A/N: Thanks for the reviews!
Enjoy!
Alex's Apartment
He could hear her in the other room. She was on the phone, talking with her sister. The moment she told him who had called, it hit him about her family. If they've been together for almost two years, then he had to know her family. Her family had to know him. And he was currently on the news being wanted by the police.
Her family would be concerned for her, worried, and they would have a lot of questions. He wondered if she'd told any of them about his...condition. If they all knew he couldn't remember who they were, what their relationships were like, and if they even liked him.
It was all very strange.
With nothing and no one familiar, it was like he was a stranger to the entire human race. Being a stranger to his own self was one thing, being a stranger to others was something completely different. He felt so empty and alone as he listened to Eames' soft whispers in the other room.
She told him to call her Alex, but he found he couldn't. Where she could call him Bobby so easily, even though it still made him uncomfortable, he couldn't bring himself to call her something so informal...intimate. Something that told him they were more than strangers; that they were friends.
He was trying, but he found a part of himself very reluctant to cross that line. He had no idea why, it made no sense to him, but he wasn't trying to force the understanding that would come; if only gradually.
They had finished the coffee, really only drinking it to warm up from the cold, and replaced their styrofoam cups with the wine she'd bought. She had told him it was his favorite and even though he couldn't remember, he really enjoyed it.
Swirling the liquor around in his cup, he heard a sharp reply coming from the kitchen and looked up to see Eames walking around, nearly pacing as she started to go off on the defense. Whatever it was she and her sister were talking about, it was getting heated. Trying not to eavesdrop, he laid back on the mattress and closed his eyes as he listened to the fire crackle in the fireplace.
A while ago they had decided since there was no furniture to sit on, to just put the mattress down on the floor in front of the fireplace. So, that was what they'd done.
The wind was blowing hard outside, and last he checked, the snow was still coming down. He was certain they would have a couple feet by morning. It was actually a good night to be exactly where he was. If he had a memory, it would've been a pretty romantic night. A fireplace as the only source of heat, bottle of wine, and a raging snowstorm outside. Perfect...if only.
Sitting up slightly, he took another drink of the wine before lying back down, staring at the ceiling.
"...Liz, that's not what-"
He looked over as her voice broke through his foggy and buzzed thoughts.
Eames groaned as she rubbed at her head. "I didn't feel it was right. And Nate was fine...Bobby's not-" She sighed heavily as she abruptly stopped talking. "I explained what happened, and he's innocent," she stressed.
He had a feeling that this wasn't the first time she had to defend him. And, he'd been right. Her family was worried.
Turning away from watching her and trying not to feel like a burden, and forcing his thoughts of leaving down, he closed his eyes and focused on the fire that was burning on the outside, in the fireplace.
There was another fire burning; one on the inside and it was getting harder to ignore, harder to push away. It wasn't a fire of desire, or passion, but of anger and rage. All this was making him feel like he was on the verge of destruction, self and otherwise.
It was all becoming too much and all he could feel was how much he hated it. Hated himself for not remembering, hating the fear and uncertainty he was putting Eames through, and hating the fear of never being himself again. Of never being the man he once was.
He didn't even know if that man was worth it. He had his doubts. He had his fears that she was wrong in what she'd just told her sister. He could be guilty.
"I don't know how her relationship with her husband suddenly became about me and you. God, sometimes she makes me so mad."
He opened his eyes and peered over at her as she walked back into the room, cell phone clenched in her hand. "She's deflecting," he said even though he wasn't quite sure what they'd been talking about. However, from what she just told him, it was reasonable to assume that he was right.
"Yeah, maybe. I know she's scared about her future with Terry now, but to attack me like that!"
He stared at her because he didn't know what was going on, and if he was honest, he really didn't care to know. Maybe he did before, when he felt a relationship with her family, but now he had no desire to get in the middle of it.
She stared down at him and asked, "How did you find me?"
