Note/Disclaimer: I got to wondering one day whether Bobby and Alex would be the same people if their paths had taken a different turn. So while these characters belong to Dick and Rene and Vincent and Kathryn, I'm just taking them out for a stroll down the 'road not taken…" Hopefully they still seem like the same people, even if they're in a different context than usual. I have a couple of chapters in process detailing their meeting and getting to know one another. This is the first of them… others when I get them hashed out.
Chapter One – To Serve and Protect
She was sitting at her desk, doing the endless paperwork that comes with being a cop, shoving her long blonde hair out of her eyes, and wondering why some people seemed to think being a cop was so exciting. Mostly this job in Vice had forced her to cultivate an intimate relationship between her and her typewriter. It was rewarding getting low-lifes and perverts off the street, but that just meant endless variations of the same damn booking report. And today was no exception. She leaned back trying to work the cramp out of her neck when her phone rang. She sighed as she slid back from the typewriter stand and stood to reach for the phone.
"Eames," she answered crisply.
"Alex…"
"Sonny? Is that you?"
She suddenly she suspected she didn't want to know why her husband's partner was calling her.
"What's wrong?"
"Alex, its Joe. Oh God Alex, I don't know how to tell you this."
"Sonny, just tell me God damn it – is he hurt?"
"Alex, he's dead. Joe is dead."
Those three little words would change the whole course of her life. She felt her knees go weak, and it was as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. She couldn't seem to breathe. Someone had sucked all the air out of her lungs.
She tried to breathe, and she tried to think. The rational part of her brain could hear Sonny as he poured out a tale of shots fired and "blood everywhere, so much blood." As the daughter of a cop, the sister of a cop, the wife of a cop, and a cop herself, she always knew that a day like this could come, but how could she wrap your mind around the fact of those three little words … Joe is dead.
Some part of her brain was looking around the squad room, seeing everyone busy with their own tasks, and as she sank into her chair she wondered how to tell them this enormous thing.
"Alex, I've gotta go, the ME is here and I've got to talk to her. Will you be all right?
Yeah, Sonny, thanks. I'll talk to you soon…"
She hung up in a daze. Normally word of an officer down spreads like wildfire, but just for this moment, Alex realized, she was the only one in the room who knew. And how could she tell them? She just couldn't grasp what Sonny had said. Before she realized it, she was up and walking towards the front door. She had to be alone to think, and she just started walking. The anonymous crowds of people on the Manhattan sidewalks passed her by without a second glance. Eventually, she found herself in a tiny park next to a rather imposing church. Dropping down on a bench she sat and stared and wondered what she was going to do. As she sat there on a hard stone bench under a leafy green tree she thought back to her wedding day. There had been a church like this one with trees outside. And those words … "in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live…"
But this day there were no 'I dos,' no kisses in front of friends, there was only a gray empty future that Alex couldn't even begin to imagine. On that day there had been a husband to kiss away the tears… but on this day, there was no one -- would never be anyone --- and the tears rolled down her cheeks as she sat there sobbing, with her head in her hands.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and for a moment she wondered if somehow this had all been a dream, a mistake, maybe everything would be OK, and as she looked up she saw someone she had seen on her wedding day, a man dressed in black and white, but this time it wasn't a man wearing a tuxedo, this time she looked up to see a clerical collar – a priest. "Oh, God, why?" she gasped, looking up at the tall broad shouldered man who stood, looking down at her.
As she sat there, tears streaming down her face, hands limply in her lap, he sat down beside her and wondered how to answer this most familiar and most difficult question.
Not knowing exactly what to make of this small sobbing woman beside him he ran his hands through his hair and wondered how to give her what she needed. But before they got to the larger questions, he felt he had to concentrate on the immediate ones.
"Has someone hurt you, Miss?"
"Miss!" she thought, "what the hell?!"
"One of your … customers…" he tried again.
