Lost in your illusion

By Livvy

*~*~*~*



There are only so many times you can look into the eyes of the man you love and see no acknowledgement of your presence there before your spirit breaks. Lindsay has already been down this road once too many. Having sat through another silent meal with her husband, watched and waited for him to speak of what's on his mind, she'd admitted defeat when he'd risen saying he had work to do on the Morris file. She'd been determined that this time he'd open up to her because he chose to and not because she'd asked it of him. As she'd watched him walk away, she'd had to accept that that will never happen.

It had been made so clear to her, at that moment, that Bobby is a perpetual individual, he's seclusive by nature and she's been deluding herself by thinking he'd ever change. Marriage is an ideal to him. He wants a wife, a family, symbols of a life well-led, of tradition and of success. The reality, though, is that they are a partnership on paper only. He's introspective, needing no one but himself, he's a husband in name but a solitary man in nature. Disappointment, fear and anger had all raged within Lindsay as she'd sat there alone. She'd wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much pain he was causing her, to remind him that he'd promised it wouldn't be like this but the belief that such an act would be futile had had her retreating in on herself.

What she had done after his departure was a blur, she hadn't had any notion of her surroundings or activities until she'd been ensconced in her sanctuary; foetally curled on her bed. Then thoughts had rained down on her. Although Bobby had been absent, the room had felt filled by him. Everywhere she'd turned was a reflection of his presence, his mark, his ownership. She'd felt a unity with those four walls because she too was a discarded possession, good for his comfort when required but out of mind when not. Surrounded by him, hearing the echoes of conversations past, she'd never felt more alone. Crying for the loss that's eating at her heart, she'd known she couldn't continue this way. But the alternative?... Could she even contemplate the alternative?

Hours of sombre thinking go by before Lindsay hears Bobby enter the room. Although the catharsis has passed and her tears have dried, she isn't able to face him. The hurt is too raw and the hour, too late, for the confrontation that's long overdue. Giving no indication that she's heard him enter, Lindsay's eyes remain closed as she listens to him prepare for bed. Having him so close when she feels so far away from him only makes the gulf that much more potent.

Her mind churns; warring factions argue the merits of talking this out now, or burying it for yet another day. She listens in intent anticipation, 'talk to me, talk to me, talk to me,' she silently begs, while a part of her desperately hopes that he won't. She's afraid of what she may say if he does, she's afraid of how much she could lose with her words but she's terrified of the decision she may make if he doesn't.

Lindsay feels Bobby climb into bed then move up close behind her. His hand softly strokes her hip as he whispers, "You awake?"

She curses him for asking, knows that she can ignore him, she can pretend she's asleep and he'll accept that, even while knowing that it's a lie. Feeling resentment rise, in a fit of pique, she answers, "No."

Her denial comes out far harsher than she had intended and she feels Bobby's body tense behind her as he recoils from her tone. His hand stills on her hip and he pulls away slightly. Lindsay doesn't like that it had happened but she also isn't sure that his body's return is what she wants. As unwanted as his touch may be, she's still comforted by it. It embodies memories and dreams that, if she can just hold onto, can wipe away this reality she's fighting against. Lately, reality has stubbornly refused to budge, her pain rejects solace preferring to generate fury. It's safer to keep him away right now, safer for them. 'Them!' she almost laughs, derisively, believing it's a delusion to even consider the two of them, a 'them.'

Bobby, taking the fact that she hasn't pushed his hand away as a good sign, approaches again. His thumb softly circles her hip as his lips move to the exposed skin of her shoulder. When no objection is made, his hand raises and smoothes her hair off of her neck, clearing the way for his lips to softly touch there while his hand moves to caress her shoulder. The press of his lips against her skin tears at her as she feels her anger wane, she curses her weakness - her desire to be close to him, to be wrapped in his arms and sure of his love. She's taken his physical actions as surety for too long, and its resumption tonight only reminds her of the hollowness of having nothing else to believe in. She's angered that her body is so quick to be deceived by him, angered, too, that he believes all wrongs can be mitigated with a soft touch. It's her fault that he believes it. She's allowed it to happen too often, given in to her need to be loved by him and pushed away her pain, so she can accept what he offers... but no more. She can't do it anymore.

Lindsay rolls out of his grasp; laying on her stomach, she presses her face into the pillows, smothering her devastation in its folds. She feels Bobby smile against her shoulder, realizes that he sees the action as opening more of herself to him, and isn't surprised by the fact that they are seeing things so differently tonight. His lips, accompanied by his soothing hand, continue to trail over her skin. 'Stop!' she wants to scream but can't bring herself to turn him away, not when she wants him so much. She wants more of him than he's willing to offer and has always settled for whatever she can get. Bobby is a desperately hard habit to break. She cannot turn him away and hates the power that he holds over her.

Bobby's body settles against her side and Lindsay unintentionally emits a soft sigh. He chuckles and his lips press against her ear as he says, "That's got to be some dream you're having."

Afraid of the emotion her voice would convey, afraid she cannot hide her tears, Lindsay only offers a noncommittal hum in reply.

"Tell me about it," Bobby whispers.

Lindsay is ready to expel a put-upon sigh and a whine of, "Bobby!" when an idea strikes her. She pauses in consideration and decides, enough, this has gone on long enough. Determination arises as she resolves that she will tell him what she's feeling, what he's doing to her, "It's very vivid..." she begins to say.

"Good," Bobby replies, and his lips resume their journey over her. She feels him settle in closer, the hand travelling down her side searches for the hint of skin.

"I'm on a beach, lying on the sand, the warmth of the sun on my back, the sounds of the waves, crashing, and the gulls calling soothe me..." She feels Bobby smile at the detail she includes, and isn't surprised when he interrupts to bring the recitation back to what he wants to hear.

"Ooh, do you like to do it on a beach, Lindsay?"

She smiles despite herself, Playful Bobby is at her side right now, she adores him and can only hope he's the Bobby most likely to listen to her. Not wanting to push too hard, too fast, she plays along. "Two words, Bobby, sand... Ouch! So, no, I have no desire to do it on a beach, but this is a dream. In dreams things happen that will never happen in reality, so, Bobby... this sand won't be going anywhere sand isn't supposed to go."

Laughing, he nuzzles against her cheek, "Okay, so what is going to happen on this beach?"

Lindsay knows what Bobby is expecting to hear, as nervous as she is about what she plans to say, she can't help believing in the providence of this moment and taking it as a sign that all will be well.

