A/N: Apologies for the delay-this was a difficult chapter to write. There has been much revision and there's a lot of emotion here.

Wall cloud: a large, lowering cloud formation (ominous) which often spawns tornadoes. Most strong tornadoes are born of wall cloud formations.

Alex had just settled Molly back into her crib after her late night feeding when a knock softly sounded at the bedroom door. She covered the baby and went to the door. Mike stood in the hall, looking weary. "I did my job. He's home."

"Where is he?"

"Downstairs on the couch. It was enough of a chore getting him into the house. I was not about to try hauling his ass up the stairs."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Aside from a head injury, your guess is as good as mine. Alex, he's all kinds of messed up right now, in his body and in his head." He started to say more but stopped. "You know how he gets."

"Head injury? How did he get that?"

"He got in a fight and some guy cracked him on the head with a glass bottle. He's lucky no one called the cops. Ross would have roasted him."

"Should I go down there?"

"For what? He's out of it. We stopped in at the emergency room on the way home. While the doctor put twenty-five stitches in his head, I checked on John, who is resting comfortably. By the time I got back, they'd knocked him out for being difficult. He started coming around as the doctor finished. By the time I got him home, he was mostly out of it again. So I manhandled him into the house and dropped him on the couch. He'll be good for at least twelve hours, I'd guess. Doctor said he had one helluva concussion."

Alex leaned her head against the door frame. "Where did you find him?"

"Canarsie Pier. I don't know how much he had to drink or what else he took, but he's in rough shape."

She scowled. "What do you mean, what else he took?"

"Exactly what I said. His BAC wasn't that high. He's got more than booze in him."

"I'm going to kill him."

"He's gonna end up doing that himself one way or another if he doesn't get a handle on his life."

She moved past him into the hall and he grabbed her arm. "Listen to me," he said firmly, a stance he rarely took with her. "There's a lot more going on with him than you know. Cut him some serious slack or you're gonna lose him."

"Explain, Logan," she demanded, hiding her fear behind arrogance.

He pulled her back into the bedroom and closed the door. "I know you don't give a damn," he said, speaking softly to avoid being overheard by little ears. "But Denise only has weeks left. They're going to take the baby soon and then she's going to die. Remember when he took off at lunchtime on Monday? Well, she collapsed at her desk and the chief called him. They put her in hospice, Alex, and they can't even make her comfortable. She's an incubator now, struggling to hold on so her baby will have a chance. She won't make it to term. Once that baby is born, they'll keep her comfortable until the end, but there's a whole lot of suffering in store for her between now and then. And that's just one thing he's dealing with. Your father's heart attack hit him hard, but he didn't want you to see that because it hit you hard, too. He wanted to comfort you, but you pushed him away, or did you forget that? You wouldn't let him get near you, and he felt that rejection hard, too. He feels everything more strongly, especially when it involves you. On top of all that, the best part of his life—his marriage to you—is on the rocks. How much more do you expect him to take? He can't cope with his life right now and no one seems willing to help him but me."

Her face revealed a complex mix of emotions. "Why didn't you tell me about Denise?"

"I didn't know; he didn't tell me. He's been trying to handle it on his own. He didn't want to bother me with it because of my problems with Carolyn, and if his head hadn't already been bleeding, I would have smacked him on it." He paused, then went on. "Alex, you really don't seem to understand how important to him you are. Without you on his side through all of this, he's not likely to come out of it intact. Things were rough when you were with Ricky, but if he thinks he's losing you now, he knows it's gonna be for good. Then...well, all he's got is me."

"What about the kids?"

"You know how he is. If his world caves in around him, he'll withdraw for awhile. He'll go someplace really dark to lick his wounds. He'll come back because of the children, but he won't be the same man. Maybe the little ones and Harry won't notice, but you can bet the farm that Maggie will." He studied her for a moment, but he couldn't read her. "He's on the edge, Alex, and there's only two ways he can go. You can do one of two things: pull him back or push him over. How this all turns out is up to you."

