Thank you, thank you for the nice words! Sorry it's taking so long to update. Work is so inconvenient to writing fanfic :) I've had a blast with this so far, trying to stay on canon, giving the relationship attention, too. Been enjoying the LOCI marathon on Sleuth; right now "One" is playing. Interesting how their partnership and relationship evolved over the years. Okay, back to 2011. Thinking that maybe Bobby will have a little angst thing going, from his old behavior patterns. We are going to see some dates, therapy, case file, and...another smutty make out session. It's rated M for a reason. I don't own a damn thing, just borrowing them for a bit.
"Good morning to you," Alex smiled as Bobby strode into the squad room about fifteen minutes after her. "I brought you breakfast," she indicated the coffee and doughnuts on his desk.
"That's sweet, thanks," he grinned back.
"Sleep well last night?" she inquired innocently.
Bobby took a gulp of his coffee and bit into a doughnut, ""Best sleep I've had in a long time."
"Me, too," she agreed, propping her elbows on her desk. "Might have to try some of that Barbaresco again."
"Incredible vintage," he commented.
"Got the reviews for it?" she asked, trying not to laugh.
"First thing," he replied. "Inventive-um-way of communicating."
"Using what was at hand," Alex mused, sipping her coffee.
Hannah strolled from his office, "Good morning, detectives. Have a nice weekend?"
"What there was of it," Alex snarked.
"The price of on call," he pulled up a chair. "The mayor sends his thanks on a quick resolution to the case."
"The cost of political influence," Bobby retorted.
Alex frowned and shook her head the least little bit at her partner.
"Hear there's some evidence coming down today in the Richman case," Joe changed the subject.
They looked over at him sharply, "What kind of evidence?" asked in unison.
"Christ, that is freakish how you do that," he scowled in mock dismay. "According to Josh and Ira, more paper trail."
"When?" Bobby asked.
"Uh, we're meeting with the ADA's about eleven," he squinted at his watch.
"Wonder if trace has anything yet," Alex mused, reaching for the phone. "Dr Rodgers, please."
Elizabeth picked up the extension, sounding a bit annoyed, "Yes, Alex?"
"Just wondering if there's anything new back on the Richman case?" the detective inquired.
"You'd be the first to know, I assure you," the ME sighed.
"Some stuff is coming down from the tech end, and we have a meeting with the DA's office later this morning," she explained.
"Aw, yeah, the suits," Rodgers said sarcastically. "If anything turns up, I'll let you know."
"Okay," Alex agreed, hanging up. "Nothin'"
They were just clearing the door of the DA's office when Alex's cell rang, "Eames."
"Just got some of the DNA comps," Rodgers said.
"Is this going to be good news?" she was wary.
"Depends," she said laconically. "Samuel Dimitri is not Samuel Richman's biological son."
Alex dropped her phone, with her partner handing it back, "You're shitting me," she managed to groan.
"Nope, 99.99996% probability," Elizabeth noted. "Want me to fax you the results?"
"Uh, yeah. We're at the DA's office," they walked into Cutter's office. "What's your fax number?" She asked the attorney.
Mike rattled off the number, looking askance as she repeated it to Elizabeth.
"DNA results," she explained to the group assembled after she clicked her phone off.
"We're meeting in the conference room down the hall," Claire led the way. "And Jack is joining us."
"Captain, detectives, gentlemen," Jack greeted Joe, Bobby Alex, Ira and Josh. They took seats at the large table. "I understand you have some new information on the Richman case."
Ira nodded, "We found documents on Ms Dimitri's computer, from Paternity Finder. The ones of most interest," he clicked on the power point, "Were these. The first, dated 3/17/2011, is a request for DNA testing. According to the application, two buccal swabs were submitted for testing. As you can see, the person requesting the test is one Theresa Danton in re: Samuel N. Dimitri. The potential father is identified as Samuel M. Richman. The second," he clicked again. "The money order as payment for the test. And lastly, this letter on Paternity Finder letterhead addressed to Ms Danton with a copy to Samuel Dimitri, dated 3/25/211. It states that, according to the samples submitted, Samuel M. Richman is the biological father of Samuel Dimitri, with a probability of 99.99996%."
"Son of a bitch," McCoy muttered. "You confirm this with this...Paternity Finder?"
"No, not yet," Josh said in a rush, "but wow, how's that for motive on a silver platter?"
Alex spoke up, passing the fax she received from the ME, "That theory just had a huge hole blown through it. Our ME determined that Sam Richman is not the biological father of Sam Dimitri, with the same probability."
Everyone's faces fell in disbelief. "Dr Rodgers is sure?" Cutter said incredulously.
"Yep," Alex nodded.
"Looks like we need to authenticate the documents with Paternity Finder," Captain Hannah surmised.
"Did we find the original documents yet?" Bobby wondered.
"Not yet," Ira was chagrined. "Looked like this was a smoking gun."
"May still be," Claire commented. "If she faked that results letter."
"But say it was faked, and assuming Richman didn't father the kid," Jack tossed out. "Why would she go to all that trouble to lie to her kid, and then kill that family?"
Mike Cutter added, "It's the twenty years thing that gets me. Why wait that long to exact revenge?"
"The murder on Sam Dimitri's birthday is not a coincidence," Alex protested. "You saw us interrogating them. They are guilty."
"Maybe they are," Jack conceded. "But we are not taking this to trial until we get a complete picture. They were smart, or lucky, and we have no actual definitive evidence that connects them, just circumstantial."
"Yet," Bobby was confrontational. "Are you worried about your conviction rate?"
"I'm worried we'll end with the same kind of circus that we've been seeing in Orlando," Jack sniped back.
Captain Hannah tried to dial down the temperature, "Look, this is about justice for the victims, and not a pissing match. We'll keep digging, and work with your investigators, Mr. McCoy."
The district attorney nodded, "Thank you, Captain."
"I'm not done yet," Joe continued. "In return, I want you to treat my detectives with respect. They have been busting their asses, going above and beyond what the job requires. No one wants this resolved more than they do."
Jack took a beat, "Understood."
The NYPD contingent left the office, solemn. In the elevator, Bobby was brooding and pissed-off. Ira and Alex wore pained expressions, and Josh...looked like someone had killed his dog.
"We'll get them, troops," Joe said.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss," Alex said quietly.
Back at the office, they hit the phones and computers, hard. The DA's office had subpoenaed Paternity Finder, and their investigators were on their way to Maryland to interview them in person.
The war room was once again littered with Chinese food containers and empty coffee cups and water bottles.
"Wish we could take another run at the kid," Bobby scrubbed his face with his hands.
"He's the weak link in the chain," Alex agreed, leaning back in her chair, stretching her tired back. "But with this newest wrinkle..."
"I know how I'd do it," Bobby commented. "Use my-my own issues with-with an absent father."
"No," she grasped his wrist tightly. "No!"
He shook off her hand, "Might work."
"Bobby," she sighed. "It's-it would be a terrible minefield for you."
"Alex, I know," his expression softened. "I uh, really would like to talk to you about it, away from here."
"Um, dinner?" she suggested, a smile playing around her lips.
