Many kind words, and many people adding this as a favorite story. This chapter starts out dark, but gets better. I found myself wondering about the scenes we don't see-how do they deal with an emotionally devastating case in their off-hours. As promised, this installment will be a bit more fun, a bit of therapy, family. Keep those reviews coming. If you want to see it, you must review it. Okay, that doesn't rhyme, but...on with the show. I don't own them, but I am sure having fun with them.
The Best Street In Brooklyn
"So, what gave you the idea?" Alex popped the last bite of cupcake in her mouth and closed her eyes in bliss.
Bobby was still a little befuddled from her kiss, "I just thought it'd be nice to see a live little boy, instead of one on a slab." he blurted.
"Well, you're right," she said after a beat. "It was."
They worked until midnight Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The surveillance video from outside the bank revealed the probable shooter was a jogger, but it was difficult to get any sort of ID. The angle that was the best bet to capture the shooter's face was scrambled video, either as a result of a power surge, or a deliberate sabotage. The jogger appeared to be double-dressed, making a gender or age indeterminate, in shoes that altered height.
Interviews with the deceased's coworkers yielded no new information. The neighbors in their building denied seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary. Security video from the building was mostly in the public areas, with "dead zones" in the hallways and stairwells. With the number of tenants in the building, and the number of maids, nannies, and household staff, there were so many potential gaps in security. As more family members trickled into the city, they widened the circle of interrogation.
Toxicology was negative on all the victims. The crime scene netted some unidentified fingerprints and DNA, but the hits weren't in the system. They had located all but one of the maintenance staff, and eliminated them as sources of DNA or fingerprints, and they had bulletproof alibis. The remaining building employee and the family housekeeper were allegedly out of the country on vacation at the time of the murders, and not expected back for a couple weeks. The family finances were pristine.
Through it all, Bobby and Alex supported each other. They took turns making sure the other got food and fluids. While Alex would jog during her lunch break, Bobby would hit the treadmill in his apartment in the early morning. Coffee, yogurt, fruit, or skittles would appear on her desk.
Bobby was the recipient of coffee, water, nicotine gum, chips or his favorite pastrami sandwich. They'd order dinner; Chinese one night, Italian another. It was no different than they had ever done, but Captain Hannah, still new to Major Case and the "dynamic duo," took notice.
Sharon Hannah insisted that her husband at least attempt to get home for dinner once that week, "C'mon, something healthy, a little peace and quiet, maybe a massage," she told him over the phone Thursday afternoon.
He grumpily acquiesced, "I know you're right, honey. But this goddamned case..."
"...may take a while to break, Joe," she finished for him. "I don't want you to put yourself into an early grave over it."
"More worried about my detectives beating me to that," he muttered after he hung up.
In bed with Sharon that night, he let her rub his stiff shoulders. Joe had talked to all three of their children that evening, and watched their new grandson get a bath via Skype.
"Isn't Grant the cutest little ol' thing?" Sharon skillfully kneaded her husband's back.
"He sure is," Joe agreed. "Hate like hell that they live in Dallas."
"They'll be home for a bit in August, Joe. And through the wonders of cyberspace, we can see him and talk to him," she pressed a kiss onto his neck.
"Would rather hold him right now," his voice was muffled into his forearm.
"I know," Sharon sighed. "That poor family; well, both families."
"Kickin' everyone's ass," he rolled over and held his wife close.
"Bobby and his partner, um Alex?" she inquired.
"They have been killing themselves, trying to clear this case," Joe told her. "Only time I saw them even remotely take a break was when Eames' sister brought her nephew this week."
"Really?" Sharon was interested.
"Bobby told me later that Alex was a surrogate for the sister, so I guess this is the closest thing she has to one of her own," he explained.
"How old is the little boy?" she asked.
"Looked to be about seven, his name is Nathan, Nate, something like that," Joe replied.
"Same age as..." she paused.
"Yeah, same as the little boy that was killed," Joe assented.
"Heartbreak all around," she murmured, snuggling into him.
