Bobby Goren was bored, which happened often, and was staring languidly at
Eames as she bent over her work. She was scribbling away on the page, her
hands drawing deft strokes across the lines, and he let his eyes linger on
her before glancing down at the paper.
"Hey, what's that?" Goren leaned over and tried to get a better look at what Eames was doing. He caught a glimpse of a pair of startling eyes before she yanked the notebook away.
"Nothing," Eames said quickly, and blushed-so odd for her that Goren was instantly interested.
"Come on, what is it? A drawing, right?"
"No-o-o..."
"Sure it isn't. Let me see."
"No!"
"Come on...please?" Goren wheedled, giving her his most charming and persuasive smile.
"Nope." Eames rose to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'm starving, let's go already."
"Sure." Goren looked innocent enough as he caught his jacket from the coat rack and eased into it, and even held the door open for Eames. She smiled at him, sauntering past, and-
"Hey!" Eames yelped, and chased Goren down the steps as he darted away with her notebook in hand. Laughing like a maniac-which seemed so natural to him that it was slightly creepy-Goren flipped open the front cover and leafed through the pages.
He stopped in his tracks as he saw the first few drawings. The details were so vivid, so realistic, that the characters seemed to live inside the pages. A girl talking to her mother, an old man drinking coffee at a table with a newspaper, a flock of pigeons rising into the air around a skyscraper... Each of the scenes he saw were filled with light and shadow, colours, shape and texture and depth. "I didn't know you had a talent for drawing," Goren said aloud, his voice abruptly gruff.
"There are lots of things you don't know about me." Was that a touch of teasing laughter in Eames's voice? When he looked up at her, she had her arms crossed and was glaring at him with mock sullenness. "Okay, for your punishment, you have to tell me what you think of them."
What else could he say? "Eames... honestly, these are amazing."
"Oh, yeah?" She grabbed her notebook back and stuffed it in her bag. "Well, just for that, I'm buying you lunch."
Laughing again, they took off together and headed for the restaurant down the street.
In the afternoon, Goren was searching through some files while Eames typed out a report. Quiet work, the right kind for a rainy day, which it was... and just the right kind for waiting for a phone call.
The whole office, in fact, was waiting for this phone call-and none more so than Captain James Deakins. The detectives' supervisor was spinning around in his chair, fiddling with his papers, biting his fingernails, and tapping his feet nervously. Eames shot a stealthy glance at him as he tried to read a fax upside down and exchanged smiles with Goren.
"Detective Goren!" roared Deakins at the same time, snapping a pencil in half between his fingers. "Get in here!"
Goren sighed theatrically and made his way over to Deakins's office. The wiry blond man tried to look imposing and stern as the detective sat himself opposite the desk, and failed pitifully. "Where's that report on the Ford case?" Deakins growled.
"Here, sir." Goren passed it over from the stack of folders he had been carrying, and watched with growing pity and amusement as Deakins fumbled with the papers and dropped the pile of photographs, scattering them all over the desk.
"Thank you, Detective, you can leave," Deakins answered finally, dismissing his top detective with a sharp jerk of his hand.
Goren obliged, but not before pausing at the doorway. "I'm sure she'll be fine, sir," he said reassuringly. "Has she had any kids before?"
"No," snapped Deakins, looking miserably up at him. "And her health is so bad, I... I'm worried about her." He swallowed hard and stared resolutely down at the reports in front of him, blinking his eyes fast. Goren felt a stirring of sympathy for his supervisor and quickly turned away.
Eames hung up the phone and stood up just as he rejoined her. "Listen up!" she called out to the headquarters, her face alight with mischief and pride. Every face turned her way, and Deakins's tousled head poked out of his office, his eyes haggard.
She folded her hands behind her and announced, "Olivia Sarah Deakins was born exactly one hour and two minutes ago, weighing in at seven pounds, eight ounces."
The room exploded with cheers and raucous whoops, the sound of clapping echoing off the walls. Deakins leaned against the doorframe of his office, his eyes taking on a relieved glow and a slow, wobbly smile stretching across his face. "Come on, get back to work!" he shouted above the noise, and the cheers turned to hoots of laughter.
