Happy New Year, CI fans! How very mean of me to end the last chapter where I did! I had no idea it would take me this long to update. Holidays, work and being miserably sick didn't help matters. Boy, did I have trouble whipping this chapter into shape. Too much detail? Too little? For better or worse, this is chapter 13. I don't own them, just love borrowing them.
Alex's heart pounded in her ears as she hastily hit redial on her phone. Voice mail. "Damn it!" She tried his land line. Answering machine. She grabbed her keys and searched through her purse for her cell phone. Powering it up, she noticed the list of missed calls. She pressed the contact "MCS" as she ran down the stairs.
A familiar feminine voice was prodding Bobby to wake up, with an Australian accent.
"Hey, I didn't hit you that hard," she clucked. "Get up on this chair."
His head swam, "Nicole...you're dead." He couldn't make his mouth work very well.
"Really? You always said I had nine lives," she took advantage of his disoriented state to secure his extremities to the chair with zip ties.
"Drugged me," he shook his head, trying to clear it. "Your specialty."
His captor remained behind him, just beyond his line of sight, but her voice seemed to come from near the side door. He was in the living area of his apartment, facing half away from the front entry. He tried to free himself, but the ties cut deep.
"Patience," the voice scolded. "This will be over soon."
"What...do you mean?" The fog was lifting, even though his head hurt like a son of a bitch.
His attacker moved into his line of sight, "Surprise, Bobby!"
He felt the color drain from his face, "Jo!"
"Well, who else? After all, dear old Dad offed Nicole years ago," she sighed.
The voice was odd, and her lips didn't seem to move. Not Nicole's voice at all, but an approximation. "Ventriloquism," he muttered.
"One of those things one learns while confined to bed, in a vegetative state," she smirked. "And my tongue is still a little functional, don't you think?"
His eyes followed her as she paced, his heart sinking as he realized she was holding a gun. His gun. "Dec...said you were clever."
"Don't say that!" she snapped, striking the side of his head. "Shut the fuck up about him."
"What..what do you want?" he tried to draw her out.
"Freedom," she bit out.
"And killing that nurse was your way out?" Bobby was sarcastic.
"That bitch was going to send me back to jail. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let her stop me," she reached for a roll of duct tape and unspooled a length, moving towards him.
"Then why show up here, if you wanted to be free?" he pressed, jerking his head away from her touch.
"Have unfinished business with your partner," she sneered. "Or, should I say, your lover?" she picked up a framed snapshot from the shelf above the sofa. "Boy scout Bobby Goren, fucking his little Eames. How does the NYPD feel about that?"
"You...leave her out of this!" he was desperately trying to free himself.
"No. I thought I'd kill you both, you know. After all, you stole Declan from me. My only parent." She knelt in front of him. "Then I got here, looked around and saw her stuff in the closet, the bathroom...and came up with an alternate plan." She tightly wound the tape around his mouth. "I'll finish the job and let you watch. You took my family, I'll take yours. Tit for tat."
Bobby tried to fight the vomit rising in his throat. He couldn't let it happen-Alex...the love of his life...he felt the hot prick of a needle in his neck, then the fog moved in again.
"Pick up, damn it," Alex whispered impatiently.
"Hannah," was the terse reply.
"Jo has Bobby!" the words burst from her throat.
"Hold on, hold on, where are you?" Joe tried to maintain his composure.
"Just leaving home. He called me and was cut off," Alex practically yelled.
"And he was at home?" the captain grabbed his jacket, and his piece.
"Yeah, I think so, I'm on my way there now," she forced herself to take a breath. "How long has she been out?"
"They were taking her back to jail when she escaped from the ambulance yesterday morning. Slit the paramedic's throat. Figure she must have had help," he explained.
"Don't bet on it, she's smart," Alex groaned.
"We've had a team covering Bobby's place. No movement," he explained. He paused as an urgent voice interrupted. "I stand corrected. Team saw him go in."
"Why didn't they stop him?" she asked in agony.
"We've been trying to warn both of you all weekend, Alex," Hannah felt his anger rise.
She felt the smack of guilt, "We were at my niece's wedding, not on call."
"I realize that, but you can't confront her on your own, Detective," he put the call on speaker and waved to Daniels and Falacci.
