Title: Surface
Spoilers (minor): Players and Maltese Cross
Author's Notes: A companion piece to my previous Logan/Eames story, Fade Away. Again, the muse works in strange ways. Constructive feedback gratefully appreciated. A Dick Wolf creation; obviously I'm just playing.
Sur-face: the outer face, outside, or exterior boundary of a thing; outermost or uppermost layer or area. Unabridged (v 1.1))
ooooOoooo
"I'll have another. Megan Wheeler waved the beer bottle in her hand at the bartender then drained the remaining dregs in one gulp.
"Easy there," a voice behind her said.
Megan turned to see Bobby Goren settling himself on the bar stool next to her. He had disappeared to take a phone call, giving Wheeler more time to stew over her day.
"Keep your advice for your own partner. Besides, I'm off tomorrow." She accepted the new bottle from the bartender.
Goren pretended that she hadn't mentioned Alex Eames and focused her instead. Wheeler was upset about something, her usually alert demeanor was slumped and she was ripping the paper off her beer bottle with focused intensity.
"Something on your mind?" Goren asked.
"Just thinking."
"Anything in particular?"
"Logan," she started, but went back to finishing off the paper ripping.
"Did he do anything in particular or is it just Logan in general?"
She took a long swallow and then continued. "He told me that I didn't seem like myself."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I guess I'm usually more centered."
Goren couldn't help but smile. "Logan uttered the word centered?"
"He stopped me outside the station before we met and asked me out to dinner," Wheeler griped. "He wanted to talk and I'm sure it had to do with my dad."
"So why not talk to him? Obviously he's trying to connect with you as a partner," Goren advised.
"Now is not the time for Mike Logan to become Mr. Sensitive. I'm only mad at him because he's right and here I'm giving him the same cold shoulder he gave me when I started." She signed.
As much as any woman would feel flattered that two men invited her out on the same night, neither of them could be considered romantic prospects. Truth be told, she wished she was at home in a hot bath. Alone.
"You know it wasn't until you came along that Logan really started behaving himself," Goren observed. "With the exception of that tussle the two of you had at the firehouse, of course."
"But what about Carolyn Barek, his previous partner? I thought she was a good influence on him."
"Not that I could see. Besides, they didn't last long as partners and she moved on to other things," Goren said, knowing he was exaggerating a bit.
Not having any reason to doubt him, Wheeler accepted his reasoning despite the fact that she'd heard differently from Logan himself.
"So why didn't it work out?" She remembered seeing the petite, very striking dark haired woman once and feeling completely intimidated. Red hair and freckles just couldn't compete.
"If the rumors about them were true, then it's possible that their differences of opinion were more personal than business."
"They were involved?" Wheeler immediately regretted gossiping about her partner.
"Does it matter to you if partners or people who work together for that matter get involved?"
Wheeler felt a strange prickling sensation on the back of her neck, but ignored it. This was Goren after all, not some perp off the street. Not wanting him to think she was a prude, she replied, "No, it's fine, so long as it doesn't interfere with work."
Goren knew he needed to stop his questions, and as much as it yielded some interesting answers to his questions, it also struck very close to home.
Dropping this precarious line of conversation, he asked, "How about dinner?"
The thought of the hot bath crossed Wheeler's mind again but she was curious as to the direction of this odd friendship she'd struck up with Goren. There was just enough alcohol in her system for her to say, "Pasta sounds good."
"Sure, I make pasta," and Goren got up from his barstool and started walking out before either of them could change his mind.
/end one - to be continued