Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.
Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.
A/N: You'll be pleased to hear (well some of you will be) that there's less angst in this chapter.
Alex's POV
'Is it me or is it really warm in here this morning?' I think as I start to come out of a deep sleep. A very welcome deep sleep, I haven't slept properly since we caught the Cavella case. Well no, really I haven't been sleeping all that well for about two months now.
As I slowly emerge into consciousness I realise I'm still dressed, I'm not in my own bed and I'm not alone. The first clues hit me before I open my eyes. I can feel my cloths tangled at various points on my body and the vague light I can sense even through my closed eyelids is coming from the wrong direction. Most importantly, there's the gentle pressure of another body wrapped around mine and that body smells extremely familiar. Actually the body feels familiar as well although the sensation of him being wrapped around me like this, when we're both fully clothed, is definitely odd even if the position feels unbelievably comfortable. I squirm slightly as I recall waking up in similar circumstances in my own bed two months ago, only that time we were both naked.
I slowly open my eyes and confirm my suspicions. I'm in Bobby's bed, with my head lying on one of his arms. My back is pressed against his chest and our legs are tangled together. The arm I'm resting my head on has my hands wrapped firmly around it, as though I've been afraid in the night that he might try to leave me. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, keeping me safely cocooned against him. I have to admit waking up with Bobby Goren wrapped around me is certainly one of the most pleasant experiences of my life. I also have to admit it was even better last time, when I could feel his skin pressed against mine.
I feel myself begin to tense as I remember, at least in part, how we ended up like this. I remember telling Bobby about my teenage pregnancy, how it happened and the loss of my child. I remember him holding me as I cried tears of anger and pain that I'd held inside for so long. Recalling his reaction, silently comforting me and kissing away those tears, almost brings me back to the brink of tears once more. I suppress the impulse to cry and a shudder runs through my body in response. His arm tightens around me and I realise he's awake.
"Bobby?" There's so much we didn't talk about last night and as I speak his name I realise my voice is still thick with emotion.
"I'm right here." There's no hint of sleepiness in his voice as he replies to me, his voice soft and full of tenderness.
I wonder for a moment how long he's been awake, laying there watching me sleep. I decide I rather like the idea of him holding me like that, it's actually rather comforting. My reaction surprises me, usually that sort of thing would creep me out a little, make me feel vulnerable but not when it's him doing it.
"How did we end up in here?" That part of last night I don't remember.
The last I can recall we were sitting on his couch, his arms wrapped around me and me holding on to him as if he were the only solid thing in the world. I'd stopped crying by then but he still hadn't spoken, as if he knew I needed his silence more than any words he could possibly have said. I just needed him to hold me and I was grateful that he realised that, rather than trying to analyse what I had told him. I remember feeling exhausted, as it recounting the occurrences of thirteen years ago had sapped all the strength from my body. Oh God, don't tell me I fell asleep on him, not after pouring all that out onto him.
"You kinda dozed off, so I carried you through here." There's no judgement in his voice, no disappointment. "I didn't want to leave you alone, so I decided to sleep in here with you. I hope you don't mind?"
'What kind of question is that?' my inner voice snarks at him. "I don't mind. I kinda like waking up with you."
Oh no, I did not just say that. I can just picture the half smile that has to have come to his mouth at my inadvertent admission. 'Note to self – remember not to talk to Bobby while still half-asleep before having coffee – especially when in an already compromising position.' The snark-monster in my head comments.
"I kinda like waking up with you as well." I feel his lips gently caress my cheek. "Now that you're awake …"
I'm expecting him to suggest that we continue last night's conversation.
"… how about I put on a pot of coffee, while you go grab a shower? You've still got some stuff here."
Coffee? Shower? No I don't want to give up the warm, comfortable cocoon of his limbs just yet.
"Would you …" How do I ask this without sounding completely needy and pathetic? Oh, hell, just ask. "Would you mind if we just stayed like this a little longer? I mean, if you don't have any plans for the day, and as we don't have to go into work?" My voice is, at least, calm and sounds like me.
