Letting Her Go
She's been really pissed at me lately. A lot. More than usual. I guess ever since we reopened Joe's murder, she's had a lot on her mind.
And I can see why she's angry. I mean, it's my fault she's hurting like she is. I'm the one who… who forced her… to open old wounds.
I guess, once I saw her hurting, I got protective. It's ironic. Look world, you can't hurt Alex. Only I can do that.
As if she wasn't pissed enough already. She hates to be coddled, and I know it and I can't seem to stop myself. Yesterday: she was in position, she was handling it, and I stepped right in front of her and took over. God, if someone had done that to me…
This has to stop. Goddamn it Goren, you've got to sit on your fucking hands and let her go!
"One of us has to get in there, get him talking."
I nod at her. "You go."
She looks at me in surprise. "You're sure?"
A cold chill runs through me and I can feel the sweat pop out of my skin. I wipe my hands on my pants. "I'm sure." She still stands there, baffled, wondering if I'm sincere. I give her an encouraging nod and finally, she heads inside.
I ready my weapon and watch through a sliver of glass in the window that the curtain isn't covering. Expertly, Alex eases closer to the man, her words neither rushed nor intrusive. I know because I'm trying my damnedest to read her lips. He's at least as big as me, and pretty buff. I don't like the way he's got his arms tensed. She gets in close, and I can feel my heartbeat and the sweat and my muscles are twitching. I'm champing at the bit to get in there, but I hold myself back. Gotta let her go. Gotta let her do it.
And then it happens and I blink and almost miss it. I bolt to the door and through it and she's got him pinned to the floor with the cuffs on. Alex smiles at me. "Call a unit," she says. "We're taking him in."
I turn around so she can't see the relief on my face and I make the call. By the time the uniforms get there she's noticed there's something wrong with me. I feel her hand on my back.
"Bobby?"
I turn around, expecting her to interrogate me about what's wrong; why I can't look at her; why my shirt is soaked with sweat…
All she says is, "Thanks."
I clear my throat and look at my shoes. "Anytime, partner."
She gives me a gentle pat on the back and whispers, "Lunch is on me."
And I turn and follow her back to the SUV and all I can think is she's amazing. She's fucking amazing.