Thanks for your patience in waiting for this next chapter. Not exactly writers block, but more writers impatience. I want to zoom this story along, but my attention to gory detail won't let me. There does have to be an aftermath to these traumatic events, after all. So we will have the angst factor, and a little therapy. But never fear, we have a little adult healing as well. I watched Cloo run 10.7 and 10.8 Friday night. Sniff. Sob. There needs to be more! I don't own them, but I sure do love taking them out to play. Adult content applies.
Bobby woke with a start, disoriented. He glanced at the clock: 5:30 PM. What the hell? Then the memories came rushing back, as well as the pain in his head and neck. He moved gingerly, trying not to wake a sleeping Alex. He ran a fingertip lightly over the stitches in her shoulder, bile rising in his throat. Every muscle in his body hurt as he got up and went to the bathroom. He quietly opened drawers in the bedroom, pulled on some clothes. He found the prescription bottle on the kitchen table, and shook a couple pills into his hand, washing it down with a glass of water. He opened the fridge and considered a beer and dismissed the thought. If not a beer, then at least a smoke. He scrawled a note to Alex and left it on the nightstand.
The weather was cooling off, the crispness of autumn in the air. Leaves crunched under his feet as he walked to the corner bodega.
The young clerk looked concerned as she sold him a couple packs of cigarettes, probably noticing Bobby's wounds.
"You should see the other guy," he said, winking. He lit up as he exited the store, inhaling deeply. The narcotics were numbing his physical discomfort as he walked back to the apartment. However, he struggled with the emotional pain as the events of the last day unspooled in his mind like a choppy movie. The sound of Jo's vitriol, the roar of the gunshots...his fear of losing Alex. He rubbed at his neck, cursing his inability to protect her once again.
His thoughts were dark, and he avoided going back upstairs. He circled around the building, and found a packing crate as a makeshift seat. He puffed away, thinking about Declan, his influence on Jo, and how that impacted his life. Dec had done a lot of positive things for Bobby, but it came at a terrible price. He lost his brother ostensibly through his mentor's actions. If that wasn't bad enough, Gage's poisonous parenting had put Alex's life in danger not once, but twice. It cost Jo her sanity, many innocent lives...and by extension her own life. Bobby lit another smoke, and ruminated on that. He worried about Alex. In spite of her assurances that she was all right, he remembered the toll her kidnapping had taken. PTSD had plagued her for the years since.
Bobby was morose. Why was it, when his life with Alex was so happy, that fate or karma came in and slapped them up side the head? He thought about the beer in the fridge and the liquor bottles in the kitchen cupboard. Maybe he just needed to shut his brain down.
Alex rolled over, and encountered Bobby's pillow but no Bobby. She sat up, instantly awake. There was a note in his familiar scrawl, on the nightstand. "Out for a breath of fresh air." Right. That usually meant he was out back having a smoke. Her conscience smote her. If anyone deserved indulging a vice, it was her partner.
She got up stiffly, scowling at the ache in her shoulder. She fumbled through the dresser and found underwear and sweats. After a stop in the bathroom to take car of necessities, dress and brush her teeth, she went in search of Bobby. Sure enough, he was in the back alley, perched on an old packing crate, puffing away.
"Did you sleep?" she asked softly, pressing a kiss on the uninjured side of his neck.
"I did," he crushed out the butt under his foot. "Got up about an hour ago," he squinted up at the last vestiges of daylight.
"You could've woke me," Alex leaned against him.
He smiled gently, running his fingers through her hair, "You looked so peaceful, I didn't have the heart. Besides, I've had a lot more sleep than you the past 24 hours," he finished bitterly.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, concerned.
"Like a truck hit me," he admitted, after a beat.
"Will get better," she pressed her forehead to his.
"Sure," Bobby was unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Alex took a deep breath, "Before you consider torturing yourself over this, remember: she's dead, and we're alive. And if she'd succeeded in killing you, my life...would have been over. I lost one man in my life, and I don't plan on losing another. Are we clear?"
He lit up another cigarette, and considered her words, "You're getting bossy in your old age, you know that?"
"Who are you calling old?" she grinned. "I plan on being 39 for another ten, fifteen years."
He grabbed her hand, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.
"I love you, Bobby. Nothing else matters right now," she whispered.
He still didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around her tightly.
Back in her apartment, Bobby leafed through the takeout menus in the kitchen, "So, what will it be? Pizza? Chinese? Thai? Deli? Burgers?"
"Um, what about sushi?" she asked innocently, knowing that was not among his favorites.
"Live squid," he countered, narrowing his eyes.
"Okay, pizza," she decided.
"With salad and breadsticks, extra marinara," he agreed, dialing the phone.
She set the table with paper plates and opened a couple beers, "Wait, did you take one of these?" she shook the bottle of pills.
He took a healthy swig from the bottle," Nope, I took two."
"Jesus, you shouldn't..." she stopped. "I'll shut up now."
"It was hours ago, probably worn off," he assured her.
He downed one beer and opened another, letting the buzz settle him, "I gotta call Gyson in the morning, set up an appointment."
"And I need to call Olivet," Alex sipped more slowly on her beer. "See if I can get in tomorrow, so I can go back to work Wednesday."
Bobby nodded, "Sounds like a plan."
"Hey, I was talking me, not you," she shook her head.
"The instructions said I could go back in a couple days," he reminded her. "Besides, you know we'll both be riding a desk for a while."
"I guess," she said reluctantly.
"Look at it this way, you can keep an eye on me much better at work," he gave her a lopsided smile as he finished his second beer. "Another?"
