13
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Dick Wolf, Rene Balcer, and NBC, inc.
A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just got back from a three day retreat with a bunch of kids. It was really fun. I am getting the most tremendous support and I appreciate it dearly. We are winding down, and I am not sure if I have one or two chapters left. We'll find out together. Thanks for taking the time to write. It means a lot.
Sheila
Control
Chapter 17
The sun was blinding on her face, and she again felt her skin for sun block. She had already put it on twice, but she had no intention of getting sunburn. She considered that the purview of idiot white females in their teens and twenties. She looked around the land of Oz and shook her head yet again. Around her were hills upon hills looking out on the pacific. White, gleaming mansions dotted the landscape. She was herself sitting on the patio of one such home. A turquoise pool spread out before her, and she sat on lawn furniture that seemed better fit for the living room. Her jeans were rolled up to her knees, and one stray foot skipped across the top of the water.
A maid brought her a wonderfully rich glass of fresh squeezed orange juice earlier, and it was the best thing Alex had ever tasted. When she remarked on it, the maid brought her another. She wanted a third, but couldn't erase the image of an overworked maid straining over oranges in the kitchen.
Her mother was off to the bottom of the hill again, roaming the expensive shops of Orange County. Alex had gone with her the day before, but had been unimpressed with the outrageous price tags and arrogant salespeople. Alex gave her $100 to spend, and figured she'd come back with a nice pair of socks.
A strikingly tall brunette with waves of hair wandered out onto the patio, and Alex squinted up at her. "Hey thanks for giving Mom a ride to the bottom of the hill."
"My pleasure. I gave her a credit card to use and told Maurice to go looking for her around 4 this afternoon."
"Mister!"
She laughed. "Hey, come on. You know I see that woman as the mother I never had. I have the means to spoil. Besides, remember how she was oohing over that house design shop. I told her I was hiring her to redesign my upstairs bathroom, and that she had to buy for that and for herself as payment for services rendered. It's win- win."
"So, you really want your bathroom to look like Brooklyn circa 1950's?"
She shrugged and sat down on the chaise lounge beside Alex. "I miss Brooklyn. I'm sure I'll like it just fine. So how are you doing, Al?"
"I'm hot and I'm the only woman my age in this town without boobs. Yesterday a woman in that salon almost talked me into a chemical peel, and literally, a stranger on the street walked up to me and pointed to the place on my forehead where Botox would do the most good. I love the ocean, I love this pool, and I love you. The rest of it can go to hell.
Mister patted her hand. "That's my girl. I wouldn't want you any other way." She looked at the table next to Alex and laughed. "Did you already go through that entire SPF 75? You are such a freak."
Alex glared at her. "I'm going to need more."
"I bet you will. I'll pick some up. I'll pick up a case, in fact."
Alex smirked at her, and then returned her attention to the blue of the ocean, the distant sound of waves crashing floated its way up to them.
"Therapy's good?"
"Yeah, Maurice is taking me to Marianna's in about an hour."
"Are you talking with her about Bobby?"
Alex stiffened, her eyes still focused on the faraway surf.
"Al, he's on your mind. You should talk about it."
Alex smiled and nodded. "We will. We're just focusing on other things right now. Did you know that Marianna is Skoda's ex-wife? Now, that's interesting stuff."
"Your therapist told you that?"
"I'm a detective. I have skills, and she admitted it. I think she still carries a torch for him. I can't quite picture it myself. To me he looks like a grown up Howdy Doody without hair."
Mister sighed. "This is great. I love how you talk about people I've never met as a means of avoiding my questions."
"I'm not hiding in the Hollywood Hills because I'm having relationship problems. I have issues I need to address. I can't think about him until I'm healthy. I can't be that kind of a burden to him."
"Your mom does a lot of talking after a few glasses of Chardonnay, you know. She thinks he's pretty special. Says he really cares about you."
"Yeah." The edges of Alex's mouth twitched and she looked away.
