A/N: I made a few changes to this chapter in anticipation of more story to come soon. Nothing major, I just tightened up the writing a bit, added a detail here and there. If it's better, the thanks go to squarey for her fantastic beta-sugestions.
The next two hours were a blur for Carrie. First came the uniformed officers who took her statement and retrieved Slater from the broom closet, mumbling something about witness protection. Next paramedics checked her out, re-bandaged her head and took Slater off in an ambulance. Last came a pair of detectives asking twice as many questions as the uniforms. They looked at each other a lot and made a bunch of phone calls when she showed them the financial files and told them about the missing good Samaritan.
Finally, one of the uniforms led her to a car to take her to the emergency room at St Luke's, her cut not having been judged serious enough for an ambulance. Carrie leaned against the back seat and closed her eyes. It was the first moment she'd had to collect her thoughts. Her headache continued to throb and she tried to focus on the larger questions of the day, but found her mind kept slipping back to the heated exchange right before Bobby left the apartment.
She tried to feel shocked at her behavior, practically attacking him like that over his display of male aggression, but couldn't quite work up the energy for it. It's not like danger types were her usual style or anything. Though if she were to be honest, it'd been years since she'd had much of a style at all when it came to men. Still, she was raised by the feminist generation to set more store in intelligence, honesty and sensitivity than brutish physicality. But of course she already loved him for those qualities, she rationalized. What's the harm in getting a little hot and bothered over him being an big, strong male specimen as well? As the black and white squad car surfed the green lights along the empty avenue, Carrie grinned to herself and let her mind wander like the early morning grey that crept over the city.
Bobby slipped out the service door and walked around a block he didn't recognize. The street sign on the corner announced he was on the upper west side. Though his apartment looked like Carrie's from the inside, he lived in Brooklyn. He hunched his shoulders against the early November chill, the lack of a coat making him grateful it was a windless night. Early morning, he corrected himself. He saw the coffee shop, but didn't go in. He was too restless to sit still for long. The different events of the evening clamored for his mind's attention.
Tempting as it was to focus on the feel of Carrie pressed up against him, her mouth hot and hungry under his, he deliberately set it aside for now. It had surprised him, but it shouldn't have. Life and death situations made for intense, and sometimes unpredictable reactions. If there was anyone who could understand even the darkest parts of him, of course it was her. As for his own reaction, well, he let himself go with the rationalization that the reason he didn't want to think about it was that there were more pressing problems to be dealt with.
Instead, he focused on the probability that Slater had been a medium level money launderer for the mob. If he was right about that, then Carrie was in danger from a much worse threat than a middle aged white collar criminal who would choose a TV remote as a weapon. He hoped the detectives she ended up with would know enough to keep her name under wraps and Slater in protective custody if he cut the deal Goren expected him to. Frustration that there was little he could do to ensure those measures were taken frayed at his concentration.
Information, he thought. I need access to information if I'm going to have any hope of protecting her. Hell, I don't even know the mafia families in this world. He glanced at his watch, 4:30AM. Four and a half hours until the Midtown branch of the New York Public Library opened. By that time, he should be able to get back into Carrie's apartment and research online.
Goren cut through an alley back towards where he started. Sure enough, the other end of it gave him a good view of the front of Carrie's building without being visible. Two squad cars were already parked there, and within minutes an ambulance pulled up and two EMT's headed in. He allowed himself one minute to long for a cigarette. He'd quit years ago, but had never quite gotten over regretting it. Now he smoked only when someone offered him one. The odds of that looked mighty slim to him at the moment.
He turned his mind the next question in the hierarchy of priorities. Until tonight, all he could do was mentally slip through the gaps between scenes into this world, but it'd been like out of body travel. No one in this world could see or perceive him in any way. All he could do was watch while his body stayed in his world like an anchor and seemed to stare off into space. One of the benefits of being the department oddball was that people rarely disturbed him, assuming he was contemplating some great theory of a crime.
On the other hand, Carrie crossed over to his world physically all the time. What was the difference? Well, she doesn't cross by an act of will, I have to call her. If she falls asleep on her own, she doesn't make it and dreams normal dreams instead. For her the gaps between worlds were just as she fell asleep or awoke. She didn't realize they were there... she just slipped through it following his voice. She slipped back again as she awoke.
When he came this time, he didn't have a gap... but he was hanging on to her. He must have been dragged along with her through her gap. Maybe that accounted for the violent maelstrom he experienced. So am I somehow asleep in my world? He had no evidence, but he doubted it. For one thing, he hadn't fallen asleep. Also, Carrie always had an awareness that she was dreaming. She had a sense of the tether to her sleeping body in her own world. I... don't. He blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. I'm not even close to figuring this out.
Twenty long, cold minutes later the EMT's and a couple of uniforms emerged from the building with a cuffed Slater supported between them just as two detectives pulled up in a beige sedan. One hopped in the back of the ambulance with Slater while the other talked to the uniforms who would accompany their suspect to the ER. Goren was too far away to pick up much conversation, but he did hear "St. Luke's" as the detectives headed inside, one of the uniforms riding in the ambulance and the other following in their squad car.
Blowing into his clasped hands to warm them, he dropped back into his reverie. The next question, of course, was how long would this last? Would he be able to step back to his world through a scene gap or would Carrie have to drag him back with her again. For that matter, how would she get back there herself without his voice to guide her?
If he was stuck here, he'd have to start from nothing. He had some cash in his wallet, but he doubted he had a bank account on this side. No apartment, no job, no birth certificate or social security number. He was pretty sure he could manufacture enough documentation to get by, but not enough to fool a police background check, which meant a career with the NYPD was out of the question.
He thought of his work at the Major Case Squad. For years it had been his whole purpose for being. Who was he if he wasn't chasing down bad guys? He thought of Eames. She would be alright… but he would feel like he was missing a limb without her. I wonder if she will feel the same?
A picture of his mother flashed across his mind then, but he shut it down hard. Bobby just couldn't deal with the thought of her being all alone in the world he'd left behind, never knowing why he'd abandoned her. Reflexively, he wondered if she'd notice his absence or just keep perseverating on her other missing son, Frank, but then banished that thought as well.
The sight of Carrie broke through his stormy thoughts as she walked the few steps from the door to the remaining squad car. If he stayed here, they could be together full time, a real couple. Would she want that? He studied every aspect of her for the few moments she was in view. She was all bundled up in a deep red wool coat, walking steadily without assistance. The bandage on her forehead was new and her color looked better but the tightness around her eyes told him the headache was still pretty bad. As the car pulled away and rounded the corner, he thought if he had to rebuild a life from scratch, he couldn't ask for anywhere better to start than her.
They had turned in the same direction as the ambulance, so there was an excellent chance that they were running her over to St. Luke's also. He felt an overwhelming urge to follow her. St. Luke's had one of the largest emergency departments in the city… it shouldn't be hard to blend with the crowd there. More importantly, he'd be close by if anything happened. On the other hand, the detectives would probably leave the apartment soon and he could start his internet research on the local mafia.
As he weighed the relative benefits of both courses of action, another vehicle pulled up and parked. It was a CSU van. Well, I guess those detectives were bright enough to see that this is more than a simple home invasion and assault. That was a good thing, but it meant the apartment would be occupied for at least a couple of hours. Bobby turned and jogged back down the alley, turning up the block toward the nearest subway entrance.