He went to speak when he suddenly felt a feeling twist his stomach. It was fear; for some reason, he was afraid to answer that. Taking a breath, and trying to beat down that fear, he answered, "Melanie."
Eames twisted her face in confusion and asked, "Who's Melanie?"
"A librarian. She helped me find my address in Greenpoint. I guess that uh, that we were, are, uh...friends."
Eames continued to look at him, and this time she was looking fearful herself. But, more in a suspicious sort of way. "A friend? A woman friend...already?"
He shrugged into the mattress as he continued to look at her. "You're jealous?" he asked, and feeling a slight unease at that thought.
She was jealous he realized as she stiffened a little as she reddened. There was a moment when neither of them spoke. They both felt it, a fear of the uncertainty. A belief that maybe this was going to change everything.
She was the first to voice her concern as she asked, "How?" When he only continued to look at her, confused, she elaborated, "How did you find her?"
"Oh uh, I was in Brooklyn and realized that I needed to get some information and I thought that the easiest and quickest way to do that was to use a computer and the only thing I could think of was to go to a library. The closest one was in Prospect Heights. I guess I used to live around that neighborhood and-and that I uh, I knew Melanie from um, from you know, before."
"You like her," she said it as a statement, not a question.
He shrugged again, saying, "She was nice. Listen, Eames," he said as he sat up on the side of the mattress. Turning to her, he continued as he kept eye contact with her, "I'm not trying to jump into anything here. Not even with you. I just...It's like I just woke up out of a twenty year coma with no memory. Okay, that's what it feels like for me right now. My intentions as of now isn't to...to try to get a woman to like me, or to have sex with me. I mean, when I was at the library, when I first met her, yes, I thought she was nice and friendly and how she knew who I was. And I admit that I thought she was attractive, but I also had no thoughts or desire of-of doing anything with her, in any sort-of way. She even asked me out, but I declined. It was after you told me that we were together, and even though I had no idea if it was true, I thought that if we were I didn't want to ruin that. But, also, I had just found out where I lived and that was my only thought. My only want."
"So, you were being loyal to me even though you didn't know if I told you the truth about us?"
He shook his head as he looked away, afraid of the sadness he would see in her eyes when he told her, "It had nothing to do with any loyalty I felt toward you. It had to do with my own want to find out who I was and where I lived. Who wakes up with no memory and their first thought is to go out and find someone to sleep with anyway? Definitely not mine. In that moment, the only thing I wanted was to get to Greenpoint. That's why I turned her down, not because of you. I wish I can say it was because of you, that I felt some sort of loyalty, but I can't because I didn't feel anything toward you except maybe...consideration. Consideration for what we had before and trying to preserve that. I'm not going to suddenly, with no memory, go running off with someone else. Not unless it's something mutual, that we both decide on if my memory doesn't return and you find out I'm not the same man. Or, if you find out that I never was the man you thought I was, or...or if..." he trailed off as it got hard for him to voice his last concern.
"Or if you realize that you don't, or can't love me back," she finished for him, having picked up what he'd been thinking and afraid to say.
Giving a nod, he picked up the cup and took a sip of the wine. He felt he needed it and something a whole lot stronger. He didn't stop with a sip as he downed the rest of it and got up with a muffled groan. Spotting his shoes by the front door, he walked over and slipped them on before heading toward the kitchen.
As he passed her, he softly said, "I'm sorry, with whatever's going on with your sister and her husband."
He left her standing in the living room as he refilled his cup and then opened the sliding door that led out onto a very small deck. She had refused to allow him to smoke in her house and he respected her wishes as he lit up a cigarette in the cold night as the wind and snow started to sting his face.
As he stood out in the cold, smoking and staring out into the dark alley illuminated only by the soft light from the street lamps reflecting off the fallen snow, he couldn't help but think of the day he'd woken to an empty life. He thought about how he had so many questions and so few answers. He thought of everything he'd learned since that day and his growing fears. It felt like a noose was tightening around his neck, choking the very breath out of him little by little.