Wait for the next chapter, it gets better... If you read and review-and leave your names-I'll write you into my next piece... *grin*
"Hey, what's that?" Goren leaned over and tried to get a better look at what Eames was doing. He caught a glimpse of a pair of startling eyes before she yanked the notebook away.
"Nothing," Eames said quickly, and blushed-so odd for her that Goren was instantly interested.
"Come on, what is it? A drawing, right?"
"No-o-o..."
"Sure it isn't. Let me see."
"No!"
"Come on...please?" Goren wheedled, giving her his most charming and persuasive smile.
"Nope." Eames rose to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'm starving, let's go already."
"Sure." Goren looked innocent enough as he caught his jacket from the coat rack and eased into it, and even held the door open for Eames. She smiled at him, sauntering past, and-
"Hey!" Eames yelped, and chased Goren down the steps as he darted away with her notebook in hand. Laughing like a maniac-which seemed so natural to him that it was slightly creepy-Goren flipped open the front cover and leafed through the pages.
He stopped in his tracks as he saw the first few drawings. The details were so vivid, so realistic, that the characters seemed to live inside the pages. A girl talking to her mother, an old man drinking coffee at a table with a newspaper, a flock of pigeons rising into the air around a skyscraper... Each of the scenes he saw were filled with light and shadow, colours, shape and texture and depth. "I didn't know you had a talent for drawing," Goren said aloud, his voice abruptly gruff.
"There are lots of things you don't know about me." Was that a touch of teasing laughter in Eames's voice? When he looked up at her, she had her arms crossed and was glaring at him with mock sullenness. "Okay, for your punishment, you have to tell me what you think of them."
What else could he say? "Eames... honestly, these are amazing."
"Oh, yeah?" She grabbed her notebook back and stuffed it in her bag. "Well, just for that, I'm buying you lunch."
Laughing again, they took off together and headed for the restaurant down the street.
In the afternoon, Goren was searching through some files while Eames typed out a report. Quiet work, the right kind for a rainy day, which it was... and just the right kind for waiting for a phone call.
The whole office, in fact, was waiting for this phone call-and none more so than Captain James Deakins. The detectives' supervisor was spinning around in his chair, fiddling with his papers, biting his fingernails, and tapping his feet nervously. Eames shot a stealthy glance at him as he tried to read a fax upside down and exchanged smiles with Goren.
"Detective Goren!" roared Deakins at the same time, snapping a pencil in half between his fingers. "Get in here!"
Goren sighed theatrically and made his way over to Deakins's office. The wiry blond man tried to look imposing and stern as the detective sat himself opposite the desk, and failed pitifully. "Where's that report on the Ford case?" Deakins growled.
"Here, sir." Goren passed it over from the stack of folders he had been carrying, and watched with growing pity and amusement as Deakins fumbled with the papers and dropped the pile of photographs, scattering them all over the desk.
"Thank you, Detective, you can leave," Deakins answered finally, dismissing his top detective with a sharp jerk of his hand.
Goren obliged, but not before pausing at the doorway. "I'm sure she'll be fine, sir," he said reassuringly. "Has she had any kids before?"
"No," snapped Deakins, looking miserably up at him. "And her health is so bad, I... I'm worried about her." He swallowed hard and stared resolutely down at the reports in front of him, blinking his eyes fast. Goren felt a stirring of sympathy for his supervisor and quickly turned away.
Eames hung up the phone and stood up just as he rejoined her. "Listen up!" she called out to the headquarters, her face alight with mischief and pride. Every face turned her way, and Deakins's tousled head poked out of his office, his eyes haggard.
She folded her hands behind her and announced, "Olivia Sarah Deakins was born exactly one hour and two minutes ago, weighing in at seven pounds, eight ounces."
The room exploded with cheers and raucous whoops, the sound of clapping echoing off the walls. Deakins leaned against the doorframe of his office, his eyes taking on a relieved glow and a slow, wobbly smile stretching across his face. "Come on, get back to work!" he shouted above the noise, and the cheers turned to hoots of laughter.
Wait for the next chapter, it gets better... If you read and review-and leave your names-I'll write you into my next piece... *grin*