"I'm alone, I'm thinking about the man I love..."

An open mouthed kiss presses against her neck.

"...I'm sad..."

Bobby's lips still and pull away as his body tenses beside her.

"I miss him, I'm tired of feeling so alone, I want him there with me..."

She feels his body relax and a husky voice says, "He wants to be there."

Lindsay shakes her head, "I'm not so sure of that." Her voice hitches as her emotions begin to win out.

"Lindsay?" Bobby pushes up so he's sitting. He reaches for her shoulder, tries to turn her over but she can't say these things to his face and resists. Grabbing his hand, she draws it under her, trapping it there and by extension, keeping him touching her. She hadn't liked it when his body had moved away.

Forced to lean over her now, he lowers himself down; curling against her back, he rests his cheek on her shoulder and says, "I do want to be there."

Lindsay begins speaking as if there had been no interruption. She wills herself to ignore the tension she feels radiating from him. If she wants things to change between them, then she has to see it through, she's already started, she can't stop now. "I don't know what he wants, I don't know how he feels... about me... about anything, anymore. Lately, even when he is with me, it feels like he isn't there at all. More often than not he barely meets my eyes, and... sometimes, we can be in the same room, but the walls around him are so wide that he may as well be miles away."

"Lindsay!"

Again, she continues as if he hadn't spoken. "I'm thinking about him, about how much it hurts being pushed away by him again and again and again." She feels his body sink against hers and knows that with each word she's cutting into him but can't stop now. "I'm crying when I feel him approach. I don't have to see him to know it's him. I love him. I know him so well, the sound of his steps, his scent, the feel of his skin, even the taste of the air he breathes. I know this because it's all he lets me know, it's what I have to rely on because it's all he'll ever give me."

"Jesus, Lindsay!"

Not wanting his interruption she quickly speaks again. "I'm glad he's come to me but at the same time I'm terrified. I'm hurting and I need him to know that. I need him to understand what he's doing to me. I've tried to tell him, I have told him... over and over, but... either it goes unheard or he just doesn't care. I'm starting to believe that... maybe, he just doesn't care."

Bobby pushes up again now. Still trapped by his arm, he doesn't have much room for manoeuvring, but moves so he's over her completely. He seeks her eyes but she moves her head so her face is buried. With her face concealed from his gaze, Bobby perches on all fours over her, he rests his forehead on the mattress beside her head, his lips caress her ear as he pleads "I do care! How can you think...?"

She turns her head to the other side. "He lays beside me. His soft warm lips begin to touch me and my body starts to hum. My body knows him. It's the only way he lets me in and I respond to him by instinct, cursing myself as I do, my body betrays me whenever he's near... he controls me this way, he knows sooner or later I'll stop thinking and give in to sensation, and then... and then another day's gone by when he doesn't have to talk to me."

Bobby's body moves as he chases her face again but she turns, refusing to see him. "Lindsay, I don't! I swear to God, I don't!" he declares.

"I crave his touch, like an addict, when the fix is in sight, I forget everything but the promise of pleasure. I forget that when the pleasure fades, the pain returns. I forget that this same person who I willingly give myself to is the one breaking my heart day after day." She feels the fight leave him as he lowers himself over her, then lays by her side. She waits for his free hand to make contact with her, but it doesn't. Tears fall as she speaks again, "I need to tell him this, I need for him to know how I feel, but I can't. I'm afraid of him."

"What? You're afraid of me? No... Lindsay, why?"

"Because, I don't want to hurt him, I don't want to see pain in his eyes.... and, more than that, I'm afraid I won't see any."

Bobby's hand returns now, failing again to turn her face, he grips her side and pulls his body tighter against hers, his face buries into her neck as he insistently says, "There is pain, Lindsay! I promise you, this hurts."

Unbidden, the desire to say, 'good,' comes forth, but Lindsay squelches it. Hurting him was never the purpose of this, it isn't what she wants, it's merely a necessary evil. All she wants is for him to understand what he's doing to her and to achieve that, she needs to be totally honest, consequences be damned. Finding courage in the fact that he's still there, he's hurting but is willing to listen, she continues. Stunned, Bobby merely listens.

"He lowers his body to mine. It feels wonderful with him above me, touching me, in moments like this I find it hard to believe that our connection can ever be broken. Even if I wanted too, I couldn't turn him away because I need him. I wish I could turn him away though, because, then he'd know what it feels like to be rejected by the one you love. He doesn't see me hurting. He only listens to my body crying out to him. That's all he wants to hear. His knee slides between my legs and I open myself to him. I'll take him in, I'll take whatever he's offering, because... because I love him. I want him, all of him, anything he offers, I'll take it hungrily.

"His hands slide under my body, I squirm, reacting to his touch, my breathing is coming in short sharp pants, I need him, desperately, and tell him so. He raises my hips and enters me, I cry out when he does and he mistakes my sob for joy when what's really caused it is sorrow. I close my eyes and try and allow the sensations to comfort me. He feels wonderful moving within me, but instead of being soothed, I feel emboldened. His power is filling me and I take it greedily, my walls begin breaking down as I stop hiding behind them. Not having to face him, not having to look into those eyes, I find the courage to speak. This is my dream lover, he'll listen, he loves me, he'll understand, I won't lose him.

"As his body imbeds itself in mine again and again, my words rush out in a torrent. I tell him I'm tired of living on the shelf he's placed me on. It's lonely up here on my own. I never expected to feel so alone, to be left merely watching him go about his life, doling me the occasional morsel when it suits him. I want to climb down from this perch and live with him. I want to share every part of his life with him and not just what he decides to give.

"I hate it up here, I hate that I've allowed him to keep me here and that I'm not brave enough to object. It's killing me inside. I'm trapped but I'm too afraid to push against my boundaries for fear the wrong push will bring it all crumbling down around me. I'm terrified if I rebel I'll find myself permanently alone... without any hope. I stay because I don't want to lose him... I'm too afraid of losing what little he gives, to insist on more, on what I need.

"I know he's listening, I can feel it in his body but he's so quiet. His silence scares me, he's always kept himself from me and he's still doing it, he's become so still, if it wasn't for the fact that I can feel him in me, I wouldn't know he was there. He is there though, he's holding me, he's still surrounding me, so I take what comfort I can in that. My tears flow freely, I can't see him, my strength is in the fact that he remains unseen while my own mask is being removed. I need him to see me and I know I'll only hide again if I see him. I can't hide anymore. He needs to know my pain, he needs to know that he's causing it and he needs to know that I love him still... He needs to know what I want..."