The one question that kept coming back to him, over and over again, was what had happened the day before that day? From what he knew of the drugs he'd been given, he knew that none were long lasting. Not one of them would have knocked him out for three days, yet alone one.
He didn't know how, only that it was a gut feeling, but something had happened on Sunday. Saturday night he'd been taken and Monday morning he'd awoken. Sunday was the missing piece. The only important day because he just knew that whatever happened that day was the reason why he was like this now.
It had to be.
There was still so much that made no sense. Now that he knew he had a car, then why did he walk up to the motel? Why didn't they drive?
"Want company?"
Looking over, he watched as Eames pulled her coat around her as she stepped out into the cold night. She was staring out into the dark as she crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.
"You don't need to-"
"I'm afraid of losing you, Bobby," she suddenly spoke as she turned to face him as the wind blew the falling snow around them. "In a way, I already feel like I have. That's why I can't call you Robert. It's why I can't help but feel jealous, and angry, and why this is going to be extremely difficult for me. You have no idea what we've been through, the memories we've made together. I pray one day you will, that you will wake up and this will all be over because you'll remember everything. Every day that goes by and you don't is another day I'm questioning us and it breaks my heart. I'm the only one feeling this, what this is doing to us, while you get to not feel anything except your own frustration."
He went to speak when she cut him off.
"Don't try to deny it, because I know you. I could tell from the things you said, how you said them, and what you didn't say. You didn't ask about my sister because you're not interested. You're only focused on you, with what's going on with you, and rightfully so I suppose, given the circumstances. Maybe I have no right to demand that you give me a little more than consideration, but I know you and know that that's the best I can ask for."
He stood frozen in his place and it wasn't from the cold. He listened to her words, feeling her pain, as he heard what was said but not vocalized. It seemed like before, and now, that he was an ass who put himself ahead of her. He wasn't sure if it was always, but it had to be often. There was no defending himself to her now, he had nothing to defend himself with, as he watched as she turned away and went back inside the warm house.
She knew him, and she knew that all he could give her was a fleeting thought of consideration. He stayed standing in the cold as he felt rooted in his spot, turning that thought over in his head. His emotions were battling within his soul, his mind, as he fought the growing isolation forming around his entire being. The more she accused him, even ever so slightly, the worse it got.
He already felt like leaving, that he was nothing but a burden to her and her family while he dealt with this...with this...
Fuck!
His anger erupted as he hit the side of the house. That only sparked is rage more as he turned and kicked the railing, knocking the snow off it to the ground.
He wanted his life back! All of it, no matter how good or bad it was, no matter what kind of heaven or hell he was living in, he just wanted it all back now.
Leaning over the rail, and gripping it hard in his freezing hands, he tried to push the anger away. The more he tried, the more his eyes stung, and the more his emotions threatened to overtake him. He felt like collapsing, like giving into the anguish and anger and uncertainty and all his fears.
Looking back toward the door, he felt the pain hit him hard in his chest. He was only putting her through more sorrow by being there. She could look at him, hear him talk, laugh, but she couldn't have him. Not the way she wanted; not intimately. She couldn't kiss him, touch him, or have sex with him. They couldn't even share in their memories together. He felt like a nobody, living but not being. And she was hurting so much because of it.
The things he could do to help her ease the pain, to ease his, would only cause them more problems. More heart ache. He could go to her, be with her physically, maybe even sexually, but they would both know it wasn't like before. It wouldn't be filled with love for one another, but more like two strangers with no history and no certainty of the future.
It would be as empty as he felt.
And that would be cruel. He didn't want to pretend either that everything was okay. That one day they would be like they were before, that he would and could love her.
He couldn't let her suffer anymore. As long as he didn't know, as long as he didn't feel what she felt, he shouldn't be there.
He would be back, once he remembered. Once he knew he could let her have him the way she wanted.