He pulled the door open and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. She stood there for a long time, thinking seriously about everything Mike had said. Mike had always been cautious around her, unwilling to raise her temper—a fear Bobby seemed to have lost recently. Lately, however, he threw caution to the wind for Bobby's sake. Bobby talked to Mike, and she had always resented that, but their friendship was something she could never hope to touch. It had been forged through a complicated series of events, and it was unbreakable. Her relationship with Bobby had never had a birth of fire. Rather than being forged, it had evolved over time into something complicated and stormy, full of fire and passion. A lesser woman would have given up on him long ago, but God help her, she loved him. She lost her heart to him and there was nothing she could do about that. She left the bedroom and went downstairs.

Mike had been right: he was out for the count. She studied him. He had a bloody bandage on the left side of his head and his face was bruised and scratched. His shirt was also covered with now-dried blood. She reached out and gently tugged on a wayward curl.

He's got more than booze in him. Mike's words tied a knot in her stomach. Life with Bobby was a real roller coaster, though it wasn't entirely his fault. She had to decide if the ride was worth it and her decision had to be the right one. If she made a mistake now, there would be no way to go back and fix it. She needed time to think, to decide if the joy and the pleasure he brought to her life outweighed the grief and the pain. Right then and there, she just didn't know.

He woke slowly, gradually becoming more aware of pain in his abused body. He felt a weight on his chest and, thinking one of the children must have come to sleep with him, he moved his arm to cradle the small body. But there was no child there. Confused, he slowly sat up. The pressure subsided. Pressing a hand to his throbbing temple, he forgot about the momentary discomfort. The house was dark and quiet. He rose unsteadily and went into the kitchen. After drinking two glasses of water, he took two pain killers and returned to the couch. His mind was too blurry for him to think, and he went back to sleep.

When he woke again, the gray of twilight filled the quiet house. Moving slowly, he sat up and pushed his hand through graying curls, damp with sweat and blood. He winced when his fingers grazed the wound on his head, making his headache worse, and he frowned, wondering what had caused the wound. Rising, still unsteady, he made his way to the bathroom, which was next to the door that led to the basement, where his children once hid from Martin Gomez.

He took care of business, then rinsed his head with cold water. Bracing his hands on the sink, he hung his head, eyes closed. With effort, he forced his eyes open, surprised to see blood mingling with the water that dripped from his hair. He continued to pour water over his head until it ran clear. After rubbing a towel over his still-throbbing head, he left the bathroom. His stomach growled, but the thought of food made him nauseous. He decided against finding something to eat, opting for water instead. Returning to the couch, he laid back down, closed his eyes and the darkness became total.

Tuesday night, Alex pulled the car into the driveway of her home and got out. Mike pulled in behind her and joined her at the side of the driveway. She had decided to leave the children with her sister so that she and Bobby could talk, and she also decided that it would be best for them both if Mike was there. Although he was the person closest to Bobby, Alex trusted him to help keep tempers from flaring on both sides.

The house was dark and quiet. Not even the television was on. She looked at Mike. "Are you sure he was okay when you left this morning?"

"He was alive and still sleeping, if that's what you mean. 'Okay' is a relative term."

"Did you try to wake him?"

"I did, and he woke up and talked to me, but he wasn't all there. All I got out of him was that his head hurt."

She had made the difficult decision to stay at her father's empty home with the children and Zeus. Bobby needed time to recover, and Mike stayed with him, so he hadn't been alone, except when Mike was working. She would not come home until after she talked to him. She was willing to work things out, so as far as she was concerned, the fate of their marriage rested with him. If he couldn't meet her halfway, then she would not come back. She didn't deny that they had issues to work through, but he had to be willing to work on them as well. She did not doubt that he loved her, but sometimes, love just wasn't enough. This time, though, she hoped it would be.

