The Flip Side of the Coin
Another view of Purgatory
Detective Bobby Goren's return to work had not particularly been the joyous occasion he'd imagined after his long suspension. Things between him and his partner Alex Eames were more than strained; she barely spoke to him unless it was job related. And even then it was in clipped replies. And talk about giving him the cold shoulder—Bobby could've sworn the temperature dropped by at least ten degrees whenever she was around.
Then, of course, there was the dead rat. That, he had to admit, had him a little worried. He had no idea who or how many were behind it. Should he take it seriously? It could be nothing, an idle threat, or it could mean an actual attempt on his life. He could be the next dead rat. He'd attempted to talk to Alex about it. She'd wanted him to talk more, but now every time he tried she turned him off and ignored him. Or walked away. Or did anything to avoid talking to him. She just plain out-right wanted nothing to do with him. He wasn't even sure if she knew about the rat; she certainly hadn't mentioned it. But things like this flew around the NYPD almost as soon as they happened. She had to know.
That rat. Every time he thought about it he cringed. Something else they could all think about him now. Like they didn't already have enough fodder. The Chief really screwed him this time, royally. Screwed him left, right, and any other way there was to get screwed.
Chief of Detectives Moran had him backed into a corner. He either took this job or he was out on his ass. And Bobby wasn't about to let that happen. Being a detective was more than a job to him, it was his life. He loved it, he'd put his heart and soul into it every day of his life. And now the Chief was threatening him with a take it or leave it option. He certainly didn't want to do it, he figured at age 47 his years of dangerous undercover work were behind him. And he'd already risked his life once this year in a fruitless venture that nearly killed him, and once a year was plenty. Plus, how long would it be? Sometimes undercover took months before it all came together. He didn't want it, all he wanted was to get back to the job he loved. Even if he survived this, he'd be left with the stigma and danger of being a rat. Bobby might be back, but the Chief had still won.
He thought about Alex. God, he'd wanted to tell her. Moran put the kibosh on that, too. "A need to know basis" he'd told Ross. Well, that part might actually be true. When you're undercover, you're undercover. That means no one knows, not your family, not your friends, and not your partner. All cops know that. It's too dangerous. The more people that know, the more dangerous and life threatening it becomes. And it was already dangerous enough. But it was Alex, for God's sake…Was it worth his life to tell Alex? Is that what she'd want?
He wondered if anyone had really known or understood how scared he really was to be doing this? He'd been scared to death when Alex came up to him at that diner, for both of them. He was being watched, he knew it, Stoats had practically said so when he picked him up that day. He knew just where to find him. "I've got hooks," he told him.
And Alex when she came up to him…God, he wanted to tell her but he couldn't. He tried to get away as soon as possible. He had no desire to be shot down in the street for talking to his still-on- the-force partner because they didn't trust him. Worse yet, what if they shot her as a lesson to him? Or shot them both? Screwed again.
Bobby gathered his papers together, and put in his leather binder what he needed. He picked up the picture of him and Alex that he always kept in his binder and smiled. It was taken when they were at that club working what Alex called "The Botox Case." He studied it for a moment more, then put it back in the binder. He sighed. Everything had seemed a lot easier back then.
Just about everyone had already gone home except Ross, so there was no one to say goodnight to. Not that it mattered. He stopped by Ross' office. "Night, Captain."
Ross looked up. "Good night, Goren. Watch yourself."
The Captain had taken to saying that every night, and Bobby was grateful. "Thanks, Captain." Bobby left with just the hint of a smile on his lips. The Captain leaving late every night? He knew what Ross was up to. After everyone else had gone every night, Ross would go down and gather Rodgers and they'd leave together. Bobby was actually very happy for them.
The parking garage was fairly empty, too, by the time Bobby neared his car. Just a few cars left on this level, one near his. He walked a little slower, warily, unsure of that car. It hadn't been there earlier. Geez, he was getting paranoid…then again, as the saying goes, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you. And they were. Just as Bobby reached his car, three men got out of the car next to his. They were all cops, Bobby had seen them all before, but knew only one of them, Charles "Cubby" Fraley.
"Hi, Bobby," one of them said. "Or should we say 'Rat'?"
Bobby continued to walk slowly to his car, knowing they were like animals and would attack the moment he showed any fear. He started to open his car door and put his binder inside when one of them, giving it everything he had, literally slammed the door shut on Bobby's arm. It took everything he had not to cry out. He thought his arm might be broken.
