Disclaimer: I do not own anything within the Law and Order universe, and I am not making a dime from any of this. If I did own them, my fiancé and I would be on an extended early honeymoon right now! The plot, themes and any OC making debuts belong to Alamo Girl, aka me!
A/N: Glad to see I have some fans back::squeal: Keep in mind that Bobby has been on an emotionally excruciating case that has been kicking his ass—so if he does some things in this chapter that Goren normally would be too controlled to do—hey, this is fan fiction and he's had a REALLY bad three months, okay? Enjoy!
"The Energy of Nothing" by Alamo Girl ©
Part 2 "Murphy's Law: Multiplied"
"There is rarely a creative man who does not pay a high price for the divine spark of his great gifts." Carl Jung
"Men fear silence as they fear solitude, because both give them a glimpse of the terror of life's nothingness." Andre Maurois
Murphy's Law states, "Anything that can go wrong… will go wrong." That is probably over simplifying it—as in actuality, one could say "If there is the slightest chance that your plans, dreams, or work-day in general, can get fucked six-ways-to-Sunday—well, you can pretty much guarantee it definitely WILL get screwed-up horribly."
At least, that's the way it seems to Bobby Goren, on this gloomy, rainy night in the ghetto of adult bookstores and flee-trap bars. Chasing Digger all over Brooklyn for three months—and having the little piss-ant slip through his famous fingers, while snorting in triumph and flicking lit cigarettes in his face—had effectively turned Goren into a seething, ranting, bear of a man, even in the squad room. He was low on energy, sleep had been almost non-existent, and on top of all that, his whirlwind mind seemed to be on chronic overload-meltdown. And when Goren had taken a moment to sit calmly down at his desk—while the other detectives and even Deakins took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat from erupting 'Mount Goren'—he would see Alex watching him, patiently. He could see the question in her eyes, "How much more of this can you take, Bobby Goren?"
Honestly, he didn't know.
The sleet was still drifting down—as though God, himself, was weeping frozen tears. They mingled with the sludge and grime of the street in front of the triple X bookstore Detective Goren had last seen his partner, Eames, standing. Goren's eyes scanned wildly around in the darkness—searching for the source of the blood-curdling scream that had pierced the silence.
The other detectives jogged up to Goren's position, Breuteli and James radioed the other two team members to go to the other end of the street, in case Orange Jacket guy had taken a short-cut behind the buildings and doubled back.
"Goren!" James tried, watching the towering hobo whip himself into a near-frenzy, "Goren, which way do ya'wanna take?"
Bobby stopped and stared at James as though the man had spontaneously grown two heads. He'd jolted Bobby out of his chaotic thought processes so suddenly, it took him a moment to register what James had said.
Then he snapped back into it… find Eames…split up…find Eames and Digger!
"Breuteli! Take the far alley closest to the bodega. The way sound bounces off these walls, it's …it's hard to tell which one…" Goren voice faded as an image of Eames—lying in a shallow grave, her throat marred by vicious strangulation marks—her eyes, open and seeing into nothingness. They seemed to scream to him—'Why couldn't you find me? Why did you let me and all the others, down?'
Bobby forcibly shook his head to banish the image; James was still watching him expectantly. "You and me James, we'll take this alley next to the bookstore."
As he and James started down the their alley, Breuteli, relishing the idea to take out on his own for once— sprinted down the sidewalk, gun drawn.
Goren, not giving the rookie a second thought, pulled out a Mag-Light and pointed the beam of light down the murky alleyway.
James lingered at the mouth of the corridor, looking back toward Breuteli's retreating form.
"Shouldn't one'a us be with the kid? This is his first bust on stakeout and…"
"If he couldn't hack it, he wouldn't be on Major Case's team, James," Goren growled, his voice low and dangerous, as he walked cautiously, looking behind boxes and dumpsters for his missing partner and praying she would just come back over the mic as if nothing was wrong.
"Besides," he muttered, "he's the least of my worries right now."
-----
"Sanity calms. Madness is more interesting." Bertrand Russell
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The smell of mold was the first thing to register in Alex's head—it bit into her nostrils, foul and rotting. That smell coupled with the thunderous pounding of her head, nearly made her stomach rebel on her.
Some great fucking detective you are Alex, my dear. You hear a scream and go farther down the dark, scary alley with no flashlight—and get cold-cocked on the back of the head.
She lifted herself up off the moldy box she fallen down on, her head spinning and her vision blurry.
"Could be worse…I could be dead," she muttered angrily under her breath.
"Just wait," murmured the icy voice of the man in the orange jacket. "I can fix that for you."
