The characters of Robert Goren, Alex Eames, and James Deakins do not belong to me

The Informant Chapter 3

Leaving Bobby's room in the ICU with Alex, Deakins said "Hold on Alex," and headed to the desk. After speaking briefly to the nurse, he picked up the phone. The only word Alex heard was "guard".

Alex had been so concerned with Bobby's condition, it never occurred to her that Bobby's assailants might strike again. "We…we can't just leave him here like this," she told Deakins.

"Alex, I've got it covered. I've got a guard outside his door twenty-four/seven. He's perfectly safe. Now I'm taking you home. Get some sleep!"

"But—"

"No 'buts'. They're going to keep Bobby sedated for some time. It's a good time for you to get some sleep, too."

Alex finally agreed, but just for a while.

"Oh my God!" Alex said, holding her head in her hands.

"What? You all right?" Deakins asked, concerned.

"Bobby's Mom? I didn't—"

"Taken care of. I called Carmel Ridge earlier today. Her doctor's going to talk to her. Now I'm taking you home. Let's go!"

Captain Deakins then dropped Alex off at her apartment, watched till she entered, then went home to the comfort of his own wife.

Alex fully intended to make a cup of hot tea, and take a long, hot bath and try to relax away the troubles of the day. Instead she plopped down exhaustedly on her couch. She couldn't get Bobby's Mom out of her mind. What must it be like to be told that someone hated your son, your child, so much that they would hurt him so badly, that they would want to kill him? She couldn't imagine.

It was sometime after midnight when Bobby first awoke to his nightmare. It was very quiet and very dark, the only light coming from just above his head. He was only partially awake, in a sort of semi-conscious state, groggy and totally disoriented. He tried to move his head but something was restricting the movement…something was jammed in his mouth and throat, preventing him from moving his head. He had no idea what it was, and was beginning to get a little panicky. He tried jerking it out with his left hand, only…that wouldn't move either. More panic. His heart rate began to rise; alarms started going off everywhere. Somehow his right hand and arm, the only part of his body he could move, started tearing at the obstruction in his throat. Within moments, a nurse came running in, followed by a rather large orderly. The orderly quickly grabbed Bobby's arm to prevent him from jerking out the ventilator, while the nurse adjusted the meds in the iv, all the while repeating "You're okay, Bobby, you're okay. You're in a hospital. You're doing fine."

Seconds later, Bobby was back asleep.

It had now been nearly two days since Bobby had been shot, and at last there was a change in his condition. He was now breathing entirely on his own and was taken off the ventilator. His official status went from "very critical" condition to "critical", and would soon be taken off the drugs to keep him sedated.

Ramon Trillo had a plan, of sorts. Part of the plan was to do away with Nicky Jackson. Jackson was just an outright liability anyway; if Goren should survive, he could no doubt identify him, and that little stoolie Jackson would give Ramon up in a second. Plus, Nicky had to pay for his mistake. Nobody who worked for Ramon Trillo made a mistake like this, not if they intended to keep on living. Then there was Goren, himself. He'd had it in for Bobby Goren for some time now, ever since Goren had shut down one of Ramon's business ventures with his brother some time ago, back when Bobby was with Narcotics. Ramon's brother was in prison over that one. And the Trillo brothers wanted a little retaliation. So with Goren closing in on Ramon's drug business, well, the shooting became all the sweeter. The only question now was how to go about it. It wouldn't be easy making a "hit" in the hospital, too many people. There had to be a way…

This time when Nicky got the call from Ramon, he was not excited or nervous. He was petrified. Ramon had said he wanted to talk, set up a new plan. New plan, my ass! Yeah, right! Although Nicky was not very bright, even he knew something was up. Now Nicky was faced with three possibilities: he could lay low for a while and then skip town. That wouldn't work, even if he laid low forever, Ramon had an even longer memory. Or he could turn himself into the police now and beg for their mercy. That also wouldn't work, he'd be admitting he shot one of their own. His third choice was he could go after Bobby Goren again and somehow make it right with Ramon. Of the three options, number three sounded best. It was actually the only option.

When Bobby awoke for the second time, he was not alone. Alex was there.

He moaned a little, and Alex sat upright. "Bobby?"

He moaned again, and slowly opened his eyes. He was still disoriented and very groggy, but no longer in a semi-conscious state. And he still had no idea of what had happened. All he knew was that his body felt like it had been hit by a Mack truck, tossed into the air, then hit again on the way down.

"Al…ex?"

Thank God! "It's about time," she told him.

Bobby managed a very slight smile. "What…happened?" he asked weakly.

"Shh, don't talk,' she told him. "I'll explain." And she told him briefly what she knew.

Bobby shifted his weight, trying to get a little comfortable. The action caused him considerable pain, and again he moaned softly.

"Bobby?" Alex said, alarmed. "Are you okay? Should I get someone?"

"I'm …okay," he said, breathing hard. "What the hell…is wrong with me?"

Alex was honest with him, all the while watching him. She could tell he was in a lot of pain. He was on painkillers, but these could only do so much. Any abdominal surgery is difficult, and Bobby's injuries had been extensive,. He also had use of just one arm, making it even harder to move. Unfortunately, the good arm was his right and Bobby was a lefty. Since his shoulder had yet to be repaired it remained a constant source of misery. Bobby was in for a pretty rough time.

Bobby closed his eyes; he was getting tired and Alex figured it was time to leave when Bobby said softly: "Nicky".

Alex could hardly hear him. "What? Bobby, I couldn't hear-"

"Nicky," he repeated sleepily. "It was Nicky."

Alex thought she still wasn't hearing him. Nicky? That pinheaded little stoolie who thought he was the best thing to happen to the NYPD? "Nicky Jackson? That Nicky!"

Bobby was drifting off again.

"Bobby!" Alex said urgently.

Bobby opened his eyes slowly and nodded ever so slightly. Then he was asleep again. Alex brushed the curls back again, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. Leaving the room, she nodded to the guard now on duty outside his door. The guard nodded back. Alex could hardly see his eyes; his hat was pulled down low. Alex hoped this guard was sharper than he looked.

Half way down the hall she remembered something she wanted to tell the guard. She turned to go back and —where the hell was he! It suddenly dawned on her, and gun drawn, she sprinted to Bobby's room. Bursting into the room she saw him, standing over Bobby, a gun shoved next to his head.

"Drop it!" Alex yelled.

The guard didn't even turn around. Alex heard the click as the gunman cocked the hammer. Not this time! And she shot him.

TBC