"What is it you want?" Bobby asks, his voice choked with emotion.

"I want to live with him, I want to be more than the plaything he turns to when it suits him. I want him to brush away the layers of dust settling over me and see what's underneath. I'm his wife! I'm supposed to be his partner in life, not just in bed. I want to be needed by him. I don't want to live the rest of my life on my own. I don't know how much longer I can live 'our life' alone. I tell him that it's tearing me apart and beg him to believe me this time. Believe me... when I say, I don't know how much longer I can live like this. It hurts, every time he comes to me, it hurts because it isn't real, it doesn't last. I don't want to be his whim. I want to be more to him than that. I need more than that. I want to be his wife."

Bobby raises his head, "Lindsay..."

"I feel him in me, still, in my heart, not just my body and know that if he pulls away this time, I won't survive. I've opened myself to him more than ever before, I've torn myself apart for him and the only way the wound can heal is for him to seal it for me. I can't be whole alone. I tell him that I need him, I beg him not to leave me and yet I feel him withdraw, I feel him leave me. My body becomes liquid, it's salt water, I'm tears, that's all I am now. I feel the ocean lapping at me, calling me to join it and know like will become like and I'll be washed out to sea.

"I fear for him, left with just the sand, alone for life and wonder if he'll hurt at all or will he just pick himself up, brush himself off and walk away? Will he even look back at the sea? Will he ever think of me?"

Lindsay pauses as Bobby's cheek comes to rest on her shoulder; she feels the shaking of his body, registers the moist skin pressed against hers, and wonders, can those be tears? She listens and realises that, yes, Bobby is hearing her. She feels a glimmer of hope. A hope she'd been refusing to allow.

"I'm open, I'm raw and I'm terrified. He withdraws from me and I silently cry. I think he... but then his hands touch me, he clutches at my shoulders and turns me to face him. All my bravery, whatever had possessed me to speak so freely is gone now, the moment I felt him leave me, it went too. He's my strength and my weakness. Although my body turns when he bids it to, I can't look at him. I don't want to see my world end. I don't look, I can't. His fingers... his palm is so soft against my cheek, I nuzzle against it. I have no will. When it comes to saying goodbye to him, I give in, every time. I just can't do it, I want to, but I can't. I need to walk away but instead I always return. I lap up every morsel he offers in case, soon, it will be all I have to live on, all I have to remember him by.

"His body settles against mine, then he turns us so we are on our sides, his hand skims down along my body, it reaches my knee and lifts me, draping my leg over him, he's right there, poised to enter me again. Although he's hurt me before, I know he'd never be that cruel, he wouldn't do this now if he didn't mean to stay. Surely he wouldn't make this promise if he didn't intend to keep it. His hand moves back to my face, his thumb brushes away my tears, then his lips meet mine before they disappear again. I feel my eyes opening, I have to look now, I can't help it, I need to know.

"He's looking at me, in his eyes I see what I feared, I see pain and regret but I see more than just that. I see love too. I see understanding. I see compassion and I see a desire to make things right. I wait... I don't know what he has planned; this is his turn to tell me what he wants. He looks at me, looks for so long that I begin to feel afraid, then he whispers, 'together!' God, I want to believe him.

"I want to look into his eyes and see that this is his promise, but I'm so... I'm so afraid. He says it again as he moves closer to me, I feel hope enter me as he does and we move together. With each stroke he tells me we can do this, we'll survive, we love each other too much not to make it work. 'Together,' he tells me with his voice, with his body, 'together,' and I do believe."

"Lindsay, please, look at me," Bobby says.

Lindsay lets go of Bobby's hand, allowing him to turn her this time. He settles his body beside her, his hand cups her cheek, his thumb brushes away her tears but still her eyes don't open.

"Please, look at me!" he begs, his voice letting her know how much he needs this.

With a deep breath, she does, hoping to see the promise of her dreams, hoping to see that her honesty hasn't torn them apart but that isn't what she sees. She looks at him through the hazy pool of her tears, the similar clouds covering his eyes make them unreadable. Her breath hitches as she pleads, "Bobby?"

Talk to me, tell me it's okay, tell me you'll never leave, you love me, you need me, we can survive this, is all encompassed in her cry of his name.

But Bobby can't say any of those words to her; he can't say anything but a breathy, 'Lindsay,' before his mouth descends on hers.

Lips and tongues, teeth and breaths tell of understanding, of need, of love, stronger than any voice could. They exchange salty desperate kisses as they beg not to be left, not to be deserted, not to be given up on. Their needs and fears feverishly propel them to consume, to unify, and to claim each other. Breath becomes necessary when lungs scream in pain and heads become dizzy. Their mouths separate but their bodies cling to each other as calming sobs replace passion. They hold on, hopeful in the belief that the other isn't going to run. Hands soothe bodies as eyes slowly clear and refuse to look away.

When Lindsay sees the pain reflected in Bobby's eyes, the fight leaves her. This is what she'd been so afraid of and she wonders, has she caused a pain that's beyond repair? Wiping the moisture from Bobby's cheeks, she pleads, "I'm sorry... I had to tell you, Bobby. I'm sorry."

He sighs and rests his forehead against hers. "Lindsay, don't apologize. I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"I know," she replies matter-of-factly.

When Bobby pulls away, his surprised eyes meet hers. Unable to face him, Lindsay's eyes drop from his gaze. That comment came out harsher than she had meant it to but the sentiment is correct; Bobby has been hurting her for a long time now, despite her constant pleas that he stop.

"Lindsay, please look at me." Although her response isn't immediate, when she does look up, Bobby says, "Lindsay, I am sorry." She hears the sincerity in his voice and merely gives a little nod before looking away again.

Lindsay knows that Bobby is waiting expectantly but she feels unable to react. Tonight, the word 'sorry' sounds hollow. She needs more. She climbs out of the bed then looks at Bobby, sees him waiting for acknowledgement, for acceptance and forgiveness, but she can't give it. Her head slowly shakes before words start to come out.

"It just isn't enough anymore, Bobby. I've heard 'sorry' from you before, many times, but nothing ever changes. I can't keep forgiving you, when I know that you're just going to keep doing it."

"I won't!"

"I... I don't... Bobby, I... I don't believe that." She looks down as she sighs, "You're never going to let me in."

