15
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They are the property of NBC, Dick Wolf, and Rene Balcer.
A/N: I have been stewing about the direction of this story. What I have chosen is intense and not a little graphic, and I do not mean sexually graphic. It is the only direction that I really felt with any passion. I am deeply grateful to those who are still with me. The hits and reviews have dwindled, but it's not going to slow me down. I want to finish this story satisfactorily. Thanks for sharing it with me.
Sheila
Control
Chapter 14
Bobby leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. She moaned at his touch and rolled toward him. "Hey!"
"I'm going to go to work now. We have a lot to do."
"I'm coming with you," she said as she rubbed at her eyes.
He shook his head. "Too early, Eames."
She propped herself up on an elbow. "I'm not staying here alone and I can be helpful. It's better than leaving me here with all my demons. Besides, press isn't going to bother me at 1PP."
He looked at her for a moment as if battling with her logic. "No. There's too much risk. We shouldn't be seen together right now, and because you are the complainant, you can't get near the evidence. We can't play with this. We're putting him away this time: no screw-ups."
He searched her eyes for a reaction, but she merely nodded. She knew he was right. Then he rolled away from her and out of bed wearing only his boxers. She watched him reach for his pants. His arms and legs were long and thick, and she shivered as she remembered the strength of them wrapped around her. Even after the night in Cape Cod, Bobby Goren was her partner first, but now he had become this man who had a slightly musky smell and long fingers and a soft voice that tickled her ear. He liked to hold her in his sleep; he didn't roll away from her like her other men did. It was something to get used to, having this large, warm body plastered against hers all night. He snored as big men so often do, and mumbled things in his sleep. She could feel his restlessness, his fingers twitching in the midst of a dream. He liked to nuzzle her neck, and his grizzly jaw sent shivers down her spine.
"Coffee?" He asked breaking her thoughts.
She sat up and slid out of bed. "Yes, let me do it. You always put too much damn sugar in it."
"You like it that way," he called after her retreating form.
He sat down at the table, and tied his shoes. She came in with a steaming cup and put it down before him. He caught her by the waist, pulling her into his lap. "I like seeing you in my t-shirt, your legs bare. I like holding my fierce, tiny partner in my arms at night. I like that your hair sticks up in the morning and that you don't run into the bathroom to fuss at it. I like that you know me so well, and that you accept me as I am."
"Next you're going to tell me you like green eggs and ham," she drawled.
He smiled at her. "I'm happy right now. I want you to know that."
She ran a hand through his short curls. "I want to be too. I don't want to disappoint you. I just don't feel in control. Everything is so intense. I'm just trying to keep up."
"You make the rules, Alex. I won't push you. I promise."
She rubbed her cheek against his. "Make no mistake, Bobby Goren, I want this to happen just as much as you do."
"Uh, Alex," he whispered into her ear. "Someone's gonna stop and visit you today."
She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "Okay?"
"Dr. Skoda is a friend of mine, and um, I asked if he could stop and meet you. He was very helpful during your disappearance."
"You told me." She slid off his lap. "What are you hoping he will do?"
"I want him to talk to you about Post Traumatic Stress." He watched her closely as she walked into the kitchen. "I should have asked. We've, uh, been so distracted by other things, and I don't want to make the assumption that this is just about physical wounds healing."
She appeared in the doorway. "You should have discussed it with me. Let's just be clear about that."
He nodded.
She rubbed at her eyes. "I know it needs to happen. I know that."
"Do you want me to call him and tell him not to come?"
She shook her head. "I want to meet him. Just remember Bobby, you promised not to push."
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She liked him almost immediately. He was quiet and assuming, and let her make all the moves. She led him into the living room and appreciated the space he gave her by sitting across the room.
He looked around. "This is quite a setup you got here."
She shrugged. "It's too big, too expensive. It makes me uncomfortable."
He nodded. "Did Bobby tell you why I was stopping?"
"You're going to tell me that being kidnapped and…." She took a deep breath. You're going to tell me it's going to screw up my life and I am destined to spend my life as an emotional cripple."
"Actually there are no guarantees on that. We all cope differently."
She leaned forward. "I'm not going to pretend I'm all right. I'm not. I used to be so sure about everything. Now I don't know. I feel fear, but it's more than that. I feel like I don't know who I am anymore."
