Chapter 14

"It says here you want to improve your relationships with others."

"Yeah, well… one… relationship."

"A spouse?"

"No, uh… my partner."

The Psychologist waited for him to elaborate.

"Yeah, she's my partner at work… we've been together for years… and now… it sounds inadequate to say 'girlfriend,'…"

"You're romantically involved with her?"

"Yes."

"What's her name?"

"Alex. Alexandra."

"Wouldn't you like to sit down, Mr. Goren?"

"Uh… sorry," he said, halting his pacing. Bobby dropped into the chair next to her desk.

"What kind of work do you do?"

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I'm a… detective… criminal profiler…"

He caught the quick spark in her eye. "I, uh… I don't want to talk about work. That's fine. It has nothing to do with that."

"Oh. That's interesting."

He looked up in alarm, wondering what she thought she'd discovered.

"You're having trouble in your romantic relationship, but not your professional one. That's not easy to do. You both must be remarkable people."

His cheeks reddened slightly and his knee began to bounce. "At work, you know, we both just get… so… wrapped up in the cases, we don't think about other things…"

She smiled at him.

"Look, I really don't know what to tell you. I only came because she… well, we have trouble sometimes, you know, and she thought…"

"She asked you to seek counseling?"

He gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Mr. Goren… Detective Goren, why do you think Alex wanted you to come here?"

He spent some time pressing his hand against the skin of his face. "I have a hard time… communicating," he finally said.

"That's not uncommon, as I'm sure you know."

There it was again, that knowing spark in her eye. She was on to him. Bobby's knee bounced again and he squirmed in the seat. "Look, it was an… ultimatum. So I'm here."

"Why?"

"Because it was either this or lose her."

"I understand what an ultimatum is. I was asking you why you're here."

"Look, I'm really uncomfortable with this."

"I can see that, and I'm sorry you're uncomfortable."

Bobby folded his arms and held his breath. The doctor waited. The clock ticked 53 times before he finally said, "I don't handle things well."

"What things? Give me an example."

Again, the room was filled with the ticking of the clock. Bobby became more agitated. Finally, he got to his feet and paced the room again. "Did you… pick this stuff out yourself?" he asked, pointing to some figurines on the bookshelf.

She smiled. "You were going to give me an example," she said.

Bobby jammed his hands deep into his pockets and rocked back and forth, heel-to-toe. Soon, his rocking was in time with the movement of the second hand on the clock.

"You're very good at avoidance," the doctor said. "That could strain a relationship."

"All right, fair enough," he agreed, shaking his head. "I avoid things… issues… conflict…"

"Why is that?"

Again, the silence. Finally, he shrugged. "I guess it's always worked for me."

"Oh," she said. "Has it? Worked for you?"

Alex couldn't remember the last time she was so nervous. She honestly didn't know what to expect from Bobby when he came home. She wondered if he would even come home right away.

She'd asked him to get one of the boxes out of the closet, and she was occupying her mind by sorting through it. A lot of the things inside were meaningless to her anymore. College papers that she thought were masterpieces at the time: long forgotten now; mementos from events she'd attended: weddings, baby showers. The stack of things she was keeping was beside her on the couch, and the rest was in a mess on the floor. Alex felt good about it; she felt productive.

Finally finished, she put the keepsakes into the box and carried it to the guest room. She put it on the bed. If she had as much luck with the other boxes, she could consolidate three boxes to one, and they'd have room in the closet for diapers and other necessities.

As she made her way back to the living room, she heard his keys in the door. Alex stood stock still and watched him come in the door. He held a grimace on his face.

"Hi," she said cheerfully.

Bobby scowled at her. "Hi." He walked past her to the kitchen, where he emptied his pockets on the counter. Then he picked up a novel he'd been reading and stomped off to the bedroom.

Alex heard the door close and took a breath. Apparently, counseling made him angry. Quietly, she scooped up the things off the floor and carried them to the kitchen trash can.

The phone rang, startling her. She paused a moment to still her heart, and then reached for it. "Eames," she said, all business. "Okay, yes, sir." She hung up, and Bobby's phone rang next. She picked it up and carried it to him in the bedroom.

"We're getting called out," she announced, and handed the ringing phone over. As he spoke, she went back to get their winter coats.

"Goren," he said. "Yes, sir. Be right there." He followed after her, and found she was already pulling her coat on.

Bobby slipped his own coat on and opened the door for her as they left.

It was seven degrees outside, and the wind chill was below zero. Their crime scene was in the dead center of an old freight yard, where there was no shelter from the merciless wind.

They worked it for more than an hour, and Bobby was growing impatient with the team. He sidled up to Alex and leaned down, keeping his voice low so only she could hear.

"You should go. I can get a ride back with CSU."

"And why is that, Detective?" She asked.

"It's too cold out here. You need a break from it."

"Bobby," she said, lowering her own voice. "I'm cold, but our baby is warm as toast. Stop worrying." With that, she hurried over to check on one of the teams, correcting them before they took a photograph.

Bobby shivered as the wind picked up again. He turned and met with another group that was bagging evidence behind him.

Twenty minutes later, they were finally finished at the scene and ready to head back. They walked to the SUV together and Alex walked to the passenger door. "You drive," she told him.

His face was full of worry, but he remained quiet as he took the keys and slipped around to the other side.

She sat very still, her gloved hands pressed against her rosy cheeks as he started the engine. Bobby cranked up the heater and looked her way. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Alex nodded. "My cheeks are numb," she said.

He drove out of the freight yard and got back to the city streets, proper. Bobby was about to turn into traffic, when she ordered, "Stop the car, Bobby!"

He kept his foot on the brake and she released her seat belt and scrambled to the sidewalk, where she threw up. Bobby threw the car into park and turned it off. He slammed the door shut as he rushed around to her side of the car.

She was dry heaving now, and he reached down to steady her with one strong arm. Gasping in the icy air threw Alex into a coughing fit. She finally regained control of herself and he helped her back up to her feet.

Alex nearly fainted. She leaned hard against him and he put her back in her seat. "What's wrong?" He asked, in a panic.

"I'm just… I need some water… something to eat," she said. "I should have eaten something earlier," she said.

Bobby shut the door to keep her out of the wind and glanced around. They were at the edge of the freight yard, about as far from anywhere as you could get in the City. He spotted the flickering neon of an old diner lighting up at the end of the block, in the corner of what looked to be an old warehouse. He hopped back in the car, started it, and drove them closer. Then he went around to her side and opened her door, his eyes asking the question all over again. Are you all right?

"Can you walk with me?" he asked her, his hand on her forearm.

She kept her eyes closed and shook her head. "Just bring me something, okay?"

He reached across her and restarted the engine. The heater blasted air through the vents. "Lock yourself in," he told her, and shut the door. Alex hit the lock button and Bobby jogged to the entrance of the diner.