Author's note: The LOCI characters are not mine. I borrowed them.
Some of the other characters are mine (e.g., Lucy, the CSU). I invented them. And, since my brain is cumulative, I am using them here, even though I developed them in prior stories.
Also, since I love a good gimmick, each chapter is titled from a line of a bedtime verse…
Opposite of the show, in this fiction world, whatever crime you might see is the background, the characters are more the focus.
Now I lay me down to sleep
Bobby Goren lay on his couch, his arm over his eyes, listening to his alarm clock blaring so loudly he could hear it all of the way down the hall from the bed room. Same time, each day, he was forced awake. He couldn't remember the last time he had naturally opened his eyes, feeling refreshed from night of good sleep ready to face the day. He knew that some people actually lived like that; some people actually had such a life as to sleep well at night and wake up on their own without some blindingly loud sound blaring into their brain forcing them to consciousness.
An hour later he walked into a lovely downtown apartment, with a breathtaking view of the city. He stepped across yellow tape and through two CSUs deep in conversation. His eyes found Eames standing and talking with a uniform. It didn't even occur to him to walk over and talk with Eames, he simply snapped his gloves on and headed toward the dead body. A middle-aged man, White, soft through the middle, balding, lay sprawled in a chair, a bullet through the brain. Bobby irrationally thought that was how the sound of his alarm felt that morning, like a bullet through the brain.
Bobby stood for a moment, his eyes taking in the scene, the surrounding context, the view out the window. He was starting to puzzle over why Major Case was involved, clearly this was a suicide. He didn't see a single thing that suggested otherwise. So, he began his observations again, thinking that maybe his mind had skipped something. Slowly, meticulously, he studied the body, the position of the man, the relative position of the gun, the blood spatter, the brain spatter, he was back to contemplating the view out the window when Eames came to stand beside him.
"Well?" Eames asked, but Bobby actually wasn't sure if she had said the word aloud, he thought maybe it was just so clearly stated in her expression he had heard her question without her actually speaking.
"Suicide." Bobby replied. He took off his gloves, he hadn't touched anything.
"Lovely." Eames said.
"The view?" Bobby replied, revealing where his thoughts were at the moment, looking out the window. He realized Eames was looking at him quizzically, she had not been referring to the view, she had been sarcastically referring to the bloody mess and the grey matter on the chair, on the floor.
"Victim is Charles London." Eames stated, and Bobby recognized the name, understanding why Major Case was involved. Charles London was a major supporter of the Mayor, was being the operative word. "I'm thinking our report will need to read a bit more than just the single word suicide." Eames stated. Bobby reached into his pocket to snap on a new pair of gloves. In order to provide some fancy details in the report, he figured he would have to actually touch a few things.
Hours later, Eames was saying, "See you tomorrow." Bobby looked over at her. She had not looked up from the report as she said the words. He nodded, thinking that since she hadn't looked up, she also didn't see him nod.
"Yeah, tomorrow." Bobby mumbled, and he headed out of the squad. He had spent the morning poking through London's business, establishing some startling details about London's personal life and a proclivity for young girls, which because of London's VIP nature would never hit the press, but did establish a pattern of events that clearly culminated in London's suicide. So, the last few hours of Bobby's day were spent typing it all up. All in a days work, Bobby rather numbly thought to himself as he headed out of the building.
He rubbed the back of his wrist against his forehead. He really was exhausted, but he knew that sleep was not exactly his friend. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, wondering what to do, head home? Head out? He had this sex thing going with an energetic CSU. He decided to head over to her place.
"Busy?" He asked, dropping by completely unannounced. She smiled up at him, her silver grey eyes sparkling with attraction.
"I am now." She reached out, pulling him into her place, kissing him hungrily. He knew that he was just sex to her as well. They had fun together, but in many essential ways they were opposites. And, in as much as some people might say that opposites attract, Bobby knew that more often than not, opposites just kind of used each other.
A few hours later, Bobby slipped out of her bed. He was still hoping to get home and try for some sleep. "I should go." He softly said the words as she kissed him, also moving out of the bed. She did not seem to mind that he was leaving. She followed him to her doorway and let him out; he could hear the locks click into place behind him.
When he got home, he let himself into his place, stopping in the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of scotch. He sat down, pouring the glass nearly to half full. He leaned his head back against the cushions, and drank a few deep swallows. He refilled the glass twice, repeating the process. After a while, he set the glass aside and lay down on his back on the couch. He could feel a nice buzzy feeling beginning to take hold of his brain. Now I lay me down to sleep. He murmured to himself, slightly drunk. After a while, he fell asleep.
AN: I guess now that the writers have reached a deal, we may get more shows this season. Which would be great. Maybe VDO will come back looking fabulous and my brain will shift back to the smoking hot Bobby in earlier seasons. Though, I do love to write angst... (and my code words to log in this morning were "overly sad")