"Then you'd better hurry up," Alex clicked the end button on the phone and tossed it into the console. She reached under the seat for her seldom-used flasher, powered it up, and hit the gas.
The captain was yelling out orders as he ran for the elevator.
She literally felt like she was operating in a parallel universe. Detective Eames expertly maneuvered her vehicle towards Greenpoint with all the defensive driving skills of an NYPD vet. Alex Eames the woman was experiencing the terror of potentially losing the man she loved, every scenario flashing through her brain. In record time, she was turning down Bobby's street. She made the unmarked surveillance vehicle about fifty feet from the front of the building. Alex left her car double parked and sprinted towards the officers, badging them by banging on the windshield.
"Detective, we've..." the younger of the two officers stammered.
"Save it. I'm going in, and I expect you to back me up," Alex interrupted. "There's a back entrance, and I want you to take the front. His apartment is on the first floor, last unit on the right."
"But Captain Hannah said..." Officer Johnson, as senior partner, was nonplussed.
"Look, my partner is likely in mortal danger, I'm not fucking waiting for the calvary to get here. I'm keeping my mobile line open, it'll have to do as a wire," she dialed dispatch and informed them of her plan, cursing the faded light as even as she ran between the buildings, and cut through the alley. She tucked the phone in her bra, speaker facing out, thankful that the shirt she wore was one of Bobby's cast off t shirts. It would be baggy enough to conceal the bulge, but thin enough to preserve the sound quality. She took her key and turned it in the lock as quietly as possible then came through the doorway, gun drawn. She heard the report of a gun, felt a burst of heat on her left shoulder.
"Put it away, Eames," the voice was off to her left. Alex was momentarily off kilter, both from the pain and the dimness.
Alex was stunned at the voice, "No fucking way."
Jo reached for the light switch, "If you don't, he dies."
Gage was pointing a gun at her with her right hand, while holding a scalpel to Bobby's throat with her left. He looked barely conscious, tethered to the chair, with duct tape gagging him. Alex took it all in, registering that this was her nightmares come to life.
"You think you're going to get away with this?" Alex tried to keep her voice steady.
"Well, I was able to get here, wasn't I?" she laughed.
"Murdering your way out of the system," Alex saw that Bobby was trying to open his eyes. "There's a surveillance team out front. I've called for backup."
"Oh, those jokers?" Jo's laugh was nearly maniacal. "Barely old enough to shave. Put the gun down."
At that moment, there was the sound of a battering ram against the front door. "NYPD!"
Alex yelled, "She's got a gun and a knife!" She saw the scalpel move across Bobby's throat and a spray of blood...she aimed towards Jo's head and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter spattered as she fell lifeless to the floor. Alex rushed forward, using her hands to hold pressure on Bobby's gaping wound.
The apartment was filled with officers and chaos reigned the next several minutes. Call in EMS!" Daniels yelled as Officer Johnson checked Jo for a pulse.
Johnson was pale as he shook his head, "She's gone."
Alex cried out, "Help him!" She was ripping the duct tape from his mouth, "Bobby, it's going to be all right, stay with me," she said into his ear.
"Give us some room," the paramedics pushed her to the side and their efforts became a blur.
"Eames, you're hit," Hannah looked at the spreading red stain on her shoulder.
She looked numbly at it, "Just a graze, I'm fine!"
"Get another bus," Falacci barked into her radio.
"Don't need it, going with Bobby," Alex insisted, trying to see the medics work.
"Detective, stand down, that's an order!" Hannah reached for a chair and sat her firmly in it.
"She drugged him, I don't know with what," she said.
"He's coming around, ma'am," the medic, Linda, said as they loaded Bobby on a gurney.
An oxygen mask was clamped on his pale face, an IV was infusing rapidly. The other medic, Andrew, was holding pressure on the neck wound.
"Alex, where's Alex?" Bobby mumbled, trying to grab for the mask.
She shook off the captain's grasp and leaned over her partner, brushing her hand over his forehead, "Shh, I'm here, everything's all right."
"Nicole...or was it Jo?" he shook his head from side to side.
"She's gone, don't worry, sweetie," she tried to hold him down.
"You're okay?" his voice was weak, his dark eyes haunted.