"Customers!" she snorted. She was up and walking away from him almost before he realized it. He followed her out onto the sidewalk, and again put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, but … the way you're dressed … I see a lot of girls like you who…"
Suddenly she realized how she must look. She hadn't even remembered that she was still dressed from her last collar in high-heeled boots, fishnet stockings, a black mini skirt, and a leopard-print halter-top.
She tried to laugh, but she found she had forgotten how. Today was no longer a day for laughter.
"I'm sorry, Father. No, see, I'm not usually…" As she searched for the right words, she wondered where her inner smart alec had gotten to. She was never at a loss for words. At any other time she might even have found this hilarious. As she stood there trying to find the words to explain, he put his hand on the small of her back and said "Why don't you come inside with me and we'll try and figure this all out."
Almost before she realized what he was doing, he led her inside the church and down a short hallway to his office. He sat her down, reached into his back pocket, pulled out a cloth hanky, handed it to her and poured her a glass of water.
He pulled a chair over and sat down facing her and asked, "Do you think you can tell me what's wrong?"
"What do you see when you look at me?" she asked him.
Leaning back in his chair he crossed his arms and idly rubbing his lips with the knuckles of his left hand, he stared at the small woman sitting across from him and sighed. She was mildly uncomfortable at the steady gaze from his golden brown eyes, but she was curious to see what he would say.
"I see a person who is obviously very upset by something. Something which has rocked her to her very core, and she is wondering how she will ever get through today, much less every day from now on."
Stunned, she looked back at him. "Father, you're a remarkable man."
"Please, call me Robert."
"Really?"
He smiled slightly. "I think I can be more help to you if you think of me as just a friend, and your friend's name is Robert."
"Well, remarkable Robert, thank you." She said with a ghost of a smile in her eyes. "I could use a friend today."
"Well, friend, can you tell me what brought you here?"
She paused and took a sip of water. She tried to think of what she could say to this man.
"Don't you even want to know why I think you're remarkable?"
"Oddly enough," he said, "I've been told that before, although it's usually not a compliment."
He didn't really want to be talking about himself she realized, but she wasn't ready to talk about her troubles either.
"You are remarkable because when I asked you what you saw when you looked at me, I expected you to say you saw a down-on-her-luck hooker.
"Are you?" he asked.
"No, not really," she said.
"Well, then, what is the reality? What should I be seeing?"
"The reality?"
"Yes"
"The reality is too horrible to contemplate." She said, dissolving back into tears.
He moved onto the couch beside her, took his handkerchief from her, wiped her cheeks, and looking deep into her eyes said "Please tell me. I'd like to help."
"Help me?"
Yes, that's what friends are for, aren't they?"
"I don't know. I don't really have a lot of friends. Not a lot of time for them in my line of work."
"That must get lonely."
"It does sometimes, but mostly I'm too busy to notice."
"What keeps you from noticing?" he asked softly.
"Being a Vice cop keeps me pretty busy."
"I see…" he said. "So that's why you're…"
"Yes … and no…"
"I see."
"No you don't. Not really."
"I'd like to try and understand."
She sighed suddenly and sprang up, set the glass of water on his desk and began pacing around the little room, examining the things around her and trying to keep from crying. Hanging on the wall behind the desk between two windows were several framed pictures and certificates. A small frame held his honorable discharge from the Army.
"You were in the Army?" She asked him.
"Yes, I joined up after high school, eager to see the world." She noticed a flicker of something in his eyes that belied his glib statement.
"So did you? See the world I mean."
"Yes, I was stationed in Germany, and did some short tours in Korea and Russia, traveled some of Europe, chased co-eds in England one summer…"
She looked at the name on the certificate --
Sergeant Robert O. Goren, U.S.A. CID.
Turning to him in surprise, "You were an Army cop?"
