Fold Chapter 1, a law and order: ci fanfic

"Fold"

Usual disclaimers apply.

Timeline: Post "War at Home" … I've now finally seen it! Thanks to blucougar!!!

Dedication: This one is for bammi1 at her request. She's desperate. Her word, not mine. I hope you can handle an alter-ego of yourself, though. Be warned.

A/N: I'll be upfront here and admit that this is a reworked plot I developed for another fandom. So, if you think it's a cheat, then stop here and close the page. If you think it's okay for authors to reuse their own ideas, revise them and improve upon them, then keep reading. In fact, after I finished this, I didn't recognize the original story anyway.

After finally seeing "War at Home", I wondered where, as we all did, Bobby went after he walked out of the squad room that final time. I can't imagine his getting drunk and he was too uptight to go see his mother – as his mother, she would have picked up on his tension which would have been detrimental to her peace of mind. He wouldn't have allowed that. He could have walked it off and he probably did, but that's not nearly as much fun, is it:-D

This is still my LOCI universe where Goren and Eames were forced to be intimate by Nicole Wallace, their developing relationship nipped in the bud by Eames' bad recovery after "Blind Spot".

oOo

Chapter One

The bar was noisy, the good-natured ribaldry and laughter mocking Goren's torment. Situated off the foyer of the Embassy Suites Hotel, it was usually quiet and circumspect, mostly patronized by hotel guests. But in this instance, Goren realized he'd made a bad choice. Today it was crowded with a private party, the Bon Voyage balloons hanging from the necks of champagne bottles indicating that it was someone's good fortune to be going on holidays.

Goren rounded his shoulders against their camaraderie, envying their untroubled dedication to having a good time. Blocking out all, he concentrated on unraveling his anguish, clearing his psyche of the distress inflicted upon him by this last case, its bad timing and his colleagues' inability to give him the latitude he needed.

Cool, light fingers touched the hand wrapped around the half-empty glass of Goren's first and now lukewarm drink.

"You look unhappy. Why don't you join us?"

The voice was low and feminine, soft but insistent, confident without being brazen.

Instinct told Goren she was the guest of honor of the going away party. Despite his turmoil, the detective in him was still on duty. He'd noticed her when he came in, as she unwrapped a gift and tied the balloons to one of the wine bottles. Casually dressed in a loose top and well-pressed trousers, it wasn't her clothes that made her stand out and be noticed. It was her self-assurance, her total command of the table at which she sat. Hanging on her every word, the others were moths to a flame, and Goren had fleetingly wondered what it would be like for her to burn for him.

He kept his head down and ignored her.

"I'm not going away," she said.

Still refusing to look at her, he waved her off, but his hand was caught and held, those cool fingers belonging to a warm palm and strong grip.

He looked up, dismayed she was pushing the issue, and saw soft dark curls framing a pale face with a smiling pink mouth, petite nose, and concerned hazel eyes arched by natural brows. Her head would barely top his shoulders, and even up close, she had that presence he'd observed earlier, a confidence that wasn't alcohol-fueled, but came from within.

"I'd rather–"

He took back his hand and curled it around his glass, gripping it with desperation. He'd been picked up in bars before and sometimes he'd accepted and most times he'd been flattered, but tonight, he was too tied in knots to contemplate anything but his confused misery. He wanted her to leave him alone but knew her confidence would be challenged by any rebuff from him. He raised his chin and blanked his thoughts, not projecting interest nor disinterest, but discouraging her with a total of nothing.

She threw back her head and laughed, a joyous, uninhibited sound, then sat on the stool beside him, balanced an elbow on the counter and propped her chin on her hand.

"I recognize your game," she said. I've seen them all. Even tried a few myself. But, it's your lucky night, lover."

"No game," he mumbled, startled.

"And this is where I come back with the cliché of 'It's all a game'. I'd rather just get past the rhetoric and come to the point."

He sighed, not in the mood for verbal sparring. "You could. But…but your party will miss you."

"We've been at it for a while. I don't think they'll mind too much."

She leaned into him, deliberately pressing her breast against his shoulder. Goren felt its warmth and softness and realized with a shock that it had been a long time since he'd experienced those sensations. Coming on top of today's frustration and internal trauma, it went through him like expensive brandy through rich coffee.

"But no one's going to miss you, are they?"

Licks of anger curled in his gut, banishing his brief mellowing.

"You think I'm drowning my sorrows?" he demanded, pulling back. "I'm the rejected end of a love gone wrong? Your profiling skills are–"

"My God! I've got a cop!" she crowed. "I don't know whether to be worried or piqued. I think I'll go for piqued." She tipped her head and examined him through narrowed eyes. "And not one merely out of uniform, I'll warrant. That'll make you a detective. I'm definitely piqued."

Goren straightened from the bar, finished with the conversation, but she wrapped a hand around his upper arm.

"Stay."

She didn't have to say anything more. Her eyes shimmered with a rapid fire of messages. Quick reassessment, interest and lingering promise. Goren wasn't surprised there was no apology. Her hand burned through his jacket, her grip tolerating no refusal. Her impudence ignited his blood, his nerves poised to either rebuff her or subjugate her.

"You don't–" he began.

"I don't have to get to know you. Do you?"

Could she really see his ambivalence? Attracted to her but repulsed by her belief he would succumb. Needing a diversion but ashamed of his inability to overcome it with his own inner strength.

But then wasn't she the only one today who hadn't yet abandoned him? If she could give him that, then he could return to Carmel Ridge and his mother, his psyche stripped, aired and cleansed.

Who was he kidding?

"Yes. I do."

"Now, that disappoints me. Have you let down everyone who got within your radius today?"

Goren's lungs filled from righteous anger. "You know nothing of–!"

"That's not important, is it?" she asked, her eyes sparking. Stretching out a hand, she ran her fingers down the side of his face and their gentleness was at odds with the determination on her face. "I'm staying in town tonight. I've got a room. At this hotel."

Again, Goren felt torn between acceptance and revolt.

"I'll be with you," she said, her voice liquid chocolate, smoothing his ire. "For you. As long or as short as you want. No strings."

The scales tipped.

Alex, who had once professed to want him, was now immune to his overtures to bring their relationship back to the intimate and today she had rebuffed him when he was hurting most. This woman, a stranger, promised no judgment, no complication. Goren knew how it felt to be rejected without explanation and he realized he himself was doing it to another.

His head jerked with wounded pride, acceding to her and damning his conscience to agonize tomorrow.

"Let's go," he said.

oOo

TBC…

Chapter Two will be in the 'M' section.