"The only plan I have for today is to spend it with you. If that's okay?" There's just a hint of uncertainty in his voice, as if he thinks I might be about to rebuild the wall I've put between us recently and that is now little more than a pile of rubble.
"I like that idea." I snuggle my back more firmly against his chest and sigh as the fingers that lay against my stomach start to gently caress me.
I don't think he's even aware of what he's doing as his fingers softly stroke me through the fabric of the blouse I'm still wearing. I do know that I don't want him to stop, not just because it feels so good, so right somehow. It's mainly because it makes me feel safe, loved, accepted; despite everything I told him last night.
It must be a good ten minutes before either of us speaks again.
"Alex?" His voice is tentative, I wonder if he thinks I've gone back to sleep?
"Hmmm?" I can't be bothered to speak, this position is very … now what's the right word, ah yes there it is … lulling.
"I really need to use the bathroom. I'm gonna need my arm back." He kisses my cheek again as he finishes speaking.
I realise that I've still got both my hands wrapped around his arm that is underneath my head. I unlock my fingers from around his arm and shift my head over to the pillow as he begins to untangle his limbs from mine.
I roll over and watch him as he walks across to his bathroom. How does he manage to look so delicious even when he's wearing the rumpled clothes he's slept in all night? He turns slightly as he reaches the door and smiles at me. I feel my heart and stomach flutter, as my lips return his smile. Then he steps through the door and closes it behind him.
I flop onto my back, staring at his ceiling for a moment as my mind finally kicks into gear and starts to take an automatic inventory of what clothing I might have left at his apartment. I'm pretty sure there's a pair of jeans and at least a couple of tops, plus some underwear upstairs in the room I've used in the past when I've stayed here. I know there's definitely one change of work clothes but I'd rather not wear those today, if I'm lucky I'll be needing them tomorrow morning.
I slip from beneath the covers that smell intoxicatingly of my partner and go over to the door that currently separates us. Knocking gently, to get his attention above the water I can hear running, I let him know what I'm doing.
"I'm gonna go upstairs and grab that shower you suggested. I'll put the coffee on while I'm going. Okay?" How does my voice manage to sound so normal, as if this is an everyday occurrence?
"Okay." From the slightly mumbled reply I'd guess he's brushing his teeth.
I'm sitting at Bobby's kitchen table, watching as he makes pancakes and chops fruit to go with them. I'd forgotten, or tried hard to forget, how comfortable it feels to sit here and watch him prepare breakfast. We tend to grab something quick when we're heading into work but on those rare occasions (okay not that rare – I think it happened five times in the three months I was a 'regular' guest in his home) when I've woken here on a work-free, weekend morning in the past he's always insisted on making a 'proper' breakfast. Sometimes it would pancakes or waffles, other times bacon and eggs, on one occasion I seem to recall bacon, eggs, hash browns, waffles, the whole shebang.
The first time he insisted of feeding me like this I accused him of trying to fatten me up. I did not make that mistake a second time. He'd stepped around the table to get a better look at me, scanning me from head to toes and back again, before quirking an eyebrow at me and commenting that there was nothing wrong with my figure so far as he could see. I'd almost died of embarrassment but I hadn't let it show. He had the ability to reduce me to the level of a befuddled teenager even back then.
I snap out of my thoughts as he puts a plate down in front of me. He sits down next to me, rather than opposite me as he has on previous occasions when we've eaten together at this table, and the warmth of his leg as it brushes against my knee is ridiculously distracting. Quite how I've managed to keep a handle on things between us at work over the past couple of months I'll never know. I just hope we can adjust to the changes that the current shift in our relationship will obviously require.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I can feel the weight of the impending conversation weighing on me, so I decide to take the necessary first step.
"Bobby, about last night …" I am amazed at how composed I sound, considering the several million butterflies currently taking flight in my stomach.
"You want to know what I think about what you told me." It's not a question.
