Chapter 11

They made love for the second time, and as she drifted to sleep in his arms, his mind started to race again. Bobby tried to relax. He thought about how soft her skin felt against his, and the sweetness that was her scent. But his mind derailed his efforts, conjuring up a maelstrom of worries: for Alex, for his mother, for their relationship.

Satisfied that she was asleep, he rolled over and quietly got out of bed. Bobby found Alex's laptop in the other room and started typing in his mother's symptoms.

Bobby stood by the SUV, waiting for her to emerge from Olivet's office. The door opened, and she wiped her eyes as she came out, then gave him a forced smile.

Bobby's face contorted as he went around to open the car door. "Hey," he said quietly, touching her back just before she slid into the seat. Once she was in, he shut the door and went back to the driver's side.

Alex was hiding her face from him, and more than once he saw her wipe her eyes.

"Tough one, huh?" he said quietly.

She sobbed.

He swallowed hard and tried to give her some space to recover. Bobby drove on in silence, all the way to her apartment. She stopped the crying, but there was a certain distance between them.

Bobby locked them inside the apartment and hovered near the door, waiting and wondering if she would tell him anything.

"I… I think we have to stop this," she said. "This… whatever it is between us."

His face hardly betrayed the vicious pain that ripped through his heart. He only stared at her soberly, his eyes a little dim.

"I… I'm a mess, Bobby, and it's a mistake to think that all of this is… good… for anybody. Maybe later, after… I get through this… maybe then…"

He swallowed again. "You want me to leave?"

Tears slipped down her cheeks and she nodded.

His own eyes glimmered and he pursed his lips as he nodded. "It's your call, Alex." He walked past her and got his things from the bedroom. Bobby paused beside her, then went ahead to the apartment door. He turned back to face her, his hand still resting on the knob. "I'm still… here for you, Alex. Nothing's changed. Whatever you need…" his voice grew rough. Face red and straining against his emotions, he turned and opened it, and as he left, she heard him whisper, "I love you."

"I don't care!" Bobby muttered into the phone. "Find a place in your appointment book and fit her in!" He watched his Captain walk by, giving him the eye as he headed for his office. "Fine. Yes. Thank you." Bobby ended the call and flopped down into his desk chair, where he resumed scanning LUDS on a suspect of Logan's.

His phone rang and he snatched it up. "Goren." He laid his pen down on the line he was on in the LUDS. "Oh, Eames. How- how are you?"

It had been four days since she'd sent him home, and even though the wound was still raw, the feelings just beneath the surface, they'd both played a good game of it. They still saw each other daily, and spoke as if she were lying in the bed in his arms. They both still demonstrated the love they shared in the form of care and compassion. Only they didn't touch now. Not beyond a fraternal pat, the brush of a finger, or a bump of an arm.

Bobby wouldn't cross that line, not without her invitation. She meant too much to him.

"Okay, Bobby. Okay, I guess. How's work going?"

"It's… it's okay, kind of…"

"I wish I was back."

"Give it time."

"I got dressed without much pain today."

"You did? Good. That's good."

"Bobby, about the other night. I feel just terrible about it, but…"

"It's okay. It's what you need to do."

"I hate that I hurt you."

"You're still my friend?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I'm not hurt."

"That's BS, and you know it."

He shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh… better get… back to w-work."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later, Bobby."

"Goodbye, Eames."

"What is this new hell?" Frances Goren asked him, as he escorted her into the doctor's office.

"Ma, you said you were sick. I'm taking you to a doctor."

"I thought those mindless automatons at Carmel Ridge said I was lying."

"I don't think you're lying." He said it quietly, without a trace of effort, and she turned and stared at him until he returned the gesture. "I love you, Mom. I don't want you hurting."

She reached out and touched his cheek with her fingers, giving him a gentle pat and a smile. "Bobby!"

Bobby allowed himself a smile for her, too, and they continued into the waiting room. He picked up the forms on a clipboard at the front desk, then sat down beside her and filled them out.

"Lefty," she said, with admiration. "I never knew how you managed to do anything with the wrong hand."

He grinned. It was something she'd teased him about all his life.

"How' s your friend?" She asked suddenly, and his writing drooped below the line. He sat up straighter and replaced the pen on the paper.

"She's a lot better," he said. "Physically, she's almost fine."

"She loves you?" His mother asked.

Bobby grinned and blushed and cocked his head with a little shake. "It's not like that, Ma, we're partners."

Frances nodded. "I'm glad you've found someone. It takes a strong woman to handle you, my boy. She's got her work cut out for her."

Bobby finished with the forms, and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. He stepped back to the counter and turned them in, handing over her insurance card for the receptionist to copy.

Frances had her hand on her forehead when he returned. "You okay, Ma?"

"I'm so tired, Bobby. So very tired."