"Sure," she went to the fridge and pulled out another bottle. "Here."
"Water?" he groused.
"You can have another when the food gets here," she bargained.
"Maybe I can change your mind," Bobby grabbed at her butt.
Alex laughed, "Quit the puppy dog eyes, it will get you nowhere."
Once the food came, their appetites were surprisingly good, helped along by the rest of the six pack of beer.
"Great dinner, babe," he lounged on the sofa, Alex laying on top of him.
"Secret family recipe," she giggled.
They dozed lightly, the TV volume on low.
About eight, the phone rang. Alex sighed and turned her head, snuggling against Bobby's chest.
"Phone," he muttered.
"I know, I'm ignoring it," she rubbed her nose on his shirt.
"Might be your family," Bobby yawned.
"Pretty sure it is," Alex mumbled.
Sure enough, it was her brother Jack, "Damn it, Alex, I know you're there. Dad said Bobby's place is a crime scene. Pick up." Click.
Next call was from her sister in law, Darla, "Hey, Lex, know you're probably resting. Liz and I talked and we're planning on bringing meals this week. Give us a ring with what times work best for you and Bobby."
"God, call her back," Bobby shook her lightly.
"Why?" she groaned.
"Free homemade food," he was awake now.
"I can cook!" she said indignantly, lifting her head.
"But if we're going back to work Wednesday, it'd save you so much work," he backpedaled.
"Nice save," she scowled and climbed off of him.
She returned Darla's call, "Yes, we'll be here this week for sure. Uh huh. We're so grateful...Really not necessary...call you tomorrow...bye."
They both slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning, finally giving up on bed at five thirty.
"Call Liz, she makes great cinnamon rolls," Bobby suggested as they stumbled into the kitchen.
"The bakery makes better ones, and it's only two miles away," she enticed. "Feel like a run?"
"I think so," he sighed, coughing.
"And maybe cut back the smokes?" she pleaded.
"I'll do my best," he tugged at a strand of her hair.
"That's good enough for me," she grinned.
The air was crisp, with the autumn smell of crisp leaves and smoke from a few fireplaces. The endorphins washed away some of the aches and fatigue. The early hour meant they were the first customers at the bakery, and they sipped on steaming coffee between bites of warm cinnamon rolls.
"Damn, I miss my phone," Alex grumbled.
"Maybe we can get them back from IA today," he agreed.
The rest of their morning was taken up with calls to therapists, family, friends, and to the captain. He agreed to retrieve their phones, and said he'd stop by later in the day with them.
Dr Gyson fit Bobby in at four that afternoon. Bobby took the train, wanting some think time before meeting his therapist.
She was taken aback by her patient's appearance as he took a seat. The bruising was still evident, and the dressing was stark white against his neck. He was pale, quiet.
"You've had a traumatic weekend," she said, by way of opening.
"Didn't start out that way," Bobby rubbed at his neck gingerly.
"Tell me about that?" she inquired.
"Alex's niece got married, and we...it was nice. Stayed at a hotel, did the couple thing," he smiled briefly.
"And then?" she prompted.
"And then the psychotic daughter of my mentor escaped custody and tried to kill Alex and me," he said sarcastically. "A real buzz kill, as the kids say."
"How did that make you feel?" Gyson queried.
"How the fuck do you think I feel?" he got up and roamed the room, his anger palpable.
"You need to tell me, Robert," she said firmly.
"Guilty, pissed off and helpless," Bobby shot back.
"Good, you're giving voice to those feelings," she praised.
"I've made so much progress," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "The one person I care about more than anything, and I almost get her killed."
"What happened?" her tone was acutely confrontational.
"Jo Gage broke into my apartment while I was gone. She clocked me on the head and drugged me," he said.
"And Alex was with you?" she asked.
"No, uh, I left her at her place. She had a headache, was a little hung over," he recalled. "We had shut our phones off, so we didn't get the word Jo was out. I guess I got my messages when I was going in the door at my place, and called Alex to warn her," he closed his eyes.
"You guess?" she wondered.
"Between being knocked out and the drugs...I don't really remember much," Bobby admitted.
"How did you get the wound on your neck?" Gyson asked.
He closed his eyes, "Jo did it when Alex wouldn't give up her gun. She shot at her with one hand, had a scalpel to my neck with the other."
"And Alex, was she hurt?" Gyson fought the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Her shoulder...the bullet just grazed. Alex...shot Jo to save me," Bobby dropped heavily onto the couch.
"And Jo is dead," Gyson finished.
"Yeah," he said. "And how was your weekend?"
"A lot of trauma for you both," she ignored his sarcasm. "Is Alex getting some counseling?"
"Yes, she's seeing Olivet tomorrow," Bobby scrubbed his hands over his face. "So, Doc, back to square one?"
"Oh, I don't know about that," she demurred. "The man who walked into this office five months ago wouldn't have been so forthcoming."
"Feels like I'm back to where I was then," he admitted.
"I won't sugarcoat-this is a setback. And we have a lot of work to do to get past this," Gyson was blunt. "Sessions twice a week. Medication for anxiety, maybe something to help you sleep." She reached for a prescription pad.
He stood up angrily, waving her away, "I don't want any drugs!"
"For the short term," Gyson looked at him sharply. "Because self medication with alcohol is not in your best interest."
He took the slips of paper reluctantly.
Alex opened the door to Captain Hannah.
"Did I come at a bad time?" he glanced around the living room as he sat down.
