There was a storm coming. He could smell it in the air as he headed north from the city. The temperature dropped noticably as soon as he was clear of Manhattan. He loved New York, but he needed to get away. He needed to be alone, to sort through his thoughts and his feelings without them being muddled by being close to his partner. He couldn't figure anything out with her close by. He knew she was going to worry, and he hated being the cause of any grief for her. But this was something he had to do. He'd call her tomorrow. Let her know he was ok. And he needed to hear her voice. He sighed.
He stopped just north of the city and got a room for the night. He was exhausted, and he knew it was emotion that was wearing him down. He took a hot shower and collapsed onto the bed, knowing it would be a long time before his mind would let him sleep. He turned on the television and spent some time channel surfing. It sure would have helped him choose a channel if his mind had been on the programming, but all it would do was think about her.
He got up early and checked out. He had breakfast at the IHOP down the street and headed back for I-95. The sky was still dark with storm clouds. The coming storm had apparently stalled and had not yet broken over the region. He weaved in and out among the other cars on the highway. Eames hated when he did that. She said he drove like a fighter pilot. He smiled at that memory. Even when she was no where around, she could make him smile. He saw her, in his mind's eye, sitting across from him in a booth at Delaney's, smiling... That was the moment it had first dawned on him that he was in love with her. But he knew he had to bury those feelings and bury them deep. It was ok to love her. She knew he loved her. But to be in love with her? To think of her with passion as well as affection? No. That was definitely not ok. And even thinking about the fact that she would never return those feelings...well, that just...hurt. It hurt like hell. God, he was so tired of hurting. How the hell could he turn his damn mind off?
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It was the slow season. She hated this time of year. When she got grounded, like she was now, Mom made her sit in the office like this, waiting for guests who never came. A forty room motel, and they had two guests. She looked at the clock. Ten to five. At least dinner would be soon. She looked back at the history book open on the desk and wrinkled her nose in distaste. Why should she care what happened a hundred and fifty years ago in a place she'd never been to? School was such a drag. She turned and looked out the window. That was a wicked wind out there. The breakers would be awesome high. Too bad the damn office window faced the rooms and not the beach. The storm that had been threatening would be here soon.
The bell on the front door chimed and she went out to the desk. Well...hello! Tall, handsome, nice eyes... "Hi! My name's Carrie. How can I help you?" she asked sweetly. She'd been welcoming guests to the motel all her life.
He smiled at her perkiness. "I'd like a room, please."
"One night?"
"Uh, no. I'll be staying a week, I think."
Wow...a whole week...how'd she get so lucky? "Ocean view?"
"Please," he answered.
She couldn't help smiling at him. "We've got a real nice room on the second floor. Balcony overlooks the ocean. We get $150 a night in the peak season, but since it's dead as a tomb this time of year, we only charge $50, tax included."
"That's fine."
"We're not a B and B, but since we only have three guests right now, you're welcome to join us for supper." She handed him a card. "Fill this out please. You said a week, right?"
"That's right."
"That'll be $350." He handed her a credit card. "I'll be right back."
She went into the office and ran the charge, bringing the card and credit slip back to him. "Here you are." He signed the slip and handed it back to her with the card he had filled out. She read his name and address as he put his credit card in his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket. "You live in New York? We went on a field trip there last month to the Museum of Natural History. Ever been there?"
He nodded. "A couple of times."
"What do you do in New York? Are you like a banker or something?"
A banker? He laughed softly. "No, nothing that exciting. I'm a police detective."
"No kidding? Wow...my kid brother is gonna love you."
He smiled to himself. She sure was a chatty kid. "Oh? How old is he?"
"Nine. Thinks he wants to be a state trooper."
"And how old are you?"
"Sixteen." She pulled open a drawer and removed a key, handing it to him. "Your room is 204. I can show you where it is."
"I think I can manage, thanks."
"Um, supper's at 5:30."
He shook his head. "Not tonight, thanks. Maybe tomorrow."
He left the office and got back into the car, driving it around to the parking area. Locking it up, he headed for his room. The door opened into a central courtyard that overlooked a pool that was now closed for the season, a basketball court, and a big sandbox that he assumed was for sand volleyball. A couple of barbecue grills and an assortment of lounge chairs were scattered around the courtyard.
