"Detective, wait, let's just go to 1PP." Regan rubbed her left temple. "I am expecting a phone call from my boss, and it will be easier to talk to him there." That wasn't the reason. They both knew that.
He turned and looked at her with a blank stare. "Ok." He was having a hard time reading her.
One hour, three ibupropen, and one strong cup of coffee later, she was feeling better. She knew she was getting back to normal because THE FIGHT was back.
THE FIGHT had been her name for "it" since she was a young girl. "It"was an overpowering force inside of her and "it" said, "engage, play, fight, control, win, don't give up, don't let anyone get over on you." "It" was the fury inside that refused to accept weakness, or to be soft. Her bad habit of cursing came from THE FIGHT. ( Well, that, and the fact that she grew up with a father who told her brothers, "If the worse thing you do is say the 'F Word' you have a ticket to heaven." Never one to let someone have the last word, she always reminded her father that her four older brothers, had indeed, done much worse than that.)
She knew, of course, that THE FIGHT was a big cover up for another force that had been with her since she was very young- fear. As long as she could remember, every move she made seemed to be peppered with fear. Fear that needed to be overcome. Of course this was insanely ironic, because most people at work would describe her as an agent with "a set of brass ones." It was also incredibly exhausting.
Ignoring had become a life saving skill. As an agent, she had learned to use reason, and to reason, you had to bypass emotional turmoil. She bypassed emotional turmoil by giving it the cold shoulder. Whether it was passion or pain; physical or emotional; she had learned to discount it.
Hadn't Sherlock Holmes said, "… love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true, cold reason which I place above all things"?
Although she was pretty sure that what she was feeling was lust, not love, she was ignoring it all the same. Well, at least she was making a grand attempt.
On the car ride from the D.A.'s office; she praised herself for deciding to have this meeting at 1PP.
Major Case had an interview room that had walls of glass. She chose to meet with him there. She was sure that knowing that everyone was watching would keep her mind focused on business.
But the fact that, at the moment, she was focused on Bobby Goren's big, broad shoulders; and large, sensual hands, had her now thinking otherwise.
Bobby watched her mindlessly run her finger around the rim of her coffee mug. He couldn't stop staring at her birthmark. That large, dark cresent on her left hand was holding him captive. He wanted to grab her hand, kiss the birthmark, and watch it run over his body...
The fact that they were in plain sight of the whole floor was only making the tension worse...
Bobby and Regan jumped at the sound of Regan's phone.
She looked at the phone and then turned to him, "It's the boss, I'm sorry."
He waved his hand and got up. "I'll be back."
He needed the break anyway. He had been talking for an hour. She had asked him about his background, experience, and insights, into profiling and interrogating. It was a subject he welcomed the chance to discuss, since he often felt like the "odd man out" in Major Case. But in the last 15 minutes or so- since she had started stroking the mug-he was distracted.
He strolled out of the room and took a deep breath.
Captain Deakins walked over to him and asked, "How is it going?"
"Oh, fine."
"Did she read you the riot act? She was pretty upset that you and Eames dropped her this week. She wanted to know what you were hiding."
Goren gave a half smile. "Well, she let me know what she thought."
"How was the meeting with Carver?" Deakins saw a shadow cross Goren's face. "He told me McShale took the deal." The Captain waited to see how much Goren would reveal on his own.
Bobby wondered how a simple act of benevolence had turned into such a big issue. He reasoned through the facts of the case again... Melanie Grasso's present life would have been wrecked by a trial; Father McShale needed to hear that in a clear way. Father McShale was serving plenty of time. Justice had been served. THIS situation was why he had a "disregard for authority", as Eames had said earlier in the week. He had made a move that had been beneficial for all. Now: Deakins was questioning him, Eames had accused him, Stabler was furious, and D.A. Carver had threatened his badge. Bobby considered the whole situation to be contemptible.
Bobby shook his head. "Uh, well, the meeting with Carver, was, well, he, he told me McShale took the deal."
"Don't tell me anymore, Detective. Just mind your p's and q's. Oh," Deakins smirked and nodded toward the interview room, "Give the agent a break. Maybe she can actually do something."
Maybe she can. Bobby headed for the soda machine and said to the captain over his shoulder, "I bet she can." Now it was Bobby's turn to smirk.
Regan had just hung up with Tom when the phone rang again. She looked at it.
Elliot. Here we go, she thought. She looked around, Goren was no where to be seen.
She answered. "Hey."
"Ok, what's up?"
She sighed. No one in her family used simple greetings when talking with each other. It was get right down to business. She knew that Elliot REALLY wanted to know what was up. He wasn't making small talk.
She didn't care. She didn't want to get into it now. Small talk it was. She knew it would drive him crazy. She smiled at the prospect, and said lightly,"Not much here, what is going on with you guys?"
"Regan…" she heard the frustration in his voice.
"What?" she said in her sweetest tone.
"Cut the crap. I haven't heard from you in days. You have been in New York for over a week, and we haven't seen you. Why?"
Because, she thought to herself, Because if I come over you will see all the things I am hiding from you.