"No, my sister in law just brought dinner," she smiled. "Want something to drink?"
"Just here to bring back your phones and update you on the investigation. Bobby around?" he wondered.
"At the shrink's office," she replied, plopping on the couch. "He should be back in a little while."
"You get an appointment made, detective?" he queried.
"Tomorrow morning at eight," she answered. "I should be in the office about nine thirty or so."
"And your partner?" Joe asked.
"I suspect he'll be at his desk at the crack of dawn," she said wryly.
He sighed, "The desk is where you'll both be until you're cleared by IA and medical."
Alex nodded, "We know."
They were interrupted by Bobby's key turning in the lock.
"Hey, Joe," Bobby shook his hand.
"Good to see you up and around, man," Joe said sincerely.
"Are you sure you don't want to call Sharon and have her join us? There's enough food in the kitchen to feed an army," Alex invited.
"No, thanks. I'm meeting her for dinner," he declined.
The door was barely shut behind him, when Alex wrapped her arms around Bobby and kissed him. "God, I wanted to do that the second you came in the door."
Bobby laughed, "You could have, I wouldn't mind."
"Right, in front of the boss," she said wryly.
"Aw, hell, don't you think he hasn't figured it out?" he murmured into her hair.
"I just am not interested in rocking the proverbial boat right now," she gave him another kiss. "How was your session?"
"She thinks I'm nuts," he said sardonically.
"Christ," she breathed, shoving his chest lightly.
"It was okay," he kissed the top of her head, and moved into the kitchen. "Something smells really good."
"Some kind of chicken pot pie with cheesy biscuit topping, fruit salad, and chocolate chip cookies," Alex followed in his wake.
"Great!" he opened the oven. "Is it done yet?"
"Yes, here're the potholders," she answered. "What do you want to drink? Darla brought a bottle of Chablis."
"Then wine it is," he set the steaming dish on the already-set table.
Over dinner, Bobby avoided the heavier subjects of the past couple days, and instead talked about how excited he was to be going back to work in the morning.
Alex decided not to force the issue, hoping that he would share when he was ready. Between them, they finished the bottle of wine. "Lord, I need to run around the borough after all that," she sat back in the chair, rubbing her stomach.
"It was starting to rain when I came in earlier," Bobby rose from his chair and took her hand. "Maybe..." he drug the syllables out, "we can find an indoor activity to burn those calories."
"Hmm, I kinda like that idea," she giggled.
He pushed her up against the counter, lifting her shirt, nuzzling her neck, "My favorite dessert," he murmured, licking the soft skin behind her ear.
She felt a pleasant tickle from his touch and the wine coursing through her veins, "Want to take this to the bedroom?"
"In a bit," he whispered, pushing her jeans over her hips. His fingers danced in the waistband of her panties, teasing and pulling back.
"I know this game," Alex breathed, searching for the snap and zipper on his jeans, her small hand reaching inside.
His breath hissed, "You certainly do."
"Maybe the bed is overrated," she agreed as his hands moved up and unhooked her bra, his fingertips caressing her nipples.
"We can save that for round two," he lifted her onto the counter, and stroked between her thighs.
Alex moaned at his leisurely seduction, "Bobby, that feels...too...much..."she shuddered.
He guided himself inside her, the pleasure washing away the bitterness at least temporarily. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her legs wrapped around his waist, the sounds of their bodies moving together...better than any drug known to man.
"Mmm, nice choice to work off those calories," she chuckled as she slid off the counter and reached for her discarded jeans.
"You don't need those," he grabbed the garment out of her hands.
"So, you want me to clean up the kitchen in my panties?" she countered.
"Nice view while I help you," Bobby picked up her bra and shirt.
"Says the man who has most of his clothes on," she retorted.
"Then strip me," he extended his arms. "I promise I won't even put up a fight."
Further discussion was forestalled by the ring of the doorbell, "Were we expecting company?" he inquired as Alex snatched the clothes from his hand and hastily dressed.
"No, what kind of guests show up on a night like this?" she snarked.
"Rude ones," he kissed her cheek. "I'll get the door if you need a minute to...gather your thoughts."
"You'd better gather yours first," she ran a hand over his open fly as the bell rang yet again.
Alex went to the door and opened it to Jack and Maeve, "Hey, I thought you'd still be recovering from the weekend," she greeted them.
Jack gathered his sister into a bear hug, "We were in the neighborhood having dinner and thought we'd check on you."
Bobby invited them in, "That was really nice."
"Bobby and I were just cleaning up the kitchen. Darla brought us dinner," Alex sat on the arm of Bobby's chair while Jack and Maeve sat on the couch.
"Her pot pie," Maeve nodded. "I signed up for Sunday, pot roast and vegetables."
"The Eames family version of the Red Cross," Alex sighed. "Is Liz the chairwoman?"
"Of course," Maeve looked anxious. "She was terrified for both of you, and wants to make your recovery as stress-free as possible. We all do."
"I will never turn down pot roast," Bobby grinned. "Forgive our bad manners, would like something to drink? Beer? Soda?"
"I wouldn't mind a beer, if it's no trouble," Jack admitted.
"Not at all. Maeve?" he inquired.
"A diet soda would be great, thanks," she smiled.
Alex got up and grabbed Bobby's hand, "Help me with the drinks, sweetie?"
"Happy to," he knew by her sugary tone that he was in for it.
"Really, Bobby?" she said under her breath as she got the drinks.
"Extending your family hospitality," he grinned as he popped the tops on a couple beers and put ice in glasses for Maeve and Alex's sodas.
