A/N: Ashtonsgirl asked me if I could try to post another chapter before the holidays, and I actually managed to get one done, in spite of the insanity! Happy holidays to everyone!

Bobby shifted on the couch and coughed. Pain seared through his ribs and he groaned. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The room was dark. The shades on the window across the room were illuminated by the streetlights; it was night.

He sat up slowly and scrubbed his left hand over his face, wincing at the burning in his lip where he'd bitten it earlier. The minor pain brought back memories of the talk he'd had with Alex, and he could not help wondering about the repercussions. Would she ultimately decide that he was not worth the effort, that the impact of his past was too great a risk to take where the children were concerned? He looked across the room, but Molly's playpen was still there, and so was the kids' toybox. There were still toys on the floor, and the kids' boots and jackets were where they belonged by the door. He relaxed a little. They were still there.

He heard a noise in the kitchen, followed by a small exclamation. Rising, he limped carefully across the room, which wasn't spinning as badly as it had been earlier. He looked into the kitchen, dimly lit by the light over the stove. The little stepstool the kids used was pushed against the cabinets below the sink and a small cup sat beside the dish drain. The refrigerator door was open and Maggie was trying to manage carrying the milk while still using her crutches. She dropped the milk jug, apparently not for the first time. "Shoot," she muttered.

He smiled. "Problem, mouse?"

She turned and her face lit up. "Hi, Daddy! I'm jus' tryin' to figger out how to bring the milk to my cup." A thoughtful look crossed her face, the look that Alex always said made her look the most like him. "Maybe I should bring my cup to the milk."

"That's a good idea. Do you want me to help you?"

"No thanks, Daddy. I can do it."

He watched her hobble over to the sink and grab her cup. He felt something catch in the center of his chest. Alex was right. Every time he saw Maggie hobbling about on her crutches, he would be reminded of his inadequacies, his failure to protect her from harm and take care of her. He would feel the guilt that burdened him for causing her injuries.

Maggie turned from the sink, then stopped and turned back, placing her cup back on the counter. She carefully climbed the stepstool again and grabbed a glass from the drain. She filled the glass with water and set it by the drain next to her cup. Bobby was impressed by her cautious mobility. Not once did she bear any weight on her broken leg. Getting off the stool, she then grabbed her cup by its handle and hobbled back to the refrigerator. "I got you some water, Daddy. You should take your med'cine."

She poured the milk into her cup, sloshing only a little onto the floor. Putting the milk back in the refrigerator, she picked up her cup and looked around, trying to figure out how to get away from the refrigerator with her cup.

Bobby stepped forward, gently taking her cup from her and setting it on the counter. Then he took her crutches and set them aside, lifting her in his arms. He hugged her and set her on the counter beside her cup. He could tell she was hurting. "Does your leg hurt?"

She nodded. "It feels like my heart," she said, opening and closing her fist. "Like this."

He understood the throbbing pain she described and he got her medicine from beside his on the refrigerator. "Yours, too, Daddy," she insisted.

He hesitated, but grabbed his own prescription bottle and dumped two pills into his hand. He poured her medicine into a medicine cup and handed it to her before getting the water she'd gotten for him.

Maggie took her medicine and then picked up her milk. Bobby opened the pantry and got her two cookies. "Thank you," she smiled.

He leaned heavily on the counter beside her. "How was Mommy tonight?"

"Good. After Uncle Mike left, she played with Tommy and me. She wasn' as sad. We had chicken an' rice for dinner. I he'ped her give Molly a bath after Tommy went to bed and then I went to bed. Are you hungry, Daddy? You missed dinner."

He shook his head. His stomach was still too much in knots for him to manage a decent meal. "No. I'm not hungry."

She leaned into him and rested her head against his arm. "You needa eat, Daddy. Mommy put dinner for you inna fridge."

"Are you ready to go back to bed, baby?"

"Are you gonna eat?"