Entering the silent house, she flipped on the living room light. The room was empty. She went into the kitchen, returning right away. "It doesn't look like he's eaten. There's a glass in the sink, but I think he only used it for water."

They went upstairs, and Mike pushed open the bedroom door. Bobby lay on his side, back toward them, sleeping. "So, which one of us should wake him up?" she asked.

"That depends. Are you going to wake him up with a bat?"

She smirked and shook her head. "Just...stay there."

She walked over to the bed and looked down at the sleeping form of the man she loved. The sheet was gathered at his waist, revealing his strong, bare back. Looking at the scars that marred his skin, she was reminded of how different his life had been from hers. She became a cop because it was her legacy, because she had grown up adoring and hero-worshiping her father, much the way Maggie was with Bobby. Being a cop was the only career that made sense to her. But Bobby...being a cop was the one career that didn't make sense. They should be facing off from opposite sides of the law, not the bedroom. Too often, she forgot what a remarkable man he really was.

She sat down on the bed and lightly stroked his hair. To her relief, he stirred.

Slowly rolling onto his back, he looked up at her sleepily. His expression was wary but relieved. "You're home," he murmured.

"I do live here," she replied lightly.

"I...I wasn't sure anymore."

She shifted closer and laid a hand gently on his chest. After a moment, she fingered the three days' growth of whiskers on his chin. "What are we going to do?" she asked.

"You tell me."

"No, Bobby. It's not that easy. You defer to me too often, and that causes problems. A marriage is a partnership, just like our police partnership was. Equal input, equal credit. Do you remember how it worked? Even when you were way ahead of me, you always stopped to let me catch up. And when the time came to enter that interrogation room, we were both on the same page, united, together. Our marriage has to work the same way. You have to talk to me. I can't read your mind, and I'm not a profiler. I'm no good at guessing games, either. If you can't communicate with me, then this partnership is going to fall apart. Something has to change."

He had not reached out to touch her at all, and that had her worried. He thrived on physical contact, but he was withdrawn from her. She couldn't tell his state of mind.

He was quiet as he considered her words. He didn't doubt that she was right. What he doubted was his ability to change the patterns of his life. "I...I'm still new to this," he said. "I have never had to share my life before, not like this."

"You've had girlfriends before," she said reasonably.

"I have. But they had their lives and I had mine, and I never really let them into mine. So they never lasted. You know that. I...I don't do well in relationships. That's why I remained single until I married you."

She braced herself and forged ahead. "You could have married Denise."

He shook his head. "She said no," he muttered.

She could not interpret his tone, and she wondered if he regretted her refusal. She decided to poke him a little. "So you're stuck with your second choice?"

He frowned. "Second choice? No, Alex. Never...never think that. I never had a second choice. You were not available when I asked her, but if she'd said yes to me, that would have been it until I buried her. I...I'm not my father. Once I committed myself to one woman, that was it. I don't play that game. I could never be unfaithful."

"You may not do well in relationships, but there are two very notable exceptions."

"You and Denise."

"Exactly. And she was first. I guess, in some ways, I feel like I'm on her turf, and I don't like feeling that way. But you were hers first...and you've been hers for a very long time. In some ways, you still are."

He wasn't sure how he felt about what she said. He never thought of himself as belonging to anyone but her. He had never tried to analyze his relationships with her and Denise, and he had certainly never compared them. To him, they were apples and oranges, completely unrelated and distinct from each other. "It-It's different. You're different. With her, I always had love and friendship, but with you...with you I have passion, too. My world is very different with you in it, and I like it that way. I like the challenge, the stimulation. My life would be incomplete without you."

"So then why do you push me away?"

"I...I don't...I don't mean to. But when I'm troubled, I have to work things out in my head before I can even think about approaching someone else."

"What about Logan?"

"What about him?"

"You confide in him."

He felt his anger rise and he sat up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. "Are you going to use every relationship in my life against me? I never dated Mike, so why is he even an issue?"

