Episode tag to 2.9 "The Gambler," in which the severity of Bobby's addiction becomes clear to him.

AN: Another Bobby/Tara one! I'll be honest, this is one of my favorites. Please read with care, though, knowing that it does deal with addiction (given that it's a tag to "The Gambler," not to mention the title, that shouldn't be surprising), and take note of the second AN at the end.

~0~

It should have been obvious to him.

It should have been obvious when Jack had warned him against it and he insisted on doing it anyway.

It should have been obvious when he lied to his girlfriend about why he couldn't see her that evening.

It should have been obvious when he kept finding more and more ways to justify it.

There was no doubt about it. FBI Special Agent Bobby Manning was addicted.

~0~

When he'd first quietly floated the idea that maybe he should let Tara know about his gambling problem, Jack had tried to talk him out of it. "The best way to keep a secret," he'd reminded him, "is to not tell people about it. You're getting help. You are attending your meetings, right?"

"Yes, and my sponsor's been great." Clapping Jack on the back, he added, "Not to mention how great my one buddy who knows about it and hasn't kicked me to the curb has been."

Jack offered a crooked smile at that but said, "Crash, you know I'm a big fan of our team, and it's not that I don't trust any of them, but the more people who know something, the more it has a way of . . . slipping out."

"Right," Bobby had argued, "but Tara can do all that stuff with those magic fingers of hers. What if she stumbled on it anyway? Wouldn't it be better to have her already know and maybe be able to help out if something comes up, than to have her be surprised by something and, in her surprise, accidentally reveal it to the wrong people . . . right?"

Jack sighed. "Why do I have a feeling that no matter what I say, you're going to tell her anyway?"

Bobby clapped him on the back once more and said, "Because you're a smart man, Sparky."

~0~

He had convinced Tara that he had something top-secret to discuss with her, and invited her over for pizza at his place. When he'd told her, she hadn't actually been surprised. Apparently, she's already stumbled on it, very early on in her days with the Bureau when she was discreetly checking out all her teammates. (For practice, she said. Because she was nosy, Bobby had teased back. She hadn't denied it.)

Since she already knew, she had been worried about him on the recent Johnny Moreno case, but she hadn't wanted to let him know she was worried. Still, she'd been keeping tabs surreptitiously.

He asked how much she knew from those tabs she was keeping.

She revealed that she knew enough to know that Jack had been right to be so worried when Bobby was a no-show for a bit there. She also knew that Bobby had made up for it, that Jack had lent him some money—Bobby didn't even bother asking how she knew it was Jack, specifically, he just accepted that there would always be things this wizard of a woman would know that the rest of the world would remain in the dark about—and that Bobby was attending GA meetings.

"Isn't the operative word in that 'anonymous'? How'd you know I was attending meetings?"

She had shrugged. "Well, I admit, that one was somewhat deductive reasoning. I knew your gambling had abruptly stopped again. I knew you weren't seeing a counselor, and I'm sorry, Jack's great, but I didn't think he could be single-handedly eliminating all addiction from you. Unless Darcy somehow had a hand in—"

"Darcy doesn't know," he'd said quickly, then immediately regretted it. Why had he blurted it out so fast?

Tara didn't look surprised though. She only nodded, pursing her lips. "I'd wondered . . . ." She paused in thought for a second, then asked, "Bobby . . . why did you tell me?"

"Well, I figured with your magic fingers you might find something and, uh, in your surprise, might accidentally—"

"Do you really think I'd do that?" she interrupted, sounding slightly hurt. "Even if I hadn't already known, I'm trained in undercover work. I know how to respond to things without seeming suspicious. Did you really think I would reveal it?"

He hung his head. "No, not really. You're right, I do know you better than that. It just seemed like a good excuse because—"

"Because what?"

He hesitated. "I'm not sure, honestly. I guess, Jack's my best guy friend and he's been there for me through it since college, but you're my best girl friend—I mean, you know, not girlfriend, but—"

"Female friend," she supplied, and if he didn't know better he could swear he saw her blinking back a look of disappointment at his clarification.

"Well . . . yeah. And I just . . . in meetings they talk about needing a healthy support around you, and I just . . . wanted to know that someone else had my back on it. Plus, you're the smartest person I've ever known, so if I'm ever tempted to try to gamble and hide it, I know you'll track it down in a second."

"That's right, I will," she replied, bumping her shoulder against his. "And then I'll track you down and beat your butt!"

He shied back in some bizarre combination of mock fear and genuine desire not to evoke her wrath. "No worries. Promise."

She took a deep breath, then asked, "So . . . other than that, how can I help?"

He tried to focus on finding an answer to that. He tried to focus on not pondering too hard why he'd wanted to tell Tara so much and have her in his corner, when he didn't want to tell his own girlfriend.

~0~

It was the night that he was supposed to go out with Darcy, but saw a flier for a Casino Royale fundraiser event and was genuinely tempted to attend, that he really knew he was in trouble. It was a fundraiser. For the good of the children's hospital it was supporting, he could . . . .

No. No, no, no.

He called Darcy to cancel their date, citing work responsibilities. She understood, of course. She always understood.

Then he showed up on Tara's doorstep.

"Bobby!" she'd exclaimed when she saw him. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded, then shook his head, then asked, "Um, are you busy?"

She shook her head, stepping inside to let him in. He shifted nervously before blurting out, "Um, I saw a flier for a . . . a gambling thing, a fundraiser, um, but the winners could still win money too, you know, and . . . ."