"Your psyche took a blow; knocked you off your feet. It left you unbalanced and overloaded with feelings you can't control."
She cocked her head. "That's not bad, Dr. Skoda."
"Who you are is still there; it's just being overshadowed by the images and fears and anxieties that follow a trauma."
"I'm mad at myself."
"You've been inundated with all of this ugliness, and you have to be angry at yourself for allowing it to happen."
She tensed. "You think this is my fault too?"
"No, but your psyche does, and the media is fueling it with their attention to Jimmy. I won't even comment on what an idiot the chief of D's is. If only, if only, if only…Tell me your thoughts aren't taking you there."
"They are." Her voice had grown soft and she wrapped her arms around her waist as if experiencing a chill.
He nodded. "There are a thousand points where you could have done something differently, but we never know about these moments until after it's all over. And we turn our regret into anger at our lack of omniscience."
"You're almost as good as Bobby."
He chuckled. "Bobby would've been formidable in the field, but I suspect he is better suited for what he does now."
"I don't want to disappoint him."
"Now that's a whole conversation in itself, but let's hold off on that for right now. I want you to think of yourself as someone recovering from a fall. Let's imagine you broke your leg. As impatient as you can get about that, you know you have to rest. You know recovery will take time. You know that you can't expect to be able to run a marathon for a long time. This is the same thing. Because it's intangible, we tend to not allow ourselves to recuperate in the same way. We imagine that because we can walk and talk, we should be back at full speed in no time, but your emotions need just as much attention and care as a broken leg does."
"People pay you for this?"
"Nope. I'm not a therapist."
"Okay, well, whatever. You're hired."
He grinned. "Bobby said you had spirit."
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Bobby sat in a room surrounded by every document on Jimmy Ross he could gather. His blackboard was set up and he was making lists. Logan and Barek had wandered in, and were watching him work with some fascination.
He sensed their presence, and pointed a long finger back at them, his eyes still on the blackboard. "This case is going to hinge on explaining how Jimmy found her at the pier."
"He followed her from her apartment," Logan said.
"No!" He turned his head at them, eyes blazing, giving evidence of the intensity of his concentration. "No one will believe that he followed her for 6 hours before grabbing her. She would have noticed. Eames is no fool."
"Uh, okay. The last thing she asked you before she was snatched was wondering if he could be tracing her phone." Barek moved documents out of a chair and sat down.
He threw his hands up. "My experts tell me that he can't trace her from his phone, but he could through her phone. He would've to have had her phone at some point and put a trace on it manually."
"He could have done this when he broke into my apartment."
"But he didn't. Her phone has been to the lab. There are no signs of tampering."
"Damn!" Logan had to resist the urge to push Bobby's carefully orchestrated mess off the table in his frustration.
"He could have traced it if he had talked to her on his phone, but that didn't happen. We checked his cells records and hers."
"This is the kind of crap that messes with a jury." Logan paced back and forth. Barek cleared off another chair and gestured to him. He sat down reluctantly.
"Jimmy's smart. He's an inventor. We have to think like him."
Bobby nodded at Carolyn. "Exactly."
"I'm going to leave it to you brains. The only thing I ever invented were reasons to not get married."
"You were the last one to talk to her, Bobby. Could he have tampered with your phone?" Carolyn leaned forward.
"No, he had only a couple of minutes with me unconscious. It wasn't enough plus he would have had to anticipate the need. I think he fully believed that she would leave with him that day. He would have had no reason."
"It went with you to the hospital. You used it to call Alex," Logan murmured.
"Yeah, this is all academic. I had the phone checked just in case. It's clean."
"Do your experts know if the tap could have happened through the charger?"
Bobby looked at him. "I never thought to ask."
"Your phone was dead. Do you remember? I went out to the desk to find a charger so you could call her."
"Where'd you find the charger?" Bobby's eyes held him intently.
"It was right on the desk. I didn't even ask. I just grabbed it and came back in."
"What happened to it after that?"
"You used it while on the phone with her. You didn't have time to wait for it to charge. Afterward, I just dropped it back on the nurse's station."
