Fisher returned to the squad room feeling drained. He wondered about the conversation he'd had with Detective Eames. I never loved anyone more...he was the one who walked away...
In one five minute phone conversation he learned more about his detective than he had learned from Goren in a year, even if it still wasn't much. Taylor intercepted him on his way across the squad room, following him into his office. "Captain? How is Goren?"
"He was still out of it when I left, but the doctors say he'll be all right. A couple of days in the hospital and then he'll recover at home."
"I swear, I didn't know he'd been hit."
Fisher sat heavily and rubbed his eyes with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I realize that, Taylor." He shuffled through some papers on the desk. "Mendoza will be your new partner."
"Captain, I tried..."
Fisher waved his hand. "I know you did. You lasted longer than Patterson, Martinez and Potter did. Don't sweat it. I'll find someone."
He turned his attention to the work on his desk, silently dismissing Taylor. Finding a new partner for Goren was going to be the real challenge. He opened his drawer and pulled out a form to request a departmental psychological evaluation. Staring at it, he set it off to the side, deciding to visit Goren in the hospital in the next day or so. If he came away feeling as uneasy as he did now, he would submit the form. The visit would be Goren's last benefit of a doubt.
"You've got to be kidding me," Fisher sat up straighter in his chair and almost wished he had not answered the phone. His lunch now sat like a lead ball in the center of his stomach. "What happened?"
The captain looked up at the sound of a knock on his office door. Bracing the phone against his shoulder with his head, he motioned for the woman in the doorway to come in, indicating he would just be a minute. "All right, doctor. I'll see to him. Thank you for calling."
Placing the receiver back in the cradle with a frustrated slam, he looked up at his visitor and apologized. "It's been a long day. May I help you?"
"You are Captain Fisher?"
"I am. And you are...?"
"Alex Eames. We spoke yesterday."
It took a moment for him to place the name, and when he did, he rose from his chair with his hand extended. "Detective Eames...It's nice to meet you. Please sit down." As she sat, he returned to his chair and added, "Forgive my surprise. I got the impression you had washed your hands of Goren."
"I thought I had, too. My heart, and my conscience, told me otherwise."
"Just how did you know him?"
"I was his partner for seven years. How is he?"
Fisher sighed heavily. "I was on the phone with his doctor when you came in. Apparently, he left the hospital AMA this afternoon."
She rubbed her temple. "He is stubborn, I'll give him that."
"Did you know him well?"
"Yes. Better than just about anyone."
"He has been a member of this squad for the past year, and I still don't know much more than his name. His personnel file has told me more than he has." He let out a soft breath. "Tell me something. If you're no longer close, why does he have you listed as his beneficiary?"
Eames sighed, a look of deep sorrow on her face. She bit her lip and waited a moment to reply. "Because he has no one else...because that was his way of telling me that he's sorry...once it was too late." She rubbed her temple. "I can't explain him, captain. There are so many aspects to him I always simply accepted and never understood. Calling him complicated would be an understatement."
Fisher shuffled the papers on his desk. "I have never known a man so withdrawn."
"That is his primary coping mechanism. When he hurts, he withdraws, sometimes too far. That was part of what happened before he left, and I just couldn't reach him."
"Would you like to come with me to check on him?"
She nodded. "Yes, I would."
He rose to his feet. "Let's go, then."
The sound of the doorbell irritated him, but he forced himself off the couch to answer it. He had a feeling the captain would come to check on him as soon as he found out he'd checked himself out of the hospital and he wasn't wrong. Slowly, he pulled the door open. "Captain," he said by way of greeting.
"Why do you hate me, Goren?"
"Sir?"
"Why are you here? You should be in the hospital."
"There was no reason for me to stay."
"And which medical degree qualifies you to make that assessment?"
"I know how I feel."
"Forgive me for pointing out that you kind of missed the fact that you'd been shot."
Goren frowned. "No, I didn't."
Fisher shook his head. "Goren..." He sighed. "Look, I have someone with me who would like to see you."
He wasn't surprised. He knew this wasn't a social call. He gave Fisher a disapproving glare and waited, preparing himself to deal with whatever mental health professional the captain had brought with him. When she stepped into view, all he could do was stare.
When the color drained from Goren's face, Fisher's first impression was that the guy looked as though he was seeing a ghost. "Do I assume correctly that introductions are unnecessary?"
