I've given Bobby a Medal of Honor, which is not Canon to the show. I also don't know if his actions merited such an award.

Chapter Five

Several months passed before Bobby moved to Major Case. His physical recovery took several weeks. When he returned to Narcotics, he assisted with the cleanup of several cases, but his Captain, who also waited for his new assignment, kept him off the streets.

"It's not that I don't trust you," the Captain told him. "I do…But I want you to get to Major Case in one piece."

"You're sure the move is really going to happen?" Bobby asked.

"It will," the Captain responded. "You know how long it takes the wheels to move in the department. Congratulations, Detective First Grade."

Bobby looked at the Captain in amazement. "First Grade? I got a promotion?"

"And the Medal of Honor…And don't tell me you don't deserve it," the Captain said. "I'm proud of you…First man I've commanded who's got one…"

Bobby suffered through the awarding of the medal, hating himself for his gratitude that Officer Dutton's death on the same night muted the ceremony. The department's wheels finally moved nearly a year after that terrible night. The same day that Bobby's Captain in Narcotics was named an Assistant Chief, Tommy Phillips got his gold shield and a prime spot in Homicide, Matt Cleary moved to Fraud, Eva Linder became a Lieutenant, and Bobby sat in the office of the Major Case Squad's Captain, James Deakins. Deakins welcomed him to Major Case and congratulated him on his promotion and award. Bobby sensed a wariness on Deakins' part, but the Captain also appeared to be willing to reserve judgment on his new detective. He showed Bobby to a small, unstable desk behind a column but in clear view of the Captain and handed the younger man a booklet and several forms. Bobby said nothing about the desk's condition and location and settled into studying the booklet and filling out the forms. He'd worked in worse places under worse conditions, and Deakins appeared pleased with his reaction.

Bobby spent his first days in Major Case learning and observing. The Squad moved with efficiency and energy, but there was clearly much more political pressure than Bobby had seen in other divisions of the NYPD. It was clear Major Case held a lot of very ambitious and very smart detectives. Many dressed liked Wall Street types, and the world was very different from the often chaotic one of Narcotics. "I'm going to have to upgrade my wardrobe," Bobby thought, and he smiled wanly at the idea that the cost of new clothes would easily wipe out the raise he received with his promotion.

He studied the other Major Case members with interest, wondering which might be a candidate as his partner. At the end of his third day with the squad, Deakins emerged from his office.

"Detective Goren," he said. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Bobby quietly followed the captain. He soothed his tie and the front of his suit. "This is it," he thought. "Time to meet the partner…I want this to work…" For all of his skills as a detective and his leadership abilities, Bobby had little luck with partners. His mind moved too quickly and he followed it too impulsively for most cops. His failed partnerships were one of the reasons for his reputation as eccentric as best and a whack job at worst. "I'll try," Bobby thought. "I'll really try with this partner…I just hope he's willing to try…" He stopped just inside Deakins' office. There, standing confidently in front of the captain's desk and regarding him with a critical but not unfriendly eye, was the young widow.

"Detective Alex Eames," Deakins said. "Detective Robert Goren…"

"Please," Bobby thought as he shook her strong hand. "Don't let her recognize me…"

She was small, her head barely reaching the middle of his chest. She wore a neat, conservative dark blue suit with a white shirt with blue stripes. Her medium length blonde hair framed an intelligent with eyes that were a mix of grey, brown, and green. "She's tough," Bobby thought. "And pretty…"

"Please," he said softly. "Call me Bobby."

She looked at him carefully. "Bobby, uh? Big guy for such a kid's name."

Bobby smiled. "You've caught one of my tricks."

"You have a lot of those?" she smiled back.

Bobby liked Alex Eames, liked her a lot, and quickly came to admire her skills as a detective. But in spite of his affection and admiration for his new partner, their first weeks together weren't easy. When her damned letter requesting a transfer emerged years later, Bobby wasn't completely surprised. They managed to get through those first days—largely, Bobby readily admitted, because of Alex—and the partnership and friendship became the best things in Bobby's life.

He was aware of her scrutiny. During their first full day together, Alex commented, "I think I've seen you around…"

Bobby waved a large paw. "Probably some function or other…"

There were other times when he dodged the bullet of her recognizing him. When Alex was on her pregnancy leave, and Bobby and Bishop caught the case of the murdered undercover officers, Bobby, Bishop, Carver and Deakins attended the funeral of one of the cops. Deakins was clearly pleased with the quick resolution of the case, and Bishop clearly proud of her work, but Bobby felt only a terrible weight as they entered the church. Alex, looking remarkably good in her improvised maternity dress uniform, waited for them inside.

"You look good," she told Bobby. "I don't think I've ever seen you in your dress blues."

"Yes, you have," Bobby thought. "Please don't remember it."

She said nothing, but throughout the service Bobby caught her looking at him as if she struggled to remember something.

He had another close call at the funeral of her dead husband's ex-partner. As he drove back to Major Case after the funeral, Bobby felt Alex's close study of him.