Bobby nodded. "I gotta make phone calls, and you need to see if you can find me that charger."
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"I don't remember much. Really. It's vague."
"You have nightmares?"
"Yeah."
"What can you tell me about them?
Oh God, Skoda, tell me you're kidding? It's nothing more than images of Jimmy being nice and then cruel. It's surreal."
"That's what dreams are supposed to be. Clearly, this is not comfortable for you. I'm going to ask you a question. If you can answer, then fantastic. If it is too painful, then just say no."
She took a deep breath, and pulled the cashmere throw around her.
"Alex, tell me what words come to mind when you think of your nightmares. Don't try to describe or explain, just give me words."
She closed her eyes, and frowned. "Cold, scared, angry…frightened."
"Good. Concentrate. Give me more words. Things you remember from your dreams."
"Cologne, strong and nasty. I hate cologne now…Cuffs digging into my wrists…hunger pangs…I remember promises…I remember rope…She helped him…the rope scratched my neck…I yelled…" A look of terror grew on her face and she stopped.
"That's good, Alex."
She opened her eyes, her breathing coming in heavy gasps. "It's just a dream. There was no rope and I don't remember Latinka."
"You were tied up."
"I was handcuffed to the bed, not tied."
"Okay." Skoda's voice was soft giving her all the space she needed.
"The only rope I know of is what Bobby told me about Latinka being hung in the basement."
"Were you in the basement?"
"There was work out equipment and it was musty and dank. The floor was cold. It was a cement floor."
"So you were down there at one point."
She shook her head. "No, I wasn't there. Bobby must have told me all this."
"He told you about the cold, cement floor?" Skoda led her gently.
"He must have. I wasn't there."
"But the rope scratched your neck."
"That was a dream."
"You remembered what it felt like."
Alex pushed off the throw, and got to her feet. "I think that's good. That's enough. No more. Okay?"
He nodded.
She started pacing. "Psychiatrists, you're all so fond of people's dreams. Sometimes, they're just dreams. Once I dreamt that I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. It doesn't mean I wanted to. I think climbing a mountain is about 768th on my list of things I would feel like doing, but there it was."
"You're right."
She turned and confronted him. "Then why are we talking about this?"
He leaned forward, his hands clasped in his lap. "Because sometimes, dreams hold memories. Sometimes these memories are ones that are too intense for our waking reality."
"Bullshit! Bad things happened, and I remembered them the best I could. He gave me drugs. I remember the rapes."
"After the last rape, you said you never saw him again."
She threw her hands up. "Because I didn't!" She dropped back into the sofa.
Skoda got up slowly. "It's okay, Alex. We've gone far enough."
"I'm sorry. I want to do this work. I don't know why I'm so upset."
"Let's remember the broken leg analogy. I'm a physical therapist, and we've been exercising that leg, and it's gotten very sore. We've taken it as far as it can go for one day. That's what is going with you right now. We have exercised your memory and your emotions, and it's time to stop."
She absently rubbed a hand across her collarbone, rubbing back and forth at her neck. Skoda closed his eyes for a moment. "You shouldn't be alone this evening. Sometimes, there's emotional fallout after a session like this."
"I'll be fine."
"I would be happier if I knew someone was coming."
"Okay, I'll call Bobby and see what time he's coming over."
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Barek looked up when he closed his phone. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I think so." Bobby furrowed his brow for a moment. "She said that she just finished with Skoda. Said it was intense. I should probably go check on her."
"Sounds good. Logan should be back any minute. We can hold things down 'til you get back."
Bobby got up and his cell went off again. He picked it up and made a face. "Hello, this is Goren…Is she alright? Did you medicate her?..Yeah, I bet she's mad. I missed another weekly visit. Can you tell her-… What! She bit someone!...Okay, I'll be right there…If the staff person wants to call the police, let 'em. Mom knows better than this. No reason to make her life all that comfortable right now." He looked at the clock on the wall. "I'll be there in forty minutes…Feel free to tell her I'm pissed…Of course, she's mentally ill, but she knows right from wrong. No free pass for her today. Got it?...Okay."
Barek frowned at him. "Can I do anything?"
He shook his head. "I should've known better than to disrupt our routine. I'll just call Alex and tell her it will be a couple of hours."
