Chapter Text
Give yourself a minute
to catch your breath
Give yourself a minute
figure out what next
-from “Last Ride Together”
by I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness
Bobby idly registered his surroundings through the haze of his colliding thoughts. The part of his mind that always sought out connections brought his attention to the memory of visiting Alex in this same hospital almost three years ago, right after her nephew had been born.
It was late, past visiting hours, and the hospital had slowed to the quieter rhythms of the night shift. He knew there was a chance that he wouldn’t be let into her room, but he had no intention of staying long. He just needed to see her—to make sure, again, that she was okay before he went home for the night. A shudder went through him as his thoughts touched for a countless time on how close he’d come to losing her.
When he slipped into her room, she was sleeping. He was thankful to see her face without anxiety or fear written on it, even if her peace was more likely due to sedatives or painkillers than her state of mind. He again took in the bandage on her head and the bruises on her wrists and fought back a wave of anger and nausea. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this off balance emotionally. Yes, there’d been blows. Bad ones. But he’d gotten to a point in his life where he expected attacks to come from the outside. Not from friends. Not from people he was supposed to be able to trust. And not like this. He was reeling, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
Bobby sat on a chair next to Alex’s bed. He realized that what he really wanted to do was talk things over with her. But he couldn’t. He refused to burden her with this—with his guilt and his shame—not after what she’d been through. How could he ask her to help him deal with his grief over Declan and Jo when she’d paid the price for their dysfunction—and his inability to see it.
He still couldn’t reconcile the Jo he’d taken on in the observation room with the teenager he’d met fifteen years before, and he didn’t know if he ever would. When he’d first met her, she was emerging from the gangly awkwardness that often came with adolescent growth spurts into a kind of willowy grace. She’d been so bright and delightful to talk with, but he’d expected that of Declan Gage’s daughter. What he’d never expected, what he should have seen, was that Declan, for all of the insight he had into human behavior, couldn’t see his daughter at all.
Bobby looked over at Alex, watching the even rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Eventually, his breathing matched hers, and he drew comfort from the rhythm. He wouldn’t burden her, but he would talk to her while she slept.
“I should have seen it, Eames,” he whispered, looking down at the floor as he talked. “I should have seen how he was. She was brilliant and beautiful and she adored him. And it wasn’t enough for him. It wasn’t ever going to be enough, because she wasn’t what he wanted. I know what that feels like, and I know what that means. And I should have fucking seen it.”
He paused and rubbed his face.
“My dad rode my brother like you wouldn’t believe. To this day, I don’t know which one of us had it worse. He expected so much of him, but Frank couldn’t ever meet those expectations. And I would watch that, and even though I could see how miserable Frank was, I would have given anything to have even some of that attention turned on me. I was desperate for it.
“I know a major part of my connection with Declan came from the attention he gave me. You don’t have be a profiler to understand that.” His laugh was bitter. “It was more than just approval, though. He helped me figure out my calling, and that’s no small gift. But I can’t stop thinking about what that must have been like for Jo—to watch him connect with me when he couldn’t be bothered with her. She said he was more of a father to me and the killers he studied than he was to her, and I can’t say she was wrong about that. For all his faults, Frank and I never had to watch our father give the approval he never gave us to someone else.”
He stood up and walked to the door to stare at nothing through the little window.
“He never talked about her while we were working on the case in Korea. I used to think it was just about not wanting to bring his home life into the job—a kind of healthy detachment. But now, thinking back to the times I visited him when I got back to the States—anything I learned about her I learned from her. He never really talked about her at all. And their home, Eames. There were no baby photos. No school pictures. No family portraits. Nothing. No images of anyone who wasn’t murdered or a murderer.
“When Ross was sure it was Dec, he said something about Jo being inured to the horror of what her father had done, and in a way, he was right. Somewhere along the line, all of the death and depravity he surrounded her with became normal to her. And what I want to know is when did that happen? When did she become a killer? We know when she physically killed for the first time, but when did she become capable of it? When did torture and murder become an acceptable means to an end? Because somehow, this amazing, gifted, caring young woman became someone who could sit across from you and pretend to grieve for the friend she killed and then turn around and abduct and plan to torture you. To…to kill you.”
Bobby sighed heavily and turned around to look at his sleeping partner. He blinked rapidly as he tried to keep in the tears that had been threatening to surface since he’d coaxed Jo into confessing.
“I’m so sorry, Alex. I’m sorry about what you went through…about what you’re going through.” The tears were finally falling, and he wiped angrily at his face. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Declan said I had to accept that you were dead, but I couldn’t accept that, not really. I could feel you. Even when everything said you should be gone, there was something inside me telling me you weren’t. And I’m sorry there was even a moment when I didn't listen to that voice.”
Alex shifted and moaned, and Bobby approached the foot of her bed. Her eyes opened slowly, and he noted the fear and disorientation that registered on her face before she remembered where she was.
She looked up at him. “Bobby?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, as he came around to the side of her bed.
“What time is it?” she asked, looking at the clock on the wall behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“I just…I just needed to see you.” He sat back in the chair, elbows on his knees, and leaned in towards her. “Are you in any pain? I can get the nurse.”
“You’re upset,” she said, ignoring his question. “Did you find him?”
“H-her. We found her.”
Alex frowned.
“It was Jo,” he said, looking down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. “Jo Gage.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You were right about it being a copycat—just one with inside information. Jo copied Sebastian’s M.O., murdered those girls, to try to find a way to connect with her father. When that didn’t work, she decided to punish him by…by killing you…and setting things up to…to look like he did it.”
Alex sighed. “I have no idea what to say to that.”
“There really isn’t anything to say.”
They sat for a long moment with silence hanging between them. Bobby looked over to the window sill at the flowers and cards that were already starting to amass there, evidence of the support network he was so glad she had.
It occurred to him that he had no idea what he was going to say to her family. Sorry my crazy friends almost got your daughter, sister, aunt killed? He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.
“You okay?” Alex asked, her voice pulling his gaze back to her.
“That doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “What matters is if you’re okay.”
“Bobby…”
“I’ll be okay when you’re on the other side of this.”
“I will be, you know. I’m going to get through this.”
He nodded, “I know you will.”
“You’re gonna get through this, too, Bobby.”
He looked at her through the blur of his returning tears, hoping desperately that she was right.
A/N: Heaven help me, I have navel-gazing Bobby. I’ve quoted song lyrics. I’ve named a fic after song lyrics. What’s happening to me? I plan to continue this from Alex’s point of view after tomorrow’s episode. I want to see how the writers handle the aftermath of her abduction before I take it on. Who knows. Maybe this thing will go on for the whole season.