Bobby Goren sat on his couch as he did every Saturday night: alone, miserable, and surrounded by empty liquor bottles. Well, not all of them were empty. He still had half a bottle of Glenlivit to go, and one last bottle of Guinness out of six to wash it down with.
For some reason, tonight was worse than most. He’d been lonely before, but not since his time in the Army, curled in on himself in his bunk and trying somehow to pull himself back out of the minds he was forced inside, had he been this forlorn. But even that hell was nothing compared to this. This was more than loneliness. This was agony.
His head rose from his hands, tears still damp across his skin. His eyes fixed on his phone, a single thought dominating him. She could be on the other end of that line if he willed it. His touchstone to sanity, to the world. His lifeline. His deepest obsession. His frantic prayer. All he had to do was…
A horrid, laughing little voice rose in his mind, his head sinking back into his ready hands. No, she wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t care for him. No one could. No one ever had, and no one ever would. It could never happen. His eyes stung with fresh tears as he reached for the uncorked Scotch bottle. He was destined to be the perfect cop. The perfect cop, the perfect partner, and for it he would die miserable and alone.
Alex Eames sat on the end of her couch, nursing a second cup of warm milk to try and relax. The TV buzzed low in the background, some kind of horror movie playing that she simply couldn’t focus on. She’d canceled her third date this month to sit alone in her tiny apartment, taking bad TV over worse company.
Not that Lewis was so bad, she thought as she sipped. He was nice enough, he just wasn’t… She shook her head sharply, jarring that thought loose before it got a firm hold. This was not about him. This was not about her partner.
She laughed to herself. If it wasn’t about her partner, why did he keep becoming the centre of her thoughts? How did he keep winding his way across her feelings without even being in the same area code?
As if she didn’t think about him enough at work. Just sitting across from that enormous, sad-eyed genius made her warm in very unpartnerly places. She would catch his eyes once or twice, and she would wonder what he was thinking when his suddenly shy eyes darted away. Was he thinking about her beyond the boundaries of the shield as well? Was he thinking about running those long, deft fingers across her skin? Did he dream about pressing that soft, pale mouth of his to the most sacred parts of her body? Did he fantasize about how he could use his no doubt well-endowed body to make her scream his name?
She set her cup down and switched off the TV, desperate for some air. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her keys, thinking about how nice a drive would be.
This was insane. Why was he dwelling on this? It was never this bad at work. He sat across from her every day and never felt this lost. Why the hell was this creeping in on him now? The silence that surrounded him was more than enough answer. Being lonely before hadn’t been as hard because he knew nothing else. Now he knew what was out there; he knew exactly what he wanted. He just wanted to be held. He didn’t care if it made him weak or wimpy. Not that a nice, healthy romp in the sack with the was out of the question, but he just wanted to reach out and hold the woman he cared for in his arms, that’s all. And he knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
He leaned back against his couch, the alcohol finally setting in with a very distinct thump in his occipital lobe. Oh yeah, Scotch was kicking in. Maybe a good nap would help.
Yeah, he thought with a wry grin as he stood without much effort. Nothing like a twenty hour nap full of nightmares to make him feel better about waking up cold and alone. Her slipped on his shoes and downed the last few drops of his beer. He needed air. He had to get out of here. Now.
She shouldn’t be here, she thought as she pulled to a halt in front of his apartment building. Alex never was one to go on impulse, but tonight felt…different somehow. She was more than just compelled to be here, she was determined. Something was drawing her here, and it was more than just the desperate hormones of a libido in need of a jump-start.
Besides, this was Bobby. Her friend, her partner, and a man she could trust beyond anything she’d ever known. He could help her, even if she didn’t know why she needed help. He’d figure it all out, set her right, and send her home feeling better than she ever could on her own. That thought followed her as she got out of her SUV and made her way to the door of Bobby’s building.
For some reason she couldn’t place, she looked up at the night’s sky, marveling at how clear the stars were tonight. The sky had no clouds, and it was clear enough to even see-
A figure caught her attention then. It stood atop the building some forty stories up, but she’d worked alongside that figure enough years to know it anywhere. And then her feet were in motion, faster than she thought possible.
The door to the roof of his building was locked as usual, but after enough years in the Army surrounded by now long-dead fellow soldiers that he longed to forget existed, the little things he picked up along the way became useful. Things like breaking and entering.
He made his way across the barren rooftop, a soft breeze dancing over cold cement and a soft glow eminating from beyond the wall at the roof’s edge. The wall stood a good five feet tall, probably to discourage jumpers. How ironic, Bobby scoffed as he lifted himself onto the three-foot-wide wall without effort. Some rules only applied to the normal.
Everything looked so peaceful. The harsh sounds and lights of the city softened at this height, everything forming a shadowed glow. If only he could forget what lay beneath that glossy veneer, all blood and hate and violence. If only he could forget what had brought him here. Alex. Sweet, beautiful, intelligent, remarkable Alex.