"Uh uh," Cubby said, as if implying Bobby was trying to escape.
Bobby faced them. "What? Are you going to beat the shit out of me? Teach me some sick perverse lesson about taking down dirty cops?"
"Guess he is as smart as they say," another one grinned.
Another one said, "And now we're gonna take you down."
Bobby took a deep breath, taking a quick glance around. He was alone in here with them, with no way out. Thanks, Chief.
"Okay. You wanna beat the fuck out of me? Do it. Get it out of your system. Then you can go back and brag to your buddies that you beat up the Rat, really fucked him up good." He was so tired of it all. With an extreme effort to move his injured arm, he held both arms out from his body, indicating he wouldn't fight him, hoping to God they were just trying to scare him. If they were, they were doing a good job.
Unfortunately, scaring him wasn't what they had in mind. Two of them grabbed his outstretched arms and forced them roughly behind his back. This time, Bobby did cry out in pain.
"First," Fraley said, pulling Bobby's binder out of the car, "let's see what you keep in this all important binder."
Now Bobby did try to break free, that binder meant a lot to him. His mother had given it to him when he graduated from the Academy. His efforts were to no avail; the men just jerked his arms and held them tighter.
Fraley opened the binder, and dumped everything out, including crime scene photos and documents. And that picture of Alex and him. Then to Bobby's horror, Fraley took a switchblade and started slashing the binder to shreds.
"You son of bitch!" Bobby yelled, breaking free at last and lunging for Fraley. But before he could even land a blow the other two had him again. Then Fraley hit him in the solar plexus, doubling him over as he gasped for breath. Fraley hit him again and again in the abdominal area, and as Bobby collapsed they let him fall to the ground face first. They jerked him onto his back and began kicking him. Bobby tried desperately to get back onto his stomach to protect his head and abdomen, but they had no intention of letting him do that.
Finally Fraley straddled him, as once again the others held his arms down. Fraley hit him in the face, again and again, screaming "You gonna rat us out, Bobby? You gonna rat us out?!"
Bobby managed to get out a very weak "no" and Fraley got off him. One of the guys looked around and said, "let's get outta here!" One quickly taped something to Bobby's car, and took off in their own.
Groaning, Bobby managed to turn over again, and tried to get up on his knees. He failed miserably and just laid there, too hurt and exhausted to even move. Then thankfully, every went black.
XXX
About an hour later Mike Logan and Megan Wheeler pulled into the parking garage. Logan was grumbling again. "I thought we were quitting early today?" he complained. "It's already past eight. Just screw my date for tonight, huh?"
Wheeler gave him a dirty look. She was already tired and didn't feel up to his crap tonight. "Oh I imagine you'll still find a way to screw your date."
Logan grinned. "You know, it's taking a while, but I'm starting to like—what the hell is Goren still doing here?" He indicated Goren's car.
"I don't know."
"Pull over there."
Wheeler pulled over closer to Bobby's car, and Logan said, "Oh SHIT!" and was out of the car before Wheeler even stopped the car. He rushed to Bobby's side. "Get a bus here, ASAP!" he yelled to her.
As Wheeler pulled out her phone and called, Logan felt Bobby's neck for a pulse. Finally getting a pulse, he let out a breath, then gently turned Bobby over. Wheeler winced, and Logan said, "aww, fuck!" Bobby's battered face was nearly unrecognizable.
Pulling his own phone out, Logan called Ross.
"Yeah, Captain, it's Logan. I'm here in the parking garage. Someone got to Goren."
Ross closed his eyes for a moment as the significance of that statement sank in. "How bad?"
"Don't know. They beat the shit out of him; he's unconscious. We got a bus on the way." As he spoke he could hear the sirens, and moments later, saw the flashing lights. Then the ambulance pulled up, and the paramedics jumped out.
Logan quickly got out of the way, knowing he'd be knocked over if he didn't. "They're here now," he told Ross.
"Good. Find out where they're taking him and let me know."
Logan turned away for a moment, then spoke back into the phone. "Mt. Sinai. Want me to call Eames?"
"No, I'll do it. I'll meet you there. Let me know if anything...comes up."
