A small warning: the ending of this story is rated M for mush--and lots of
it.
Deakins meandered up and down the hallway, strolling absentmindedly as the crowd dispersed. The cleaning staff was bustling busily around a small team of investigators inside, folding towels, taking down the curtains, and throwing out the debris from the wreckage. A police officer bent over the bloodstains on the carpet, snipping away at the coarse red hairs, while another snapped photos.
Officer Jaime Kendrick came out and cornered Deakins near the elevators. "We've dusted every possible surface," she said. "Whoever wrecked the room did so without leaving any fingerprints. All we've got is Detective Goren's prints on the doorknob, bedcovers and suitcase. The blood on the carpet--"
"It's Goren's," Deakins interrupted sharply. "I can testify to that. He walked all over the broken glass and his feet were cut to shreds."
Officer Kendrick shook her head. "Is he... Detective Goren, is he all right?"
"I suppose he'll have to tell us when we find him, won't he?" Deakins turned away and would have stalked down the corridor if the elevator doors hadn't opened and he hadn't collided with Eames.
"Deakins!" The vivacious blonde grabbed his arm. "What's going on? The people downstairs said this was a crime scene--"
"It is," her supervisor replied grimly. "Someone entered Goren's hotel room yesterday night and completely trashed the place, without leaving any fingerprints and being noticed by a single person. Oh, and before that, Goren's apartment was torched, and before that it was ruined at least three times--the mirrors and glassware shattered, he found knives everywhere, his books were taken apart... all without leaving behind any trace of an intruder."
It was like figuring out a puzzle with a picture that didn't make any sense. Eames tried to fit the pieces together, her mind reeling from the shock. "No traces?" she managed.
"None. No fingerprints, no DNA, nothing."
Bobby. Somebody must have been targeting him-- "Where's Bo-- Goren?" she demanded.
Deakins gave her an indulgent look, a small smile quirking at the edges of his mouth, and then went serious again. "Like I said, he's missing. When we showed up at the apartment, he stepped on some broken glass from the windows and got his feet cut. I went to call an ambulance and he just... disappeared. Out the back door, probably. He left behind his cell phone..."
"I didn't need it," said a new voice, full of quiet triumph, behind them. Deakins and Eames whirled around to see Goren step off the elevator with his hands in his pockets.
"Goren--" He would later dispute who said it, Deakins or Eames, but nothing could distract him right now.
"Hey, Deakins, I called an ambulance, they're on their way. Eames, can I talk to you over here for a minute?" And before either could say a word, Goren had pulled Eames down the hallway, turned a corner, and led her into an alcove out of sight.
"Bobby, what--" Eames's protest was hushed underneath Goren's gentle hand.
"Wait," her partner said, his rough voice suddenly soft and tender. "Wait, just let me get this out before I loose my nerve or forget to say it. Alex, when you were gone these past few weeks and then when all of this happened, I--I couldn't stop missing you, thinking about you, and--and I love you, and I just wanted to say--I've been thinking about this for a long time, ever since you moved in--I was wondering if--" A deep breath, and finally, in a low tone, "Will you marry me?"
Thoroughly exasperated, Deakins was pacing impatiently up and down the hallway. He barked and growled at people streaming in and out of the hallway, glaring and grumbling to himself.
A small, quivering police officer timidly approached him. "Sir... the reports you requested..."
"Yeah, get out of here," Deakins muttered, snatching the file folder from the trembling policeman. He flipped through its contents and fished out the first page, holding it up to the ornate brass wall lamp to see better.
The page was suddenly splattered with a few drops of water, and Deakins yelped as sprays of cold water sloshed down his neck and face. The people in the hallway groaned and rushed to cover their heads, some of the chambermaids squealing as they hurriedly scurried away. The sprinklers had suddenly gone off, showering them with an explosion of water.
Deakins dodged the gushing spouts and stared up at the ceiling in bewilderment. The fire alarm wasn't going off...
There were muffled curses and shouts in the hotel chambers all along the hallway, and a few disheveled heads poked out of their doors, yelling irritably. The plumber quickly scuffled out from the bathroom in Goren's hotel room. "Sorry!" he called out loudly. "Sorry... we were fixing the pipes, and it just burst..."
Deakins might have thrown the drenched, dripping folder at the plumber's head if Goren and Eames hadn't reappeared. Both were soaking and shivering, their clothes damp with icy water. "I'll go get your suitcase, Goren," Eames offered through the clacking of her chattering teeth, darting into the hotel room.
"Goren, listen, I don't know what to do," Deakins shouted over the noise of the sprinklers. "This guy, whoever the hell he is, he's found a way to get past everything--"
"Don't worry," Goren shouted back. "He won't be around anymore."
Deakins raised his eyebrows at that, and thought about commenting on that, but decided to leave it alone. Goren was a good cop and he'd been through hell this past week and, personally, Deakins was just glad this whole stinking mess was over. Something caught his eye and he peered closely at his detective. "Goren, are you..."
