Title: Progeny

Author: elfluvr

Summary: He remembered that he'd cried the night he decided never to have children of his own.

Disclaimer: Thanks Dick Wolf, René Balcer, Vincent D'Onofrio and Kathryn Erbe. I've hurt no one, made no money, and put everyone back where I found them.

Archive: Fanfiction - anywhere else, just ask

Feedback: Please! It's always welcome


A/N – I'm going to start this off with a few warnings. (1) This story is so far off of what Dick Wolf, Vincent D'Onofrio and Kathryn Erbe would consider appropriate for the series that it's practically A/U. (2) If you're not a shipper, you may want to reconsider reading any further. (3) The rating will change to M at the third and fourth (final) chapters for explicit sex. If that's not your thing, you probably don't want to go any further. If it is your thing, you may want to mark this story with an Alert or check back for All Ratings since ff.n will hide the story once the rating changes.

Anyone who has seen the movie "Claire Dolan" will recognize the opening dialog. You have that movie to thank (or blame) for inspiring this story. (Awesome movie for VDO fans, by the way.)


Chapter 1 of 4 - Progeny

"I want to have a child." Alex stated simply.

Bobby looked into her eyes, searching for uncertainty … searching for conviction. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," her response was immediate, her voice unwavering.

He thought about her request and how much she must want this to have found the strength to ask him. "I understand," he murmured.

"Do you?"

"Yes," he quickly answered. He did understand. "You … you want to have my child."


They were at her apartment. Eames had specifically invited him over that afternoon, which in itself was odd. Not that he didn't spend time with her at her place, or she at his, but it was usually as a result of work. Either they worked late one evening and felt like relaxing with a drink afterwards, or files were taken home and spread over a coffee table while they ate Chinese take-out and drank coffee until the early morning hours.

Bobby ran his hand through his hair and then, closing his eyes, he grasped the back of his neck as he tried to figure out how the hell to respond to her. It occurred to him that he wasn't as shocked as he should be, perhaps because in the most secret corners of his mind, he'd toyed with the idea of children and 'happily ever after' with her. But this was reality not fantasy, and there were more things to consider than simply the logistics of the whole thing.

He opened his eyes and cocked his head to look at her, still rubbing the back of his neck. "Eames, you know about my mom. You know schizophrenia can be inherited."

"I know, Bobby … but there are always risks and there are never any guaran-…"

"No!" He took a step to turn toward her and swung his hand away from his neck. "This isn't an unknown factor. You know the risk. You can't make that choice!" Bobby was adamant about this. Of the many heartbreaks in his life, the one that haunted him most was a decision he'd made long ago, after he'd learned as much as he could about schizophrenia. He remembered that he'd cried the night he decided never to have children of his own. But he'd always held out hope that one day he would meet someone he loved enough to marry and they could adopt. Or, as he got older, he thought maybe he would meet a divorced or single woman who already had children.

"Bobby …" Alex started to argue with him, but stopped when he put his hands on his hips and stood his ground with determination.

"Alright … alright." she said quietly. "Let's talk about this … it's important." Alex walked over to her dining table and sat down. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and looked at him expectantly. Bobby shook his head, but went and sat down opposite her.

"You were, what … seven? … when your mom's disease first manifested itself?"

He nodded. She already knew that.

"That would have been … 1968." Again he nodded mutely.

"Bobby, you've said yourself they didn't know much about treating schizophrenia back then. You told me the medications that today work on younger victims don't have much affect on your mom because she went undiagnosed and improperly medicated for so long – her disease was so far progressed before she could get proper treatment." Eames was throwing his own words back at him. This is what comes of talking too much during those long, dull hours during stake outs.

"Think about it. Think about the changes and the advances that have been made in the areas of treatment and management of the disease in the last thirty-five years."

She reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his. "Now … think about how much farther they will have come in twenty or twenty-five years – the time when it would likely occur in …" Alex stumbled over her choice of words, then continued confidently "… in my child."

Alex paused, perhaps waiting for her words to sink in. "Bobby, it's not a certainty that a child you … father … will develop schizophrenia. But if that happened … it won't be like it was with your mother."

He looked to where her hand rested atop his and turned his over so they met palm to palm. Bobby ran his thumb back and forth along the outside of her hand while Alex curled and uncurled her fingers, stroking his palm.

"Please, Bobby," she whispered. "I want to have a child before it's too late for me. I can't think of anyone else I would want to …" her voice broke with emotion.

The part of him that could never deny her – the part of him that had always hoped – was gaining dominance over his reasonable side … his sane side. She'd obviously done her homework and given this a lot of thought. Her arguments made sense.

What if he said no? She might actually go to a sperm bank … or find someone else. The thought of someone else fathering her child shot a spark of anger into his spine. Alex was pushing the edge of a healthy age for a woman to have a child. She was definitely right in one thing – she didn't have much time. If he said no, how long until she considered an alternative?

His decision made, he brought his eyes up to meet hers shimmering with unshed tears. "So how, uh … how do you … want to do this?"

Alex's face lit up with her smile, and then she blushed as the implication of his words struck her. She looked to where her hand still rested in his and quietly said, "The old-fashioned way would be good."

Bobby blew out a breath. What the hell? Did he really just agree to this? He wrapped his fingers around her small hand then reached for her other across the table. Alex looked back up at him, her eyes still shimmering, but now she looked happy.

"How …" he hesitated then decided to just plunge in. "How would you like to go to dinner tonight?"

She looked surprised. "You mean, like a date?"

"Yeah … like a date."

He never would have thought she could manage to look shy. "I'd really like that," she smiled softly.

"Okay." Bobby gave her hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them and standing. "I'll pick you up at 7:00. And wear something, um … nice," he said as he headed toward the door. "I have a place in mind."

"I'll see you at 7:00."