Re-touch
The doctor came and went with no new information, only noting Goren's body temperature and the swelling in his feet and legs caused by the build up of IV fluid which his kidneys were refusing to excrete. The hours folded one into another. Alex signed some forms. Nurses came and went, changing his ice packs and physically check him.
Alex remained on the chair with her knees up, arms wrapped around her ankles, watching her partner breathe. One nurse came in and handed her a small tube of ointment.
"I'll let you rub this over his lips every hour or so. It will help with the healing."
Alex was glad the nurse didn't notice the look on her face. Yes, obviously she had been incorrectly noted as a "domestic partner" to the hospital staff. At least she could stay without question. The nurse lowered the guard rail on the side of the bed so Alex could get close and then left the room.
Alex looked at the tube of ointment and looked at Bobby. They never touched, except for a very occasional bump and not even that in recent years. It was over the top professionalism, but it worked for them.
It had started because she just didn't want to give him the wrong idea. She'd seen other partnerships self-destruct when they had crossed the line and become involved. But it didn't always end badly either… Goren had easily and immediately matched her lead. His head was so in the clouds for the first few months they worked together, it was a miracle he noticed her existence.
She had always been surprised when he would deliberately reach out and touch her - it was always to attract her attention, although he had absently clapped her on the back once and almost winded her. That one-of-the-guys gesture from someone over a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than she had never happened again. After a while she began to notice he would touch everyone else but her. Carver, Deakins and even the file delivery clerk would merit a touch, a simple hand on the arm. Unlike Goren, if they were relaxed and discussing something, Carver had no qualms about leaning back with his arm stretched easily across the back of her chair. Deakins had hugged her when he learned of her surrogate pregnancy. But Robert Goren kept his distance.
In a funny way, instead of touching, they had substituted a language of exchanged looks. At first the glances were a check to see if the other partner had taken note of something. But as time went on, and they knew the other had made the observation, the look was to confirm their sentiments were in synch. If they were in unity, support from the other was assured and they took the next step in their dance.
They had become experts at reading each other when they were "discussing" a case. But he was abysmal at reading her personal feelings. Mind you, she did her best to keep her mask in place, even to him. She shared only emotions relative to the case, usually disgust at the behaviours and twisted values they saw in the people they dealt with. She was a master at pointing out the ironies of human behaviour.
It was just as well they had developed their non-verbal language, because the department rumour mill could have made things incredibly uncomfortable for them. No one could accuse them of any visible impropriety. There was no invisible impropriety, but as their ability to work extremely well together became more evident to their colleagues, so had the voyeuristic scrutiny of their partnership.
When she had returned from maternity leave, Goren had touched her more in the span of a few days than ever before – or since. She had been surprised, amused and warmed by what could only be perceived as his show of pleasure at her return. It was like he had his favourite toy back. If the guys in the squad room had noticed, they had only kidded her that it was a damn good thing she'd come back or Goren would have killed Bishop, his temporary partner.
It had been so good to be back at work after her maternity leave. At work she could become completely absorbed, almost forgetting that beautiful tiny boy they had allowed her to hold only too briefly before he was swept away by his loving parents. Try as she might, she would never forget the emptiness she'd experienced that day. She was left with a body that had changed suddenly from being the center of the universe, to being an empty vessel - with an empty heart to match. So she built a wall around those memories, just as she had built one around Joe's death.
Until Robert Goren had so recently knocked that wall down. Her mask had slipped badly when Kevin Quinn had been murdered and Joe's case was re-opened. Bobby had needed to tread on pins and needles when he'd been near her. The timing had been horrible so soon after Frances Goren's death. Alex should have been the strong one and eased her partner back into work, not struggle angrily against him. She still felt guilty about that. He was only doing his job in the best way he knew - he shouldn't even have been at work, much less partnered with her as she rode emotional waves of painful memories and frustrations. He tried so hard to read her feelings and appeal to her reason, knowing there was little chance of making it easier for her no matter what he did.