Goren wiped his wet face with one hand, retreating slightly. "It's just water," he said defensively. "That's all it is."
The captain seemed about to say something, but Eames returned with Goren's suitcase in tow and the two of them entered the elevator, disappearing from his sight as the doors slid shut.
Inside the elevator cabin, the water was still sopping from their clothes and puddling on the floor, and water was still brimming in Goren's eyes. But a wide smile was on his face--a smile that Alex Eames immediately stifled with a long kiss.
Epilogue:
Goren awoke in the warm darkness as the telephone rang in the next room. He bent down to kiss Eames softly, letting his lips linger over hers, before carefully sliding out of bed and trundling quietly into the next room.
The new apartment was still unfamiliar to him in the dark, even with all of his salvaged furniture in place. He made his way over to the phone, picked up the receiver with a soft click and cradled the phone against his ear. "Hello?"
"Detective Bobby Goren?" A soft, faint voice sounded in his ear, surrounded by strange noises Goren couldn't quite place.
"Yeah, that's me. Who's this?"
The voice paused. "My name's Jonathan Goldberg."
"Jonathan--Jonathan who? I'm sorry, I--"
"No, I'm sorry, Detective. I really am. I couldn't leave for a while, but I can now... I hope you like your new apartment."
"Who--"
"I have to go now, Detective... I just wanted to apologize. Forgive me..." And the line went dead. Goren listened numbly to the sound of the dial tone as coldness settled around his spine like an icy fog.
Jonathan Goldberg--a gifted, brilliant young man, eighteen years old, majored in music at Yeshiva University. A wacky, creative young man, who mixed his own drinks, burnt his own CDs, and loved singing baritone opera as much as playing his guitar.
A young man who'd been murdered by his best friend a month ago.
Goren looked at the receiver, sitting in the crook of his palm, and couldn't stop shuddering. The trembling washed over him in waves, leaving his body limp and cold--oh, so very cold--and then, as suddenly as it had come, it stopped. His shoulders relaxed and his spine went supine.
He replaced the receiver quietly and stared at nothing for a long moment, looking out into the darkness. Sounds and sights drifted across his mind and then vanished. He held onto the silence a little longer, then turned towards the bedroom--Eames curled up beside him, her soft breath low and gentle, and sleep.
He smiled, and somewhere very far away, he knew Jonathan Goldberg smiled as well.
All done! *g* My love and gratitude to everyone who reviewed--thank you all!
Deakins meandered up and down the hallway, strolling absentmindedly as the crowd dispersed. The cleaning staff was bustling busily around a small team of investigators inside, folding towels, taking down the curtains, and throwing out the debris from the wreckage. A police officer bent over the bloodstains on the carpet, snipping away at the coarse red hairs, while another snapped photos.
Officer Jaime Kendrick came out and cornered Deakins near the elevators. "We've dusted every possible surface," she said. "Whoever wrecked the room did so without leaving any fingerprints. All we've got is Detective Goren's prints on the doorknob, bedcovers and suitcase. The blood on the carpet--"
"It's Goren's," Deakins interrupted sharply. "I can testify to that. He walked all over the broken glass and his feet were cut to shreds."
Officer Kendrick shook her head. "Is he... Detective Goren, is he all right?"
"I suppose he'll have to tell us when we find him, won't he?" Deakins turned away and would have stalked down the corridor if the elevator doors hadn't opened and he hadn't collided with Eames.
"Deakins!" The vivacious blonde grabbed his arm. "What's going on? The people downstairs said this was a crime scene--"
"It is," her supervisor replied grimly. "Someone entered Goren's hotel room yesterday night and completely trashed the place, without leaving any fingerprints and being noticed by a single person. Oh, and before that, Goren's apartment was torched, and before that it was ruined at least three times--the mirrors and glassware shattered, he found knives everywhere, his books were taken apart... all without leaving behind any trace of an intruder."
It was like figuring out a puzzle with a picture that didn't make any sense. Eames tried to fit the pieces together, her mind reeling from the shock. "No traces?" she managed.
"None. No fingerprints, no DNA, nothing."
Bobby. Somebody must have been targeting him-- "Where's Bo-- Goren?" she demanded.
Deakins gave her an indulgent look, a small smile quirking at the edges of his mouth, and then went serious again. "Like I said, he's missing. When we showed up at the apartment, he stepped on some broken glass from the windows and got his feet cut. I went to call an ambulance and he just... disappeared. Out the back door, probably. He left behind his cell phone..."
"I didn't need it," said a new voice, full of quiet triumph, behind them. Deakins and Eames whirled around to see Goren step off the elevator with his hands in his pockets.
"Goren--" He would later dispute who said it, Deakins or Eames, but nothing could distract him right now.
"Hey, Deakins, I called an ambulance, they're on their way. Eames, can I talk to you over here for a minute?" And before either could say a word, Goren had pulled Eames down the hallway, turned a corner, and led her into an alcove out of sight.