"The famous Eames bullheadedness rides again," she tried to smile, but couldn't.
"Hey, man, we'll look after her," the captain assured him.
"Glad," he sighed, his eyes drifting shut.
"Let's go," Andrew urged.
"I'm going with him," Alex was adamant.
Linda gave her shoulder a quick glance and pronounced it a graze. "Might need some stitches, but you'll live." She slapped a dressing on.
In the ambulance, Bobby remained out, worrying Alex. The medics had grabbed the syringes Jo had used. They were hospital grade, the sedative Versed and the narcotic Fentanyl. Andrew assured Alex that the medications were responsible for Bobby's sedation rather than his blood loss. His vital signs were relatively stable.
Once in the ED, Dr Delgado looked at the wound, which was approximately ten centimeters in length, and down to the fascia. Luckily, the carotid was intact, but he recommended a surgical repair. "Does he have any family?"
"Me, I'm his partner," Alex said. "I also have his medical power of attorney."
"Then I need to speak with you," he gestured to the side.
"I'll be honest with you, Detective Eames. Your partner sustained a blow to the head, and he was injected with two powerful substances. Anesthesia under those circumstances could cause problems. Any other pertinent medical history?" the doctor asked.
"He's not on any medications, he's pretty active," she bit her lip. "He was hospitalized for dehydration...a breakdown three years ago. He's been under a lot of emotional stress the past several years, but he's...he's taking better care of himself, lost a lot of weight, exercises...but he does still smoke."
"How much?" the physician asked.
"Half a pack a day, sometimes more," a ghost of a smile touched her lips. "He thinks I don't know how much."
"We do need to address the laceration, but we need to do a head CT to make sure the head blow isn't a brain bleed," he explained. "Was he altered at the scene?"
"No, he knew who I was," she was worried. "How risky is the surgery with the drugs she gave him?"
"Well, they should be metabolized through his system pretty soon. And we need to address your injury," he indicated her shoulder.
"I'm fine, someone can fix me up after I know he's all right," Alex said emphatically.
The head CT was negative and Bobby wakened enough that he was considered a candidate for surgery.
Alex walked alongside him as he was wheeled to pre-op holding.
"You're arm-there's blood on it," he scowled a bit.
"It's nothing, just a scratch," she shook her head.
"Sorry," his expression shut down a bit.
"Not a damn thing to be sorry for," she whispered. "I'm alive and so are you. You warned me, and that saved my life."
"Love you so much," he sighed, tears in his eyes.
"Love you, too, big guy," she kissed him tenderly. "And I'll be right here when you wake up."
"Get your arm fixed," he said drowsily.
"I will," she grinned.
The nurse led her to surgical waiting. But she wouldn't be waiting alone. Captain Hannah was waiting with two IAB detectives.
"Sorry, Alex, held them off as long as I could," Joe said.
"It's all right," Alex sighed, rubbing her aching arm. "Let's get this over with."
"Do you need medical assistance, Detective?" Lieutenant Boyson inquired.
"She does," Dr Delgado interrupted. "Ms Eames, let's find a treatment room. Also, the desk secretary says you've got a boatload of family waiting." He cast a sarcastic eye towards the IAB cops. "You can interrogate her as soon as she gets stitched up."
"Thanks, but I could have answered their questions," Alex said as the doctor snagged a nurse and led her to a treatment room.
"Hey, my dad and brother are NYPD, so I get the IAB. They can wait," he replied.
Once her wound was stitched, she suffered through the debriefing with internal affairs. They collected her clothes as evidence, so the hospital staff loaned her a set of scrubs. Her temper was short, and she was worried about Bobby. "Look, you have our phones, both our guns and the interviews with the rest of the team. You've undoubtedly tossed Goren's apartment. You have about two hundred witnesses who put us in another borough the whole weekend."
"There's no need for attitude, Detective," Sergeant Yokas commented.
"Attitude? An MCS detective is in surgery from wounds inflicted by a prisoner that was allowed to escape DOC custody. I'm tired, worried, and I want to see to my partner and my family," Alex snarked.
"That should be all for the night, Detective," Lieutenant Boyson ended the interview.