"Because you let him in further than anyone else!"

"So I'm wrong for having a friend I can confide in? Why? Because he's not you?"

He got up and began to pace, angry and agitated. She looked toward the door where Mike stood. He was watching Bobby. Bobby finally stopped and turned toward her. "I can't live in a bubble. I love you and the kids very much, but my life has to have more or it has no real purpose. I need the job, and I need a friend who's not going to judge me, who will listen to me when I need to talk. I don't need a friend who will bail me out of jail, Alex. I need a friend who'll be in that cell next to me, just as beat up and drunk as I am."

She had to admit that he had a point. Without Mike, she would have lost him years ago. It was a debt to which she owed him, though she hated to admit it. "My father had a heart attack Saturday night. You should have stayed with me, but you didn't. Did you take off to be with her?"

He stopped pacing. "Her? Are you really going to make this about Denise? Alex, I left because you told me to leave."

She frowned. "I did not."

"Yes, you did."

"Maybe you misunderstood."

"I admit I sometimes have trouble communicating with you, but I understand English. You said 'get lost.' When I tried to say something else, you told me to shut up and leave you alone, that you didn't need me or want me there. I did what you told me to do, and I got in trouble anyway. Why do you do that to me? I can't win no matter what I do."

"Bobby...I...I don't remember any of that. The whole night is a blur. The only thing I really remember is...is Dad, laying in that bed, looking so pale...so...vulnerable. I was so...so shocked. I had no idea he wasn't feeling well. He never said a word when I dropped the kids off."

"He wouldn't tell you," he said.

He was right. Her father never showed weakness to anyone. He was always a pillar of strength. When her mother died, no one saw him shed a tear. He grieved in private. People, even his children, only ever saw what John Eames wanted them to see. Bobby was much like him in that regard. The world saw only what Bobby Goren wanted it to see, with just one exception: Mike Logan. Mike alone was allowed into Bobby's private world without censorship, and therein lay one of the fundamental problems of his relationship with his wife: he never let her in that far. He was afraid to, afraid that she would be scared off by what she found. She struggled to accept the fact that he would only let her in so far. It was something he would likely never get past, and she would have to come to terms with it. Eventually, she would accept it as part of being with him, but it was going to take time. She would not argue about it now.

"What did you do after you left the hospital?

He shrugged. "I ended up in Canarsie. I always seem to go back there when I'm most troubled, out onto the pier, by the water, so I can think."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's always been a place where I could go to find myself when I was feeling lost. At night, I could be alone there and think, sort through things. The water...calms me. It clears my head."

"Even after you try to drink the bar dry?"

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Mike found you back out at the pier Sunday night, and you were in pretty bad shape. It's taken you two days to come out of this one."

"That wasn't because I was drinking. I didn't really drink as much as I have in the past. I spent more time thinking than I spent at any bar. I had a couple of shots and a few beers. Then I went to the pier and had another seven or eight beers over several hours, but...that really wasn't all that much for me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"That's what I remember."

"Mike said you had more than just alcohol in you. Was he right?"

He paused, giving her a hard look. "He knows me well enough to know."

She took that as a 'yes.' "What else did you take?"

He shrugged. "Something that should have deadened the pain, but didn't."

"Cocaine? Heroin?"

He made a noise of contempt. "Of course not. I've never taken heroin and coke is a stimulant. I have enough stimulation. Sometimes I need to...slow things down. I just...I had a couple of joints and a few of the pills I already have."

She stared at him for a moment. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Why would I do that? I...I was overwhelmed, with Denise so sick and your dad's heart attack and you being so angry at me again..."

"Wait a minute...Bobby, I wasn't angry until you didn't come home."

He looked confused. "But...after we went upstairs with your dad...you...you were angry. I wanted to...to hold you, but once we left the waiting room, you wouldn't let me near you. You didn't want me around, so I had to leave." He studied her face. "You wouldn't show any weakness in front of your father. I represent weakness, so you shut me out entirely."