"Bobby, what--" Eames's protest was hushed underneath Goren's gentle hand.
"Wait," her partner said, his rough voice suddenly soft and tender. "Wait, just let me get this out before I loose my nerve or forget to say it. Alex, when you were gone these past few weeks and then when all of this happened, I--I couldn't stop missing you, thinking about you, and--and I love you, and I just wanted to say--I've been thinking about this for a long time, ever since you moved in--I was wondering if--" A deep breath, and finally, in a low tone, "Will you marry me?"
Thoroughly exasperated, Deakins was pacing impatiently up and down the hallway. He barked and growled at people streaming in and out of the hallway, glaring and grumbling to himself.
A small, quivering police officer timidly approached him. "Sir... the reports you requested..."
"Yeah, get out of here," Deakins muttered, snatching the file folder from the trembling policeman. He flipped through its contents and fished out the first page, holding it up to the ornate brass wall lamp to see better.
The page was suddenly splattered with a few drops of water, and Deakins yelped as sprays of cold water sloshed down his neck and face. The people in the hallway groaned and rushed to cover their heads, some of the chambermaids squealing as they hurriedly scurried away. The sprinklers had suddenly gone off, showering them with an explosion of water.
Deakins dodged the gushing spouts and stared up at the ceiling in bewilderment. The fire alarm wasn't going off...
There were muffled curses and shouts in the hotel chambers all along the hallway, and a few disheveled heads poked out of their doors, yelling irritably. The plumber quickly scuffled out from the bathroom in Goren's hotel room. "Sorry!" he called out loudly. "Sorry... we were fixing the pipes, and it just burst..."
Deakins might have thrown the drenched, dripping folder at the plumber's head if Goren and Eames hadn't reappeared. Both were soaking and shivering, their clothes damp with icy water. "I'll go get your suitcase, Goren," Eames offered through the clacking of her chattering teeth, darting into the hotel room.
"Goren, listen, I don't know what to do," Deakins shouted over the noise of the sprinklers. "This guy, whoever the hell he is, he's found a way to get past everything--"
"Don't worry," Goren shouted back. "He won't be around anymore."
Deakins raised his eyebrows at that, and thought about commenting on that, but decided to leave it alone. Goren was a good cop and he'd been through hell this past week and, personally, Deakins was just glad this whole stinking mess was over. Something caught his eye and he peered closely at his detective. "Goren, are you..."
Goren wiped his wet face with one hand, retreating slightly. "It's just water," he said defensively. "That's all it is."
The captain seemed about to say something, but Eames returned with Goren's suitcase in tow and the two of them entered the elevator, disappearing from his sight as the doors slid shut.
Inside the elevator cabin, the water was still sopping from their clothes and puddling on the floor, and water was still brimming in Goren's eyes. But a wide smile was on his face--a smile that Alex Eames immediately stifled with a long kiss.
Epilogue:
Goren awoke in the warm darkness as the telephone rang in the next room. He bent down to kiss Eames softly, letting his lips linger over hers, before carefully sliding out of bed and trundling quietly into the next room.
The new apartment was still unfamiliar to him in the dark, even with all of his salvaged furniture in place. He made his way over to the phone, picked up the receiver with a soft click and cradled the phone against his ear. "Hello?"
"Detective Bobby Goren?" A soft, faint voice sounded in his ear, surrounded by strange noises Goren couldn't quite place.
"Yeah, that's me. Who's this?"
The voice paused. "My name's Jonathan Goldberg."
"Jonathan--Jonathan who? I'm sorry, I--"
"No, I'm sorry, Detective. I really am. I couldn't leave for a while, but I can now... I hope you like your new apartment."
"Who--"
"I have to go now, Detective... I just wanted to apologize. Forgive me..." And the line went dead. Goren listened numbly to the sound of the dial tone as coldness settled around his spine like an icy fog.
Jonathan Goldberg--a gifted, brilliant young man, eighteen years old, majored in music at Yeshiva University. A wacky, creative young man, who mixed his own drinks, burnt his own CDs, and loved singing baritone opera as much as playing his guitar.
A young man who'd been murdered by his best friend a month ago.
Goren looked at the receiver, sitting in the crook of his palm, and couldn't stop shuddering. The trembling washed over him in waves, leaving his body limp and cold--oh, so very cold--and then, as suddenly as it had come, it stopped. His shoulders relaxed and his spine went supine.
He replaced the receiver quietly and stared at nothing for a long moment, looking out into the darkness. Sounds and sights drifted across his mind and then vanished. He held onto the silence a little longer, then turned towards the bedroom--Eames curled up beside him, her soft breath low and gentle, and sleep.
He smiled, and somewhere very far away, he knew Jonathan Goldberg smiled as well.
All done! *g* My love and gratitude to everyone who reviewed--thank you all!