"Yes." She saw that flicker in his eyes again, and turned back to investigate the other things hanging on the wall – his whole life was right in front of her – his Army discharge, a degree in Psychology from Columbia, an ornate ordination certificate from Hudson Seminary, a doctorate from Yale Divinity School - but hanging in the midst of all the paper accolades, was a framed picture of a dark haired woman and two small boys.
"It's a long way from Army cop to priest isn't it?" she asked him.
"Each of us has our own journey" he replied cryptically, that dark look back in his eyes.
She wondered about the journey of this kind man who was so clearly uncomfortable talking about his past.
Sitting down on the couch next to him, she sighed. "We do, don't we."
"Where did yours begin?" he asked her.
"Queens" she said, with a ghost of a smile in her eyes.
"Ah, well that explains everything, now doesn't it," he teased gently.
"Yes… and no…"
So how does a little girl from Queens end up a Vice cop? He asked quietly.
"She follows in her father's footsteps" she replied.
"Daddy's girl, eh?"
"Well, it's sort of the family business -- although Dad was never in Vice -- and when I was growing up, playing cops and robbers with my brothers always seemed more fun than playing dress up with my little sister."
"But you ended up playing dress up after all, didn't you?" he said looking at her astutely.
Her eyes widened at him, and she nodded. "I've never thought of it like that."
"I was recruited for Vice out of the Academy. I don't think they knew what else to do with a tiny blonde woman cop except to hang her out in front of perverts."
"Are you good at it?"
Her eyes widened even further. "Yes, I am, actually."
"Good," he said. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure" she said warily.
He leaned forward, looking into her eyes "Is it something to do with your job that has you so upset?" He asked gently. "Did anyone hurt you?"
"Oh" she said quietly. "No, not in the way you mean."
"I'm glad," he said. "You must put yourself in harms way a lot."
"I guess. It's just part of the job."
"I know."
"You do, don't you."
"Yes."
"Like I said… remarkable…"
"I don't think so."
"Can I ask you something… Robert?"
"Anything, friend…"
"Alex."
"Alex?"
"Please call me Alex."
"What do you want to know, Alex?"
"Why?"
He sighed heavily, and this time it was his turn to pace around the small room. He wondered how many times people had sat in front of him asking the same question, and even with all his training, he never really knew what to say. He wanted to help them, and he wanted to help this woman too, but he needed some more information, and he was going to have to find a way to make her talk to him. Would the direct approach work, he wondered?
"Why what, Alex?"
"I don't… I can't… Oh, God, why??"
Ok, so the direct approach clearly wasn't going to work. He ran his fingers through his dark curly hair and tried to think.
"Where were you before you ended up here?" he finally asked her.
"At work."
"What were you doing there?"
"Writing up an arrest report on the latest creep who tried to get into my pants." She looked up at him, and added, "metaphorically speaking of course."
"Of course." He smiled back, taking in the very short skirt Alex had on.
This woman in his office was proving to be very intriguing.
"The arrest went as planned?" he asked.
"Yes."
"And so there you were, typing up your report about this creep, then what?"
"Then the phone rang."
"Who called?"
"It was Sonny."
"And what did Sonny want?"
"He wanted to tell me… to tell me…"
Oh, God, she thought, who am I? Why can't I just say it?
The man sat down on the couch next to Alex, and took her hands. He looked into her eyes and said "Alex. Please trust me. I want to help you but you have to tell me what's wrong. Close your eyes for me and take a deep breath."
With her eyes closed, and after she took that deep breath, he asked her another question.
"Alex, who's Sonny?"
"My husband's partner."
Husband, he wondered. This was definitely a very intriguing woman. A married Vice cop. That had to make for interesting dinner conversations… and this husband had a partner, was he a business partner he wondered…
"He's dead," she said, bringing Robert's attention back to Alex.
Who's dead? Sonny?
No, my… my … HUSBAND. My husband is dead. Joe is dead. That's what Sonny called to tell me.
"How did he die, Alex?"