"Hey, I'm supposed to be asking you out," he teased.
"Then hurry up and ask," she grinned, glancing at the clock. "Because I am hungry."
He threw back his head and laughed, "Detective Eames, would you do me the honor of being my dinner date tonight?"
"I would love that, Detective Goren," she chuckled at his lighter tone.
The captain heard their laughter as he was getting ready to leave for the night.
Bobby and Alex were at their desks, powering down their computers and putting their desks in order.
"Glad to see you're not staying here half the night," he complimented them.
"We do have a life outside of this place," Alex said wryly, shooting Bobby a teasing glance.
"As it should be," Hannah was again struck by the vibe between the detectives. "See you in the morning."
"Night," they said as he headed for the elevator.
"We?" Bobby muttered, raised a brow.
Alex shrugged, "Don't think he got it."
"So, are you curious as to where we're going?" he asked they emerged onto the plaza.
"Oh, I trust your judgment completely," she grinned.
They strolled through the early evening crush, until they reached Harry's Cafe.
"Really?" she asked.
"Um hmm," he took her arm as they walked through to the grotto.
"You're spoiling me," she said seriously. They were sharing some lobster spring rolls.
"No one more deserving," he reached under the table and took her hand.
"Aw," she smiled tenderly. "But it doesn't have to be like...fancy every date."
"Next time you'll make us sandwiches and we'll eat in Central Park," he teased.
"I might be even make a little potato salad to go with," she grinned as their entrees arrived: steak for him, chicken for her.
After dinner, they took a leisurely, circuitous route back to One PP. They stopped for Italian ices and found a park bench to just sit and talk. The heat of the day had dissipated in the velvet darkness after nine o'clock.
"About earlier," Alex began.
"Having another run at Sam Dimitri," he finished her thought.
"Bobby, I know you want justice, but I don't want it at the expense of..." she stopped.
"My sanity?" he laughed sardonically.
"You-you have come so far in your sessions with Dr Gyson," she took his hand in both of hers. "I-I just don't want to derail that."
"Alex, I've used my family...drama..before...to nail a perp," he explained. "This is no different."
"Yes, it is," she said. "Because before...you didn't know the truth of your parentage.."
"Brady," he acknowledged. "In some ways, I think I can use my...anger to get at this kid."
"Have you...have you talked to Gyson about...Brady and your mom?" Alex asked.
"Not-not specifically," he said slowly. "Still have a hard time thinking of him as-as my father. My dad-uh, William Goren, is the man I still consider to be my father, in spite of a lab test...He's the one who was...in and out of my life, and some of who he was...has shaped who I am, for better or worse. Brady was just..."
"Someone who was in the room that night?" she suggested softly.
"Yeah," he sighed, tucking her head into his shoulder. "All it managed to do was explain how my mom and dad, even my brother...treated me."
"You...you have risen above it, all your life," her voice was tender, earnest. "And as much as I hate what...they did to you, if it weren't for them, I wouldn't have you, Bobby. And my life...without you, God, it would be so boring," she ended with a chuckle.
He put his arms around her and kissed her fiercely, "Thank you," he pressed his forehead to hers.
"For what?" she was surprised.
"For understanding, for being my safe place," he murmured into her hair. "Trust...is something I still have to work on. People in my past...like Gage..have betrayed it...but you never, ever have."
"Been royally pissed at you, and hurt..you..." she struggled with the words.
"You never turned your back on me, even when you might have been better off," Bobby said gently.
She breathed against his lips, "Even when I wanted to kick your ass, shake some sense into you, or rue the day I ever met you...there was no not having you in my life."
"I love you, Alex Eames," he resumed kissing her, more ardently this time.
"Love you," she returned his kisses full measure.
A teenaged couple walked by, taunting, "Look at the old people making out. Get a room!"
"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Alex snarked at them, and turned her attention back to her partner.
Bobby chuckled into her neck, "Want to take this back to your place?"
"I'd love to," she sighed. "But..."
"I know, work in the morning," he buried his nose in her hair.
"You said you wanted to, um, go slow and court me," she reminded.
Bobby groaned, "What the fuck was I thinking?"
"It's a good thing, really," she ran fingers through his short gray curls. "I'm-enjoying it."
"So, want to go to a movie tomorrow night?" he asked, tipping her face up to his.
"Two nights in a row?" she grinned.
"Well, if I keep waiting for our weekends to be free or people to quit killing each other..." he dangled the thought.
"Yes, I'd love to go to a movie with you," Alex said. "Have a specific one in mind?"
"No, you pick," he insisted.
"Let's see..something funny, or crude...brainless," she decided.
"It's a date," he laughed. Since they had both taken the train to work that morning, they parted at their respective stations.
Tuesday morning found them wading through more forensics, and a video conference in the captain's office with Dr Rodgers, as well as Jack McCoy, Claire Kincaid and Mike Cutter in the DA's office and the DA's investigators, Hector Salazar and Chris Ravell, who were still in Baltimore.
"Paternity Finder says they stand by their results, that the sample submitted matches as Sam Dimitri's biological father," Hector insisted.
"And with my known samples, that is absolutely not the case. I ran the tests personally, twice," Elizabeth insisted, holding up the hard copy of her results.
"Unless..." Bobby pondered aloud. "Let's say that Paternity Finder is right. The sample they noted as belonging to Sam Richman doesn't actually have to be Richman's."
Rodgers nodded, "Do they have the actual karyotype printout?"
"Uh, yes, right here," Chris said, rifling through documents.
"If you could fax those to me, I can tell you right now," the ME said excitedly.
While they were waiting, they discussed a game plan for their suspects.
"The more I think about this, the more I worry," Hannah had to admit. "We don't have clear cut DNA at the scene, we may not have a motive."
Alex and Bobby were holding their usual nearly telepathic conversation, "We need leverage to flip that kid," Alex insisted. "If we can offer proof that his mother lied to him..."
"He'd give her up," Bobby finished her thought.
"You need more than that," Jack insisted. "There are too many missing pieces."
The fax spit out the document from Baltimore. Rodgers jumped up and grabbed the page, comparing the it to the one in her hand. "The samples for the purported fathers are from two entirely different individuals."
"Well," Jack commented. "There goes your original theory."
Claire spoke up, "But it gives us another possibility, witness, or accomplice: Sam Dimitri's biological father."
"Whoever that is," Mike said sardonically.
"Look, we're no worse off than we were yesterday," Alex said practically. "We can re-interview people who knew Gala when she was pregnant. The people who employed her, the Mikos family, David Markham... her ex husband, for Chrissakes. And they can probably give us more leads."
"It'll take time," Jack reminded them.
"But we'll have the leverage to get them, and that's what we want, isn't it, Mr McCoy?" Bobby insisted.
Alex dragged Bobby to a nearby diner for lunch. A fair number of cops frequented the place, but they managed to finalize plans for their date that evening.
"I think we should go to this place for dinner," he extended his phone so she could see his choice. "It's not far from the Cineplex."
"I thought I was making sandwiches for us to eat in the park," she teased.
