Academic, Scene 5
"Professor Goren." It was the cool voice of Detective Alex Eames that penetrated Bobby's brain. "Professor Goren." She said his name again, "Let him go." She commanded, referring to the strangulation hold Bobby had on Justin Kemp. "Let him go." She repeated, watching Bobby do as she asked, and Kemp kind of fell to the floor in a heap, sputtering and coughing.
"He killed her, he raped her…" Bobby croaked, his voice hoarse with grief, with anger, with raw and roiling emotion. Bobby was somewhat aware that Eames was calling for back-up and an ambulance.
"I assume your assault on Mr. Kemp was in self defense." She said, not moving to assist Kemp, standing at the end of the library aisle, looking at Bobby. At first Bobby didn't understand her. "Self-defense." She repeated the words, looking for her words to register in Bobby's mind. She watched him shake his head as if to activate coherent thought.
"Self-defense." He repeated, conveying the he understood that otherwise, when back-up arrived, he would be arrested for attacking Kemp.
"Good. If you could just step away." She said, and Bobby did as she asked and watched her walk toward Kemp, again she seemed in no particular hurry to help the coughing, barely breathing man on the floor.
"He raped her…" Bobby repeated, feeling his adrenaline abate a bit, feeling like he might throw up.
"Get up." Eames kind of kicked at Kemp with her foot. "Get up." She repeated, her weapon drawn, aimed at Kemp. Stabler and two uniformed officers arrived on scene. Bobby stepped further to the side, as Stabler squeezed down the narrow aisle of books and yanked Kemp to his feet.
"Apparently there was an altercation between Professor Goren and Mr. Kemp. Goren acted in self-defense, Kemp's apparent injuries are a result of Goren acting in self-defense." Eames smoothly supplied. "Read Kemp his rights and bring him in for the murder and rape of Lucy Jones." Eames stated to the uniforms. Bobby watched as they cuffed Kemp and started informing him of his rights.
"You know he did it..." Bobby was confused, how could the police possibly know he did it. They had only received his name just under an hour ago.
"The MEs reports are coming in. As are CSU. We will be able to lock this down in the next few hours." Eames supplied, and Stabler kind of glared at her, as if she was speaking prematurely, or out of turn.
"Eames." Stabler said, in a manner of warning.
"I'll be right there." Alex looked at her partner and reached into her pocket for her card and wrote something on the back of it as Stabler walked toward the elevator, out of hearing distance. "I wanted to give you this." She said, handing Bobby her card.
"I um, I have your card." He said, still feeling pale, feeling sick.
"Take this. I will need to be in contact with you about the altercation." She provided, and placed the card in his hand. "But, if you need me, you can reach me." She flipped the card over to reveal that she had also provided her personal phone number, and Bobby caught onto a bit of her meaning.
"Thank you." Bobby said, and remained standing in the library for a few moments while Eames went with Stabler to close the case on Kemp.
That night Bobby found himself sitting alone in his apartment. He had some papers spread out on his kitchen table, pretending like he might have the mental capacity to actually get something done. But, he was just kind of sitting there, not able to process much thought. So, he stood and went to his freezer and retrieved a bottle of very nice vodka. He was not one to ever really drink more than a beer or maybe two, but occasionally he liked the icy coldness of a nice vodka, but he rarely drank to excess. He poured a generous amount into a high ball glass and walked through his apartment.
He found himself standing in front of his bookshelves, looking at a photograph of himself with Lucy. It was a black and white taken last year. She had given it to him as a thank you for being a guest lecturer in a few of her classes when she was sick with the flu for a week. He was sitting at his desk at the university, papers piled everywhere, and she was standing behind him, her arm loosely around his shoulders, with the other arm she was making bunny ears with two fingers behind his head, smiling at the camera. She looked happy, and funny, and beautiful. He ran his thumb across the image and downed the vodka in a single smooth swallow. He kept her photograph in his hand and his glass in the other as he returned to the kitchen. He placed the framed photo on the counter and poured another generous drink.
He found himself reaching into his pocket and retrieving the business card that Alex Eames had passed him with her personal phone number. He laid that on the table among his papers. He thought about the phone number, about Alex Eames. He thought about what it would be like to dial the number, to hear her voice. He wondered if she was funny. He drank the vodka from the glass and this time he grabbed the bottle. He walked back through his apartment to look out the window at the night sky. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, drinking, thinking, and then trying not to think.
He was somewhat aware that the world was spinning. And instead of fighting the feeling, he simply closed his eyes and let it spin.
A/N: I think a more shippy creative mind could do something with the possibility of the phone number :)