Title: Still - Part Two: A Worthwhile Tomorrow
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Disclaimer: These characters (except Rick and Mark) belong to DEK.
Eugene walks into the office just after eight on Monday morning, seemingly
the first of the crew to arrive. Soon, though, he discovers otherwise, as a
disturbing sound streams from the direction of Bobby's office. As he moves
closer, he recognizes the noise to be groaning. What he sees inside doesn't
surprise him in the least - Bobby's behavior had been out of control since
Lindsay's departure, and wasn't showing any signs of improvement. In
between hangovers, sleepless nights at the office, a short temper and three
straight 'guilty' verdicts, his friend was slowly falling into his own
Now, he is slumped over his desk - unshaven and dirty...his mouth hanging
slightly open. Circles have formed under his eyes, and the sour smell of
whiskey circles a body that would be thought dead, if not for the
pathetic droning escaping its alcohol glazed lips.
Before he is able to take action, a distressed huff ignites his attention,
startling him from one friend to another.
"Hey, Bec," he says quietly, offering a small smile.
"Hey," she moves forward, shifting her gaze to Bobby. "Same 'ole, same
"Yeah," he sighs.
"This has to stop, Eugene..." Bec begins, shaking her head.
"I know," he agrees with a nod. "I am so sick of this," he swears,
disgusted. "Enough is enough."
Angry and frustrated, Eugene stalks over to Bobby, grabbing him by the back
of his shirt. "Get up!"
"What the -" Bobby slurs, the action causing him to stumble back and fall
onto the floor.
"What the hell is the matter with you, man?"
"I could ask you the same question," he says, rubbing his temple as he
"She's not dead, Bobby!"
"No, she just left me," he sneers.
"Why don't you stop feeling sorry for yourself and take a long, hard look
at what you're becoming?"
"It's none of your business, Eugene."
"You know what," he chuckles, bitterly. "Nevermind." He starts for the
door, but stops. "Come to think of it, maybe you should feel sorry for
yourself ... No one else gives a damn."
The door slams, causing Bec to jump. Bobby looks after him.
"What's his problem?"
"He cares about you," Bec offers, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Funny, I could have sworn he just said he didn't give a damn about me."
"No, Bobby. What he meant was, he doesn't sympathize with you regarding
"How's that?" He demands.
"Well, we all had drinks before she left. We were ready to dig into her
about breaking your heart, when she informed us of exactly what went down
between the two of you."
"That's simple enough. She left me, just like I said."
"She took another job, Bobby ... In another state."
"What's the difference?!"
"The difference is, she got an amazing opportunity and wasn't willing to
give up on it. She tried to work everything out. You wouldn't have it. It
was you and her in Boston, or not at all."
"Explain to me how it could work, Rebecca. I'm in Boston. She's in New
York. What if we decided to get married? How the hell could that possibly
"Marriage probably isn't one of her top priorities right now, Bobby."
"Is it one of yours?" She asks, in an excited tone.
He doesn't say anything. Sitting back down in his chair, he pulls open the
top drawer of his desk and takes out a small velvet box. Opening it, he
sets it down and turns it so Bec can see. "A little, yeah," he whispers.
"Oh, Bobb-y..." she places a hand over her heart and walks behind him,
moving the same hand from her chest to his shoulder, her eyes enraptured by
the sparkling, marquee cut diamond on a band of white gold.
"I was going to ask her on her birthday..." he thinks a minute, then closes
his eyes "today..." he laughs "I had this whole elaborate plan...it was
going to be great."
"It can still happen, Bobby," she says, kneeling next to him. "Look at me."
When he does, she can see the tears in his eyes. "She loves you," she
whispers, serious. "She's young and full of life...she has dreams...think
back to when you and I started this place...Lindsay craves that, too...she
needs to find herself, Bobby. That job she had here...it wasn't at all what
she needed...maybe New York isn't either...but you have to let her
experience that. What you're doing now...it's hurting her...more than you
think she's hurting you, believe it or not. She needs your support now.
