13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf, Rene Balcer, and NBC, inc.
A/N: I am in some turmoil about this chapter. I have been hormonal all week, and I had a hard time restraining myself from the angst that I love and hate so much. It feels like I'm 'jumping the shark' here, but I've sat with it for three days and can't get anywhere else with it. Please tell me what you think if you are so inclined. I have received nice reviews, and am very grateful to the people who have been supporting this effort.
Sheila
Control
Chapter 11
Carver delivered the warrant at 4:30 in the morning to Logan who watching an old John Wayne movie, an empty pizza box beside him on a table. The doorman with him looked very unhappy. Logan snatched it up with a smile, and signaled to a group of uniforms Carver had brought along.
He wasted no time at the door, giving it one loud bang and yelling "Police!" When he got no response, he gestured at a young cop and the kid went at it with all he had. Logan shook his head, remembering the days when he was still young enough to treat his body like a battering ram.
The door opened and Logan moved ahead of all of them, holding his gun in both hands, moving stealthily against the wall. They headed for Jimmy's bedroom first and found the bed messed but no occupant. He swung for the kitchen and the living room, but again, there was nobody. Logan began a string of curses under his breath as he imagined another full scale Jimmy Ross search where he would ultimately spend more nights sprawled on couches and chairs getting a few minutes of sleep here and there.
He kicked in the bathroom door. Everything was quiet, but there was something about the shower curtain that made him smile. He went over and threw it back. There he lay huddled in the bottom of the shower, looking up at Logan with a look of terror on his thin features. Logan threw back his head and laughed. "Hey people! Get in here. You gotta get a look at this. Can you believe that this little piece of shit is responsible for three attempted murders on detectives? He's like a little baby lamb! Hey, anybody got a camera? I got to get pictures of this."
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Bobby snapped his cell phone shut, launched himself to his feet, and moved to her door, rubbing the sleep furiously out of his eyes. He opened it slowly, and found the woman in her bed to be a good 25 years older than he would have anticipated. Alex was seated at the window looking out on the city, a blanket wrapped tightly around her. Her head turned and she gestured for him to come over. He walked as quietly as he could past her mother snoring gently on her bed.
Speaking in hushed tones, he took a chair next to her. "Logan arrested him an hour ago. Our little psychotic was in the fetal position hiding in the shower."
She turned back to the window and grinned.
"You're looking good today."
"I'm going home."
He frowned. "Are you sure about that?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I am. It's time."
"I am so sorry about yesterday. I was taken by surprise, I think."
She put a hand up. "We both were. I didn't realize what I was expecting of you."
"I feel like I was a little boy who was fretting because he wanted to keep things the way they had always been."
She shook her head. "You're being too hard on yourself."
"No, Alex, listen." He leaned forward and surprised them both by taking her hands in his. "I was lost when you were gone, really lost."
"That's perfectly natural," she said.
"Not really, Alex. I don't have ties to people with the exception of my mother and Lewis and…you. I didn't realize how much I had come to depend on you until you were gone." He released one of her hands and patted his chest. "There was a hole here that I had never felt before…ever; not even when I lost my dad. It was…frightening and overwhelming."
She cocked her head, her forehead wrinkling as it so often did.
"You're back now and safe, and I'm trying like everything to temper those feelings. I don't want you to go back to normal. I want me to go back to normal."
"I don't understand exactly what you're saying."
He let out a breath. "Alex, there is only about a 2 chance this is going to come out right."
"Come on, big guy. Give it a shot."
"I guess I'm a little over…uh, attached…or obsessed with you right now."
She blinked and sat back. "Uh, Bobby, I don't know what to—"
"No, no, no. Please give me a little space to find the right words."
She looked at him warily.
"You're electric to me right now. Every time I see you, I feel such intensity of emotion—"
"Like relief, right?"
"Yes, and anger at myself and guilt and…more, much more."
Her eyes widened. "Bobby, are you saying what I think you're saying?"
Her mother stirred on the bed, and they both froze until she settled back into her breathing again.