"I want to meet him."
Alex shook her head. "I have to see if I can work this all out first. He would sacrifice himself for my mental health, and I can't live with that. I want to be strong again before I go back. He deserves someone strong."
Mister made a noise in her throat. "You are so infuriating, Al. You don't have to be perfect for him. The two of you can grow together."
"And I need to know if I can do that. Right now, I feel one misunderstanding away from another breakdown. I can't put that on him."
"Then call him."
She shook her head. "I want to wait. I want to feel more solid."
"I don't even know what to say to you, but I think you're crazy and it ain't got nothing to do with no trauma." Alex smirked and Mister dropped her head back into the lounge and pulled sunglasses over her eyes. "I have to leave in a few minutes. I've got meetings until late. I also forgot to tell you that I need to be in NYC at the end of the week, just for a couple of days. Hans and the kids won't be back from Seattle until sometime next week. You and your mom have the place to yourself."
Alex grinned at her. "You really want to leave me and Mom alone in the palatial estate? Aren't you afraid of what might happen left to our own devices?"
Mister chuckled. "Worst case scenario: your mom decorates the bathroom in mirrors and Elsa has to up the number of oranges she buys for the house. I can live with that level of crisis." Then her eyes lit up. "Hey, I just remembered something." She got up and jogged into the house. She came back with a brown leather book and a handful of pens. "I got you a journal. Don't worry, I bought it when I was in Century City. The price was very reasonable. I thought maybe you could write down your thoughts. You used to do it when you were a girl."
Alex reached for it. "You were always the sweet one, Mary Rose. I always wished I was more like you."
Mister's eyes stung for a moment, and then she screwed up her face and punched Alex in the arm. "You are such a dork, Al. I swear."
Alex rubbed her throbbing arm and edged away. "And apparently, you're a small, vicious child."
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Samuelson looked into the room where Bobby was working. Crime scene photos were plastered about the room. The file was spread out on the desk in front of him, and he was hunched over it, mumbling to himself. "Goren! Come on. I'm not interested in playing mad scientist with you today. Let's go do some interviews."
Bobby looked up for a moment. "I need a minute. There's a connection here. I just need a minute." He refocused on the file.
"Jesus Hell, Goren! You've been looking at those photos for three days. There is nothing there. I've humored you long enough. This is a murder investigation not some jigsaw puzzle. Let's get out there and interact with suspects already!"
Not even looking up, Bobby growled, "So go already. Interview, intimidate or whatever the hell you pass off as investigative skills. I'm busy."
Out in the bullpen, Logan raised his head. He wanted to get up and join the dick waving contest as he had some specific thoughts to share, but Deakins had specifically told him to stay out of it. Goren and Samuelson were going to have to work it out on their own.
Samuelson leaned against the doorframe. "I guess I don't have to wonder why Eames put up with you as long as she did. There is only one reason a girl puts up with this much nonsense from a man."
Logan was on his feet and moving toward the door before Bobby reached him. Samuelson stepped his legs apart, and waited for Bobby to come at him. Bobby got to his face and froze, glaring at him. Logan wormed his way between them. "For God's sake, if you two can't respect each other, that's one thing, but have the good sense to respect the squad. We don't need a brawl in here. Kill each other on your own time."
Bobby didn't move. His eyes bore a hole right through Samuelson. There was something about the tall, broad detective with the kamikaze eyes that hit home for the older detective and he backed off. Logan had to stifle the urge to tell Samuelson just what he thought of his impatient ignorance. Instead he stood in front of the door blocking Bobby and giving Samuelson time to retreat to his desk.
"Bobby, there's certain kinds of individuals who won't tolerate anything they don't understand. Samuelson is one of those people and I'm another. Only difference is that I got enough smarts to be tolerant a hell of a lot more often than he is. He knows your solve rate is high, he just doesn't get why. It irritates him and thus inspires his stupidity."