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Her cheek was numb from lying on the cold, cement floor. She wanted to shift onto her back, but her hands were tied tightly behind her, and they were too sore to tolerate the floor. She watched him walk back and forth, working with a pulley and some rope. He had stopped responding to her, treating her as if she was already dead. She had stopped pleading. It was useless and she found that her will was beginning to fade.
He grabbed her hair and lifted her head. She yelped. Then he slid a thick rope around her neck. It was thick and itchy. He tightened it and then let her head drop back onto the hard floor. She imagined what would happen next, and her emotions broke free. There were no tears; dehydration saw to that. She only had wordless sobs left to her.
The rope jerked and squeezed her neck. Her breath caught in her throat; the pain was excruciating. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited.
She screamed and launched herself upright. The walls of the room were not Jimmy's, and her hands were not tied behind her back. It was dark in the bedroom and empty. She looked at the clock. It was 10:30 p.m. and there was no sign of Bobby. She clutched her stomach and began to weep from a place deep inside. She could no longer deny that there had been a rope. Her breath came in deep gasps, and she found it impossible to get warm. She stumbled out to the living room, and grabbed the cashmere throw, wrapping it around herself tightly. Her body convulsed in her grief; her breath exiting in great gasps. Chilled and unable to find relief under the throw, she dragged herself into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Then she climbed in, cashmere and all, crouching down in the tub, warm water splashing off her huddled body.
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Bobby opened the door to the apartment. It was late and he hoped she was sleeping. His mother had run him through a couple of hours of histrionics before she finally calmed. Calling the police had its consequences, and she spared no foul description for her son. He sat as he always did at these times, and waited as patiently as he knew how. He knew that if he left in the middle of a diatribe, she would merely commit another atrocity, requiring him to come right back.
Thoughts of Alex alone ran through his head. She had said she was fine, but there was a quality to her voice that he couldn't quite place and he found himself feeling uneasy about it. Finally Frances Goren calmed down, and even apologized to her son before he left.
The bathroom light was on, and he walked in, finding the floor wet, and a soaked blanket draped on the toilet. He trotted to the bedroom they had shared the night previous and found the bed tousled but empty. He shouted her name but got no response. He was in the midst of pushing open doors to rooms yet unexplored in his search for her when his cell rang. He put it to his ear and listened. His face screwed up in frustration as he slammed the phone shut and headed for the door.
……………………………………………………………
Barek looked out of interrogation observation when she heard him and waved for him. He followed her in. Deakins, Logan, and Carver were already there watching through the mirror. Alex Eames sat in interrogation, an array of photos spread about the table. She still wore her coat, and despite that, seemed to be shivering. Her hair had dried in clumps that she brushed out of her red, swollen eyes. She was focused intently on the pictures as if unaware of the crowd observing her behind the mirror.
He watched for a moment, and turned to them. "What is going on here?"
Carolyn stepped forward. "She showed up about an hour ago. Mike and I were getting ready to leave. She seemed agitated, and didn't want to talk. She went straight into the room you set up with the evidence and began sifting through photos. I tried to talk to her, and she got upset. She said she needed space to concentrate. She physically reacted when I approached her. I didn't know what to do. You weren't answering your cell. I called Deakins and Carver happened to be passing through, and I grabbed him. She picked up a pile of photos and went in interrogation to work. She is not responding to anyone. She just keeps saying that she remembers everything now and we have to leave her alone so she can concentrate. We don't know what to do."
"She might need a hospital," Deakins added.
Bobby jerked his head around to face Deakins. "Let me talk to her first."
Before he left the room, he said, "Mike, do me a favor, call Skoda and update him on the situation."
He walked into interrogation and she looked up. "Hi Bobby, is your mom okay?"
He was struck by the normality of her greeting. "She's okay. Just felt like throwing a tantrum. I shouldn't disrupt our routine like I've been doing."
"That's my fault. Tell her I'm sorry." Alex returned her attention to the photos."
He took another step closer and he could see her body tense. "What are you doing?"
Not looking up from her pictures, she said, "Now is not good, Bobby. I remember things. Real things. I need to understand what happened."