"Bite me," she muttered.
"Later," he whispered.
Whether it was the alcohol, or their little post-dinner interlude, Bobby was the charming host. He avoided from the subject of their attack, instead engaging Jack and Maeve in conversation about the wedding and reception.
Alex was quiet, marveling at his ability to switch gears so seamlessly. She knew he'd had a difficult session with Gyson. And the return to work tomorrow was going to be rough, for both of them.
It was after eleven when Bobby closed the door behind their guests.
"Finally," Alex huffed.
"They were worried," he kissed the top of her head.
"I know," she said, a little guilty.
"What, were you afraid I'd be too tired for round two?" he asked slyly.
She cursed his ability to pick up a thought, even hours after the fact, "I'm afraid I'll oversleep for my appointment with Olivet in the morning."
"You won't, I promise," he assured her as they tidied the kitchen.
"I know, Mr Up-at the-crack of-dawn," Alex set the timer on the coffee maker.
"We can leave round two for tomorrow night," he said, switching off the lights.
"I am pretty tired," she admitted as she pulled the covers back on the bed.
"So'm I," he slurred slightly as he crawled in beside her.
"Did you take a pain pill?" she fretted.
"Yeah, just one," Bobby admitted.
"Mixing the drugs with the alcohol is not very smart," Alex couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice.
He stiffened a bit and said, "It'll help me sleep."
She bit her lip, blinking back unexpected tears. She snuggled close to him and pressed a kiss to his lips, "I love you."
"Love you too," he whispered, then turned on his side away from her.
Alex put her arm around his waist and spooned against him. Within minutes, his breathing evened out and his body relaxed. Tired as she was, her brain wouldn't shut up. She found herself anxiously listening for Bobby's breathing, worried about the self-medicating he was doing. Usually the rain pelting against the windows soothed her, but not tonight. The wine she'd consumed earlier made her restless, thirsty. And then there was her morning appointment with Olivet. She'd spent her waking hours staying busy, not thinking too much about Sunday's events. But now, with only her thoughts for company, the memories came rushing back. Her heart pounded as she realized 'What if?'
What if Jo hadn't missed when she aimed the gun? She could have had a bullet in her head instead of a few lousy stitches in her shoulder. And Bobby...she shuddered. A few millimeters and he could have died, bled out before help arrived. She eased out from under the covers, padded out to the kitchen, poured a large glass of ice water, downed it quickly, and got another. She went into the bathroom, shut the door and turned the tub taps on, adding lavender oil to the steaming water. Alex left the light off, sipping the icy water while she willed herself to relax.
After an hour in the bath, she got up and wrapped herself in a buttery soft robe, an extravagance from a few years back. She curled up on the couch, a cup of hot tea at her elbow, the TV on low. She finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
Bobby woke before the alarm, reaching over to shut it off so he wouldn't wake Alex. He was still a little foggy, but aware enough to realize he was alone in the bed. He had a vague feeling that he had upset her last night. He got up and stumbled into the bathroom, frowning at the bandage on his neck. He peeled the edges of adhesive back, revealing the yellowing bruise, steri strips covering the incision. After a shower and careful shave, he dressed in a turtleneck instead of his usual shirt and tie, pulled on his pants and shrugged into a jacket.
The smell of coffee lured him into the kitchen, and he poured two mugs, generously sugaring one. Bobby brought her mug to the living room, waving it under her nose.
"Mmm," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"Did you sleep out here all night?" he regarded her soberly.
"Must have," she yawned and struggled more upright.
"Did you have a nightmare?" he stroked her hair.
"No, just couldn't shut my brain up," she sighed.
"Are we all right?" he blurted.
She looked over at him, "I guess so. I just...the self-medicating thing. Worries me."
He case his eyes downward, "I know. Trying to keep my head above water."
Alex took a healthy sip of coffee, "You can talk to me, Bobby."
Words stuck in his throat. He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek.
"Hey, you shaved," she smiled.
"Thought it might be a nice gesture for my partner, first day back at work and all," Bobby cracked.
"You're sweet," Alex leaned against the couch cushions.
"Alex, you don't have to go back to work today if you don't feel like it," he rubbed her thigh.
"Yes, I do," she said firmly.
"Stubborn," he sighed.
"Look who's talking," she fired back. Softening her tone, she added. "We need to keep each other out of trouble, don't we?"
"Guess so," he rose and kissed her lightly. "See you later."
After the door clicked closed, she got up and headed for the bedroom. She scowled as she picked up Bobby's jeans, carelessly discarded from the night before. She saw a flutter of blue fall from his pocket, and unfolded it. She read the two prescriptions, and realized he hadn't any intentions of filling them. Oh, well-she'd drop them off on her way to work. She hit the shower. Stinging hot water and another cup of coffee later, and she was ready to go. She eschewed her usual run in favor of seeing Dr Olivet.
Alex began the session with little preamble, "Been a pisser of a week."
Olivet nodded, "I've heard."
"What, through the press or my employer?" Alex snarked.
"Both," the doctor replied. "How about you tell me about it."
She snorted, "The Cliff notes version is that Jo Gage tried to kill Bobby and me, so I shot her dead."
The therapist leaned forward in her chair, "That was Sunday. How about the days since? How are you coping?"
"Booze and sex," Alex retorted.
"Detective..." Olivet groaned.
"Okay, this is how I feel. I feel nothing for Jo, other than total contempt. She's dead, so she can't ever hurt us again. Haven't had a nightmare. I try not to think about what would have happened if she had succeeded in killing us. I am more worried about Bobby. He feels guilty for putting me in harm's way," Alex got up and paced the room. "That-the Gage family might never loosen their hold on him."
