Prologue
The clang and bang of the jail door sounded. Robert Goren, former detective of the NYPD lay hiding his head and covering his eyes with his arms on the hard plastic bench in the cell. Gawwwd, he thought. The dark bruise on his left cheek and eye didn't help with the pain. He found it quite unfair that he was the one spending the night in jail [again] when it was Detective Erick Polson who came at him first. He was just having a drink at Elonzo's; it was Saturday evening and he had every right. Polson worked at the same precinct as Detective Copa several years ago; they remained friends. Apparently, there were some things that people could not let go.
"Hey! Robert Goren, you've been sprung," Teddy, a middle-aged deputy shouted. Goren's head shot up and he instantly regretted the sudden move. This wasn't the first time he's had to 'sleep it off' in his life (or the past year); nobody has ever bailed him out. "C'mon man! Let's go!"
Goren eased himself off the bench and lurched toward the cell door, "thanks, man," he said while passing Teddy; all the while wondering who he owed. He went down his short list of friends. Deakins, possibly, maybe Logan. He hadn't seen or spoken to either one of them in a couple weeks. Probably not. Eames...definitely not. He hadn't spoken to her in a few days. She would never let him forget how he got wasted and then proceeded to be involved in a fight which caused him to spend the night in jail. It's not my fault that Polson is a butthole, he thought. He did have some friends from the NYPD but just as soon not let them know he was drinking alone.
Goren made a small wave and nod to Clara, the receptionist before heading out the front double doors. She smiled and winked, "be good, Bobby." Clara knew she would probably see him again soon.
"Yeah," he responded, shuffling past a broad figure without notice. He just wanted to get home, take some aspirin and sleep forever. He pushed through the doors and the figure followed.