Remember Me?
Author: spookycc
Summary: Years ago, Robert Goren sent away a notorious drug dealer. But not without parole…
Spoilers: References to Endgame, Brother's Keeper
Time line: This story takes place after US Season 6, before Amends.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here, except for Gene Palmer, who is my own creation. The LOCI characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC/USA/Universal. I'm just taking them for a spin, and I'll return them relatively unharmed. ;-)
Italics are first-person Bobby Goren.
Reviews devoured - I'm still trying to hit my stride channeling Goren.
Author's Notes:
I'm thinkin' Bobby would live pretty close to 1PP. But Manhattan is kinda pricey on an NYPD salary, so I housed him next door, in da Bronx. And I gave him a vehicle, a truck, since his long legs would get cramped in a car. And cuz he looked damn fine driving their SUV, in "Amends". ;-)
I know nothing about illegal drugs other than what I researched for this story and others, so please forgive blatant mistakes about interactions, effects, etc... The first-person accounts are actual accounts from former addicts, just tweaked so they sounded more like Goren.
music now playing: "Bliss" ("I Don't Wanna Know"), by Hinder.
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Remember Me? -Chapter 2
Rural Cabin
Near Fillmore Glen State Park
Moravia NY
Bobby stumbled back to the bed and landed unceremoniously on his ass.
What the hell is going on?!!? What the hell is happening?. Everything is so far away. I can't really make out what is going on around me, but it feels like there is a lot happening. There is movement and noise, I just can't quite tell what it is. Who is that? What is that noise? I am confused, like coming to after an all-consuming psychedelic experience. I can see, but I am not quite sure what is real and what isn't. Everything has a strange feel to it and I can't quite recognize where I am. Hell, I can't even quite put my finger on who I am.
Goren's muzzled musings were interrupted by the amused voice of his captor. "Do you know why it's called 'heroin', Bobby?"
Goren shook his head slowly, although fuzzily aware that he did indeed, once, know the answer to Palmer's question.
"Cuz the dude who synthesized it, in Germany, said the people who used it felt heroic. Kinda ironic, huh? You're what most people would call 'heroic'."
Goren didn't feel heroic, but then he didn't really feel anything. He let his head fall back against the wall, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. The irony was lost on him, at least for now. He was experiencing a numbness, in mind and body, that was similar to the times in his life when he'd been roaring drunk, and also to the few times he'd experimented with drugs, many years before. He felt strangely OK, without a care, and even his hazy mind told him that was unusual. He felt as though nothing could bother him, and he felt no pain, emotional or physical.
Goren glanced up and smiled the smallest smile, in spite of his situation. Palmer grinned back at him. "What d'ya think, Bobby? Heroin is both good and evil, Angel and Demon. Do you love her yet?"
Goren just sighed, and his eyes slipped closed. He was riding slow, relaxing waves lapping at the edge of the ocean. He nodded off to sleep.
When he awoke, he was secured once more, this time to the bed...
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Major Case Squad room
1 Police Plaza
Manhattan, NYC
"Eames!"
Captain Danny Ross' voice filled the bullpen, and Alex Eames winced involuntarily. She walked toward his office, already knowing the reason for her summons, and already worried.
"Where the hell is your partner?" Ross closed the door behind her.
"I wish to hell I knew, Captain." If he was shocked by her own use of the H-word, he didn't show it. "I've tried calling his cell all morning long. It goes straight to voice mail, it's probably turned off. No answer at his home, either."
"That's not like Goren," Ross mused.
Eames resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'd like to go to his apartment, sir, just to make sure nothing's wrong."
Ross nodded. "Do it. Take Logan with you."
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Robert Goren's Apartment
The Bronx, NYC
Eames was actually a bit relieved to see Bobby's truck gone when she pulled up to his building. That was an indicator at the very least that he had probably gone wherever the hell he was of his own free will.
She and Logan stopped at Goren's door, and she rang the buzzer. When she received no response, which was as she expected, she used her own copy of Goren's key to let herself in. She ignored Logan's raised eyebrow and they checked the apartment out.
Eames was in the kitchen when Logan called her back to the foyer area. "Check this out, Eames." He held a piece of paper in his now-gloved hand.
A chill ran down Eames' spine as she read the note that her partner had read just the day before. "Let's take it back, dust it for prints." Logan picked up the envelope, as well.
Maybe the sender had been stupid enough to lick the adhesive and they could pull some DNA from it. They checked Goren's land-line answering machine before they left - there were no messages.
