Reckoning
Disclaimer: LO: CI, Goren, and Eames do not belong to me. They belong, presumably, to NBC and Dick Wolf.
Description: Goren and Eames hash out some differences after a deadly sting. POST-EP for Suite Sorrow
Author notes: This is my first fic ever for any 'fandom'. I have no idea what I'm doing. That said I just wanted to communicate my intention. The fundamental difference between Eames and Goren I think is often misinterpreted to be that Goren is an 'intellectual' and Eames not. I actually think the difference is that Eames has shed the 'girly' character trait of empathy, and Goren has it in spades. Thus their different interpretations of the same events. For Eames, as a woman who is a cop, this allows her to do her job. For Goren, empathy makes his insights possible, although there are consequences to it. So I wanted them to work that out. It's angst-ridden, because that's fun to write, I think. Plus I threw in just a little bit of G/E unresolved sexual tension stuff because I get a kick out of it. But that isn't what the story is about.
************************************************************************
Chapter 1.
She finds him alone at the bar by the office. He is drinking Jack and water, staring down at the table. His nervous ticks are noticeable across the room. Wildly running his hand across his face, his head is twitching every direction.
She walks over and slides into the booth across from him. He doesn't look up. .
"I fucked up. I…" Goren's facial muscles twitch with rage.
Alex says nothing. She slides her hands forward across the table, reaching for the hand he has tightly wrapped around his glass. But she stops half way and merely folds her hands together, her arms extended.
"You did what you thought would work." She offers this lamely, knowing he doesn't really hear her. Knowing it doesn't matter what she says.
"I should have known. No… I KNEW, DAMMIT!" His fist comes down on the table. Alex anticipated it, but the impact makes her jump slightly anyway.
She has nothing to say. She isn't even sure anymore why she came to find him. Did she think he would be comforted by her presence?
No, she knew he would be oblivious. Maybe she came to save his pride. When he drank, which was rare, he drank with purpose. And he was not a pleasant drunk. He would be shamefaced later, since this was a bar frequented by many of their colleagues.
Or maybe she came there to make herself feel like she mattered.
"Goren." She sighs deeply.
He finally looks at her.
"Go home. Just go." He says this coldly.
She is getting angry at him. Angry at his self-absorption. He gets all the credit for all the solves, all the success. And he takes the blame for every rare failure.
Like she wasn't there. Like she, and Deakins, and Carver, weren't in on the plan from the get go.
"Listen to me. I hooked the damn mic to her, Bobby. Carver approved. Stop playing the martyr."
Goren rolls the ice cubes in his glass and slams the remainder of his drink like a shot. He waves a server over to the table and orders another Jack and water. Then he orders a gin and tonic.
"Fine. You want to be in this with me? Then you need to catch up." This is not a friendly invitation to imbibe. He is seething.
When the drink arrives he slides it violently across the table at her. The contents slosh out of the glass and wet the surface.
Alex has no intention of drinking it.
"What would you have me do? Help you with your self-flagellation? I'm not here to beat you up."
"What then, Eames? Are you here to lick my wounds?"
She feels her stomach drop. She hates him. Hate this. Hates feeling wholly inadequate, like she can't compete with his pain.
But she doesn't find herself walking out. Instead she picks up the drink he ordered for her and sucks it down.
"I don't know. I don't know why I'm here."
Disclaimer: LO: CI, Goren, and Eames do not belong to me. They belong, presumably, to NBC and Dick Wolf.
Description: Goren and Eames hash out some differences after a deadly sting. POST-EP for Suite Sorrow
Author notes: This is my first fic ever for any 'fandom'. I have no idea what I'm doing. That said I just wanted to communicate my intention. The fundamental difference between Eames and Goren I think is often misinterpreted to be that Goren is an 'intellectual' and Eames not. I actually think the difference is that Eames has shed the 'girly' character trait of empathy, and Goren has it in spades. Thus their different interpretations of the same events. For Eames, as a woman who is a cop, this allows her to do her job. For Goren, empathy makes his insights possible, although there are consequences to it. So I wanted them to work that out. It's angst-ridden, because that's fun to write, I think. Plus I threw in just a little bit of G/E unresolved sexual tension stuff because I get a kick out of it. But that isn't what the story is about.
************************************************************************
Chapter 1.
She finds him alone at the bar by the office. He is drinking Jack and water, staring down at the table. His nervous ticks are noticeable across the room. Wildly running his hand across his face, his head is twitching every direction.
She walks over and slides into the booth across from him. He doesn't look up. .
"I fucked up. I…" Goren's facial muscles twitch with rage.
Alex says nothing. She slides her hands forward across the table, reaching for the hand he has tightly wrapped around his glass. But she stops half way and merely folds her hands together, her arms extended.
"You did what you thought would work." She offers this lamely, knowing he doesn't really hear her. Knowing it doesn't matter what she says.
"I should have known. No… I KNEW, DAMMIT!" His fist comes down on the table. Alex anticipated it, but the impact makes her jump slightly anyway.
She has nothing to say. She isn't even sure anymore why she came to find him. Did she think he would be comforted by her presence?
No, she knew he would be oblivious. Maybe she came to save his pride. When he drank, which was rare, he drank with purpose. And he was not a pleasant drunk. He would be shamefaced later, since this was a bar frequented by many of their colleagues.
Or maybe she came there to make herself feel like she mattered.
"Goren." She sighs deeply.
He finally looks at her.
"Go home. Just go." He says this coldly.
She is getting angry at him. Angry at his self-absorption. He gets all the credit for all the solves, all the success. And he takes the blame for every rare failure.
Like she wasn't there. Like she, and Deakins, and Carver, weren't in on the plan from the get go.
"Listen to me. I hooked the damn mic to her, Bobby. Carver approved. Stop playing the martyr."
Goren rolls the ice cubes in his glass and slams the remainder of his drink like a shot. He waves a server over to the table and orders another Jack and water. Then he orders a gin and tonic.
"Fine. You want to be in this with me? Then you need to catch up." This is not a friendly invitation to imbibe. He is seething.
When the drink arrives he slides it violently across the table at her. The contents slosh out of the glass and wet the surface.
Alex has no intention of drinking it.
"What would you have me do? Help you with your self-flagellation? I'm not here to beat you up."
"What then, Eames? Are you here to lick my wounds?"
She feels her stomach drop. She hates him. Hate this. Hates feeling wholly inadequate, like she can't compete with his pain.
But she doesn't find herself walking out. Instead she picks up the drink he ordered for her and sucks it down.
"I don't know. I don't know why I'm here."