He turned to look at her. She had that stubborn look on her face that he knew so well. "Let me tuck you in and then I'll try to eat."

"Promise?"

His face relaxed into a brief smile. "Yes, I promise."

She finished the last of her milk and waited for him. He lifted her off the counter and set her on the floor. He didn't want to risk carrying her. His knee was showing a tendency to buckle, and he still could not get his head to settle down. She grabbed her crutches and he followed her to her room, where he tucked her back into her bed and gave her a gentle kiss. "Sleep well, mouse."

She smiled at him and rested a small hand against his cheek. "Good night, Daddy. An' 'member to eat."

He nodded as he rose, swallowing a grunt when his hip and knee protested his weight. Limping to the door, he looked back at Maggie. She had turned onto her side, snuggled into her pillow and closed her eyes. He could not imagine his life without her. Turning off the light, he pulled the door closed.

He hesitated for a moment, looking toward the door of his bedroom. He had given Alex what she wanted, a glimpse into his past. No, more than a glimpse. He gave her a full-fledged look. Only three people now living knew more about it:his brother Frank, Lewis, because he had lived much of it with him, and Mike, because he asked the right questions after just the right amount of alcohol to get him to talk. Mike's childhood had been no cakewalk, either, another bond they shared. The past was a two-way street with them, give and take. He did not have that bond with his wife, but now she knew for certain his mother had raised a son damaged by her illness and his father's apathy, by abuse at both their hands. She could see a tortured boy grown into a man who, so far, had broken the cycle of his past. She didn't know the worst of it, but what she knew now was bad enough.

He returned to the kitchen and heated the plate Alex had left for him. He'd given his word to Maggie and that mattered to him. Sitting at the table with the food, he revisited the talk he'd had with Alex, and he again felt a surge of resentment that she had pushed him into it. But there was more to his resentment than what lay on the surface. During her marriage to Ricky, he had made himself available to her at a great cost to him. Only Denise seemed to understand his sacrifice, because she understood his heart. Eames had not know the full extent of what he gave up for her. He wondered if she assumed that he sat by the phone, waiting for her to call. That had never been the case, but he always dropped everything to be there for her. Maybe, if she had let him live his life outside the job, things would be different. But how different would he want it to be? His head was spinning again.

He ate what he could, covering the plate again and returning it to the refrigerator. The medicine was working, making it easier to walk, but more difficult to navigate. The spinning in his head was worse and, for the first time, he wondered about his injuries. How bad were they really? It would probably be a good idea to talk to Wrightweiler without dismissing his symptoms, to tell the doctor honestly how he was doing.

He could breathe easier now that the pain had diminished, and he laid back on the couch, fairly comfortable. Slowly, his eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep.

He knew that sensation, but it took his mind a moment to catch up with what his body felt. Fingers, sifting through his hair. That was it. With great effort, he forced his eyes open. With greater effort, he focused his vision. "Alex..."

"Good morning."

His eyes darted around the room. It was daylight, and he heard the happy sounds of Maggie and Tommy eating breakfast. Alex continued to gently stroke his hair. "Mike will be here soon to watch the kids while we go to the funeral home."

Funeral home...? Oh...his mother...

Alex saw the sudden cloud descend over his face. Slowly, he sat up. "I-I guess I need to get ready."

"Maggie said you were up with her in the middle of the night."

"She needed her medicine and she wanted a drink of water."

"She didn't wake you, did she?"

"No."

He struggled to his feet, waving off her help, and limped toward the bedroom. She followed him, standing near the bed as she watched him get his clothes together. "Bobby, what's wrong? Why are you upset?"

He turned from the dresser a little too quickly. Once the room settled, he looked at her. Slowly, his eyes moved from her face down over her torso to her waist and down her legs, and then they moved back up her body. By the time they met hers again, his resentment was gone, forgotten in the mists of something much more powerful: his love for her. "It's nothing. I just...I don't need help. Give me ten minutes to clean up and I'll be ready."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding and walking to the door. She turned when he called her name. "Would you mind...calling Dr. Wrightweiler? See if he can see me sometime tomorrow."