She nodded her understanding instantly. "Okay, no problem, uh, come sit down, You want a drink or anything? I don't have much but—"

"Oh, um, it's fine, uh, just water is probably good right now anyway."

When she returned with the water, they sat at opposite ends of the sofa, and she asked casually, "So, did you call your sponsor?"

He slapped his head. That should have been his first call. He immediately grabbed his cell out and started dialing. She whispered, "I'll give you some privacy," and started to stand, but he reached for her arm, looked up to her almost in a panic whispering, "Stay?" Surprised, and more concerned than ever, she sat back down.

His conversation with his sponsor didn't last long, especially once he'd confirmed that he had a friend who was willing to stay with him as long as he needed that evening—he'd looked to Tara for confirmation of the "as long as he needed" part and she nodded—and then he hung up. "Well . . . guess it's us, then."

Tara nodded, looking pensive, then asked, "Um . . . why—I don't mind, I'm just curious—why did you come here instead of going to Jack? O-or was Jack not available or something? I guess I shouldn't assume you didn't—"

"I don't really know," he admitted, cutting her building ramble off with a shrug and an honest confession. "I just . . . this felt like where I needed to be." The moment started to feel a little too heavy, so he added, "And anyway, you have better video games than Sparky." He did not add that he could have just kept his date with Darcy and then he would have been busy and not attending the Casino Royale thing anyway. That option had felt insufficient to him. He needed to be with someone who knew . . . and even though he was sure Darcy wouldn't judge him for his past, and even though she fully went to prison for him to protect him as her anonymous source that one time, he still didn't want to tell her about the gambling. It felt . . . too private to tell her. And that was something he didn't want to examine too deeply.

So instead he and Tara ordered dinner to be delivered, and spent the evening playing video games, and then, when he asked her if she minded if he camped out on her couch, she'd gotten a sleeping bag out to stay on the floor so he wouldn't be alone. When he'd objected that she had a perfectly good bed in the other room, she insisted that if he wouldn't let her sleep on the floor, they would both go to her room, her under the covers and him in the sleeping bag.

So that's what they did.

The next morning, when he lightly kissed the forehead of her sleeping form and whispered his thanks before slipping out to go home and get ready for work, the phrase walk of shame kept coming back to mind, and all he could think was . . . even if they had done what people would assume they had done if they knew he'd spent the night at her house, he wouldn't be ashamed.

And that was the moment he really understood that he was in big trouble.

~0~

It was over a week later, a week of tossing it over and over in his mind, talking about it in his GA meeting (but not with anyone outside that venue, not even Jack) and wrestling with his own heart, that he finally accepted that he needed to break things off with Darcy. He was as gentle as he could be about it, and if he was being honest . . . while she was sad, and while he would never want to hurt her on a personal level, she wasn't quite as hurt by the breakup as his ego would have liked to assume she would be.

That was hours ago. Now it was the moment of truth. He stood on Tara's doorstep once again.

He hesitated only briefly, started to turn to walk away, then worked up his courage and turned back to knock, only for the door to swing open before he touched it.

"Bobby? Are you okay? Why are you just dancing around out there?"

"S-sorry, lu—uh, shiela, I, uh–um, can we talk?"

"Of course," she said, welcoming him in.

They took their places on the couch again, but this time he was leaning forward on his knees, reminding himself how to breathe as he figured out how to start.

"Okay, I want to do this right," he said. "I . . . I want to do this the way they've taught us so . . . hi, I'm Bobby Manning, and I'm an addict."

Tara reached over and placed a hand on his, a comforting gesture that nevertheless sent tingles up his arm. "Bobby, did . . . did something happen? Did you slip?"

"No, just . . . just listen please."

She nodded and then faithfully waited for him to bring himself to speak again.

"I'm Bobby Manning, and I am an addict. I suspected it some time ago but kept telling myself . . . that it was just friendly and fun, no big deal. When I knew it was more serious, I told myself it was out of necessity. When I lied to my girlfriend about why I had to cancel a date, I told myself it was because it would have been too easy to slip away from her during the date anyway. But tonight . . . tonight I broke up with that girlfriend—"

Tara drew in a sharp breath and squeezed Bobby's hand, but true to his request, said nothing.

"I broke up with her because, uh, because the relationship—well, it just wasn't fair to either of us anymore. Because I am addicted . . . to Tara Williams."

This time, rather than a sharp intake of air, the air seemed knocked from Tara entirely. She only stared. Gaped slightly. And stared some more.

"Tara?" he said, nervously, tentatively. "Are—are you—you can speak now . . . if you have something to say?"

She didn't.

But when she launched herself at him, arms around his neck, lips sealing to his as she knocked him backward against the armrest, he got the message anyway.

~0~

AN: In no way do I intend this to make light of genuine addiction. Having lost an uncle due to his addictions, and having certain things that I avoid because I know my own penchant toward hyperfixation-bordering-on-addiction and don't want to risk crossing that threshold, I do not find true addiction funny at all, and I very much appreciate the efforts that this show took in showing it even in someone who always seems so strong, capable, and easy-going. I especially love that this is the only episode in which the case is not fully and satisfactorily resolved because Bobby needs to get out.

All that said, I do think that Bobby, with his personality and his personal sense of humor, would absolutely take something as serious as addiction and use it to reveal his interest in a woman. (And apparently I'm also pretty well convinced that that's what would make Tara actually stop talking because that's two stories in a row I ended that way.)

If you have any personal addiction struggles, I urge you to seek help. There is no greater strength than that required to reach out. If you need help finding where to seek help near you, please PM me and I would be happy to do all I can to help you find your local resources.