A/N: Sorry this is a bit late- but remember how I said I was a chapter ahead? Well, said chapter got deleted and rewritten three times today. Nothing felt right- until this version. At least I think this version is right. I'm still biting my nails here.
Disclaimer: Law and Order:CI is property of Dick Wolf and NBC. Neithe rof those are me.
"Alex?" He was standing in his bare feet, and I frowned thinking he shouldn't be out in the cold like that. Not that it was really cold per say, but the hall was filled with drafts. "What in the hell happened, are you all right?" His hands were running over my chilled skin now, as if to check I was whole, which was a bit stupid, because clearly if I found my way here, I was whole. He pulled me inside and closed the door behind me. The warm air snaked it's way around me and I shivered in reaction. "Is that blood?" His hand were in my hair now and he pulled me against his chest which was large and warm beneath a thin cotton shirt. "Alex- talk to me please." His voice rumbled out like a desperate plea and I finally looked up at him with contrition written across my face.
"Sorry- I'm- I'm fine." Fine. If fine meant I didn't want to sleep for fear I would see him dying all over again, then of course I was fine. "There was- Deates was stabbed and there was a junkie, an ally- and the lights." I wasn't making sense, and I knew that, but I had told the story- to Dick, to Mike- and I was tired telling it. Bobby didn't seem to mind though, he just nodded, pulling me along the worn wooden floors of his apartment. His hand was large and warm and wrapped around mine as he pulled me into the tiled bathroom. "Why am I in here?" I mumbled, looking up at him as he eased Dick's coat off of my stiff shoulders.
"Because you're freezing, and there's blood on you. You need a bath." Bobby's voice was soft and his hands hesitated for a moment at the hem of the cotton hospital shirt I had on. I put my hands over his, nodding and he pulled it up over my head. He stared for a moment before turning and running water into the tub.
"Hot- I like it really hot." I muttered, pulling my stiff jeans down over my hips and standing there in my sock feet. He nodded, turning and pulling me closer. He didn't say anything, but held me, his skin heating mine until the tub was filled. Then he averted his eyes while I finished stripping and sank into the almost scalding heat of the the tub. The warmth seeping into my bones, easing the ache and tightness that was there. Bobby didn't leave though, he knelled by my side on the tiled floor. His hands ran over my hair, and my neck and shoulders as he frowned, watching me sink more deeply into the bath.
"Do you- Alex, do you want me to help you?" I didn't look at him, but I nodded and he stood for a moment searching under the cupboard until he came back with a plastic cup. It reminded me of the one my Mom had used when we were kids to wash our hair. She would tell us to look up- look way up – and she would pour the water over our heads and I would giggled as it tickled it's way through my long hair. I blinked slowly, realizing that Bobby was doing much the same thing, and suddenly I felt angry- at him, or at myself - I wasn't sure. I was stronger than this. I was an Eames and I could do this. My hands reached up and took the cup from his.
"I'll- I'll finish Bobby. I'll be fine." His breath tickled my cheek as he sighed softly.
"Are you sure." I nodded, one swift jerk of my head and he seemed to get the message, because he held up his hands and backed away from me. "I'll go make coffee- did you eat? Do you want something to eat?" His tone was concerned and I almost smiled, but couldn't quite seem to being it to the surface for him.
"Sure." my voice was a tiny whisper in the large room and he nodded before twisting the knob easily and exiting the room. Once the door clicked into place I felt the tension drain from me, and I sat in the water, watching as it swirled around my legs, creating tiny bubbles. There was still blood underneath my nails and as I watched it seeped out into the water, a faint pink line twirling out. Osmosis. I grabbed soap from above me and started scrubbing roughly, rubbing it against my skin in a lather as my nails scraped across the pink flesh in an effort to cleanse myself. I took comfort from the fact that it smelled like Bobby- and I was literally wrapping myself in his scent. Next I dumped water over my head, washing my hair once and then twice, and then a third time. Bobby only had shampoo but it didn't bother me- I rarely used condition- it weighed down my hair too much, causing the natural straightness to hang limp instead of full. Finally I yanked the plug out, standing and shivering as the cool air hit my skin. Wrapping a towel around myself- it must have been a bath sheet Bobby brought in, it was huge- I stood in the misty air, shivering as water dripped from my hair, trickling down between my shoulder blades. The door swung open and Bobby appeared framed by the doorway, filling it as he held out a shirt. It was button up and flannel, the fabric soft and worn in my hands as I reached out and grasped it.
