seemed endless, like the bottomless chasm he spent his childhood skirting. What bothered him most was that she seemed so lucid on the phone. He talked to her every day, and most days he almost enjoyed the talks. They didn't last long, usually. But she seemed all right, and he could almost believe she was normal...almost. But she wasn't normal, and the reality of that never really left him.

The unit secretary smiled at him from her desk. "Hi, Bobby. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Sylvia. Uh, h-how is she today?"

Her eyes gave him his answer. Damn. He just nodded and headed past the desk. "Bobby?" He looked at her. She really liked this gentle man who was so devoted to his mother, even when she was cruel to him. "It'll get better."

"I appreciate that. Thanks." But he didn't believe her; he knew better.

He passed through a set of double doors and proceeded down the corridor. Stopping outside her door, he braced himself for what he knew awaited him, and passed through the doorway into the room.

The door closed quietly behind him. The lights were dim...not a good sign. 'They' were less likely to find her when the lights were low. Half his childhood had been spent in semi-darkness, as his mother tried to keep 'them' from finding him. She was lying on her bed, quiet for the moment, and he hesitated disturbing her.

But she heard him. "Who's there?"

"It's just me, Mom."

Her face turned toward him, but it did not soften into a smile, and he cringed. "You look like my boy, but how do I know you are Bobby?"

"It's me, I promise. I came to say Merry Christmas."

"Christmas? It's not Christmas. If it were Christmas there would be lights and a tree."

"There was, but you tried to choke an orderly with the lights and break the window with your tree. So the nurses had to take them away. Didn't Father Patrick come by to see you this morning?"

"Of course he did. It's Sunday."

"No, Mom. It's Wednesday. He came by because it's Christmas Day."

By gentle reminders, he tried to bring her back to reality. It used to work more often than it had lately, and he took that as a sign her condition was worsening. He sighed. "It's not important. I'm here to see you. Is it ok if I come over and sit by you?"

Last week he hadn't asked and she'd freaked out, thinking he was one of Satan's demons. Despite the restraints, she'd tried to attack him. He saw with regret that she was still in restraints. She glared at him. "Why would you ask to come near me?"

"Because last week you got upset that I didn't."

"My son wouldn't need to ask. Get out."

"Mom..."

"Do not call me that!" she screamed. "Only my son can call me that, only my Bobby!"

"I am Bobby," he protested weakly, knowing it would make no difference. Today, he was one of 'them,' as he had been for the past month. To the best of his knowledge, the only person in his mother's world who had never been one of 'them' was Father Patrick. A lapsed altar boy like himself would never live up to her expectations. He remembered when she'd told him that. A failure...worthless in God's eyes and hers. He choked back the tears that threatened. "Mom..."

"Beelzebub! Do not call me that! You're trying to trick me! You want to steal my soul!" And she screamed. Fuck. That was it. The visit was over. "Merry Christmas," he muttered, knowing she couldn't hear him. He slipped out the door as she struggled against the restraints.

He was relieved to see a nurse heading his way. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He gave her a sad smile. "I'm Beelzebub today."

"Who?"

"Uh, one of Satan's chief demons. I'm impersonating her son."

"I'll get her sedative. Do you think you can calm her down?"

"My presence just seems to agitate her today. I think I'd better go."

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Uh, Merry Christmas."

He headed down the corridor away from her. She hurried toward the nurses' station, away from the screams. As she drew up the proper medication, she couldn't keep her mind off the distressed young man who only wanted to spend a quiet Christmas visiting his mother. She saw the deep sadness in his eyes and knew only too well that the well from which that sadness sprung ran very deep. She headed back down the hall to Frances Goren's room.

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The tree in the corner was bright with colored lights and golden ornaments. She could see the ornament with her picture on it that she had given her parents when she was in the fourth grade. Why did they keep that old junk? Because it meant something to them. She hoped that someday she would have children of her own and that she would love them as much as her parents loved her. Parents...and love...her thoughts turned to her partner and how both those things seemed to have been missing in his past. She wondered how much that had to do with his remoteness. She knew that it was why he refused to let people in...why he refused to let her get close. All she could do was keep reassuring him, keep trying to get close, gently tapping away at the wall he hid behind with her toothpick and little wooden mallet. She refused to give up on him, like everyone else had. To her, Bobby was worth getting close to.

