A/N: The usual disclaimers.
The inspiration for this story is a song by Depeche Mode called "A Question of Lust." The song lyrics appear in the body of the story in bold Italics. It's one of my favs by them: an angsty, emotional tune. Anyone not familiar with it may want to see if you can download it from somewhere on the web and give it a listen. I, personally, love the lyrics, but (IMHO) it's the haunting melody and voice that bring it to life.
WHAT KEEPS US TOGETHER?
It was early on a Saturday morning. As usual, Bobby had no success in his attempt to sleep the night before. In fact, he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in months. Not since it all began.
He sat on his couch staring blankly at the television that wasn't even on. It was 6:35 a.m. His taxi wasn't due to arrive until 8:00 a.m.
The sun had just risen and cast a warm golden hue over the room, but he needed much more than any light or warmth the sun could offer. He needed her. He always had. Without her, his life –his world—was barren and cold. He actually felt a chill and shudder run down his spine.
Bobby watched, as a million tiny dust particles swirled through the air, dancing in the sun's rays. It was just another reminder of how he had let his life spiral out of control – he no longer even bothered keeping his apartment clean.
He took another gulp from the glass of orange juice – but not before adding another shot of vodka, as if the extra liquor would erase the memories. Sometimes it succeeded in distorting them, but he could never drink enough to eradicate them.
He let his head fall back on the cushion and closed his eyes. His mind drifted back….to three months earlier.
…
It all began innocently enough. A typical Friday night after a long, extra-hard week's work. Bobby and Alex, Logan and Barek, unwinding at Carucci's with a few drinks and friendly rounds of billiards. None of them knew at the time, but whenever Alex and Caroline excused themselves to the ladies' room and Mike went outside to smoke, Bobby would "down" at least two more shots of tequila and a double scotch. He was used to his size and weight giving him an extra edge when it came to holding his liquor, but he was already far past his body's tolerance.
Alex had assured their fellow detectives that she could manage getting Bobby home; it wasn't the first time. It didn't occur to her until much later that the scenario of delivering a drunk Bobby home was becoming far too familiar. She blamed herself for not seeing the warning signs sooner.
Once back at his apartment on that fateful night, the liquor –fueling his years' long lust and yearning for Alex, took over. She thought, at first, he was being playful – he usually was a "happy" drunk – it was just a quick kiss that he tried to steal as she led him through the narrow hall into the bedroom. But the second time he closed in on her, it was more forceful. He used his size and weight to pin her against the wall and his massive hands to hold her face while his mouth hungrily explored hers –too drunk to notice she wasn't reciprocating; too drunk to hear her words of protest, muffled by his mouth over hers.
Then she got afraid. She knew she was no match for his strength. She grabbed his wrists, yanking his hands away from her face and took a step back. The look he saw on her face and in her eyes practically destroyed him: fear for her safety ---fear of him; disbelief; outrage and, perhaps worst of wall, disgust.
She pushed his shoulders as hard as she could, sending his unsteady, drunken body backwards, slamming up against the opposite wall.
She turned and ran, slamming the apartment door as she left, while Bobby numbly slid down the wall, huddling into a weeping ball on the floor.
…
Bobby could barely muster up the courage to report to work on Monday. To say that Alex had given him the 'cold shoulder' would be an understatement – she was ice.
It didn't go unnoticed by Deakins, and certainly not by Logan and Barek. They all asked, once, what was going on between Bobby and Alex. Bobby told them, in no uncertain terms, to mind their own business, or else. Alex's response wasn't much different, but at least she was more diplomatic.
Even though weeks…now months had passed, no one made the mistake of asking twice.
They surmised there had been a major falling out of some type, but Goren and Eames continued to work together, on a professional level, solving cases. It just wasn't like it used to be. No more lunches together; no more Friday nights at Carucci's –not for Alex, anyway. She now used Friday nights for errands or visiting her nephew, or any other excuse she could find for not making the foursome.
Unfortunately, Bobby, Logan and Barek continued the three-some and Mike inherited the job of getting Bobby home safely. He was drinking more than ever. Logan tried reasoning with him, but ultimately gave up his preaching and offerings of advice.
Over the weeks and months, Bobby tried to apologize on numerous occasions, either verbally or by some small token or gesture. He would still bring Alex's coffee and danish from time to time, he gave her a chocolate bunny at Easter and, of course, a birthday gift. Bobby's mental state grew even worse when, one Saturday he stopped by the office, snooped in her desk, and discovered the birthday gift still in her draw, unopened, some six weeks later. The sight made his stomach twist into a knot and his heart sink. It was apparent that Alex wanted nothing from him and nothing to do with him.
…
A honking horn outside roused Bobby from his thoughts. He checked the clock on the VCR; it was 7:20 a.m. "Must just be traffic," he figured. It's not time for my cab yet."
He walked to the window and looked out, anyway. He swallowed the rest of his breakfast screwdriver and stared out the window. "Might as well take one last look," he told himself. "I won't be seeing this for a while."
He sank back down into the sofa and returned to his thoughts.
