Point of View: Robert Goren only

Here we are - our first interrogation since I've returned.

What if I can't do this? It is one thing to think the old mojo is there but what if I fall flat on my face? What if I lose a word? What if I miss a "tell?"

I know it is illogical but I have this fear in the back of my mind…what if I have another stroke? We were interrogating Mr. Berber in this very room when it happened. What if there is brain damage this time? I hang back, stand in the corner and watch you question our suspect.

Mr. Thomas is a pro-life activist, a deacon of his church (which the Mayor also happens to attend) and father of a 16 year girl who is missing. We can prove that Mr. Thomas took his daughter to get an abortion at an unlicensed, backstreet clinic. We believe he did this because he was too embarrassed to be seen entering one of the clinics he had previously picketed. We also believe that things went wrong and his daughter died as a result of a botched procedure. We need him to confess where her body is.

Abortion rights is a touchy subject for you. I watch you grill him, your disgust is blatant. You want him to admit that he is wrong and he wants you to agree he is right. We are at an impasse.

Out of habit, without conscious thought, I enter the conversation. "Mr. Thomas, she is talking about the big picture. I'm interested in the small picture. We need to locate your daughter. I know that you want to help us do that."

It was so easy. Once I started, it came as naturally as breathing. I guided him where I wanted him to go, until he backed himself right into a corner. An hour later, Mr. Thomas tells us he buried his daughter in the empty field behind his Vermont vacation home.

I am free - free from the worry, the self-doubt, the fear weighing me down. I thought this high, the high from cornering the bad guy, was lost to me forever when I woke up in that hospital room two months ago.

And there you are, smiling from ear-to-ear at me. You know how I am feeling inside. Although you would never confess it, you were probably holding your breath.

We knew Ross was watching from the other side of the glass. He was worried too. "Congratulations Detectives. Good interview. Finish up your paperwork and take the rest of the day off."

You offer to finish up the paperwork for me but I tell you that I will stay. I have things to say to you but I need time to gather my words and my courage.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

We are almost to my apartment and I still haven't spoken up. Time is running out.

"Well, good night Bobby."

"Uhm….would you like to come up? I think I've got enough food in my refrigerator that I can throw something together to feed us. That is if you don't mind salt-free, taste-free food. "

You smile. "Sure. That sounds nice."

Later, as I serve up all your favorites, you eye me suspiciously. You realize that I must have planned this meal hoping you would agree to coming up.

"It felt good being back in the interrogation room with you Bobby."

I guess this is the time for the conversation. Setting down my fork, I say, "Eames...I haven't really thanked you…for everything you did."

You appear to be as nervous as me. "There's no need Bobby. You'd do the same for me."

"You know that I would but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to hear the words."

"Alex, I've never had someone in my life that I could count on. I've always been the caregiver, the supporter, the fixer. I'm not very good at letting someone else be those things for me." These words come from my heart which isn't often given a voice.

"Really" you say with a smile.

I smile back at your attempt to lighten the mood but I need to finish this thought. "I know that remaining my partner has cost you a lot professionally and personally. I am lucky that you have stayed with me all these years."

"Bobby, I've stayed with you because I get something out of this...relationship too. I'm not very good at letting someone else take care of me either. In case you hadn't noticed."

Don't I know it.

"We're a pair, Bobby. I'm afraid that no one else will have us. I think we are just stuck with each other. Now what is for dessert?"

I bring out a jumbo bag of Skittles.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The End

Thank you to everyone who shared their personal experiences with stroke survivors. I appreciate the generosity you showed to me.