Jobs don't last forever...but love...true love...it does." She pauses. "You
love her...whatever happens...that's what will matter in the end. Trust me
when I tell you...you have something rare with Lindsay...not all of us get
that lucky. Take it...the good and the bad."
"I don't know, Bec..." he sighs. "I just don't know..."
Lindsay sits amongst the warm suits, her hands resting atop the smooth,
polished conference table as the discussion becomes mere jibber jabber to
her ears. Bobby was on her mind, as usual - she found it hard to think of
anything else these days. She must have picked up the phone a thousand
times to call him, but never got past the first few digits. The fear of
rejection kept her at a distance...they hadn't spoken since the night she
told him she'd taken the job...the job she believes she could love if she
could only find a way to mend the wounds gaping her heart.
Today is her birthday, and sitting here now...down and depressed...she
knows without a shadow of a doubt that this one will be, by far, the worst
of her life. These people had no idea and she didn't plan on telling them.
It felt just like all the other days anyway...
The sound of her name rattles Lindsay, bringing her back to reality.
Rick Spaulding's voice was of most annoyance to her...it always made her
think of Bobby, as he was the one who unknowingly informed him of her
plans...the look of betrayal on his face...the pain in his eyes...no, that
was one memory she'd like to forget all together.
"I'm sorry," she sighs, smiling nervously as the others look on. "You were
"I'd like you to co-chair the Roberts case with Mark."
"Oh," she sighs. "That would be great."
"I think so, too. Mark?"
He throws his hands up in the air, and grins. "Sounds good."
"Excellent. Anything else?" Spaulding looks around the 'table of silence'.
"Okay, folks. That's all, then. Let's get to work."
Everyone files out except Lindsay and Mark. He watches her as she quietly
gathers her things, paying no attention to him what-so-ever.
"Hmm?" She doesn't look up.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she lies, putting on her best fake smile as she looks up.
He nods, though unconvinced. "So, you ready to get started?"
"Well, I have some things I need to take care of first, actually. How about
"Sure. My office?"
She nods and starts for the door. He smiles, waving goodbye to the saddest
girl he'd ever seen.
Bobby sits at his desk, going over a file for a pending case. He hadn't
left his office all day, in attempt to dodge any further confrontations.
Rebecca's remarks hit him hard, and made him wonder if he was just being an
idiot. Lindsay is the woman he is supposed to spend eternity with...he
never doubted that. Life without her was miserable...meaningless. He missed
her smile...her laugh...the sight of her lying next to him in the
morning...the smell of her hair...kissing her...touching her...loving
her...he missed her. But his pride strives to rebuild the wall between
them...he was stubborn...and that one quality might just cost him a
When the door opens, he sighs, dropping his pen. Looking up, he sees
"Don't worry," she says, holding her hand up. "I'm not here to attack you,
He nods. "Good."
"I just thought you might like to have this..." she walks over to his desk
and pulls out a small piece of paper, then sets it down before him.
"What's this?" He asks as he picks it up, studying it.
"Lindsay's new cell phone number...I don't know if she'd like me giving it
to you, but," she shrugs her shoulders "I figure there's no harm in it."
She pauses. "You should call her, Bobby."
"Yeah?" He asks, truly sincere.
"Yeah," she insists.
"Maybe I will..." he whispers, thoughtfully.
Deep down, Bobby knows Ellenor is right - he needs to call Lindsay...if for
no other reason than to hear the sound of her voice.
That night, Lindsay and Mark are still working as the clock strikes nine.
Files, empty paper cups and balled up drafts surround them, as they rest on
the floor of his office. They were taking 'ten' - or breaking from the
stressful case for a few moments, relaxation screaming for admission to
their exhausted, over-worked beings.