She watched him walk to the window and look out over the backyard, his back to her, and she let him go for the moment. Her quick temper and his sensitivity were two of their biggest problems. Bobby was extremely sensitive to her moods and easily hurt by her sharp tongue. Once hurt, he shut down and she had to work to draw him back out. Lately, though, he had been allowing his temper to seep through. Their fights became more intense, but it was easier to work through their problems when he participated in the effort. His tendency was simply to give in to her and let her have her way, and, while she naturally preferred that, it did nothing to help them resolve their issues. But his manner when he gave in to her was beginning to change. She saw more irritation in him, less blind compliance. She sensed unrest in him as well, and she realized that it was time for her to give in to him once in a while, even though she was reluctant to relinquish having the upper hand in their relationship.

And that brought her musing around to Denise. She just wasn't sure what to do about her. Maggie had been right: heaven was waiting for her, and Bobby could no longer visit her in heaven. If she forbade him to see her, that would be a mistake she would never be able to correct...and it would be something for which he would never forgive her. Would he honor such a request? She believed he would. Would he resent it? Absolutely. She could not identify exactly what made her uncomfortable. Was it really the lifelong friendship he'd shared with her, or was it the nature of that friendship? Three years of celibacy from her was nothing when compared with more than two decades of love, however else he chose to define it. If she wanted to be honest with herself, she could admit that she was jealous of Denise. She'd had all those years with Bobby, and it wasn't a falling out that was going to end it. He rarely, if ever, had any contact with any of his old girlfriends. His breaks with them had been complete. His relationship with Denise, however, had never been broken. It had evolved. But how could she discuss it with him? She saw how well that worked; it always followed the same pattern. He would swear to her that he wasn't sleeping with Denise a second before he turned defensive and shut down. He didn't seem to get that sex was not the issue. It was like butting heads with a rhino. Whatever she decided, though, it would have to be soon. Denise would be gone before any of them knew it.

"Bobby?"

Her tone was gentle, and he responded to it. "What?" he answered, but he didn't turn from the window.

"How did it happen?"

That question snagged his interest and he turned toward her. "How did what happen?"

"How the hell did you fall in love with me?"

"I'm really not sure," he said softly. "It's like...one day, we were just partners, and I never thought of you as anything more. I never expected you to be anything more. And then...then you got engaged, and I suddenly realized..." A look of shame crossed his face. "I realized that what I felt for you was more than the partnership. But...it was too late. You got married, and it seemed like...suddenly, everything changed. It was torture, and I can't explain why I never realized it before then. Maybe it was fear that masked the love...because I never imagined you could love me the same way. Looking back, I've tried to find any signs at all that I felt more for you than I thought, but...I can't find any. It hit me like a sledgehammer, and it left me breathless and floundering...for a very long time. I don't know when I fell for you, but I did, fast and hard."

"Are you sorry you did?"

"In a lot of ways, my life would have been simpler if I hadn't, but no, I'm not sorry. You are the best thing to ever happen to my life."

"So why are you trying to drive me away?"

"I'm not. I'm...I'm trying to find my own way...and not doing a very good job of it."

"All you have to do is ask..."

He shook his head. "It's not that easy. This is something I have to do on my own."

"And if you can't?"

"That's not an option. I have to do it."

She didn't doubt his sincerity, but she questioned the truth in his words. He simply did not seem to be happy of late. Was his life still so tied up in his old lover that he could not find true happiness in her absence? Alex was not sure his love for her was strong enough to carry him through his loss on its own. He was trying to prepare, but could any person truly prepare for the untimely loss of a loved one? Bobby, in particular, did not handle loss well at all, and Alex had no idea how to help him, if she even could. Her father would not live forever, she admitted with reluctance, but Denise should still have at least another thirty years before her.