"Is something wrong?"

"I can't get my head to clear...and my knee...it's starting to give way on me."

She knew better than to suggest postponing Maggie's appointment. "Suppose I can get you in this afternoon, after Maggie's appointment? His office is in the next building."

He gave her a brief nod. "That's fine."

She left to make the call and he got ready to face the day.

As she drove to the funeral parlor, Alex kept glancing over at Bobby, who silently watched out the window. "Is everything all right?" she finally asked.

He was quiet for a moment before he finally answered, "I don't know. You tell me. You got what you wanted; I told you everything you wanted to know. How do you feel about it, Alex? Do you feel closer to me now? Do you understand me better or are you now more wary because you know what you're dealing with?"

She weighed his words against the bitterness she heard in his voice. "Do you still expect me to leave?"

He sighed. "I don't know what I expect. I...I feel...like I'm walking on quicksand right now."

She knew that she needed to reassure him and she wanted to, but she was not certain what to say or what he needed to hear from her. "How can I reassure you?" she asked.

His head was throbbing, and he rubbed his temple. "Why, Alex? Why did you want to know all that? Did you feel that threatened by my friendship with Mike?"

"Not threatened, no. But I..." She paused, searching for the right words to describe how she felt. "I felt like I didn't know you like I should."

"You needed to know that my parents beat the shit out of me when I was a kid? That sometimes, I used drugs to escape or to cope? That I had so much trouble dealing with your marriage? Where did all that get you?"

"It got me to where I am now," she said. "I was up most of the night, thinking, and I made a decision."

His gut clenched and he couldn't suppress a shudder. His head hurt worse. Here it comes... "What decision?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Her hand moved between the seats and came to rest on his thigh. He made no move to pull away. Gently, she rubbed his leg and softly, she answered him. "I decided that I want to be with you forever. You really want to know what our conversation did for me? It convinced me that I made the right decision when I married you, when I gave birth to your children. Bobby, you frustrate the hell out of me sometimes. You annoy me and piss me off. But when it comes down to the wire, I can't depend on anyone in the world the way I can depend on you. Like you said, you have always been there when I needed you. Always." She took a deep breath. "I swear, I never intended to interfere with your life. But...when I felt so alone, when I...needed...someone...I knew that all I had to do was dial your number, and so I did. I used you, and part of me is glad you finally got mad about that. But a bigger part of me is more glad that you never turned me away, because I had nowhere else to go. You said I kicked you aside. I didn't. I never knew how you really felt, until it was too late. You were never my second choice, once I realized you were a real option. You were always so good at hiding your feelings. That was what came around to bite you in the ass. And once I realized you were an option, you wanted no part of me because I was married to Ricky." She swallowed hard and blinked to clear her vision. "Everything you told me yesterday...made me realize what an incredible man you really are, what obstacles in your life you overcame, the circumstances you rose above. I admire you for that, and I love you more than I ever have. I didn't think that was possible, but I do."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the pain behind his eyes. She had his head spinning worse than it had been. He had not expected that, not at all. He needed to take a deep breath, but couldn't. He refocused himself by looking out the window again, grateful that she left him alone to gather himself.

When she parked outside the funeral home, her hand closed on the door handle, but when he grabbed her arm, she did not open the door. Turning toward him to see what he wanted, she was caught entirely off guard when he suddenly kissed her. Sliding her arms around him, they both relaxed in the embrace. He allowed her to break the kiss, but she did not pull away. Gently, she rested her forehead against his, trailing her thumb along his jaw. "I'm sorry I put you through that," she whispered. "But I needed to know."

He nodded, eyes still closed, but said nothing. He was done talking, at least for awhile. Tipping his head, he kissed her again.