While Logan was on the phone watching the paramedics ready Bobby, Wheeler picked up the remains of Bobby's binder, including the documents and pictures. She stared at the one of Alex and Bobby, then handed it to Logan. Logan stared at the picture, too, then put it carefully in the breast pocket of his jacket. Then he removed the picture the cops had taped to Bobby's car and placed it in an evidence bag. It was a picture of a rat.
XXX
Alex Eames was just pulling into the driveway of her house when her cell phone rang. As she stopped the car in the driveway, she looked at the caller ID. Ross, it said.
"Dammit!' she yelled. "What now?" She flipped the phone open. "Eames," she said tightly.
"Eames, it's Ross. I, uh, have some news about your partner…"
She stiffened. "Don't tell me, he's won the Medal of Honor." She spat the words out.
Ross didn't say anything for a moment, and suddenly she knew. Her stomach twisted in knots.
"Oh God, something's happened to him, right? What?! Tell me!"
"Calm down, Eames. Yes, something's happened. Seems like someone finally took action on that threat that's been hanging over him."
"Oh God," she said again. "Is...he…?"
"He's alive, Eames. According to Logan, someone beat the shit out of him. We just don't know how bad. All we know is he's a mess, and unconscious."
"Where…?"
"Mount Sinai. We'll meet you there."
Alex started the car again, and backed out. She couldn't get her mind off Bobby, and her anger over someone hurting him like that. Rat. That word had come back to bite them all in the ass. If only they'd made a plan, just in case. But how can you make a plan when you're not even talking? She felt a twinge of guilt. He'd wanted to talk to her, but she'd frozen him out. What if that was what he'd wanted to talk about, and she'd refused. She could only imagine how badly it must have unnerved him to be the object of an unknown threat. Why didn't she talk to him? Why? Well, all the "why-ing" in the world won't help now. All she could do was pray that Bobby would be okay.
Arriving at the hospital she made a beeline for the emergency room, where she found the others. "How is he?" she demanded.
"Hold on, Alex," Logan said. "We don't know anything yet."
"Were you there? How did he look, Logan? Please…"
Logan looked at Ross, who nodded imperceptibly. "He looked…bad, Eames. If I didn't already know it was him I'd never have recognized him. His face was a mess, that's all I know. He had his suit on, so I couldn't tell about any other injuries, but his suit was torn and filthy, like he'd been knocked around a lot."
Alex nodded, and Ross said, "We'll just have to wait for the doctor."
"I'll get us all some coffee," Wheeler offered, knowing that, although she knew him, she was the one least acquainted with Bobby, and that they wouldn't want to leave. And so they all sat around staring at the walls while they waited.
XXX
About an hour and a half later, a doctor finally emerged. "For Robert Goren?"
Ross and Eames got up. "Uh, you're his family?" the doctor asked.
"He has no family, Doctor. We're it." Ross told him. "I'm Captain Danny Ross, this is Detective Alex Eames, Bobby's partner.
"And I'm his official contact," Alex added.
"Okay then. I'm Doctor McCassin. And I'm happy to report that Robert will be fine. He's awake now, but he took one hell of a beating."
"How bad?" Ross asked,
"His injuries include three cracked ribs, a broken right forearm and a concussion, which we're going to watch carefully. His kidneys were also bruised; we want to watch that, too. Other than that, a multiple of cuts and bruises. And a broken nose."
"Can we see him?" Alex asked.
"For a few minutes. Right now he needs some rest."
Going back to see Bobby, they had to admit, his appearance was shocking. His eyes were both black, and swollen to where he was just seeing out of slits, his lips were cut, stitched, and also swollen. And his nose was broken again. He really did look bad. And that was all they could see.
"Don't say it, Logan," Bobby growled through swollen lips.
Logan held up his hands defensively. "I'm not saying a word."
"How are you, Bobby?" Ross asked.
Bobby looked at him. "I feel like crap. And it's freezing in here." He did appear to be shivering. "But I'm gonna make it. Guess that'll make some people unhappy." Alex knew he didn't mean her, but she felt that twinge of guilt again.
They could tell how difficult it was for him to talk, and that he was very tired, so they decided to take their leave.
"We'll talk later, Detective," Ross told Bobby, and Bobby knew what he wanted to talk about: who did this to him. Well, that was one conversation that would go nowhere, at least on Bobby's end.
"Hey Logan," Bobby said as he reached the door. "Get me some sweats, will ya?" His words were starting to slur, partly because of the pain medicine, and partly because of the stitching on the inside and outside of his mouth made it really tough. "There's money...in my wallet...somewhere. And could you get me a blanket? It's kinda cold in here. If they didn't take my wallet, too…" His thoughts were starting to become disjointed.
