A/N: First of all, let me say that it took a lot to bring Bobby and Alex to the dark place they are now, and it will take time and effort to move them away from it. Neither of them is great with emotion, so they'll struggle. I guess the deciding factor is going to be whether or not they are willing to put forth the effort to try. Saving the marriage will be key to saving themselves.

I appreciate all the emotional feedback I have gotten. It tells me I'm doing something right in constructing a story that stirs such passion from my readers. Now I owe it to each of you to find the right path for these two very difficult lovers back to one another. Continue with your feedback, please. Sometimes, the right path lies within something I am told by a reader who is as vested in these characters as I.

Finally, I would have updated sooner, but I had a mishap at the beginning of last week involving my laptop and about two ounces of milk. The funeral was midweek. Fortunately, I had saved most of my writing onto a flashdrive that was last updated in June, so I didn't lose much. I had also uploaded a couple of chapters to FFN for final editing, but didn't have a chance to get to them until now. Forty hours of overtime in two weeks didn't help matters much (it's our busiest season at the Zoo). I haven't yet replaced my dead laptop, so I'm having to borrow the laptop I gave to Katie until I can get another one. So apologies for my delays!

Finally, thank you all for sticking with me as I put our beloved couple through the wringer once again...and thank you for trusting me to fix them, eventually.

Shortly after the lunch hour, Albright left Alex with her family and returned to the squad room to interview a witness they had scheduled that afternoon. Once the doctors confirmed that John had taken a turn for the worse and his heart was failing, Alex called her siblings, letting them know that their father's condition was rapidly worsening. Bobby called Mike and asked him to go to Reggie's, to stay with the little ones so his sister-in-law could come up to the hospital to say good-bye to her father. Kevin also made it there in time to say good-bye.

The summer sun was sinking toward the western horizon when the angels took John to Heaven. Maggie remained cuddled with him, and she wept softly into his chest when he went with the angels. Alex cried in Bobby's arms while he comforted her. Never fully in touch with his emotions, he found a way to dissociate himself from them entirely so that he could be strong for her. He had no other choice.

It was very late when they arrived home with Maggie, who fell asleep in the car on the way home. Bobby lifted her gently from the car without waking her, something he had done successfully many times over the years. He carried her up the stairs and settled her into her bed, slipping off her shoes and placing a soft, loving kiss on her curly little head. He stopped in the doorway to look back in on her. He took a silent accounting of the people in his life who had secured a place in his wounded heart, and he finally admitted that, of them all, none were more special to him than the little girl who slept in that bed. As much as he loved his wife, his children, his closest friends...none of them were Maggie. "I love you," he whispered, and he never meant those words more.

He pulled the door closed and started down the hallway toward the stairs, his fatigued mind slowly counting off the many ways he had failed her, how often he had failed them. Recent events had left him in a very dark place, and he wasn't sure how to find his way out. His father-in-law's voice filled his mind. When you lose your way, Maggie will be your beacon...

No, John...That's too much to put on a little girl.

It's not an expectation. It's simply who she is. It's a natural consequence of the loving heart you gave her.

He plodded heavily down the stairs and dropped into the recliner. He propped his head on his hand and realized for the first time all night just how empty he felt inside, how very alone he was. He just did not know how to process the loss of his father-in-law. It was beyond him at the moment.

Alex watched him from where she was seated on the couch. She noticed how heavy his movements were, and she wondered what he was feeling. That was one skill she had never developed—she could not read her husband, not the way he could read her...and the rest of humanity. She felt at a distinct disadvantage, and that irritated her. But she couldn't deal with him now. She had her own grief to manage, and that was about all she could handle. Bobby was on his own.

Mike arrived home with the other children about an hour later, carrying Tommy up to bed while Bobby settled Molly in her crib and Alex tucked Harry in. He was the only one of the children who was not asleep. He wasn't comfortable enough around Mike—or Bobby—to lower his guard enough to sleep under unusual circumstances.

As Alex tucked the blankets around Harry, he watched her face. "Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Did Grampa go to heaven tonight?"

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "He did."

"Oh. Is it okay to be sad?"

"Yes, Harry. It's perfectly okay to be sad."

He took the stuffed bear she held out to him and hugged it. "Maggie's daddy said we's gonna have a party and cake for my birthday on Sattaday."

"That's right."

"And Maggie telled me that her daddy's birthday is right after mine."

She nodded. "It is."

He was quiet for a minute, then he said, "Is it okay...if we have my party on Daddy's birthday?"

Alex noticed his slip in not calling Bobby 'Maggie's daddy,' and she felt tears well in her eyes again. It was a good sign that he said 'Daddy.' "Do you really want that, Harry?"