He went back inside and found her sitting on the mattress, sipping on a cup of wine and messing with her cell phone. Mascara streaks lined her face from her fallen, silent tears. The sight only reenforced his reasoning.
Without saying anything to her, not trusting himself to keep from saying something that would shatter her world altogether, he crossed the room and picked up his coat. He tugged it on as she got up.
"Are you leaving?"
"You love me," he said as he looked around to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind.
"Yes, what does that have to do-"
"It has everything to do with why I shouldn't be here right now." He didn't see anything so he picked up his backpack as she walked over to him.
"Bobby, it's storming outside. Why are you leaving? If it's because of what I said-"
"What will happened if I stayed?" he said as he turned to face her. "How many times are you going to look at me like I should know you, or like I should feel what you feel, and want what you want out of me? How many times am I supposed to feel regret, and anger, and this loneliness because there's nothing I can do about any of it? If I stay, the more you're going to hurt from wanting and not getting. I can't do that to you, and to myself. It's not fair, Eames. To either of us."
He turned to leave as she reached out and grabbed him. "Bobby, please, wait," she said, on the verge of tears again. Gripping him hard, she nearly begged, "Don't go. I miss you, I can't let you leave...not again," she whispered to him.
Before, she'd been solid, able to control the desperate emotions inside of her, but he figured with the added mix of him being there, that close to her, and the wine, she had lost all of her reserve and strength to hold it all in.
"It hurts," she was saying through barely contained tears.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he asked, "Wh-...what hurts?"
"Everything," she said as the tears slipped from her eyes. "Seeing you here...wanting to do nothing but kiss you and hold you-"
Closing his eyes, he shook his head as he felt his anger clawing at his control again. She was standing there, gripping him in fear of him leaving her again, feeling desperately lost without him. All he could feel was anger at seeing her that way, and knowing that he couldn't give her what she wanted. It hurt him too, but in a very different way.
It was maddening.
Grabbing her hands, he went to pull them off his coat as she pushed up on her toes and kissed him.
It startled him that he gasped before stepping back, breaking contact as they stared at one another.
As he stared at her, he could tell that she was holding so much in. Her love and anger, her pain and sorrow. It broke his heart to know that she held so much love for him that she would throw herself like that at him. She was willing to give him it all, risk it all, everything, to have him again.
And that was what he was to her; he was her everything. He saw that now. He wasn't just a man she was with, he was the only man who held her life in the palm of his hands. For some reason, that broke his reserve. To know that someone valued him that much. That someone needed him so desperately in order to go on.
He didn't know how it happened, but one moment he stepped toward the door to leave and the next he dropped his bag and pushed her against the wall to kiss her back.
He could blame his warring emotions, his buzzed head, or his uncertainty with life, but what it all came down to was his sudden need to be with someone. His sudden desire to feel alive, that he wasn't a nobody with no life. To feel connected.
She was there, she wanted him, and he wanted her but not for the same reasons as her. When she kissed him back furiously, it was with a purpose, with a love and knowledge of the man she loved. She knew what made him go crazy, what fueled his passion and lust as she pulled his tongue and lips from his and attacked his ear, forcing a groan out of him as he felt his desire growing.
Her hands pushed at his shoulders, shoving the coat down his arms and off his body as his lips found her neck. Once his hands were free he pushed them under her shirt, feeling her soft smooth skin. As she tried to push herself off the wall, he kept pushing her back into it as he was nearly blinded with want and need.
"Bobby, the bed..." she gasped out.
He groaned from having to break contact but finally backed off enough to pick her up and walked the four feet to the mattress where he took them both to the bed. She knew exactly where to touch him to draw the moans and groans from his throat as he was still figuring out which spot on her neck made her shiver beneath him. It was frustrating, the not knowing, because she was quickly working him up while she was still able to think straight.
Before she was even ready, he pushed up onto his knees and pulled his shirt off before helping her with hers. Pushing her back down, he took her breasts into his hands and mouth, drawing a sigh out of her as she squirmed under him.
