Deviation from the Average

By Javawolf

Author's Note: So, I'm currently working on three stories at once, which I hope won't affect my work. If I start sliding, you may virtually slap me. Anyway, like I said with my others, I'm interested in doing a Q&A before each chapter, as I've seen it with other authors and it seems to bring a sense of closeness between readers and writers, you know? I love feeling that closeness with the writers I'm currently stalking around FF.N, and I hope to feel it with my readers. Am I making any sense?

Stocktonwood: Glad to have you! Keep reading!

Gerfan: Hullo, again! I've hooked you? Mwa ha ha ha! ahem Thanks! )

TriStateCopFan: blush I figured as much...they're cops after all. Shooting your partner is likely to get you in deep puppy-doo. I'm not very well educated in that area, but I imagined something like that would be strongly reprimanded. Ah well...in my world, reality is bent out of recognition. Thanks for letting me know, though! As for the psychological, I don't want to lecture. It is fascinating though! Schizophrenia is, in fact, a simple term for a whole line of mental disorders. The disease would be better described as 'the schizophrenias.' The symptoms are varied and ever-changing. While it's true that Bobby's case is extremely rare, I believe I can back it up. Eventually, I will explain in detail what's happening to him. You don't want to hear me rant, I won't shut up! I love psychology. I am however, only beginning my study, and can't possibly be right about everything. Don't take my word for it! P

ElizaJane: I'm with you there, I love angst. That much feeling in so few words... simply wonderful. And, as requested, the next chapter. D

Scifi-warper: Oh goodness, you sound so sad! I'm sorry! I'm afraid it is true... I hope you're enjoying it anyway.

Bammil: Hey! Yes, poor, poor Bobby... Perhaps it will all turn out in the end. Then again–

Adina-Anne: Wow! ADINA-ANNE! I love your stories! 'Everybody gets what they want.' Absolutely wonderful, thank you for writing it. You reviewed my story! My story! I'm so giggly and happy. Adina-Anne reviewed my story! I'm flattered. giggle, giggle Thank you so much!

FrostySnake: Love the name, BTW. I'm so glad you like it! With so many nice reviews, of course I have to continue! I think I'd have to be really miserable to stop, and as it is, I'm thrilled! Thank you and please keep reading.

One Police Plaza

Major Case Squad

Grim sat alone, making himself comfortable in Goren's previously empty chair. To be honest, he didn't know what he was still doing there. They had no cases, his partner had left already, and the only work he could think of doing was Eames' paperwork. And as much as he would love to do paperwork, he just didn't see what was in it for him to spend all night alone on the eleventh floor.

He thought about Eames' old partner...what was his name–Ronald. Ah well, whatever. He was better known as the legendary Goren. Grim smirked to himself. He'd heard the rumors. Guy was a freak. Always doing that twitchy-bendy act and shoving your own emotions down your throat. He shouldn't be a cop, he belonged in a loony-bin.

Grim shook his head. It wasn't enough that he was constantly getting that feeling from people, all of them comparing him to Goren. Feeling out his weaknesses, why he couldn't do the job; why he didn't belong here. But on top of that, they hadn't even been handed a case since that weirdo left. Not one.

Deakons had claimed that he needed Eames to take it easy for a while, no late nights, no rough cases. It seemed to translate into, 'That moron can't handle it, and Alex shouldn't be overworking herself, so give 'em both a break.' It was enough to make his blood boil, but Grim put on the happy grin, the abiding posture. He was well behaved. Yet he couldn't help but think, he may just do anything to be treated with a little respect around here. Anything.

Grim glanced at his watch. It had only been a few hours since Eames had gone home. But if she got to go home, why shouldn't he? With a sigh he rose from the chair and walk the short distance to Deakins' office. Quickly slicking back his dark hair and fixing his tie, he knocked softly on the door. Getting no answer he opened it a crack and peaked in to see Deakins absorbed in a telephone conversation.

"Ahem."

Deakins looked up, his first expression being one of annoyance, but clearly masking a certain sadness, or anxiety. Grim saw it clear as day, he was a Detective after all, but chose to ignore it for the time being.

"Hold on, Eames. What?" Deakins asked in a harsh tone after putting the mouth-piece of the phone to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm packin' up, chief." Grim said with mock cheerfulness, making a mental note to find out what Deakins would be talking to Eames about.

"Fine. Try to get here on time tomorrow, Grim."

Grim kept a smile on his face until he'd closed the door securely behind him. Making his way down the hall, he scowled. No respect. No respect at all.

"Sorry, Eames. Grim had to stick his nose in my office." Deakins listened for a reply. When none came, he asked hesitantly; "Alex, you okay?"

"Yeah, I just–" Deakins could hear her sniffling, as though she were trying to hold back tears. "Are you sure?" She asked in a desperate tone. "How can they be sure?"

"Alex–"

"No!" She screamed. "It's not true, Jim, it's not and you know it!"

"Sir." Deakins replied sternly. "You don't call me by my first name."

"Fine! Sir." A loud, high pitched beeping came through the receiver.

"What was that noise?" Deakins asked.

"Oh." Alex sniffed. "My popcorn. I was getting ready to watch a movie."

"You sit down and watch that movie, Alex. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Yes, sir." Eames replied. Deakins could read her tone as an apology for her outburst and he excepted it.

"You get some rest."

"I will."

Apartment of Detective Alexandra Eames

New York City

Alex hung up the phone, and wiped a tear away with the sleeve of her bathrobe. Resting suddenly didn't seem so appealing to her anymore. She needed to call him; make sure he was all right. With a shaking hand she reached for the phone, but stopped mid-action. What could she possibly say to him? She couldn't begin to imagine what he was going through.

But maybe he doesn't know yet, she thought. What if he doesn't know? What am I going to tell him? The thought poked and prodded at her, until she pulled her hand back and set it in her lap. Convinced she couldn't possibly improve matters by calling him, Alex was able to sit in silence for another minute before she picked up the phone and punched in a memorized number.

Apartment of Detective Robert Goren

New York City

Holding his head miserably in his hands, Bobby groaned loudly at the screeching telephone. After the sixth ring, he decided it wasn't going to let him wallow in peace, and with reluctance he slowly ambled to the phone. Reaching down behind the small table it sat on, Bobby pulled the wire out of the wall, leaving Alex with an automated voice telling her that her number wasn't correct.

Satisfied, he sank back into the couch, holding a pillow over his head in a feeble attempt to block out reality. He already knew what Alex had wanted to tell him, and he wasn't ready to face the fact that he had just lost his job.