"They were on an undercover drug bust and…"
"Your husband was a cop too?"
"Yes. Narcotics."
"And something went wrong during the drug bust?"
"That's what he said. I heard Sonny saying something about a shooting and blood and that Joe was dead, and the next thing I know I was sitting on that bench looking up at you. So you tell me Robert. WHY? He was a good man, and a good cop, and he deserved to live a long, long time, not be gunned down when he was just doing his job…"
"I don't know why Alex." He said sadly.
"Why not?"
"Alex. I know you don't want to hear this, but there may not BE a reason why. Things happen. Bad things. And there's nothing we can do about them.
"What the hell kind of priest are you, anyway? You tell me to trust you, and I tell you the hardest thing I've ever had to say in my life, and you come back with "I don't know." Well screw you, Father!"
"Alex, wait."
And there was that hand on her shoulder again. She froze at the touch. He sensed her tension, but something told him to press past that initial tension and he wrapped his arms around her and just held her. At first she couldn't move. She was so angry she was shaking. And he just stood there and held her. She struggled to get away but he wouldn't let her go. And finally the anger turned into tears and she stood there sobbing and being held in the strong arms of this gentle man.
When her tears quieted some, he sat her back down on the couch, put his finger under her chin and tipped her head up so he could look into her eyes.
"Alex, please trust me. I will help you any way I can. But giving you some hollow reason isn't going to make you feel better. You're a cop. You know that these things happen. Your husband died in the line of duty. Maybe someday you will find the answers to your questions, and I will help you to understand this if I can. But please listen to me. What you need to know is that you are not alone. I'm here for you."
"But for how long?"
"As long as you need me to be."
"But you must be busy."
"Yes, my work does keep me pretty busy," he sighed.
She looked up at him and said quietly, "Robert, can I ask you something else?"
"Anything, Alex."
"Even questions you can't answer?"
"They're my specialty," he smiled.
"You're lonely too, aren't you?"
This woman and her questions, he thought…"I'm sorry, Robert, maybe I shouldn't have asked…"
He stood up, and walked behind his desk, gazing out the window towards the tree under which he had first seen her sitting.
"No, Alex, it's fine. I said you could ask me anything."
"But even if I could, maybe I shouldn't have…"
She watched him standing there across the room, gazing out the window and wondered what he was thinking about.
He was wondering how a woman he had only met such a short time ago could read him so well. This woman who looked so small and helpless was testing him in ways he was only beginning to realize -- in ways she couldn't know. While the priesthood was never something he looked at as an escape, it did give him some measure of protection from his complicated life, and for that he was grateful. He had a routine, and he liked routine. He had a purpose, and he needed that. But he had never before met someone who had so quickly gotten through the barriers that he had built around himself. And he was beginning to see that if he was really going to help this woman he was going to have to open himself up in ways he was never comfortable doing.
He was about to turn around when he felt her hand on his arm.
"Who's the woman in the picture, Robert?" she asked.
"My mother."
"Is one of the boys you?"
"Yes, the younger one. The other boy is my brother Michael."
I have two older brothers," she said, "one's a cop, the other's a fireman. I know all about trying to keep up with older brothers."
He sat down in the chair at his desk and looking down he said to her "well, in my case, 'keep up' turned into 'keep away.'"
"I'm sorry," she said, leaning against his desk. "Do you ever see him?"
"No."
"That's got to be tough."
"It was once, now it's not something I tend to think about."
"Until it gets thrown in your face by some strange woman."
"You are many things, Alex, but strange is not one of them."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Father!" she said, and smiled when he looked up in surprise. "Think about it," she continued "if someone were to come in here right now, what would they see? Father Robert Goren with a hooker behind his desk…"
He couldn't help but smile at her. "God loves all his children," he said laughingly, "so why shouldn't I?"
"Oh, Robert, what a priest you must be."
"Oh, Alex, what a cop you must be."
But neither of them was really thinking about their jobs.