Lindsay glances over at Mark, smiling to herself. He was very handsome -
tall, built...with chocolate brown eyes, dark hair and a great smile. She'd
never really noticed before. 'Gee," she thinks sarcastically to herself as
Bobby's picture flashes through her mind, "I wonder why..."
They'd known each other since her first day...in fact, he'd been one of the
first of the employees to befriend her. He was so nice to her, and she only
wishes she could say she'd returned the favor. Having been wrapped up in
her problems, it just didn't leave room for much else. Now, as he sits
across from her, he grins at her like she's the greatest thing in the
world. Taking the look in, she plants it into her 'evidence bag'...the one
that contained all the things that made her realize exactly how much he
liked her. She didn't have a heart to give him, though...hers rested in the
hands of the one and only man she'd ever love.
He leans forward and brushes her cheek. "Why are you so sad?" She opens her
mouth to speak, but he raises his fingers to her lips to stop her.
"Please...don't tell me that you're not...I know what I see..."
"It's not something I can talk about..." she whispers, looking away.
"Try...it's good to get things like this off your chest..."
She sighs. "It's just...there's someone back in Boston...someone I love..."
"Yeah," she nods. "Things...they're just not going very well right
now...and I'm not sure they'll ever be right again..."
"Does it have to do with you coming here?"
"Yes," she wipes a tear as it falls. "You see," she laughs. "this is why I
didn't want to talk about this..." she sniffles "I've been crying a lot
lately...I'm SO sick of crying..."
"Shh..." he pulls her into a hug. "It's okay...I'm here...right here..."
He holds her as she cries. But soon, a knock on the door startles them to
separation. A man holding a large plastic bag calls to them from the door.
"I have a delivery here for a Mr. Brien?"
"That's me," Mark says as he rises.
He pays the man and thanks him, then closes the door as he leaves.
"I ordered from Little Italy. The best italian food in the city," he
smirks, holding up the bag.
Lindsay grabs a tissue from his desk and wipes her eyes. "I'm not very
hungry," she says softly. "But thanks for the thought. That was sweet of
"You have to eat something. You said yourself, haven't eaten all day."
She swallows hard and closes her eyes as she takes in the smell coming
closer toward her along with Mark. Normally it would have made her yearn
for a taste, but today it only succeeded in making her stomach turn. "I
Now, one single smell takes over her senses...but her flushing cheeks and
rising temperature scew her mind as to what it is. He stands before her and
opens one of the boxes, teasing her as he does.
"You know you want some.." he laughs. "Come on, Lindsay...fresh, hearty
Garlic. That was it. And it was her last thought before slapping a hand
over her mouth and running into his private bathroom, slamming the door
Mark listens in horror as Lindsay coughs, losing the contents of her
stomach. His only distraction is the ringing of a phone - Lindsay's cell
phone. On the fourth ring, he answers it.
On the other end, Bobby remains silent...shocked and confused. No...he had
to be wrong. It couldn't be.
"Hello?!" The male voice now comes out as irritated.
"Is this 5-2-7-3-1-3-6?"
"Who are you looking for?"
"Lindsay Dole," he snaps.
"You got it right, but she can't come to the phone right now."
Bobby's face falls, and he shakily sets the phone back in its cradle,
missing the further rambling of the other man.
"Can I give her a message for you? ... Hello?"
Mark huffs as the line goes dead. He turns off the phone and walks over to
"You okay in there?"
Inside, Lindsay stands in front of the mirror, splashing water on her face.
"Yeah," she calls out, running her hands over her face. She rests them
against her cheeks as she gazes at her reflection. What she sees there is
disturbing: pale skin...puffy eyes...no sign of happiness. She was always
tired...always emotional...even when she wasn't thinking of Bobby. And this
wasn't the first time she'd gotten sick either...but she dismissed it
without another thought, taking note of the fact that there was a bug going
Putting everything together, her lips begin to quiver. Her head drops with
her hand as it touches her stomach. The naive part of her says 'no'...but
the wise part insists she'll be stopping at the pharmacy on her way home
to be continued....