"He's smart enough to know when he's about to take a beating," Bobby growled.
"Listen, you go back to what you were doing, and I'll go out on interviews with Samuelson."
"No."
Logan grinned. "Going to be a hardhead, huh?"
Bobby brushed past him, grabbed the notebook off his desk, and walked past Samuelson out the door. Samuelson saw this and looked to Logan for guidance. Logan pretended he didn't see this and walked in the other direction. Finally, Samuelson took a deep breath, grabbed his notebook, and trotted off after Bobby.
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She loved it in the early evening as the sun was falling in the sky. L.A. felt so much more manageable when the day slowed to a close. She curled up in the chaise with a blanket and her journal and opened it to the first page:
This is for me and me only. I write what I want and follow no rules.
With that she hesitated; she knew what her heart wanted, but it was what she had vowed she wouldn't do right now. She stared at the blank page for a while, frustrated, and then finally decided that no rules meant no rules. This journal would be something that was free of the restrictions she put on the rest of her life. With this in mind, she slowly put the pen to paper and wrote:
Random Bobby Thoughts
The first time I felt how soft your beard was I got a chill down my spine.
Speaking of soft, your voice is like 500 thread count soft. It's such a revelation in a man your size.
When you hover over my shoulder at my computer, I was always annoyed until the day I smelled your cologne. Now I just relax and drink in your proximity when you're behind me.
I only pretend I don't like it when you make coffee for me.
I don't worry that you'll end up like your mother. Ever.
I love watching you with kids. You're so sweet and funny. What an
amazing dad you would be.
Every time I let out breath, I feel your absence in me. It's heavy and sad, and I am working as hard as I can to get back to you. Please wait for me.
Bobby, I never told you that the reason I stopped caring about life when Jimmy had me was because I believed what he said about you being dead. I never really acknowledged the connection to this until I got here. Marianna says it's important. She says I have to want to live for me. I thought it would be easier than it is. I guess it is good to have space for reflection.
Sometimes, I can't remember why exactly it's right to not be with you right now. I know what I tell everyone. I just don't know if it's right or not. Honestly, it doesn't feel right at all.
The journal is a good idea with one exception: I physically ache with every word I write about you, and I wish….
"Honey, do you want to see everything I got?"
Alex closed her book, wiped at the corner of her eyes, and sat up to greet her mother who came at her, arms laden with shopping bags of all sizes.
………………………………………………………………………………….
A beautiful brunette was looking at him from the bar, and he did his best to ignore her. Instead, he focused on the arroz con pollo on his plate and the wonderful Syrah he was drinking. This happened sometimes. His intensity seemed to act like a pheromone, and women would focus on him without ever hearing him speak. Most of the time, he enjoyed it, even took advantage of it, but tonight he was a man burdened with too many problems. He had a partner who was acting more obtuse than he was for the simple reason that he didn't like Goren. It had taken two days more to solve their latest case than it should have, and Bobby suspected that their days together were numbered. He worried that he would again end up in a revolving door pattern of partners. It had been that way for almost three years before he met Alex. On top of all of this, Deakins had temporarily assigned a newbie to Eames' desk. Goren had taken one look at this situation, gathered up his things, and went to work in interrogation. He wasn't about to work at his desk and look across at some idiot kid wearing a 'deer caught in headlight' look because he didn't understand how he got here.
The woman at the bar crossed her legs, and he saw a very shapely bare leg poking out from beneath her skirt. She smiled at him when he looked and he couldn't help but smile back. A part of him wondered if an evening with a stunner like this wouldn't be just the ticket to get himself back on track. It might also help him loosen the stranglehold Eames had on his heart. He felt resigned to the idea that he would never be the kind of man who could give Alexandra Eames the life she deserved.
His waitress was moving past him when he signaled her. "Could you get a glass of this Syrah for that lovely woman at the bar?"
She smiled down at him and nodded.
