Black Ice: Chapter 1
By: The Confused One
Summary: Bobby deals with losing the person who means the most to him.
Rating: K+
Warnings: Character death, and don't say you weren't warned.
Archive: Feel free, just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything even remotely related to Criminal
Intent. I only wish I did. Shippers around the world would rejoice if I were in charge. But I'm not, so all we can do is to continue to infer things from the scraps Dick Wolfe and co give us.
A/N: Yes, I realize I'm starting a new story before I've even finished one of the other…seven or so that I already started, but if I didn't get this out, I was seriously going to end up putting it into something like "The Fake Date", "Brother's Keeper", "Dredging up the Past", or "Patching Wounds", and I really didn't want to do that, so here it is. There will be more chapters, but I, hopefully, don't plan to make this one an epic. I'm just a bit sadistic or something and occasionally have this overwhelming need to… kill off someone. LOL I will return to my other stories now, and I hope to have chapters up for all of them up by Wednesday. Please enjoy, and remember to review. Thanks.
Standing in front of the casket, Bobby just stared for a long moment, trying to find the words. They didn't come. Choking back tears, he closed his eyes, for a moment, unable to bear seeing her like that anymore. The only thoughts he could bring up and make sense of were of her and, by extension, them. Thinking back, he found that he could replay just about every and any conversation they had ever had in his head with crystal clarity. She meant that much. Even her simplest words had that much weight with him.
Taking a deep breath, he looked at the casket again. He was unable to bring himself to move, even though he knew he should. They were supposed to be moving her to her gravesite, but saying goodbye to her was proving to be nearly impossible for him. He was saying goodbye to the one person who completed him, and he was beginning to wonder if he was going to be able to do this. For almost six years she had been there. She had grown to mean everything to him. She had managed to do something so many others had failed to do. She had connected with him, understood him, and accepted him. She had been his rock, his everything. She had always been able and willing to pick up the pieces when he delved too deep and the cases cut too close.
Hearing movement behind him, he wondered absently about how he was supposed to get through this without her. The irony of the idea that at the exact moment he needed her most, was when she was gone was not lost on Bobby Goren. He had not been prepared for this. He had grown to trust her completely, and by extension, his fears of losing another partner had quieted. He had never, not even once, in over four years considered she would cease to be in his life, no matter what the circumstances. Thinking back, he realized how foolish that had been. They were cops, death was part of what they lived with everyday. He wondered about that irony, too. Was he the only one who saw irony in the fact that after the years of dangerous police work, she died doing something so… mundane and normal? She died the same way millions of other people died every day, driving her car.
Swallowing hard, he tried one more time to put his sorrow into words and to try to say goodbye. He was finally able to form a few simple words, "It physically hurts being without you. I don't know…how to go on. I miss you, so much. There's so much I should have told you."
He didn't think it was enough, but it was all he was able to get out. Rubbing his face with his hand, he closed his eyes. Turning away, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Gasping slightly from the pain, he had to fight down the sobs that threatened to wrack his body. He was attempting to say goodbye to the woman he loved.
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It was one in the morning when his phone starting ringing. He had just gotten to sleep, and he was tired, very tired. Grumbling, he reached for his phone. Answering it, he snapped, "Goren."
Barely able to speak, Deakins choked out, "Bobby..."
Sitting up, Bobby could feel something move to the pit of his stomach. He could feel something was wrong, and his face paled just a little. As the seconds ticked by, the ominous feeling was only getting worse, and he forcefully asked, "Captain, what is it?"
There was no easy way to say it. Sitting at his kitchen table, he was calling Bobby first. Bobby had to know. Bobby should know first. Afraid he would breakdown otherwise, Deakins went into cop mode. "Goren, it's about Eames. Her car...skidded on some ice. She lost control. She's...gone, Bobby."