He was kneeling just off to Alex's right—bent over the prostrate body of Blondie, sprawled out on her back. Her neck was bent backward at a disgusting angle, as though her head had been twisted and wrenched like a stubborn jar lid. Digger ran his hand, almost lovingly, down her chest—over her breasts and down her stomach. Her eyes were half-lidded—sleepily gazing toward Alex. She was dead…they'd been too late.
Rage filled Alex from her toes up as she looked a round for her bag…for her gun. It was nowhere in sight. Damn it!
Digger pulled Blondie up to cradle her torso in his arms—he looked over at Alex from above the dead girl's blonde tresses.
"I didn't think you needed your bag anymore, sweet thing. You interrupted a private moment between me and Blondie here."
"There are cops crawling over every inch of this block, Digger." Alex's voice held a slight tremor of fear. She was alone, in the dark and unarmed. "There's no way in Hell you're getting outta here."
Digger slowly stood, still holding Blondie's limp body in his arms like a possessive child with their favorite doll. His smile was feral, as he looked Eames over thoroughly.
"A cop, I see. Explains the earpiece I pulled outta' your ear after I hit you. I should have known…"
Digger shook his head somewhat, then, almost in a whisper to himself, he said, "He didn't tell me about…he should have-" But he stopped himself mid sentence. Alex was staring hard at him.
After a beat, his sadistic grin returned, as if his thoughts had just shifted from past to present.
"Hmmm...an impressive trophy to add to my collection of little girls," he said.
Alex's eyes grew wide—she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat at his statement and the sick-sight of Blondie's broken neck and head lolling backward, like chicken whose neck had just been rung.
Just then, footsteps echoed down the alleyway—fast. Digger shifted the dead body in his arms, so that she would shield him somewhat. Alex lurched forward a little too quickly, causing her vision to flicker-out on her—sending her backward against the brick wall. She heard a click—the unmistakable click of a hammer being pulled back on a gun.
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Breuteli turned down the alley, running almost blindly into the darkness. He reached into his pocket for the mini-mag light, and the little beam of light that it would afford him. He trotted brashly down the alley and called for Alex.
"Detective Eames! Where are you?"
Alex could see the flashlight beam joggling down the alley, coming toward her position. Holding her spinning head, she began to sit forward again to signal the new comer. Something flipped in her gut when she heard him call her name. It wasn't Bobby. For a moment, Alex didn't know if she was happy Bobby wasn't the one barreling down this death-trap into the waiting arms of a serial killer with a gun hidden somewhere—or if she was disappointed it wasn't Bobby coming to rescue her from the shadows.
What a stupid thing to be worrying about at a time like this! She glanced at Digger, who, in the dim light cast by some lighted sign farther down the alley, looked straight into her eyes and slowly shook his head. She couldn't see where his gun was, and he was telling her not to say a word. For all she knew… said gun was pointed at her head.
Breuteli's light finally landed on Digger and Blondie, causing the kid to skid to a halt a few yards from them. He raised his gun—the muzzle trembled a bit, and Digger caught it.
"NYPD!" Breuteli shouted. "Put your hands up, NOW!"
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Goren and James were coming up the walk about to turn down the second alley, when Breuteli's distinctive voice rang out through the street and their earpieces. Goren's stomach leapt up into his throat. Was Eames alright? The kid has Digger cornered…he can't handle it alone!
Digger smiled innocently at the kid—his eyes catching the waver in the rookie's voice, the whites of his eyes.
"First time you've pulled a gun on a suspect, kid?" he asked.
Breuteli stared, "No. Let the girl go and put your hands up!"
Digger smiled wider, and Alex watched in horror as the muzzle of a silver revolver peeked out from under Blondie's arm. The body was covering Digger's movements, so the kid wouldn't see him bringing the gun to aim. It was as if sound had been muted…like hitting the 'slow' button on a DVD player, and everybody's movements become sluggish and over pronounced.
Alex watched as Breuteli turned his head to look at her—maybe checking if she was okay—her mouth opened to yell "Gun". Only her voice was drowned out by the explosion of the gun in Digger's hand. Shock and surprise filled the rookie's eyes, as he looked down at his torn-open chest—blood spilling down his jeans. He fell, and all Alex could do was watch him hit the ground—his gun falling to the side.
At that same exact moment—as if the whole thing was some gruesomely choreographed dance—Goren rounded the corner and saw Breuteli crumple to the ground.
Digger let the lifeless body of the hooker fall to the ground, like a piece of one of his disguises that had served its purpose. He turned his attention to Alex, huddled in the corner, as Goren came up beside the body of the fallen officer. He looked down at the kid, staring blankly at the blood spattered all over his chest.