A few minutes later, the brunette was standing in front of him, the Syrah in hand. He gestured for her to sit and she did. "I'm Bobby Goren and you are…"
She smiled, "Mary Rose Murphy."
"Thank you for joining me."
She grinned. "I'm here on business. It's amazing how New York City can feel like a lonely place."
"You're West Coast?"
"Very good! I grew up here, but I've been out there for the last fifteen years."
Bobby felt a twinge of excitement at the knowledge she was only here for a few nights. There was less chance she would expect anything of him. "Tell me about your business."
And the next half hour was devoted to the ins and outs of public relations. He was a good listener and asked questions through a caramel flan they split between them and coffee. She asked about being a police detective, but he gave her only short, brusque replies. 1PP was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He came to the point of transition, and found that he wasn't as eager to continue the evening as he thought he would be. It wasn't anything about her. She was beautiful and smart and funny, but he kept imagining a petite woman with grey-green eyes and ash blonde hair frowning at him and he realized that a distraction was no longer just a distraction anymore. At one point, however, there was something about her face that changed his mind. He leaned toward her at the end of the evening, using his softest voice and said, "I have the most intriguing Zinfandel at home, and I have been waiting for someone to share it with. Would you be interested in another glass of wine?"
Her forehead wrinkled for a split second and he could see the indecision racing through her. "Um…that….sounds very tempting. However…I have an…early morning meeting."
He looked at his watch. "Mary Rose, it's only 8:30 and my apartment is only a block away. I can have you in a cab in an hour."
She blinked hard and let out a breath. "Well…I suppose that's too good to pass up."
With a smile, he got to his feet and gestured at the door. She got up slowly and followed. "Uh, Bobby, I really only have time for one drink."
He nodded at her. "No problem."
He was really quite a gentleman, opening doors, his hand on the small of her back, and chatting about L.A. like he himself lived there. She hesitated at his door, and he cocked his head at her. She flushed a little and he moved toward her, backing her into the wall. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her face, effectively trapping her. He moved his face to within an inch of hers. Her breath caught and then he smiled and said, "Okay, Mister, how far do you want to take this?"
She blinked and sunk against the wall. "How did you know?"
He sighed and walked over to his door. "It took me longer than it should have. I really must be losing my touch." He turned to regard her. "I really do have a nice Zinfandel." And then he disappeared inside.
She followed slowly into an apartment with high ceilings; the walls filled with books from floor to ceiling, paintings garnering all remaining wall space. He came around a corner holding a wine glass toward her. "This doesn't seem like Alex's style."
Mister shook her head. "She has no idea. She'll probably kill me when she finds out."
Bobby sat down. "You followed me from work?"
"Yeah. So what was the tip-off?"
He shrugged. "Mary Eames showed me a photo album of Alex as a child, and you were in about 75 of the pictures. It took me awhile to recognize your eyes and nose."
"If you hadn't have figured it out, would you have slept with me?"
"Would you have let me? Look Mister, this is not a good test for me right now. I get the feeling that the best thing for me to do is move on, and I'm not above looking for opportunities to do that."
Mister put her glass down. "She is busting her butt to get back here in good shape. She wants to be strong for you. She is not moving on."
"Maybe it would be better for her if she did."
"Oh, Christ!" She stared at the ceiling. "You're worse than she is, and that's really saying something. You're both relationship impaired and I don't even know you. I do know that if you don't love her, you're an idiot. She doesn't give her heart easily, and she's extended it to you; you'd be a fool to walk away."
He stiffened visibly. "It's complicated."
"Everything is. You don't have the corner on complexity."
He drained the wine glass, and got up in search of more. "Tell me how she's doing, Mister."
"She goes to therapy every day. Other than that, she sits at my pool under layers of sunscreen, drinking orange juice, journaling, and looking out on the ocean. She won't shop; she won't sightsee. Once she let me take her down for a walk on the beach, but that's about it."
"She's still very sad," he murmured.