There was no escaping it. She would have to see him. The truth was, she wanted to see him, and his family- she always saw them when she was in New York. But he always wanted to know everything. She wasn't a kid anymore. She would have to prepare for the interrogation to come. "I am leaving tomorrow. How about if I stay over tonight?"
"You know that is fine, but you still haven't answered- WHY?" She heard the concern in his voice. She felt bad now. She knew he would do anything for her.
"Elliot, this isn't an easy assignment, and you know I don't even want to be here." And if you knew I was falling for Bobby Goren, you would freak out and pull your overprotective big brother crap.
"Fine. We will talk later. Dickie and Lizzie have a basketball game tonight, want to come?"
She was excited. "Yes! I definitely want to come! What time and where?" Goren had come back into the room.
"I will have Kathy call you; I'm not even sure myself."
"Ok, see you then," she decided to throw him a bone. "I love you."
"You too." And he hung up, without saying good-bye. She smiled.
"Hot date?" Goren asked.
"Something like that. Sorry about the interruption, Detective. Can we talk just a bit more?"
"Well," he laid his hands flat on the table. He was bored with talking about himself. He was ready to play. " Agent Stabler. The way I see it, you owe me. You butt into my case, followed me to the D.A.'s office, and you, you have taken up my afternoon."
She mirrored his pose and put her hands on the table. He looked down at the birthmark and caught his breath. He moved his hands toward hers, just slightly. She noticed. She looked down at the hands. He leaned down and caught her eyes. He drew them back up.
She stared into his eyes. "Wh, what do you want?" Yes, she did it, she mirrored his stammer. She wasn't sure that his charming geekiness wasn't a ruse to get information. If he wanted a showdown of the interrogators, he would get it. Ignore. She ignored the change in her breathing.
He noticed it. He changed his breathing to match hers.
She waited. She would not let the silence coax her into talking.
He put his chin in his hands and leaned forward. She smells good. He knew that she had a strong auditory response, so he lowered his voice, "I want... I want," he paused and watched her reaction.
Damn him for using that voice. She may or may not be faking him out with her obvious, outward reactions; but her body was having some very definite reactions that couldn't be seen. She put her chin in her hands but scooted her chair away from the table. She was aware that the two of them could be seen here. She wasn't going to ruin her reputation for a game.
He sat back up, raised one eyebrow and said, "I want you to call me Bobby." He lowered his voice said her name for the first time, half mockingly, half seductively, "Regan."
She sat back and raised one eyebrow as well. "Ok, at least for the moment,"and she lowered her voice, "Bobby... What do I get now?"
His eyes sparkled. He looked at her. She was tenacious, full of energy. What is it like to be inside of, surrounded by, all that tenacity? He had to put a stop to that line of thinking...for now. He adjusted his coat and didn't break eye contact.
"Now you can ask me another question." He noticed the flash in her eyes. He saw it, she couldn't hide it, she liked turning control over to him, at least for a while.
Her whole body was full of heat. They were in a battle for control. He's winning, for now. I don't care. I like it. She wanted to push it... she leaned forward, lowered her voice again, and asked, "What did Carver say to you this morning?" She stared.
Blindsided. He sat back, blinked, and recovered. Give her what she wants. What the hell. "He said he'd have my badge if I did that again."
She saw the shadow go across his face.
For an instant, he saw concern in her.
He was moved, but she was still hiding things. "What happened to your left ear?"
Now it was her turn to be blindsided. The blood drained from her face, her eyes looked like a storm.
Now he was serious. He wanted to know.
She saw compassion and questioning on his face. Recover Regan. Game face. "I , it got injured, in an accident."
She was lying. But he knew that was all that she would say. His guard went back up.
"Ok, your turn," he said.
She saw the game was over. She felt sick, and now her left temple was starting to throb. Damn him. "Why, how did you know-about my ear?"
"The phone call. You are left handed but you held the phone with your right hand and put it up to your right ear. Your headache this morning… and now."
She realized she was rubbing her left temple. She put her hand down.
He smiled.
She was exhausted. "Go ahead," she said.
He felt for her, but he wasn't giving this up. "How did you know?"
"What?"she was confused.
"About the deal, McShale." He wanted to know how she had figured it out.
"Oh that wasn't hard. After all, you figured it out. I figured it out the same way. How did you know about McShale and Grasso? It was easy to check out the evidence box that you and Eames pulled. But what really gave it away was you." She wanted to make him feel vulnerable in the way that she did right now. Her head was spinning.
"Me?" He looked at her, waiting.
She pointed to his desk. " You, reading the Bible right there. Your voice; your compassion for the church. You have a soft spot for goodness, kindness, heart- the things of faith. I figured that you would have protected everyone's faith, if you could. You wouldn't have let Melanie's life, the faith of her family, be destroyed. And McShale, well, you gave him a chance to preserve his faith as well, I would assume."
He was contemplative. He wasn't sure anyone had ever paid that much attention to him. Not like that. Not that kind of attention.
She recovered some pride at her success. But now she was truly touched. "Go ahead," she offered.
He was soft. There was a gleam in his eyes. "You know what? I think I'm done."