Author's Note - Just wanted to thank my two faithful reviewers; Anica106 and KendraC. Your comments mean so much to me. Thank you.
Dr. Huang met them in the corridor outside.
"I've heard stories about Detective Goren for years," he said quietly. "He's a legend in almost every precinct, half avenging angel, half boogeyman, respected, admired, even feared." He paused and glanced at the closed door behind him. "That's the only reason I haven't had him committed already, because as far as I an tell without a CAT-scan, he's completely catatonic, non-responsive, gone." He turned to Alex. "You're his partner; perhaps you should talk to him."
"What time does the sun set?" she asked, glancing at her watch. It was almost seven.
"Around seven thirty," Stabler said with a puzzled frown. "Why?" She didn't have time to explain, so she ignored the question.
"Olivia, if I'm not out of that room by twenty after, your partner has my permission to drag me out." She gave the taller woman a pointed look. "You stay away, got it?" Olivia nodded. Alex reached for the doorknob. "And you might want to consider evacuating the building before nightfall, unless you want more proof that I'm right."
Alex stepped into the cold, barren gray-green room, the pitted metal table and chairs taking up the center of the floor, a wide three by six mirror in one wall. It was nearly identical to the interrogation rooms back at One Police Plaza, except that there was no suspect in this one. Just her and her partner.
She leaned back against the closed door and just looked at him, his back to her, his head nodded forward and slightly to the right. He gave no sign that he knew she was there. In the still and quiet, she could feel the curse starting to come to life, emanating from her partner like an intoxicating smell, beckoning her closer. Slowly, she walked around to the other side of the table, using her detective skills to fight the desire growing within her, taking in each new detail as it was revealed.
His eyes were open, his hands cuffed, forearms resting on the edge of the table, hands loosely clasped. He wasn't drooling, thank God, but his face was empty, his eyes dull. Alex took a seat, the chair legs scraping across the cement floor. He didn't even twitch. She watched a moment more, fear gnawing at her like a wolf at a bone, but she clung to one shred of hope, that if anyone could retreat so far into themselves and come back, it would be her Bobby.
"I spoke with your neighbor, Katrina Anderson," Alex said, trying to keep her voice steady, professional. If Bobby was in there, and she started with, 'Hey Bobby, it's Alex. Can you hear me?' he'd resent her thinking him so fragile. "She knows that what happened wasn't your fault. I know it, and Detective Benson knows it. She's helping to try and unravel this ugly mess, but -" She sighed in frustration. "- to be honest, this is nothing we know how to handle. I doubt even you know anything about witchcraft." It was a heavy-handed attempt to draw him out and she wasn't surprised when it didn't work. Bobby Goren would not rise to such obvious bait.
She opened the file with the incubus information and pushed it over in front of him. "This is what's wrong with you," she said, "not schizophrenia. It's a curse, laid upon you by someone with knowledge of the occult and no fear of the consequences, a witch with a grudge. Tell me, Bobby, is there anyone -" The words died on her lips as the answer dawned on her. "Nicole Wallace," she whispered. It made sense, no one else hated Bobby as much as that woman and if she wasn't a witch herself, she was certainly capable of manipulating one to do her dirty work.
Alex checked her watch. Damn, ten after seven. She was running out of time. Standing up, she leaned forward over the table, speaking quietly into his ear. This close, she could feel the energy radiating from him, caressing her skin like the waves of some tropical ocean. "I know you can hear me, so stop blaming yourself and help us. I can't do this part without you." Still nothing. "It's almost dark, Bobby, and I'm not leaving this room until you talk to me." With that, she sat down and waited.
Minutes passed. He was either calling her bluff, fighting to return, or too far gone to come back. Only the last would have surprised her. She glanced at her watch again; seven eighteen. When she looked back up, he was watching her. "It's about time," she said, but couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto her face.
"You have to go, Eames," he said, his quiet, rumbling voice drawing her in closer, even though she had no trouble hearing him. She blinked and stepped back.
"Already gone," she assured him, heading for the door. As she drew abreast of him, she hesitated, then pulled her keys out of her pocket. "Hold out your hands," she instructed. He didn't deserve to be cuffed.
"Let Detective..." He seemed to have trouble without a file to reference. "Stabler do it." He was right; deep down she knew it, but she shook her head.
"Relax, Bobby, I can do this. Just hold still." She was fine as she slipped the key into the first lock, but as she turned it, her knuckles grazed the heel of his hand. The room spun, and she suddenly saw herself straddling him right there in the interrogation room, his hands cuffed behind his back, his shirt torn open as she sucked and nibbled at his right nipple.
She threw herself back against the wall, staring up into the harsh fluorescent light as she fought to distance herself from that fantasy. The door burst open and Stabler and a tall, thin man with dark, graying hair and glasses rushed in. Alex held up her hand to keep them away. "I'm fine," she said between ragged breaths. "I'm okay." Reluctantly, they withdrew into the hall.
"I'm sorry, Alex," Bobby whispered, misery etching lines into his ageless face. One side of the cuffs was loose and he absently rubbed his wrist. Her keys lay on the floor between his feet.
"It's not your fault," she said, stressing each word, trying to make him understand. There was a soft knock at the door. Time to go. She straightened up and tossed her hair back out of her eyes. "I think you can finish getting those handcuffs off yourself. I'll have Detective Stabler bring you your phone so we can talk." She had to draw a slow breath, concentrating on the air moving in and out of her lungs. It was getting harder just to be in the same room with him. "Read that," she said, pointing to the file. "I'll be next door -" She gestured to the two-way mirror. " - as long as I can be. We'll figure this out, I promise." Then she fled.
Disclaimer - Law and Order: CI and SVU, and the characters protrayed therin, are the property of Dick Wolf and Assoc., but Detective Sledge is all mine, Mwa ha ha ha! Er, ahem ... please don't sue.