He grabbed both of her hands tightly and hissed. "No! I'm not…I mean, the truth is that I am…or better yet, I'm infatuated with you. It happened when I found you and before when you were missing, there was a realization...I don't know…I guess I never really understood how much you meant to me. Finding you was such a moment of profound blessing, and I never wanted to let you go and everything about you felt so perfect and…"
"You're in love with me."
His eyes searched the walls behind her. "Yes, of course, I love you. You're very important to me."
She shook her head. "Come on, Bobby. You're in love with me."
He sank back into his chair letting go of her hands and placing them on his head. "With each passing minute, I dig a deeper hole for myself. I can't seem to get a handle on this."
"Bobby, I'm teasing. It's okay. In fact, it's probably the first thing I have understood coming out of your mouth since you found me. It's a much better explanation than what I was thinking about you before."
He frowned deeply. "Your reaction here is confusing me."
She leaned toward him. "Bobby, I know what you're feeling. I feel it too. The big, strong Bobby Goren coming to my rescue: devoted, sensitive, handsome. Of course, I feel those things, I've felt them before, but I know not to trust them. I know that you and I will look back on this 6 months—no, 3 months from now, and be happy that we kept our cool. We're vulnerable, more vulnerable than we have ever been with each other. It was bound to happen. We just have to wait for the dust to clear and we'll be fine."
"You're very certain of this?"
"God gave me a lot of pragmatism. It comes in handy every now and again. Now go home, take a shower, and get some real sleep. I'll call you when I get home just to let you know I'm okay." She smiled and pulled the blanket around her again.
"Latinka's funeral is tomorrow. Are you going?" Bobby asked when he got to the door.
"Of course."
"Let me take you."
"Really? You're not afraid of my animal magnetism."
He grinned. "It's out on the table. I think the two of us can handle it now. Plus, I want to be there with you, for you."
She shrugged. "Okay. We're taking my mother, you know?"
"It would be my pleasure," he said as he backed out of the room.
She smiled until the door closed behind him and then she turned her attention back to the window, the sun rising in the morning sky. She heard some rustling behind her and then a voice, "Do you actually believe your own lies, Alexandra?"
Alex took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Go back to sleep, Mom. Please."
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Eames let him drive. In spite of everything, it was still a surprise. The few times she had driven with him in the past, she had taken to gripping the dashboard and hissing expletives under her breath. Goren was a man too deeply distracted by the thoughts in his head to be a good driver. He took a couple of curbs at corners before she had absolutely had enough, and had declared a moratorium on his ever touching a steering wheel again.
Alex sat in the back alone. She insisted, pushing her mother bodily into the front passenger seat. She mumbled something to her mother about keeping Bobby focused before shutting the door on her. Mary Eames took an opportunity when she saw one. She was a retired English teacher, and soon had Bobby interested in her interpretations of Thoreau's Walden Pond and Whitman's Leaves of Grass. Alex welcomed the respite, and was barely conscious of the passages they were reciting to one another from memory.
A strangeness had settled in her gut. She was traveling through country where she had spent a total of six weeks, and yet she had no memories other than the terror that was Jimmy Ross. He had probably driven her up this very highway when he first captured her, but she would never have a memory of it. She tried hard to dredge up memories of Latinka Pomoravlje other than the time she met her at the diner as Lisa Polacek, but she couldn't make out much more than vague images of a woman talking to her, telling her she was going to help her. Even then, Alex wasn't sure which images were Latinka and which were her mother, Magda. Once Jimmy had given up on her, the drugs he had administered became too strong for lucid thoughts.
Latinka had probably been only a couple years younger than Alex. She remembered how thin and tired she had looked at the diner when they had first met, and how surprised she had been to find out that Latinka was younger. Consciously or unconsciously, this worn young woman had traded her life for Alex, and the enormity of such a gift felt overwhelming to her.