Friday night the wake was held for the Richman family. Bobby and Alex were dressed unobtrusively, hoping that they could find a person of interest among the mourners. Plus, sometimes hearing unguarded conversations was easier than at the actual funeral. They were amazed at the sheer number of people coming to pay their respects. Surely some of them were strictly gawkers, or nosy reporters, but the overall feeling was of genuine grief and loss.
Thanks to some skillful mortician esthetics, the visitation was open casket. Alex was in the back of the funeral parlor, uncomfortable with the little children seeing their aunt, uncle and cousins laid out. She flashed back to her husband's funeral, and that of Kevin Quinn. Just an elaborate way of preserving the illusion that death didn't leave a mark.
Bobby was off to the side, quietly talking with Stella Richman's parents. Her mother was fingering her rosary, wiping tears from her eyes. Her father sat, stoic. Grief made him look twenty years older.
Candles burned, the warm smell of melting wax meant to comfort. There was the thick, cloying scent of too many flowers in one space. She turned her attention to the pictures and memorabilia in the vestibule. Happy pictures, and video clips playing of the family. Family, friends, even their household help. Alex wondered again at the housekeeper. Sure, people went on vacation, but everyone had internet access. She'd been employed by the family for three or four years, why hadn't she called or emailed or...?
Alex thought of the two tiniest victims, the ones not visible in the casket. Twenty weeks. She remembered that was when she was feeling the best during her pregnancy with Nate. The nausea and fatigue were gone, and she was still working full time. She reveled in the little flutters and kicks; in fact, that was the week she found out she was carrying a boy.
She shook her head, moved to the room off to the side. Food and snacks were spread out, for those who needed sustenance. She poured a cup of over-boiled coffee and dumped sugar and creamer in to make it more palatable. God, any more of this and they could embalm her.
Bobby appeared in the doorway, "I don't think we'll find anything more here tonight."
"No, me either," Alex said wearily.
He came over and put a hand on her shoulder, "You okay? Want to go somewhere and talk?"
"I'm fine, just tired," she sighed.
"Long week," he agreed.
"And we have to do this all over again tomorrow," she lowered her voice as some of the family came into the room. "At least they're making the service private."
The funeral Saturday afternoon revealed nothing new in the way of suspects or information. As had become custom, the family hosted a meal before they departed for the cemetery. Bobby and Alex made their way from the parish hall back to the sanctuary.
As they approached the altar, they observed the priest and and the mortician in front of Stella's casket, carefully tucking two small bundles, one pink and one blue, in the crook of her lifeless arms. Alex gasped, and ran from the sanctuary, desperately seeking the nearest bathroom.
Bobby was at her heels, holding her hair as she vomited into the sink. After she finished retching, he dampened some paper towels and wiped her face. "We're done here, Alex," he whispered.
"B-but.." she stammered.
"There is nothing to be gained by staying," his face was stricken as he pulled her into his chest. "If the brass feels like there is, then they can give this to someone else."
"I know," her voice was raw, muffled.
"Give me the keys," Bobby said gently.
She handed them to him willingly, and allowed his arm around her as they walked into the sweltering afternoon.
He took the wheel of their department-issued SUV and pulled out of the parking lot. They didn't say anything to each other as he headed east on the parkway.
Alex's cell phone beeped, and she scowled at the caller ID, "Hi, sis."
"I was just calling to let you know the dinner invite still stands," Liz's voice was cheerful.
"That's sweet of you, but..." she took a steadying breath. "Been a really bad day."
Bobby looked questioningly at her.
"Dinner," she mouthed silently.
He nodded, "Let's go," he mouthed back.
She shook her head, ignoring her sister's voice. "Alex, are you still there?"
"I'm talking to Bobby," Alex said.
"He's invited, too," Liz was adamant.
Bobby snitched the phone from her hand, "Can we bring anything?"
"Just yourselves," Liz hung up.
Alex scowled at him, feeling outvoted.
"C'mon, a nice dinner with a nice normal family and no work talk," he wheedled as he headed for Far Rockaway.
They arrived to Liz and her husband Eric trying to corral a rambunctious Nate. "But I don't wanna take a bath," the little boy howled.
Eric groaned in mock dismay, "Then you won't get to stay up and have dinner with Aunt Alex and Uncle Bobby."
"Noooo!" Nate wailed.
