A/N: If you haven't read the first part to this, "Bleeding Drops of Red" then some of this isn't going to make sense. So just warning you now to spare confusion. Oh, and thank you whole heartedly for the reviews! Keep 'em coming!

Enjoy!

Bobby got up three hours later and was showered and dressed before the sun broke over the horizon. Going down into the kitchen, he took in the empty cabinets and refrigerator and yearned for a cup of coffee. His head was starting to pound from lack of caffeine as he pulled out his cell phone. Using the internet on his cell he found a few local diners that were open at five in the morning.

The closest place to their location was a place called The Fisherman's Friend , and it started serving breakfast at five. The diner was a good friend indeed to start that early. He went back up to the bedroom and retrieved his gun from the nightstand, tucking it behind his back in the waistband of his pants, and then grabbed the keys.

As he drove around the streets he quickly realized how "small town" the area was. Houses were made into local family businesses, the church he passed had families names on the sign, thanking them for their contributions, and the few people he saw stared at his vehicle like he was from another planet. As he parked the SUV in the small lot next to the diner, he took in the time and noticed he was right on time as the morning sun started to peek over the Atlantic.

Getting out, he locked the door as he saw an older man looking to be in his 80's walk out of the diner's front door. Bobby smiled a little as they walked toward each other.

"Never seen you around here before, you a tourist?" the old man asked as he dug into the breast pocket on his shirt for a matchbook.

Bobby debated about how to answer that and finally settled on, "Uh, not really. I'm from Brooklyn."

"Ah, then you're here for the summer," the old man said as stuck a cigar in his mouth and lit it.

That would work. Bobby gave a nod as he took some change out of his pocket and bought a paper from the stand by the door.

The old man stuck out his hand, saying, "I'm Jack, my friends call me J.R.."

"Robert, but everybody calls me Bobby," he said as they shook hands.

J.R. pointed to the diner and told him, "Well, Bobby, this is my place. If you want some breakfast, go on in. My wife Lilly is the best cook in town."

"Yeah, thanks," he said as he opened the door, leaving the old man to smoke alone outside.

Being the first customer of the day, he was greeted to the empty diner and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Sliding onto a stool at the counter, he picked up the menu that was already out and looked it over. At seeing the words take-out, he smiled as an older woman approached with a wide smile on her face. The name tag on her apron read Lilly .

"You don't look like a fisherman?"

"Oh?" he asked as he sat the menu down. He was dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a short sleeve button-down flannel, his sneakers and no socks, just the way he liked it.

Leaning against the counter, she said good-naturedly, "You look like a cop."

Bobby nearly laughed as he gave a nod. "You're good."

She laughed a little as she told him, "Not that good, hansom. My daddy was a cop and you have that same look. So, hon, coffee to start you off?"

"Yes, please. Regular."

"Didn't take you for the decaf type," she said as she walked over to the coffee pots.

He heard the door chime, indicating someone had walked in and looked toward the door. Three men walked in together and headed for a booth by the front windows.

"Morning fellas," Lilly called out to the men as she grabbed the regular coffee pot and an empty cup.

"Morning, Lilly," one of the men called out. "Coffee all around."

Bobby checked the time and wondered if he had enough time to stay and read the paper or to hurry up and get back. He probably did. Alex had gone to bed the same time as him, but unlike him, she was troubled by his demons. She would still be asleep.

"I'll be right with you, " she told the man before addressing him. "Late for something already? The day's just getting started," she said as she placed the empty cup in front of him and filled it.

Bobby smiled a little, rubbing as the stubble on his chin as he asked, "It doesn't say on the menu but do you make egg-white omelets?"

She gave him a look and said, "You're not wearing a wedding ring but I'm certain the egg-white isn't for you."

Bobby was really liking this woman as he smiled a little. "Not a wife, no, but a...long-term partner. She's still asleep, that's why I was checking the clock."