I nod in response and sigh. Meeting his eyes I see reflection of my own pain there and my guilt returns. How could I have burdened this man, who carries so many burdens already? I'm sure even his broad shoulders can only take so much weight.
He straightens in his chair, putting his fork down beside his plate and turns slightly to give me his full attention.
"I think it took a great deal of courage to go through what you did and come out of the other side the person you are." He doesn't break eye contact as his hand finds mine on the table and he threads his fingers through my own. "You've had to deal with this alone for what, twelve years?"
My voice is almost a whisper as I correct him. "Thirteen."
"Christ, Alex, you were what, nineteen. Still little more than a child yourself. To deal with being raped, losing your virginity against your will, then discovering you were pregnant. Then to have to try and make that kind of decision without the help of your family. I'm not sure how any woman can deal with that decision but at that age and alone. Worse still, under those circumstances. I wish I could have been around to help you, but that's crazy, isn't it?"
I smile softly at that, Bobby was in the army when I was at college. He was probably in some other country at the time.
That Bobby would consider a drunken teenager getting his girlfriend even more drunk and taking advantage of her, as being rape hadn't occurred to me. I never really considered that the circumstances of that night were rape. I suppose really I should have. I've buried the memory so deep and for so long that I hadn't thought about the conception so much as I had the pain of the miscarriage. That my partner shows no disgust or pity as he speaks, purely concern and understanding, especially given his view of that night's events, means a great deal to me. That this man, who means so much to me, refuses to see me as a victim is very important to me.
"Not crazy, just pretty unlikely." I squeeze my fingers between his, silently urging him to go on.
He nods, squeezes my hand in turn and continues. "I'm sorry you're first time was like that. Any man who would treat a woman that way deserves nothing but contempt and that doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about the man who did that to you."
I drop my eyes from his. I wasn't sure if I'd actually mentioned that night at the party being my first time but obviously I did. He lets me get away with hiding my eyes as he continues to speak.
"I'm so sorry, Alex, that you lost her like that. That you didn't get the chance to change your mind properly. That so many decisions were taken from you in so little time. I know that doesn't really help any but I am sorry." The sadness in his voice is clear, yet it is tinged with concern for me.
He falls silent for a moment and I raise my eyes to his once more, searching for some hint of reproach there. I find none. Instead there is a deep and profound respect, an acknowledgement of the reality of the pain I have carried within me for so long. There is nothing there that doesn't offer me support, love, some relief from my burden. Even the sorrow I see there is for me, for my child, not for any loss he may have suffered if I have somehow tarnished his perception of who I am.
"I'm glad you managed to come through it. That you managed to survive to become the woman you are. I can't begin to imagine how it was for you then or how it's been for you in the years in between. I wouldn't presume to even try. I don't think any man, especially one who has never been a father, can truly understand that kind of loss. It makes me feel incredibly proud of you. That you managed, somehow, to carry such a burden for so many years without it making you bitter. Without becoming resentful of others' happiness in their own children. To still be able to take joy in your family's children as you so obviously do. I don't know if this sounds crass or phoney but it's how I feel. I'm honoured that you count me a good enough friend to be able to confide in me about this."
Dropping his eyes from mine, he raises our joined hands and kisses each of my fingers softly, barely touching his lips against my skin. The last few bricks of my defences crumble to dust under the weight of his earnest declarations and the lightness of his kisses. I feel a stirring within me that I no longer wish to deny.
"Bobby." His name passes my lips in a breathless gasp and his eyes immediately lock with my own.
I can see his passion, carefully held in check, in those wonderfully dark eyes of his and I know that what I am about to ask of him will not be rejected. That he will not find fault with my need for him.
"Alex?" My name passes his lips as a question. Even though he knows what it is I need from him now, he will wait for me to ask him. He will not deny me my right to choose, especially at this moment, with this new knowledge he has of my past.
"Make love to me. Please, Bobby." I'm surprised at the raw desire in my voice, even though I can feel it pulsing through my veins.
He doesn't say another word as he stands, drawing me slowly from my chair by our joined hands, and leads me towards his bedroom.