"He told you that?" the doctor asked.
"The guilt part, yeah. But he's...he's falling back on his old coping habits...drinking, smoking too much, that worries me more than anything," Alex bit her lip.
"And you are using your tough act to cover your own emotions," Olivet confronted her. "The use of deadly force, even justified force, is still a dreadful part of your job. It takes a toll."
"I know it does," she replied. "But if I hadn't shot her, it is likely that Bobby and I would both be dead. As I told him, I lost one husband to this job, I don't plan on losing another."
"You referred to Bobby as your husband," Olivet countered.
"Freudian slip," Alex sighed, picking at a cuticle. "But it did bring back some of those...fears."
"And those fears are a normal part of who you are, Alex. You can try to bury them, ignore, them, but they are still there," the therapist reminded her. "Addressing them now is vital to your own health and well-being."
"I know," her voice was barely above a whisper.
After setting up a few extra appointments, and brushing off the possibilities of medication, Alex walked into the crisp October morning. The rain from the night before had moved on, leaving a few puffy clouds in a crystal blue sky. The trees were turning beautiful colors. All in all, a nice autumn day. She maneuvered the car into traffic, planning a stop for coffee and Bobby's favorite danish.
Bobby rubbed at his itchy neck, cursing his decision to wear the turtleneck. He put his binder on his desk, and glanced around the bullpen. Only a few of his colleagues were there at this early hour, so he could immerse himself into work without distraction. He flipped open his laptop and logged in to his work email account. Lots of messages, some from IA, the PBA, and one from the chief of D's. He diligently read through them, noting with some surprise that there were several messages of support from his fellow officers.
The office came to life as the clock crawled towards eight thirty. Coworkers stopped by his desk to greet him, express surprise at his quick return, and worst of all, praise him for his role in ending Jo Gage's reign of terror. He acknowledged them as gracefully as possible, but was relieved when Captain Hannah entered the squad and waved them off. "Detective, in my office."
Hannah opened a manila envelope and pulled out Bobby's gun, "You've been cleared by the suits. Your apartment will be released later today, if you want to go clean things up."
"No, it can wait," Bobby shook his head.
"And if you need help with that, I'm available. Detectives Rich, Daniels, Falacci...they all have offered," Joe continued.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "Um, Alex's family, they've offered, too."
"You're both on desk until Monday, then you're back on full duty, pending written approval from psych services and your surgeon," Hannah added.
Bobby nodded, "That all?"
He handed him a foot-tall stack of files, "Welcome back, Bobby."
"Gee, thanks," he left the office and resumed his seat at his desk. He opened the file in front of him, only to have his desk phone. "Goren."
"What's this bullshit, I have to hear about it from Falacci?" Mike Logan's voice boomed in his ear.
"And how are you, Logan?" Bobby was a bit surprised.
"Seriously, how are you and your partner?" he sounded concerned.
"Spent a few days locked in the loony bin, but they let us out when we didn't mutter and spit," he shot back. "We're fine."
"Anything Gina and I can do for you, just say the word," Mike replied.
"Well, my apartment could use a crime scene cleanup detail," Bobby said, half-jokingly.
He looked up as Alex put a cup of coffee and the danish in front of him. He mouthed his thanks. A few more minutes and he hung up.
"Logan not busy enough running a bar and PI business?" Alex joked, taking some of the files and taking a seat at her desk.
"Evidently not," Bobby took a bite of the pastry. "And I refuse to turn down free labor."
She raised an eyebrow, "So?"
"The apartment will be released this afternoon, and Joe has your gun," he smiled.
"So we're cleared?" she heaved a sigh of relief.
"Yep," he nodded, then lowered his voice, "And how was your morning?"
"All right," she kept her tone light. "Really."
The rest of their day was uneventful. The captain ordered take out Chinese and they had a general office pig-out. Bobby and Alex slowly whittled the backlog of paperwork, returned phone calls and emails. It was nearly six o'clock before they stood up from their desks.
"Are you ready for this?" she asked as she drove to Greenpoint.
"Yeah," he nodded as she pulled into a parking space near his building. "What about you?"
"I was here the other day to get clothes for you," she shrugged. But I didn't look too long or hard, she added silently. "I-uh, found the prescriptions Gyson wrote for you. Took them to Walgreen's to get filled this morning."
"Forgot about it," he said, evading her glance.
"Right," she huffed. "They fell out of your jeans pocket this morning."
"I don't need them," he countered.
"She wrote them for a reason," Alex said quietly.
"I'll get them tomorrow," he gave in with little grace.
The doorway was covered with plywood, and the seal was in place. "At least they took the crime scene tape down," he said dourly. "Better go around back, I guess."
Bobby unlocked the back entrance and preceded Alex into the apartment. His nose was immediately assaulted with the decomposing blood and body fluid. He reached for the light switch, and frowned as his fingers were coated with print dust. "Fuck," he muttered softly, wiping his hand on his pants.
Alex hung back, watching his reaction to the miserable mess.
He was mutely looking at the chair he'd been bound to, the blood on the back, and the zip ties and discarded medical supplies on the floor.
She heard his sharp intake of breath as he saw the splatters and pooling on the floor, furniture, and walls.