"With potato salad," he added. "That's for later this week."
"Really?" she asked.
"There's um, a concert in Battery Park Thursday night," he explained. "River and Blues."
"Sounds great," she grinned.
"What?" he asked.
"Third date tonight," she giggled.
"I know," he said. "Hey, what happened to letting me court you?"
"Just throwing it out there," Alex smirked.
"Uh-huh," Bobby chuckled. "So, what movie are we seeing?"
"Bad Teacher. Funny and superficial, which I think is just what we need after today," she took a drink of soda.
"Damn right," he agreed.
The remainder of their day was spent setting up witness interviews with David Markham, the Mikos', and tracking down Richard Danton. Stavros Mikos had passed away in 2000, but his wife survived him; she resided in an assisted living facility in Albany. Richard Danton was harder to track; they were working through credit records and his social security number.
At around four thirty, they did a conference call with David Markham. He was able to give them names of a few of their co workers at Maxine's, which Bobby and Alex planned to pass on to the DA's investigators. Markham also remembered Richard Danton vaguely. "He, uh, was a cook at the restaurant. As I recall, he was related to the owners, a cousin maybe?"
"Do you remember anything else about him?" Alex inquired.
"He was older, late forties. Very shy, he didn't say much," David commented. "You said he was the guy who married Gala?"
"Yes," Bobby answered.
"Surprised, because I don't think she'd given him the time of day," he recalled. "But then I wasn't exactly paying attention to shit like that."
They thanked him for his time, and then made plans to see Mrs. Mikos in person the following afternoon.
"Okay, that everything?" Bobby asked her about five thirty.
"Um, yeah," she lowered her voice. "Gonna perform a few miracles." She left for the ladies locker room. A quick scrubbing of her face, and pulling her hair out of the bun she'd had it in that day, she shimmied out of her slacks and blazer, and pulled on jeans, a lavender tank and purple t shirt. She put her boots back on. Makeup on fresh, and her long hair floating around her shoulders, she put one last touch of lipstick, a bit of perfume. Her bracelet glittered on her wrist. She smiled to herself. She had literally worn it every day since her birthday.
Bobby had gone to change into more casual attire as well; from the suit and tie to black jeans and navy t shirt, and sneakers. He decided to forgo the shave, just brushed his teeth and splashed on cologne.
They met back at the elevator, their demeanor nonchalant. To the casual observer, they were just leaving at the end of a usual day, maybe meeting a date for a drink after work.
Bobby and Alex walked uptown, to the restaurant he had chosen. A quick light diner, then off to the movie. They spent the next two hours laughing, eating popcorn and skittles, and losing themselves in silliness.
"I think there might have been a few teachers like that in my school," Bobby laughed as they walked downtown.
"Mine, too," she agreed, her arm linked lightly through his. "Thanks for letting me pick. I know your tastes run, um, a bit more cerebral," she grinned.
"Hey, I like fun as much as the next guy," he looked down at her in amusement. "Besides, you're putting up with my taste in music Thursday night."
"And you're eating my cooking," she bantered back, and turned the corner towards the train station.
"Nuh-uh," he pulled her in the opposite direction.
"What?" she cocked her head to the side.
"This is a date," he reminded her. "And I'm driving you home." He steered her towards the parking garage at One PP.
"You drove the Shelby?" she was incredulous.
"Only car I own," he said dryly.
"Can I drive?" she wheedled.
"Nope. Date. I drive," he put his arm around her shoulders.
"If you insist," she heaved an exaggerated sigh.
He drove towards Forest Hills, easily moving through the late evening traffic.
"Sorry we don't have any music," he said. "Radio's busted."
"This is nice," she smiled. Alex took his hand, and rested their clasped hands on her thigh.
"It is," he smiled back.
Soon, too soon, in her opinion, he was pulling up to her building."Want to come up for coffee? I have decaf," she invited.
"Uh...okay," he stammered.
He leaned against the counter while she made the coffee. He pulled out mugs and the sugar bowl from the cupboard, and cream from the fridge.
They carried the steaming drinks to the living room, sitting side by side on the couch. Alex kicked her shoes off, and tucked her feet under her.
"This-this dating thing," he paused. "I-haven't enjoyed myself this much in a very long time."
"Me, either," she rested her head on his shoulder. "Have to say, I didn't really know what to expect, because we've been friends for...years."
"I get that," he put his arm around her and rubbed his cheek in her hair, savoring the floral smell of her shampoo. "Maybe that's what makes it better, because we do know each other so well."
"Wish we didn't have to go to work tomorrow," she yawned.
"Long drive to Albany," he agreed. "But maybe we'll get a break in the case."
"Couldn't hurt," she snarked. "After the rousing success we've had so far this week."
"Hey, I thought I was the pessimist in this partnership," he teased, pressing his lips to her temple.
"Can't let you have all the fun," she chuckled huskily, pulling his mouth to hers.
"Speaking of..." Bobby deepened the kiss.
"Mmm," she moaned softly as his hand moved under her shirt, up her back.
"Really only came in for the coffee," he murmured at the base of her neck.
Alex massaged his scalp seductively, "I know. But maybe there's something you'd like better?"
"Lots of things," his fingers located the clasp of her bra, while the other hand was running under the front of her shirt.
"Bobby," a gasp wrung from her as he moved the bra aside, then ran his fingernails down her ribcage.
"Not what you expected?" His tongue licked slowly through her shirt, making one nipple, then the other, peak through the thin layers of cotton.
She arched into his hands, "Third date."
"Not done courting you yet," but his breath was ragged.
"Really?" she tried to find the zipper on his jeans.
"Just having some...fun," he held her hand still, took a tiny bite of the nipple closest. "Are you havin' fun?"
Her answer was a muffled epithet, her hips twisting slightly.
"Think that's a yes," he settled her across his lap, her back to his chest. Now both hands were under her shirt, alternately palming and plucking her breasts, his voice pouring erotic encouragement in her ear. "Does it feel good? Because I love how you feel..." his tongue licked below her ear... "how you taste..." His nose buried in her hair, "how you smell..."
Her butt moved forcefully onto him, ""please, baby, please..." she groaned.
"Talk to me," he moved one hand over her stomach, fumbled at the button on her jeans, felt for the pull of the zipper.
"Hot," she whispered raggedly, her skin slicking with sweat. "On fire."
"Hmm, pants on fire," he chuckled.
"Totally, totally true," Alex was panting as he succeeded in opening the zipper, sliding his hand to the edge of her panties, then inside... "Bobby!" she shivered, moaned as his fingertips found the pearl at the juncture of her thighs.
He was crumbling at her voice, the slickness at his fingertips, feel of her grinding down on him, "Alex, sweetheart..."
Their haze was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone, "No, God damn it," Alex wailed.
Bobby withdrew his hands and flung his head back against the cushions, "Worst fucking timing ever."
"Ignore it," she begged, trying to entice his hands back under her clothing. The words had scarcely left her mouth when his phone began shrilling. "Oh, come on, really?" Alex levered herself out of his lap and stumbled over to her purse. One missed call. One PP. "Not on call, ten thirty at night, just when..." she muttered as she went into the kitchen and viciously pressed redial.