Lindsay hears Bobby climb out of the bed too. She knows he's getting angry now and is surprised at how calm she feels as her world falls apart. She wonders, when did she become so resigned to failure? When did the fantasy of their happily-ever-after become unattainable in her mind?

"I have let you in!" Bobby declares, "I've told you things I've never told anyone else, how can you say I'll never let you in?"

"Because you never talk to me voluntarily," she says looking into his indignant eyes.

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"It's true. Bobby I always have to ask! I see you hurting. I let you push me away, over and over, until eventually I snap and make you talk to me. Bobby, you've never told me anything I haven't first had to ask for. I want you to open up to me because it is what you want and not because I've made you. I want you to believe in me, to trust me to listen to and understand you. I want you to want me to know..."

"I do want you to know."

"You don't or you'd tell me! I can't keep having to ask. It's exhausting... One day you'll push me away and... and I just won't come back again. One day, I'll get too tired to even try."

"Is that today?" Bobby asks, his voice failing, not quite able to finish the thought.

Looking at the fear in his eyes, Lindsay wants to assure him that it isn't but knows that she can't. She can't promise him something that may not be true. "I honestly don't know," she sighs, "I'm tired, Bobby, I'm so tired."

Bobby pauses for a moment, appears about to speak but then turns and walks out of the room. Lindsay gasps as he goes, wants to scream out at him to come back but, instead, sinks against the wall. She didn't plan for any of this to happen and is feeling a little shell-shocked that it all came out. She surprised herself with the depth of her despair. Once she stopped denying it existed, the snowball of emotion unknowingly created an avalanche. It didn't surprise her that Bobby ran from the room, she knows he never saw this coming. Even with the knowledge of how she felt, she still hadn't been able to foresee this outburst.

After a few moments of introspection, Lindsay rises with the intention of seeking out Bobby. She can't give him the unconditional absolution he wants but she isn't willing to give up on them yet either. They've come to a crossroads, and if they are going to move in the right direction, they need to take the next step together. She'd come to a decision after watching him walk away from her. As tired as Lindsay may be, she's also unwilling to give up on them without a fight. She knows what it's like to grow up in a broken home and needs to be able to tell her son that she tried everything to give him the home he deserved.

Following the sound of running water, Lindsay finds Bobby in the kitchen. His back is to her as he leans over the sink, presumably to fill the glass he's holding with water. The glass, though, has long since been filled and is now overflowing. Bobby, who is staring out the window, appears unaware of the water cascading over his hand. Pausing in the doorway, Lindsay calls his name breaking him out of his reverie. He stands, shuts off the tap and places the glass on the bench as he self-consciously looks for something to dry his hands with. Unsuccessful, he gives it a quick shake then runs it through his hair. Lindsay watches him sigh before turning to face her. His eyes are cold when he looks at her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat she steps forward pleading, "Bobby?"

"Don't!" he says quickly, raising his hand to ward her off. "Don't say a word!"

Lindsay's eyes close and her chin drops to her chest. She'd hoped to work this out, she now fears the time for reconciliation has passed and she's already lost her husband. This time she doesn't even bother to attempt to suppress her tears. She can't hide from him anymore, not even to keep him.

"Lindsay?" she hears in a tone far softer than his earlier command.

Lifting her eyes to him she sees his outstretched hand. Grasping the symbol of acceptance with all her being, she rushes across the room and into his arms. Embracing him with all her might, she holds the life she'd feared was lost to her. Bobby's hands rub over her back as he tries to soothe her relieved sobs.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to shout... Lindsay, I'm sorry I just... I meant it was my turn to talk... I just wanted a chance to speak... before you asked me to."

Lindsay pulls back enough to tilt her neck and look up into his face. Although unable to smile at the evidence he'd heard what she had to say, she nods and acknowledges her understanding, while watching and waiting for him to say what he wants to say. Bobby lets out a deep breath and Lindsay can't help feeling a tad amused by the emotions evident on his face. It's obvious he has the desire to talk, but is terrified of doing so and confused over how to actually start. His face says so much, if only she could convince his voice to be as articulate. Lindsay looks up at him encouragingly, then suddenly gasps as she's being spun around and hoisted in the air. Now perched on the bench, she looks down at him with a quirked eyebrow, hoping her expression can ask the question that she isn't allowed to put into words.

Bobby shrugs and says, "This could take a while and if one of us has to get a crick in their neck, it should be me."

His hands rest on the bench against Lindsay's hips, his body looming into hers. She feels trapped and wonders if this is retribution for her entrapping him earlier. Is he afraid, as she had been, that the moment he starts talking she'll flee? Bobby's forehead comes to rest against hers. In a huskily low voice he whispers, "Lindsay, kiss me."

"Why?" she asks, surprising both of them.

Bobby steps away and Lindsay sees the confusion and disappointment on his face. "What do you mean, why?"

"I mean, is this a stall tactic, or are you afraid that after you've spoken I won't want to kiss you, so you want to get one in now, or..." she pauses and smiles apologetically, realizing she may be overreacting, may have allowed emotion to override reason, she softly adds, "or did you just want to kiss me?"

Bobby walks away, picks up the glass, empties it down the sink then puts it on the table as he paces the room. Turning to face her, he pauses a moment, then walking to the table, picks up the glass again and returns it to the sink. Lindsay wants to scream at him that talking to her shouldn't have to be this big a deal. He is an articulate man and conversing should come naturally to him. She wants to tell him to stop and just talk to her already but knows she has to let him do this his own way. He's asked her to let him speak, to give him her time, her patience and just listen. She appreciates his effort even if his method, so far, is infuriating.

Without warning he walks to her, frames her face with his hands and kisses her long and hard. Lindsay doesn't resist, she takes the opportunity to savor his mouth, to explore, tease and own the man she adores. When Bobby pulls out of the kiss, he rests his head against Lindsay's shoulder, as he softly admits, "Probably a bit of all three."

Unintentionally, Lindsay sighs as her chin drops to her chest.

Bobby pulls back and looks at her, then his eyes close as he returns her sigh, "I'm making a mess of this, aren't I?"

Lindsay looks up and smiles, taking his hand she teases, "You generally have to start something before you can make a mess of it?"

Bobby chuckles a little, before shaking his head and pacing some more, struggling to find the words.

"Try my name," Lindsay suggests.

"What?"

"As a starter, just say Lindsay... and see what follows from there."

Deciding he can live with that, he nods, then takes a few steps towards her. "Lindsay,... you were right earlier..." Bobby relaxes a little when he sees Lindsay smile, taking another step so he's leaning against her, he rubs her arm as he says, "You liked that?"