Something akin to panic rose up in her as Bobby eased the SUV into the parking lot of an old Catholic church. Alex tensed as she warred with the feelings inside her. Bobby opened the door for her, but she could barely look in his direction as she got out. Her mother came around, and held her hand. Alex looked up to find a large crowd of people milling about on the church steps. She found this surprising because Magda had told Carolyn that she and Latinka had almost no family or acquaintances.
As they grew closer, she began to recognize people. There were detectives, most of whom were from the Major Case squad. Then kids starting running in her direction, and the Eames clan emerged out of the crowd; all of them. She looked at her mother in confusion. Mary Eames leaned over and whispered in her ear, "They may not have known Latinka, but they are all grateful to her for your life. It's fitting that they honor her."
Alex wanted nothing more than to turn around and head back to the SUV. She would take the keys from Bobby and go away somewhere she could sit alone and have the privacy of her emotions. Bobby seemed to sense her anxiety and he wrapped an arm protectively across her shoulders saying softly, "Magda's at the top of the steps."
Alex nodded as this was the only communication left in her arsenal. She had eyes for no one as she climbed the steps, and her family and friends gave her space they sensed she needed. The tiny woman at the top looked more wizened than what Alex remembered, and for a moment, she wondered if this was a trick, but when the woman reached out for Alex, it was the same warm smell, and Alex allowed herself to be pulled into an embrace. Magda sobbed into her shoulder and Alex squeezed her eyes shut, memories of fear and confusion a cacophony on her soul.
Carolyn appeared behind Magda and gently put her hands on her shoulders. Barek was in all black with beautiful black lace on her head, reminding Alex of all things old and European.
With tears in her eyes, Mary Eames stepped in and introduced herself to Magda. She began talking to Magda in hushed tones, and soon they were in an embrace that only the mothers of daughters could understand. Mary wrapped her arm around her waist, and together the two mothers followed Carolyn into the church.
Alex stood as still as a statue, looking at nothing. She felt everything as if she was tied up again, alone in a room, waiting for her attacker. She choked on the only cry of help she knew, "Bobby."
He was there, arms around her protectively. "You need some place quiet." Without another word, he ushered her into the church. It was ornate and dark, the visage of St. Constantine staring at them as they entered. He found stairs and led her up to a small balcony, holding nothing but pews and an impossibly old organ. He found a pew in the corner and sat her down. "Is it too much for you to be here?"
"I have to be here," she said, fighting the emotions rising in her throat. "It's just that I can feel everything."
"There's a time for that and there's a time. No one wants you to suffer. We'd understand. Magda would understand."
"I can't remember her face. I never knew who was helping me." Words came out staccato as she lost her battle with emotion.
"Its enough that you know now." He stood up and lifted her to her feet. "Come on."
At the bottom of the stairs stood Johnny Eames. Bobby nodded and said, "She needs some fresh air. I'm going to take her for a drive."
Alex saw her father through her tears. "I'm sorry, Dad."
He smiled at her. "Baby, why do you think we're here? We're your representatives. We got this covered. We know what that woman did for you. We'll take good care of her. You just go."
He drove and she sobbed. At first, she protested such an arrangement, telling him that he shouldn't have to see her like that. She told him to drop her off at a motel, and come back for her in a few hours. He shook his head and kept driving. "Not a chance, Eames. This is something I get to do for you. Cry all you want. Hell, I like crying. I'll probably be disappointed when you stop."
She choked on a laugh, and leaned back in her seat letting the tears fall as they were intended. She let him drive and she cried, her face pressed into the passenger's side window. Bobby didn't say a word. He just drove the highways of upstate New York. Eventually, her breathing calmed and her eyes grew heavy against the glass.
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It was dark when she woke, and they were still driving. She shifted and Bobby looked over at her and smiled. She sat up, and noted the signs going by. "Bobby, do you know where you're going?"
"Believe it or not, I do."
She squinted as they passed a mileage sign. "We couldn't possibly be in Massachusetts, could we? I mean, you are reading the signs."
"Yeah, we're in Massachusetts."
