Detective Eames trudged through the moonlit alleyway, passing cardboard boxes filled with vagrants, to the patrol car lit up at the other end. It was two o'clock in the morning. She had been rudely awakened half an hour ago by a call from one of her friends at the 2-7, letting her know her partner had been found in a dishevelled state exchanging money with street kids. They had thought he was trying to buy drugs until he told them he was a Detective at Major Case, and showed them his ID.
She went up to the open rear door of the patrol car to find Goren sitting there staring at his hands. He was pale and shivering, dressed in just some sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He knew she was there, but he wasn't going to look at her, he didn't know what to say. He knew it looked bad.
Eames frowned, and sighed in frustration. She looked up at the beat cop leaning against the bonnet.
"Thanks for the call, I'll take it from here."
She leaned onto the car by the back door, and bent her head down so Goren had no choice but to look at her. He looked up sheepishly and rubbed his neck.
"I, uh… was looking for Donnie…"
She nodded. "My car's down the block, come on. Watch your head." She helped him out of the car and nodded to the two Uniforms. They nodded and hopped back in the patrol car, speeding off.
When they got back to her SUV, Eames blasted the heat on the AC, trying to warm Goren up. They didn't talk on the way to his apartment – he leant his head back against the headrest and pretended to sleep, she looked over at him every now and then, concern etched across her face.
"We're here." Eames tapped Goren on the shoulder as she turned the engine off. He yawned and nodded, without looking at her, and slowly got out of the car, following her up the stoop of his apartment building.
They ascended in the elevator, standing a couple of feet apart and both looking markedly uncomfortable. Eames couldn't take it anymore. She hit the stop button and turned to stare at him. Goren sank back into the far corner of the elevator, as if he could get away from her.
"What the fuck, Bobby? What the hell were you doing down there, talking to drug dealers in the middle of the night? You could've been killed, you could've frozen to death, you weren't even wearing a jacket," she burst out.
Goren hesitated, then raised his gaze to meet her stare.
"I'm a cop, Eames. I knew what I was doing. I, uh, I was trying to get information about Donnie. Money talks, you know. When I ran out of cash, I traded my jacket."
Eames sighed and nodded. She hit the stop button again and folded her arms against her chest. The elevator dinged and Eames stormed out, waiting impatiently at Goren's door while he gingerly walked up and fumbled with his keys, before finding the right one. He walked into the dark apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights. Eames flicked the switch as she followed him, her breath catching as she caught the sight of his kitchen.
It had been a few days since Goren was suspended by the Chief of Ds for the Tates fiasco, and she could see from the state of his apartment he hadn't spent any time there other than to eat and throw on some clothes. Smelly pizza boxes littered his dining table and dirty clothes were strewn across his living room.
She heard him crashing about in his bedroom, and proceeded to throw a few of the pizza boxes into the large trash can whilst she waited. Goren reappeared in the kitchen a few seconds later, this time dressed in a pair of old acid wash jeans, a thick checked shirt and a large padded parka. He ignored Eames, and walked straight to one of the kitchen drawers, pulling out a wad of twenty dollar bills, stuffing them into the pocket of his jacket.
Eames stood back and stared at him, cocking her head to the side, in a very Goren-like manner. He looked up at her, and shrugged, not appearing to care what she thought.
"Going somewhere?" she asked bluntly, moving over by the door, blocking it.
"I have to look for Donnie, he's off his meds, he could hurt himself," said Goren, his voice raised and anxious. He moved towards the door, and Eames shifted herself into his path. He backed off for a second, rubbing his temples.
"He's not the only one. Bobby, you're not sleeping, you're not thinking clearly," said Eames. "You need to stay here. You're no good to Donnie if you get killed out there."
"Don't tell me I'm not thinking clearly, Eames! Donnie is my nephew! Do you have any idea what I went through for him?!" Goren leaned in at her, using his large frame to try to intimidate her. "Get out of my way," he snarled, uncharacteristically.
Eames clenched her jaw and stood as tall as she could. "No."
His face like stone, Goren turned his back on her, his hands running through his hair. Alex didn't see it at first, he turned back on her so fast. The gun. This was the first time she had ever really felt scared of her partner, she could barely believe it was happening. He had a gun on her. He had pulled it from under his parka. He was aiming that gun squarely between her eyes.
"Get out of my way, now!" he screamed, his hands shaking as he held the gun on her.
Eames put up her hands, backing up quickly towards the door. She wrenched her gaze away from the barrel of the semi-automatic and stared directly into his desperation-filled eyes. She took a deep breath before speaking.
"Look at yourself, Bobby. Are you going to shoot me? Me, your partner. The one person who has stood by you through everything? Me, really?" she said shakily.
It took what seemed like minutes for Goren to react to what she said. A look of shame and pure anguish washed over his face as he realized what he was doing. He shifted the gun away from her head slowly, backing off. He laid the gun gently on the newly cleared table before choking back an "I'm sorry" and leaning against the back wall of the kitchen. He couldn't believe what he had just done.
Eames looked away and took a few more deep breaths, trying to compose herself. She then moved silently to the table and unloaded the clip of the gun, putting the clip in her pocket and poking the gun in the back of her pants. Goren had sunk down the wall, his head in his hands.
"Go and have a shower, Bobby. You stink. I'll make some coffee and we can talk," she said, not looking directly at him, her voice emotionless.
Goren nodded and slowly got up, and resisted the urge to run into the bathroom. He calmly walked in and locked the door behind him. He walked over the basin and splashed some cold water on his face. He rested his hands on the basin as he searched his reflection in the mirror – he didn't recognize the face that looked back at him. It was aged and exhausted. What was happening to him?
He stood in the shower for what must have been a really long time. He didn't know how long. He just didn't want to go out and face what he'd done. Face what he'd done to her, his partner. His partner. He had just pulled a gun on his partner. Maybe he really was losing it.
He put his clothes back on, minus the bulky parka, and was still towel drying his salt'n'pepa curly hair as he walked out of the bathroom. Then he saw them. Eames was sitting at his kitchen table, fiddling with a napkin, refusing to look at him. A tired Captain Ross stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. Two paramedics with full kits were standing next to Ross, and two Uniforms were standing in front of his apartment door.