Author's Note: This story has a life of its own. As predicted, it's distracting me from my Nano. Oh well. I can only write what the muse gives me.
Disclaimer: Today's chapter is brought to you by the letter "F." As in "fan" and "fiction" but also as in "forgiving" and not suing. If you have a problem with the letter "F" I suggest you contact "The Special Letter's Unit."
Title: Keeping It Together
By: Marion
Chapter: 8"Please tell me this is a joke," said Alex.
"I wish. He's serving eight to ten on a massive embezzlement charge," said Mike. "He went in last year. On the upside, it's medium security. Not a violent crime."
"Great," Alex muttered darkly.
"Would you like me to arrange a meeting for you tomorrow?" asked Mike.
"Yeah, okay. That'll be good. Thanks for calling me."
"Do you think Bobby knows?" asked Mike.
"I don't think so. I mean I'd like to say I'm sure he would have told me if he knew, but I don't know," she said. "I don't think they've spoken in like fifteen years."
"I'll call you once I get you that meeting," said Mike.
"Thanks, Mike," she said.
She hung up the phone. Damn. Damn damn damn damn.
xxx
"So you knew I would agree ahead of time and you had Lewis pack me a bag," said Bobby, slipping into the room where Alex was watching Caleb sleep.
Alex looked up at him through a curtain of her hair, a small smile playing at her lips. "I didn't know," she said. "But I hoped really hard."
He sat down on the floor beside her chair. She ran a hand through his curls absently. "Are you hiding from my family?"
"No, I was just looking for you," he said. "Are you hiding from your family?"
She smiled. "No. Just watching Caleb sleep for a minute."
"He's beautiful," Bobby said softly.
"Yes he is," she murmured. "Do you want to head back to my place?"
"I'm ready when you are," he said. "But I'm not in any hurry."
"Is Captain Deakins still here?" she asked.
"No. I get the feeling he and Lewis were just here to make sure I wasn't planning to off myself," he said. "But we are under orders to go have dinner with him and Angie next week. And I'm supposed to get used to calling him Jimmy."
Alex chuckled. "That'll be the day."
"Your dad called me part of the family," Bobby said shyly.
She stroked his hair again. "You are, Bobby."
"That means a lot to me," he said.
"I'm going to go tell Mom we're going to go," said Alex. "So she can prepare to laden us with food before we leave."
Bobby chucked softly. "I'll come with you."
xxx
Bobby was awake, of that Alex was certain as she crept down the hall toward her living room. She peered around the corner and found him staring dully at an infomercial on TV, a tumbler of scotch in his hand.
"You couldn't sleep?" she asked gently.
He looked her way for a moment. A haunted expression over took his features and he resumed watching the infomercial for an exercise program called "Yoga Booty Ballet."
She watched him for several minutes before going to sit beside him on the couch. Bobby took a sip of his drink, grimacing as the liquor burned his throat. The volume on the TV was so low it was almost on mute. The clock on the mantle seemed to be ticking so loud.
"Are you all right?" Alex asked after an achingly slow moment.
Bobby was silent, staring straight ahead. She leaned around to catch his eyes. "What's wrong? Talk to me, Bobby."
He looked pained. He shifted to avoid her eyes. He moistened his lips. "Do you love me?" he asked softly.
Alex sat back, shocked. "Are you drunk?" she asked, characteristic sarcasm bubbling to the surface as a defense.
Bobby ignored the sarcasm. "No. I'm not," he said, setting the tumbler on the coffee table. "Do you love me?"
Alex wrung her hands. "Yes, she said at last, chewing on the inside of her cheek nervously. "I do. You're like one of my brothers," she finished more confidently.
Bobby suspected she wasn't being entirely truthful with her analogy, but that wasn't the point so he let it slide. "Why?"
"What do you mean 'Why?'!"
"I don't understand."
"You know more about human nature than anybody I've ever met," she said. "What do you mean you don't understand?"
"I don't understand how you could waste your love and compassion on me," he murmured.
There were tears in her eyes. "You can't waste love, Bobby. How can you say that?"
"She died and I-I feel relieved. How can you love someone who feels relief at the death of his own mother?"
Author's Note: Reviews make me happy, even if all the angst in my story depresses me. And for the record, I did not make up "Yoga Booty Ballet."