Just this prior Monday, Bobby was informed, by carbon copy of a memo, no less, that Alex would be taking a six-week leave from Major Case. She and Olivia Benson had volunteered to go "on loan", bringing their expertise to the Newark Police Department to help them get their new Sex Crimes Unit established and underway.
It was another severe, jolting blow to Bobby. She hadn't even discussed it with him. But he was afraid to confront her about the issue so, instead, for the sake of avoiding another argument, he pretended that it didn't bother him; he even offered his congratulations, adding that the Newark PD was lucky to have her and Olivia.
She didn't respond.
…
Bobby, in fact, was so distraught that he went straight home after work on Monday, planning to drown his sorrows with another bottle of Dewar's.
He didn't bother with a glass. He flopped down on the sofa and drank straight from the bottle. "How could she do this? Not even bother to tell me?"
Then something clicked. A realization, a moment of clarity and self-honesty. Everything that had gone wrong between them was his fault, due, in large part, to his problem with alcohol. Alex was an innocent bystander, as usual, getting sucked into and becoming a victim of the depression and loneliness and craziness that was the drama of Bobby's life.
He knew he was losing her. Losing his partner, his friend…then his career and his mind wouldn't be far behind. The fault was all his. He knew there was only one thing he could do. He was on a downward spiral and needed to hit the brakes before hitting bottom.
So on Monday night, he called her.
Alex: "Hello?"
Bobby: "It's me."
Alex: "Yeah?"
Bobby: "Eames…A-A-Alex." His voice cracked a bit, as he swallowed the lump in his throat.
Alex: "What is it, Goren?"
Bobby: "I need you." His voice quivered –and cracked again. He didn't want her to know he was on the verge of tears. It had taken all of his courage just to get the words out.
Alex: "What's wrong? Have you been drinking?"
Bobby: "No…well…"
Alex: "Uh-huh…I figured…"
Bobby: "Alex, I swear…I took one swig from the bottle and put it down. I-I…. I can't do it anymore, Alex, I can't be like this anymore….I can't live like this anymore."
A long, heavy sigh escaped her lips, but she gave no verbal response.
Bobby: "Alex?" She heard his desperation. "Please."
Alex: "I'll be there in twenty minutes. And don't you dare have a drink!" She hung up.
…
As promised, twenty minutes later, a knock came on his door. Both anxious and fearful, he answered the door, stepping far back, giving her a wide berth to enter the apartment.
The apartment was too warm. He looked flushed and his forehead and upper lip bore tiny beads of perspiration.
"Thank you for coming," he said softly.
She walked to the living room and took a seat on the sofa.
"So, I was expecting you to flip out about the memo. Personnel could've gone about that in a better way, but, umm, go ahead."
He sat down on the far end of the couch, leaving a good three feet of space between them. He wanted her to feel safe.
"It-it's not about the memo…well, we can talk about that later, but that's not why I asked you here."
She could tell he was nervous. His voice was barely audible – definitely not the booming, confident voice of Bobby Goren that she was used to. He couldn't look at her when he spoke and his fingers nervously scratched at the fabric of the sofa.
"Okay, so why did you ask me here?"
He let out sigh and lowered his head even further.
"I need help." His voice was barely a whisper, partly due to embarrassment, partly due to the huge lump in his throat that he was trying to choke back.
She inched closer, lowering her head to see his face, but he had already lowered his head even more, and was now shielding his face with his hands.
And then, he couldn't keep it bottled up any longer. She watched his shoulders shudder as he broke down. She instantly felt guilty that she had been contributing towards bringing this man -- her partner, her friend -- to this condition.
His quivering words came with gasps, as he rambled and tried to explain everything through the tears.
"It's all my fault…for doing that to you…I don't why I did that to you…being drunk is no excuse…I'm so sorry…I need your help…I know I have to stop drinking…I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry." He was rocking back and forth, overcome with the emotions of regret and fear of losing her.
"I'm so sorry…I'm so ashamed…please…please say you're still my friend…"
Alex could stand the sight no longer. Her Bobby, reduced to this. She moved closer and put her arm around shoulders, then soothed him, rubbing his back in small circles.
He turned towards her, still trying to hide his sad brown eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
She took him in her arms and pulled him close, cradling his head against her chest as she stroked his hair.
"Sshhhh, sssshhhh, it's okay baby…it's gonna' be okay," she comforted him.
Fragile
Like a baby in your arms
Be gentle with me
I'd never willingly
Do you harm…
She rocked him and alternately stroked his hair and placed tender kisses on his head.
"I'm so sorry…I would never have hurt you…you have to know that…I'm so sorry…" he repeated, in rambling, whispered promises.
Apologies
Are all you seem to get from me…When Bobby had calmed down a bit, Alex went to the bathroom and got a facecloth soaked with cool water. It was hot in the apartment; she wanted to make him more comfortable and soothe his stinging eyes.
She returned to the sofa and, once again, pulled him into her embrace, his head resting on her. She took the cool cloth and ran it over his forehead and cheeks eyelids, then down under his chin, to cool his neck. Alex bent her head to one side, to look at Bobby's face. He looked much better…and content. There was the slightest indication of a little smile at the corners of his lips, as he reveled in her ministrations.