Alex stood behind him, fighting a terrible sense of deja vu. She walked into this door just a few days ago, to see Bobby in that chair, with Jo... She glanced to the left, fingering the hole in the door frame. A sudden wave of nausea washed over her and she pushed past Bobby, running towards the bathroom. She didn't even feel the pain as her knees hit the cold tile floor. Her stomach rapidly lost its contents and she retched uncontrollably. Next to her, Bobby was vomiting into the sink.
It was a good twenty minutes before they recovered. Bobby forced his shaking legs the few steps into the hall to get a couple of towels from the linen closet. Wordlessly, he rinsed the sink, and wet both towels, sinking to the floor next to Alex. "Here," he croaked, offering her one.
She took it and scrubbed her face weakly.
Bobby put his head between his knees, trying to quell the ringing in his ears. His home, their home...it wasn't fancy, but there had been some happy times here. Alex's mere presence had made it so. Would they ever feel that again? Once the smell and the mess and the fear...He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn't fight the sudden deep fatigue.
"Put your head here," she whispered.
In the cramped quarters, he did as she asked, closing his eyes as her fingers soothed gently through his gray curls.
Alex propped her back against the tub, afraid to say anything to break the fragile spell between them.
The cold from the tub and the tile floor seeped into them, darkness took over the apartment.
"Hard," she whispered.
"Uh huh," Bobby gulped.
"What...what do you want to do first?" she asked.
"I-uh, get some clothes, the rest...too much to clean up tonight. Got to talk to the super about a new front door, uh, offer to paint..." he felt a roaring in his head.
"New locks?" she wondered.
"Why? She's not coming back!" he looked up at her.
His tone frightened her, and tears ran down her cheeks, "I know, that was...dumb," she blurted.
He took in her pale face, "I'm sorry, baby," he sat up and held her close as she began to sob.
Alex continued to shake as they clung to each other, "Second-home...and she...desecrated...it," the words were wrung from her.
"Give me a minute, and we'll get out of here, okay?" he got stiffly to his feet and offered her his hand. "Do you want to wait in the car?"
"No, now I gotta pee," she admitted ruefully.
He disappeared into the bedroom, ostensibly to get more clean clothes, and retrieve the dirty ones for the laundry and dry cleaner. But the first thing he did was make sure the rings were in their hiding place, deep in the closet. They were. He debated for a minute taking them with him, but decided that if CSU didn't find them, it was probably a safe place. Besides, if he took them to Alex's, the risk of her finding them was that much greater.
Bobby closed the velvet box, and put it back. He pulled the full hamper from the closet, as well as a suitcase and routed through his dresser.
Alex appeared in the doorway, "Let me help."
"Uh, this stuff is clean. Should be enough to get me through the week," he indicated the open suitcase on the rumpled bed.
"We can take the bedding, too," she said. "I'll wash it tomorrow."
"No hurry, can't imagine that this place will be fit to live in before the weekend," he said sarcastically.
"Call in those volunteers for Saturday and Sunday?" she asked.
"Yeah," he cast one last look around. "Ready?"
She picked up the suitcase, while he took the overflowing hamper.
They stopped to talk to the building superintendent, Mr Otis, on the way out. The man was very accommodating, saying that a new door and locks had been ordered. In spite of the recent disaster, Bobby had been a good tenant, and having a resident cop in the building was generally a selling point. The super also said to let him know about needs for cleaning and repairs.
Bobby reassured him that they would be back to return the apartment to order this weekend.
In the car, Alex spoke from a silence, "You missed a golden opportunity back there."
Lost in thought, Bobby asked, "When?"
"Back in the super's apartment. You could have asked for a new oven, counters...cook-top," she teased.
"Not a refrigerator?" he shot back.
"Um, no, I have a rather emotional attachment to that particular appliance," she laughed.
He joined in her merriment, "Ah, yes. I'd hate to explain the fingermarks you left in the door."
"That was some morning, as I recall," she took the turn onto the expressway.
"Sure was," he looked out at the lights of the city. "Guess we'll have to make some new memories."
"We will," she assured him. Any further conversation was forestalled by the ringing of Alex's cell.
Bobby looked at the caller ID and picked up, "Liz. What's up?"
Liz sounded mildly vexed, "What's up is I have your dinner and an ornery seven year old waiting at your door. Where are you?"
"Oh, shit. We're...on our way. Sorry," he hit the end key.
"She's pissed," Alex stated.
"Oh, yeah," he said dourly, then brightened, "At least we don't have to cook."
"And Nate should be good for a little free entertainment," she agreed.
" Bobby, Aunt Alex, I made your dessert! All by myself!" Nate greeted them.
"Great job, little man!" Bobby unlocked the door and shoved hamper of clothes off to the side. "What did you bring us?"
"Strawberry ice cream!" he beamed. "Mom cooked the cream, but I measured it and poured it into the machine, and I washed the berries."
"Homemade?" Alex chortled.
"If it hasn't melted," Liz sighed, setting the insulated bag and picnic basket on the counter.
"Sorry, we stopped by the cri...by Bobby's apartment to get some things, and it took a little longer than we planned," Alex took dishes and silver from the cupboard and set four places at the table. "Is Eric joining us?"
"No, his dad is sick again, so he's running a few errands for his mom," Liz explained. "We didn't plan on staying, Lex."
"Oh, don't be silly," Bobby poured sodas for the adults, and milk for Nate. "Looks like you brought plenty of food.
"Yeah, and I'm hungry," Nate proclaimed, climbing into his chair.
Alex dished out ham-cheddar-broccoli rolls and rice pilaf, and took a seat next to her nephew. Bobby and Liz sat as well, and Nate reached for each of their hands.