"I want to help." As he eased closer, he noticed that she had gathered all the photos from the basement of the house. Pictures of the floor, ceiling, equipment, and Latinka Pomoravlje hanging from a rope littered the table.
She shook her head. "I need to concentrate. I need to make these images work for me."
"I'm your partner. We work together."
"You'll just try and stop me. You'll tell me to rest."
He sat down in a chair next to her. "Finding memories is important. I want to help you do this. Tell me what you know, and we'll work it out together."
She turned toward him, and he noted the terror in her eyes. He reached out and gently put his hand on her arm. "I just want to help."
She leaned toward and said, "I remembered something. I thought it was a dream, but it's the truth. I have to know everything now."
"What happened?"
"He killed me. I thought that the last time I saw him was when he threatened me, but then he came back and killed me."
"I don't understand."
She gripped his arm. "I thought it was a dream. I didn't believe there was really a rope, but there was and I remember the cold floor and I remember him acting like I was already dead."
"Okay, okay. Take it slow."
"There was a pulley. I was lying on the floor, and he was working on a pulley he had attached to the ceiling. He put the rope around my neck."
Bobby let out breath. "Honey, there was no pulley in the basement. He hung her without a pulley."
"Yes, yes, to make it look like a suicide. Using a pulley would have indicated otherwise. He used the pulley with me."
"He tried to hang you."
"Yes, he did. I tried to talk to him. I tried to plead, but he wouldn't even look at me. I was already dead to him."
She started to tremble. He detached her hand from his arm and took off his coat. "You're cold." He wrapped it around her shoulders and took her shaking hands.
"The rope was harsh and I remembered that it squeezed my neck, and I couldn't breathe."
He put his head down for a moment as if warring with demons of his own. Finally he lifted his head and asked, "What happened next?"
Latinka was there. I finally remember her. She was talking to him. He let go of the rope."
"Do you remember what they said?"
"No, not really. I remember pieces about the mess being too much. I remember her saying that cement was porous and bodily fluids would seep through even if they put down plastic." Her shaking became convulsive and he put his arms around her.
"There was a pulley, Bobby, but I can't find it in the photos," she whispered into his shoulder.
He rocked her gently. "Sshh! You've pushing yourself too hard. It will come. It will all come with time."
She pushed away and looked into his face. "No! I need to know now. I need to understand what happened to me. Why did she come back here? Why did he let her take me away? Where's the pulley? If we don't answer these questions, no one will believe me. If I hadn't acted as I did, Latinka would still be alive."
"You're overwhelmed, Alex. You're thinking in six directions all at the same time."
"Help me, Bobby. Help me do what I need to do or get out of my way 'cause I won't tolerate these mysteries any longer."
"It's too much. You're going to overload."
She stroked his hair. "I feel bad for you Bobby. You have so much. I wonder how you do it all. You're mom is one kind of crazy and right now, I'm another kind. Nobody thinks about what you need anymore."
He squeezed his eyes shut. "I need for you to feel strong again. I need to have you in my life. I won't lose you."
"Then help me," she hissed. "I can't stop now."
"You can only take so much, Alex."
She pushed away from him violently and started to gather up photos. Clutching them to her chest, she backed away from him, his big coat hanging loosely on her. "If I understand everything, if I make everyone else understand, then this is all over. Why would I want to prolong this?"
"We just need to take it slow."
She backed into a corner. "Don't take my control away, Bobby. If you do that, so help me God, we'll never be the same again. I promise you that."
There was a gentle knock on the door, and it eased open. Dr. Skoda walked into the room. "Hey."
Alex looked at him. "It came like a flood."
He nodded. "I didn't realize it was so close to the surface, and I certainly didn't realize you had something so potent to uncover."
"I can't stuff it back in. I can't just temper it like all of you want."
"I know, but if you move full speed, you might go too far, you might injure that broken leg so badly, you'll never walk again."
"Then do it with me. Hold my hand, carry me, whatever analogy you want to use, but help me get this done 'cause it has hold of me now, and I don't think I can control it like you seem to think I can."
Skoda looked at Bobby for a moment. The big detective looked defeated. Then he turned his attention to Alex again. "What do you need now?"
"Take me back to that house. We have to know what happened there. We can strengthen our case against Jimmy and I can know my memories."
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TBC