"Oh, don't do that to the poor kid," Alex scolded, grabbing the sweaty, grubby ball of energy. "We don't mind if he's a little stinky."
"I'm not stinky!" Nate protested.
"We've been to the splash pad all afternoon and someone is very t-i-r-e-d," Liz explained.
"I'm not t-i-r-e-d!" the little boy complained, then promptly yawned.
"Tell you what, Nate," Bobby scooped him from Alex's arms, "If you get scrubbed up, I'll show you how another magic trick."
"Really?" he wriggled free and took off for the upstairs bathroom. "C'mon, I'll show you these neat colors that turn into soap!"
"Do you mind?" Alex asked Liz and Eric.
"Hell, no," Eric laughed. "Have fun."
Alex stripped off her blazer and kicked off her shoes, while Bobby slipped off his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves. "Watch out for him, he loves to throw water," she warned as they entered the bathroom.
For the next half hour, they enjoyed watching Nate splash and giggle, admiring the lovely artwork he made on the shower wall with the soap crayons. They dodged some of his more enthusiastic attempts to drown them in soapy water. While Alex dried Nate off with a fluffy towel, and dressed him in pajamas, Bobby entertained him with some sleight of hand tricks.
The sun slid down in the sky as they headed downstairs.
Liz stood at the stove, stirring a luscious smelling red sauce. "It's going to be a little bit before it's ready," she apologized and waved a hand towards the patio, "There's a pitcher of Bellini and antipasti out back."
"Aren't we stylin'?" Eric, fresh from his own shower, tousled his wife's hair.
"Pay him no mind, his idea of fun is beer and pork rinds," Liz laughed.
"Hey, I appreciate a great meal," Eric told Bobby and Alex. "And I have to say, this cooking class stuff she's doing...I need to hit the gym twice as hard."
Nate turned up his nose, "Yeah, but you said the cheese made the house stinky, Daddy."
"Sounds like there's a story there," Bobby's eyes twinkled.
"Come out back and we'll talk," Eric clamped a hand on his shoulder.
Eric, Bobby and Nate headed to the yard, while Alex offered to help her sister, "Let me do something."
"Go pour us some of those drinks, and then you can cook the pasta," Liz requested.
Alex returned with the cocktails, lingering a moment to watch her partner, her brother-in-law, and her nephew in the backyard. Eric was showing off his latest landscaping project, and Nate was perched on Bobby's shoulders. The events of earlier in the day faded a little from her consciousness.
"Thanks for inviting us, sissy," Alex was stirring the pasta into boiling water.
"Anytime," Liz took a taste of the sauce and wrinkled her nose. "Needs a little more basil." She tossed the herb into the pot, stirred it, and replaced the lid. "So, how's it going?"
Alex took a large gulp of her drink, silent. Oh, just lovely, we watched an entire family go into the ground for no good reason today. Two little babies who didn't get to even draw breath put in their dead mother's arms, she thought. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to slam the door on that image.
Liz caught the expression on her sister's face, and came over to hug her, "Sorry, that had to be the most idiotic question of the decade."
"Just about," Alex sniffed. "I-uh-really don't want to talk about it."
"Can't imagine how you do it, every day, Lex," her sister sighed.
They were interrupted by the guys coming back in. "Hey if you girls don't quit gabbing, we'll have the food eaten up." Eric teased.
"All right, all right," Liz laughed, then cast a stern glance at Bobby. "You didn't let my kid get dirty, did you?"
"Oh, he wasn't supposed to roll in the sandbox? Damn!" Bobby grinned.
"That's a bad word, Bobby," Nate said disapprovingly.
"He's heard worse, that's for sure," Eric laughed.
"Mom, do I have to eat the stinky food out there?" the little boy whined.
"I'm mortally wounded, son," Liz said in mock dismay. "What would you rather have?"
"S'mores," Nate gave his most winning smile.
"How about my best peanut butter and banana sandwich, buddy?" Eric scooped his son to a seat on the counter.
"With chocolate chips?" he asked hopefully.
"Just don't tell your mom," Eric said in a stage whisper.
"I am outnumbered," Liz sighed dramatically. While her husband fixed Nate's favorite sandwich, she shooed her sister and partner out back, "I'm just going to throw this together, we'll be out in a sec."