Goren didn't reply, continuing to stare at his former partner and praying he was seeing things. That only served to remind him of why he'd stopped praying years ago. "Eames..." was all he could manage.
She was deeply disturbed by the man she saw in front of her. Haggard and disheveled, he didn't look well, and it was not something she could contribute solely to his injury. He looked every bit as unkempt as he had during the final months of his mother's life and the time that had followed. It was evident to her that he was not taking care of himself...not eating right, not caring. And yet, his hair was damp from a recent shower and she caught a whiff of his soap...which sent a shiver through every part of her. He had always been a study in contrasts, never one to react to anything as a normal person would. Of course, when had Goren ever been normal?
Fisher folded his arms across his chest, an impatient gesture. He wasn't inclined to stand in the hallway all night. Goren shifted restlessly, movement the captain was very familiar with. A little color had returned to Goren's face, he noticed, but he wasn't certain what that meant. A deep frown had replaced the man's look of shock, but Fisher couldn't read him. No one unsettled him more than his rookie detective did. A seasoned cop in a rookie's skin, Goren had never made sense to him. Never.
Finally, Eames spoke. "I am not going to stand in the hallway all night, Goren. You have two choices, and only two. You can let us in or you can close the door. But I'll be fair and warn you: if you choose to close the door, that's it. I am done with you...for good. So if you never want to see me again, close the door now."
For a moment, she was afraid that was exactly what he was going to do, and honestly, it would not have surprised her one bit. He moved, grasping the doorknob in a white-knuckled grip. But he stepped back, giving silent permission for them to enter his sanctuary from the world.
She braced herself to see an apartment as disheveled as he was, but she was surprised. His living space was as neat and tidy as it had ever been. Carefully placed in bookcases around the room were his beloved books. A true librarian's son, one of the rare gifts his mother had given him was a deep and abiding love for the written word. Frances Goren's other gift to her youngest son was his insatiable thirst for knowledge. But there were few items around the room that gave it a personal feel. She was not surprised by the lack of knickknacks and adornments, but she did notice two framed pictures, both of which caught her off guard. The photo of his mother was less surprising than the other one. Crossing the room to a bookcase, she studied the face that smiled at her from a cherry wood frame. She was looking at herself. Turning to give him a puzzled look, she was met by a face that reflected more pain than she had ever seen in a human face. The ice that had her heart in its grasp melted in that moment, but she did not approach him.
He turned away, looking at his captain. "Can I get you a drink or something?"
"Do you have coffee?"
Goren nodded and walked into the kitchen. Fisher looked at Eames, who watched her former partner until he disappeared from the room. "Detective Eames?"
She turned toward the captain. Her eyes brimmed with tears which she refused to let fall. "I don't know if there's anything I can do, Captain Fisher. I have never seen him like this."
"I am going to put in a request for a psych eval."
She shrugged. "I doubt it will do any good. Right now, he's unreachable; he won't let anyone in. Have you seen him as a danger to anyone?"
Fisher shook his head. "I've had to reprimand him for his temper a few times after he roughed up suspects during confrontations. The only life he seems to be reckless with is his own, but I wouldn't call him suicidal. It just seems to me that he doesn't care."
"You said he's been through four partners?"
"Yes. They couldn't work with him. His latest partner left because he doesn't want Goren's death on his conscience."
The soft conversation faded when Goren returned. He looked at Eames. "Do you, uh, want coffee, too?"
She nodded. "That would be good."
He looked at her as though he wanted to say more, but he didn't. Turning, he walked away. Eames looked at Fisher, then crossed the living room. Stopping in the kitchen doorway, she took in the room on a quick perusal. The one thing that caught her attention was the recycling bin, and she felt the sharp sting of pity for him, which she quickly chased away, knowing how much he hated being the object of anyone's pity. But he'd turned to look at her, following her gaze, and his face became dark. She said nothing as he poured coffee into two mugs. She couldn't help wondering if the sink was clean of dishes because he had washed them or because he had not used any recently. She watched as he spooned sugar into one of the cups. He had not forgotten how she took her coffee, though that didn't surprise her.
When he handed her the richly sugared coffee, she wrapped her hands around the mug and offered a weak smile of gratitude. He didn't react, moving past her to hand Fisher the other mug. Motioning toward the furniture, Goren said, "Sit down."
