A/N: I got so many reviews last chapter- and I freaking loved them all. You all were quite divided though, and I love that something out of my imagination had the power to do that. Sorry I haven't been replying to them lately- but again, dire cold from hell which is finally getting better. So this chapter is shorter, and I know you'll want to kill me for the ned- but I needed something not quite so angsty as a break. You'll love me anyway right? Cause the next chapter will be a doozy, and probably won't be up until next week- Tuesday or so.

Disclaimer: I'm running out of ways to say not mine. Not mine.

Sometimes a few feet could feel like an immeasurable distance. Or three inches could seem like a mile. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the scarred wood as she sighed. And sometimes the distance between today and yesterday could be thousands of miles, and she had covered that distance last night. The paleness of her skin and the circles under her eyes attested to that. She hadn't slept- but lord had she woken up.

She cradled the now cold cup of coffee in her hands as she stared at the blank wall across from her. Shivering slightly she pulled her coat closer, her mind lost in memories and her own thoughts. She had been so- just so angry yesterday. It was as if a valve had broken inside of her, and everything she fought so hard to keep tamped down had burst forth, like a vitriolic eruption. Burying her head in her hands, and shifting slightly on the hard floor, she squeezed her eyes shut. Even today- in the light of day, with almost twenty four hours between then and now- she cringed at what she had did. What she had said.

When she arrived home last night- she had still been pissed beyond all recognition. So instead of trying to deal with it, she had gotten pissed at her belongings. At home there was no Joe Clemmans, there was no Bobby to bear the brunt of her toxic anger- so she had walked into her home, and felt irrationally angry at it. Her house wasn't even a person- it was a thing- but she hated it none the less. She hated the sofa she always ended up sleeping on, because she couldn't quite take sleeping alone in the dark of her own room. She hated that she needed constant light now- that the dark brought forth images and sounds from her memory. She hated the table she had stood at, checking her mail when she had been taken by surprise. She hated the doors and locks for not keeping her out in the first place. She hated everything around her, and she had proved it. By systematically throwing and or destroying everything.

When the anger ran out- as it was wont to do – she had been curled up in her car and it was four am. The sun was barely trying to lighten the inky black of night and she stared at the horizon in relief and horror. It was then she woke up. The feeling of regret that had come over her then, had almost made her crawl out of the car and throw up. She got angry, she got proactive, she got tough. Alex Eames never got upset. She never cried. She never let other people in to help. Every crisis moment in her life- despite her having a large family who all loved her – every moment was dealt with alone.

Her husband had died, and she had refused her family for the first while. She had refused to cry, and be weak- and instead she had gotten angry- beyond pissed that Michael would leave her. Rationally- she knew it wasn't his fault. She knew that- but that didn't stop the anger and the guilt from crowding into her chest and pushing out the weakness.

When she had finally given birth to her sister's baby- what should have been a joyous occasion had felt like someone taking something from her. It was irrational- again, but she had been unable to reach down and dredge up the happy feelings she should have. At that moment she had pushed them away- her family, her sister, she had even only texted Bobby- to avoid talking to him. She had known that he would hear it in her voice. And she didn't want him to see it- this angry bitter side of her that seemed to take over. She hadn't cried- she had resented her parents for doting on their grandchild instead of her. She had been jealous over the love in her sister's eyes as she held her son.

It had always been drilled into her as a child. Eames' were tough. They didn't cry, they didn't complain, they did what was necessary and they supported each other, above all. At four am in her car- this had seemed like a hollow reassurance. When she woke in the hospital after being rescued- it had seemed like nothing but empty words. She had woken alone- no family had arrived, no Captain had been there- hell even no Bobby. She had felt tiny, and broken, and utterly alone. Maybe more alone than she had felt in that basement, hanging from a hook. She had wondered then- if that would be what broke her- but she had pushed past it, pushed any doubts she had down until she could no longer feel them.

It hadn't been what had broke her. She had broke herself- by being so damn strong, so damn stubborn that she refused to ask for help. She hadn't told her family she couldn't sleep- that she was terrified of the dark now. She hadn't explained to Bobby that although she was saying she wanted to come to work- she was nowhere near ready. She hadn't told that therapist anything other than what he needed to hear to clear her for work. She had shouldered all of these things on her own- and that was no one's fault but hers. She couldn't remember how long she had sat in her car- cold and achingly tired. When she started the ignition, the sun had won it's battle against the dark, pushing it back as it's light bled across the horizon.

She had needed time- she needed a place to think that was quiet and safe- and so she went were all guilty Irish folks go. Church. By nature she wasn't a church goer- and she hadn't been since she had left home. Years of being dragged to Mass in her Sunday best had taken it's toll, and by the time she reached adulthood- she had begun to question if the faith was really hers, or just something she did every week to please her parents. Despite all her questioning of the Church though- when she walked through those heavy doors, into the warmth of it's interior- she felt something. She always did. A certain type of warmth that seemed to seep into your very soul.