Meanwhile, Bobby picked his up on the fourth ring. Hannah mobile. "Yeah, Joe."
"Bobby, sorry to call so late," the captain's voice was grave. "Sam Dimitri is at Bellevue. Tried to hang himself."
"Son of a bitch," he swore. "He gonna make it?"
"Looks like the guards got to him in time," Joe said laconically. "I know you and Alex are supposed to go to Albany in the morning, but under the circumstances..."
"Assuming his lawyer won't put a gag in his mouth," Bobby was now livid.
Alex emerged into the living room, clothing put back in place, and a pissed-off look on her face, "Part of me wishes he'd succeeded," she seethed.
"I know," he reached out and rubbed her forearm. "Sorry."
"Not your fault," she came over and put her arms around him.
"I should go," he sighed.
"Yeah," she walked with him to the door.
"Hannah wants me to try to talk to the kid in the morning," he rubbed the back of his neck, his face a mask of anger.
"Aw, Bobby," she protested.
"I know, I know," he waved his hands restlessly. "But it may be our chance to break him."
"As long as he doesn't break you," she muttered.
"Alex," he said tiredly.
"Sorry," she bit back a snarky remark. "I had a really good time tonight," she smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
"Me, too," he kissed her swiftly, then opened the door. "See you in the morning."
"Drive safe," she said, then locked the door behind him. She moved to the window and watched as he got into his car and pulled away. Only then did she let the bitter tears roll down her cheeks.
As it turned out, Sam Dimitri was not in any shape for visitors in the morning, much less an interrogation. He was stable, but his doctors were keeping him sedated, and his lawyer refused any olive branches from the DA's office or NYPD.
Alex was at the wheel of their department SUV, heading towards Albany.
"I hate to admit it, but I'm glad we aren't seeing the kid this morning," Bobby glanced up from his binder.
"Really? Why?" Alex cast him a sidelong look.
"Well, I think McCoy is right. We are still missing a few critical pieces to the puzzle. Might be better to have a-clearer picture before we hit him, hard," he explained.
"You agreeing with Jack McCoy, write this day down," she laughed.
"I know you and his wife are friends," he said.
"For ten years, and even she thinks he can be an asshole sometimes," she conceded.
They laughed companionably. "The other reason I'm glad we're going to Albany is...I get you to myself for a while," he smiled.
"If we hadn't been so rudely interrupted last night..." she grinned. "But I know what you mean. And I have a good feeling about meeting Mrs. Mikos, think she might be able to tell us something..."
"Woman's intuition?" he grinned.
"Something like that," Alex paused. "Want to talk about...?"
"When we were so rudely interrupted?" Bobby laughed ruefully. "I think the kids call it a total buzz kill."
"The cold shower I took didn't help much," she snarked.
"Usually doesn't when pants are on fire. And it didn't help mine either," he confessed sheepishly.
She raised her eyebrows, "Nice mental image," she smirked.
"Back at you," he teased. "Look, Alex...there's nothing I want more than to make love to you...soon."
"That's a relief," she sighed. "Because I was beginning to worry."
Bobby put his hand on her thigh, "When we...cross that line, there's no going back. And it's all tangled up with what we feel and who we are and..."
"...Work," she finished his thought.
"We fought so hard to get back to Major Case, you especially," he said earnestly. "You gave up a sure promotion, the captaincy...don't think I don't know what you sacrificed. Wherever we go, that is a fact of our life together."
Alex swallowed deeply and replied, "Once upon a time, I aspired to...rise above what happened to my dad, to best my brothers, to...remunerate...my husband's loss. But then I was assigned this partner. He was smug, arrogant, and brilliant. I literally had to run to keep up with him. He pissed me off, shut me out and challenged me every second of the day. But I learned this man cared deeply, not only about the victims and their families, but the perps, or what drove criminal behavior. He made me care. And, yeah, I still prefer to know the who rather than the why, but you made me a better person, a better cop. And I learned my biggest lesson of all: that I loved the man, the soul under the exterior. That's what matters to me, Bobby. Everything else is just...background noise."
"Alex," he was choked up. "Having this...understanding...still hard for me."
"I know," she acknowledged, brushing her hand across her eyes. "The intimacy thing..it's fun to tease you...because I know your track record with the ladies...and I can't wait to prove the size thirteen vibe theory," she took his hand and pressed it into her upper thigh.
"Such entertaining conversation," he teased.
"Alleviates boredom on road trips," she smirked.
"Intimacy...when I was younger, it wasn't about the emotion as much as pleasure," he reflected. "And even in the relationships I had..there were issues with the long haul."
"Went through that for years after Joe died. Once or twice...I thought I'd found someone who could...fill that void. When that didn't work out, I decided to carry Nathan...if I couldn't have that opportunity to have my own child, at least I could make it happen for my sister." she mused.
"And after that?" Bobby prompted.
"Didn't seem important. And I fell hard for you," she admitted. "But about the time I wanted to do something about it, there was the kidnapping and your mom got sick..."
"And Frank and Donny...Tates...Gage...a clusterfuck," he groaned.
"Pretty much," she whispered, clearing her throat. "Since this is 2011, probably ought to talk about um, protection."
"Uh huh," he nodded, "I've been tested, my doctor is big on preventative care. Not," he said ruefully, "that I've had anything to protect against for a long time."
"Gee, sounds like my sex life," she cracked. "I've had an IUD for years, and get tested, too."
"So when we get busy..." Bobby grinned.
"We can be safe," Alex finished. "Great, now you tell me. When we're spending the day on the road interviewing wits."
In spite of their repartee, they were serious about the task at hand. And Athena Mikos had a treasure trove of information.
Spry at eighty, she had lively eyes, and a sharp wit. She had set out a lunch of chicken salad on croissants, marinated vegetables, melon wedges and cookies. Fresh icy limeade shimmered in frosty glasses.
"This is so kind of you, ma'am," Bobby commented as they sat in the kitchenette of the assisted living apartment.
"Please, call me Athena," she urged. "And this is nothing, compared to what we made at the restaurant."
"This chicken salad...is marvelous," Alex took another bite.
She beamed at them, "Stavros and I...the restaurant was our lives. And since we didn't have our own children, our employees...our customers...were family." the smile faded from her face. "My heart breaks for the Richmans. He was such a kind boy, even back then."
"Did you keep in touch?" Bobby asked.
"Oh, letters and cards. He visited the restaurant when we retired, came to Stavros' funeral. I just had hip surgery, so I didn't get to-to-their mass," she wiped away tears.
"Do you remember Galatea Dimitri?" Alex wondered.
"That-that...poutana..." she sputtered. "She was no good, trying to seduce anyone she saw as a meal ticket. We finally fired her, because she was such a distraction. And then Richard fell for her...I told him she was trouble. He was shy, not experienced...sweet boy, my cousin's son. Why he married her...he said it was because of the boy."
"Gala's son?" the detectives exchanged a shocked glance.
"And Richard's," Mrs Mikos nodded. "He supported her through the pregnancy, and then finally they married. He was devastated when she left him, taking that sweet little boy."