John Eames lowered himself onto the couch beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. She rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "Why so sad, pumpkin?"

"It's nothing, Dad."

"It looked like a lot of something to me."

"I was just thinking about Bobby."

"That doesn't usually make you sad," he observed.

She sighed. "Dad, you and Mom always made our lives happy. We're a close family and we still get together and enjoy each other. I look back on my childhood fondly. It was a happy time in my life. He didn't have that. Do you know how he spends Christmas? He spends it alone. That's what makes me sad."

John sighed. "Is it his choice to be alone?"

"What? Why would anyone choose to be alone?"

"Some people do, Alex."

She thought about that, seeing in her mind the look on his face when they'd talked about it. She shook her head. "No. I don't think it's his choice. I think it's because he doesn't have anyone to spend it with."

"No girlfriend?"

"Not that he's ever mentioned. He visits his mother, but that seems to be a crapshoot whether it's a good visit or a bad one."

"Why's that?"

"She's sick, out at Carmel Ridge."

John nodded understanding. Then he sighed. "So what can you do about it, Alex?"

"I told him we would spend the evening together. I don't want him to be alone, Dad."

"I don't think he is anymore. He has you, doesn't he?"

She smiled. "He does, but he's not going to impose on our friendship. He's not one to push that way."

"Then you'll have to pull. Let him know where the boundaries are and maybe he'll be less uncertain. Don't leave him guessing. Let him know he's important to you." He studied her. "Just remember your boundaries, Alex. Don't jeopardize your partnership for a roll in the hay."

"Dad!"

He laughed. "I know, I know...You seem to have settled in with him and accepted him. I'm proud of you, Alex, for giving him a chance. Are you glad you did?"

"Absolutely. I can honestly say I have never had a partner like him."

"Come on. Let's eat so you can get on with your evening."

She gave him another squeeze. "Thanks, Dad."

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He was probably driving a little too fast for the weather, but at first he didn't care. The trauma of this visit stung harshly. He was maybe nine years old the first time she'd called him a demon. He hadn't understood...just like he hadn't understood, when he was seven, why she locked him in a closet when 'they' were coming to get him. All he remembered was being terrified. It was years before he realized 'they' did not exist, before he came to understand his father was a bigger threat to his health and well-being than 'they' would ever be, except in his mother's mind. The biggest threat 'they' ever presented was in the beatings she gave him when he became 'them' in her warped perceptions.

He was halfway back to town when he remembered he promised to call Alex after his visit. Alex. He took a deep breath, and he could feel himself calming. She had become his anchor in an uncertain world. She gave him hope that his life actually meant something to someone, that he really was worth caring about. After all, if someone like her--respected and well-liked--could step into a friendship with him, one that existed outside the job, maybe there was a chance that his life would turn out ok beyond the job he loved so much.

He pulled the car over to the side of the road and took out his phone, pressing '2' and waiting for her to answer.

"Hi, Bobby."

"Hey. How's your visit going?"

"It's fine. How's your mom?"

"Uh, don't ask. I...I just wanted to let you know I was on my way back, because you asked me to." He paused. "Stay with your family, Eames. I...I'm afraid I just won't be good company tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bobby..."

"Tell your folks Merry Christmas for me. Good night."

He ended the call and turned off the phone. He rested his head on the steering wheel. Shit. Why had he done that? He really needed to spend time with her. But he refused to let his bad humor ruin her holiday. He would never let his perception of his own needs negatively impact his partner. She deserved happiness, and he was nowhere near happy tonight. Of course, now he felt worse, but it was his own doing. Alex had a close-knit, happy family, and she should be with them, not with him. Shifting into drive, he pulled back onto the road and headed home.