A Bobby drabble that came to me and is partially inspired by Pat Monahan's single 'Her Eyes'. All errors are mine. Bobby belongs to Dick Wolf et al. I like to write about him. This is short, possibly my shortest one shot to date. All errors are my own. Please read and rate if so inclined, they are always appreciated.

Brown Eyes.

Brown eyes. It surprises him when he finds out that her eyes are brown. With hair that blonde, he expects her eyes to be a summer blue, like the sky on a cloudless day, but they're not. They are brown, deep and dark and impenetrable, it's hard to know what she's thinking and she uses that to her advantage. He's sat opposite her in interrogation enough times to know that she likes to use that darkness for her own twisted imaginings. He's seen that insane glint often enough too, always accompanied by that wide, gleeful grin but there's never any true emotion in there. Her father obliterated that the first time he placed his licentious hands on her.

Brown eyes. He notices they're not so dark. He's seen them light up when she smiles. He's also seen them darken with pain. He hates that most of all. He feels guilty when he's been the one to put that pain there but he doesn't do it deliberately. He can't get over the feeling that he crossed an invisible line when they investigated her late husband's murder. They had got the right guy but he feels that the damage has been done and he wonders whether she'll ever forgive him. He shouldn't feel any guilt but he does. He feels guilty that the truth hasn't made it any easier for her and she thinks he hasn't noticed the subtle disengagement, the slight disconnection, but he has. It hurts but he understands.

Brown eyes. He remembers how they used to sparkle. She had liked to read to him, he remembers the joy in her eyes when they shared a new imaginary world together created through the pages of a brand new book. She used to bring them home like they were newly discovered treasures, wonderful unexplored worlds and to him and his developing sense of self, they had been. Then the sparkle went and in its place was confusion. She didn't recognise him and he missed her. Once in a while a familiar flash of her would return, and he always hoped that she would be back for good, but she never was. Her visits to his world were fleeting and as he got older he accepted them for what they were, when they happened. He misses her and he struggles to accept this world without her. He battles with the growing anger, the growing injustices and the conundrum that she left him with. He forgives her, he always forgives her but this time he finds it hard.

Brown eyes, staring back at him from the mirror. He realises that he has tired eyes. Everything is too much. They have seen so much. His eyes are dark, like his mother's. He wonders if that's all that he's inherited. His eyes are mirrors to a cracked soul, maybe beyond repair but somewhere, deep inside he tries to hold onto hope but he feels as though his grip is slowly loosening.

Blue eyes. Cold, remorseless and seemingly carved from ice. Those are the eyes that he can't get out of his mind. He tries but he remembers how he had stared at them, before the dots started connecting and the true horror of possibilities dawned on him. Cornflower blue and witness to so much horror, so much depravity. No soul, there had been nothing there but an unrelenting blackness, an unquestioning evil. He wonders about him again and he remembers his mother's deathbed confession. It still has the power to shred his insides into irreparable, bleeding pieces, but as always, he forgives her.