"Any conversation that starts with, 'Lindsay, you were right,' has got to be a good one."

"Maybe..." Bobby smiles, "But what I was saying was, you were right but you were also wrong. I'll admit I may wait for you to ask..." He stops and shakes his head. "No, wait isn't right. I don't wait for it, it's just that generally I'm not ready to talk but, ready or not, I do when you ask."

Lindsay nods, agreeing that, if she's insistent, he does relent.

"But, Lindsay, the idea that I don't want to talk to you, you are wrong there. The reason I'm hesitant has nothing to do with not wanting to. Honestly, Lindsay, it isn't that."

"Then what?"

He steps away and resumes his pacing. Lindsay can see how hard each word is to say but can't understand why.

"I guess it's that... I don't know what to say. Half the time, I'm not sure how I feel, or understand it if I do know... so it isn't that I don't want to tell you, it's just, I haven't worked out what there is to tell. I'm just trying to get it straight in my head first."

"So you wait until you've composed your closing argument before you open your case?"

Bobby pauses as he considers her analogy before conceding with a tentative, "I guess."

"Can I ask you something?"

He nods for her to go ahead.

"Okay hypothetically, say I asked you to second chair a case with me, you agreed, but when you asked for details I fobbed you off with a 'not now.' You let it go, then the next day you discovered that the trial was starting but you still knew nothing about what was going on. Again, you asked for details, and again, I tell you 'never mind, it isn't important right now.' The trial proceeds; you see and hear things that you know have relevance to the case, but when you try and tell me, I won't listen, I just tell you not to worry because I have it all under control. But you know it isn't under control, looking at it from a different perspective you see things I've missed and you know that the case is unraveling and it's all about to blow up in my face. You keep trying to tell me but I won't listen. So there I am, my star witness being cross-examined, I'm so confident I'm barely paying attention, practicing my closing in my head and totally unprepared for the line of questioning that, at the last minute, will destroy my whole case. You knew all along it was going to happen but were unable to do a thing to stop it because I pushed you away at every attempt. You had to sit back and watch me dig myself in, deeper and deeper, and were left wondering why I'd even want you by my side when your opinion doesn't matter to me..."

"Is there a question in this?"

"How do you think that would feel, to be a part of a team where your partner relegates you to the sidelines; no input required? You know you couldn't work like that, Bobby, why do you do it in life?"

"First off, Lindsay that's not how it is!" He walks up to her and takes her hand as he says, "Your opinion matters to me, it always has... if anything, it matters too much."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... I mean, I've seen what's in here Lindsay..." he raises their joined hands to tap his head, "I don't know if I want you to know how screwed up I am."

Lindsay smiles her most genuine smile of the night, "That's why you hold back? You're afraid I'll think less of you?"

"You do it too, everyone does."

"I know... but you, Bobby, you've made it an art form."

"I know... I'm sorry."

"Bobby you have to start giving me the raw materials, together we can make sense of it, we can write that closing together."

"Are you sure you're ready for that... and all it entails?"

"Yes! Bobby, if you think I don't already know you're screwed and love you for it, you are seriously underestimating me."

He smiles and in an effort to lighten the mood teases, "You love me because I'm screwed."

"In a way, I certainly don't think you're perfect... and I wouldn't want you to be, you're human, Bobby, humans are flawed... that's what makes us interesting, beautiful, we wouldn't be who we are without our quirks."

Bobby silently watches her. Lindsay can tell he's mulling over what she said and waits for him to expound on his thoughts. "Lindsay, I don't know what you want from me. I mean, I know you want me to talk more but the things you've said tonight, it's more than just talking. I can't even tell if you're angry at me or not. You say you love me, but at the same time I'm hearing you say you want to walk away. Don't, please don't. I love you, we can work this out, just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it, I'll change."

"Bobby, it isn't that I'm trying to change you, I realize now you're an isolated person, it's who you are and... I don't think you can change. I just need you to know I can't live like this. I can't live permanently on the outside. I love you, I really do, I'll never stop... Bobby, I'll always love you but love isn't enough. This isn't healthy for me and... I can't just keep letting you hurt me."

"I'll stop, I promise."

"I don't know if you can, I know deep down you don't mean to hurt me but you do. You don't... you don't ever think of me. Bobby, we went from rushing around organizing a wedding straight into expecting a baby. I realize now that we never had the time to learn how to be husband and wife. Had we done that... Bobby, I think you would have learnt, you aren't ready."

"I am!"

"You aren't! As much as you may think you want it, you don't. Your actions prove that to me day after day. You can't change that, Bobby, it's who you are."

"No, it isn't, you're wrong."

"What's wrong was me letting myself believe I didn't need more. I do! I need more than you can give, I know that now. And I can't just keep blaming you for this mess, I'm as much to blame because I let this go on too long and it's me who needs to act, to make a change. I can't keep living like this, Bobby. I hate the alternative, you've got to know that, but... I don't believe in us anymore and... and I'm afraid to stay."
"Afraid?"

"Afraid our son will grow up feeling invisible, feeling like he has to jump through hoops just to get your attention. Being invisible isn't all it's cut out to be, Bobby, it's lonely. I don't want him to feel insignificant, unloved, I don't want him to live, day by day, wondering every moment if this will be one of the times you see him."

"Is... is that how you feel?" Bobby asks, stunned at what he's hearing.

"Yes, and I don't want that for him. It hurts..."

Trying to make sense of what's happening, he asks, "All because I don't talk to you?"

"No, because you don't need me."

"Lindsay, I do need you, I'm sorry you don't know that."

Lindsay doesn't respond, she merely shakes her head and allows her eyes to drop from his.

"Lindsay, I give you my word..."

"All I ever get is your word, but, Bobby, every time you say 'sorry,' you give me your word that it won't happen again, I don't believe your word anymore... I'm sorry, I just can't. You've let me down too many times and it hurts too much to go through this again, I don't believe... I...."

Afraid of what it is that she's saying, Lindsay, overcome, pushes herself of the bench and walks out of the kitchen. Entering her son's room, she lifts the sleeping baby out of his cot and holds him to her as she sits in the chair. She's terrified that she may have just made the decision to leave her marriage, she's frightened, too, that Bobby will just let her go. She doesn't know where that last outburst came from. One minute they were tentatively getting along and the next she's telling him it's over. How did that happen? Never having been a quitter, she once believed it would be impossible to give up on some one she loves but now she realises the truth; to stay she has to give up on herself and she can't live like that.

