A/N: I don't own them. Just taking them out for a stroll. Also, this story may eventually move to 'M.'
A/N 2: Spoilers for "Silencer" and some other season 6 happenings. This story assumes that Alex and Bobby had been involved but split somewhere around the time of "The War at Home." This will be my first multi chapter story. Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Staring at the ceiling from my couch with half a bottle of wine in me I felt sick to my stomach. But it wasn't the wine that had me feeling ill. It was what I had done. When I had made my way to my car the night before I truly hadn't expected Peter to follow me, let alone be parked next to me. Bobby had decided to walk to the Subway and, on impulse, I asked Peter if he wanted to get a bite to eat. A few glasses of wine later and we had moved on from the Lower East Side bistro and up to Peter's apartment.
After Joe died for the longest time I made a point of not bringing men home. Sure, I had sex. Brief relationships, one night stands. But I made a point of not allowing someone into my home. Into my most personal space. Maybe that's why things never worked out. Until Bobby. Since Bobby had already been in my apartment prior to the start of our "extracurricular activities" I figured it didn't matter. However, after I lost Bobby from my life in the personal sense it seemed only right that I get back to my old habits.
When I woke up in Peter's bed I knew immediately that I wouldn't have time to go home. Thus, being the quintessential gentleman, Peter walked me back to where I had left my car near the bistro. This, of course, led to our walking out of the elevator and onto the eleventh floor of One PP together. Immediately, knowing Bobby knew, I realized I had made a mistake.
Since Thanksgiving we had been unofficially apart. I call it unofficial because we never really broke it off. When he had told me in no uncertain terms to "back off" I did. I thought if I gave him his space he would come back. He didn't. So I moved on. Maybe my rebound roll in the hay being with a fellow detective wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but it had to be someone.
Not to mention the fact that Bobby Goren does not get a say in the men I choose to spend my time with outside of work. He doesn't even get to have an opinion. He gave that right up when he told me to "back off." The way he's treated me since Thanksgiving hardly even qualifies as being friendly. Sure, he asked me if we were okay. What does that even mean? Sure we're okay. No one's dead or bleeding on the floor. We're fine. But since when is that considered good enough?
So why do I feel guilty? I don't think I ever expected myself to be the girl that stayed at home and waited for the guy to come around. Either the guy WAS around or he wasn't. Yet here I am. I went out and got a new guy, one who seems nice and charming and intelligent, and it's given me no peace of mind. Pleasure of body maybe, but certainly no peace of mind.
Somewhere in the depths of my psyche I feel like I've done something wrong. It's probably because I know, in my heart of hearts, that I did it to spite Bobby. A man who already is carrying around the weight of the world. Sure, he didn't have the right to take it out on me… but he did. And so in my twisted mind it justified throwing it back in his face. At least last night it did.
There is this banging. Why won't it stop? I feel like someone has taken a hammer to my head or, at the very least, to my house. Wait. Wait. Wait. It's knocking. The hammering on my house is knocking. Bingo.
I'm going to wait. I'm going to wait until it goes away. I know who it is and it is not going to be invited inside tonight. I'm just going to grab this bottle off the coffee table and take another swig. Ignorance is bliss. This sudden scratching that sounds like a key in a lock forces me out of my reverie and into reality. Still, I'm not even going to sit up. If he wants to come in let him. As much as I care, I know I'm not up for whatever it is he's serving.
"Alex? Eames? Are you here?"
He knows I'm here. Why is he pretending? He sounds almost angry. The lights are on and the car is in the driveway. As I let out a breath I wasn't fully conscious I had been holding I start to realize that the idea of having an angry Bobby in my house makes me not a little bit nervous.
Suddenly he's standing over me, his eyes boring into mine.
"Hi yourself." That's it let's try to be a nonchalant as possible. Still, as much as I would love to just smile and nod I can feel my anger starting to simmer just below the surface. A dormant volcano coming back to life.
"You want to tell me what that was today?" he queries.
"You want to tell me why you're standing uninvited in my apartment asking me about things that don't concern you?"
"Things that don't concern me? I'm sorry, was there a memo I missed? Last time I checked we had something going on. As in something that made it wrong for us to seek out other people for sex."
"Last time you checked? When was that? After telling me to back off or before asking me if we were okay and then continuing to ignore the problems between us?" I could feel my hostility growing. The anger was no longer just simmering. It was about to boil over the sides of the pot.
"Alex. Dammit…" I heard him start to trail off and he moved from his position standing above me and started to pace. It seems, for the first time in a long time, that he may be realizing that I can't be blamed for everything here.
"Alex…" Again with the failure to form a sentence.
"Alex what? What do you want to say to me Bobby? What were you expecting? In fact, what did you expect to even get out of coming here tonight? Did you come here to see if I brought Peter home with me, are you that masochistic?"
"What were you thinking? Did you think I wouldn't notice when you two arrived together this morning? I mean, would it kill you to have some tact?"
"Oh, you're really one to talk. Did you expect me to wait for you Bobby? Wait until you got over whatever issues seem to be tethering you to a post? Guess what. I waited. And waited. And waited. You never came around. You know when my husband died as much as it hurt it taught me one of the greatest life lessons I've ever had to learn. You don't wait for things Bobby. Not for that long. And you know, for you I probably would have continued to wait had you given me a sign. Something to show me you were still alive in that head of yours and not just a puppet going through the motions of life. I respect myself enough to know that I deserve better."
"Too good for me but not above a one night stand, that it?"
"Screw you." I want to hit him so badly. Then the feeling seems to start to pass. I'm realizing that irrational Alex is coming out to play. Sometimes she and I are good friends, other times she paints me into a corner and makes decisions that aren't the best in the long run. Unfortunately, in this moment I don't know what right is.
I decide it's time to stand up on my own two legs. I'm tired of watching Bobby dance circles around me.
"What did you hope to accomplish by coming here?" I hear myself and realize that my voice has softened. I'm starting to put irrational Alex back into the closet. "Really, Bobby? What do you want? Did you come here to hurt me with your words? Did you come here to see if I was with someone else? Does that serve any real purpose to you? It's done. There is nothing between Peter and I. It was a one-off. But I don't owe you any explanations about that. You and I, we work together. We're not doing anything else. You've made sure of that. You wanted me to reach out to you. I did. You shoved me away. I can't let you play with my head like that. I'm not that strong. " I gaze out the window into the darkness of night. Why won't he just leave? I'm much better on my own. "You should go." There. I said it. There are no mixed signals to be deciphered, no messages to decode.
"Tell me it's over."
"I just asked you to leave."
"Look at me and tell me it's over."
And I can't. I can't look at him and tell him that. I want to, but I can't bare the fact that I will have to see pain in the eyes of someone I at one time saw as one of my best friends and know that I caused that pain to be there.
Suddenly I'm being pulled around and stared into. I literally feel as though his eyes are drilling deep down into my soul. Maybe into a place I can't even see. Then it happens.
I'm feeling his lips on mine and I don't even know how to respond. They're soft, just as I remember them. Like riding a bike, it's one of those things you never forget. The touch of someone who you know loves you unconditionally. I feel it, but I'm still wondering whether love is always enough to make up for what is lacking.
Then they're gone. I feel the loss immediately and I'm also sensing the finality of the situation. I know we're both trying to get some closure on the last few months but I can see what's happening right now for what it's really worth.
"Tell me it's over." He's a broken record and I can't tell if it's me that broke him or if he was just made that way. I'm realizing now that his question relates to the whole pie of our existence and not just a single slice.
And I don't know the answer.