Disclaimer: Law and Order: Criminal Intent and its characters are the property of Dick Wolf, Rene Balcer, countless other writers, and Universal Television. I'm using these people's brainy creations for a bit o' fun... no harm intended.
Getting behind the wheel was unusual for Goren, but once there he didn't regret his decision. He was forced to push all thoughts from his mind and concentrate on getting Eames - and himself - to their destination in one piece. Eames sat silently in the passenger's seat, staring straight forward and maintaining her silence. 'Something Eames has always been good at' Goren thought. She was a silent woman when she felt it was necessary. The thought flickered across Goren's mind that she was upset with him, for his anger and his distance. He couldn't worry about it right now. The name beating around inside his skull was not Alex. It was Emily.
He pulled up in front of a small house. They were in Ossining, a place cases had led them before. But Goren's walk was less sure, his breathing more erratic, as they walked up the brick path to the front door. Instead of knocking, like Eames was expecting, Goren pulled out a key. "Bobby, what is this?" she broke her silence, obviously shaken.
"This, Eames, is where Emily and I... used to live," he answered. He opened the door and stepped back, motioning for Eames to go in first. Eames drew her gun, but Goren shook his head at her. "No need. No one's been here for... years." Eames reholstered her gun and walked in. The room held bookshelves, full ones, and a faint odor of cigarrette smoke, the combination of which would have made her think Bobby lived there, even if he hadn't told her. She was startled when he closed the door behind her. He stood in the entryway, looking straight ahead, composing himself. He walked down a small hallway into the house's only bedroom, Eames on his heels.
Staring around the deserted bedroom, Goren had to shut his eyes against the memories flooding up inside him, but he found he couldn't do it. The scent of peaches, a lock of brown hair, a sickeningly thick red drop...
He shuddered and opened his eyes again. He took a tentative step and sat down on the very edge of the bed's bare mattress. He turned his warm eyes on Eames, who looked eager to hear whatever he was going to say. "The last day I lived here was over 3 years ago. And, the last day I lived here was... yesterday. I come back here all the time, in my nightmares...and see the last thing anyone ever wants to see. Eames, this isn't... me... this sharing, this isn't me."
"Go ahead and stumble, Bobby. I'm listening."
He gave her a look, that needed no words to say thank you. He took a deep breath and continued, "Emily was this amazing storm that blew into my life. No one had ever touched me, and no one has since, in the way she did. And... I'm the untouchable Robert Goren. I'll quote Goethe and recall little known facts, but will I admit I loved?... I loved." He stopped, unsure of where to go, of how to go there. All he knew right now was that wandering around New York was a killer who'd once almost had his name, and still had his heart. "Eames, she killed Damon Sanders."
"How can you possibly know that?" Eames demanded. As good a detective as he was, she couldn't buy that he'd solved the crime without a shred of DNA evidence, without once interrogating a suspect.
"Eames, please. I know her. I know her."
"Let's bring her in, then, Bobby."
"How? We have no evidence. None. Less than none. The captain never wants to listen to my crazy hunches anyway, but this one is crazier than most." Eames had to agree that they didn't stand much of a chance with Deakins, or Carver for that matter.
"If you just asked her to come in, would she? As a man who once... as you say, knew her?" Eames asked reasonably, but gently, not knowing how he had loved, and lost.
"She would..." Goren answered, finishing in his head 'If I can ask her.'
Back in the SUV, Eames resumed her position as driver, while Goren sat in the passenger seat, brooding. Eames flipped on the radio, comfortable with Goren back in his natural state of brood-osity.
Getting behind the wheel was unusual for Goren, but once there he didn't regret his decision. He was forced to push all thoughts from his mind and concentrate on getting Eames - and himself - to their destination in one piece. Eames sat silently in the passenger's seat, staring straight forward and maintaining her silence. 'Something Eames has always been good at' Goren thought. She was a silent woman when she felt it was necessary. The thought flickered across Goren's mind that she was upset with him, for his anger and his distance. He couldn't worry about it right now. The name beating around inside his skull was not Alex. It was Emily.
He pulled up in front of a small house. They were in Ossining, a place cases had led them before. But Goren's walk was less sure, his breathing more erratic, as they walked up the brick path to the front door. Instead of knocking, like Eames was expecting, Goren pulled out a key. "Bobby, what is this?" she broke her silence, obviously shaken.
"This, Eames, is where Emily and I... used to live," he answered. He opened the door and stepped back, motioning for Eames to go in first. Eames drew her gun, but Goren shook his head at her. "No need. No one's been here for... years." Eames reholstered her gun and walked in. The room held bookshelves, full ones, and a faint odor of cigarrette smoke, the combination of which would have made her think Bobby lived there, even if he hadn't told her. She was startled when he closed the door behind her. He stood in the entryway, looking straight ahead, composing himself. He walked down a small hallway into the house's only bedroom, Eames on his heels.
Staring around the deserted bedroom, Goren had to shut his eyes against the memories flooding up inside him, but he found he couldn't do it. The scent of peaches, a lock of brown hair, a sickeningly thick red drop...
He shuddered and opened his eyes again. He took a tentative step and sat down on the very edge of the bed's bare mattress. He turned his warm eyes on Eames, who looked eager to hear whatever he was going to say. "The last day I lived here was over 3 years ago. And, the last day I lived here was... yesterday. I come back here all the time, in my nightmares...and see the last thing anyone ever wants to see. Eames, this isn't... me... this sharing, this isn't me."
"Go ahead and stumble, Bobby. I'm listening."
He gave her a look, that needed no words to say thank you. He took a deep breath and continued, "Emily was this amazing storm that blew into my life. No one had ever touched me, and no one has since, in the way she did. And... I'm the untouchable Robert Goren. I'll quote Goethe and recall little known facts, but will I admit I loved?... I loved." He stopped, unsure of where to go, of how to go there. All he knew right now was that wandering around New York was a killer who'd once almost had his name, and still had his heart. "Eames, she killed Damon Sanders."
"How can you possibly know that?" Eames demanded. As good a detective as he was, she couldn't buy that he'd solved the crime without a shred of DNA evidence, without once interrogating a suspect.
"Eames, please. I know her. I know her."
"Let's bring her in, then, Bobby."
"How? We have no evidence. None. Less than none. The captain never wants to listen to my crazy hunches anyway, but this one is crazier than most." Eames had to agree that they didn't stand much of a chance with Deakins, or Carver for that matter.
"If you just asked her to come in, would she? As a man who once... as you say, knew her?" Eames asked reasonably, but gently, not knowing how he had loved, and lost.
"She would..." Goren answered, finishing in his head 'If I can ask her.'
Back in the SUV, Eames resumed her position as driver, while Goren sat in the passenger seat, brooding. Eames flipped on the radio, comfortable with Goren back in his natural state of brood-osity.