Back in the waiting room, Alex found Falacci, Daniels, Johnny, her sister Liz, her brother Patrick, Joe and Sharon Hannah, and Claire McCoy.
Johnny rose and gathered his daughter close, "Alex, you scared us to death." His voice shook with emotion.
"I'm all right, Dad," she assured him. "Got the Eames constitution." She brushed her hand across her eyes. "It's Bobby that needs our prayers right now."
As if he heard her words, the surgeon, Dr Yi, came into the room. "Are you Robert Goren's family?"
"We are," Johnny held onto his daughter's arm.
"He came through the surgery just fine. The laceration was very clean, so it was mostly a matter of rejoining the layers of tissue. We'll keep him until morning, then he can be discharged," the surgeon assured them. "Any questions?"
"Can I see him?" Alex asked.
"He'll be in recovery for about an hour, then yes. He may be groggy, with not a lot of memory of the event, because of the medication he was injected with," he explained.
"You should go home and get some rest, Alex. We can be here for Bobby," Joe said kindly.
"I'll rest better knowing he's in arm's reach," she replied, sinking into a chair.
"Just keep your mouth shut, I came to finish what I started," the voice hissed in his ear.
"You can't have her, we waited so long," Bobby murmured. "See you dead first."
Alex woke to his voice; he was thrashing about the bed. She was out of her chair like a shot, "It's okay, Bobby, you're having a nightmare."
His eyes fluttered open, and he clutched her arm, "You're alive, she didn't hurt you."
"Of course not," she stroked his cheek.
"Seemed so real, she tied me up...did that happen?" he was puzzled.
"Yeah, but it's all over now," she sighed.
"But I have to know," he insisted.
"What do you remember?" Alex gave him a few ice chips to moisten his lips.
He sucked on the coolness gratefully, then said, "I dropped you off at home, then it gets...spotty. Thought it was Nicole, then figured out...Jo. She said..." his eyes closed. "She said she was going to kill you, and make me watch."
"Oh, sweetheart," she tried to keep the tears at bay.
"I heard a shot, maybe two? I dunno," he groaned. "Then lots of voices, Joe's, yours...what happened?"
Alex rubbed her hands over her face, "Jo escaped custody Saturday morning. She somehow got into your apartment, drugged you, tied you up and threatened to shoot me."
"How...how did you get there?" he still looked confused.
Her answer was forestalled by the night nurse, Hope, "Mr Goren, you're awake. How are you feeling?"
"My neck hurts," he finally realized, trying to pull at the bandage.
"No, no, don't touch," Hope warned. "You have a pretty big cut there, and a knot on your head."
"Fucking great," he muttered.
"Are you nauseated?" Hope checked his vital signs, readjusted the dressing.
"No, my head hurts and I'm thirsty," he replied.
"You can have a bit of water, and a pain pill," the nurse assured him.
"No drugs," he shook his head impatiently. "An ice pack, if you got it."
"Tough guy, huh? I'll be right back," she left the room.
"Well?" he looked over at Alex.
"The captain tried to warn us, but we had our phones off. You must have gotten one of his messages and called me, to warn me...then the call cut off in the middle," she steadied her voice. "That had to be the longest fucking drive of my life."
"What did you do, storm the place?" he asked.
"Pretty much," she grinned.
"Then what about the gunshots?" Bobby pressed.
"Bobby, I-um, Jo shot at me when I came in the door," she began.
"Were you hit?" he sat up in the bed.
"Don't pull out your IV, damn it," she scolded. "Just a little graze, took a whole seven stitches in my shoulder, see?"
He strained to look at the band aid, "Thank God. But the other shot..."
"When the calvary stormed your apartment, she tried to slit your throat," Alex gulped. "I shot her. I'm sorry she hurt you...before I could get a shot off."
"She's dead?" he asked, rubbing her arm.
"Yeah," she let the tears spill over. "I should have been quicker."
"You saved my life, Alex," he was incredulous.
"IAB took a slightly...dimmer view of my actions," she sniffled.
"Get up here," he grabbed her hand.
"The nurse will be right back," she scowled.
"She can find her own man," he insisted.
"Crazy," she muttered, but eased the side-rail down and carefully snuggled next to him.
"Heard that before," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple.