Bobby and Alex took a seat in the wicker porch swing, sinking gratefully into the cushions, and refilling their glasses from the frosty glass pitcher.
"Mmm, tastes like summer," she savored the peachy cocktail.
"You'd better eat a little something," he smiled, smearing ricotta on baguette slice, and drizzling it with honey. "That" he indicated the drink, "Really packs a wallop on an empty stomach."
She gave him a lopsided grin, "Some guys wouldn't mind a tipsy dinner date."
"Date? Oh, no, this is not considered a date," he lifted the bread to her mouth. "this is dinner with family. When we go on a date...you'll know it."
"Really?" she let out a delighted giggle. "When...we go on a date, not if."
"Eat, Alex," he insisted.
"Make me," her eyes twinkled.
"If that's what you want," he put the appetizer to her lips.
Alex took a bite, then snaked out her tongue to slurp a drop of honey from his fingertip.
"We're..uh, in your sister's backyard," he murmured. God, she made eating a piece of bread sexy.
"I know," she smirked, reaching for an olive.
They startled as the patio door slid open, and the McClain family emerged.
Busted, Eric thought, watching his sister in law and her partner. Bobby's arm was around Alex and their faces were both flushed.
Nate jumped onto Alex's lap, "Are you eating the stinky cheese?"
"It's not stinky, it's very good," she laughed.
"Why, thank you, I made it myself," Liz said proudly.
"You made homemade ricotta?" Bobby was incredulous as he ate some with olive oil and basil on bread. "I haven't had the likes of this...my grandmother used to make it all the time." He took another bite, "You nailed it, Liz."
"My girlfriends and I are doing a cooking course while our kids are at day camp," Liz explained modestly.
Eric gingerly scooped some onto an artichoke heart, "You got it right this time, sweetheart."
"After five tries, I should hope so," she parked herself next to him on the loveseat and fixed a small plate.
"It was soooo stinky," Nate wrinkled his nose.
"Try some," Bobby tried to convince the little boy.
"Nuh-uh," Nate rubbed at his eyes.
The adults exchanged amused glances. The young prince was about to run out of steam.
Within ten minutes, he was asleep, wedged between Bobby and Alex on the swing.
Eric made to pick up his sleeping son, and Liz shook her head, "Honey, let them put him down while we put dinner on."
Alex lifted the slumbering child to her shoulder, Bobby following in her wake.
"He sleeps on the top bunk," she whispered.
Bobby pulled the comforter and sheet back, plumped up the pillow. He then took the child from her and laid him down carefully. Alex pulled up his covers and turned on his nightlight.
They stood side by side, Alex stroking Nate's hair gently, "He's growing so fast," she whispered.
"Seems like a minute ago he was a baby," Bobby tucked the covers more securely around him.
Alex's hand faltered, and she began to shake.
"Come on, let's let him sleep," he steered her into the hallway and closed the door. They reached the bottom of the stairs before her knees buckled.
Bobby carried her into the darkened living room, taking a seat on the couch.
"'s' all right," he tucked her head into his shoulder as she sobbed into his chest.
"It-I was just so shocked," her words were raw. "And I remembered how-how I felt when I saw her-and she was dead..." The dam of emotion broke and she wept and wept. "Those... poor...babies," she groaned.
"I know," he muttered brokenly. "It's too much, some days."
"I hope that he didn't wake back up," Liz put the last dish on the table.
Eric popped the cork on the wine, "I thought I heard them come downstairs, I'll check."
As he walked past the living room, he was shocked at what he saw. The partners were clinging to each other, sobbing. He returned to the kitchen and shook his head, "Liz, they're..."
"What?" she was puzzled at his expression.
"Maybe better leave them alone," Eric was sheepish, as if he'd trespassed on an intimate moment.
"Making out in my house?" Liz hissed.
"No, no," Eric came over to her. "They're...crying."
"Jesus," she snuggled in her husband's arms. "Sweetheart, we are sooo lucky."
"I know," he kissed her tenderly. Eric and Liz took their plates to the patio, giving Alex and Bobby some privacy.