"It's all I have- I mean nothing would really fit you and-" His voice was a stammer and I nodded slowly. "I made- hot chocolate instead of coffee- you may want to sleep- oh and there's cinnamon toast-" I looked up, slightly startled. It was my comfort food, what my mother made me when I was sick- how had he known? He must have read my look easily because he shrugged. "Liz mentioned it- one of the stories.." He waved his hands in front of him, and his eyes scanned me from head to toe once, as if looking for damage. He nodded, seemingly satisfied before he exited the room once again, leaving me with the slowly dissipating humidity and a worn flannel shirt clutched to my chest.
A few moments later I emerged from the room, to see him hovering around the door in the hall. The shirt went past my knees and I had to roll the sleeves up no less than five times just to get my hands through. My clothes still lay in a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor, I hadn't really wanted to touch any of them. When I turned to the living room, Bobby took my hand in his and pulled me in the other direction toward his bedroom. He had me sitting in bed, wrapped in warm blankets that smelled like him before I knew what was happening. There was toast on the bedside table, and he sat himself on the edge of the bed, watching me.
"He'll be okay." I whispered, more to myself than him, but feeling the need to explain to him- to make him understand what I was doing- and why I was doing it. "Deates- he was stabbed four times, but he'll be fine. Mike's with him at the hospital. Dick drove me home- he said where to? And I gave your address instead of mine – I don't know why." My voice trailed off and I frowned.
"It doesn't matter why." His hands covered one of mine, cradling it gently in his two hands, and pressing his palm to mine in an effort to reassure me. I blinked up at him and smiled slightly. "It wasn't even Deates- I mean, I was terrified that he was going to die, and I was with him- his blood was all over me, but that's not why I'm here. He'll be fine. But the junkie- what on earth possessed him to attack Deates? He was strung out and I saw that- I should have warned him before he left to get the coffee- but I didn't. He wouldn't stop coming at me in that ally- it was dark and he just wouldn't stop- wouldn't listen. And then – it was so fast. One shot and he fell. He fell Bobby- and it was so fast."
Understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes and he shifted up on the bed, pulling me into his lap like a small child, his arms going around me as he whispered things that made little sense into my ear. His breath was hot on my skin and his embrace was warm, so I sank into it gratefully. "Alex- listen to me. It was what you had to do. If you hadn't of shot him- he would have hurt you. He would have and you have to know that. It wasn't-"
My hand reached up for the small silver cross that I hadn't taken off before getting into the tub. I clutched it, closing my eyes and praying for a moment. For forgiveness, for the man's soul I had taken tonight, for Deates. And Bobby just held me, stirring feelings in me as my skin connected with his and my breathing slowed down for what seemed like the first time that night. "It was so fast." His hands ran up and down my back, and I could feel the heat of them through the fabric of his shirt. I took a deep breath, smelling him everywhere, but mostly the warmth of his skin beneath me and my hands inched up around his neck, touching him softly, as if to reassure myself that yes- he was there and I was here, and we were together. And at some point the touch morphed from reassurance to need, and from need to want. I shifted in his lap, bringing my head up and his head down as I pressed my lips against his hot skin, feeling the rough beard there, but not caring. His hands stilled and he tensed in my arms, but I stoked one hand down his back , almost soothing him in return as my mouth traveled across the skin of his jaw drifting down towards his neck. A need had filled me, and he fought the response.
"Alex-" His voice was a warning and a prayer all wrapped into one, and I shook my head, pulling back and looking into his eyes.
