Bobby allowed himself to fume for half the day before finally admitting to himself that she had been right. He had changed, toward her and nearly everyone else who cared about him, in the past few months. He hadn't been aware of it at the time, and he certainly hadn't intended to do it, but it had happened all the same. And all because of one short phone call.

Three months ago, Pine Brook Medical Center in Los Angeles had called to inform him that his mother had been accepted into the clinical trial of a new anti-psychotic drug. He'd forgotten he even submitted an application for the trial in question; after ten years of consistently being rejected, he usually forgot about applications almost as soon as he sent them in, knowing that he was just going through the motions.

If his mother was going to LA, so was he. At least, that's the way he'd always assumed it would work, if and when the day came that she got a chance. He wouldn't abandon her to a bunch of strangers.

But that was before he let himself fall in love with his partner here in New York. If anyone had asked him before that phone call whether he would voluntarily leave Alex, he would have . . . well, he probably would have looked at them like they'd grown another head. Of course he wasn't going to leave her, not when it had taken so long to find her!

It had never occurred to him that he might have to choose between the two women in his life, and when Pine Brook had called and the choice had been forced upon him, he had tried to avoid making a decision as long as possible. He'd been turning the problem over and over in his mind for months now, and obviously his partner had noticed that something was wrong - very wrong. Had he really been treating her that badly?

You screamed at her to get out of your apartment, his conscience reminded him. That's not exactly a recommended method of courtship.

God, he'd screwed up. Without even realizing it, he'd managed to do the one thing he wanted most desperately not to do: he'd driven her away. Somehow she'd taken the abuse for three months - looking back, he knew she must have given him second chance after second chance before finally reaching her breaking point, but now she was done with him, and he couldn't blame her in the slightest.

She had been trying to reassure him even as he forced her out out his life, he remembered, allowing himself a smile. How very Alex, to try to soften the blow.

The hell of it was that now that he'd kicked his partner out of his life, there was only one choice left of the original two. His parting with Alex had been, well, less than friendly. Even if she'd been telling the truth about wanting to fix things with the "old" him, the fact was that he couldn't give her what she wanted - he didn't even know who the "old" him was any longer. With this blow-up hanging over his head, working side-by-side with her would be . . . difficult, at best. He didn't want to put her through any more than he already had, so maybe being gone was the best thing he could do for her right now.

Bobby was going to Los Angeles.

She let him into her apartment with only a wary look as a reminder of how he'd treated her the day before. He wondered as he slowly stepped inside if she knew that most women - and, probably, most men - wouldn't blame her if she had just slammed the door in his face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked matter-of-factly. "I was under the impression that my face wasn't exactly on the top of your list of things you wanted to see."

"I . . ." He swallowed. "I need to apologize to you."

Alex cocked her head to the side and scrutinized her partner/non-boyfriend. He looked tired, but then, that wasn't unusual for him. Still there was something . . . something that seemed changed about him, if she could only put her finger on it. "Ok," she said with a shrug. "If you feel like you need to. It's not like you weren't provoked, though. Don't feel too bad."

He tried not to gape at her. Did the woman have a halo she'd been hiding from him? She was trying to equate his screaming fit with her quiet "goodbye" speech? "That's not true, and we both know it," he managed, looking away from her. "You . . . I was completely in the wrong. I'm well aware of that now that I've had time to cool down."

The difference, she realized now, was that he was . . . talking to her. Really, truly talking, and trying to explain what was going on in his head. It had been months since he'd bothered to do that for her. "Why now, Bobby?"

"Pardon?" he said, confused at her apparent non sequitur.

"One argument can't change a person's personality. I . . . why are you suddenly apologizing and talking to me like this, when a week ago, you wouldn't have seen the need to apologize at all?"

Bobby sighed. He ought to have known that his partner wasn't one to beat around the bush. "I'm sorry . . . for how I was. Yesterday, I . . . you made me think back, and I realized you were right. I was withdrawing."

"Well that's nice and all," she said pointedly, "but I asked why, not what."

"I've been . . . preoccupied. Stuff about my mother," he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. "I . . . had to make some big decisions, and I didn't want to make them. I guess maybe I took it out on you."

"Your . . . is she ok?" Alex asked, a look of concern washing the irritated expression off her face.

He held up a hand to stave off her worried questions. "She's fine. She . . . she might be even more fine soon. She's been accepted into a clinical trial, and -"

"Bobby, that's great! You've been trying to get her into one of those for years! What are they testing?"

"It's . . . a new anti-psychotic. Tests on animals look promising, so the FDA approved human testing. But Alex, there's -"

"Is it one of the ones at Columbia?" she cut him off. "They run a lot, right?"

He put his hand into his coat pocket so he could clench his fist without her seeing. "No, not Columbia. It's . . . it's at a clinic run by the UCLA medical school."

She blinked. "UCLA? How is she going to get there? Can she travel?"

"Please . . ." he said, motioning for her to be quiet. "Don't. Just . . . let me talk."

She nodded, keeping her wide eyes on his face. Something was coming. Something he didn't like. Whatever it was, she was pretty sure she wasn't going to like it, either.

"She can travel as long as she has someone with her," he explained quietly. "That's me. I'm going with her. The trial . . . its length is indefinite. It could be weeks, it could be years . . ." He stopped to steel himself as understanding began to show on her face. "I . . . have some friends on the job there and I'm . . . the LAPD offered me a temporary position, for however long I need it."

Her eyes still glued to his face, Alex felt behind her for the kitchen chair she knew was there. Finding it after a few seconds, she lowered herself into it without looking away from him. "You're . . . leaving? Your mother . . . Bobby . . ." she stammered, then gave up and dropped her head into her hands. "You're moving to Los Angeles."

Wishing desperately that he knew how to read her reaction, he nodded even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Not . . . permanently, but the amount of time . . . I don't know."

"This is what's had you so upset the last few months?" she asked, the words muffled by her hands. "Bobby, why didn't you . . . damn it, how could you do this?" She jerked her head up then and fixed a hot glare on him. "I thought you felt like you could tell me anything. I . . . this whole time . . ." She stopped, swallowing hard, and lowered her eyes again.

"Alex, I -"

She shook her head before he could finish the apology. "I think you should . . . go," she told him weakly, waving a hand to the door. "I . . . I hope your mother does good there, I really do, but I . . . can't deal with this right now. Please, go."

Unwilling to leave her after having upset her so much, he moved closer to her instead. "Please, listen to me. I -"

"Go!" she shouted, then found herself embarrassed to hear her voice tremble on the word. God, she couldn't take any more of this without screaming, or crying, or both; she needed to escape. "Go, Bobby," she repeated as she jumped to her feet and headed for her bedroom. "Enjoy California."

Her words were punctuated by the soft click of her bedroom door closing.

TBC . . .

A/N: Yeah, so I'm not even positive that UCLA has a med school, and there's certainly no Pine Brook clinic, so just . . . go on and suspend that disbelief!