Bobby posed the next question delicately, "How-how did you know that the child was you cousin's?"
"Richard told me," she sighed. "But I never...Gala was not...monogamous."
"She is pushing the agenda that Sam Richman is her son's father, even giving him his first name," Alex took a drink of the limeade.
"But Richard said he...took a test to prove he was the boy's father," the elderly woman was puzzled.
"When?" Alex asked.
"Oh, it wasn't so long ago, earlier this year. She came to him, saying that in order for her son to get financial aid, she wanted him to take the test," she made a face of disgust.
"You...you see Richard?" Bobby tried to keep his tone casual.
"He lives right here in Albany. Comes to visit a couple times a week," she replied.
Oh, my God, Alex telegraphed her reaction to her partner.
Richard Danton was just as his cousin said, a quiet man, very shy. He looked older than his sixty-nine years. They found him at his apartment on the north side of Albany.
"I really don't know what to say," he said sadly. "Athena misunderstood when I said the test proved Sam is my son. In fact, Gala told me that Sam Richman is his father. That's why I signed the papers at the time of the divorce."
"Then did you...did you do a DNA test this year|?" Bobby pressed.
"I did, but only to prove to the boy he wasn't mine. Gala..." his tone was wistful. "Even after all these years, I still love her, or at least who I thought she was. She said the boy was questioning his paternity. She still has a hold on me, I guess."
"Would you consent to a DNA test, Mr Danton?" Alex asked.
He looked puzzled, "I guess so. But I don't understand. What does it matter?"
"We need to know, once and for all, who Sam Dimitri's father is," Bobby said. "And we also need to know your whereabouts during the time of the events of this case."
"I was here," Richard's expression then dawned understanding, then horror, "You think I...? I could never...would never..."
They swabbed him for DNA with his consent, and informed him of his rights. Richard was forthcoming in his answers, but they felt they needed to verify his alibi.
From the local precinct, they called Captain Hannah and updated him on their productive day.
"You want permission to stay over and chase this?" their boss asked laconically.
"He was forthcoming in his answers," Alex said. They were on speakerphone in a small conference room. "And he willingly gave us his DNA."
Bobby added, "This guy...he may have value as a witness, but as for direct knowledge of the murder...doubt it. The locals could verify his alibi as well as we could."
"So that sounds like a no to staying over," Hannah commented. "Put dinner on the expense account and drive safely. See you in the morning."
"Morning? It's nearly seven thirty now. How about noon?" Bobby requested.
"If you swear in blood that DNA is in the lab before your heads hit your pillows," Joe said.
"Deal," Alex hung up.
"Let's get that dinner, and then go home," he gestured towards the door.
It was after midnight when they dropped the sample at the lab and headed to the elevator. "Got plans for the morning?" he asked.
She laughed, "Making sandwiches and potato salad for my date tomorrow, um, later today."
"You don't have to," he shook his head.
"Oh, but I do," her tone was silky. "I want to impress him."
"You already do," he whispered, brushing his lips in her hair as they parted at the train station.
Alex slept until nearly eight, assembled the potato salad, then went for her usual run. Her last loop took her by the market, where she piled the rest of the ingredients for their picnic supper into a canvas bag. At home, she split a loaf of crusty bread, hollowed out the center, and filled it with meats, cheeses and veggies. She drizzled vinaigrette over all, and replaced the top half of the loaf. She wrapped it well in foil, then put in the cooler, a foil-wrapped brick acting as a weight. Fresh strawberries between slices of bakery pound cake, dusted with powdered sugar for dessert, bottles of Italian sodas and the dish of potato salad and a bag of ice filled the cooler. She carefully lifted it into the trunk, along with a small basket of plates, flatware and napkins, covered it with a thick blanket and drove to work.
Bobby was already at his desk, busily typing on his laptop, "Afternoon, partner," he grinned, waving his hand towards the iced latte on her desk.
"Bless you," she breathed. "Any news on our jailbirds?"
"Well, mama is apparently plenty pissed that she can't see her baby boy. As for said boy, he remains sedated," he said dryly.
Alex scowled, "Does that mean his condition is..?"
"Rodgers talked with one of the docs at Bellevue this morning, and he's going to be fine, just want to give his body a rest. In other news, they found a note in his cell," Bobby added.
Alex brought her head up sharply, "What did it say?"
"See for yourself," he invited.
She rolled her chair next to his and read the copy on his screen, "Hmph," she scoffed. "Apologies to his dear mother, but no admission of guilt. Bastard."
Her phone rang, and she leaned over Bobby to pick up the call on his phone, "Eames."
Liz was on the line, "How quickly can you and your partner get down here?"
"Hello to you, too," Alex laughed.
"No joke," Liz's voice was tense.
"Be right there," she hung up. "Rodgers wants to see us."
In the morgue, she beckoned them into her office, "Found the smoking gun." she handed a report to Bobby.
He quickly scanned the sheet, and a grin crossed his face.
"What?" Alex snatched it from his hand and read. "Jesus Christ, what took so long to find this?"
"Well, the curtain cords used to bind Stella Richman were the twisted type, with a fancy notched edge. Trace collected the cords and swabbed the exterior. The DNA was hers. After we got our asses handed to us with the paternity test, we took another look at the bindings." She pointed to the evidence bag and accompanying photos. "I twisted the cord and saw the fingernail, a glove fragment and the blood. The unpolished nail and the glove fragment virtually eliminated the possibility of the vic being the source. So, I ran the analysis and voila...Samuel Dimitri is the source."
"No doubt?" Bobby persisted.
"99.999999989% good enough for you?" she countered. "And here is the second domino," she continued. "Samuel Dimitri is the biological child of Richard Danton. Also, the sample you obtained yesterday is a dead-on match for the sample submitted to Paternity Finder as the purported father."
"You got the results that fast?" Alex asked, shocked.
""Ran them personally. It's about time the good guys got a few breaks, don't you think?" the doctor said sarcastically.
They returned to MCS, energized. "Now we just have to get a meeting with Dimitri and his lawyer," Bobby told the team as they gathered in the war room.
Joe Hannah shook his head, "The DA's office isn't going to let you in ten miles of this."
"Why not?" Alex asked. "We have the opportunity to get him to confess, and to flip on his mother. I know it's about ego and perception, but...justice..." her gut twisted.
"Let me meet with McCoy, troops. In the meantime, we keep this in house, understood?" his tone was dire.
There were subdued mutters of agreement.
"God damn it," Bobby paced the conference room. "If we don't get to him now, he's going to slip through our fingers."
"He's locked in a psych ward, under sedation, Bobby," Alex tried to calm him down.
He took a deep breath, "And he could use emotional distress, diminished capacity...some bullshit excuse to get out of this."
She threw the crime scene photos across the table, "Any jury is going to see these and dismiss that for what it is...bullshit." Her tone softened, "Hey, there's nothing we can do about it anymore today."
He stared at her, "What-what do you suggest we do?"
"I'm going to a concert tonight and eat the nice picnic supper I made. It's up to you if you want to join me," she stared back.
