The Best Laid Plans
Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim any rights to these characters, nor do I intend to make any money whatsoever off of this. Fanfiction is just cheaper than therapy.
I have always wondered what the missing scenes looked like when Goren and Eames hatched the idea for Goren to go up to Tates. I know it wasn't telepathy. Either way, I thought I'd see it through Eames' eyes. Just a little piece while I toil away on another large one.
I have been waiting a long time. Maybe I missed it, maybe the phone buzzed and I didn't hear it.
Bullshit.
I have been staring at the phone for the better part of the afternoon, willing it to communicate to me where my partner might be, and in what condition.
Of course that depends on if he is still even my partner, the man I know, or if he has gone completely over the edge, and I'll be visiting him at Carmel Ridge for the rest of his life.
If this is the case, I will never forgive myself. I will retire and devote myself to taking care of him.
(Of course once it's been discovered where he is, etc., I will probably be fired. But, what the hell, for now I will imagine an honorable retirement complete with ice cream cake and gold watch.)
Of course, I have no idea who I'm kidding. I've already devoted myself to taking care of him. After all, who else am I supposed to take care of? The possibility of having my own kids is looking more and more like a remote possibility, and so I've adopted instead. So what if he's a forty something criminal profiler who may or may not at this moment be going off the reservation in a mental lockdown unit somewhere upstate?
The clock ticks away. The phone remains silent.
I try and concentrate on what I'm supposed to be doing, but I'm only succeeding in bouncing my pencil off my desk in perfect rhythm.
I stare at his empty chair.
I can't believe I let him do this. I can't believe I agreed to his insane plan.
Last night it all sounded reasonable, when I went over to apartment, ostensibly to return the phone he had laid deliberately on the desk earlier. That's Goren code for 'the wheels in my head are turning and I don't care what our Captain says.'
It was my choice whether or not to take the bait, but I did. When he opened the door I didn't even bother to continue the pretense by saying, "Oh, hey you forgot your phone today." I just brushed past him- he had that self-satisfied look on his face- and sat down on the sofa, and waited for the great Bobby Goren presentation that was to follow. The only thing missing was the popcorn.
He laid it out so carefully. And I listened, and participated. I agreed to help him.
Why?
Oh, so many reasons- I believed that his nephew had been telling the truth about Tates, that he had gotten a raw deal, and that the warden up there needed to be stopped. When Ross had sent Donnie back there, even I felt like he had sent the kid to the slaughterhouse. In any case, there was no talking Goren out of it, and he is my partner.
Tick, tick, tick….
How long did I say I'd wait until I involved Ross? Oh, yeah, I didn't. Because he assured me everything would be alright. Those were his last words to me when I dropped him off at the bus station yesterday. He got out of my car, turned and looked back in at me with that reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Eames. Everything will be alright."
I had smiled tightly. What was I supposed to say back to him?
"Please don't go. This is the wrong way to go about it. I've been thinking and this is just a bad idea, all around."
Um, no.
"I'm in love with you."
Ha.
So I just nodded, biting my lip when he closed the door and went into the station.
The silence in this place is deafening. I can't believe no one's figured out the guilty look on my face. My heart is pounding. I've reached my breaking point. I check the phone one more time.
Nothing.
Sorry, Bobby. The adventure is over.
Ross is leaving his office. The end of the day has come. I push away from my desk and jump up to go after him, preparing myself to beg and plead for his help.
How long do I assume everything's just fine?
Not another minute longer.