When he returned to the beach outside the motel, he was having a hard time catching his breath. He'd pushed himself hard. So he walked around the beach as his heart rate and breathing slowly returned to normal. He continued walking to cool down, heading down to the waterline, letting the waves splash about his legs and recede. Looking down, he saw a shell bouncing around in the surf at his feet. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was perfect. It was rare to find a perfect shell in the surf. The action of water and sand on the delicate shells quickly wore holes in the sides and often chipped the edges. There was little wear on this one. Stirred up by the storm, it had not been in the surf for long. Cradling it in his hand, he carried it back to his room, setting it with care on the table by his badge, wallet and phone. He took a shower, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and sand, and he tried to relax. It wasn't easy. After getting ready for bed, he picked up his phone and looked at the time. Almost midnight. He didn't realize it was so late.
He slid into bed, turning the phone over in his hands. She hadn't called, but he wasn't surprised. He was the one who promised to stay in touch. Now how she interpreted that...well, that was what mattered. Did she expect a daily call? If she did, and he didn't follow through, she'd be pissed. But if he called this late...hell, she wouldn't be mad at him for waking her. He pressed the speed dial and waited.
"Hey, you," she answered. She didn't sound as though he'd woken her.
"Hi. I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Not tonight, but it is kind of late."
"Sorry. I went for a run."
"How are you feeling? Making any progress?"
He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. "Uh, no, not really."
"I wish you would tell me what's wrong."
Tell her...He pushed the thought away. "I...I can't, Eames."
"You have no idea how much that troubles me, Bobby. I can't imagine what has come between us, why you can't talk to me anymore."
"No, it's not that. It's nothing that's come between us." Or was it? "I..."
He found himself choking up, unable to get past the lump in his throat to talk to her. If she had been there, she would have seen it. But he stopped talking before she heard it. "If it's nothing between us, then what is it? I have been wracking my brain here, and I can't think of anything I've done..."
"It's not you," he managed.
She was silent, trying to read his tone, but she couldn't. All she knew was that he sounded upset. If she pushed now, he would probably shut down on her and that would be the end of their talk tonight. So she did what she usually did; she changed the subject. "I haven't had much to do, you know. I finished the paperwork, so Deakins has me helping Stevens and DeMarco with theirs."
"I...I'm sorry."
This wasn't working. She wanted more than anything to see him, so she could help him through whatever he was struggling with. She was having a hard time with this, too, and he didn't understand that. This time he was so wrapped up in his own misery that he couldn't see hers. "What can I do to help you?" she whispered, keeping her voice low so he wouldn't hear how upset she was. It didn't work.
"You're upset."
He was so good at stating the flipping obvious. "Of course I'm upset. I swear, Bobby...I am so ready to just smack the shit out of you." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I handle anger better than other emotions."
"I know. You can be angry with me."
"Oh, I am, don't worry about that."
He laughed softly, and she felt her irritation fade. She always loved to hear him laugh. "I miss you," he said suddenly.
That caught her off guard. Before she could stop herself, she snapped, "You're the one who left."
He was quiet. That hurt, but he knew she was right. He was the one who left, who was staying away. All he had to do was tell her where he was and she'd jump in the car and be there in a few hours. And he was so tempted... "I, uh, I'd better go."
She'd pushed too hard in the wrong direction. He was shutting down now. She could kick herself for snapping at him. If she hadn't she might have been able to talk him into letting her help him. She could have convinced him to give in. "Bobby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's ok, Eames. I deserved it. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night."
He closed the phone and set it on the table. She was upset. She was blaming herself and that wasn't fair. This was not in any way her fault. But he had no idea how to reassure her. She wanted to be with him, and God knew he wanted her there, but he wasn't ready for her. Not yet. He questioned the wisdom of calling her every night; she was going to wear him down and he was going to give in. He knew it. So why did he call? Because she'd asked him to. Because he needed to hear her voice. He almost picked the phone back up, to call her back and just give in to her now. It was a struggle not to do it. He was successful, but it just made him feel worse. He was avoiding the inevitable, and he didn't know why. He sure wasn't getting anywhere on his own. Maybe he did need her to work this out. He drifted off before he came to any resolution, and his night was plagued with dreams that unsettled him. It was a very bad night.
-------------------------------------------------
Eames entered her apartment after work the next evening, pulling out the printout she'd had tucked in her jacket pocket all day. She'd found him. It hadn't taken any great effort. All she had to do was pull his credit card activity. Now what was she going to do with it? She honestly had no idea what he would do if she showed up. He would probably be furious, and she had promised him she wouldn't come after him. Well, before she made any decision about that, she had to find out what had sent him over the edge. And since he wouldn't talk to her, the only thing left to her was to call Annie.
Finding her number again, she dialed. "Hello?"
"Hi, Annie. This is Alex Eames again."
"Hi. I haven't seen Bobby, if that's why you're calling. I have no plans to see him again."
"I know. That's not why I'm calling. Annie, when you broke up with him, you told him something that disturbed him deeply. I need to know what that was."
Annie knew exactly what she'd said that would have done it. "Our relationship was too crowded for me, Alex. There was always someone else on his mind, and I got tired of sharing him. I told him that he is too complicated for me. And then I told him to call me if he ever got over you."
Eames was silent, as shocked by Annie's words as Bobby had been the first time she'd said them. "If he ever got over...me?"
"Now please, Alex. I am moving on with my life. I'm done with him. He's all yours now. Take care of him."
The line went dead. She sat there holding the phone until it began to squawk because she hadn't hung it up yet. Broken from her reverie, she placed it in its receiver. All the pieces were falling into place now, and everything made perfect sense. No wonder he ran and wouldn't tell her why. Bobby liked to think he had things figured out, and when he got hit in the face with an unexpected revelation, he took it hard. Since she was the source of his unrest, he naturally wouldn't want to talk to her about it. Ok. Now she had the information she needed. What did she do with it?
