Bobby Goren sighed, and stared out of the window at the inky blackness outside. Beside him, Alex Eames was slumbering peacefully under an airplane blanket, as were most of the people on the flight. He always found it difficult to sleep on planes; a dozy sort of drowsing was usually the best he ever managed. These weren't the best of circumstances. A difficult case, an unknown situation they were going into, and…
…and the fact that he was on a plane from New York to London, just like his lover had been almost exactly two years ago. For all he knew, he thought morosely, it could have been the same plane and the exact same seat he was sitting in now.
I should be over this by now, he thought. It had been two years. For the first year or so, he'd thought he was coping pretty well, after the initial month or so of misery. But this last year, his thoughts seemed to be returning to her more and more.
He had so many memories of her. Sienna in bed, Sienna eating pancakes in the kitchen in his apartment, which had become their apartment, Sienna out with him, exploring the city, Sienna on holiday with him.
Oddly enough, though, he thought, the one memory that stuck with him was not a memory of Sienna, but a memory of one morning, shortly after she'd moved in with him. He'd walked into work as usual, smiling happily at the memory of how the morning had gone so far… you awake, Bobby? Not really… well, part of me is… mmm yes, so I can feel, why don't you just lie there, love, I'll do all the work… never shy about taking the lead, his Sienna, and if there was a better way to start the day than having a gorgeous redhead climb on top of you, he hadn't found it.
As he'd walked in, he'd noticed that Eames was already at her desk, reading through case notes and smiling, a little private smile he'd noticed her wearing before. He now knew the cause of it. Like he had been at the time, she was involved with someone; Steve Vallis, an Englishman who worked as a consultant on Russian law and culture for US businesses and law enforcement. He paused for a minute to look at her, his partner in work as Sienna was his partner in his domestic life, and was suddenly struck by a strange but irresistible feeling of rightness.
He suddenly felt as though all the pieces of his life had fallen into place, as though his entire life so far had led up to this moment. He had battled through the worst times – his childhood, his mother's illness, his father's desertion, his own long struggle to carve a career for himself despite the way people always seemed to perceive him as strange – and now this was his reward. He was here, doing the perfect job for him, for his mind and abilities. And not only that, he was surrounded by the right people. Eames was his partner at work and his greatest friend. Sienna was his partner at home, his lover and also his friend. It didn't exactly hurt his ego to think that these two incredible women felt the same way about him, even if they did bust his chops on a regular basis.
In James Deakins, he had a boss who understood him, who saw him as an asset to the department, not a liability. In ADA Carver… he had often thought before that he needed someone like Carver, though the two of them might often butt heads and each often regarded the other as impossible to work with. He respected Carver's mind, knowing only too well that he needed someone equally as smart as he was to keep him in check occasionally, stop him going too far.
As for his family… he had done what he could for his mother, and whilst he would always regret how things had turned out for his family, at least he had never turned his back on her, the way some families of mentally ill people did. And he had friends, Lewis, Dr Hoffman, ex-army buddies from his previous career, and hobbies, too; he read, he went running sometimes, he occasionally persuaded Sienna to put her heels on and go dancing with him…
…and since then, he thought bitterly, it had all gone downhill. He wouldn't have thought that the loss of one person from your life could cast a cloud over the rest of it, but it had.
But what could he do, he thought? What could either of them have done? Sienna had been so uncomfortable around the issue of his mother's illness. Every time he left to go visit her, Sienna looked unhappy and confused. How could they ever have had a future, if she was so uncomfortable around the issue even though he'd done his best to spare her from seeing what schizophrenia could do to a person? More than once, he'd thought of taking her to visit his mother, to see if that would help her understand that sufferers could still retain some of their personality, that they were still people, despite what the illness did to their minds… but she had just never seemed ready, and if she couldn't face up to it, then what chance was there than she could ever really understand him? Understand how it, and what it had done to his mother, and, secretly, what he'd feared until recently it might one day do to him, had shaped his life?
Besides, he thought, it wouldn't have helped. He'd known when he started their relationship that he was being selfish. Acting like any other man when faced with a lovely young woman who wanted him, not just physically, but for himself… what had he been thinking, starting a relationship when he'd known all along that he could never carry it through to its obvious conclusion?
Sienna had been twenty-six when they'd met. She would now be thirty. If she didn't have children already, she would be wanting them soon, and he knew she did want them eventually, that (and the thought was agony) she had wanted them with him. Of all the men someone so lovely, so smart, could have chosen, she had wanted him for her children's father.
There had been times when he had come close to hating her for that. Hating her for holding out in front of him something he had always wanted, but always known he had to deny himself. He could not, ever, risk passing on schizophrenia to his children.
He sighed painfully. One of the most difficult conversations he had had recently had been with his mother. She was going through one of her better phases; she would never, ever, be completely well, never be able to leave Carmel Ridge, but lately a new drug regime and some new therapies seemed to be helping a little. When he had visited recently, she had at least seemed a little more aware of who he really was. Once or twice, she had even called him "Robbie", a name no-one but she had ever called him.
He would always remember a short exchange between them. She had asked, "How old are you now, Robbie?" and he'd replied "Forty-four, Mom".
She had smiled, a sad little smile he'd ached to see, knowing only too well that she was thinking I can't remember my own son's age, and replied "Good. I'm so glad you made it this far. You don't have children, do you?"
"No, Mom. I don't."
She'd simply smiled, and sighed a sigh of relief. And he'd understood perfectly.
Sienna, I'm so sorry, he thought miserably, and gritted his teeth. He would not give in to his personal feelings. Ranjit and Miya Elahi deserved a detective who would focus properly on finding their killer.
But still… he reached a decision. He would focus completely on the case, as he was supposed to. And if there was time at the end of it… he would find Sienna if he could, not to rekindle their relationship, but to see how she was doing and give the two of them the chance to achieve closure, to use that phrase beloved of therapists.
He hoped that, whatever she was doing now, she was happy.
