CHAPTER 3
More than any other method, guns turn suicide attempts into fatal tragedies.
Mike Logan knew the drill. The union rep would give her the standard "we're here to help speech" and the lawyer would pump her for information, which might substantiate a defence. He also knew that shock creates an incredible self-absorption making it impossible to focus. He wasn't surprised when the whole meeting lasted less than twenty minutes. The rep came out after the first five and the lawyer followed less than fifteen minutes later. He nodded at Logan and left the door ajar. When Eames didn't come out Logan went in.
"You done for the night?" He asked. She looked at him with watery eyes.
"I'll give you a lift home." He took her arm and pulled her standing. "Come on Eames."
She followed him passively into the hall. "You need anything from your desk?" He asked. He took the small tremble of her head as a negative. "Where are your house keys?" She looked at him blankly. "Check your pockets." He directed. She put a hand in each jacket pocket and drew out a key ring. He took it from her and slid it into his jacket. She followed him to the elevator. In the parking garage, he opened the car door and she got in. Her body was working, but her head wasn't. Automatic pilot. Later he knew she'd remember nothing of the ride home.
She didn't talk on the drive and he had nothing to say. He used the seek button to find a radio station broadcasting what he hoped was soothing music. Anytime he glanced at her, she was looking out the side window.
Mike parked in front of her house. When he got to her door, she was fumbling with the seatbelt. Finally, she found the release button and the strap slid back. She got out and stood patiently while he put the key in the front door. He went in first fumbling for a light switch. They stood awkwardly in the entryway for a moment.
She swallowed hard and tried to look him in the eye. "Thank you." she managed.
He saw her expression. "Two things" he said. "I've been where you are right now."
Her expression changed from gratitude to anger. "You killed your partner?" The sarcasm dripped.
He shook his head. "No I killed my career and your partner's not dead."
"Bobby" She said in a whisper. "He's not dead?"
Logan shook his head. "They took him to the hospital. Wheeler's checking on him. She's gonna call. OK?" Eames nodded once to indicate she understood.
"Look Eames, after what I did - He stopped without finishing. "I want your back up gun and" he continued with a lighter tone "and anything else that shoots, - starter pistol, - pea shooter - until you're past this."
"No." She shook her head.
"I want your gun." He repeated.
She shook her head again. "I'm not giving up my back up."
"Yes you are cause you're not getting me out of here until you hand it over." She stared back at him without blinking, and then walked away from him. In the kitchen, she turned on him shaking her head - resigned. She slid out a kitchen chair and put her foot on it. She pulled up her pant leg and unbuckled the small holster. Putting her foot back on the floor she un-holstered the weapon and removed the clip. She handed him the clip then cleared the single cartridge in the gun and handed him the bullet and the gun, one in each hand. Logan pocketed the gun and the ammo.
"You know where the door is." Eames waved a hand in the direction of the front door.
"Yeah, actually the second thing I didn't say yet is that I'm spending the night on your couch."
"No way." She'd said decisively.
"Actually I am. I'm here till you make an appointment with a shrink tomorrow and then we're going to the hospital."
She glared at him for a long time. He didn't flinch or change his mind and she was sure it would be ugly if she tried to toss him out. Finally, she said, "You're a son of a bitch Logan."
"Yeah you're just saying that." He grinned.
She walked away from him then. He watched her go. She went into the next room and slammed the door between them with enough force that he could hear the dishes in the cupboard rattle. He pulled off his jacket, but hadn't managed to hang it over the back of a kitchen chair before the cell phone in the pocket began to ring.
"Logan" he said. The door to Alex's bedroom opened. She stood in the doorway white faced, listening. He nodded in her direction. "Wheeler." He mouthed. "How much longer?" He said into the receiver. "Really?" -- "No not tonight. I'll bring Eames over in the morning." -- "Thanks." He closed the phone and crossed the room to her. "Come sit down before you fall over." He took her arm and sat her in a kitchen chair. He drew out another and sat on it so he could look at her.
"That was Wheeler. Goren's in surgery for another half hour or so. Word is he had on one of those lightweight vests. Bullet pierced the armour, but according to one of the ER nurses it didn't hit anything vital." Logan was grinning as he spoke. It was good news, so he was surprised at her reaction. He'd hardly stopped talking when she started to cry. "Geez Eames." He dropped an arm across her shoulder and pulled her sideways cradling her against his chest. "I forgot you were a girl."
When the tears subsided, she sat up with a jerk and ran a hand across her crumpled face. "Thanks Mike." She said in a whisper.
"No charge." He gave her a small smile.
"There's a spare bed." She said. "Top of the stairs." She pointed with a wave of her hand. "Bath's down the hall." She got up then and went back into the bedroom closing the door between them.
Thanks for reading - a couple more chapters to go. - Dix.
