It had been a brief memorial at the church, which was good because the small building was full. Goren didn't like being around a lot of people if he didn't have to be, especially people he did not know. He was already on edge, and Eames had watched him shift and fidget throughout the ceremony. She had finally managed to settle him down by slipping her arm under his suit jacket, untucking his shirt and lightly rubbing his back. He had shuddered at her touch, but he'd leaned his head against hers and quit fidgeting.
The drive to the cemetery started in silence. She kept glancing over at him, but he was just sitting there, staring out the window with his right fist pressed against his mouth. "I'm right here, Bobby," she finally said. "I'm not going anywhere, you know."
"I-I know. But..." He trailed off.
"But what?"
"I-I don't know what I'd do...without you."
He didn't elaborate, so she pressed him. "Keep going."
He tried to order his jumbled thoughts, but he wasn't having much success and that annoyed him. "Losing Emily has been hard for me...but for different reasons. I-I don't deal well with this, for one."
"With departure."
He nodded. "The permanance of death. It's going to be difficult for me when my mother dies...but I have been trying to prepare for it. This, I wasn't prepared for. I-I knew it was coming...but four months just isn't enough time. N-not for me."
"You got close to her quickly. That's not like you, either. You don't let people in, Bobby. Everything about your relationship with Emily was..." She searched for the right word, finally finding it. "Intense."
"Thanks to you," he muttered.
She frowned at him. "What? Why is this my fault?"
"Because I did let you in, Eames. I never meant to but you got there...right into my damn heart. And when I thought you left...I couldn't handle it. I...I never meant to let her in, either. But...I saw you in her...and I couldn't keep her out. I...I needed someone...be-because it just...hurt so damn bad."
She wasn't sure if she was annoyed or sympathetic. "So you blame me...?"
"No!" he exclaimed, louder than he intended. He calmed quickly. "I don't blame you...I acknowledge the role you played inside my head...inside my heart...but I-I can't blame you because you didn't do anything."
She was quiet for awhile. "So what are you going to do, Bobby?"
He shrugged. "What can I do? You're in...I can't kick you out. I-I don't want to."
"You also can't put me in your pocket and keep me right there all the time."
"I know," he said, almost inaudibly.
She sighed. "Let's just get through the rest of the funeral right now. But I want you to remember that I'm right here. Okay? I'm not in that casket. I'm not Emily, and I never was."
"I know that, Eames. Really. I do. I-I'm trying here, all right? Give me a break."
She flipped on her turn signal to turn into the cemetery. She didn't say anything more.
They got out of the car and looked around as the people around them did the same. She watched him settle back into being stressed and uncomfortable. She decided on sympathy rather than annoyance. This was hard for him...and it wasn't entirely his doing. Just mostly.
Like the ceremony at the church, the graveside service was brief. The sky was gray and rain threatened, making the forty-eight degree temperature seem colder. After the benediction, people began to disperse, talking among themselves in small groups as they headed back for the cars. "Detectives?"
They turned to face a large man, wearing a pressed suit, bolo tie and cowboy boots. He held out his hand and spoke with a slow Texas drawl. He struck Eames as a cross between Arthur Branch and LBJ. "Randolph Stewart, Travis County DA."
No wonder he recognized them as cops. In turn they accepted his firm handshake. "You are Emily's friends from New York?"
"Yes," Eames answered. "I'm Alex Eames. This is Bobby Goren."
Stewart studied Goren. "Emily had nice things to say about you. It made me feel better knowing she hadn't been in the mountains alone. Did you know she was sick then?"
"No, I didn't."
"She was a real piece of work, let me tell you. Never listened to anybody. She did her own thing, her own way. Tough as nails and a great ADA. I called her my little maverick."
Goren nodded. "She had spirit."
"They told me you were both with her when she died."
Eames nodded. "She wanted us to stay."
"That's good. I'm glad she wasn't alone. I would have been there, but I wasn't able to get away. She had no family...but we took her to our hearts."
"That wasn't hard to do," Goren said softly.
Stewart studied him. "Got to you, did she?"
He just nodded. Eames could see his struggle and continued the conversation, as was her habit from years of working with her introspective partner. "She managed to make an impression on all of us, but Bobby knew her better than the rest of us did."
"Um, excuse me," Goren muttered, more than uncomfortable with the conversation.
Eames watched him walk off, toward the casket, which was a few yards away. Stewart looked at her. She sighed. "He's more sensitive than he lets on," she explained. "It's hard for him to say good-bye."
"More than one of us has struggled with this particular good-bye. Week after Christmas will be one year since her diagnosis. Uh, if you don't mind my asking...how close was your friend to her? She always avoided answering my questions about him...but I got the impression he was more than a friend."
"He was, and he wasn't. She helped him through a hard time and she came to love him. He loved her, too, but in a different way."
Stewart nodded. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter any more."
She looked at the lawyer. "It does to him," she said quietly.
He watched her walk off to join her friend. For a few moments, he watched them interact...her hand on his back...him bending toward her, hand resting on her hip...He was and he wasn't...and that would be why. He smiled to himself and turned away, heading for his car.
Goren drew his thumb across her bare skin, just above the waist of her pants, where his hand was resting. She looked up into his eyes. "Are you okay?"
He shifted his gaze toward the casket. "I will be. I just don't know how to say good-bye."
"It's not easy."
"Not when you care about the person you're saying good-bye to."
She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, enjoying the feel of his caressing thumb. "Go ahead, Bobby. I'll wait in the car."
She stepped away from his side and he resisted the urge to tighten his arm around her so she would stay. She hesitated next to the casket, whispered good-bye, and walked toward the car. He sighed heavily. He wasn't sure he had intended to do this alone, but Eames seemed to think he needed to. He trusted her judgment; he always had.
His eyes slowly perused the casket. Maple...beautifully polished...brass hardware...lots of flowers...she would have liked all the flowers. He bent over and pulled a single red rose from the flowers surrounding the casket. He laid it gently by itself in the center of the polished wood lid. "I really hope you found your Chris again, counsellor. I know that's what you wanted. I guess I've already said everything worth saying, except maybe thank you, again." He leaned down and placed a kiss on the casket. "Rest in peace, Emily. Good-bye."
He headed back toward the car, where Eames was waiting for him. He wasn't at all sure how he was feeling. All he knew was that he didn't want her away from him for very long. It was an unsettling feeling, and he hated feeling unsettled. He climbed into the passenger seat and remained silent while she started the car and pulled away from the side of the drive. He knew she was watching him, knew she was waiting for him to say something, anything, but no words would come to him. So the silence remained between them, unbroken.