"Go to the park, eat, and forget about this," he gestured at the files and stacks of evidence.
"It will be here tomorrow," Alex replied. "You want a normal life? This is what real people do. I'll be in the car," she turned and left the room.
Bobby scrubbed at his face with his hands, sank into the nearest chair. He couldn't do it, he thought. He couldn't let that family be denied justice. Then he heard Dr Gyson's voice. "Having a normal life is something that takes hard work, harder than anything you've ever done. You have an emotional drawbridge that you use for protection." And Alex's words, "You have empathy for everyone but yourself." He gazed into the bullpen. Over half the desks were empty, his colleagues out the door and on with their lives. Was he using the job as a substitute for the voids in his personal life? He kept telling Alex that he wanted a future with her. Well, did he or not?
Alex went to the locker room and changed into shorts and a sleeveless blouse. Bowing to the late July heat, she pulled her hair up, using a clip to secure a messy bun. She slammed her locker door with a little more force than necessary.
"Let me guess, partner piss you off?" Detective Amy Walker laughed.
"Yeah...no...Hell if I know," Alex groaned, sinking onto the bench.
"Now that sounds like boyfriend pissed-off rather than partner pissed-off," she yanked a dress out of her locker and slipped it over her head.
"What are you, a cop?" Alex snarked.
"Hey, I got two divorces under my belt, girlfriend," the other detective shot back.
"Just...over-thinking things, I guess," she said wryly. "Bad habit acquired from my partner." Her cell beeped. She looked at the display "At your car. Were r u?"
She keyed in a quick reply. "C u in 2."
"Guess he came to his senses," Amy laughed, seeing the expression on her face.
Alex simply grinned.
He lounged against her car, clad in the camo shorts and black t shirt she loved, "Hey, I was wondering if I could hitch a ride to the concert?"
"Maybe," she said cautiously, taking out her keys.
He reached out and tried to grab them, but she held them behind her back. "Aw, Alex, c'mon. We need to get there soon if we want a good seat."
"In a minute," she was deadly serious. "I-I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to-to minimize how you feel."
He was stunned. He expected anger, sarcasm, not an apology. He stammered,"You were right, you know. Obsessing is not going to help solve this case any faster."
She handed him the keys, smiling. "A little obsession is a good thing," she conceded as he pulled out of the parking garage. "Otherwise we wouldn't have the solve rate we do."
They arrived at the park in time to spread the blanket on the ground. Alex unearthed the food from the cooler and passed him a plate.
"Okay, this is great," he said in appreciation, taking a bite of the potato salad. "You sure you made this?" he teased.
"Perhaps you'd like to be wearing it instead of eating it?" she asked sweetly.
"I believe you," he held up a hand in mock fear.
They sat back on the blanket as the band tuned up and the sun sank slowly in the sky.
"Great music," she sighed as the last notes died away. She was lying on her stomach, Bobby on his back, leaned back on his elbows.
"Wonderful night," Bobby agreed.
People around them were gathering up remnants of picnics, extinguishing candles, and folding up blankets.
"Not ready for it to end," she sighed.
"Me either," he sat up and ran his hand over the small of her back.
She rolled over and regarded him curiously, "What would you like to do?"
"I dunno," Bobby put his hand on her stomach.
"Maybe not that," Alex picked up on a restless vibe from him. "I have an idea," she said brightly.
"What?" he asked.
"It involves you driving me home," she began.
"So far this is not objectionable," Bobby laughed as they repacked their belongings and made their way to the car.
"Let me finish," she put a hand on his arm. "The rest requires a certain amount of trust on your part."
"Okay..."he strung out the syllables.
"I want to do something for you, to take care of you," she said seriously, "spoil you."
"You made us dinner," he reminded her. "And you take care of me every single day, honey."
"This isn't about sex," she explained. "Just...let me help you relax."
"You mean like...what...a massage?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "What do you think?"
"Your place or mine?" he smiled.
"Mine," she said, letting relief wash over her.
They arrived in Forest Hills before eleven. While Bobby was in the bathroom, Alex rummaged through the hall closet, looking for some massage oil. She came up with a bottle of almond oil. She went into the bedroom, pulled back the covers and laid an oversized towel down. She lit a few candles and left just a small dresser lamp lit.
Bobby was waiting in the living room. "I'm just going to warm this up a bit," she held up the bottle of oil. "Want some wine?"
"Sure, I can get that for us," he followed her into the kitchen as she filled the sink with hot tap water.
He poured a couple of glasses of zinfandel and handed her one. They clinked their glasses together, then she asked, "Why don't you go lie down?"
Bobby took one last swallow of his drink, and kissed her cheek.
She found him lying face up, clad in his shirt and shorts, his shoes and socks discarded by the bedroom door.
"Let's take this off," she helped him pull the shirt over his head. "Lie on your stomach," she whispered.
Before he did as she asked, he cupped her face in his hands, "Alex...I...thank you."
"You don't even know if I'm any good at this," she chuckled wickedly, patting the bed next to her.
He lay face down, giving himself over to the mood. She straddled his thighs, and poured a stream of the oil over his broad back. Bobby felt the stress of the day seep away as her hands massaged the muscles of his back and neck, fingers soothed his scalp. All the while, her voice whispered tender words, balming his soul as her hands stroked his body. He let himself relax, then drift into a deep slumber.
Alex could feel his muscles ease up beneath her touch, and when she heard a soft snore, she sighed in satisfaction. She extinguished the candles, stripped to her panties, retrieved his shirt from the foot of her bed. She slipped it over her head, then pulled the covers over both of them. Snuggling close to him, she was asleep in moments.
"Hey, I need my shirt back," Bobby's voice was in her ear.
She buried her face deeper in her pillow, "Huh?"
Bobby turned her over and waved a cup of coffee under her nose, "Good morning, sunshine."
She squinted in the bright sunlight, "Why are you a morning person?"
"Best time of the day," he chuckled. "Especially after a really good night's sleep."
"Come back to bed," she murmured, letting her eyes drift shut.
"Nope," he grinned. "The coffee for the shirt."
"Or..." she sat up and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"It's eight thirty, Detective Eames," he said sternly.
"What? And you let me sleep?" she flung back the covers and hurried to the bathroom.
"Forgetting something?" Bobby called after her.
"Here's your damn shirt!" she flung it over her head and winged it towards him, affording him a brief flash of her breasts. She slammed the door as he pulled the shirt on.
"I'll see you at work," he said loudly to the closed bathroom door.
Hannah waved Bobby into his office as soon as he entered the squad-room, "Running a little late this morning?"
"Had a date, overslept. Sorry," Bobby cracked a grin.
"Whatever," Joe said. "DA's office wants to meet at one. With all the recent evidence, it's going to the grand jury, probably next week."
"Are they going to offer anything to Dimitri junior?" he asked..
"Maybe," the captain acknowledged. "Last report from Bellevue says he's alert and awake, probably headed back to Riker's this afternoon. So let's get the ducks in a row."
"Understood," Bobby got up to leave.
"And find your partner," Hannah added as he cleared the door.