"I don't think robbery was the motive here, pal," Logan said a little sarcastically, knowing full well Bobby knew the motive too. "I'll just get them, they're on me." He handed Alex a small paper bag as he left. Alex watched him leave, thinking she should be the one getting his sweats, doing those kind of things. She was his partner. Yet he asked Logan. He thinks I'm still not talking to him, she realized.
Finally all were gone except Alex, who hadn't said a word yet. She looked in the bag Logan had given her, seeing Bobby's binder cut to shreds, and she found that picture of her and Bobby. He's saved this all these years… "I'm sorry, Bobby," she started, but the little slits they called his eyes were gone.
A nurse came into the room, and seeing Alex still standing there looking at Bobby, she said, "He'll probably be out all night. Why don't you go home, get some sleep, and come back tomorrow?"
Alex nodded numbly. She stared at her partner for a few more minutes, her eyes starting to mist. Six hours ago she couldn't have cared if he was dead or alive. Funny how things change, she thought.
XXX
Alex went home that night, made a pot of tea, and took a cup with her into the bathtub. God, she needed this. She wasn't going in to work tomorrow. She didn't think Ross would care, but if he did, well, tough. She had things to do. Getting Bobby a new binder, for one thing. She stayed in the tub a lot longer than usual, letting the warm water take away some of the stress she'd been feeling lately. Finally she got out and into her pajamas.
Lying on the couch with the rest of her tea, she did some deep thinking, which turned into an all night thing. This whole thing with Bobby had really come to a head. She had been furious with him after finding out about his undercover mission, and had really let him have it, with both barrels. But why then? She had felt betrayed, for sure. He didn't let her in on one of the most dangerous operations he'd been involved in since becoming her partner. Then again, she hadn't been altogether honest with him, either. She'd withheld that letter requesting another partner from him for years. And he found out in a very public humiliating way. And never gave her grief over it.
She knew undercover was what is was: undercover, meaning you tell no one. Not even your partner. Maybe she thought things were different with them since they'd been through so much together. But maybe that was Bobby's reasoning, too. They'd been through so much, he didn't want to put her through any more. Bobby was really a considerate man, and felt badly about her getting that mark in her jacket. That mark was her first, and it did mean something. She thought about the ones who had lots of marks in theirs—Bobby and Logan, for two. And both of them were great cops, had great solve rates…maybe because of all the little wild things they did. Bobby didn't care about the marks, and Logan seemed to think of it as a badge of honor. All good cops, the effective ones anyway, have at least one in their jacket, he'd told her. They went that extra mile. Well, she still didn't like that mark, but maybe it wasn't as bad as she'd thought.
She remembered all she'd said to him, well, yelled at him, that night. She had been a little rough on him. Most of the things she'd said were coming from her emotions, stemming from the fact that any one of those cops could have killed him. And especially, she could have killed him. She couldn't fault herself for that. Yet some of the things weren't entirely true, but she'd said it anyway, being angrier than she could ever remember. She really hadn't lied for him that much, really the only thing she could think of was the Tates affair. And he'd never asked her lie, or to cover for him at all, except for the Tates thing. And she was a big girl, the senior partner. It was her decision to either restrain him, or choose not to and take the consequences.
And that genius thing—sometimes she really did feel that way. But in her heart, she knew he didn't. He was extremely bright, yes, but he'd never lorded it over her. Just the opposite, really. He'd always tried to downplay it…and hadn't he told Nelda they had complimentary skills? If there was a problem there, just maybe it was her on that one. She'd have to look into it.
Yep, there were a lot of things she didn't like about Bobby Goren—the insubordination, disregard for authority, do whatever the hell he wanted attitude, no matter what. How she put up with him for all these years she'll never know. But she knew she wouldn't want to try. He may be arrogant, insubordinate, and all those other things, but he sure kept things interesting. And he was a kind gentle man who'd do anything in his power for her.
She looked at the clock: five forty five a.m. He'd be awake, even if he'd been sedated earlier in the evening. She dialed his room.
It rang three times before he answered. "Goren," he said sleepily, still in detective mode.
"Hi, Bobby? It's Alex. We've got to talk."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Whenever you want." For some reason, the cold hospital room seemed to warm up by a good ten degrees.
End.