Flailing

Disclaimer: Dick's, not mine. I can't have nice things.

Alex stood next to Capt. Ross as Bobby again stormed his way out of the eleventh floor, tossing his portfolio on his desk on his way out. Well, at least he hadn't trashed it again, Ross thought to himself. He turned to Alex, who stared after her partner.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ross asked his detective, worried about her as well. This interrogation had indeed led to the confession they wanted, needed, but it did not go as so many other interrogations had. Alex broke away, Bobby trying to stop her, but she didn't take a backseat to him this time. In Ross's mind, he was glad; to him it seemed they got their end result much quicker. But what did it cost his detectives in the long run?

"It's his mom," Alex responded wearily. She knew Bobby was upset about having to leave, but she had to leave too. It was not solely Bobby's Thanksgiving that was ruined. The instant she thought this, she felt guilty. Nobody's dying of cancer in your family, Alex, a taunting little voice whispered in her head. "I'll check up on him later. Let me get this paperwork done. I don't think he's coming back anytime soon." Alex made her way to her desk, leaving Ross still outside of the interrogation room. He nodded his response, although she didn't see it. He too made his way back to his office.

Bobby returned to his apartment later that night exhausted. Exhausted didn't even seem like the word. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck. He had gotten back to Carmel Ridge and back to his mother. He listened to her ramblings, threats of walking out, threats against him and his brother. He sat at the end of her bed and listened. She calmed down, told him he was glad he was back, finally. He smiled at the little barb thrown in there. He told her about the case, not that she really was listening; reaming him a new one as well as the chemo had run her down. She told him to go home; she was going to sleep now. He stayed a little longer, watching her, making sure she was okay. On the drive home, everything plowed into him all at once – the case, his mom, his fight with Eames. Eames. He groaned at the thought of her angry, hurt face. He poured a glass of whiskey, setting it down on the coffee table. He went into his room and changed into some sweatpants and a clean t-shirt before going back into the living room and settling in on the couch, the whiskey warming him. He turned on the TV and promptly dozed off.

Alex turned the key he had given her and walked into his apartment. She saw the whiskey bottle out on the kitchen cupboard. She rolled her eyes and set about putting it away before she stopped herself. Why am I doing this? She put the bottle back down on the counter and made her way to the living room. She found him curled up, his neck at an unnatural angle. That can't be comfortable, the snide little voice in her head remarked. She shook him, gently at first. He mumbled something but did not wake up. She shook him harder and harder until he finally sat straight up, looking around in a panic. She sat down on the coffee table. His eyes focused on hers; they were angry.

"What are you doing here?" Bobby asked, now in no mood at all to talk to her. She comes into my apartment and wakes me up in the middle of the night and she has the nerve to be mad? Bobby shook his head in annoyance. Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"I came to tell you something. But first, how is Frances? And did your brother show up?" She waited, eyes still narrowed.

"She's fine. I'm going back in the morning. And no, my brother did not show up." Bobby glared right back at her.

"I'm glad she's doing fine, and I'm sorry about your brother. He should be there, and I'm sorry you're dealing with her on your own." Alex stopped for a minute, the rage from this afternoon coming back. "Oh wait, but you're not dealing with it on your own," Alex spat. "What was that this afternoon? You want to throw little fits, you want to look like an asshole in front of the commissioner, and you want to tell off Ross? That's fine by me. Knock yourself out for all I care. But, point number one – he lost a daughter the other day. I can't believe you said that to him. You don't know him and he doesn't know you, but for Christ's sake?!" Alex stopped to gather steam for her next point. Bobby stared at her, his rage building now.

"Eames – "

"No! It's my turn now. I'm just sorry I don't have an elevator to escape to when I'm done. Point number two – did we just start working together? Have six years not just gone by? Did we not start opening up and sharing? Did you not just sit next to me while I was in a hospital bed after being kidnapped, holding my hand? Did you not drive me to the godforsaken therapy sessions afterwards? Did you not sacrifice yourself with Wisniewski to possibly save my life?" Fuck. She hadn't meant to cry. Dammit. He was giving her the look. This wasn't even getting through to him.

"Eames – "

"I'm not done yet," Alex said softly, praying her voice wasn't as shaky as she thought it was. "All this you've done for me and everything you've ever shared I've felt privileged to know. I know this case was a tough one. I know you're mom's not doing well, and I'm damn sure none of us wanted to leave our families, especially you. But how dare you, how DARE you tell me to back off? Where do you get off? Let me reciprocate once in a while and next time you want to go off and be a hero, shoulder everything on your own – remember I'm here. I'm here because that's what a partner and a friend is supposed to do. Someone is here for you and you need to let me in once in a damn while." Alex stood up and zippered her coat. "I have to go. That's all I wanted to say. You're on paid leave and you should call Ross in the morning. Good night." Alex left Bobby's apartment. She still didn't get everything out the way she'd hoped. Well, he'll get the gist of it. She started her car and drove home.

Bobby sat on the couch, tears pricking his eyes as he heard her car drive away. He rubbed his face hard. He stood up and kicked his coffee table, sending the glass of whiskey flying.

A/N – Let me know what y'all think.