ADRENALINE RUSH
Setting: end of S04/E13 Stress Position
I don't know what scared me more: the thought Bobby might be dead inside the Brooklyn prison, with me unable to reach him, or the realization that I'd experienced this exact same pit-of-the-stomach terror once before. It was when my husband lay dying in the hospital.
The feeling didn't make any sense, but I couldn't deny it. I couldn't stop it.
Bobby had gone in with Mike Logan to bring out Logan's girlfriend, Gina, who worked in the dispensary. Standing in the freezing cold outside the locked-down prison, with the alarm blaring through the darkness, my uncontrollable shivering was partly from cold and partly from fear.
It was a good thing Mr. Carver was there to lecture the guard on the other side of the fence about the power of subpoenas and his duty to let us in. I'd have had trouble unlocking the muscles of my jaw.
I tried to stop imagining Bobby laid out on the coroner's stainless steel table. I tried to convince myself that he was alive and unhurt. I told myself over and over that this was not like Joe's shooting and death. In my mind I cursed Captain Deakins for not letting me go me go in with my partner.
Finally the alarm stopped. The guard opened the gate for me and Mr. Carver, but wouldn't let us approach the building until he got the all-clear from his counterpart inside.
Everyone stopped talking. The silence was just as disturbing as the noise. What was happening in there?
I was getting ready to charge the entrance when I saw a seam of light as the heavy metal door slowly opened.
The first person to step out was Bobby! His head turned left and right until he saw me.
"Thank God!" Mr. Carver said.
I would have said the same, but I suddenly felt dizzy with relief. I spread my feet a little wider and took deep breaths, keeping my eyes on Bobby. He seemed uninjured.
The door opened further, and Mike Logan and Gina emerged. They all looked stunned but otherwise okay.
Suddenly there was a rush of EMTs and police officers toward the prison. Bobby and Logan spoke to them, pointing back inside and giving directions. Mr. Carver's entourage of attorneys flooded in next, armed with subpoenas.
I finally pulled myself together enough to move. Carver reached them first. "Detectives," Carver said, "I've never been so happy to see you. What happened in there?"
Logan answered, "It's those four guards. They've been keeping the ghost prisoners separate, torturing them. They killed Kenna to keep him from talking. Those SOBs locked the place down, and were going after Gina if we hadn't showed up – and if Goren hadn't talked them down." He put his arm around Gina.
Carver continued to question them. They confirmed what we'd hoped for before going in: three of the guards still had enough of a conscience to do the right thing. With persuasion from Bobby they'd abandoned their ringleader.
As I listened I stayed focused on Bobby. He was agitated: he looked like he needed to be pacing. That was normal for him after a tough situation; this had been tough times ten. I was sure he'd been cool and confident while he was reasoning with the thug guards. He was good at keeping all his fear or anger inside. Now that the crisis was past it was coming to the surface painfully – that was normal for any cop.
But the difference this time was that I was an emotional wreck on the inside. On the outside I hoped I was keeping it together. Once or twice I thought Bobby could see through my mask.
We all watched as the secret prisoners were escorted out, wrapped in blankets against the cold. Some of them looked like skeletons, and many were limping. Could anything make up for what had been done to them? At least they were alive, and they'd get to testify against the men who'd tortured them, who were led out in handcuffs.
Bobby was safe, but there was still a knot of stress in my chest. I needed to get alone with him so we could talk. From the way he kept looking at me, I thought he wanted the same thing.
Two minutes after Logan left with Gina, Carver's people started bringing out boxes of paper records. I figured Carver would stay and oversee the operation, but he left one of his deputies in charge and asked to come back to One PP with us.
So much for getting alone with Bobby.
"We're standing right outside your office," Mr. Carver said into his cell phone, talking to Captain Deakins. He had a finger pressed against the other ear, even though the MCS squad room was quiet at eleven o'clock at night. In fact, the place was deserted. "Albany has suddenly shown an interest in the case... Yes, and I fully expect to hear that the federal government is interested, too... Oh, I will. No question about it," he said. "I spoke to Arthur Branch, and he agrees. The prison records are on their way to his office, and that's where they'll stay... All right. I'll tell them."
Carver snapped his phone shut and looked at us. "Captain Deakins will be here in twenty minutes." He checked his watch. "I need to make sure those boxes are secure." He opened his phone again and began dialing as he wandered into one of the glass-walled visitor offices. He closed the door behind him and sat at the table.
I said, "I noticed Carver forgot to mention that Logan bolted. The Captain'll love that."