"We have to say grace first," he insisted. He recited a rather long-winded prayer, including blessings for his sick grandpa, requests for his upcoming birthday, and... "And God bless Aunt Alex and Uncle Bobby. Amen!" he opened his eyes and dug into his food.
The adults discussed their week in general terms, taking care to keep any references to the events of Sunday night off Nate's radar.
Liz dished up the ice cream, and they slowly savored the fruity coldness.
"This is so good," Alex sighed, licking her spoon. "Do I taste vanilla beans?"
"Um-hmm," Liz nodded.
The apartment was quiet after Liz and Nate left. The dishes were in the dishwasher, and neither Bobby nor Alex felt like turning on the TV. Indeed, their fatigue was returning and an early bedtime seemed to be a good idea.
"Want to get up early and run?" Bobby asked as he set the alarm.
Alex let out a yawn, "Be a good idea."
It was dark, foggy. Bobby turned his head, trying to see where she was. He could hear her voice, but he couldn't see. Why couldn't he see? His arms and legs felt like lead. Alex, oh my God, no! Don't come in the door, she's got a gun...The blast roared next to his ear, the gunpowder stinging his cheek. Alex slumped to the floor, blood trickling from her temple. He tried to scream, but couldn't. He was falling through space, swimming in icy sweat.
"Bobby, Bobby, wake up! Wake up!" Alex was standing over him, shaking his shoulders.
"Dead, she killed you," he muttered, thrashing away from her.
"No, no! Open your eyes, sweetie, I'm right here," Alex climbed astride his thighs and slapped his cheeks lightly.
He squinted in the light from the dresser, "Alex, you're real?"
"Yeah," she pressed her mouth to his, stroking his damp cheeks.
Awareness shoved the nightmare away, and he pulled her tight to his chest. She was warm and soft, her breath on his cheek was sweet.
Alex's nightshirt was soaked in his sweat, and his heart beat crazily under her ear. His hands gripped her shoulders almost painfully. "It was a nightmare," she whispered and lifted her head.
"Seemed so real," he gasped.
"I know," she soothed.
"You were coming in the door, like Sunday, and I tried to warn you...but couldn't make a sound. Then the gun went off and...shot you in the head," Great sobs shook him.
Alex felt her own heart breaking as she tried to comfort him. She better than anyone knew how jarring the night terrors were. She had hoped they would dodge that particular bullet, but it seemed...no. "I'm going to get you some tea, run you a bath."
He squinted at the clock, "It's...two thirty in the morning. Just come back to bed with me."
"Warm chamomile tea, some lavender oil, dry flannel sheets...trust me," she smiled. "And if you talk really nice, I'll even share your bath."
"It all sounds good except that girly lavender," he threw the covers back.
"You know the calming effects of lavender, Mr Source of Useless Knowledge," Alex teased.
"I just don't want to smell like it," he chuckled, stripping off his pants.
"Well, maybe some on a diffuser," she compromised.
Alex rummaged for the essential oil and diffuser, then heated water for the tea while Bobby filled the tub. He slid into the steaming water.
She stripped the sheets off the bed, and replaced them with soft flannel ones.
"Are you coming?" his voice sounded almost plaintive.
"Just bringing the tea," she carefully balanced two mugs on the tub ledge, and climbed in front of him.
"This isn't too bad," he sipped cautiously. "Although a few fingers of Glenlivet..."
"Would have disturbed your REM sleep and dehydrated you," she finished with a yawn.
"Smart-ass," he nuzzled her neck.
"You bet," she snarked.
They managed a few extra hours of sleep, before their morning run and another day of paperwork. Alex went out for a drink with a few girlfriends Thursday night, while Bobby met Lewis and tossed back a few at Mike Logan's bar.
Friday they met with their respective therapists, and finished the stack of files on their desks. As Alex powered down her laptop she said succinctly, "Thirty days."
"Thirty days until?" Bobby asked.
"Thirty days from right now we'll be walking on the beach in San Diego," she smiled.
"Don't you mean, attending a law enforcement conference?" Falacci asked as she passed by their desks.
"Jealous, Nola?" Bobby grinned.
"Are you kidding? Dominick is taking me to Cancun for our wedding anniversary in February. No kids, no work, just sex, sand and lots of sunscreen," she retorted.
Early Saturday morning Bobby and the building super, Mr Otis, took a crowbar to the plywood securing the front entrance to the apartment. The clean up team, comprised of friends and family then went to work. Alex and Bobby were adamant that the initial sweep would be done by their law enforcement family and friends, to avoid traumatizing the civilian complement. First order of business was to open the windows to let air flow through, in spite of the chilly day. The bloody couch was hauled to a waiting truck, and the carpet was rolled, wrapped and discarded as well. The walls and floor were scrubbed free of the old blood and brain matter. Next, the fingerprint dust was addressed. Alex sent her sisters to the corner laundromat to wash the stray dirty linens and clothes.
By early afternoon, the surface cleaning was done. Everyone gathered for a potluck lunch, while deciding the game plan for the afternoon.
The guys worked on patching the rents in the plaster, while the ladies prepared to head to a local hardware store for paint.
"You're going to trust her to pick paint?" Jack Eames chuckled, pointing at his sister.
"I told her she could pick any color as long as it was beige," Bobby deadpanned.
"Right," Alex snarked. "I was thinking more-uh, tangerine with chartreuse stripes."
"Do you even know what that would look like?" Darla shuddered.
"Yep, an orange and green zebra," she retorted.