He was just a kid…only a kid. His first time out with the big boys. Probably wanted to be a cop all his life.
Wait, didn't he have an older brother in Narcotics?
All these seemingly meaningless and random thoughts flooded Bobby's mind as he looked down at Breuteli—even as James' garbled screaming into his radio for an ambulance could be heard in the background. Bobby's eyes found Alex, her fear riding a current into his heart. He followed her line of sight straight to Digger—the monster who had eluded their grip for three months. The one who'd taken all those women, burying them alone in the cold earth—who'd just now, taken the life of a young officer. Bobby had sent him down this alley to his death—and his vision washed over red with rage. Blind, consuming rage. And now, the monster's sights were set on Alex… his Alex!
With slow, precise, animal grace—Goren lifted his service pistol chest level. Digger kept his gun hand down, but his eyes flicked between the small police woman pressed up against the brick wall, and the hulking beast of a cop—now aiming a nine-millimeter at his eyes. He studied Goren's eyes for a moment—and a bolt of fear jolted through his body for the first time ever.
Alex watched the agonizing slow motion spectacle—Digger made a movement, just a small one—and then thunder echoed in her ears as Goren…her partner, Robert Goren—pumped two rounds into Digger's chest. Thick, red plumes of blood and muscle burst forth from his back as the bullets ripped through him. He shuttered under the blows, then finally crumpling like a rag-doll to the ground. Alex froze—her eyes pinned to Diggers, as she watched the light go out within them.
She looked up to Bobby, who was standing stark still, staring at Digger's body. She could feel the rage pulsating off of him—it nearly made her dizzy again. His eyes were glaring from under his brows in deadly fury…but then, they softened into what could only be described as sudden confusion. She picked herself off the ground, as the sirens were heard wailing in the background.
When a call goes in that an officer is down, every cop in the Five Burroughs comes out of the woodwork. Part of the brotherhood of the boys in blue—take care of your own.
Alex edged slowly up to Goren. He was wound so tight, she feared a sudden move might set him off—and he still had his gun trained on Digger's motionless body. His breath was coming in ragged heaves, the nose of his gun trembling.
"Bobby?" Alex tried softly, watching his eyes as they began to blink rapidly. He was processing what had happened—the "on" switch had flipped the breaker back on in his mind. One slow blink later and Alex knew he was trying to regroup. She'd seen him do precisely that, too many times before—when something or someone did something that struck a blow to his inner psyche. Bobby closed his eyes for a moment; his head darted to one side, almost birdlike.
She put a hand on his massive arm, feeling the biceps taught to the snapping point.
"Bobby, it's over. It's okay…c'mon…put the gun down. A bus is on the way, they'll be here in a second." Her tone was soft, but firm. She had to get through to him—though she'd never seen him like this. Alex had to let him know she was "there". She had to bring him back to the hear-and-now.
The gun fell to his side, his gaze softening even more as he tilted his head down toward Alex.
"Are—are you okay? D-did he..hurt you?" His voice was almost child-like, soft—the shock of what he'd done still evident.
Alex rubbed the back of her head and snorted softly, "Yeah well, let's just say I won't be riding any roller-coasters for a while. I'm okay, nothing an ice pack, dozen aspirin, and a hot bubble bath won't fix."
Bobby just stared at her - no smile, no indication that anything of what she'd said had registered.
"He…hit you…" he breathed. Those eyes were staring right through her, but Alex managed not to shutter under his gaze.
"I said I'm okay, Goren," Alex said a little more firmly. Bobby still hadn't snapped together yet.
James was holding Breuteli's head in his lap, trying in vain to convince himself his young partner would be alright. Goren stood looking down at the sight—the older cop had tears running down his face—and a numbness set in on Goren's soul. He'd done this… this was his fault. Alex could almost hear Bobby's thoughts, but she didn't try to say anything.
Nothing could be said.
So they stood there, side by side like always—watching a distraught veteran cop be pulled away from his deceased partner by the paramedics.
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The street was lit up in flashing reds and blues—the ambulances, cop cars, fire trucks and not surprisingly, the press—vied for position at the mouth of the alley. Alex stood at the gate of one of the ambulances, letting a medic tend to her bruised head. All the while, her eyes stayed on her partner—who was standing off to the side, head down and arms hanging at his sides. He wasn't fidgeting, wasn't pacing or gesturing—and everyone seemed to read the signage written all over him.
"Do Not Approach".