"I gotcha, hon. Two orders to go then?" she asked as she took out her order book and pen.

"Three, actually. We have a-a, uh, a twenty-two year old."

"Son, daughter?"

Bobby took a sip of the coffee and tried not to choke on it as she asked that. He nodded a little as he said, "A girl, yeah."

Lilly gave him some parting words of advice on parenting, and about calling his adult daughter a 'girl', before taking his three orders down and then disappearing into the kitchen.

As he flipped the paper over and begun reading the top stories, he wondered how Alex would react to the town thinking that she was his girlfriend and that Stacey was their daughter. Probably the same way he was taking it, with an amused smirk on his face.

Over an hour later, he returned to the house with two bags containing Styrofoam take-out containers and a drink holder that held three large cups of coffee and one large cup of orange juice. He put one bag on the island in the middle of the kitchen and the other in the refrigerator. Grabbing a coffee, he took a sip as he headed through the first floor and out onto the porch.

The sun was full and round over the horizon as it heated his face while he sat on the steps and pulled out a pack of cigarettes he'd bought from the corner store that had been next to the diner. As he smoked, he watched the fishing vessels and tugs slowly cross the open ocean before him. He watched as the birds swooped down then up, darting around trying to caught a bite to eat from the fishing lure and nets. Once he had smoked one and finished half his coffee, he got up and went back inside.

He could hear a shower going upstairs as he walked by the staircase and down the hall into the kitchen. At seeing the door to the basement, he remembered how Alex said she hadn't checked it last night. He sat the cup down and opened the door and flipped on the light. He reached around his back for his gun, even though he knew he wouldn't need it, before descending the steps.

As soon as he reached the bottom, he relaxed and put the gun back. To his left was a door that lead into a huge laundry room, storage space, and off that was where the hot water heater, circuit box, and furnace were located. The rest of the basement had been remodeled into a home gym.

"Alex is going to love this place," he muttered to himself as he looked around.

At hearing someone in the kitchen, he hurried up the steps and turned off the light.

Speaking of Alex, she was standing at the island with a huge smile on her face. Her hair was still wet from the shower and pulled back. When she saw him, she said, "I knew there was a reason why I keep you around."

Bobby opened one bag and search through the take-out containers. The top one was his order, the second one was Alex's, and the third one he hoped Stacey would like, which contained something of everything. "There's another bag in the refrigerator," he told her as he placed a box in front of her.

Alex turned around and opened the refrigerator to grab the other bag as Stacey entered the room.

She was still in her pajamas and had a purple robe tied tightly around her body. On her feet he noticed a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. Stacey sat down at the counter and asked, "Are they all coffee? "

"No, uh..." Bobby looked the cups over and saw the one marked with a black marker. "This one's orange juice."

"And there's apple, grape juice and milk boxes in here," Alex said as she sat the other bag on the island. "As well as fruit and yogurt. Help yourself."

Bobby sat the third container in front of Stacey as he told her, "I hope you're not a picky eater because I didn't know what you'd like, so..."

Stacey flipped the lid opened and then looked up at him. "Did you get everything on the menu?"

He shrugged, saying, "Just about." At the bottom of the bag were loads of wrapped plastic silverware and napkins. Tossing those in the middle, he announced, "Dig in."

It didn't take long before they were all relishing in the food, juice, and coffee.

"What's down there?" Stacey asked a little while later, pointing toward the basement door with the spoon full of yogurt in her hand.

"Laundry room and, uh, Eames, you're going to love this...A home gym complete with two treadmills, a stationary bike, weightlifting set, flat screen TV, stereo, and yoga mats."

Alex's eyes lit up at yoga mats and she said, "Wow, the department goes all out for these safe houses. I'm impressed."

Bobby smiled a little as he looked over at Stacey. "So, I was thinking once we all finish eating we could go into town and get some groceries."

"All of us?" Stacey asked as she lifted the Styrofoam lid of the takeout box and picked up a plastic fork.

