The Known Universe
Disclaimer: None of the characters mentioned below belong to me, nor does LOCI.
Description: Eames makes a decision to be a surrogate mother for her sister's child, and then she tells Goren
Author Notes: This may be a bit tangential, but they probably aren't going to address it much on the show, so I thought I would try. It seems deserving of attention, at least to me. I hope I kept it at least a little relevant.
Also, I do briefly mention Eames' dead husband. I'm not sure if that is common knowledge. I read an interview with Kathryn Erbe (it was a tiny article in a (Chicago?) newspaper) in which she says that Eames is a widow, although they probably won't ever get around to mentioning it on the show. Just so you know that I didn't make that up.
I really appreciate everyone's feedback on my other stories. Thank you!
************************************************************************
Chapter 1.
He is the star, beautiful and brilliant. He is the star, threatening to collapse in on himself-- bent on becoming a black hole into which everything tumbles, and nothing comes out. He is the glowing body, born and reborn.
And she is the universe, expanding forever, hardly noticed but for the bright object she contains. She is the backdrop against which the star is born, explodes, and dies everyday. She is always there, but never acknowledged.
Therefore, it doesn't seem strange to her to consider her sister's proposition.
The universe is infinite. She has more than enough room for two stars.
**********************
Eames walks a fine line. Every day is more precarious than the last. Monday she is pointing a gun at someone. Tuesday she is examining bloody hand prints on a bathroom mirror. Thursday and Friday she is tracking down a killer. Saturday she is holding her partner back from the brink. And Sunday she is walking through a New York City park.
Today is Sunday. And the park is dirty with re-frozen winter.
She sits on a bench and closes her eyes, grateful for whatever semblance of nature she can find. Sickly trees behind her point their angry, knotted fingers at the sky. The grass below her is crunchy and brown. And yet she still tries to take solace in her escape from cement.
She watches people walk by, mostly kids, some couples.
Her mind wanders and she imagines what it would be like to never feel alone.
Then an image of Goren appears unbidden before her mind's eye, and she imagines what it would be like to have her life to herself.
She thinks back on the week behind her, and sees nothing but Goren. Goren sniffing a body. Goren going just a tad too far in an interrogation. Goren with his head in his hands after cracking the case that three departments couldn't.
She sees herself-- following his lead, holding him back, prodding him into action.
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.
She considers that she is like one of the park fountains that have been shut down for the winter. Drained, except for a collection of dead leaves at the bottom. Remnants of life.
It wasn't like this before she knew him. Her life was quite different. She was hard-working and dedicated, yes. But she had some separation between Detective Eames and Alexandra Eames.
She wonders that she was ever called Alex on a daily basis. The name sounds slightly foreign to her now, like a childhood nickname that only her Great-Aunt Betty still uses. Alex.
She forms the word with her mouth. Al-ex.
Then she says out loud, "Eames".
She resigns herself to it.
And as the sun goes down in the park, the chill of night runs through her body. Nothing in her life has gone as planned.
*************************
Eames sits in her living room, which she has decorated with care. Even it seems part of a former life. There are pictures of her mother, her father, her siblings.
There is one picture of her husband on the coffee table in the corner. She put it there deliberately. Out of the way, but still present.
He died almost a decade ago. Now he is a happy memory, like a best friend from elementary school. Forever preserved in youth. Someone to be recalled with love and fondness from time to time.
On another table, there is a picture of her and her father. She is 16, and wearing an atrocious blue sequined prom dress. She looks popular and pretty. Her father looks proud and still young.
Without looking in the mirror, Eames knows there are lines on her own face. Lines of experience and knowledge. And lines of exhaustion.
She looks around her home. It is an apartment-sized photo album. She wonders why she has put so many pictures up. It suddenly seems excessive.
But she doesn't wonder for very long, as a wave of loneliness hits her hard. Pictures of a former life only go so far to comfort.
Day follows day, Hour follows hour, minute follows minute. Everything changes, all the time. It's hard to keep up.
At 11:00 she settles into her bed, and sleeps in preparation for another week, when she will again become a prop in someone else's play.
*********************************
The day of the week has come when she is supposed to rein him in. Check him. Pull him back on track.
And she tries. Dear god, she tries. But today, it just isn't in her. So Goren stumbles around, humming a tune of random insights, losing valuable time while someone escapes.
He babbles incoherently. At least, she can't make out his words. Maybe someone else could. But not her, not today. So she makes phone calls, checks facts, pulls records. She does what she knows how to do; she does what she can.
He looks at her in confusion. Then he spends the rest of the day wandering aimlessly through muddled ideas and loosely connected events.
That evening she calls her sister. A younger version of herself. Eames thinks of her as the path not taken. Her sister is married, content, and unhurried. But even she has something missing from her life.
Eames has made up her mind. If she is destined to be a vessel, then she will do it on her own terms.
She agrees to become the universe for a new star.
