A/N: Er yeah, obviously I have had a not-good few weeks. Midterm hell, plus utter lack of mental energy/inspiration. I'm on spring break now, so I'm trying to reboot my brain back into writing mode. As a result, you get this somewhat clumsy chapter. I also have a new chapter of White Hat started, as well as a new short-ish story in the works. Hopefully I can get on the ball and get those out to you guys sometime before I get booted out of school!

Bobby was sitting in John Eames's kitchen later that afternoon, trying to think of a way to occupy himself without disrupting the family, when he became aware of a slight form dropping into another chair at the table.

"Al-" he began, turning to the newcomer and expecting to find the familiar face of his ex-partner. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with Maggie, who didn't look much more pleased to see him than he was to see her. "Oh," he said lamely after an awkward pause. "Sorry."

"It's ok." Maggie sighed and, resting her elbows on the table, propped her chin in her hands. "Look, I owe you an apology."

Bobby blinked. "No, Maggie, you -"

"Yes, I do." She sighed again and looked away. "I've been . . . taking things out on you since you got here, and you don't deserve it. I know you probably screwed up whatever you had out in California to come back here for Alex now, and I shouldn't be . . ."

"You don't owe me an apology, ok?" he managed, more gruffly than he'd intended. "Your obligation is to your sister, not me, and as far as I can tell you haven't hurt her. So just . . . you don't owe me anything, ok?"

Maggie snorted derisively, a sound that almost made him think for a second that he was talking to Alex after all. "You know as well as I do that I couldn't hurt Alex if I punched her in the face, not with how numb she is right now. Hurting you, on the other hand . . . "

Aware of the fact that she was right, he just shrugged and looked down at his hands. "Is there something I can do for you, Maggie?"

"You could tell me you're hearing what I'm saying. Believe it or not, I'm not the cold bitch you seem to think I am. I just think . . . I think we should make peace, to keep from making things any worse for Alex."

"I'm not angry with you. As far as I'm concerned, peace is already made." God, why wouldn't the woman leave him alone? The last thing he was interested in right now was jumping into the fray of family politics, especially as it related to Alex's short-tempered sister.

"Oh." Maggie clasped her hands tightly in front of her on the table. "Ok, then. Well, I'm not angry at you either. So . . . ok?"

"Ye-"

"Bobby?"

Both people at the table looked up at the woman standing in the kitchen doorway. A second later, Bobby jumped to his feet, catching a knee on the underside of the table and nearly toppling it. "Alex! What's . . . is everything ok?"

Maggie smoothly caught the table and set it back on even ground, then looked up at her sister. "Hey."

"Hey. What are you . . . what's going on in here?" Alex ventured warily, looking from one of the room's occupants to the other.

"Just talking," Bobby said as easily as he could manage as he moved toward her. "Were you looking for one of us?"

"Uh, yeah." She took another step into the room and laid a hand lightly on his back, trying to comfort herself with the contact. "We're done with the calls and I, uh . . . I want to get out of here," she finished after giving her sister an awkward look. "I mean, I'm not . . ."

"Don't," Maggie interrupted. "I know. I just didn't want to be the first one to admit it." She stood and crossed the room to hug her sister. "Go home, Alex. Laurie volunteered to stay with Dad tonight, so I'm going to grab David and head home, too. I'm just . . ."

". . . so tired," Alex finished with a sigh. "Yeah."

"Then go." She gave Bobby's arm a small push, knocking him into Alex. "Both of you, go."

"She's right," Bobby said quietly, taking hold of the hand Alex had on his back. "Let's go."

"Alex?" Bobby asked a few hours later, turning away from the stove to study the way she was slumped in a chair in her apartment's kitchen. "Are you ok?"

Her lips quirked in a rough approximation of a smile. "Depends on your definition of 'ok,' I guess. I'm still alive. Haven't gotten hysterical yet . . ."

With a slight nod, he turned back to their dinner, not wanting her to see his face as he said, "Maybe you should."

"Mayb- . . . what?"

"Your brother was right," he said simply. "You don't like to talk about what upsets you, so you just hold it in. Except maybe around me, but even then you don't let it all out. I'm just saying . . . maybe you should, just once."

"What?" she said sharply. "You think it would do anyone any good for me to burst out crying? Come on, Bobby. you know as well as I do that hysterical people only make things more difficult for everyone."

"You're not everyone."

"Drop it, Goren. I'm not going to let myself fall apart."

"I'm not saying you should let yourself fall apart. I just mean . . ."

"Shut up!"

Surprised by her sharp words and her sudden jump to her feet, Bobby turned to face her again. "What?"

"Did I not talk loud enough? I told you to shut up. The idea of you telling mehow I'm supposed to deal with losing someone I love . . ." She forced out an incredulous laugh. "Do you have any idea how fucking ridiculous that is?"

So much for her not having the energy to fight with him about past events, he thought, stifling a sigh. "Alex, I'm not trying to tell you how to -"

"Yes, you are. And it's . . ." There was silence for a long moment as she fumbled for the right words, and then she just groaned and repeated, "It's just fucking ridiculous, ok?"

"Ok." The spatula he'd been holding was deposited on the spoon rest that sat in the center of the range and he wiped his hands on the hem of his t-shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Stop talking to me like I'm some kind of time bomb!"

He dropped his hands and looked at her blankly. "Excuse me?"

"You're talking to me like I'm some . . . some . . . unstable person who needs to be handled with kid gloves to keep her from losing it! I'm not like your mother, Bobby!"

There was a moment of thunderous silence, and then he turned away from her and planted his hands flat on the counter, trying to regain some semblance of control over his warring emotions. "I didn't say you were like her. I know you're not. And I thought I was just being nice. If you'd rather have me chew you out, I can do that, too," he added sardonically. "Just say the word, Alex, and I'll be glad to."

"Oh, right. Of course I'm not like her, because if I were, then maybe I'd actually matter to you, and we both know I don't! So obviously I'm not anything like her, huh?"

Bobby stiffened, and she watched his fingers curl around the edge of the counter so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he didn't respond to her taunt.

Oh god, she thought as she read the pain in his posture, what the hell could have possessed her to fling his mother in his face? After all she knew about his relationship with his mother, and what he had to have gone through in the past year to take care of her? Stifling a groan, she crossed the room to stand slightly behind him. "Look, Bobby, I'm -"

He waved a hand, forestalling her apology. "Don't. Just . . . dinner's almost ready, ok? Let's just . . . eat."

"Bobby . . ."

"I said don't," he bit out, still not looking at her. "It's not important."

"What the . . .?" Not dissuaded by his attempt at coolness, she laid a hand tentatively on his arm. "Of course it's important. We're fighting over it, aren't we?"

"No, Eames. You are fighting over it. I just happen to be in the room." He shook her hand off, not bothering to be gentle, and moved away from her. "And I should know better than to let myself be around you when you get like this."

"When I get like what?" she demanded sharply, her regret over her earlier comment momentarily overshadowed by anger at his words. "Upset over someone I love dying? How the hell would you know anything about how I react to loss? You've never hung around for it!"

"What the hell was I supposed to do, after you avoided me for a week and then refused to speak to me for almost a year?" He was almost shouting now, he realized as she jumped back at the sound of his voice. Well, what did she expect, stirring up resentment he thought he'd buried long ago? "This isn't doing either of us any good," he said after a second, deliberately lowering his voice. "Look, just . . ." He jerked his head toward the pan simmering on the stove. "The food's ready. Eat something. I'm . . . going for a walk."

"What? Bobby!"

Without looking back, even at her exclamation of alarm, he grabbed his coat off the door handle it had been hanging on and fled the apartment.