Alex emerged from the elevator a few minutes later. She was struck by the undercurrent of tension in the bullpen. "Hey, Rich, what's up?"
"Getting ready to drop the hammer on the Richman case," her colleague informed her.
"Today?" she was surprised.
"Yeah, and Hannah's on the warpath," he warned.
She went to the conference room, in search of her partner. He caught her in the doorway, and took her aside, "If anyone asks, you had car trouble this morning," he said under his breath.
"Great," she muttered.
The meeting in the DA's office went considerably smoother than the ones prior. Jack even congratulated them on their stellar investigation.
Before Samuel Dimitri was returned to Riker's he and his public defender, Stan Shattenstein, met with Cutter and Claire. Alex and Bobby attended the meeting as well, standing in for the DA's investigators.
"You're going to get this in discovery, but we thought you'd like to know what you'll be up against at trial," Claire flipped open a file. "Your DNA, blood and fingernail, at the crime scene."
Dimitri was expressionless. Shattenstein reached for the file, read it, and blanched. "Is this for real?"
"For real?" Cutter barked out a sarcastic laugh. "As real as it gets."
"My client-uh, he has done work in the Richman apartment," the public defender stammered.
"Right," Alex's voice dripped acid. "While he was rebooting Stella's computer, he told her there was a glare on the screen. He went to close the curtains, and his fingernail caught in the tie-back cords. Happens all the time."
Dimitri grinned smugly, "Thanks for the theory."
"You know, killing Sam Richman, I understand that. After all, he was your absent father. And my father, he wasn't very present in my life," Bobby mused.
"Then he was one up on mine, because the sperm donor never wanted thing one to do with me," he sneered.
"Really?" Bobby countered. "Funny, that's not what he told us." He slapped Richard Danton's statement in front of him.
Dimitri spared the document barely a glance, "He's not my father, just some loser my mom married."
Cutter flipped the next domino, "Not your father. Who told you that, your mother?"
"DNA test, read it and weep," Alex quipped. "Or in your case, rot in hell."
Thunderclouds gathered on the suspect's face as he scanned the report, "This is a trick."
"Let me see that," his lawyer yanked the paper from his client's hand. "Sam, I'd advise you to keep your mouth shut." He perused the document.
"That's a fake," Sam muttered. "It's wrong. He's not my father. I took a test."
"Sure you did," Bobby said quietly. "And you failed. Miserably."
"So, does your client have anything to say for himself?" Cutter inquired.
"I need to confer with him," Shattenstein closed the file.
"Bullshit, I'm not talking to anyone," Dimitri sneered. "Take me back to Riker's."
"Riker's, huh? The place you tried to escape, via a pine box?" Alex hammered.
"That's uncalled-for, detective," Shattenstein scolded.
"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Bobby rose after delivering his parting shot.
On the way back to the office, the partners walked in silence. They bypassed their desks and headed to the conference room.
"Think we got through to him?" Alex asked at length.
"Dunno," he rubbed the back of his neck wearily, his expression angry.
She watched as he paced the room, "His lawyer is a first class loser."
"But even he knew to shut his client up," Bobby raged. "What if he gets off?"
"He won't," she said. "Are you okay?"
"No," his tone was deadly.
Alex felt a frisson of fear, and bit her lip, "Tell me what I can do for you."
"Nothing...just...nothing," he muttered. "Have to work it out for myself." Bobby had the acute sense of walls closing in. She couldn't help. He'd just pimped out his family again, and for what? An unrepentant sociopath. Dimitri was another Nicole, another Declan...they'd used him up and spit him out. "I-I gotta get out of here."
"Wait!" she brought her head up sharply.
He seemed not to hear her as he strode out the door, to the elevator bank.
"Son of a bitch," Alex muttered under her breath. She hesitated a split second, then ran after him.
He was just getting to the elevator, when she inserted her boot in the closing doors. Bobby looked startled, then pissed. "What part of that did you not get?"
She looked daggers at him as the elevator opened, "I got it, all right," she hissed, not caring if the knot of officers in the hallway heard. She got into the car and pressed the button for the parking garage.
"Eames..." he was trying to keep a leash on his temper and failing.
"Talk to me," she pleaded.
"I-I can't..." his tone was anguished.
"You won't," she countered.
Stony silence greeted her.
"Just because you're mute doesn't make you deaf," she said coolly. "If you're going to punish yourself, at least...be smart about it. I don't want to hear about you on the morning news tomorrow."
"Anything else?" he asked.
"That's it," Alex remained in the elevator when the doors opened.
"See you Monday, Alex," he said, before the elevator closed.
She rode back up to the eleventh floor, stewing. It was going just too fucking well. How did she think that a few weeks of this new relationship was going to erase a lifetime of...drama...abuse...doubt? If he didn't want her help, she wasn't going to force it on him. Alex bit her lip, trying not to cry. Help. She had a thought as she sat down at her desk. Scrolling through her laptop, she found the contact number for Dr Paula Gyson.
Bobby took a seat at his neighborhood bar, and ordered a double scotch.
"Long time no see," Waldo, the bartender, commented.
"Been busy," he said shortly, tipping the glass back.
"Running a tab?" the barkeep inquired.
"Uh-huh," the detective grunted. "Hit me again."
"Detective Eames? This is Paula Gyson, returning your call. How can I help you?" her voice was kind.
"It's not me, it's Bob-it's my partner," Alex explained. "I have some concerns about his..mood, for want of a better word."
"You know I can't get into the specifics of his case," the doctor explained.
"I know that," Alex was frustrated. "Something...happened with a suspect this week, during an interrogation, and it triggered...Bobby has a habit of torturing himself when things don't go well, and this is one of times. He can be...self-destructive." Way to betray your man, Alex.
"You're worried," Gyson said cautiously. "What do you think he'll do?"
"If I'm lucky, he'll go home and drink himself into oblivion," she snarked. "Or maybe drown his sorrows at his local bar. I just...want to make sure he keeps his appointment this week, and to give you a heads-up."
"I appreciate the call," Dr Gyson paused. "Is it all right if I share your concerns with him?"
Alex rolled her eyes, "Yes, I guess."
"Although I think he might appreciate it more coming directly from you," the therapist continued.
Shrink speak, Alex thought, dismayed. "I'll tell him." She hung up and slammed the laptop shut. Once home, she changed into her running gear and hit her usual circuit, plus an extra two miles. Fury drove her more than anything. After her shower, she decided to address the backlog of voice mails. Three from Liz, two from Ashley about a dress fitting, one from her dad. Dinner invites from Will and Melanie, one from Claire.
She returned calls, while eating leftover potato salad and a sandwich from last night's picnic, along with several glasses of wine.
By the time she reached Liz, she was feeling pretty buzzed, "Hey, sissy!"
"Wow, you sound vaguely like my sister Alex," Liz laughed.
"Right, on the very first try," she giggled.
"My drunk sister Alex," Liz amended.
"Not drunk, just kinda tipsy,' she corrected her.
"Uh huh. Bad week at work? Or fight with the partner?" she inquired.
"Both," Alex flopped onto the couch.