"Yeah, that way we can all get what we want. Eames here went...vegetarian on me. What about you?"

Stacey glanced over at Alex as she said, "I can't live without a good burger or steak."

Bobby chuckled as he took a bite of his ham and cheese omelet with peppers, onion, and mushroom. "I agree, and I saw a grill in the garage."

"Hey," Alex said as she cut a piece of the egg white omelet he'd gotten for her and glared over at him. "Because of my recipes, and all the lunches I've been bringing you, I've gotten you down a few sizes, Mister I-can't-go-a-day-without-bad-carbs-and-soda."

"Bad carbs or not, it's damn good food."

Alex just rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. "And beyond what you'd like to believe, you're not 40 anymore."

"Which is exactly why I shouldn't have to give up steak or pasta," Bobby said as he took a glance over at Stacey.

She seemed a little lost in her own world, but relaxed non-the-less. The friendly banter and light teasing had helped to set her at ease, and that was what he was hoping for. He could imagine the kind of chaos and turmoil she'd been living for so long.

"And why's that?"

"Because I've lived the first forty years of my adult life trying to impress women, and now I no longer have anyone to impress. I'm fifty, single, and pretty soon I'm going to be retired. This is the time of my life to enjoy what I can. Work, food-"

"Don't you think you've been having too much enjoyment?" Stacey asked with a hint of a smirk on her face.

Bobby sat staring at her for a moment and then smiled a little. "I'm glad to hear your sense of humor's returning."

Stacey got up from the island and as she went to leave the room, said with a slight amused smile on her face, "Who said I was joking?"

Bobby watched her leave the room before looking over at Alex. "It's like having another you around here, isn't it?"

"Oh, please, if anything she's reminding me of you." Alex took a few more bites of her food and was done. As she finished off the rest of her coffee, she looked over at him and smirked. "You're good. In one setting you got her to not only relax and maybe feel like she was a part of us, but you informed her that she has nothing to be afraid of being here is us, or with you."

Bobby smiled at little as he cleared the island of the empty food containers and to-go cups. "I know that feeling, you know. Being around new people, in a new environment, and not knowing what to expect...It can be nerve-wrecking. And add to that her past experiences with sexual abuse, she needed to know that there's no danger here."

"I thought she already felt safe with you?"

He tossed the trash away in the bags he'd brought the food back in as he told her, "Maybe she did then, but...the mind, it can do some funny things, make people forget. She could feel some security just knowing I'm a cop, but the more I'm around her the less she'll continue seeing me as a cop."

"She'll start seeing you as a man."

"Right, and maybe her mind will try and convince her that I'm a man who might want to hurt her. The last thing we need is for her to turn against me, or the both of us. The more we re-enforce to her that this is a safe environment, the better off we're going to be at helping her regain her strength and confidence," he said as he started for the front porch. He needed another smoke.

As he lit one up, he heard the sliding door open and glanced over his shoulder to see Alex coming out to sit next to him on the steps. Before she could say anything, he said, "I know."

She peered over at him as she sipped on the last of her cup of coffee. "Know what?"

"I'm breaking my 'no smoking' rule."

She smirked slightly as she asked, "I wasn't going to ask, but now that you bring it up..."

He leaned on his knees as he stared down at the chipped faded grey colored steps. "It's nothing," he told her as he shook his head. He couldn't do this now...He wouldn't do this now.

"It's something if it's causing you to smoke again. You're doing so good, Bobby. Working out three times a week, watching what you eat and drink, even riding a bike to work all the way from Brooklyn. Something's going on if you're buying those."

Sighing, he said, "I haven't been able to sleep a full night since...since my birthday." Looking over at her, he explained, "I keep thinking about it."

Alex frowned in confusion, asking, "Which part? It was a good night."