Maybe it will be better if they're apart, she believes in her heart that Bobby loves her. She wants to believe that so badly that she always drowns out the voices that tell her it isn't so. She has no doubt that he loves his son but he's incapable of showing it day to day. Maybe it's better if they're apart, maybe as an occasional father he can syphon all his energy into those few days. She knows he can act the part, she knows he can give in to the distraction of family life when he wants to, but an act cannot be sustained and she doesn't want her child suffering the confusion of being loved one minute and invisible the next. She doesn't want him to feel washed out with the tide, alone and desperately waiting to be called back to shore when Bobby's again ready to offer love. Love should be constant, not a whim, not an ebb and flow. Maybe it's better if they're apart. Maybe then his absence won't be so keenly felt.

When a shadow crosses the doorway, Lindsay looks up hesitantly. Bobby's standing there, leaning against the frame, looking into the room but not quite at her. Lindsay is relieved he's come to her and knows they need to talk about this, need to make arrangements about where they go from here, but, now, while their son's sleeping, isn't a good situation for an emotional discussion. Needing the comfort she's deriving from her slumbering child, she doesn't want to put the baby down and go with Bobby to continue this elsewhere. She needs to feel loved, wanted, needed; she feels it with her son and aches for it with her husband. She fears the decision she's made, as much as she's starting to believe in it, taking steps to make it happen may be more than she can do.

Silently, Bobby walks into the room, he lowers himself to the floor opposite where she sits, leaning back against the wall, his arms resting on his raised knees, his eyes focus on the baby. After an uncomfortable moment, he quietly says, "There's nothing in my life more important than the two of you." His eyes rise to hers, "I'm sorry you don't know that but I promise you, he'll always know it, I won't hurt him too."

Lindsay looks down at the serene face of their child and nods. For the sake of their son she's willing to believe him, willing to hope in their future.

"You've been beside me for so long now, Lindsay, it's hard for me to remember a time when you weren't essential to me, when you weren't there for me... first as a colleague, then a friend, then..." his head shakes a little as he struggles for a word that adequately describes what she is to him now, giving up he continues without, "If I'm guilty of anything, Lindsay, it's of taking it for granted you'll always be here and not working hard enough to ensure it's so... I can't lose you, Lindsay. I can't. I don't want you to go, to... to leave. There's nothing I won't do to make this work. Please, don't give up on me yet. I know you don't believe me, but I'll do anything, if you'll just stay. I can change, just give me time to prove it to you, Lindsay, because I can do it. I will do it."

A tear slowly slides down Lindsay's cheek and, watching it, Bobby feels his own build ever closer to release the longer he waits for her answer. When he sees her begin to shake her head, he leans forward, "Please!" he begs more emphatically, "All I'm asking for is a chance."

"It isn't that."

"What then?"

"I feel like I'm blackmailing you into a relationship, I don't want you doing anything just to make me stay, Bobby I... tonight wasn't an ultimatum..."

"I know that." He rises and walks over to her, kneeling beside her chair he says, "What I need you to know is that I do want to be in this relationship, I'm willing to work at it, all I'm asking is that you meet me halfway. I just want a chance to make you as happy as you've always made me. Please give me a chance to do it right this time, to show you how I really feel, how much I need you, how much I love you."

"I don't want to leave," she whispers, drawing the baby closer to her.

Bobby's hand rises to wipe her tears away, "Then don't, please don't."

Lindsay sighs, "I can't be hurt again." She looks at Bobby, her eyes showing him how adamant she is on this point.

"You'll stay?" Bobby asks, barely above a whisper.

Seeing the uncontroverted longing in his eyes, Lindsay allows herself to believe in the possibility they can make this work. Closing her eyes she accepts the relief that rises inside her, embraces the joy fighting to be let out as the belief that he wants her slowly returns. She clings to this belief like it's a lifeline. Knows him well enough to know that when his heart's set on something, he's relentless and yearns to truly believe that his heart is set on her. He is so much a part of her life she can't imagine existing without him. For her child she would do it, but... if they could be together, if she could just stay, if they could work this out... She doesn't always believe his words but knows that there's only ever truth in his eyes. Opening hers again, she looks at him, searches deep inside and sees what she needs, knowing it's only the first step in a difficult journey, she doesn't celebrate prematurely; they have a long way to go before her confidence in them will be restored, but with perseverance she believes they can succeed. Her eyes close again as she allows this grain of hope time to grow, allows her emotions to swirl and settle, allows herself to breathe.

Feeling the baby being moved from her grasp, Lindsay's eyes reopen and she watches Bobby place their son into his cot. His back is to her now and she watches attentively as his fingers linger over the baby's features before he lowers his face to kiss his cheek. She nods, reading his love and intent in every gesture, knows he'll do everything in his power not to hurt their boy.

Turning back to Lindsay, Bobby holds his hand out to her and softly says, "It's late, tomorrow we'll talk more but, right now, I need to hold you."

Lindsay nods softly. Raising her hand to him, she allows Bobby to help her rise from the chair. Once she is standing, her hands rise to his chest and her cheek rests against his heart, taking comfort in the sound that many a night has lulled her to sleep. "Bobby, I just need you to open up to me, I promise when you talk I'll always listen, I'll try to understand and..." her voice lowers as she says, "I won't judge you."

Her final words, and the reticence she uses to speak them, trigger a memory for Bobby. Stepping back to look closer at her, he says, "Lindsay, you've accused me of judging you before, I still deny that I do, but... if that's how you feel, it's irrelevant whether it's true or not, because it's how you feel..." he sighs realizing he's getting sidetracked, taking a deep breath he tries again, "Lindsay, do you believe the reason I don't confide in you is because I've judged you, and decided... you're not... I don't know... not worthy?" When she merely looks away instead of answering, he starts to shake his head, "You do, don't you? Lindsay, no!"

His vehement denial is louder than intended, and the baby makes a mewling noise as he half wakes, before drifting off again. Taking her hand, Bobby leads her out of the room and into their bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at her. Finally, all the pieces of the puzzle are fitting together and he can see what she's been going through and how much pain she's been dealing with, day after day. "Why did you stay?" he asks, amazed at what she's withstood to be with him. Horrified at what he's, unwittingly, put her through.

"Because I love you." She sighs and drops her hand from his. "Bobby, I know you care for me, you want me to stay but... I also know you don't need me..."