It wasn't much of an invitation, Eames reflected, not missing the resentment that dripped from his voice. He did not like to be bothered when he was like this, and she didn't have to wonder how long he'd felt that way. She did wonder if he remembered how to feel any other way. He disappeared from the room again, returning with a beer bottle.
He sat in a recliner across from where she and Fisher sat, uncomfortable, on the couch. Dark, empty eyes studied them and he waited for one of them to speak. Eames knew he wouldn't start the conversation. She wasn't even certain he would contribute to it.
Fisher was looking at the same man he'd been trying to deal with for the past year; Eames was looking at the familiar face of a man she did not know. "How is your shoulder, detective?" Fisher asked, trying not to notice the dark, red area that had seeped through the bandages, still damp from the shower Fisher knew he should not have taken.
"It's all right," Goren answered in a flat tone.
"The hospital gave you something for pain, didn't they?"
Goren shook his head. "I left before they got that far."
"Detective..."
"It's fine, captain. I've been through worse."
Eames was surprised that he did not direct that last comment toward her, even if it was not her fault that he found himself in this condition. His current circumstance was a hell of his own making and she refused to take any ownership of it. A few minutes passed before she realized he was not offering her ownership of it. He knew how he'd come to be where he was. What he couldn't do was bring himself to fix it, something she alternatively understood and resented, simply because she knew him so well.
She was not surprised by his withdrawal; it was something she was very used to. She wondered, however, how much of it was fueled by the presence of his captain, given that he had gone to such great pains to hide himself from the people he worked with.
Fisher knew he was not welcome, and he stayed only long enough to be reassured that Goren actually was all right. Aspirin and beer would be his pain control, and Fisher debated calling one of the department doctors to evaluate his pain and perhaps provide something that would work better for him. He got to his feet after about twenty minutes of stilted conversation. "I am going home now. I just wanted to make sure you are all right, Goren. I'll be back tomorrow."
Goren opened his mouth to protest, but remembered that Eames was there and remained silent. He looked at the mostly empty beer bottle in his hand and gave a brief nod. Fisher was surprised, but pleased that he would not have to turn the offer into an order. Offers were something Goren rarely accepted; orders he understood. He looked at Eames. "Detective Eames? Where are you staying?"
"I don't have a room yet. I went to your office directly from the airport."
"Allow me to find a room for you, then. I..."
"I'll take care of her," Goren said suddenly.
Fisher and Eames both looked at him, surprised. The captain looked at Eames, who nodded. She was angry at Goren, and she still hurt deeply because of him and for him, but she trusted him. "I'll be fine, Captain Fisher."
Fisher did not doubt her. "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon." His eyes shifted from Eames to Goren and back. "Call me if either of you need anything."
Eames thanked him; Goren gave him a curt nod. It was more acknowledgment than Fisher usually got from him. The captain set his cup on the coffee table and left. Goren and Eames were alone, and together, for the first time in a year. She refused to be uncomfortable around him; he was uncomfortable enough for them both.
"Is there a decent motel nearby?" she asked.
He nodded. "About two miles down the road. You can take my car."
"Fine But before I go, I am going to change that bandage and you are going to eat a decent meal."
"Eames..."
"Shut up, Goren. Do you have bandages for a dressing change?"
"Bathroom."
He sat in silence as she changed the bandage on his shoulder, watching her with quiet intensity. It was a struggle for her to suppress the strong reaction she had to his scrutiny, and she was annoyed with herself that she felt that way after all that had happened between them. He slumped back into the recliner as she finished and moved away from him. "Now, dinner," she said, forcing her tone to be light as she went into the kitchen. He heard her rummaging around and he waited. After a few minutes, she came back into the living room. "Change of plan," she said. "We're going out for a decent meal...and then we'll go to the grocery store."
He sighed. "Eames..." he tried again.
"Go get a shirt on," she told him.
"I..."
"Now."
He looked at her and it crossed his mind to be stubborn, but he recognized the set of her jaw and the challenge in her eye. He refused to get into an argument so soon after being reunited with her, even if he had not planned the reunion. With a deep sigh of resignation, he got up and went down the short hallway to his bedroom.
Watching him go, Eames thought to herself, Good boy...you've taken your first steps on your journey back to the human race.