She leaned forward and started searching the glove box for a map. "Okay, let me get a map. I'll get us turned around in just a minute."
He chuckled. "It's okay. I know where I'm going. There's a fantastic Italian restaurant right outside Hyannis Port. We have reservations."
"Are you crazy? Bobby, this is hours out of our way."
"I know."
"What is going on?"
He shrugged. "You were sleeping and I was driving. And I got to thinking about this great place on the Cape where the view is spectacular and the food is amazing, and I hadn't been there for years. And I figured that after all we've been through, it would be nice to really treat ourselves."
"So we're off to Cape Cod?" She was leaning sideways, staring at him.
"Well, just for the night. I thought we'd have a nice meal, get some rest, and then tomorrow, I'll show you the sights before we head back."
She rubbed at her sleep filled eyes. "Bobby, we just had a conversation yesterday that would indicate that all of this…extra-curricular activity is not recommended."
"I know, but when I was thinking about this, the pragmatist was sleeping, leaving the idealist alone to his own devices. And I decided that we needed some special, and I wanted to do this for you. And as for our conversation of yesterday, we're big kids now and we know what we're doing. I would never take advantage. This is about rest and relaxation and rejuvenation; nothing more."
She screwed up her face. "Cape Cod? I didn't know…I didn't think you were…"
He shrugged. "In college, I flirted with pretension. Was on the rowing team. Dated girls with pedigrees. Tried to fit in with people who had too much money. It got boring. I do remember the beauty of the Cape though; figured you'd enjoy it."
She looked down at herself. "All I have for this is a funeral dress and a puffy face."
"You look fine to me. Besides these places are used to a slightly dour look in its patrons."
She dropped her head back onto the seat. "People are going to wonder what happened to us."
He glanced at her. "I may be an idealist, but I'm not stupid. I called Deakins and your mother. Everything is fine. In fact, your mother thought this was a wonderful idea."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll bet she did."
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Alex disappeared into one room, and then emerged with a frown on her face. She spotted another room and headed for it. When she came out, she put her hands on her hips, "Bobby, this place is expensive!"
"Out here, they all are."
"You got a suite, two bedrooms and a living room. I don't have my credit card with me, but we gotta share the cost on this. It's got to be $600 a night here."
He smiled. "Just calm down, Eames. Everything's taken care of. I got a discount. Promise."
She looked around the room once more and squeezed her eyes shut. "All right. I have to stop fussing, and just enjoy myself."
"That's the Eames I know." He took his jacket off and wrestled with his tie while settling into one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room. "I'm stuffed. I'm going to be thinking about that linguine with red clam sauce for some time to come."
She found a chair and curled up. She had shed her jacket and jewelry, and all that was left was a simple black shift and a face scrubbed clean of make-up. She looked like she was about 12 years old. "It was a nice dinner, Bobby. I really liked it."
He leaned forward. "Well, we could watch a movie. What do you want to do?"
She shrugged. "I'm tired and I'm the one who slept all afternoon. You must be exhausted. How about the entertainment for this evening be that we both get more sleep than either of us has had in months."
He sighed. "That's a good plan, Eames. I'm definitely in favor." He got up and headed for a bedroom. At the door, he turned. "If you need anything, just call. Okay?"
"Yeah, Goren, I'll let you know, but I got to tell you, there's not much mystery to sleeping. I'm pretty sure I'll be just fine."
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It wasn't clear what time it was when he heard the screaming. In nothing but his boxers, he was out of bed and through the living room to the other bedroom. Alex was sitting upright in the bed, arms around her waist and shaking. She grimaced at him. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm sorry. I had a nightmare and woke up, but I didn't remember where I was. I got startled is all."
He sat down on the bed beside her and put a hand on her quivering arm. "Let me help."
She snorted. "Come on, Bobby. There's not much you can do. Sitting there like you are; we've crossed about nine layers of boundaries here."
"I'm not leaving."
"And I'm not about to be the victim of your misplaced angst."
Bobby stood up, the hurt evident on his face.