But just like a child
You make me smile
When you care for me
And you know…
He straightened himself, but Alex still stuck close, one arm around his shoulders, for both physical and moral support.
"I know it's all my fault," he restated. "With the drinking…and I let my feelings for you come out…"
Alex interrupted. "You know what they say! When people are drunk, that's when the truth comes out," she tried to joke, to lessen his uneasiness.
"You're not a stupid woman, Alex. You must know that I've wanted you for so long…and I was drunk and confused an…and I wanted you to want me."
She remained silent at the confession, but continued rubbing his back.
Bobby continued. "It hurt me to think that you didn't trust me...to stop…I would've stopped…I'd never hurt you or do anything against your wishes…but now everything is ruined…our five years' worth of friendship and trust…our partnership…the past few months…I felt so helpless just standing by and watching our whole world crumble…"
It's a question of lust
It's a question of trust
It's a question of not letting
What we've built upCrumble to dust
It is all of these things and more
That keep us together…
"It hasn't, Bobby," she tried to assure him. "It's been a rough couple of months, but we're strong…you're strong…you can beat this problem."
"But you're going away," he said with a sigh.
"It's just Newark. Besides, it's only for six weeks…it's not for eternity." She mussed his hair. "Besides, each of us is strong enough to work independently of the other. You were strong enough to realize and decide on your own that you needed help."
He nodded.
"Your friends will always be there for you, Bobby, but most of the work you're gonna' have to do on your own."
He nodded in agreement.
She continued, "And this assignment with Olivia…well, it's just something I needed to do on my own, and it's a good opportunity to get out and do something different, but we can talk about that some other time, okay?"
He nodded, again.
"I'm not giving up on our partnership. I'm not letting you go." She took his chin in her dainty fingers and turned his head so she could look him in the eyes. "Didn't I promise you a long time ago that I'd never leave?"
Independence
Is still important for us though –we realize
It's easy to make
The stupid mistake
Of letting go – do you know what I mean?
He smiled and exhaled a long, deep sigh of relief.
"But six weeks without you," he shook his head. "I'm only half as good without you by my side. You know how we balance and counter each other…our strong points and our weaknesses…and the way this drinking thing just crept in and took over…almost ruined my life…I would love for us to be together, outside of the office –I'm not gonna' lie… but I have to get myself "right" first…"
My weaknessesYou know each and every one –it frightens me
But I need to drink
More than you seem to think
Before I'm anyone's
And you know…
It's a question of lust
It's a question of trust
It's a question of not letting
What we've built upCrumble to dust
It is all of these things and more
That keep us together.
A knock at the door startled Bobby from his memories. He checked the VCR clock again: 7:45.
He walked to the door and looked out the peephole. He smiled.
"Hi!" Alex said, as she walked in and kissed his cheek.
"Hi," he smiled back. "What are you doing here?"
"I just came to say good-bye and see ya' off."
"My ride's supposed to be here at eight."
She took a seat on the sofa but looked towards the hallway where he was standing, noticing the suitcase packed and ready to go.
He looked at the windowsill – where he had left his glass. "Oh no!" he said to himself, as he remembered that the bottle of vodka was on the floor next to the sofa.
He walked to the couch and sat down.
"You nervous?" she asked.
"A little." He admitted. "But I'm more nervous about something else."
"What's that?"
He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. Then turned to her, to look her in the eye. "How you're gonna' react when I tell you I did it again."
Her shoulders slumped a little, but she tried to manage a reassuring smile. "At least you told me the truth…at least you're not hiding it. That's a start."
"It's gonna' be a long thirty days," he sighed.
"Well, you're allowed to have visitors after two weeks, so I'll come and see ya' then," Alex promised.
He nodded, "Thanks."
"Fair Oaks is supposed to be a pretty good place. Just make sure you listen to your counselors and participate in your groups," she told him. "You'll be out of re-hab in 30 days and be back at work, good as new."
"But you won't be. You'll still be in Newark for two more weeks."
"It'll go by quickly, you'll see."
He appreciated her support and optimism.
They sat silently for a minute, then heard a horn outside – Bobby's car had arrived.
He grabbed his suitcase and locked up the apartment. Alex walked him to the car and, while the driver took his bag and loaded it in the trunk, she gave him a big hug.
He relished the feeling and the scent of her.
"Thanks for everything, Alex," he said, with one last big squeeze.
"You're welcome. You take care of yourself, okay?"
He turned to get into the car, but she held his arm.
"You forgot something," she teased.
"What?"
"My good-bye kiss," she said, smiling up at him.
He stepped towards her with trepidation. She raised her arms and looped them around his neck, pulling him down to her face.
She kissed his lips –gently at first, then deeper. Neither cared that the driver was waiting.
He smiled down at her, "Thanks for that."
She smiled as she watched him get in the back seat, then wave as the car pulled away.
Kiss me goodbye
When I'm on my own
But you know that I'dRather be home
It's a question of lust
It's a question of trust
It's a question of not letting
What we've built upCrumble to dust
It is all of these things and more
That keep us together
THE END