She also doubted his ability to be that much in touch with the part of himself he kept so deeply buried, so protected. She wanted to be with him, to help him as much as he would let her, but she had concerns beyond their relationship that needed to be considered. She had the children to keep in mind, and they needed her, especially if their father couldn't be available to them. She had to shield them from his demons. "Okay, then," she said as she moved toward the door. "Call me when you get yourself figured out."

"You're not coming home?"

She hesitated, hating herself for the answer she had to give him. "No. Not yet."

"But... Alex..."

She could see the panic building in him, and that made it so much more difficult to stand firm on her decision. "Bobby, something has to change. We can't go on like this. Every time life gets out of hand for you, you withdraw into yourself and shut down. I know I have a quick temper, but you know that as well. We need to talk things through before misunderstandings happen." She paused, watching his face. He averted his eyes, looking at the floor, and she knew he was feeling chastised, but she did not reach out to him. "Your chosen coping mechanisms are not healthy. I realize that it's in your nature to fall back on what has worked for you in the past, but now that's just causing more problems. It isn't healthy for you and it upsets the rest of the family. Maybe you should think about seeing someone who can give you better options."

She watched him bristle at the suggestion, but he didn't verbally object. Bracing herself, she went on. "I talked to Ross this afternoon. There are no new cases pending at the moment, so he's given you and Mike the rest of the week off, so that you can work through what you're feeling and get your act together. I'm going to let Maggie stay with you, but I am going to stay at Dad's with the rest of the kids. They're talking about sending him home this weekend, so I'll see what happens then, but I need a couple of things to happen before I come home with Harry and the little ones."

His expression had become unreadable. "Like what?" he asked cautiously.

Bracing herself for his reaction, she said, "First, I need you to stop drinking. When you go out with Mike or we go to dinner, that's one thing. But when you drink to cope with your emotions, that's something else entirely. And the drugs...that has to stop, too."

Finally, he reacted. Raising his hand, he shook his head. "Hold on. The pot, that was a one time thing. It's been a couple of years since I've done that, but the pain medicine...I still need that sometimes."

"Your knee?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then you need to go back to the doctor."

"Alex..."

"I'm not kidding, Bobby. You have to take better care of yourself. I do not want to bury another husband before his time."

She watched him stare at the floor, but he didn't say anything. She wanted some kind of reaction from him, even if it was just an acknowledgment that he agreed with her. She was doing this for his well-being after all.

Without saying anything more, he turned away from her toward the window. He didn't know what to do. She was supposed to make him happy, but he was as unhappy as he'd ever been. He was angry, restless, resentful...He wasn't sure exactly what marriage was supposed to be, but he was fairly certain this wasn't it. Maybe because she had spent so much of her past giving in to men, she decided it was time for one to give in to her. He was certainly the right man to choose, because he would give her the world and he asked for very little in return. But when she refused him the little he did ask for, he didn't feel that was fair.

He pressed his head against the wall beside the window. He'd been so sure she was the right one for him. Had he been so in love with her that he turned a blind eye to everything that was wrong? He'd done nothing but give her what she asked for. She had the children she'd always wanted so badly, a nice home, a job she loved with a partner she could work with...but it still wasn't enough. She had to control him—what he did, where he went, who he saw. He felt claustrophobic, like he had when he was little and his mother locked him in a closet. Was it worth it?

He closed his eyes. He was cursed. His life was no longer his own. It belonged to her for as long as she would have him. Maybe John had been right, years ago, when he told him that maybe he loved Alex too much. Maybe he did. But he wasn't sure he was prepared to lose her.

He heard her move, and he chased away his anger and resentment for the moment. "Alex?"

"What?" she forced herself to say as she stopped by the door.

"Tell me...tell me it's not over."

He was desperate for a reassurance she could not give him. She shook her head. "I can't."

She walked past Mike, stopping only to say, "I'll drop Maggie off on my way to work in the morning."

Then, she was gone.