And he meant nothing to her. He was her partner, nothing more. She could never care for him, and he knew it. She had loved, and she would never love again. She wouldn’t be hurt, and he certainly wouldn’t be the one who hurt her. He would endure this alone. He would live with his own love, and it would have to be enough. It never would be, but he would have to survive on it. Alone.
The door behind him slammed open, and he turned atop the enclosing wall to see someone burst through. He must have left the door ajar, he thought in his slight haze. He didn’t bother to look long enough to identify them. They weren’t important.
He wasn’t important either, not then. From up here, he was just another ant on the farm, going about his task of living. And for once that didn’t really matter to him. If felt good to have no one depend on him. That way, he didn’t have to let people down. He spent so much time being right. Why couldn’t he just be cared for and have done with it all?
For months he’d been without her, and it had torn him apart. Now she’d returned to him, at long last, and he felt drawn further from her still. What had he done to make her so distant? Did she know how he’d felt without her? How he’d wished she’d never gotten pregnant just so he could have her all to himself? Or how when she’d first left his side and he’d been saddled with that bitch Bishop, how he’d wished she’d miscarry just to have her back? Could she know how he’d cursed her for being so wonderful for her brother? How he’d wished with everything he had that the child she carried was his?
So many nights he’d spent in cold sweats and tears, wondering if she was all right, wanting to call and knowing he couldn’t. So many days he’d spent having his shadow stepped on by that stupid bitch, wishing he had his Alex back. No, not his. She belonged to everyone but him. Never him. Never….
She became quickly reoriented with the outside air, panting as her heart drum-rolled against her ribs. Bobby. It was. She’d wanted to hope, pray that she’d been wrong and was interrupting some other nut committing suicide. But no, this was Bobby. Her partner, her friend, fuck it all the man she loved. What the hell was he doing up there?
She approached slowly, making sure not to make too much noise so as not to disturb him. If he was agitated, an aggravated Bobby was a moving Bobby, and she didn’t want him to move, not if it meant forward, anyway. Back would have been just fine.
“Bobby?”
He turned, just enough to see her outline in his peripheral vision. Her voice sounded different, but she did look about right.
“Alex?”
“Bobby, come down and talk to me.”
“And say what exactly?” That came out wrong. Harsh, angry. He wasn’t angry, not with her. He couldn’t face her right now. He’d say something even more stupid, and he’d just hurt her again.
“I needed help figuring something out. Come down and help me?”
The last thing he could handle right then was helping someone with their personal issues, especially since he was having such a problem with his own.
Personal issues. What a novel concept. Of course she would come to see him because something was wrong. Heaven forbid she or anyone else just come to see him. They all just used him, used his superb mind and willing body for their own gain, their own needs. Even his own partner, a woman who meant more to him than his own sanity. What about his needs? Did any of them care what he’d been through to get this far? What he went through every day for them? For her? Could she ever understand how much her presence calmed his mind and warmed his metal black heart? He ran a hand through his hair, his balance on the wall never wavering as his arm swung out wide. “Look, whatever this is, can it wait until morning?”
Dear God, he was gesturing. He was always scrambling when he did it like that, always looking for something. A way out? Calculating how long he’d fall before… No, she couldn’t think about that. Wouldn’t, but it didn’t stop. The thought of walking out his building door and finding him on the sidewalk, a broken, bleeding mess, brought tears to her eyes. She wiped the first away quickly, but they didn’t come alone.
“Bobby, please. Come down.” He didn’t have to see her to hear the catch in her voice. He couldn’t stifle the groan deep in his throat, a sound he hoped she didn’t hear. What the hell was he doing? Alex needed him, came to him for help, and all he could do was bitch about his own pathetic existence? Was he truly this selfish? How could he turn her away? Did some morbid, sadistic part of him enjoy making the woman he loved unhappy? Was that what it took to make him see what an ass he was being? Had been since this whole mess began? And there she was, everything he’d ever wanted, at his doorstep! And all he could do was push her away because he was too drunk to think about anything other than his own self-pity. No, he thought, he couldn’t do this, not to her. He didn’t care about himself. He didn’t matter, but she did. She mattered. Alex…
Wait, he thought suddenly. What was Alex doing here, anyway? She was supposed to be at home, sleeping, or whatever it was she did when she wasn’t around him. Playing with her new nephew, maybe. Or could he just be imagining her, his need to be near her that far gone? Yes, he was insane after all, he thought with a soft smile. Perhaps his insanity had caught up to him at last, and the voice in his head was that of the one woman he couldn’t have. How just…
No, not again, she thought as she watched him sway slightly. She wasn’t getting through to him. She had to think of something fast, or he might…
A scene of another kind flashed across her mind. A scene she had only been told about, by a partner already in tears. A desperate man with a gun outside a bank, her old bank. He stood in the middle of the street, drawing his sidearm, ready to take aim when the bank robber spotted him. A single shot, and it was all over. Hot tears shot down her face as she watched her husband’s body fall to the pavement, dead before he stopped falling. Only it wasn’t her husband! That was not Jonathon’s face. It was the face of a man she knew just as well and loved just as much, and who now stood before her ready to take her heart away a second time…
He turned toward his conjured image and suddenly regretted ever leaving his couch. Alexandra Eames, flesh and blood and perfect feminine temptation, stood before him a ghost of his every fantasy. A single tear trekked down each rosy cheek, her bright eyes shimmering with more. Her slender arms were wrapped tight around her chest. She was real; she had to be. He would never imagine her looking so frail, so vulnerable.