Even the paramedics gave him one look, and reasoned it might be better for their own health if they let him be. The body bags passed by him, and his eyes never moved from the ground. Alex's heart wrenched in her chest—Bobby's anguish was unlike anything she'd felt. It was consuming!
"What the hell happened here, Alex?" Deakins' voice resonated through the din that set back in on Alex as she was snapped out of her thoughts.
She looked at him, "The hooker had been his target all along. Bobby caught on that the guy I'd bummed a cigarette off of, in the orange jacket, was Digger. I followed him… heard a scream—then it was lights out."
Deakins looked over at Goren, hard, "So he broke cover too soon—sent a rookie off, alone, down to the far end of the street with no back up?"
Alex didn't answer.
"Did Digger point his weapon at you, while Detective Goren held him at gun-point?" he asked.
"Uhh…it was a little fuzzy, what with my head nearly being cracked open," she replied dryly, "and it was dark, so I don't…"
"Yes or no, Detective. Did the perp point his gun or make any threatening gestures toward you while Goren had him at gun point?" the Captain interjected with force.
"No. He didn't aim his gun at me, but he did make a move," she answered.
Deakins said, "James stated Goren didn't ID himself as a cop or anything… he just blew the bastard away when he twitched. He said Digger didn't make a move to threaten either one of you."
Alex glared, setting her jaw. "That piece of shit snapped that hooker's neck, sir! He'd killed six other girls… that we know of! He shot Detective Breuteli right in front of me…he killed a cop! And he would'a killed me too, if Goren hadn't done something."
Deakins softened, "I know that, Alex. But when James gives his statements, and in conjunction with what the other guys heard on the radio com links, it's not gonna' look good for Bobby. He didn't ID himself, he didn't tell Digger to do anything, he just…he just shot him. The Chief of D's isn't going to like that. It's going to sound like Goren broke cover too soon, got a rookie shot and blew away a suspect—like some rogue cop or something."
Alex ran a shaky hand through her hair—she knew the Brass had just been waiting for Goren to step over the line—do something to give them cause to suspend him. They loved his arrest rates (actually, they loved the way his arrest rates made it look like they were doing their jobs really well), but she'd seen them take offence to his tactless way of letting them know politicking wasn't high on his priority lists. He didn't want to "play ball" their way, and he wasn't one to suffer fools lightly.
And Alex was very aware, that some of the things the Chief of Detectives, Deputy Mayors and the rest of the high-ranking muckity-mucks wanted the Major Case squad to over-look, were inane attempts to cover their own asses, or the asses of their high-dollar supporters. Goren simply didn't work that way. If you were dirty, it didn't matter to him who you knew in the mayor's office or what big-wig had his fingers in your pockets. But, she also knew, the Brass would come down the food-chain to get at Goren—and that meant pressure on Deakins.
She sighed, and then cocked an eyebrow up at Deakins.
"Guess this would be a bad time to mention that Digger had talked like he had an accomplice..."
Deakins' eyes were hard, granite, as he looked into Eames' weary face.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud," he said in frustration as he turned to leave. "When it rains…"
-----
After the paramedics had finished and CSU was cleaning up the scene, Deakins had asked Alex and Bobby to meet him at the office. ADA Carver was to meet them there as well, and Alex could only imagine what kind of tirade they would have to endure from his honey-smooth voice. Bobby had disappeared by the time Alex had found a car to take to the office. He must have hopped a cab or something, though no one had really seen him leave. For a man of his stature, Goren had the uncanny knack of appearing and disappearing without anyone noticing. True to his chameleon–like abilities, Robert Goren could be a huge, fidgety, awkward child—pushing suspect's personal boundaries and bending at ninety-degree angles to catch eyes. Or he could stay quietly in the background, soaking up information and cataloging it away for use at a later date. But these were only a few of the qualities Alex Eames thought made her partner one of the best detectives in New York City.
In truth, there were too many of Bobby Goren's qualities that had managed to work themselves into endearment with her—and she honestly couldn't imagine her life without him in it. She didn't want to.
As she entered the bull-pen, in the dimness of the deserted office, Alex caught sight of Bobby's familiar broad shoulders, slumped as he leaned against the window sill in Deakins' office. He was facing the window, arms spread out against the sill bracing him and his head hung down— the picture of Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Alex shivered. She'd seen that stance once before…after Nicole burrowed in like a parasite into his armor and chewed on every weakness and frailty with in him from his past. He was wrung out, spent.
Deakins was perched on the side of his desk, massaging the bridge of his nose. Carver leaned against the opposite wall—arms crossed in a defiant, unyielding fashion. Alex felt a twinge of panic—something had been decided while she'd been stuck in traffic. She watched Bobby for a moment—but he didn't move or even acknowledge her presence. But she knew he felt her near, it was just how their connection worked.