"You're wrong!" Looking at her he can see nothing but disbelief in her eyes. "Lindsay, I need you! Every day I draw my strength from you, I turn to you..." Seeing her shake her head and begin walking away, he grabs her hand again, keeping her in front of him. "I do! When I'm struggling, I think of things you've said, things you've done that remind me of who I am and why I'm doing this, they remind me who I want to be and keep me focussed, and... I need you, Lindsay. It isn't just a matter of wanting you to stay. Yes, I want you, I don't deny that, and I more than care for you, I love you, but above all that, Lindsay, I need you." Bobby draws her near enough so that he can wrap his arms around her waist; holding her to him in body, hoping she'll return in spirit. Burying his head against her, he pleads, "You have to believe me."

Lindsay's hands find their way into his hair. She smoothes through it as she considers his words. Although the content of his declaration is what she's longed to hear, it's the tone in which it was spoken that's washes over her now and clears doubt away. His voice, his body language, his undisguised emotions exert a gravitational pull too hard to resist and she feels herself swirling in their wake. Leaning down to drop a soft kiss to the back of his head, she whispers, "I believe you."

Bobby, still holding her tight, tilts his head up to look at her, his eyes are alight with hope as he asks, "You... you do?"

When she softly nods, he smiles broadly and, standing, wraps his body around her, "It will be okay, you'll see," he promises, as he holds her tight, "It will be okay." She offers no resistance or denial, holds him just as tight as he's holding her and lets his confidence infuse her. Feeling how heavily she's leaning against him, Bobby considers how emotionally energy draining tonight has been for both of them. Pulling back, he frames her face in his hands and tilts it up to his, seeing the fatigue in her eyes, he knows it's a wonder she's still standing, "You're exhausted, come on, lets go to bed."

Lindsay nods and breaks from his embrace to walk to the bathroom. As much as she's beginning to believe him, she's glad to get away from the conversation before he says any more. Bobby only ever opens up when backed into a corner, she knows that at the risk of losing her, he'll say or do anything. She's afraid he'll do too much, leaving her unable to trust what she hears tonight, as she'll be wondering is it what he really feels or just a desperate attempt to appease her? Will she be hearing his heart or his head? Lindsay doesn't want a knee jerk reaction to her outpouring of emotion and she doesn't want flowery speeches, she just wants to know who he is. She believes she's seen him now and doesn't want that fragile image chased away by uncharacteristic words. She wants to hold off further discussions until their heads are clearer and it isn't fear leading the way.

When Lindsay exits again Bobby is sitting head in hands on the edge of the bed. She knows he's hurting and hates seeing him this way, she would love nothing more than to go to him, absolve him of all wrong, comfort him and assure him that all will be well, but honestly, tonight, she hasn't the will or the energy to do so. Climbing into bed, she merely says, "C'mon Bobby, you need sleep."

Looking over his shoulder at her, he smiles, then rises to go to the bathroom himself. Although Lindsay had suspected that the moment she lay her head on the pillow she'd be asleep, she finds herself too restless. Too much has happened tonight for her to be able to relax. Watching Bobby as he exits the bathroom, she fears he'll have the same problem. After climbing into bed, he kisses her cheek goodnight, then switches off the lamp. They lay there, not touching, still and silent, each trying hard not to disturb the other.

Lindsay can feel the tension in Bobby as he lays behind her and wonders if this is how it's going to be now; each of them walking on eggshells, afraid of the other. She feels an urge to apologize, a desire to do something, anything, just to break the tension between them, but what? Determined to put an end to it, she begins to turn just as Bobby moves closer and reaches out to her, in the space of seconds they go from opposite sides of the bed to nose to nose.

"Hi," Bobby says and Lindsay smiles shyly at him. "So, Lindsay, I was thinking..." his hand plays along her arm as he talks, "this beach, you described the waves, the gulls, the sand in detail, but... but you never explained how I got inside your clothes, where you on a nudist beach, Lindsay?"

Looking at the grin on his face, Lindsay can't help but laugh. This was what she'd needed to feel normal again, to relax around him, to feel comfortable and free. Progress was never going to be made with each of them too tentative to take a step. Resting her forehead against his, she whispers, "Thank you," knowing he'll understand why.

Bobby pulls her body closer, and rolls onto his back, so she's draped along his side.

As her hand runs over his chest, she asks, "So that's what you were thinking, lying there so quietly?"

"Lindsay, most times when I'm quiet it's because I'm thinking about how to get under your clothes."

Smiling, Lindsay moves up and kisses him softly. She pulls away and they look at one another, before slowly reaching for each other again. This next kiss has more purpose, though neither pushes too hard, as it's more a testing of each other's complicity. They separate on a sigh and Lindsay lays her head against his chest, joining his hand with hers, she raises it to her lips before resting them in front of her face. She stares as the tangle of fingers, knows her life is forever entwined with his, there could never be a clean break, they belong together, they fit, they just need to learn how to coexist. She feels his other hand gliding across her back and lets it seduce her, lull her, into total and utter contentment.

"From start to finish, Linds, today was one crappy day," Bobby says, quietly, "but this is nice," he quickly amends.

Lindsay hums a reply, amused by his backtracking and curious whether he'll say more.

"I should have known it would be a day from hell, when I burnt my tongue on my coffee this morning, and you were in the shower, so you couldn't kiss it better." When he feels Lindsay shake against him, he grumbles, "You better not be laughing at me?"

"I'm not!" she promises, unconvincingly.

"Then your son decides to drop a bomb in his diaper while his mother is showering, leaving me with no alternative but to act... and Linds, can I just say, I'm starting to worry about what we're feeding that kid, is it supposed to smell that bad? Let's just say, from that exchange, Little Bobby came out the winner and I needed a new shirt and tie."

Lindsay raises her head and Bobby shrugs, feigning embarrassment. Raising up on her elbow, she watches, intrigued, as he continues his woeful tale.

"I spend all morning hammering out a deal with Jackson, we cut it down to 5 years, which I'm more than pleased with, because I know that a more experienced DA wouldn't have been so conceding, only to have Morris tell me he's decided he doesn't want to take a plea anymore apparently now he wants to go to trial."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, he's decided he's got personality and no jury will convict him."

"Bobby?" Lindsay utters, incredulously.

"His words not mine," he says shaking his head in distaste, "so then I go back to Jackson, let him know the deals off and we'll be going ahead with the trial. He accuses me of just jerking his chain, trying to get him to relent more, starts raving about the reputation I have and that he should have expected this sort of underhanded behaviour. So now he's pissed and says if we come asking for a deal tomorrow it will be back to his original offer of ten years, only this time he's making it without parole."