He thought for a moment before he nodded firmly. "Yes. Do you think it will be okay with him?"

"I think he would really like that."

A smile touched the little boy's face, and he felt good about his decision. "I like it, too," he answered with a yawn. "Maybe then, we won't be so sad no more."

"Maybe," she agreed. Leaning over, she kissed him. "Good night, honey."

"G'night, Mommy."

Bobby was just coming out of their room when Alex pulled Harry's door closed. She stepped away from the door and faced him, crossing her arms over her chest. He studied her posture, closed off, defensive, and asked, "Do you want me to stay?"

She was not going to let him put it all off on her. "Do you want to stay?"

He paused before answering, "Yes, I do."

"Okay then. Stay."

She turned and went down the stairs, knowing he would follow. She went directly to the kitchen while he stopped by the couch. Mike watched from the recliner, not quite sure what to read into their behavior. "How's it going?" he asked.

Bobby shrugged. "I, uhm, I'm not sure. She hasn't said much of anything."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know what to do. I don't have anywhere to go."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is where you want to be." He paused, then said, "You give in too much, and it doesn't get you anywhere. Stand your ground for a change. Do what you want to do."

"That always turns out so well," Bobby answered sarcastically.

"Don't let her ride herd on you. This is your marriage, too, you know. Its survival or its destruction is on you as much as her."

Bobby looked past him as Alex returned from the kitchen with a glass. Bourbon...her go-to drink when she was hurting. He watched her for a minute, but he said nothing. Silently, he turned and left the room.

She watched him leave as she took a drink, wondering if he would choose the stairs or the front door. She was surprised that he chose the stairs.

Once he was gone, Mike looked up at her from the recliner. "That was cold."

"Did I ask you?"

"Don't care. Way to kick a man when he's down."

She stood there and finished her drink as his accusation hung between them. Then she crossed the room, handing the empty glass to him as she passed him and kept going. "Shut up, Logan," she snapped.

"I'm just sayin'..." he said to her retreating back.

Ignoring him, she went up the stairs.

The bedroom was dark, but she could see his silhouette by the window. Closing the door behind her, she challenged, "So you're choosing to stay?"

"This is my home," he answered. "It's where I belong, if I belong anywhere. I...I don't want to be anywhere else."

He spoke so softly, he almost sounded sad, and she wondered about his state of mind. She hadn't seen much grief from him. She knew that he had to be hurting. Somewhere inside, he was grieving as deeply as she was, but he wasn't showing any sign of that grief, and she wondered why. "Well...that's a step in the right direction," she commented, trying to sound casual.

"More like a shove from your father," he replied.

"He always loved you like a son."

He didn't reply to that, and she wasn't sure how to proceed. It troubled her when she was uncertain about how to handle him. He could be so difficult, and she wondered if it was because he chose to be, or because he didn't know how to be any other way. She decided to steer the conversation away from her father. The pain of loss was too raw, at least for her. He was playing his emotions very close to the vest and had revealed nothing—no grief, no anger, no sorrow. How deeply had he buried his pain that night? She wondered if she could draw him out. It wasn't healthy to keep everything bottled inside...but since when did he ever do anything that was healthy? "Harry had a request when I put him to bed."

"What was that?"

She still could not interpret his tone. "He wants to postpone his birthday party."

"If that's what he wants, we can postpone it."

"He wants to have it on your birthday."

He looked at her over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. "What?"

She heard the surprise in his voice. Well, it was a place to start. At least it was an emotion, and she grasped at it. "That's what he asked. He wanted to know if it would be okay with you. I told him you would really like that."

He thought about it for a moment as he turned back to the window. "I...uhm, of course I would."

"And he called you Daddy."

"He...did what?"

"He wasn't thinking about it. He called you Daddy."

Bobby didn't reply to that, but he became very still. She watched him, unsettled because she was right back where she started—she could not read him at all. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," he assured her.

"I told you he was making progress."

"And I'll undo it all if I leave, right?"

She considered his words, spoken in a tone she could not read, and thought about the best response. Finally, she swallowed the lump that had reformed in her throat and said, "You'll break my heart if you leave."

She watched his shoulders shift as his back straightened in response to her words. All night long, Bobby had been quietly stoic, not allowing himself to grieve for the one man who had been like a father to him, not out of duty, but out of love. He remained quiet and intense as he stood by the window, giving her no reply. Maybe he simply needed time to himself. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll be right back."

His only reaction was a brief nod. She gathered her clothes, looked at him once more, and went into the bathroom.