"Yeah," he said as he looked away, back down at the steps and then over the dune toward the water. "It was. It's just..." he trailed off as his nerves started to get to him. He felt the anxiety and the anger rushing up from his depths. Focusing his breathing, and trying not to sound like he was accusing her, said, "It was the first time we had any physical contact since I kissed you in the captain's office when you fired me. And, the last time before that was...was...that night."

Alex had stiffened next to him and he couldn't blame her. They hadn't talked about that night in nearly two years. Not since he left New York, not since he returned from his mission with the FBI, bringing Ross's killer to justice...not since she told him they didn't love each other.

"I don't know, but...it's been on my mind a lot and I can't get it out," he finally said as he took a glance over at her.

She was looking out toward the ocean, a faint frown on her lips as her eyes knitted against the sunlight. "I told you that there was nothing wrong with a friendly kiss between-"

"They seemed like more than friendly pecks on the cheek, Alex," he said bitterly, maybe a little too bitter.

She stared over at him as she said, "What're you trying to say? That you want-"

"I don't know what I'm trying to say or what I want," he bit out, cutting her off. This wasn't about that; it was about her not knowing what she wanted. Or that maybe she did but was too scared to admit it. "All I know is every time I think we're past...that, you do something that throws me off, like kissing me, on the lips, more than once. I'm not the one going around-" he stopped as he turned away from her prying eyes and hard stare. She looked ready to hit him.

"Going around and what, Bobby?! What am I possibly doing-"

"You're..." he sighed as the tried not to get angry as he heard the anger in her voice. "I mean do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"What I'm doing? Look who's talking-"

He turned to her, feeling his anger getting the best of him as he said, "Me! I'm not the one leading you around in circles! I'm not the one going over to your apartment on your birthday and trying to make out with you on your couch."

"Oh, christ," she said as she got up and headed toward the door. "Stop taking everything so literally."

"How am I supposed to take it?! Figuratively? I can't take something that actually, literally happened, and pretend it didn't!" he called out after her as she went inside the house and slammed the sliding door shut.

He finished off the smoke and stood as he went back inside. Going up to the second floor, he heard music coming from the master bedroom as he went into the room he was using and closed the door.

He felt his pulse racing as he sat at the desk, turned on his laptop, and opened a file.

Awhile later, as he was pouring over photos from the car bombing, he heard a tap on the door. Not taking his eyes off the photographs he had sprawled out over the floor, he called out, "Come in!"

The door opened and Alex stood in the entryway, arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a pair of workout sweats, a tank-top, and running shoes as she asked, "Do you want to go back to us not speaking?"

He glanced up at her as he shook his head, "No."

"Okay. And I'm sorry you can't sleep, but that's something you've got to work out for yourself. I can't help you with that." She turned and shut the door behind her, leaving him staring at the closed door.

After a brief moment, he sighed and closed his eyes as he felt his head start to pound. Reaching up, he rubbed at it as he stood from kneeling over the photos and started to pace around the small area that held no photos, files, or loose paperwork.

That hadn't been what he was trying to tell her; she'd taken it all wrong, and that angered him even more. He shouldn't have said anything; he should have just kept quiet. But he'd been trying to be more open with her lately, as part of his therapy.

He was trying to convey to her that he trusted her enough with his thoughts and feeling, and one of the ways he did that was to not lie to her. To not shut down when she tried to get too personal.

And when he did, when he let her know what was troubling him...she attacked him! He stopped his pacing as he turned and hit the closet door, hard. The pain vibrated up his arm, into his shoulder, but it wasn't enough to deter him from doing it again.

He huffed out a breath of frustration as he went back to pacing, closed his eyes, and tried to focus once again on his breathing. On letting it go.

It wasn't working. Pulling out his cell phone, he searched for a contact and hit 'call'.

After a couple of rings, she answered, "Dr. Paula Gyson."

"Hey, it's Goren."

"Hello, detective. How are you?"

He rubbed at his neck as he started to move around the room as he said, "I'm...I-,uh, I lost it, just know. I punched a door a couple of times."