"You need some furniture, man," Joe Hannah commented. "At least a couch."
"We can stop at Pottery Barn, if you like," Liz said innocently. "There's this nice sectional that's on sale.
The guys jeered, "Pottery Barn is a chick place!"
"And way beyond my budget," Bobby agreed. "I'll just cruise the second-hand stores, I'm not picky." He opened his wallet and peeled off several bills. "Need a credit card?"
The guys really gave him shit for that, "Never trust a woman with your plastic," Patrick groaned.
"Guys, your sister is probably one of the most conservative people with money I know," Bobby chuckled.
"Meaning I can spot a bargain anywhere. You can pay me back whenever," she said, striving to keep her tone casual in front of their boss and his wife.
By the time the women returned from their power shopping, there was a new door hung, complete with new locks for both doors. The guys were parked on the floor, and the few chairs, watching a ball game and drinking beer.
"Great," Alex rolled her eyes.
"It took you this long to pick paint?" Johnny laughed.
"You know women and shopping," Maeve brushed him off.
"Besides, Bobby needed a rug and a couch, new lamps, curtains..." Alex joined in.
Bobby snooped through the bags and boxes, "I don't see a couch here."
She held out her phone and showed him the picture, "Like this?"
"Looks kinda small," he squinted.
She punched his arm, "It'll look nice with the orange paint."
"I thought it was butternut squash and dried cranberry," Sharon Hannah laughed.
"Squash and cranberries? That sounds like Thanksgiving dinner, not something you'd put on the walls," Eric teased.
Sunday night, virtually all traces of the carnage were erased. The walls were freshly painted, the longest wall the deep cranberry color, while the remaining walls were a subtle gold. New curtains hung at the windows in the living/dining area. A richly-colored rug covered the floor. The soft leather couch Alex had discovered in the trade-in section of the neighborhood furniture store stood at an angle, and a new recliner took the opposite corner. A trunk from the foot of Bobby's bed made a nice coffee table, and two new lamps added to the ambiance. Red and green apples were piled in a wooden bowl on the dining table, and the table itself was covered with a plaid cloth in fall colors.
Maeve's pot roast and vegetables were baking in the oven, an apple pie was cooling on the counter. Alex set the table with some inexpensive stoneware that she'd bought yesterday. She found a couple taper candles in the drawer, and a book of matches. Soft jazz was playing in the background. A bottle of barbaresco, ready to be poured.
Alex and Bobby were alone, their family and friends off to their own homes. He came to her in faded jeans and a sweater, fresh from his shower, "We don't have to stay here tonight."
She smiled up at him, "I want to, unless...you want to be alone. I'd understand."
"I want you here," his voice was husky, looking around the transformed living/dining/kitchen area. "Kinda like christening a new place."
"I hope I didn't overstep," she kissed him lingeringly.
"Oh, the place looks better than it has in years," he nibbled behind her ear.
"Hold that thought while I grab a quick shower," she held a hand to his mouth.
After her shower, she put on a trail of perfume and reached for a black teddy.
Bobby stood in the doorway of the bedroom, "Whoa!" he whistled in a appreciation. "I like."
"You're a bit overdressed," she took the silk robe she'd bought for his birthday from the closet.
"Undress me," he said hoarsely, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"With pleasure," her hands tugged at the hem of the sweater, carefully pulling it over his head.
He pressed his face into her cleavage, cherishing the feel of silk, the scent of her perfume, listening to her quickening heart and breath.
"Bobby," she moaned softly. "I was undressing you."
"Hmm, we'll get back to that," he sucked softly through the thin material, making her nipples ache.
"Feels so good," she whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair.
The straps slid from her shoulders, her breasts now fully exposed. He continued to slowly feast on her skin, even lightly licking at the healing wound on her shoulder.
Bobby's groin tightened exponentially to the sound of her voice, the taste of her skin, "Delicious," he murmured. His hand wandered beneath the silky hem of the teddy, fingertips stroking the damp curls then the velvety crease hidden inside.
Alex's knees began to shake, arousal curling from her center, "Oh oh oh!" her fingers dug into his shoulders. "Can't stand...anymore."
He stopped for a moment, and laid her crosswise on the bed, "Better?"
"Yeah...but let me..." she tugged at the snap of his jeans, and worked the zipper.
"In a minute," he brushed her hand away and rolled on his side. His tongue and fingers resumed their sensual journey.
Alex arched off the bed as his hands held her thighs apart, and he positioned his mouth over her.
There were no words or conscious thought as the ecstasy flooded her.
It could have been seconds or hours as the haze slowly receded, "I was actually going to feed you dinner first," she gasped finally.
"Dessert first," he grinned wolfishly, pulling her mouth to his.
"Have to get these off," she shoved him onto his back and pushed jeans and briefs over his hips, and then tossed them on the floor. Alex stretched her body over his like a cat, taking her sweet time with her own tongue and digits to pleasure him.
Bobby tried to stay still, but he was teetering on the brink of release, "Alex, baby, if you do that much more..."
She flicked her tongue teasingly over the tip, "You were saying?" She engulfed him fully.
Tears rolled from his eyes as he spasmed, the orgasm flooding his senses.
They lay side by side, catching their breath. "Definitely dessert first," Alex smiled, her hand stroking his chest.
And there you have it, chapter 14. In number 15, Bobby and Alex get to spend a lovely, smutty week in San Diego, California, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, IMHO. Let's see, they're supposed to be at a law enforcement conference. Right. It can't all be work :) I appreciate feedback in any language, as I figured out how to use Bing translator.