Carver broke the silence with his smooth, melodic tenor, "I'm sorry Detectives, I really wish this whole thing had gone according to plan."
"Plans change…get screwed-up when you're in the field on a stakeout, Mr. Carver," Alex snapped.
Deakins said, "The Chief of Detectives called me. The press is already banging his door down, wanting to know how the NYPD is going to handle," he paused, glancing at Goren's back, "this horrible mistake."
Alex looked down. Her head was throbbing now. "They're suspending Goren, aren't they?"
Deakins and Carver both looked at each other, then looked guiltily at the floor. Alex glared at both of them—while Deakins stood and paced around his desk running both hands through his silver hair in frustration.
"Damn it! Goren saved your life, James' and probably a hell-of-a-lot of other girls! But the Brass wants someone to pay…and…since it was Goren who was running to sting…" Deakins said, trailing off because he didn't want to finish his sentence.
"I was my fault." Bobby's voice was so low; the quietness of it nearly startled everyone in the room. Alex looked at him incredulously, although he didn't turn to face them.
"No, it was an accident! Hasn't the Chief of Detectives ever heard of people making mistakes?" She was becoming frantic. "I went down the alley after Digger! I was the cop who got knocked-out and laid-out there helpless on the ground! They should be suspending me right along with him—I put myself in unnecessary danger!"
Alex's eyes were wide with anger and fear. But it wasn't fear for herself…it was for the man at the window. The man who was but a mere pile of rubble, compared to the mountain he usually was.
"That's not the way the Deputy Mayor sees it," said Carver. "They see Goren as lead officer - responsible for his team - and he sent a rookie cop off by himself. He let the case get personal, and two people paid the price."
He wasn't just speaking about the young officer, whose bright career in law enforcement had been tragically cut short. Carver also meant the frail young woman with the honey-blonde curls. She was young, she still might've had a chance to get off the streets—be the person she was meant to be. That chance was gone now.
Alex felt like she was going insane. How could they blame Bobby for this? He didn't plan for it to go down like that! She knew, he broke cover to go after her; she deserved to get punished right along with him.
Deakins heaved a sigh that started at his toes, "I'm sorry Goren. There's nothing I can do right now… they made the choice. It's over my head."
Bobby turned slowly around to face them. Alex swallowed hard—Bobby's eyes had no light in them anymore, no spark that she'd grown to expect when she stared into those depthless orbs.
His face was somber, as he stared blankly ahead—fishing his badge out of his pocket, and his gun off his belt. He placed them on Deakins desk with a thud that seemed to echo with finality. Alex almost went to him, to do something to make him feel like he wasn't alone—to touch him and have him look into her eyes, seeing the knowledge that they would fix this together. But she stopped herself half-way—as Bobby raised his dejected eyes to hers—a look that emphatically said, "Don't."
So she pulled back, swallowing the hurt and fear.
"It's just for a couple of weeks, Goren. Just until we can get this sorted out upstairs." Deakins almost sounded pleading as he too, was disturbed by his best detective's demeanor. He'd never seen Goren shutdown like this, not even after Croyden's death.
Alex watched helplessly as Bobby walked out of the office and to the elevators—his eyes half-lidded and hopeless.
She turned on Deakins and Carver. This was too ridiculous…Bobby couldn't be suspended! She raised her hands in the air, cutting them back and forth, as though she were trying to banish the thought from her head. Finally she managed to force a thought, a sentence for her mouth—since the inconceivableness of what had just happened, muddled her brain into a stall.
Then, in almost Goren-esque fashion, she shook her head slightly and sliced the air with a hand to punctuate her point.
"This can't happen. You cannot suspend Bobby Goren from being a detective! It's all he knows! It's who he is! It cannot be taken away from him!" She almost yelled—perhaps in the hope that her words would reach the one ear that most needed the conviction that hummed in her tone.
But Goren was already on his way, into the darkness of the night…alone.
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"Everyone has a talent. What is rare is the courage to follow the talent to the dark place where it leads." Erica Jong
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TBC…..
PLEASE READ and REVIEW! Let me know what YOU THINK!
OK, I really hope that this chapter doesn't suck like a Hoover, because this was with out a doubt, the hardest chapter to get through. Trying to keep the scenario suspenseful and yet trying to figure out a way Bobby could get suspended and still have it believable…wheeew… I'm tired! Sorry for the delay too, real life didn't just step in, it busted down the door!
Next Chapter soon! Stay Tuned!