After an explosion of toys, and crinkly wrapping paper the house begins to lull. Bobby finds Alex poised in a spot in front of the sink absentmindedly washing dishes. He clears his throat, but she doesn't bother to glance up.
"Your sister decided to take all of the kids back to her house for the evening."
"That wasn't necessary," she insists.
"I disagree. Madelyn asked me at least half a dozen times what was bothering you today. She's eight, it's not as if she will accept full on deception from me."
"She knows all of your tells."
"It's just the two of us here," he points out as he begins drying the dishes she piles onto the counter.
"I don't really want to talk about this now."
"When would be a good time?"
Her hands come out of the sink as she pulls the drain plug. He instinctively offers her the dish towel he's holding. Alex leans against the sink as she dries her hands. Her arms protectively fold across her chest.
"When hell freezes over."
"Everyone has a chapter they don't read out loud. I understand that. I have plenty of them. You can have whatever space that you need, but we made an agreement. You," he points, "and I, we agreed. The two of us stick to the limits of our agreement for our family. No matter what hellish nightmare is going on in the world, or in our own heads when we're here we are present for them. You are the one who made that decision."
"I'm sorry," she turns to leave.
"Whoa! I don't want an apology, Alex. I want an explanation."
She pushes past him, and makes a beeline for the stairs. He follows her into their bedroom. She disappears into the closet. When she returns she is carrying an old box of cassette tapes. He furrows his brow in confusion as she places the box on the bed. In silence she opens the box, and removes a single cassette case. She hands it to him.
"I don't understand. We don't have a cassette player."
December 25th, 1995
She returns to her decoy apartment after a particularly brutal night. She has been deep undercover since March. She chains the door, and heads into the kitchen to secure her weapon. Waves of pain prevent her from applying an ice pack to her busted throbbing face. She makes a beeline for the bathroom. Instinctively she turns on the bathtub. Her initial action is to flip on the radio sitting on the vanity to muffle the sound of her screams of agony.
Every breath is painful. She is certain multiple rips are broken. She struggles to peel her bloody clothes from her body. As the turns the water off the pain speaks to her, and screams that it is time to face the secret she's been hiding for months. She haphazardly pushes a pile of towels onto the floor from the shelf near the tub. She lowers herself into the tub of warm water, but it does nothing to mollify her pain.
She focuses on the pieces of her manicure kit that she's lined the edge of the bathtub with. A Christmas song blares on the radio as a scream belonging to a second party joins the room. She stares at the tiny newborn she has single handedly ushered in to the world in safety. Her hand secures the newborn against her chest.
"I'm so sorry," she cries.
The newborn baby girl looks up at her, and stops crying.
"I can't make any of this right for you. I promise to do my best to give you a life."
At 1 Police Plaza Bailey Garrett sits behind her desk willing her phone to ring, and allow murder to draw her from her cycle of negative thinking. Her phone lights up, but much to her dismay it is her cousin texting to wish her a Merry Christmas, and a happy birthday. She shakes her head as she glares at her lukewarm cup of tea.
"Yeah, Merry Birthmas, Bailey. Here's to another twenty five years of living a lie," she says aloud to a completely empty squad room.
He nudges Alex as he waves the cassette tape in the air.
"Did I lose you? You completely zoned out there."
"It was the song playing on the radio during one of the worst moments of my life."
"That's why you avoid this song like the plague?"
"In ninety five I went undercover shortly after Saint Patrick's day. I was undercover for eleven months. I missed my first anniversary with Joe."
"Alex that was decades ago. What does it have to do with today?"
"As a man you have never had the misfortune of going deep undercover in vice."
"No." He falls silent.
"Or reaped the consequences."
"What are you telling me?"
"How good of a detective is your partner?" She seems to shift the subject.
"Honestly, I hate to admit it, but she's probably one of the finest detectives I have ever worked with."
"She doesn't lack skill?"
He shakes his head, "She seemed to know about us."
"I am willing to bet my pension that she knows more about one of us than anyone else in the world."
"What do you mean?"
"Did you dig into her?"
"There wasn't much to dig into. Her mom was nurse, and her dad was a doctor. They were killed in a car accident when she was a teenager."
"Some of what you said is fact, and some is fiction."
"Today is her birthday," he adds, as he searches her face for clarity.
She purses her lips, and nods. She takes a step away from him, and turns towards the door.
"I know. I was there."