She shook her head. "You don't know what you want. I can't deal with that. I'm different. I know what I want. I know what I feel."
He cocked his head. "I'm just trying to help."
"Bobby, you should see yourself. Your head moves to the right when you talk about this. Same thing happened when we had that conversation in my hospital room. You taught me what that meant. You're accessing your right brain; you're lying or at least not telling me what you really think. You still don't know what it is you're trying to say to me."
He moved to a chair across from her bed and sat down, his hands folded in front of him. The first couple of times he started to speak, he abruptly stopped and shook his head. Finally he looked up. "You were eight months pregnant and crabby. One day you were sitting across from me, and the baby started to kick. I had learned not to be alarmed every time you gasped so I tried to focus on my paperwork. Then you said, "Goren, get over here." And I thought, "Oh, hell, what now." So I get to you and you say, "Want to feel him kick?" You didn't even wait for a response. You just took my hand and planted it on that impossibly round belly of yours, and I know I wasn't going anywhere 'cause you had your hand over mine, guiding it to the right spot. Lewis told me his sister always used to do that when she was pregnant, and how he never really felt anything, but he would always say that he did so she wouldn't be disappointed. That's what was happening for me 'cause I didn't think I was feeling a thing, and I was about tell you I felt it anyway when the little guy gave me a nice solid kick. A feeling went through me like nothing I can describe, and it wasn't just about the baby. I had this rush of emotion, wishing this baby was mine; wishing you were mine. You want to tell me that this was born out of the moment, but the truth is that it never went away. I hated when you were gone on maternity leave. And when you were taken…well, I've already tried to express what that felt like. Alex, I haven't lied to you. Not really. The only thing I haven't really expressed is that this is not born of circumstance and this is not going away. I have contented myself with what we have had for a long time, but a sense of urgency or something has kicked in. Life is precious and fragile and fleeting, and I don't feel like pretending anymore."
He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. "Alex, I know this is awkward, but I'm trying. I really am. I don't want to ruin anything. I just want you in my life."
She sat there for a long time silent, her eyes focused on the hands in her lap.
Bobby got up. "I'm glad I said it. Really I am. It's taken me so long to even know what it was that was happening inside me. I'll let you sleep. If you have another dream, and you need to talk, just let me know."
Bobby climbed into his own bed and leaned back into the cool linen sheets. In spite of everything, he did feel better. It was as much a confession to himself as it was for her. It was relief to finally articulate the energy that had been living in him for so long.
A shadow darkened his doorway and he looked up. She stood there in a tourist t-shirt she had picked up at the front desk. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
He sat up in bed.
"I want to say something." She didn't move from her spot at the door. "You make it a lot of work to be the pragmatist in this relationship."
He nodded.
"I don't know what I can give you. I'm not ready for much, Bobby."
"I understand that," he said softly.
"You'd have to be really patient, and even then I can't say anything for certain."
Bobby felt his heart skip a beat.
She looked down at the floor. "It's not much of a bargain."
"I don't know. I think it sounds pretty good"
"You know what I'd like more than anything else right now?"
"Tell me."
"I want to sleep and feel safe all at the same time. I would…like to be near you tonight when I sleep. I…just think it would help." Her hair fell into her eyes when she looked at him.
He nodded. "Come here, Eames."
She hesitated for a moment as if firming her resolve, and then she headed toward him. He opened the blankets and let her slide in. She lay facing him. "Is this the right thing for us?"
He turned on his side facing her. "I don't know, Alex. I really don't know."
"Well, I guess we're about to find out."
"Slide over here," he ordered. He put his hand around her waist and pulled her back into him. His mouth on her ear, he whispered, "Do you want a bedtime story before you go to sleep?"
He could the skin pull from her grin. "You were reciting Walt Whitman with my mother.
"Okay. I don't remember all of it word for word, but let me share my favorite passage with you…"And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly continually up the shores, I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to me whispering to congratulate me, For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night"
She closed her eyes and sighed. "Say that again to me and again and again and again."
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TBC