He knew he was rushing it, that he wasn't taking his time to explore, to make love to her, and to satisfy her not only sexually but emotionally. He was afraid if he lingered, if he took his sweet time and made her feel complete, that she would think he was back. That he was there, and that he loved her again when all this was to him was something physical; something to indulge in and to take his mind off the anger.
He had the rest of her clothes off in seconds before he took off his jeans. His boxers didn't make it all the way down his thighs before he was taking her. She let out a near yelp and hiss of pain as he forced his way through the tightness that surrounded him. She hadn't been ready and it had been abrupt, that it hurt, but he couldn't stop himself.
She had her hands on him, moaning and groaning against him softly as he kept his pace fast and hard. Feeling her nails scrapping his back, it drove at his nerves, his frustration. Pushing up on his knees again, he grabbed her hands and pinned them down with one hand over her head, keeping them there as he buried his face in her neck and drove in harder, faster, and in silence until it was over.
She kept it all in, her pleas of pleasure, as he let out a sharp gasp then groan as he came. Finally releasing her hands, he left her body and rolled onto his back as he closed his eyes, and cursed himself.
He felt physically exhausted and satisfied, but mentally, he felt disgusted with himself for giving into her like that. It had felt...strange, like he was alone even though they had been together.
He couldn't help but think that they had had sex like lonely strangers, silent and apart. So much so that he couldn't look at her as he got up and pulled his clothes on.
She didn't say anything for a long time until he was pulling on his pants. "You're leaving?"
"I have to," he simply said as he zipped up his zipper.
"Why, Bobby?"
He didn't know if she was asking him why he was leaving, or why he had let himself lose it like that. Figuring it was the former, he said, "I know that this isn't all you need...and I can't give you the rest."
Meeting her eyes, the pain and hurt he saw in them killed him. He felt dead, and maybe that was what he was with no memory, with no life. He felt like a dead man.
"I'm sorry," he said as the guilt pounded down on him like waves from a rolling, dark, sea.
He grabbed his coat and backpack off the floor and didn't take the time to pull either on before he opened the front door and left.
Major Case Squad
Hollow, that was what she was feeling as she sat in the conference room, lost in her thoughts of the night before. She'd felt this way before, long ago, when the love of her life had died. It was a hollowness that ripped at her heart and drove it to the pit of her stomach. The pain she'd felt hearing that Bobby had lost his memory was nothing compared to the pain she'd felt when he left her last night.
She shook her head at that thought. To say the man who'd left her last night was Bobby wasn't correct. It was just the only name she had for him. For his voice and his eyes, his smile and his body, his smell. However, the person that had kissed her, that had taken her on the mattress on the floor, that was not Bobby. It had been this Robert that had taken him over the moment he'd awoken without a single memory of Bobby, of Bobby's life and experiences, of Bobby's feelings and thoughts, or of Bobby's love of her.
She didn't know Robert, and with that knowledge she realized that she now didn't know Bobby. The man that had been with her last night had felt like a stranger, and that had caused all the pain and sadness that had rocked her last night after he had left.
She had laid there, her only warmth and comfort coming from the fire that raged in the fireplace, and let it all out the only way she could, through tears. She wanted to do more; she wanted to go out and find him just to hit him over and over again as she screamed out her anguish at him.
Then, she reasoned that it wasn't his fault. He didn't want to stay. He had tried to leave and he even, in his own way, tried to warn her, to tell her that he wasn't the man she so desperately longed for. That he wasn't her Bobby.
She had kissed him first. She had tempted him, held onto him, and nearly demanded for him to be with her.
She had brought it on herself, but that didn't change the fact that she also felt so much anger toward Robert for leaving. She understood why, and because she understood was another reason that it hurt so bad. Another reason why she felt so hollow.
Logan waved a hand in front of her, saying, "Earth to Eames, come in."
Alex blinked back and looked up at him in confusion. "What?"