The nurse returned to find them soundly asleep, her patient's arm thrown over his partner's waist. She put the ice pack on his neck and left the room.
Too soon, sunlight woke Alex. She felt stiff and sore, and twisted her neck gingerly. What the hell? Yesterday's events came rushing back, and she panicked when she realized she was alone in the hospital bed. "Bobby?"
He emerged from the bathroom, dragging the IV pump. "I'm right here, baby."
She sat up and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, "Jesus, scared me for a minute." She looked closely at him. There was a nasty bruise on his left cheekbone, and there was more bruising on his neck, where the dressing ended. "Should you be up?"
"Hauling this thing to the john is better than the urinal," he gave an impatient wave. "Besides, figured I'd better look alive for my IA dressing down." He took a seat in the chair next to the bed.
"IA, shit, I'd better get out of this bed," Alex said, leaning over to put her arms around him. She pressed her face into his gray curls, letting a few tears fall.
Bobby returned her embrace, fighting a sense of remorse that he had brought more turmoil into her life.
As if reading his mind, she raised her head and shook his shoulders lightly, "Hey, you'd better not be blaming yourself for this."
"But I do, all these people from my past, trying to..." he was cut off by her hand over his mouth.
"Jo is dead, and we're alive. No one else will have to suffer at her hands. It's over," she said firmly.
"But your nightmares, your PTSD," he protested.
"Oh, I expect they'll be around, but I'll go to therapy, and so will you. And we have each other," Alex stroked his scalp, trying to avoid the bumps.
"I must've done something right, to have you," he pressed his face into her chest.
A knock at the door made them jump. The day charge nurse, Betty, cleared her throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but there are some detectives here. Are you up to that?"
"I am," Bobby nodded. "Just give us a minute."
Alex moved away from him, and folded the blanket that had fallen on the floor, "They're going to make me leave, I know the drill."
He patted her butt and gave her an encouraging grin, "Not anything I can't handle. Go get me a real breakfast," he pointed to the yogurt and fruit on his tray.
Alex shook her head, laughing as she grabbed the food. "Be back in a bit," she blew him a kiss.
Once in the hallway, she took the back exit, away from the waiting area where the IA suits sat. She located a bank of elevators, and headed for the coffee shop. She found a seat in the corner booth, and ordered a large coffee to supplement the fruit and yogurt. She pawed through her purse, then realized that her phone was still with IA. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.
"My sentiments exactly," Captain Hannah took the seat across from her. "Good morning, Detective."
"Is it?" she tore open three packets of sugar and dumped into the steaming cup. "IA is upstairs with Bobby, no doubt tearing him a new asshole."
"They may be a little up close and personal with him," he acknowledged as he bit into a bagel. "But I think he can handle it."
Upstairs, the IA detectives were drilling Detective Goren, but he was holding up well. The few hours of rest had restored some of his memory and he recounted those succinctly.
"So Ms Gage confessed to the murder of Jean Dalton?" Lieutenant Boyson reiterated.
"Yes, she did," Bobby affirmed. "She also threatened my life and that of Detective Eames."
Sergeant Yokas asked, "How did the suspect gain access to your residence?"
Bobby shook his head, "Don't know. I was away for the weekend, my partner's niece got married."
"When was the last time you were home?" Boyson asked.
He closed his eyes, considering, "Uh, Saturday afternoon, maybe 12:30. Left to get a haircut about ten, ran another errand, then came back to leave my dry cleaning in the bedroom. Nothing seemed out of place at that time. Grabbed my overnight bag and then headed over to the church."
"And you didn't return until Sunday afternoon?" Yokas' tone was slightly incredulous.
"I stayed at the Marriott. It was a wedding dance, lots of drinking. Seemed more prudent to stay over than drive," Bobby said pointedly.
"Uh huh," The IA detectives exchanged a glance.
Boyson cleared his throat, "Uh, we noticed there were signs of a woman living in your apartment."
"And?" Bobby's tone was guarded.
"The clothes didn't belong to Ms Gage?" Yokas asked.
"Hell no," he was angry now. "Look, I'm in a relationship with a woman. Last I checked, that isn't noteworthy."
"Can this woman verify?" the sergeant pressed.