It was an hour before they finally emerged from the living room, and sought out their hosts. "We're really sorry, guys," Alex sniffled. Her makeup was gone, save for a few streaks of mascara at the corners of her eyes. Bobby's eyes were red and puffy, he seemed older even in that short space of time..
Liz got to her feet and hugged her sister, "Don't you dare apologize!" she exclaimed softly. "We...we just want you to be okay...to help. That's what families are for." She looked at Bobby, "And, yes, you're family, too."
Eric regarded Bobby and Alex with a new respect, "I can't even pretend to imagine how you do what you do every day."
Bobby was solemn, "We do it because someone has to."
Alex managed a grim laugh, "Kinda crass, but do you have a little dinner to spare?"
"Sit yourselves down, McClain's restaurant is open for business," Eric said with a flourish.
Between the food and a great quantity of wine, Saturday night turned into Sunday morning. Through dinner, dessert, and beyond, the conversation was light. Bobby even spoke about his early childhood, the memories he had of his maternal grandparents, and times spent with them. Alex was fascinated, and took in every word. So much of his life had been plagued by his dysfunctional family, it was good to know that there were at least some happy memories.
As the hour crawled towards two, they know the evening had to end. Considering how intoxicated they were, driving was out of the question.
"Bobby, we have a very nice guest room and bath," Liz offered.
"That's kind of you, but I-uh, I'd be fine on your couch," he stammered. "Let Alex have the guest bed."
"Are you kiddin'? Alex grinned sleepily. "I'll just crawl into Nate's bottom bunk, I do it all the time."
"I have that, um, appointment in the morning," Bobby reminded her.
"We can see that she gets home," Eric assured them.
Bobby undressed in the guest room, and made sure his phone alarm was set for nine AM. He crawled under fresh, line-dried sheets, and tried to settle down. This is what it's like, he thought as his eyes closed. This is what it's like to have a home, a family. People to love and care for each other. No drama or strife.
Alex. He punched at his pillow, remembering how she had crumbled earlier. So much of the face she showed the world every day was stoic, sarcastic, snarky. But underneath...beat the heart of a tender, caring woman. He had seen a great deal more of the inner Alex Eames the past few months, and sometimes that scared him. One of the things his sessions with Dr Gyson forced to him to admit, was that this small, strong, fierce woman was vital to his existence. Did he love her? Damn straight. And not like a sister. Exhaustion finally won out, and he drifted off to sleep.
Down the hall, Alex quietly got into the bottom bunk, not wanting to wake Nate. Tired as she was, her mind wouldn't calm. When had she gotten a real night's sleep? One not plagued by nightmares and images of dead children? Had it really just been a week? She dragged an arm across her face. Her thoughts turned to the little boy sleeping in the bunk above her. He'd grown under her heart for the better part of a year. When she and Bobby were tucking Nate in earlier, all those memories came flooding back. Bobby had treated her with the utmost care, tenderness. She remembered how it felt to hear his heart beating, his arms protecting her, comforting her. He had cried, too. She was afraid he wouldn't go to therapy in the morning, but the fact that he made a point of mentioning it...She thought about Stella Richman. Tears rolled down her cheeks, maybe Bobby wasn't the only one in their partnership who needed therapy. Spent, she finally let her eyes close.
Liz and Eric were in the kitchen, making omelets for breakfast. Coffee was brewing, the island was set with five plates.
Bobby, unshaven but freshly showered, stopped to thank them, "Good morning."
Eric poured him a cup of coffee, "You look like you could use this."
"Thanks," he took a grateful swallow.
"Did you need sugar or cream?" Liz pushed both over to him.
"No, that'd be your sister," he laughed. "Is she...?"
"She's still asleep," Eric said, adding, "So is Nate, you guys wore him out."
"I-uh-appreciate what you did for us yesterday," Bobby finished his coffee. "It was...what we needed..." He flashed a grin. "Owe you dinner."
"We were glad to have you," Eric shook his hand. "Don't be a stranger."
Bobby touched Liz's shoulder, and said, "I gotta go, but tell Alex...I'll call her later."
Dr Gyson noticed how subdued her patient was almost immediately, "Tell me about your week."
"You follow the news?" Bobby was restless, pacing the office.