"I thought things were going well for you and Bobby," Liz sighed.
She poured the remainder of the bottle, "So did I."
"How about you come drown your sorrows with us at the pool tomorrow?" she invited.
"I guess," Alex said. Dark was enveloping the apartment when she wandered into the bedroom. She saw the bottle of oil, and the wadded up towel on the bed. She picked it up and inhaled his scent. Her anger evaporated, to be replaced by a bone deep sadness. She cried herself to sleep, clutching his pillow.
Bobby stumbled home near midnight, drunker than he'd allowed himself to get for at least a year. He fell into bed, not bothering to undress. The booze dulled the heartache he felt, but didn't erase it. He remembered the feel of Alex's hands last night, the sound of her voice. Why did he have to go fuck it up?
Alex woke the next morning with a pounding headache. She resisted the urge to check on Bobby, her pride still hurt from his attitude yesterday. Plus, if he felt half as shitty as she did, that might be punishment enough. After a morning of laundry and re-hydration, she set off for the pool. An afternoon of horseplay with Nathan, and a good old Eames family gossip session went a long way towards improving her mood.
Bobby's hangover didn't preclude him from heading over to help Lewis at the garage. His friend took in his trashed appearance, but made no comment. He stayed far into the evening, smoking and slamming beers. He'd probably have another hangover tomorrow, he thought to himself. His phone beeped as he walking into his apartment, 1 new text from Alex Eames. "Call me."
He held the phone, considering. But he pressed the speed dial, "So, I'm calling you back."
Her voice was sleepy, "Thanks. Just checking in."
"I'm fine," he said shortly.
"Uh huh," she was more awake now. "Look, I called Gyson yesterday."
He shook his head, dismayed, "Why?"
"You know why. Are you going to keep your appointment in the morning?" she asked.
"If you let me get to bed," he countered.
"Need a ride?" she yawned.
"No, I'm fine, Alex," his tone softened.
"You'd better be, because I have no inclination to break in a new partner or a new boyfriend," she said dryly.
He had to laugh, "Good to know. Night."
"G'night," she replied.
He walked into Gyson's office Sunday morning, not sure what to say. Or rather, what to say first.
"How was your week, Robert?" she began, deciding to go with open-ended.
"Really great and and beyond shitty," he responded, slouching in his seat.
"Interesting answer," Gyson cracked a smile.
"You would like me to elaborate," Bobby rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "Okay, the good part first. I've had some amazing dates w-with my part-with Alex," he smiled to himself.
"Sounds like you're working through, the intimacy issues," she concluded.
Bobby sat a little straighter in his chair, "Yeah, I mean, we're taking it slow, but..it's really a surprise."
"What is?" Gyson asked.
"Well, we've been friends for twelve years, and I'd say best friends for most of that time. I thought that dating might be weird...or diff-different, somehow." He got up and looked outside. "It's comfortable, but on a whole 'nother level."
"Last week I asked if you were happy," she reflected. "And it sounds like you are."
"Yes, I am-we are," he sat down again and rubbed at his knee. "We go out to dinner, have drinks, been to a concert...a movie...and that's about as far as I want to discuss that." he broke off and smiled.
"Physical intimacy is something that's difficult to talk about in session," Gyson said.
"Yeah, it is," he said dryly. "A couple of nights ago...Alex did something...showed me that...she cared beyond just sex. We'd had a rough day, and she knew that the case was...becoming even more taxing for me...She made us a picnic lunch, and we went to a concert after work. I went home with her and she...gave me a massage. No pressure to take it further, she just...it was truly a tender thing." his voice was incredulous.
"And you think your not worthy of that kind of caring?" Gyson sensed an important insight to be revealed.
"Uh...yeah, no...I don't know," he said. "All I know, is I slept soundly, and felt...it soothed my soul, especially with what happened after that."
"Did Alex tell you she called me Friday?" Gyson tiptoed into the question.
"Yes, she told me last night. She-uh...this case has hit one big raw nerve and I-uh, I can be self-destructive." He grinned ruefully. "She didn't want to see my body on the front of the Post, and she absolutely wanted me to show up for my session today."
"You what, use alcohol, drugs? Pick a fight in a bar?" Gyson wondered.
"Drink too much, get sloppy...maybe not pick a fight, but can get targeted in one," he acknowledged.
"There was a trigger for this...behavior," she reflected.
"I-uh, this case. Been known to pimp out my family to get a suspect to confess, and I did it again this week, with no success. This kid is-is a sociopath, with no remorse for what he's done," he was up again, pacing.
"Dealing with that type of criminal is what you do, it's why you're so successful at your job," she reinforced. "It's part of your skill set."
"But this...murderer went through life thinking his father was someone who was absent, didn't care. Of course, that information came from his lying mother," Bobby said sarcastically. "It took the slaughter of a whole family, and a police lab for this kid to find out who his true father was, a man who would have...been in his life...if he had the opportunity to know the whole truth," Bobby struggled to explain, knowing what came next would break through a wall he wasn't sure he was ready to break down.
"The father subject is a touchy one for you," Gyson commented. "We've barely addressed it."
"My dad, the one who raised me, he-he wasn't my biological father," he decided to let the bomb drop.
She couldn't help it, her professional mask slipped, "That's hard news to get. How-how far into your life did you find that?
"Uh, on my mother's deathbed four years ago, she said she'd had an affair, and never knew for sure...my mom, my dad, even my older brother on some level...they all knew," he said bitterly.
"Did...did you ever find out who...?" she stumbled over the words.
"Yeah, at the same time my mother was dying, this prisoner on death row, Mark Ford Brady...about to be executed, got me and my partner to the prison...to help him remember and locate some of his missing victims," Bobby swallowed bile. "He was a photographer, and he kept these scrapbooks, by the decade he killed his victims. My mother was in one of the books, the 60's, while she was married to my...the man I thought was my father."
Gyson went pale, as understanding dawned, "He was...manipulating you."
"Fuck yeah," Bobby responded bitterly. "It took me a year after they were dead to get the guts to actually do the test." He sat back down. "My partner...she knows all this...and she worries because...it brings up the anger issue...and imperfect fathers."
The therapist sat quietly, "Well, I think we're finally establishing the trust we talked about."
"Gonna scare you off, Doc?" he managed a sardonic chuckle.
"Not a chance," she returned his smile. "Your partner...she's an amazing support to you."
"I might have been dead three or four years ago had it not been for her," Bobby said affectionately.
"And I think that about does it for today," she took a deep breath and stood when he did.
She extended her hand to him, "Thank you for...the work you put in today. I know that took real effort."
Bobby shook her hand warmly, "Thank you for making this a- a safe place. Um, no homework assignment this week?"
"Just...remind yourself that Alex values your well-being, and let her know that. It's not meddling or snitching, but born out of love and concern on her part." she said thoughtfully.
"Sounds easy enough," Bobby again gave a sardonic grin. "Next week, then."
Okay, this was painfully long. But we're moving in the right direction. Next chapter, the relationship...um, okay, smut level is going through the roof. But only if you review. Like um, 10 more before the next one is posted.