As she showered, Alex felt the heavy weight of loneliness descend upon her. Somehow, the world seemed an emptier place. She felt deep grief for the loss of the father she'd adored. It would take time for her to adjust to living in a world without him in it. Things had changed between her and Bobby as well, and she wasn't sure how to repair the damage that had been done. It was a good sign that he was still there, that he had not gone to seek...whatever it was he needed to bear his grief. Part of her was afraid to find out what he needed while another part of her just wanted him to need her. Maybe her sharp words had wounded him too often, driving him away until he couldn't find his way back. Once, he had seemed impervious, his armor somehow bulletproof to the barbs she shot his way. She wasn't sure exactly when his armor had failed him, but he was wounded and she wasn't sure she had the skill to heal him. She felt him slipping away from her, and she didn't know how to pull him back. She didn't know when he'd started slipping away.

When she reentered the bedroom, she was not surprised to find him by the window where she'd left him, still fully dressed. "Bobby? Aren't you coming to bed?"

"Not just yet," he answered.

"Why not?"

His tone didn't change. "I just...I don't have...the energy any more. I don't have what it takes..." he trailed off, afraid that if he went on, he would compromise the casing in which he'd bottled the emotions he couldn't handle.

"Do you have the energy to take off your clothes and lay down with me? Can you be here because I need you?"

Sometimes, her words were as sharp as a razor and they cut deep. Other times, her words could be downy soft, but they cut just as deeply. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

She listened for the emotion in his words, but she could not hear any. He had taken to heart her recent criticisms, though they had been spoken harshly in anger and she regretted them. His grief over John's death was compounded by the impending failure of his marriage to her, and he could not cope with either, much less both. She thought about their early morning talk, and she knew he was lost, unable to cope with his life at the moment—and she had asked him to abandon every method of coping he knew without leaving him any alternatives. If she let him go now, she was afraid she would lose him for good. She never meant to drive him away, and she acknowledged to herself that she'd handled him poorly, ignoring a decade of experience to react to him with anger. That was not the way to handle him. No one affected him the way she could, and it was wrong of her to use that to her advantage to hurt him because he'd made a mistake.

She hesitated, unsure about what to do. Finally, she crossed the room and rested her hand on the small of his back. "First of all," she said softly. "I am going to tell you that I am sorry. I was wrong. I lashed out at you when I shouldn't have and let my own insecurities dictate what I said."

She could feel the tension beneath her fingers when she touched him. But once she'd spoken, once he heard what she had to say, he relaxed. His shoulders sloped forward just a little. She went on. "The kids would miss you terribly, but I would miss you more."

He placed a hand on the window frame and gripped it until his knuckles turned white. She felt him tremble just seconds before he turned and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and held her in a crushing embrace, his body shaking with the effort to maintain his control. His struggle cut something loose inside her, and she squeezed him tightly, hugging him just as fiercely, and she wept silently against him.

Closing his eyes, he held onto her as though his life depended on her, and maybe it did. His relationship with his mother had been very complicated, and he'd gotten carried away by his grief when she died. His relationship with her father had been simple, built on respect and love, and he was fighting to keep it all together...for her. She had been close to her father, and she needed to have the freedom to grieve. He did not feel at liberty to grieve, not yet, and so he remained aloof, detached from all that he was, sacrificing his soul—for the moment—so he could be strong for her. He simply could not share her loss, not if he stood any chance at all of helping her to bear her pain. There would be time later for him to grieve; now was not that time.

As she held him, she felt much of her anger slip away, replaced by a grief that did not mourn solely for her father. She realized that she was standing at a crossroads, a place to which she had been a driving force in bringing them. She stood on the brink of losing him, much as she had lost Joe, and that was a loss she could not bear. "Please," she whispered, not caring if she sounded desperate or weak. "Please, don't go. It's not enough that I want you and it may not be enough that I love you, but dammit, Bobby, I need you, and that's all I have!"

He gently stroked her hair and kissed her head. "Go to bed, Alex."

"Bobby..."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised.

He released her from his embrace and stepped away. Pulling a pair of sweatpants from his dresser drawer, he went into the bathroom. She sat on the bed and waited for him. When he came out of the bathroom, he settled in beside her and let her cuddle against him. She kissed his cheek, lingering, which he allowed. So she snuggled closer. Again, he allowed it. "I love you," she whispered into his ear.

"I love you, too," he answered, but his tone and his affect were flat.

"Bobby..."

"Go to sleep, Alex. The next few days are going to be hard ones. You'll need your rest."

His tone was gentle, but firm. When she rubbed his chest, he softly sighed and relaxed a little, but he would not let her hand roam. She finally drifted to sleep with her head resting on his chest, lulled to sleep by the strong, steady beat of his heart. He held her through the night, but sleep avoided him for the second night in a row.