Logan smiled a little as he said, "Were you daydreaming on me?"
"No, course not, just thinking."
"About?"
She shook her head as she looked at the files spread out over the table. "Has dental come back yet?"
Thankfully Logan wasn't the type of guy to try and pry into her private life and thoughts, he seemed to be glad that she changed the topic. "Yeah. The vic has been positively ID'd as Brenda Hanson."
"How about prints from the wallet?"
"Only Goren's were found. Eames, you know this. You were the first one to read over CSU's findings of the scene."
Alex knew that, but she was having a hard time focusing on anything other than last night. Picking up the file again, she re-read it, this time really trying to focus on the words and their meaning. Then a thought formed in her head as it begun to clear. "Who bailed her out?"
Logan looked up from the file he was reading and realization dawned in him as he picked up what she was thinking. Reaching over, he grabbed his cell and placed a call. "Hey, Leanna, it's Mike Logan. I'm doing okay...Yeah, Major Case..." he smiled a little and Alex saw his face slightly redden. Logan glanced over at her and cleared his throat as he said a little too sternly into the phone, all business now, "Listen, I need to know who posted bail on a victim of ours. Yeah, a Brenda Hanson. It would've been two weeks ago. I can wait, thanks." He leaned back in the chair as he asked her, "What?"
Alex just shook her head at him.
"It was a long time ago, when I was with the 2-7."
"Why are you defending yourself to me, I'm not your girlfriend."
Logan went to say something, probably some smart-ass reply, when he sat up as he said into the phone, "Yeah, I'm here...Are you sure?" he asked as he wrote the name down in his notepad. "Thanks again...Oh, I would but...No, no it's...Yeah, I'm seeing someone. Okay. You too," he said before the shut his phone. At catching her look, he said again, "A long time ago."
Alex just rolled her eyes before asking, "Who posted the bail?"
Logan smirked as he told her, "Guess."
"Nicole?"
"Yep, but not as Nicole, but as Elizabeth Hitchens."
Alex felt that they finally had her, and at the same time that they could help in Bobby's defense. They could now prove that Nicole had contact with their victim. It wasn't a solid acquittal of Bobby's indictment, but it got them that much closer to proving his innocence.
What wasn't getting them closer to proving his innocence was on the second page of the report from CSU. Detective Fin from SVU had the lab run tests on the sheets and blanket at the motel and they'd just received the results back. The hospital found no evidence of sexual intercourse, but the lab had.
That knowledge twisted her stomach and made her body ache with anger and disgust. It was a good thing that Bobby had no memory. For him to know he'd been violated again would've been too much. She dreaded telling him, of him finding out, but she knew he would have to know sooner or later.
She opted for later as she shoved the report back into the file and rubbed at her suddenly pounding head. She needed caffeine, and aspirin, and more caffeine. Probably some food too as she looked at her watch; it was going on one in the afternoon. "Lunch?"
Logan dropped the file and stood while pushing his chair back. "About time you offered," he teased as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and pulled it on.
As they headed toward the elevators, they passed Barek in the hall as she escorted the uniform officer who had been stationed outside of Caleb Cunningham's hospital room the night he had been murdered. "What's going on?" Alex asked her as Logan continued to the elevators, leaving them to talk alone.
"Just some routine followup questions," Barek told her as she gestured for the officer to walk ahead of her into the squad room. "How's your case going?"
"Good. We found out that Nicole was the one who bailed Brenda out of jail two weeks ago."
"Where're you heading now?"
"Lunch," she said as she gestured to Logan who was impatiently waiting for her to hurry up.
"Well, if you can wait a little longer, I was going to see if it was okay with the Captain for you to sit in on the interview."
Alex was surprised by that seeing how Deakins and Barek were working the case together. She didn't want to push her Captain aside, but at the same time she wanted to see what this interview was all about.
"You and Logan were the first ones to talk to him at the scene. You would notice any discrepancies."
