Thanks: To Geena, for putting up with my totally bizarre editing style.

A/N: Well, I keep hearing that a Bobby POV companion to Coffee is needed. Let's see what we get here.

The worst solitude is to be destitute of sincere friendship – Sir Francis Bacon
The timing of the gallery robbery could have been better. They were about to start a long weekend; taking some much needed time away from work and, sadly, each other. He understood her need to sometimes step back, get her head straight. He knew that keeping up with him could drain a person of their sanity, but he always felt so empty when he didn't see her for more than a couple of days.

Lately, he had really been pushing his luck where she was concerned. He had been demanding long days, trying to get their cases cleared. And when he didn't sleep, he became a bit manic. He knew that she could only handle so much of his inability to stand still or form a complete sentence before she refused to talk to him.

That point that come earlier then usual today. She had caught him watching her when he was supposed to be doing his share of the paperwork this morning. Instead of the sharp reprimand he was expecting, she simply gathered up her batch of case reports and left the bullpen without a word. Stunned, he remained at his desk for several minutes before it even occurred to him to follow her.

Exiting the bullpen, concern and apprehension filling him, he began checking doors in an attempt to find her. Finally, as panic was beginning to set in, he located her in Interview Room 6, as far away from him as she could get and remain on the same floor. Upon opening the door, he was greeted not with the icy look he expected, but with nothing. She ignored him, continuing to work on her paperwork. Feeling hurt, he was blocking the doorway; trying to find the words to apologize to her, when Deakins found them and ruined the weekend completely.

Now, after yet another fruitless interview, the fourth, he was ready to give up for the day. She had been increasingly distant after each futile conversation and now he feared that she wouldn't talk to him for the rest of the night.

Climbing into the passenger's seat of the SUV, he wished that they were not out here, dealing with ill-disposed citizens. He longed for a quiet bar, a cold beer, and her across the table from him, smiling.

Lost in his thoughts, he reached for his tea, resting in the cup holder to his left. Overestimating his reach, he ended up grabbing her hand instead of his cup. In the instant after contact, he felt her tense, pulling her hand back. The cup tilted, spilling cold coffee onto the console.

He had resolved to release her hand, until he heard her curse and saw her searching for something in the map pocket. As she turned back towards him, he caught a glimpse of what was in her hand, relieved to see that it was not a weapon.

Sheepishly, he met her eyes and watched in amazement as the tension drained from her. As he sat there, feeling and looking foolish, her face filled with light as she smiled for the first time in days.

Seeing his opportunity to try to make up for his behavior that morning, he gently rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand in slow circles. He felt her relax immediately and smiled. Struggling against the urge to pull her towards him and wrap his arms around her small shoulders, he released her hand and took the tissues.

He made short work of the spilled coffee and sat back in his seat, turned towards her, waiting. She smiled at him before putting the truck into drive. He settled back in his seat for a few minutes of peace before the next interview. As he closed his eyes to gather his thoughts, the silence was broken by her voice.

"You never cease to amaze me, Bobby."