"I need you. Please. I just need you right now-"
"You don't want it this way Alex. Not now-"
"Yes I do." My voice was a fierce whisper in the dim light of the room. "I want you Bobby. I want you to touch me, and I want to feel you against me- inside me, I want to feel you all over me. Please. Please. Just let me- just-" His mouth cut off my pleas, and I arched up against him in response, pressing my breasts against his chest and winding my arms around his neck as I rose above him. Warmth spread through my body- inching it's way down and I moaned in response to it, to the feel of him everywhere. My hands tugged at his shirt, my skin aching for contact with his. His hand reached for the buttons on mine, but I simply slid it over my head and off my body. He blinked for a moment, as if dazed by the site of me sitting in his lap naked, but soon his hands were tracing the contours of my body, memorizing and worshiping it, and my mouth fused with his as we fell and sank into the darkness and each other.
My mother used to tell me when I was small, that life happened in moments. Sometimes the moments were defining, and sometimes the moments were subtle, but sometimes you recognized a moment as it was happening, knowing it would be something great. She always talked like this when she told the story of loving Dad. She had recognized the moment when she fell. I swallowed heavily, recalling all of this as I listened to his breathing pattern in the dark- listened to his heart under my ear. I eased my body away as slowly as I could, desperate not to wake him. Glancing at the clock as I padded out of the room I saw that it was nearing four am.
I wrapped the worn fabric of his shirt around me as I picked up his phone, dialing with nervous trepidation. It rang four times before she answered, her voice mumbling from the sleep, only to become quickly aware as she heard my whispered greeting. I found my mother intolerable at times, an annoyance, a force to be reckoned with and avoided at times. But when it all came down to it, she was the first one I called. There in his shirt, in his kitchen, in the middle of the night. I called my mother.
"Lexie are you all right? What's going on?" I could hear the concern in her whisper as she took the phone downstairs and I laughed slightly, not really sure anymore why I called.
"I'm – not hurt Mom. I just- needed to talk." I finished listlessly, but she didn't sigh or judge. She just said that was fine and waited for me to talk. I could hear the noise of her pouring water as she listened to my quiet breathing, and although it should have been a tense silence, one filled with pressure and expectation, somehow it wasn't at all. "Do you remember the first time you told me about meeting Dad? And the moments?" I finally managed to force out, my voice a strangled whisper.
"Of course honey. I tell it the same every time. Why?" For once, her voice wasn't pushing, wasn't begging for more details, wasn't trying to express anything other than concern for me.
"I- I had a lot of moments today." I laughed but it was a hollow sound that didn't seem to convey the emotion behind it. "I feel- wrong Mom. Like I know how I feel but I shouldn't feel that way."
"Tell me the moments Lexie." I heard her sit down, and I mirrored her action, sliding down the wooden cupboards until I hit cold tile floor. I folded my legs under me and held the phone to my ear, cradling it against my head.
"I squeezed the trigger of my gun today. I felt it all the way to my bones, and it was the first time it felt like that. The bullet- it killed someone. He wasn't innocent- but I feel like- I feel-"
"Responsible?" Her voice was soft and she sighed. "Every time your father shot someone in the line of duty Lexie, he would come home all quiet. He would sit in his armchair and just- watch you kids play for a while. Never saying anything but just watching. He wouldn't drink those nights- it was how I always knew. I can't tell you how to deal with it Lexie. You dad, he gets quiet- Sean- he gets angry. I had foolishly hoped I wouldn't have to see how you deal with it."
"I got numb. And scared. And I could see it. Which leads me to my next moment. Mom- what did you moment with Dad feel like? Did you just know? That he was it for you or did you-"
"Lexie." Her voice stopped my own and I bit my lip, hugging my knees to my chest and holding my breath waiting for her answer. "I had known your father as a friend, but this one day- we were taking a walk, and he bumped into me. And I looked into his eyes and just.. knew. I felt like the world faded a bit and I felt safe and this- this still moment where everything clicked. Like it was bigger than just him and I- it was something right locking into place. Does that make any sense?" I nodded though she couldn't see me, and hugged my legs closer. She paused for a moment and silence fell, both of us reluctant to break it.
"Who is he, Lexie? The truth now, hm?" Her voice was soft and I sniffed slightly.