Bobby pauses as he looks into Lindsay's sympathetic eyes, knows that he could probably go on forever about his day but decides instead to cut to the chase. "As bad as my morning was, my afternoon wasn't any better. I swear, Lindsay, I'd never been so glad to leave the office before. Driving home I had these visions going through my head... you know, arriving home to the perfect house and the perfect wife and the perfect child, where everything's wonderful and the cares of the day just melt away, but the reality is, the baby's screaming, you give up trying to feed him when you see me, you tell me to put some gel on his gums and try and get him to sleep while you finish making dinner. I do as I'm told, my son bites me for my efforts..." Bobby holds up his finger, and pouts, until Lindsay leans in and kisses it better, "...then to add insult to injury, I walk into the kitchen to find you've made paella for dinner."

"It's your favorite!" Lindsay says, defensively.

Bobby winces, "Lindsay, I have a confession to make, I hate it."

Lindsay takes a deep breath in surprise, then asks, "Since when?"

"Since always."

"But, Bobby..." she says in disbelief.

"I know, I know and it's totally my fault, that's why I never said anything."

The look on his face is so despondent, Lindsay can't help but smile. She soothes the worry lines around his temples as she waits for him to explain.

"So, I suppose you want the full story?"

She smiles again, letting him know that she does.

"Do you remember Isakov?" To her quirked eyebrow, he mutters, "Of course you remember Isakov, who could forget. Well, Helen and I..." he pauses and looks at her, "You sure you want to hear this?"

Lindsay nods, then realizing this could take a while and that her elbow may give out if she stays the way she is, Lindsay lays down onto her side facing him. Bobby rolls so they share the pillow, his hand resting on her hip, his thumb caressing her there as he talks.

"She'd said she wasn't ready to give up on us but that she wasn't able to face me yet either. After the verdict she'd asked me to give her some time, some space and... it wasn't like I had a right to..." he sighs and starts again, "Anyway, just over two weeks had passed and we hadn't spoken, I was beginning to think that we wouldn't get past this when she called and invited me over for dinner."

Lindsay smiles a little sadly, sensing where this is going and remembering the pain she'd seen in his eyes throughout that ordeal.

"I wasn't sure if she'd invited me over to end it or what... to be honest it was what I was expecting, and so when she said she was ready to start taking things slow, I was a little stunned. She said we'd start with a nice home-cooked meal which she then served up, so I ate it, grudgingly. I didn't like it but I didn't think it would have been good form to take one bite and then suggest we order pizza."

"So you told her you loved it?"

"I don't know if I ever used the word love... I took a second helping when she offered it though."

"Oh, Bobby!"

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"Helen always made it when she knew you were staying over."

"Why do you think I was so keen to have you move out of there?"

Lindsay laughs and snuggles in closer to him, "Bobby, you could have told me."

"That first time at your place, the two of you sat there with enormous smiles watching me eat, what was I going to say?"

"Okay, maybe not then, but God, Bobby, it's been two years since we started living together and you're just telling me this now?"

"Yeah, but you haven't made it for us that often, besides, yours is better than Helen's."

Lindsay smiles and Bobby can see that she's dying to say something, "What?"

"I remember that first time... by the end of the meal, I was so sick of hearing Helen say it was your favorite..."

"You and me both," he interrupts, wrapping his arms around her, he holds her close, then pulling back a little, his hand raises to caress her cheek, "Have lunch with me tomorrow."

"You're in court."

"Work with me here, Linds," he sighs. She looks at him questioningly and he explains, "It's habit, that's all it is. We fall into routines and soon we start to forget to make time for each other... I want to start making time, outside of work, outside of home, for the two of us to be just us... and I want to start now. The only space I'll have during the day tomorrow is when we break for lunch, so, Lindsay, have lunch with me, please?"

"Okay."

With relief Bobby leans in and kisses her, holding her to him, he again rolls them so he's on his back and she's draped along his side.

"I'll bring paella," Lindsay teases, as her hand plays over his skin.

"I'll eat it," Bobby promises, chuckling.

Lindsay rises over him and looking at him seriously says, "I have a confession to make too."

"What?"

"Bobby, it's her grandmothers recipe, you know how she gets with anything to do with her grandmother."

"You don't like it either?"

Lindsay screws up her face and shakes her head, "Not really, I wouldn't go so far as to say I hated it but... to say I immensely dislike it would be a fair assessment."

"But you make it for me anyway?"

"Well, I'd been led to believe it was your favorite, of course I made it for you anyway."

Framing her face with his hands, he quietly says, "How could you not believe I love you?"

"Bobby?" she replies, exasperated. She really doesn't want to get into this again, now.

"No, Lindsay, no one... no one could ever be as right for me as you are, I know that. You're too good to me... I know that too, and I promise you, you won't have cause to doubt me again. You're it for me... you're everything I need, everything I'll ever want."

Lindsay allows her body to relax over him as their mouths join in a kiss. The kiss is tender and leads to many more. As passion increases, tenderness gives way to avarice.

"You sure?" Bobby asks.

Lindsay nods, "We need this... Love me, Bobby."

"I do... I do" he promises, determined to show her how much.

That their kisses were flavored with the salt of their tears and they clung to each other with a desperation never felt before, only reinforced the belief that when working together they can achieve anything. Taking things slow, they're more intent on proving their love than seeking gratification but eventually the lustre of release is undeniable and they succumb. Through a voice choked with emotion, Lindsay hears a heartfelt, "I love you," as she drifts towards sleep. Her senses are filled by the man who had once broken her heart but who now holds the key to making it whole again.

Having succumbed to slumber, Lindsay again dreams of her beach, only this time she isn't alone. Seated on a blanket, she brushes the sand from her little boy's fingers, trying to encourage him to eat his sandwich instead. Enamoured of his chubby limbs and gap-toothed smile, she pulls him onto her lap and cuddles him tight. His giggles fill the air, before being replaced with a squeal of, "Da da!" His eyes are the color of the sea and shine with obvious delight. Lindsay follows his outstretched finger to see Bobby, still a distance away, but coming closer with each heartwarming stride. She can wait, she can be patient, as long as she knows that he's moving in her direction. Sighing contentedly, Lindsay rolls to her side and drapes her arm around Bobby's earthly body, while her subconscious watches his journey towards her.