"She misses New York, she misses police work, and she misses you."
He put down his wine glass and disappeared into the kitchen. Seconds later, he returned with a tumbler of scotch. He sat down again. "Don't tell her you saw me."
She shook her head in disgust. "You can count on it, Bobby."
"I can't figure out the best thing to do."
Mary Rose got to her feet and reached for her coat. "She's special, and I was hoping that you were remarkable enough to understand that. I was hoping that this is what I would discover when I got here."
Bobby swallowed hard. "I do know. I do."
She stopped at the door. "Then maybe you should think about the real reason you're trying so hard to erase her." She was out the door before he even had a chance to respond.
……………………………………………………………………………..
It was deep in the night when Bobby woke. She was sitting in a chair across the room wearing that black suit with the red shirt that she wore the last time he was with her. It was unbuttoned down to her cleavage. She smiled at him and rested her face on a propped elbow. "I like watching you sleep. You're much easier to get along with when you're sleeping."
He raised his head and stared at her, trying to tease his dreams from reality.
"So you decided that it would be best if we weren't together." She continued to look at him with that enigmatic look she wore when she was ready to pounce.
He scrubbed his face and squinted at her. "Alex, you're not here. You're still in California."
She threw back her head and laughed. "I am wherever you want me to be."
"It's too intense. It's not good for you."
"Well, clearly you know what's best. I think we should go with this." She shrugged her suit coat off her shoulders.
"You've been through too much."
She pulled the tails of her shirt out of her pants. "You know, this thing we're doing, the pulling away, this happened for me when I realized I had nothing left to do but get better. I had to come to grips with the fact that soon I would have nothing to think of but how to make it work with you. When did it happen for you?"
"Alex…"
She unbuttoned her shirt. "It's hot in here."
He sat up, the sheet bunching at his waist. "Don't. Please."
"Honestly, it shouldn't matter to you. I mean, you are in control, aren't you?" She unbuttoned her pants and pushed them past her thighs.
"I'm not doing this because it's what I want! I don't know how to be the stable presence you need! Can you understand that?"
She stood, stepped out of her pants, and unhooked her bra. "Control is overrated, Bobby."
He sucked in breath.
Raspberry pink nipples burst forth and she came toward him. "I'm just a dream, Bobby. You don't have to feel guilty about a dream. Besides, if this is not what you want, you can merely turn me into Mister. Now she's a real looker and she's fresh in your mind; really more your type, wouldn't you say?"
Bobby stopped listening. When she was close enough, he grabbed her hips and pulled her onto his lap.
"That's right, Bobby. Dreams are free."
She tried to say more but he pulled her mouth to his. There was nothing gentle about his kiss because dreams are free, and he had waited so long. He rolled her beneath him, and he began to tease her breasts with his teeth. She moaned and lifted her hips to his. He smiled down at her. "Honey, you're so soft, you're so perfect."
"I'm not perfect in the way Mister is," she murmured when her mouth escaped his.
"You're my scrappy little blonde who sees everything but hides from nothing. You are so much more than long legs and a California smile. You're a real woman." He began to work on the nape of her neck. She stretched her throat long and sighed.
As he moved to enter her, she dug her short fingernails into his back and whispered into his hair. "The truth, Bobby, is that I'm too real and I know you too well. You pain gets reflected in my face like a mirror. My power is too great."
"Shhh, Honey. Let's just be here in this moment." He began a rhythm in and out, her legs wrapped tightly around his midsection.
She placed her hands on his chest and pushed. He dropped back to his knees, and she rolled away from him. She sat up and looked at him, "There is no moment, Bobby. There is only a lifetime for you and I."
He rolled toward her. "Dreams are free."
She shook her head and slid off the bed. "Only until they bump against reality. Then they cost us everything."
"Please, Alex, wait." He reached after her, but she faded and was gone. He fell back on the bed, and slapped the sheets angrily. "Damn you, Eames. Damn you!"
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TBC