He opened the door and went into the room. It was a nice room, clean and well-kept. He had certainly stayed in far worse places. A 27-inch television sat on the dresser and a small table and chair were in the far corner near the balcony door. He took off his jacket and laid it on the bed.Opening the sliding glass door, he stepped out onto the balcony. The Atlantic Ocean stretched out before him, wind-whipped and churning from the approaching storm. The wind lashed at him as he slid the door closed behind him. A wrought-iron chair and table were set off to the side of the balcony. He leaned on the railing and watched the sea. Ten-foot swells crested and broke with fury onto the beach. Sea spray filled the air, dampening his skin, hair and clothes. It was a cold wind, but he found it refreshing. He had spent the day wandering around the town of Mystic. He liked to come up here, to this old whaling community. It was a nice place to visit, and he loved the old whaling ships. Whaling itself he found repulsive, but it was a huge part of the history of this community, and he did love history. Thankfully, whaling was history. Thunder sounded in the distance, competing with the surf to be heard. Lightning lit up the twilight sky.
He went back into the room and changed into dry clothes. He looked at the table where he had emptied the contents of his pockets, staring at his phone. Picking it up he turned it on. The phone chimed. Of course he had voicemail. The first was from Lewis. "Hey, man, what's going on? Alex is all worried about you and now I am, too. Give me a call."
Of course she would have called Lewis. If there was anything he couldn't talk to Eames about, chances were he'd go to Lewis. But he hadn't said anything to either of them. He sighed heavily as the next message queued up. It was Eames. "Bobby, please call me. This isn't like you and I am really worried. I promise I won't try to talk you out of anything. I just want to know that you are ok. Come on, please. Just call me."
He closed his eyes. She sounded upset. He sat down on the bed, his emotions as unsettled as the stormy sea just beyond the motel. There were no other messages. Taking a deep breath, he dialed her home number, hoping on some level that she wasn't there yet. It was about time for her to get home, if she'd left work right away. Deakins would not have given her a case, not without him. The answering machine came on and he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Beep. "It's just me. I'm all right, Eames. Really. I'm sorry I didn't call before I left, but this is something I really need to do. Trust me, please. I'll call you later. Don't worry about me, ok? Bye."
Next, he dialed Lewis' shop. He never left before seven. "Lewis' Auto Body."
"Hey, man."
"Bobby, where the hell are you?"
"I'm all right. I just needed some time away."
"Did you call Alex?"
"Yeah, but she wasn't home."
"She's worried about you."
"Lewis, she always worries about me."
"Yeah, you lucky dog."
Goren laughed. Lewis had a huge crush on Eames. If Eames returned the sentiment, he might be troubled by it. But she didn't, and Lewis was harmless. Of that much he was certain. He wondered if Lewis suspected his attraction to his partner. He might...no one knew him better. "I'm gonna go now, Lewis. It's storming here."
"And where is here?"
"Nice try. I'm not ready to say."
"Because you think I'll tell Alex."
"You have no will power."
Lewis laughed. "But you're near the ocean, aren't you?"
"Good-bye, Lewis."
"You gonna keep your damn phone on now?"
"Maybe."
"Ok. Bye."
He closed the phone and stared at it. He really should call her on her cell. But he wasn't sure he was really ready to talk to her. He had a lot more will power than Lewis did, but not when it came to Alex. He set the phone down on the table and left the room. Five minutes later, it rang.
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Thunder, lightning, wind and rain...he watched the storm rage from the diner as he ate his dinner in solitude. He took his time, not really anxious to get back to the motel, knowing she would have called at least once. Lewis would have called her, not only to reassure her, but because it was an excuse to talk to her. He smiled.
After finishing his dinner, he walked back to the motel, enjoying the storm that continued to rage about the town, growing stronger, more violent. When he got back to his room, he sat on the balcony for awhile, watching the sea, illuminated by the storm. He was cold and wet, but he felt calmer. He was ready to talk to her.
It was past nine when he went back inside. He took a hot shower and slid into bed, picking up the phone as he passed the table. Four missed calls, but no voicemail. He didn't have to look to see who had called. Tucking the pillows behind him, he leaned back and pressed the '2' on his keypad. Holding the phone to his ear, he waited for her to answer.
