Disclaimer:All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them stems from my fond admiration (and a few personal quirks I will seek "help" for).
AN: This story is not set within the accepted "canon" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series. So I get to "fool around" with them in ways in which they've never been seen, stretching that to the limit and suspending the "reality" that is "fiction" to start with…now there's a contradiction in terms!!!
(And yeah Goren I know the proper word for that is oxymoron...and we keep a brush beside the toilet for a reason…try using it…)
Bobby has disappeared and Alex is worried…
M.I.A
Alex Eames knew she had to be professional about this. Bobby Goren had been missing for three days. Not shown up at work, not answered his phone at home nor his cell and not responded to any of the messages left for him. He'd been very quiet for most of the week before, even by his standards. Anxious, uncertain and slightly twitchy at the mention of certain subjects and when she'd broached the matter of what might be wrong, evasive and vague.
At the door to his apartment she drew her gun as two large uniformed cops finally kicked it in. Had Bobby been here he could no doubt have picked the lock in ten seconds flat. One of the uniformed officers went immediately into the bathroom to the left.
"One male in the bath" he reported "Not him"
Eames breathed a sigh of relief then noticing a dark red stain on the carpet and knowing what Bobby would do bent down. Rubbed her fingers in the slightly sticky patch and sniffed them. She swallowed hard as the scent was a slightly stale, fruity smell. Not the metallic kind he'd taught her you got from blood.
"Two more in the bedroom" reported the second cop "Neither of them Detective Goren"
As they moved towards the kitchen there was a sound like breaking glass under their feet. Once again Eames bent down. Rubbing some of the tiny shards littered the carpet between her fingers and this time getting a smell of salt and finding what looked like some tiny black seeds amongst the residue.
The kitchen itself normally so pristine looked like a hurricane had hit it. Either that or someone had deposited the contents of a dumpster and under the kitchen table a man who was not Bobby flat on his face and clutching a bottle.
One of the cops felt his neck "He's got a pulse" he said "Just"
"See what you can do for him" said Eames holstering her gun "And call for back up"
She walked into the living room where there was that sound of broken glass again with every step. The sofa cushions tossed all over, the coffee table upturned and what looked like a pair of boxer shorts hanging from the light fitting which was broken. There was a sour smell like vomit in the room.
And Bobby. Curled up in a foetal position on the floor with a shattered baseball bat beside him. He must have put up a fight before he fell.
Eames knelt down carefully, stroked his hair briefly and then slapped his face hard "Wake up Goren!!" she yelled "Its three days since the Mets won the World Series. Celebration's over. Time to get back to work Detective"