Blind Spot 6x1

It can be scary, y'know, when someone goes away, especially someone you love so much.

How long had it been since he said that to Enrique the underwear model? Back when the case had been grisly, but simple. And it was just Goren and Eames, the same team they'd always been, if a little grayer. And they were laughing about her instruction to keep an eye on him. And Bobby had his guilty little reunion with his old mentor Dec. And Eames was not a precious commodity and could be sent home alone at 3 am and Goren wouldn't worry.

Never again.

I've been with your partner. All night. We're having a great time. Sebastian

It had been immediate, his reaction. There had been less than a split second of numb emptiness and disbelief, after which he had rushed to the squad room with overwhelming purpose. To their credit no one, not even the new captain, had paused to consider him mad. They all knew him better than that.

Except Gage.

Eames is dead. Accept.

Impossible. He refused. He refused by detaching himself, becoming Robert Goren, still the young CID officer jumping through hoops to please his new father figure, and throwing away Bobby, the man who had long since admitted to loving his partner, who had been made a better person by her, and would never give up.

But as soon as he saw the cell phone in his pocket it all snapped. He knew which he would always prefer.

The old days are over Declan! They're over!

How many times had he assaulted the old man he used to admire? It didn't seem to matter anymore.

He just felt so lost. He couldn't grasp the ideas that were slipping through his mind. He knew they were important, they were the only thing that could bring her back, but the struggle was hopeless.

Lucky Eames was involved, because only she could save the both of them.

You look like hell.

It was so incredibly normal, and so incredibly out of place, and so incredibly her that suddenly everything melted away. Goren smiled.

But it was a lie because she would pass out in 5, possibly 4 minutes. She had a bandage around her head and a heart monitor that picked up at the sound of the curtain.

And now she was a victim. Now she wasn't his strong independent partner. She was a frightened hostage who had been subjected to psychological trauma.

There was a curtain... where he kept me. There was a young woman on the other side... screaming. He tortured her all night...

She sounded broken. Terrified. Small.

He blindfolded me. He kept me blindfolded but he took my gag off. He wanted me to scream so I didn't.

She was so brave. Made it sound so easy because it had been necessary. She had tackled it with a clear head and survived.

That's what kept you alive.

Because it sure hadn't been him. He'd barely been able to remember the timeline.

I'm sorry.

Sorry that someone so filled with beauty had almost been snuffed out. Sorry that the sound of metal curtain rings scraping together now sent her into a panic. Sorry that he couldn't save her. Sorry that it had been his influence, his mentor and his mentor's daughter, that had put her through this. Sorry he could no longer fully pull himself away, even if he wanted to. Sorry that she no longer had a choice, he would always need her around. Sorry that through all this, he still knew she could never learn just how much.

Later, after the case was closed and long after she had fallen into a drug induced sleep, he repeated the sentiment. Only this time the words were "I love you."

~*~

Eames had both been dreading and relishing her return home. It would be filled with little wonders and little nightmares. For instance, she couldn't wait to sit in her living room, pull her feet up on the easy chair and wrap herself in a blanket. But standing in the spot where Jo knocked her out... Or how she would be forced to face the empty birdcage hanging morosely without Polly. And then there was the bathroom. And Alex longed for a shower or a bath to wash the grime and memories away... but she imagined she'd be physically sick at the sound of the—

Alex shook her head as she pulled into Beachcrest. Trying to banish the haunting recollections and fantasies, she stepped out of the car and made a swift approach to her house. It helped that it was the middle of the day she'd been released. Had it been dark, she doubted she'd make it past the front door. To her credit, Eames only hesitated for a few seconds before crossing the threshold.

Whatever she was expecting... this wasn't it.

Her apartment was tidy. Considering SWAT had barged in that was impressive. There was a faint smell of bleach, probably someone cleaning up whatever blood she'd shed during the initial attack. Looking around, she found several thoughtful changes. Polly's cage and stand had been removed. There was a note on the neatly folded blanket which she ignored for the time being. Curious, and harboring a secret suspicion, Eames boldly investigated the bathroom. Sure enough, the shower curtain had been taken down.

Wearing a now much brighter demeanor, she quickly set her bath to fill and raced back to the living room. Picking up the scrap of paper, Alex quickly scanned the words.

Tried to make it feel more like home. If it's too much, you can stay with me.

Don't feel bad about calling if you need it. ~Goren

Alex gave her empty apartment a goofy grin. She really did have a remarkable mind-reading partner.

She'd get through this, because she could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and there was a lanky, ruffled, and unmistakable silhouette waiting for her.

Okay, I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I really love some of the lines in this one. Especially the I Love You line! There isn't much plot, but I feel I accurately captured their psychopathy here (bit dramatic, but hey), while doing so very poetically I might add. Feel free to puff my obviously deflated ego.

...seriously. Just click the damn button.