"Are you injured?" she asked as worry crept into her voice.

"No, I'm fine, I'm..."

"What happened to cause you to lose it like that?"

Bobby stopped pacing as he rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed, "I tried to talk to Eames about...about a personal situation..." He had to be vague as he had yet to confide in the doctor about his history with Alex.

He had been lying when he'd told Gyson that Alex was like a sister to him. At that time, he'd only seen the doctor as someone reporting to the Brass about his ability to be a cop and Alex's partner. How could he tell her that he did love her? That maybe he did have romantic feelings for her, when he believed that Gyson would report it to the Chief. He couldn't, so he didn't.

He suspected that she knew already. He didn't think that she believed him, but he wasn't about to protect too much. He wasn't about to tell her that him and Alex had crossed that line a few years ago; that they had had sex. Nope, he definitely wasn't going to tell her that.

"You opened yourself up to her, confronted her, and she responded negatively?"

He stopped hesitating as he nodded into the phone. He liked it that she could pick up on what he was trying to say without having to come right out and say it. "Yeah."

"What were you expecting? In your head, what were in imagining as her response?"

Shrugging, he said, "I don't know. I really didn't think about it...I guess...I,uh, I guess all I was hoping for was understanding."

"How about her?"

He wrinkled his head in confusion as he asked, "What'd you mean, what about her?"

Gyson was quiet for a moment and he could tell she was smirking at him. "Put yourself in her shoes, detective. What about her feelings? If the it was her confronting you, how would've you reacted?"

He sighed as he started to pace again around the floor. This was something they'd been working on. He was good at reading people, at seeing their strengths and weakness, at reading their emotional state, but he'd mostly used that to his own advantage without taking into consideration what he was doing to them emotionally, as long as he was pushing them to the point of giving him what he wanted: mostly that meant a confession.

"She...she probably thought I was attacking her. Accusing her of...of-" he stopped as he thought of the look on her face. "She had every right to be offended. It's my fault."

"No one's at fault. You felt what you felt for legitimate reasons or else it wouldn't have bothered you. You wouldn't have felt a need to voice your concern or opinion to her. And her emotions were also a genuine response. So, what'd you think you should do about it?"

"Keep my mouth shut next time," he teased slightly. She wasn't amused, and he could tell that because she didn't say anything. "Talk to her."

"And this time, leave your expectations at the door. Go to her openly to not only express yourself freely but to also freely accept her opinion and emotions as well. You can't get angry at every time you get your wires crossed with someone. I thought we were over that."

Bobby smiled into the phone as he remembered the first time he went off on Gyson when they had a misunderstanding. "We are, but I guess me and Eames aren't. Thanks, doc."

"Good luck, and I'll see you next week? Or was it two?"

"It's uncertain at this time." He didn't tell her why he had to leave for a week or two, only that it was for a case. She never even asked him for that much, just accepted it without question and knowing he would be back.

They said their goodbye's and hung up. He stared at the case file spread out over the floor as he thought about what they'd discussed. Going back over to the photos, he knelt down on his knees and started picking them up, one by one.

It was the second to last picture. A speck of light he thought was a glare caught his attention. Bringing the picture up, he studied it more closely and realized it wasn't a glare, but a flash. Someone had been taking pictures of the scene, of the police and the CSU's, from behind the crime scene tape.

It could've been anyone, an onlooker, a reporter, but it could also be the bomber. Just like serial killers, they liked to return to the scene of the crime. They would want to keep a memento.

He went over to the desk and sat down as he opened up his email. He took down the letter and number printed on the back of the photo that was used to ID the piece of evidence. He typed a quick email to Douglas, telling him about the picture and to go back to the video that was taken of the press and bystanders who'd been standing around during that time. Maybe they had this guy on video.

After he sent the email, he gathered the rest of the file up and put it away before leaving the room. It was time to go shopping.

TBC...