His instincts were base suddenly, a need to protect and shelter her from whatever had brought her here welling in his chest. Dream or no dream, he would not let even an imagined Alex go unguarded near him. Wow, he thought. God bless liquid courage. He stepped down from the ledge, his shoes thumping hard against the cement. He straightened slowly, his back creaking, and was thrown back against the wall by a small, rather light body, her arms squeezing the breath from his lungs.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” She wailed into him. Her every sob echoed in his chest, and suddenly his strong arms couldn’t hold her tight enough. She was real! She smelled heavenly and was warm and soft and… and crying. She was crying! Why the hell was he happy when Alex was in tears? He couldn’t be that drunk, could he? It dawned on him in a rush of searing pain, his mind straining for clarity through far too much booze. He’d been on the wall when she’d come to him, and all she’d wanted to do was get him down. She thought he was going to jump? Sweet heaven, what had he done?!
“What were you thinking?”
“I-”He choked back the tears in his own throat, his mind fogged beyond the feel of her. Alex. Sweet, perfect Alexandra, and she was crying because of him…
“It’s not what you’re thinking…”
“What, you think I wanted to find you spread out on the pavement in front of your building? You think I wanted to get a call this morning about how I’d lost another man I care about?” They both froze, both sets of eyes wide, one at what had been said, the other at what it could mean.
“Tell me you aren’t just saying that…”
“Why would I lie to you, Bobby? Besides,” she said softly, her voice shaking as her fingers linked around his waist, “why would I already be here, trying to get you down, if I wasn’t already here of my own accord?”
“Why are you here?”
I wanted to come see you.” She buried her face in his chest, and he kissed the top of her head as he felt her shiver. “I can’t lose you, Bobby. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever...”
“Stay. Stay with me tonight.” His voice shook as his lips moved in her silky hair, and he knew he was not long for control.
“As long as you want me to.”
“Werden Sie ewig bleiben?” The words slipped from him in a language he hadn’t used in years. A language his father taught him, and his mother used against him many times. Alex lifted her head from his chest, a smile so lovely across her face that it took the breath from his body. An act repeated as her lips pressed to his. The touch was so light he thought surely he’d imagined it, but as he pressed forward and felt her arms wrap all the tighter around him, he didn’t care if this was all some crazy dream.
“Of course I will,” she whispered against his mouth. With that she led him to the rooftop door, leaving behind more sadness than he could ever thank her for.
Her touch was soft yet firm as she led him on, and she was very glad she wasn’t still shaking. They reached the elevator, and she snuggled back against him, sighing as his arms wrapped around her and his cheek pressed against her. He smelled awfully good, and awfully drunk, too. She was almost afraid of what she’d find when they reached his apartment.
And sure enough, when he opened his door his coffee table was littered with empty bottles, including a very empty bottle of good Scotch.
“Tell me you don’t do this very often.”
“I may never do it again.” She smiled up at him and turned off the light, leading him into his bedroom and the darkness he welcomed for the first time…ever.
He stood behind her and watched her outline against the soft moonlight through his thick curtains. She moved for her shirt, but he couldn’t have that.
He was behind her suddenly, her hands covered in his and the mingled scents of sweet liquor and Bobby overwhelmed her.
“Let me…” The tank top she wore was soft cotton and thin, thin enough to feel her every curve. Her arms wrapped up around his neck as his hands roamed over her stomach and chest, and he relished in her gasp as gentle fingertips ran over her tightening nipples. He slipped down and pulled the shirt over her head, the warmth of her skin against him seeping past the low buzz of the alcohol.
His hands slipped lower and unzipped her jeans, pushing them and her panties with them down just far enough that they fell to her ankles. She twirled around in his touch, tiny fingers slipping his own pants from his hips, following them swiftly by his boxers. His shirt followed quickly, cool air and warm Alex singing across his skin. Her arms around his neck, he pressed her against him, the scent and feel of her making every nerve in his body shake.
“Let me love you…”
“Only if you let me love you too, Bobby.” He could hear her smile, and without a thought to balance he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed. They fell forever onto his soft mattress, thick quilt and thicker pillows, her soft giggle making his head spin.
She curled against him, her tiny body cradled in his long arms. Soft hair tickled his skin a moment, then became a silken blanket that warmed him body and soul. Her breath fluttered gently across his skin, a tiny purr against the darkness. He laid a kiss atop her head before settling into the pillows. This was going to be the best night’s sleep he’d had in decades.
Disclaimer: The characters, names, and references made herein belong to NBC, inc, Wolf Productions, etc. No copyright infringement intended. For fun, not profit.