"You ok?" he asked gently.

"I…I was just thinking," Alex said. "Joe…Joe always used any excuse to wear his dress blues…But you…"

"I…I'm a detective…We don't wear the blues unless…" He swallowed. "Accept for things like this."

"Yea," Alex said. "I think the last time I wore my dress uniform was at that funeral when I was pregnant."

When they reached One Police Plaza, Bobby moved stiffly out of the SVU.

"Your leg bothering you?" Alex asked sympathetically.

"A little," Bobby admitted. "Been sitting too long."

"It's a little cold…It always seems to bother you when it's cold."

"Yea…" Bobby pulled his tie from his collar as they walked to the elevator.

"You've never told me how you got hurt," Alex said. She pointed at the green ribbon on Bobby's shield. "Did it have anything to do with that?"

As he had every time Alex had asked about his Medal of Honor, Bobby disappeared behind his emotional brick walls. "It…It did…But I…I really don't want to talk about it….Please, Alex…"

"Ok," Alex said, touched by his use of her first name. "But you know…real heroes usually don't want to talk about what they did."

"I…I wasn't a hero," Bobby mumbled. "Nothing like it." He stared at the elevator lights.

"Well, if you don't want to share the details of your heroics," Alex said.

He was too relieved to notice the disappointment in her eyes.

Alex avoided the subject of Bobby's Medal until Captain Ross brought it up soon after Bobby returned from suspension.

"I'm doing some paperwork on his reinstatement," Ross said. "And I just wondered how he got his Medal of Honor."

Alex watched Bobby wrestle with the copier. Ross followed her gaze.

"How a guy that bright can have so much trouble with machines," the Captain said.

"Bobby says he has bad karma with machines. Even though he doesn't believe in karma."

Alex smiled. "I don't know anything about the medal, Sir. He's never worn anything beyond the ribbon on his dress uniform, and that only because he has to. I've asked him about it a couple of times…but he just says he didn't deserve it and he doesn't want to talk about it. I've thought about looking it up…"

"Well, it might help his cause if he occasionally took advantage of it," Ross said.

"I wonder why I don't remember him getting it," Alex said. "I mean, even if it happened his first day on the job, I've been NYPD longer than him. I should remember it."

"He must have received it some time when I was out of the loop. I was on a foreign task force about eight years ago," Ross said. "Maybe then…Just let him know he's not in trouble and I need him to fill out some forms."

"Eight years ago," Alex thought as Ross walked away. "I was preoccupied then…"

It was a quiet afternoon, and Alex took advantage of it to search for eight year old newspaper stories on Officer Robert Goren. She discovered—as she'd expected and prepared herself—many stories on Joe's death. In spit of her resolve, the stories—many of them she now knew to be based on lies—shook her, but she finally found the reports she looked for. There were small stories in the TIMES and the DAILY NEWS, but the POST, with its usual lack of subtlety, carried headlines screaming about a night of tragedy for the NYPD. There, almost lost in the story about Joe's murder, were a few lines describing Detective Robert Goren's efforts in saving civilians and cops when a narcotics deal went bad. There were painfully few details or follow-up stories, but Alex learned that Detective Goren was badly injured but expected to fully recover, and that his superiors were considering rewarding him for his actions. All of these reports took second place to the reports on Joe. Aside from one or two reprints of Bobby's academy graduation photo, there were very few pictures of him. As Alex shifted through the stories, her heart stopped when she saw one photo. "Hero Cop Attends Fellow Officer's Funeral," the caption read, and it showed a very pale Bobby leaning heavily against a church pew.

"Eames? Are you ok?" Bobby's concerned voice broke in on her shock. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The memories of that awful night flooded Alex. Her stomach lurched, and she stumbled from her chair and reeled to the women's bathroom. She managed to reach a stall before her stomach rebelled violently. Shaking, she knelt in front of the toilet.

"Oh, God," she thought. "The hospital…They took Bobby to the same hospital…and that was him…The cop I saw first…the one I hated because he was going to live and they told me Joe was very bad…Even then I knew he wouldn't make it…" A wave of nausea swept over her, and she leaned over the toilet. When she finished emptying what little remained in her stomach, Alex leaned back against the stall. "Oh, Bobby…All this time…No wonder you didn't want to tell me…How dare you not tell me! Joe…Joe…Bobby…Bobby…" Tears filled her eyes, rage and grief filled her, and Alex sobbed.

Lost in one of the department's more complicated forms, Bobby didn't register Alex's departure until she was nearly in the bathroom. "What happened?" he thought, and felt most of the eyes of Major Case on him. "They probably think I caused it," he thought. "Hell…Maybe I did…Or maybe this is some girl thing…" He returned to his efforts to solve the form's puzzles, but grew increasingly worried as minutes passed and Alex didn't return. "Maybe she's really sick," he thought, and nearly became ill himself. He stood and tried to make himself invisible—never an easy task—and glanced at her computer screen. He stopped as if he'd hit a brick wall. He felt dizzy and sick, and his leg throbbed with remembered pain. He leaned on Alex's desk and tried to calm the rushing blood in his head. He looked up and saw Alex run from the bathroom to the elevators. He started after her, but his reluctance to run in the squad room kept him from catching her before she got in a car. All of the cars were headed down, and Bobby spun to the stairs. He descended the eleven flights as fast as he could, and by the seventh floor, his leg hurt badly. He reached the lobby and caught his breath as he scanned the floor for Alex.

