Rune Alignment

Chapter 40

"I'm going to leave now," the attendant said to Eames. Eames' face was red, blotchy and wet; she was not a pretty crier. "Honey are you alright? Let me get you something."

"No, no, really. I'm fine. Just the stress building all day. Thank you, though." Eames responded.

The kind attendant looked at Eames with those eyes that had seen so much suffering and loss. "Your friend is the last surgery this evening, except for any emergencies, of course. It may be quite a while yet, until they finish. Let me get you some pillows and blankets." She walked around the corner, where the little conference room was.

Eames looked over at Bobby. He hadn't moved. I need to talk to Deakins some time tomorrow, she said to herself.

The woman returned with four pillows and a stack of blankets. "Here you are, sweetie. Do you want me to give that detective his, or do you?" She had suspected they had argued. She had seen it over and over in this room.

Eames glanced over and said, "He's upset with me. Could you?"

"I'd be glad to. You rest now. It will be different in the morning. Good night."

Eames watched that angel of a woman carry two pillows and three blankets over to Bobby. She watched him straighten up and take it all from her and set it on the chair beside him. The attendant put her hand on Bobby's shoulder and bent down to say something. Then Bobby stood up and gave the woman a hug.

"So, Detective Sledge, it seems you are the only one around this evening," Dr. Huang said.

"Yeah, we've had quite a day. You should watch the news. Get informed."

Huang watched the detective – Sledge never stopped moving, he shuffled papers, stacked folders, checked a list of some sort on a notepad. Huang wondered what this man was hiding, covering, denying, ignoring. He's going to explode if he doesn't calm down.

"Detective, what are you doing?"

"Huh?" Sledge looked over at the psychiatrist.

"Sit down. I spoke with you earlier today, said I was going to pick up the disc of messages. Said I wanted to talk with Detective Goren. Remember, before the shooting at the university?"

"Yeah, that was this morning. Let me see if I can find that for you." Sledge started looking through the papers on his desk. "I had it right here this morning, when I talked to you. . ."

"Edward, stop. I already have it. I've listened to the messages and done my assessment. The preliminary profile is ready." Huang thought, this man is nearly frantic, I don't recall him being this way; he's usually so laid back, making jokes, almost insolent. Something is really bugging him.

"Oh, ok, good. Well, Goren, Eames and Bishop are all over at Methodist General. I'm the only one here. If you want to talk with Mr. Wonderful, you need to head thata way." Sledge put both hands on the desk to push himself up.

"Sit down, please. I want to give you my assessment of the messages. If you want to hear it. I also have a narrative if you would rather read that."

Sledge had always been suspicious of shrinks. They knew stuff about you that you didn't even know yourself. They made little things into big things and always made you feel bad about your past. On the other hand, they knew things about other people and that was always interesting.

"Ok, spill it. What's with our sicko?"

"Let's eat. I'm starved."

Bishop returned with a shopping bag of food. Eames and Bobby were the only two in the waiting room; they sat on opposite sides of the room. Neither even looked at Bishop as she began unpacking food.

"Come on, you two, come and get it." Bishop looked at her colleagues and knew something had happened. She walked over to Eames, saw her red face and asked, "Alex, what happened? Is she ok? Did something happen?"

Eames shook her head and said, "The doctor told Bobby that Gleason probably wasn't going to make it. He took it really badly and . . . he, he, got upset with me."

"God, I can't leave you two alone for a minute. I'm sorry, Alex. Don't listen to anything he says right now. Bobby's not himself. Take it with a pound of salt. He won't remember half of what he's said. Let it go.

"Listen, you both need to eat something. Don't tell me you're not hungry. It's for your health. Here," Bishop walked back to the bag and took out a carton of blueberry yogurt, a plastic spoon, and a bottle of cranberry juice. "Here, this will help. Lots of natural sugar. Eat this. I'll go talk to Bobby."

"Thanks," Eames whispered.

Bishop took the shopping bag over to where Bobby sat – slouched, right ankle over left leg, hands against mouth – as before. His eyes were closed.

Bishop knew better than to touch him. "Bobby? I know you're awake. I've some food here. You have to eat something. Look at me!"

Bobby sat up, looked at her and said, "Leave me alone."

"No, goddamn it! You have to eat something before you pass out. Now stop being this piss ant brat and drink this orange juice!" Bishop unscrewed the top of the bottle and stuck it out to him. "Take it. Drink this goddamn juice, right now."

It was probably a good thing they were the only ones there.

Bobby looked at Bishop and then at the bottle of orange juice. He was so thirsty and orange juice is one of his favorites; it looked really cold. He grabbed it from her and swigged it down. The bottle was empty in three glugs.

"There, didn't that taste good? Thank you. You'll feel better. Here, have another one."

Bishop took the empty from Bobby and handed him a fresh one. Then she dug into the bag and pulled out a bag of salt and vinegar chips, a pastrami sandwich and a handful of mustard packets. "I didn't think they'd let me bring beer in here, so you'll have to do with orange juice and soda. There's a couple of apples in there, too. Now eat this shit, ok?"

"Yeah, thanks." Bobby pulled open the bag of chips and dug in.

"Let's close her up. How is she holding?"

"BP is climbing, ninety over one seven. She's weaning off the machine; she'll breathe on her own in twenty or so. Heart rate is weak and somewhat erratic, but improving. She's doing better than I would have thought."

"Good. Let's get her started on OKT2 and see where she goes from here. Move her into recovery. I'll talk with the family."

"Over here," Gavin shouted. "Look at this. I think I've found it."

Gleason jogged to where he stood and looked toward where his finger pointed. "What?" she asked.

"Over there. See it? It's right there," he shook his finger, pointing. "There."

"Gavin, I don't know what you are pointing at."

"Come on, let's get closer." She felt him take her hand and off they ran, Gavin leading her.

"It's right there. Look. Gleason, you're looking right at it. Don't you see it?"

Gleason stared, searched, swept her eyes everywhere. She saw woods, the deep green masses of leaves waving in the slight breeze. A pasture spread wide to the right, bound by a rail fence along the dirt road and a short, stone wall on the far, far end. Rows of tall corn rustled to the left. She watched the moving shadows the clouds cast on the pasture as they passed above.

Gavin watched her search. "You don't see it, do you?"

She shook her head no, "Show me. Show me where it is. Take me there."

Gavin let go of her hand and took a step back, "I've tried to take you there, so many times; tried to show you so many times. It's always been right in front of you, but you can't see it. You won't let yourself see it. Let yourself see it. It is good."

Bobby finished the sandwich and half of the chips with a can of soda. He had been hungry and now felt better; his head stopped pounding. He stood, brushed crumbs from his shirt and lap then picked up his empties and the sandwich wrapper; he took them to the tall bin against the wall. He never looked at Eames, never even thought of her. He peeked in to the shopping bag again and found two apples in the bottom and two big bottles of water. He took an apple, rubbed it on his shirt, sat and chomped away.

Bishop and Eames sat together. Bishop had gotten them yogurt, grapes, juice and bottles of water. She also had a box of cookies.

"So, the professor is really bad?" Bishop asked.

Eames just nodded.

"You said Bobby is upset with you. Did he yell at you?"

Eames took a drink of juice and said, "No. He told me to go to hell."