"She can, but I'm not telling you who she is. It's irrelevant," Bobby shot back.
Yokas rolled her eyes, "Detective, we decide what's relevant."
Boyson shook his head at his partner, "Detective Eames statement, the CSU reports and the wits all verify the sequence of events. We appreciate you speaking with us this morning."
Back in the coffee shop Alex spooned up a bit of yogurt. "Right," she said darkly. "So, do we have to worry about filing for unemployment?"
He chuckled, "No, it was a good shoot. You may even get a commendation."
Alex barked out a sarcastic laugh, "I just want us to keep our jobs."
"Off the record, you did the city a favor. IA will talk to your partner, the shoot will be judged justifiable, end of story," he leaned forward earnestly.
"Except that Bobby's apartment is a crime scene, and we both got to be guests of this fine establishment," she countered.
"Seriously, Alex. It's all over but the paperwork," Joe said.
"Bobby is blaming himself," Alex took a hefty bite of melon.
"Wouldn't be Bobby if he didn't," Joe chuckled.
"I forget, you've known him a long time," she sighed, leaning back.
"The therapy thing, I think it has helped him. And the department is going to make you both sit down for a few sessions. Protocol for officer-involved incidents," he reminded her.
"I don't have a problem with that, and neither will he," she said emphatically.
Hannah handed her the keys to her car, "Uniforms left it in the One PP garage, thought you'd like it back. It's in valet parking, on me."
"Thanks," she said. "And if I didn't say so last night, I-we are grateful that you and Sharon were there."
"No problem," Joe scarfed the last bite of bagel. "How long before Bobby gets sprung from this joint?"
"After lunch, I guess," Alex glanced at the clock. "I need to find him something for him to wear home. I doubt IA has released his apartment," she added dourly.
"You could probably get in to get some clothes for him," Hannah said. "There's still a uniform posted there, since we sort of trashed the door." He snapped his phone open and made a call. "There you go."
"Thanks," she smiled.
"If Bobby needs a place to stay, Sharon has the guest room ready," Joe said.
"I think he'll be fine with me," Alex replied evenly.
"Alex...with IA looking into your lives, uh, that..." he broke off awkwardly.
"Might be a bad idea? Sorry, he's not going out of my sight. I'm the only family he has.
If the department has a problem with it, too bad," she challenged him.
"Understood," he assented.
Alex got up to leave, again expressing her appreciation for his concern. She retrieved her car and headed to Bobby's, taking the street behind as there were still a few news trucks parked in front of the building. She stuffed her hair under a ball cap, and slipped into the back entrance. She badged the uniform and was granted access.
Once inside, her stomach roiled at the stench of old blood. Bobby's overnight bag lay near the door. She picked it up, taking in the place she'd looked on as a second home. The chairs were tipped over, blood and brain matter were sprayed on the wall and over the worn sofa and coffee table. A sanguinary pool congealed on the rug. The zip ties and duct tape were discarded nearby, along with wrappers from the medical supplies. Fingerprint dust covered every conceivable surface.
Alex stepped into the bedroom and kicked the door shut. She dumped the dirty clothes in the hamper and opened the dresser drawers, throwing jeans, a sweater, socks, underwear and shoes into the bag. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dresser. Her hair was a mess, strands poking from the ball cap. There was a smudge of blood on the wrinkled green scrub top she wore, probably from the abrasion on her shoulder. Blue-black smudges under her eyes spoke to her lack of sleep. There was a brassy taste in her mouth, and she was dying for a shower. Shaking her head, she went to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of toiletries. She gathered the dry-cleaning, still on the bed, and flung it over her arm. With what he kept at her place, this would tide him over until the apartment was no longer a crime scene.
"Now, you can resume normal activities in another day or two. The steri strips will need to stay on for a week, and you want to avoid getting them wet for 48 hours. You want to avoid operating a motor vehicle or major decisions for 24 hours." The nurse went on to explain the rest of the discharge instructions as Bobby scarfed the breakfast that Alex brought him: eggs, bacon, hash browns and coffee. The nurse asked them if they had questions. "No, ma'am," Bobby answered, and signed the papers with a flourish. "Do I have to ride in that?" he indicated the wheelchair.
"No, but we do need to escort you to the exit," the nurse replied. "Lindsey, our tech, can walk you out."