"Outside," he thought. "She must be…"

He found her sitting on a bench near the edge of the OPP plaza. They both knew the place. It was where they went when the crime scene photos became too much, or they were too steamed at Ross or each other, or it was a beautiful day and they felt like a few minutes of playing hooky. Trying not to limp, Bobby walked to her.

"You found me…Good job, Detective." Alex was pale, and her eyes rimmed in red.

She'd been crying, and he was the reason. He ran a hand through his hair.

"You look like you ran down the stairs," she said. "That can't be good for you leg. Does it hurt?"

"It…it's ok." He stood in front of her like a condemned man waiting for his punishment. "I…I'm sorry, Eames…"

"For God's sake, Bobby…What are you sorry about? For doing your job? For getting shot? That's not your fault."

"It's…I…I didn't tell you…Because…I didn't want you…to have to relive that night…It's not because I don't trust you…Please believe that…"

She saw that his leg shook as much as his voice. "Here…Sit down and rest your leg."

He sat as far away from as he could.

"Tell me what happened that night…all of it," she commanded.

He took a deep breath and told her. She stopped him only once.

"You grabbed Reyes' gun?" she asked.

"It…it was the only way to keep him from hurting other people," Bobby stammered.

Alex nodded. "Go on."

He finished by describing how he saw her at Joe's funeral. "I…I never meant to…to hide anything from you…I…I didn't want to remind you…"

It was a remarkably beautiful early summer day. It was warm, but a gentle, cool breeze kept the temperature comfortable. All of the varieties of people who made up New York City wandered about peacefully, and a person could believe that the city might actually work. And Bobby thought he could hear all of their thoughts.

Alex touched his arm. "You know, if more people knew about that medal and how you got it, things might be easier."

"I…I didn't deserve it…It…it had more to do with politics…"

Alex smiled. "Bobby…I'm sure you left out a lot of things…And even your version of the story tells me you deserved that medal." She took a deep breath. "I…I remember seeing you at the hospital…I remember how much it hurt when you weren't Joe…"

A dull throbbing behind his head joined the pain in Bobby's leg.

"And I think I remember seeing you in the church." She glanced at Bobby, who slunk on a corner of the bench. "How many doctors and nurses did you have to argue with to get out of the hospital?"

"Some…"

"Why did you come? You didn't know Joe or me…You were hurt…"

"He was a cop," Bobby said simply. "People told me he was a good cop and a good guy…And…And I couldn't understand…I thought I owed…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "He had this beautiful wife…and family…so much to live for…"

Alex, her eyes wide, stared at him. "You knew…You knew," she said slowly. "You knew I was pregnant?"

Bobby's hand flew up to cover his mouth. "Eames…I…I'm sorry…I…guessed…"

"How…how did you know? I…I'd just found out…the day Joe…I hadn't told anyone…"

Bobby held a fist to his mouth. "During the Mass…You kept putting your hands in front of you…Like you were trying to protect…And the way you looked at the coffin…Eames…Alex…It's this stupid head of mine…I can't shut it off…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

Alex looked at him. Bobby was hunched over, trying to make himself as small as possible. One hand was a fist in front of his mouth; the other wrapped around the back of his neck. "I wish…I wish I could have taken his place…I wish…"

"Robert Goren!" Alex said sharply. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare think that!"

He looked up at her with his great, dark, sad eyes.

"I don't believe in that kind of a trade…You didn't live because Joe died…If you had died, Joe wouldn't have lived. I don't believe that."

Bobby felt a great weight leave his chest. "I…I don't believe that either…Not really…but…"

Alex moved carefully closer to him. "I…I'm sorry that Joe died…I loved him…Loved him very much…After…About a week after…I lost the baby…"

Bobby jerked as if he'd been stabbed. "Oh, Alex…"

She gently silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips. "I thought…I thought I might die from grief…There were times when I wanted to…But I didn't…"

"I…I'm glad you got through," Bobby said.

"I'm glad you didn't die that night," Alex said. "I'm sorry…I'll be sorry all my life…that Joe died that night. But I'm glad you didn't die."

"Thank you for saying that," Bobby said after several moments. "Thank you."

"We should get back," Alex said. "Ross will think we're going through another crisis."

"Didn't we just go through one?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe…but we got through," Alex said as she stood. "You ok?"

As he stood, Bobby realized the throbbing in his head had ended and his leg felt much better. "I'm fine…better than I've been in a long time…"

"Maybe for eight years?" Alex asked gently.

"Maybe…"

END