"He's- he's my moment. Mom- I'm scared. It's too soon- I'm not ready-"
"Soon and ready are relative terms Alexandra. For some people three years is too soon, for some it only takes days or minutes. As for not being ready, I really don't think it would happen if you weren't ready." I frowned in the dark, my brows drawing together with a slight eye roll. My mother was a huge believer in God's plan, and all of us playing our parts in it. It had annoyed me as a kid, but as an adult who often saw terrible things, I found myself taking comfort from the simple belief. Fate. Meant to be. Part of a plan, whatever you called it, it meant you could draw comfort from the fact that some things were truly out of your hands.
"I'm still scared." I whispered in response and she laughed on her end.
"Of course you are dear. It's a scary thing. Do you want to- are you home?" I smile even though no one can see me. And there it is- my mother. Even in the middle of a potentially life changing conversation she finds a backhanded way to question my activities.
"No." I answer dryly and she sighs, muttering about growing up too soon. "I'm- I don't want to screw this up."
"I won't lie and say you can't Lexie. Clearly I can't say much- I don't know him, you do. But I will tell you this. Relationships are difficult. They're exhausting and draining and sometimes you wonder why you do it. But nothing worth having ever comes easy, Lexie. But as difficult as it gets, those times when you want to give in, and give up. Remember this- remember that moment Lexie. Hold it in your heart and remember why you are fighting. Why you are working so hard. And along the way, more moments will be added to the stockpile. Moments of pure happiness, joy. That's why you don't give up- even after the screw ups."
I sat for a moment, absorbing her words thoughtfully, wondering how once again my mother seemed to know what to say without actually knowing what we're talking about . I could still hear his heartbeat echoing around me, and I closed my eyes, listening to it. Taking a deep breath I opened my eyes, smiling fully for the first time that night.
"Thanks Mom. I love you." She responded in kind, and I hung the phone up slowly. The sense of impending doom seemed to have left for the moment, and I found my hands once again resting against my necklace. Maybe it was someone's plan. Maybe I needed him, or he'd need me. I didn't really know, but I really wanted to find out. A noise in the doorway made me tense and look up started, relaxing when I saw his huge frame hovering there. He walked in, sliding down on to the floor next to me.
I didn't speak, and he didn't seem to mind. I just leaned into his arms, and wrapped my own around his waist. His breath stirred strands of my hair and his breathing provided a steady beat for mine to follow. I didn't ask him if I woke him, he didn't ask me if I slept. Both questions we already knew the answers to. The silence wrapped around us, warming me like a blanket, and I could only lay my head on his shoulder, listening as he breathed. And in a brief flash, the moment I had ran from in the bedroom was back with me, living and breathing alongside us. I felt safe, and felt an incredible urge to lay his head down in my lap, to run my fingers through his hair, to care for him. I wanted that responsibility, that privilege. I wanted that life- and the sheer intensity of it all terrified me.
His hand moved over my back, tangling in my hair. His fingers ran up and through the strands, creating knots in an almost painful way but I didn't speak, or verbalize it in any way. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, staring off to the opposite wall, and my thoughts crystallized in a moment of clarity. He was alone- he had never mentioned family, he had no personal photos around his apartment, other than a small service photo tucked away on a bookshelf. No childhood pictures, no current ones. My place was filled with pictures, candids and posed, laughter and family and love. Bobby's place had none of that. He was alone. And I realized what my mother had spoken about applied more than she knew. He wouldn't be easy to be with, he wouldn't be open, or even allow cracks. He was closed off- it was why he had said he avoided commitment. But I also knew, that he could have family, he could have that happiness in his life. I could do that for him- give that to him.
I leaned back, staring at his profile in the dark. Leaning forward I pressed my forehead to his cheekbone, inhaling softly. Placing my hand in his, I stood slowly, causing his other hand to fal from my hair and forcing him to stand with me. We stood silently, staring at each other, my hand still in his, palm to palm. I smiled slightly, and he stepped forward, bringin his body closer to mine. I could feel myself lean toward him, as if my skin were drawn to his. And even now, after I had expended the want through touches and sighs, heated breath and tender kisses, even after all that, I wanted him again. My eyes met his, and I nodded, worrying my lip between my teeth. He pulled me closer still, tuggging on our joined hands like a leash. I walked into his personal space, my chin up and a gleam in my eye. Pushing him forward, I stalked him out into the hall, and back to the bedroom. Neither of us would be alone anymore.