Title: Saturday Afternoon
Character(s): Bobby Goren, Alex Eames
Disclaimer: All rights belong to Dick Wolf, René Balcer, NBC, Universal, and all other rightful owners of the 'Law & Order' brand. I am borrowing the characters, and I promise to give them back when I'm done!
A/N I: Short little one-shot about Bobby's goings on on a Saturday afternoon.
A/N II: Updated 11/29/06 // This was always one of my favorite stories but, again, I thought it could use a little tweaking.
Summary: As Bobby stepped out of the subway and out to the crowded streets above, he quickly reminded himself why he didn't come to Union Square on Saturday afternoons.
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As Bobby stepped out of the subway and out to the crowded streets above, he quickly reminded himself why he didn't come to Union Square on Saturday afternoons. Packed to the brims with every walk of life imaginable, Union Square attracted a generally more eccentric bunch - war protesters, artsy college kids, aging hippie musicians, bums begging for pocket change - you name it and they were there. People with an agenda ready to spew their opinions at you, usually with a conveniently handy print-out or pamphlet, already hawking him as he crossed the brick pavement, ignoring as he went. In proper New Yorker conduct.
But Bobby didn't venture to fourteenth street just to take in the city's weirdest, he was more interested in the open-air market where fresh produce lined the streets, the smell of the freshly cut greens reminding him more of a far-off farm than the middle of noisy Manhattan.
His dark eyes scanned over a vendor's selection of radishes, full and red, their leafy tops bound together with frayed brown twine. As he reached to a bushel of the plump red roots, the sudden buzzing of his phone invited a groan from his throat. It can only be one of two things.
"Goren," he answered plainly, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, grabbing the radishes and holding them up for the vendor to see.
"Bobby? Where are you?" the familiar female voice questioned, "It sounds like you're at the bottom of a washing machine."
He smiled to himself, half from her attempt to be funny and half from it being the the better of the two calls he was expecting. Preoccupied, he handed the elderly vendor two singles and grabbed the bag from her hands. What I'll do with eight radishes, I'll never know. But for two dollars, it's a deal.
"Bobby?" she asked again, impatiently awaiting his reply.
"Union Square." he said flatly as he moved on down the row of vendors, eying the produce at each.
There was a brief pause from his female partner before she went on, "Alright... One PP got a call this morning from the three-five. Our suspect was arrested in East Harlem last night while trying to jack a car."
"Deakins called you?" his tone seemed uninterested as he inspected a large pink grapefruit, only to find a soft brown bruise on its opposite side.
"Yes," she sounded a little annoyed, but all business as usual, "He did. So go home and throw on a suit. I'll be by your place in a half an hour."
"Alright." he gently put the grapefruit down, poking at a few others before giving up and turning back towards the direction from which he came.
"Union Square? Really, Boby?" he could hear her smirk through the phone and just as easily picture it in his head, inviting a smile of it's own to creep across his face.
"Outdoor market, Eames." he insisted with a mock groan.
"Uh huh. You can pick up your propaganda leaflets some other time. Thirty minutes! Be ready." and with a click she hung up.
Approaching the crowded subway entrance, as to be expected, all passersby were bombarded by the hounding of fanatics and blue-haired college kids, and of course the usual begging bums. About to brush off the ranting of just another rabid activist, Bobby stopped and grabbed a pamphlet from his hand.
"This is for a friend." he smiled and started down the subway stairs.