He had helped hold up her mask and buffered her from the rest of the squad. He had called her Alex for the first time, touching her gently with his quiet husky voice. That unexpected tenderness had almost tipped her into sobs right there in front of both Bobby and Rodgers. His presence became a soothing balm at the end when her truths as she'd known them for 9 years were dissolving. As usual, he had gotten to the real truth when no one else could.
And when it was over he had walked her for miles, taken her home mentally and physically exhausted and silently moved in on her couch for two days.
But he hadn't touched her.
Beep, beep, beep.
She hadn't even touched him at his mother's funeral when he had briefly doubled over in grief. Too many colleagues around. She had been so distressed by his pain. He had needed someone to hug him so badly that day. She had just shadowed him closely, hoping that someone would provide the comfort he deserved and needed.
Comfort that she would easily have offered any other friend under the same circumstances became so complicated when dealing with Bobby. If she had wrapped her arms around him, they could never have gone back. And yet she regretted not having done just that.
Thank god for Lewis. He had lightened the mood and provided a lot of comfort at the graveside. He hadn't even made a pass at her, but merely thanked her for being there for Bobby. Funny, she should have been thanking him. She was so out of her depth in this situation.
Other than a brief embrace on arrival, Declan Gage had moved away from Bobby. Alex guessed it was because she wasn't leaving Bobby's side and Declan was still struggling with the reality that his daughter had very nearly taken Alex's life. Neither of them knew how to react in the presence of the other. And besides, this wasn't about them. It was about remembering Frances Goren – and getting Bobby through that day…………….
Beep, beep, beep
With a sigh, Alex moved to the sink in Bobby's hospital room, thoroughly washed her hands and then squeezed some of the ointment onto her finger. She leaned over Bobby and touched the ointment to his lips, spreading it slowly and gently on his lower lip first, from center to edges so not to open the split skin. He didn't move at her touch. His poor beautiful lips.
Being so close she could smell the dried sweat on his face and hair. She knew he'd been badly stressed and didn't need to see the marks left by the restraints to know it. There was no trace of his everyday scent of soap, aftershave or freshly cleaned suit here. She could smell the stress on him the same way she had after he had been held hostage by Ray Wiznesky. Come to think of it, he smelled that way when he came to the hospital after Jo Gage had kidnapped her. Strange to have that memory, she couldn't remember being that close to him as she lay in the hospital bed and the sedatives overpowered her….. He hadn't come close to her, he hadn't touched her, he merely said "Sorry". It almost annoyed her – what are you sorry for? His eyes were telling more, but she could not keep her eyes open to read them.
Beep, beep, beep
At the thought of that time, she brought her fingers up to rub the tiny cross around her neck. It had been her constant companion since the day it was left for her. The cross had been in a velvet box on her side table when she awoke one night in the hospital after her kidnapping. She assumed her family had left it, but no one had ever mentioned it. She wasn't surprised. Her family was not given to open displays of affection. It was comforting to wear it. The symbol made her feel quietly and unobtrusively cared for and protected from the evils she often faced in her work. She reached up behind her neck and undid the clasp, pulled the necklace off and refastened the clasp. She hesitated for a moment, then reached down and wound the chain around two fingers on Goren's left hand, nestling the cross in his palm and closing his long warm fingers around it. He needed it now. It was returning whence it came. It hadn't come from her family. It had come from him.
Beep, beep, beep
As she cleaned the ointment from her fingers on a tissue, she checked the clock and mentally recorded the time she'd applied it. She was shocked to see it had been eight hours since they had brought Bobby to the hospital. No wonder she was feeling tired. She hadn't slept well since Bobby concocted this scheme to get into Tates. She had carried his phone, which he'd left with her, wherever she went for days. She slept fitfully with one hand on it, so she wouldn't miss a call from him. Days of worrying about him, plus a full night of driving to get to upstate New York were taking their toll on her.
Never mind, she had a job to do.
More ointment in 45 minutes.