"Yes," she answered. He was unshaven, hair a bit rumpled. Maybe hung over?
"So then you know," he poured a glass of water, gulped it down. "Pisser of a case."
"You need to sit," she directed him.
He did, but fidgeted, picking up and putting down his glass, a paperweight, a coaster.
"Do you have children?" he asked after a long silence.
She was taken aback, "Um, yes, I do."
"Must be hard to hear some of the stuff you do," Bobby ruminated.
"It can be difficult," the doctor was cautious. "But I'm not sure..."
"This...family. Without getting into specifics, they were...it's one of the worst cases. My partner...I can't imagine what it's like for a woman who's had a child, to see what we saw..." his eyes were haunted.
Dr Gyson was confused, "Your partner is a widow, I didn't know she had children."
"She, uh, was a surrogate for her sister and brother-in-law," he explained.
"How old is the child?" she asked.
"Nate be eight November 15th," he answered. "Same age as one of our victims."
"Hit her pretty hard," the doctor commented. "And you. Do you have a relationship with her so-, with her nephew?"
He looked at her in puzzlement, "Alex was pregnant during our partnership, and we're friends. Liz and Eric...they've always been generous in letting her see him. But why does that matter?"
"I just find it interesting that you know this child's birthday," Gyson commented.
Bobby scowled, "Is that relevant?"
"You're defensive, and I'm guessing angry right now," she countered.
"Damn right, a whole family slaughtered, no real leads so far, and the media thinks it's a goddamned media event," Bobby raged.
"You brought up your partner," Dr Guyson redirected him.
"I'm worried about her, okay?" he admitted.
"Your feelings for her run deep," she hammered.
"Are we back to that?" Bobby groaned. "Look, I am entitled to be concerned for her, and she for me. We're partners. It's the code of the PD."
"Then what would you like to talk about?" the doctor sighed.
"Years ago, my maternal grandfather had this little club, had a pool, golf course...It was a nice place. Well, for a kid of four or five, it seemed magical. And we'd have these big Sunday night suppers, lots of food, aunts and uncles, cousins." Bobby smiled. "My parents...they...they were, it-it-it was what passed for normal, at that time. My Nonna Lia, aw, she was great. She made the best antipasti trays, and homemade ricotta."
"Sounds nice," the therapist said.
"Memories are funny," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, all the lying and cheating, alcohol, gambling, abuse, emotional illness...just trying to survive. Those are my most vivid memories. Then I have this food, and it brings me back to what was a happy time in my life."
"Were you in a particular restaurant or place that reminded you...?" Gyson wondered.
"It was at my partner's sister's house, okay? We had dinner with her family, and Liz made homemade ricotta and had an antipasti tray. She's been talking some cooking class, and wanted to fix us a meal," Bobby got up to pace again, "It...brought me back to the normal life thing."
"Did it make you...did you see yourself in that situation?" she probed.
He shook his head vehemently, "I wasn't thinking that, I was thinking that for the first time this week we spent time with a nice, kind, normal family. There were no dead bodies, not talk of suspects or crime scenes. We didn't get a call out. There was good conversation, time to play with a thoroughly alive child, tuck him into bed, and then have dinner and a few drinks."
"You enjoyed your evening," she stated.
"Yeah, and I'd like more of it," he sat back down. "Once we break this goddamned case."
"I know you must be under tremendous pressure to get justice for this family, Dr Gyson began. "But I'm wondering if you could find a way this week to do some of those 'normal life' things. You know, a drink with your high school buddy, or a take a lunch break with your partner in a park, go see a little league game."
Bobby laughed, "Maybe you could send a memo to the brass, saying, "please excuse Detective Goren from crime solving so he can go on a picnic with his partner."
"Robert Goren needs frequent breaks to maintain his emotional health and keep him an effective law enforcement officer," she countered, as she escorted him to the door.
"Same time next Sunday?" he asked. "Oh, that's right, holiday weekend."
"Going out of town with my family," she smiled. "In two weeks, then?"
He nodded, and said, "I'll try to remember about the normal life thing."
Alex woke with a killer headache, and Nate bouncing on bed above her, "Are you awake yet, Aunt Alex?" he shouted.