"He'll turn up." Something about the way Bobby rolled his shoulders in a tired stretch sparked off a flashback of my panicky feeling from earlier. Bobby hadn't spoken much since leaving the prison, and now I wondered if those guards had hurt him after all, and he'd been hiding it.
"Are you okay?" I asked. I didn't care that my voice sounded squeaky with worry.
"Yeah," he said with another shrug. "It's just... finally catching up to me, I guess."
His answer didn't do a thing to relieve my concerns. I quickly glanced at the office where Mr. Carver sat – he was deep in a phone discussion, off in his own world.
I caught Bobby's wrist and pulled him toward the interrogation rooms.
"Eames? What...?" He didn't resist – though by that point I had enough adrenaline in my system to overpower him if he did.
I swung open the nearest door and led him in. I didn't bother closing the door before I grabbed both of his arms. Physical touch accelerated my anxiety, and suddenly my delayed reaction was out of control.
"Did they hurt you in there? Don't lie to me!"
Bobby shook his head. "No, I told you. They were-"
I shook him. "I know what you said, but you look... you look like you're hurt. Are you? You have to tell me!"
"No, I'm not – honestly." He leaned down to look at me closely, and his hands touched my elbows. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"No, dammit, I'm not okay!" I yelled. I immediately dropped the volume on my voice, but not the intensity. "I should have been in there with you. Partners are supposed to stay together. Instead, I'm in the dark, locked out, while you..." My throat closed up.
Bobby's mouth opened, but no sound came out. I gripped his arms even tighter.
I cleared my throat and continued, "You could have been killed in there, and all I could do was stand around in with my stupid hands in my stupid pockets!" I was back to yelling.
"I didn't..." Bobby was staring at me with a shocked expression. "I, I missed having you there. Logan didn't, didn't pick up on my... you know, how we..."
I glared at him, although I knew full well it hadn't been his decision to go in with Logan.
"For a few minutes," he said slowly, and I saw he was remembering. "When the alarm... when the gate locked, for a little while it was... it was..."
"Dangerous," I said, my voice rough with emotion. "Off-the-chart dangerous, and I wasn't there to have your back, Bobby! What if it all went south? I'm supposed to..." I couldn't go on. I shook him again, hard, and my fingernails dug into his arms; even through his suit coat he had to feel their sharpness.
I knew I was going to cry. I didn't want Bobby to see me lose it, but running away would be cowardly, and with my luck I'd bump right into Carver. The best way to hide was to move even closer, so I hugged him, tilting my face downward against his chest.
His arms closed around me. For a while we were both really tense, and I simply concentrated on getting my tears under control - unsuccessfully. But then I felt the warmth of his body, and I relaxed a little. He began to rub my back and shoulders slowly, and all of a sudden I had a totally different emotional problem going on!
Instead of unstoppable fear, this time it was desire that took over my feelings.
"I'm sorry," Bobby whispered. He sounded as traumatized as I was.
Maybe I should have backed off right then, but I leaned into him even more.
How did we get to this point? I'd come frighteningly close to losing him, and this mutual comfort was a natural response to the whole situation. That was logical. I didn't analyze myself any further – I definitely didn't want to probe the comparison to my husband. No, for now I'd just enjoy the relief of having my partner back alive and well. We'd sort out the feelings later.
I patted Bobby's back, and was just getting ready to look up at him when I heard a footstep in the hallway.
Oh no.
We jumped apart, no doubt looking completely guilty. Bobby's back had been to the open doorway, so I saw first – it was Captain Deakins, and I could tell he'd seen plenty.
Damn. Hadn't Carver said twenty minutes? My face had to be a puffy, teary wreck.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the captain braced a hand on his hip, rubbed his forehead and looked down at the floor. "I'm choosing to believe this is a release of tension," he said, "or something like that. Nothing else is going to happen." He pivoted toward the squad room. "Nothing. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," we both said.
"Good." Deakins strode away. He called back to us, "My office. Now."
We stood there side by side for a few more seconds. This was my fault. I was the one who freaked out.
Bobby said, "Sorry."
"Me, too. It, umm..." I sniffled and wiped at my eyes.
He fished around in his pockets and gave me his handkerchief.
I managed a chuckle. "I can imagine how fabulous I look right now. I'd better hit the ladies' room."
I felt his fingers on my arm as I moved away. I paused – just out of reach. We couldn't take a chance on Deakins returning.
"You do," Bobby said, shuffling his feet sheepishly. "Look fabulous. All the time."
I pressed the handkerchief to my cheek. "No, don't," I said. "We can't." I ran for the ladies' room.
So much for sorting out our feelings.
.