Disclaimer: None of the characters mentioned below belong to me, nor does LOCI.
Description: Eames makes a decision to be a surrogate mother for her sister's child, and then she tells Goren
Author Notes: This may be a bit tangential, but they probably aren't going to address it much on the show, so I thought I would try. It seems deserving of attention, at least to me. I hope I kept it at least a little relevant.
Also, I do briefly mention Eames' dead husband. I'm not sure if that is common knowledge. I read an interview with Kathryn Erbe (it was a tiny article in a (Chicago?) newspaper) in which she says that Eames is a widow, although they probably won't ever get around to mentioning it on the show. Just so you know that I didn't make that up.
I really appreciate everyone's feedback on my other stories. Thank you!
************************************************************************
Chapter 1.
He is the star, beautiful and brilliant. He is the star, threatening to collapse in on himself-- bent on becoming a black hole into which everything tumbles, and nothing comes out. He is the glowing body, born and reborn.
And she is the universe, expanding forever, hardly noticed but for the bright object she contains. She is the backdrop against which the star is born, explodes, and dies everyday. She is always there, but never acknowledged.
Therefore, it doesn't seem strange to her to consider her sister's proposition.
The universe is infinite. She has more than enough room for two stars.
**********************
Eames walks a fine line. Every day is more precarious than the last. Monday she is pointing a gun at someone. Tuesday she is examining bloody hand prints on a bathroom mirror. Thursday and Friday she is tracking down a killer. Saturday she is holding her partner back from the brink. And Sunday she is walking through a New York City park.
Today is Sunday. And the park is dirty with re-frozen winter.
She sits on a bench and closes her eyes, grateful for whatever semblance of nature she can find. Sickly trees behind her point their angry, knotted fingers at the sky. The grass below her is crunchy and brown. And yet she still tries to take solace in her escape from cement.
She watches people walk by, mostly kids, some couples.
Her mind wanders and she imagines what it would be like to never feel alone.
Then an image of Goren appears unbidden before her mind's eye, and she imagines what it would be like to have her life to herself.
She thinks back on the week behind her, and sees nothing but Goren. Goren sniffing a body. Goren going just a tad too far in an interrogation. Goren with his head in his hands after cracking the case that three departments couldn't.
She sees herself-- following his lead, holding him back, prodding him into action.
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.
She considers that she is like one of the park fountains that have been shut down for the winter. Drained, except for a collection of dead leaves at the bottom. Remnants of life.
It wasn't like this before she knew him. Her life was quite different. She was hard-working and dedicated, yes. But she had some separation between Detective Eames and Alexandra Eames.
She wonders that she was ever called Alex on a daily basis. The name sounds slightly foreign to her now, like a childhood nickname that only her Great-Aunt Betty still uses. Alex.
She forms the word with her mouth. Al-ex.
Then she says out loud, "Eames".
She resigns herself to it.
And as the sun goes down in the park, the chill of night runs through her body. Nothing in her life has gone as planned.
*************************
Eames sits in her living room, which she has decorated with care. Even it seems part of a former life. There are pictures of her mother, her father, her siblings.
There is one picture of her husband on the coffee table in the corner. She put it there deliberately. Out of the way, but still present.
He died almost a decade ago. Now he is a happy memory, like a best friend from elementary school. Forever preserved in youth. Someone to be recalled with love and fondness from time to time.
On another table, there is a picture of her and her father. She is 16, and wearing an atrocious blue sequined prom dress. She looks popular and pretty. Her father looks proud and still young.
Without looking in the mirror, Eames knows there are lines on her own face. Lines of experience and knowledge. And lines of exhaustion.
She looks around her home. It is an apartment-sized photo album. She wonders why she has put so many pictures up. It suddenly seems excessive.
But she doesn't wonder for very long, as a wave of loneliness hits her hard. Pictures of a former life only go so far to comfort.
Day follows day, Hour follows hour, minute follows minute. Everything changes, all the time. It's hard to keep up.
At 11:00 she settles into her bed, and sleeps in preparation for another week, when she will again become a prop in someone else's play.
*********************************
The day of the week has come when she is supposed to rein him in. Check him. Pull him back on track.
And she tries. Dear god, she tries. But today, it just isn't in her. So Goren stumbles around, humming a tune of random insights, losing valuable time while someone escapes.
He babbles incoherently. At least, she can't make out his words. Maybe someone else could. But not her, not today. So she makes phone calls, checks facts, pulls records. She does what she knows how to do; she does what she can.
He looks at her in confusion. Then he spends the rest of the day wandering aimlessly through muddled ideas and loosely connected events.
That evening she calls her sister. A younger version of herself. Eames thinks of her as the path not taken. Her sister is married, content, and unhurried. But even she has something missing from her life.
Eames has made up her mind. If she is destined to be a vessel, then she will do it on her own terms.
She agrees to become the universe for a new star.