"I intend to make a deal with his lawyer." Carver sat next to Eames. "I was in that interrogation, too. He has more than competent representation. And a novice could put together an excellent case overnight. I don't have any doubts that Hunt will be able to file suit against both the priest that raped and tortured him and the Archdiocese for intimidating him and his family until well after the statute ran out -- that means," He cut her off from interrupting, "that the case is still valid, and can be pursued. If the offending party or parties intimidated the victim into remaining silent, which is clearly the case here, the statute is void."
Goren sat stretched out in a chair, looking out of the window in Carver's office.
"Detective Goren.. what are your thoughts?"
"I don't like it." He shrugged, and looked over at Carver, an expression of defeat on his face. "This isn't justice."
"Hunt murdered an innocent young girl. We've gotten justice for her."
"What about justice for him?"
"His lawyer will sue." Carver stood up, and smoothed his suit. "And I expect she'll win."
Late night, Eames' apartment.
Massive attack thumped from the stereo. It was a quiet bass sound. Dissolved Girl came on, and Eames sat back, she was drinking rum straight, and chasing it with a glass of orange juice over ice.
"Shame, such a shame... think I kinda lost myself again. Day, yesterday, really should be leavin', but I stay."
"Does this make me masochistic, sadistic, or narcissistic?" She smiled, slightly. Talking to herself was a habit, when she was alone and out of earshot. "What about you, Alex. What about you? You're a cop's daughter. What did you do when you rebelled as a teenager?"
"Say, say my name... I need a little love to ease the pain. Need a little love to ease the pain... It's easy to remember when it came. Cos it feels like I've been around here before. You're not my savior, but I still don't go. Feels like something that I've done before. I could fake it, but I'd still want more."
"So fucking pretty. So fucking pretty. I fucked a guy twice my age. He gave me hundreds in cash, and wanted to see me twice a week. After the third time, I lay on the bathroom floor of his penthouse and wanted to die. It wasn't shame. It wasn't ... anything. It was the nothing that killed. That's what it was," She mumbled. "It was the nothing..."
Her face had been stoic, but it trembled, and she gulped the rum, feeling it burn her throat and stomach.
"I gave up finding a real man, so I settled for the opposite extreme." Her face was calm once more. "His voice.. it was deep, but had that twinge, that New York whine to it. I cringe every time I hear a man who sounds like him." She gasped, and doubled up, holding her forehead to her knees. She let the nearly empty glass of orange juice tip, then threw it so that it shattered against the wall.
Moments, seconds, hours later, the urgent thump that wasn't the bass of Dissolved Girl on repeat.
"Doesn't want to wake the neighbors," She muttered, swaying as she stood. She opened the door and put on an inappropriately cheerful grin. "Heya, partner."
"Alex.." Goren took her in.
Her hair was messed up and she wore jeans, tight jeans, and a ribbed white undershirt, no bra. She was drunk, holding the bottle in her hand, and he had just heard a crash of something breaking. She was grinning at him, and the expression in her eyes was one he never thought he'd see in her. It was a glint, a wicked, hateful glint. One that exposed her as dangerous, and wounded. He didn't wait for her to invite him in, as he knew she would. He walked into her, pulling her into his embrace, shutting the door with his foot.
The bottle of rum, which she had fortuitously closed before rising to answer the door, thumped to the floor, and her breath came in fits and starts. Her face buried in his wide chest. He smelled like cigarettes, rain, the faint lingering scent of his cologne, and yes... liquor. His fingers found her hair and gently stroked it. He cradled her in his arms and let her lean all her weight on him.
"We're too much alike," He whispered.
She shook with every breath, her entire body trembling. He lifted her easily, and plunked himself on her couch, with her in his lap. He held her against him, and she let her forehead rest in the place between his neck and his shoulder.
"We're supposed to stop them." She spoke almost directly into his ear. "We're supposed to get the bad guys. That's the job description. We're not supposed to give up and go home. This is our fight. This is what we're supposed to do."
He froze for a moment. In that moment, he considered it. He considered what it meant to be the law, to know it, to manipulate it. To break it. He knew if he went, she would too. He was the dam, this time. He was the only thing stopping them both from doing it.
"We're too much alike, Alex." He whispered again. "That's our strength." He folded his arms around her, and held her until they both fell asleep.
Fin. Please R&R.