Bobby settled back in the seat with a sigh of relief, as Alex maneuvered the car out of the hospital lot and headed towards Forest Hills.
"How'd it go with IA?" she asked, after a silence.
"Not bad," he said. After a beat, he added. "They-uh, asked about the woman who obviously lived with me."
"Oh," she said. "So, are we outed?"
"Nope, told them it was none of their business," he grinned.
"You could have told them," she chided.
"Like I said, none of their business," he chuckled.
She laughed outright, "More fun to torture them, huh?"
"You know me too well," he agreed. "So, what's the state of my apartment?"
Alex groaned, "Looks like your typical crime scene decimation. Door busted, print dust everywhere..." she bit her lip. "I've probably have trashed your rug and couch for good."
"It's okay, they weren't worth much anyway," he assured her, squeezing her hand.
"I need a shower in the worst way," Bobby commented as they walked in to Alex's apartment.
"Me, too," she agreed. "But we have to figure out a way to keep this from getting wet," she fingered the bandage on his neck.
"And what about yours?' he touched her shoulder.
"Tell you what, I'll fill the tub, and I'll wash your hair for you. You can just tip your head back and I'll use a pitcher or something to rinse it," she smiled.
"And you'll join me," he tugged at her shirt.
"Now I know you're all right, wanting me naked," she laughed.
"Glad that you're alive," he pulled her into his arms, shaking. "I can't tell you what I'd have done..."
"When I saw her holding the scalpel to your neck...it was all my worst nightmares come to life," she admitted, starting to cry.
"Sorry, so sorry, my love," he rained kisses on her cheeks, his own tears mixing with hers.
"No more 'sorries.' She's out of our lives, can't hurt anyone else," she tugged at the hem of his sweatshirt.
In the bath, Alex carefully washed Bobby's hair, her heart twisting at the bumps and bruises. When that was done, she disrobed and climbed in.
"Now I get to do you," he chuckled, reaching for the pitcher and the shampoo.
"Feels really good," she murmured as he wove soapy fingers through her tresses.
"As good as the chair in a certain hotel room?" his hands wandered down to cup her breasts, tweak her nipples.
"Almost," her breath hitched as he moved lower. "God, Bobby."
"Hmm?" his tongue tickled her ear. "Like that?"
She rose and turned, straddling him, "No, like this," she impaled herself on his erection.
"Alex, love you," he groaned, trying to raise his hips.
"Let me..." she gasped against his lips, "love you," she tightened her muscles around him and set the pace.
Water splashed out of the tub, and as their slippery bodies moved together. Their release was quiet, and the moments after felt almost sacred. They lay in the cooling water, reluctant to break the spell.
The outside world had other ideas. The phone started to ring, with messages from the Eames family, Claire, Resa, Lewis, Jimmy Deakins.
"Guess playtime is over," Bobby dried Alex off.
"Maybe, maybe not," she grinned as they went into the bedroom. "Could stand a nap," she yawned.
"A clothes-optional nap sounds great," he drew back the covers.
"Let me call some of them back, so we can have some peace," Alex sat on the edge of the bed, while he crawled under the covers.
She dialed her dad first, then Liz. Bobby teasingly ran his fingertips down her spine, frowning at the stitches on her left shoulder.
"No, we don't need anything, Liz. If we're hungry, we can get takeout. We're more tired than hungry, anyway," Alex declared.
The shades were drawn against the bright autumn day, and the couple drifted into an almost stuporous sleep. There would be regrets, nightmares and adjustments to come, but for now, the present was all that mattered.
Sigh. I know this is a short, concentrated chapter, but I wanted to get past the immediacy of the event. Having Alex kill Jo actually came from one of Kathryn's chats. She said that she had always hoped Eames would have to kill Nicole to save Bobby. Since Nicole was dead, I thought it was poetic justice that Alex finish off the evil woman who kidnapped and tried to kill her, and she got to save her Bobby. In chapters to come, there will be angst and guilt, but most of all, a deepening commitment between our heroes. Plus, I didn't want you to think I've given up on this story. I continue to appreciate any and all feedback. Oh, and if anyone knows how to translate the reviews in other languages, let me know. Thanks!