"No, I'm dead," she groaned, afraid to open her eyes wider than slits.
"Dead people don't talk," he hung his head over the edge of the bed. "You told me that."
"Of course I did," she sighed. "Nate, my head really hurts, so could you...be a little quieter?"
His mouth formed a silent O. "All right," he clattered down the ladder and ran into the hall, he'd barely cleared the door, before yelling, "Hey, Mom, Aunt Alex has a headache! Do you have any Advil?"
She pulled the pillow over her head, and willed her stomach to behave.
In a few minutes, Liz was waving a cup of coffee under her nose, singsonging, "You can have this if you sit up and open your peepers, sissy."
"Why didn't I kill you when I had the chance?" Alex mumbled.
"Now, now! Remember when you'd sneak in after a few brewskis with Nick, and then have to get up early. And how your dear baby sister had coffee with lots of sugar all ready for you so you wouldn't get busted?" Liz said.
Alex sat up gingerly, holding her hand out for the life-giving brown elixir, "Oh, thanks."
She took a large drink, along with the proffered ibuprofen.
"Bobby said to tell you he'll call you later," Liz sipped on her own cup of joe.
"Good," Alex sighed in relief. "What time is it, anyway?"
"Eleven thirty," Liz informed her. "We have an omelet downstairs with your name on it."
She shuddered, "No offense, but eggs right now...no. A shower, toothbrush, maybe I could swipe a few clothes?"
"Sure, Alex," Liz pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Take all the time you need."
She wandered down the hall to the guest bath, and dove under the shower spray. She felt herself gradually returning to normal. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed blindly for a towel. It was vaguely damp, and smelled of Bobby. She pressed her face into it, remembering their little tete a tete last night. "When we're on a date, you'll know it."
"I'd like to know it right now," she muttered, tossing the towel into the hamper. Christ, Alex, you're like a damn teenager.
Liz took Alex over to their dad's place for their usual weekend cleanup and meal prep. Nate kept his grandfather entertained with stories of his mommy's stinky cheese, and how Bobby had taught him a new magic trick.
Johnny Eames raised an eyebrow, "Bobby been around this week?"
"Oh, yeah, he and Aunt Alex came over for supper and they stayed all night!" Bobby had to leave 'fore I got up, but Aunt Alex stayed in my room!"
"Is that so?" Johnny said.
"Uh, huh! She had a bad headache when she got up, so I had to be really quiet," Nate whispered.
Johnny shook his head, "Nice to have someone who can tell me what's goin' on."
Just then, Alex's phone rang. "It's Bobby!" Nate announced, reading the caller ID.
"Gimme that," Alex grabbed the phone, then headed out to the front stoop.
"Hey, how did it go?" she asked.
"Aw, pretty good," he replied. "How are you feeling?After last night..."
"Better. Now if you'd asked me that about two hours ago...no so much," she chuckled ruefully. "How did you sleep?"
"You mean with all the vino swimming in my veins? Not bad," he replied. "You at your dad's?"
"Um-hmm, doing the weekly dump the ashtrays, make sure the place is respectable, with food to get him by. Nate is busy playing informant," Alex took a drink of soda. "What do you have planned for the day?"
"Lewis needs help with an old F85 that he's restoring. Thought I'd help out with that," he mused.
"You going to the office?" she asked with trepidation.
"No," he said decisively, "I talked to Joe this morning and he said we are to take the rest of the weekend."
"Great," Alex sighed in relief. "Bobby, thanks for last night."
"Hey, I never turn down free food or booze," he chuckled.
"You know what I mean," she said reproachfully. "It meant a lot to have...your comfort."
"My heart hurt for you, Alex...I can't imagine...As for being there, you've been there for me, many times, some when I didn't deserve it," he was serious. "Just know that...I have your back, always."
"And I have yours," she said tenderly.
Sigh. I need to get past this dark, angsty business and let these people have some fun. Okay, next chapter, I promise. The poor Richman family will have their case solved, but our next chapter will be devoted to... some family meddling, which leads to some more fun...and then, hmmm, I think a...birthday cake, fireworks, and an actual...wait for it...a date! Keep all those reviews coming.