"I'd love to. Logan," she called down the hall. "We're sitting on the interview before we go."
Logan groaned as he started heading back toward the squad room. "Fine, but you're buying," he said as he pointed at her.
Alex smiled as she turned back to Barek. "He only thinks I'm buying," she told her as they all walked back into the squad room.
"Officer McBride," Barek said as she shut the door and looked at the cop. "I'm Detective Barek, and you remember Detective Eames."
McBride smiled at the both of them as he took a sip of water out of a small water cooler cup. "Yea, I remember. You were at the hospital. You and that other Detective, Logan."
Alex pulled out a chair and sat down while Barek did the same. Even though Barek had told her that this was nothing but a routine interview, she got the feeling that it was a lot more than that.
Letting Barek take the lead since it was her case, and interview, Alex sat back and waited to see where this was headed.
Barek opened the file she had in her hands and proceeded to ask a few standard questions about the time, about Bobby's appearance at the hospital and the words exchanged between the two, and then the time Bobby left.
Then Barek asked, "Do you identify this woman," as she pulled out a photo and placed it in front of him.
Alex saw that it was the grainy photo from the surveillance footage her and Logan were able to get from the hospital.
McBride looked it over and then shook his head, saying, "It could be the nurse. I'm not sure, it's hard to tell."
"What about now?" Barek asked as she placed a mugshot of Nicole Wallace in front of him.
At seeing that picture, McBride stiffened and then tried to hide his reaction as he leaned back in the chair and pushed the photo away. "No, that's not her."
Barek asked, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, that's not the nurse."
"Why do you think that I'm asking about the nurse?"
McBride was caught off guard by that question, as he should be. Barek never once said the word ''nurse" while asking him about her. "I just assumed-"
"No, see," Alex said, picking up where Barek was heading with this interview. "You know it's who she was referring to because it is her. The nurse you saw in the hall, who you told to go into Caleb's room, was this woman," she said as she pushed the mugshot of Nicole back over to McBride.
The officer shifted in the seat as he sighed, saying, "It could be, alright. I don't know. It was lights out, dark. It was hard to tell what she looked like."
"But you know what she sounded like," Alex said.
"Her accent, McBride," Barek said, "What would you call it?"
McBride leaned on the table and rubbed at his head.
"British? Or how about Australian?"
"Australian, I think," he finally answered as he pushed the photo away again.
"And how long was she in the room exactly before she called out that the vic was dead?"
McBride sighed into his hand as he shook his head. "A few minutes, I guess. Look, I don't-"
"You were told to stand guard outside of Caleb's hospital room, yet you left your post when Detective Goren arrived. Why?" Barek asked, keeping the cop off guard and making him more agitated.
"Come on officer, she didn't make it worth your while?" Alex asked as she stood and leaned over the table, getting into the officer's face.
McBride suddenly stood as he said, "I'm done here. If you have any more questions, you talk to my lawyer and union rep."
"Don't go too far, Officer," Barek told him as he went to open the door.
McBride glared at the both of them before jerking the door open and stalking out.
"He sold Bobby out," Alex said as she watched McBride leave the squad room.
"I don't know why. How could she turn McBride against one of his own?"
Alex sighed heavily as she told her, "You don't know Nicole. And, you weren't here to know Bobby's rep with the other boys in blue either."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, they don't look upon him like a brother. It would've been a piece of cake to get a cop to turn on him," Alex told her before she left the room.
After they filled Deakins in on the interview and what they suspected of Officer McBride, her and Logan finally left the squad room to get lunch.
The moment she was out in the cold, walking the two blocks to the sandwich shop they both enjoyed, Alex's thoughts strayed once again to the night before and how she felt that it had changed everything.
What that meant for the both of them, she didn't know yet, and she felt too afraid to figure it out. Not once did she worry or think about where Bobby had gone or what he was now doing. If she had, maybe she would have noticed the man she passed on the street who'd accidentally bumped into her on his way to One Police Plaza.
TBC...