She had always blamed it on the level of comfort you got from the familiar- but part of her always wondered if that was exactly it. She had stepped into the building, and a soothing feeling had come over her. She had sat in the back pew, running her hands along the worn wood, and staring around her in silent thought. She hadn't knelt- she hadn't prayed – after all some things seemed a little too far out of reach to just embrace again. But she had sat there in silence and thought. She had thought about why she had reacted that way yesterday, she had thought about why she felt so tired lately, she thought about how sorry she was for hurting the one person she loved more than anything.

She had sat there- for what seemed like hours. She had watched a priest come and go – keeping an eye on her, but apparently understanding enough to leave her alone. She contemplated what exactly her life had become suddenly. She felt like she was balancing on the edge of some great realization, but couldn't quite give up the fight to remain steady. She sat so long in thought that people began to fill the pews around her, readying themselves for morning mass. She had stayed for that too, wondering at how readily the words came back to her. When she had exited the building into the bright morning sunshine, she only knew one thing. She had to see Bobby. She needed to explain to him. Needed to make him understand if he was even willing to listen.

She had stopped at a street vendor, taking a hot cup of coffee from him before returning to her car and driving towards Bobby's apartment building. She had driven as if in a daze, and when she arrived, even she couldn't tell you exactly what route she had taken, or how many red lights she had hit.

She was in the elevator, rising up to his floor when it hit her that it was Thursday- and he would be at work. He hadn't been suspended- just her. Frowning at her own idiocy, she had walked down the hall to his door, not knocking, simply sinking to the floor in front of it. It was a little after noon now. If she left- she might not be able to convince herself to come back. So she sat on the cold floor in his hallway, her back against his door, and cradled the warm cup of coffee and thought about what she would say.

She went through a thousand different scenarios in her head. Some of them ended with him understanding and they went on as they were. Those ones left a vague sense of disquiet in their wake though. She had a hundred more where he wouldn't listen. Even more where he couldn't forgive her- but the rational side of her knew that Bobby wouldn't be like that. He wasn't unforgiving by nature- in fact at times he was too forgiving. A few scenarios, she allowed her heart to rule and their endings made her blush slightly and warmth would invade her limbs, a welcome respite from the cold aching feeling that had settled in.

None of them clearly pinpointed what she should do though, and she looked down at the now cold brown sludge in her cup as if it would inspire her. One thing she knew for sure- she could not accept an outcome that didn't include Bobby in her life in some way. The issue was to decide if she should just go for everything, the brass ring, or just settle for him there in her life. She could lose her job- but then again, she found surprisingly that she didn't care as much about that as she once did. Sure she was a cop- but she could be a cop without Bobby as a partner – if it came down to that. The problem had never been with her- it had always been the worry that he couldn't deal with being a cop without her if it became necessary. But maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit- maybe it was never her decision to begin with. It was his.

She sat up a little straighter, pushing her back against the solid door, seeking relief from the pain that had settled itself there. It was his decision. Why hadn't she given him that credit before? He didn't deserve to have his decisions made for him- he was a grown man. She had to prove that she trusted him- with everything, not just what she picked and chose. She had to tell it all – and then let him decide what to do with it. In a way it was a relief. The burden was lifted from her shoulders and they almost ached in relief. They had been carrying the weight of this decision for a while- and it was a new feeling, to put it someone else's hands.

Now that she had made a decision and come to a conclusion, she felt the impatience settle in. It was just after three now- he would be home soon. Chances were Ross would stick him with paperwork all day – she gave a short half laugh of sympathy for him, she had screwed him in more ways than one yesterday – Bobby wouldn't stay later than five with a desk full of paperwork. She let her head fall back with a thud of exhaustion against the door, wondering if he would ignore her if she fell asleep on his doorstep. Pulling her coat tighter with one hand, she knew she wouldn't fall asleep anyway- it was way too damn cold out here.

She felt a weightless sensation behind her back, and she felt a moment of shock as her support fell away from behind her. Her head landed with a dull sound against the wood floor of his hall, and hours old cold coffee spilled across her chest, the dark stain blooming against her shirt. Her vision darkened for a second- it had hurt like a son of a bitch, and when it cleared she saw his face hovering over her, his expression one of horror.

"Alex! Jesus! I didn't know you were there. Are you alright?" He slid large hands under her shoulders and lifted her awkwardly, pulling her inside at the same time, and shutting the door behind him. She held one hand to her head, and the other crushed the empty cup in it's grasp. He ran hands over her head, checking for bumps or bleeding, and she stood silently, allowing him to do it. More than that, enjoying the feel of the warmth from his skin seeping into hers, and breathing deeply so she could smell that scent that was so Bobby. When he stepped back, apparently satisfied that she wasn't about to pass out due to concussion, he stared at her for a beat, before gently prying the cup from her hand. She released it, and he tossed it into a nearby trash before turning back to her once more.

"Alex?" He frowned suddenly, as if he had just remembered the events that had lead her here to this moment. His eyes stared at her expectantly and she felt everything inside her freeze. All of her various situations, all of her plans and speeches, and none of them applied to her falling through his doorway and spilling crap all over herself.

"Bobby-"