Eames rammed their SUV through midtown traffic and back to 1PP. They dropped the envelope and note off, and went back up to the 11th floor to report their findings to Ross.
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Remote Cabin
Moravia NY
"Hey it looks like you need another dose, Bobby. Happy to oblige." Palmer stepped into Goren's line of vision, needle in hand, and uncuffed the detective's hands from the bed.
Goren resisted the urge - with a will he didn't know he possessed anymore - to put his arm out for the needle. He couldn't beg. He wouldn't beg.
"You WILL beg for it, Bobby." It was as if Palmer had read the detective's mind. "You WILL."
He pulled the tourniquet around Goren's arm, noting with pleasure that the big cop didn't even try to resist. The plunger hissed, and so did the breath escaping Goren's lips as he awaited the rush...
Nothing can touch me. I'm invincible. I hear him place the syringe on the table, but I can't bring myself to open my eyes yet. As he places it on the table, I notice how odd it sounds. It doesn't echo... It's a mocking sound. The syringe is trying to laugh at me... the syringe is trying to make me feel bad, too... but it can't, nothing can. I remember from working Narcotics, that people always try to put into words the feeling heroin brings them.. that's just the problem.. it doesn't.. It's the most intense nothingness there ever was.
I let out a sigh. I have no idea how long I had been holding my breath. The breath that comes out of my mouth is warm... I'm warm... I'm engulfed in a sea of what seems to be warm liquid.
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Major Case Squad room
1 Police Plaza
Manhattan, NYC
Eames looked up from her computer, waiting - not patiently - for the prints or DNA results from the lab. She knew she had priority over any other case right now, but still the waiting seemed endless, as she poked through Goren's arrests record to find any
information that might be pertinent.
They already had a solid short-list of possible perps. But even the short-list was too long. Eames and Logan eliminated the few who were the least likely suspects, but they still had too many on their plate.
Finally, Logan dashed into the squad room, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.
"Palmer - it's Palmer!" Eames ripped the paper from Logan's hand. No DNA, but they had a four-point match on a print. And he was already on their list.
"Any address on him?" Logan asked needlessly. Eames was already typing frantically, pulling up any information they had on Palmer.
"Last known is a girlfriend's SRO in Flushing, Queens." Eames scanned the screen quickly, but found no additional information. She jotted down the address.
Logan briefed Ross, and the two took off. They found the dumpy apartment furnished sparsely, but otherwise abandoned. Eames balled up the address note and threw it in frustration. "Damn! A dead end!"
"Let's check it out," Logan walked further inside.
Eames opened the refrigerator and sniffed in disgust at the half-rotten food within it.
"They haven't eaten here recently."
Logan sat at the lone table, on a three-legged chair that barely supported his weight. He looked at the table top and then tilted his head in an unconsciously Goren-like manner, and looked closer.
Powder.
Logan dipped his finger in the tiny amount, and smelled it. "Probably heroin."
This wasn't a surprise. "Heroin was what Palmer was dealing when Goren shut him down," Eames observed tightly.
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Remote Cabin
Moravia NY
Goren awoke to a rumbling in his stomach, and another need... one he couldn't quite define, in his confused state.
When his eyes could focus, he saw a figure seated at a table in the center of the room.
Goren blinked a couple times, and then his body reminded him why that figure was there.
"Hey, Bobby,' Palmer looked up cheerfully. "Glad you're back, I miss your sparkling conversation."
Goren licked his lips and said nothing.
"Ya know, your silence is just an added bonus in this whole thing. You always talked too much. The detective who could coerce an innocent man into confessing to a crime he'd never even committed. With nothing but that silver tongue of yours, and your cunning intellect," Palmer smiled at the bound detective.
"Doesn't help you much NOW, does it?" he leered.
"I... I ne..." Goren's words were slurred, but Palmer knew what he was fighting.
"I know what you need, Bobby. But you know what I'm waiting for. Beg, You have to beg if you want more."
Goren swallowed a gulp of air.
"C'mon, you KNOW you want it." Palmer filled a syringe and sat beside Goren, held the syringe in front of the older man's face.
The detective shook his head back and forth. "Need... n..."
"I said 'beg'." Palmer pushed.
Goren took a huge breath, and drew on all his willpower. "No."
Palmer laughed in his face. "What?"
"No... won't- beg..." Goren fought every fiber of his being. His body was calling for more... just one more dose...
"Well, this wasn't nearly as enjoyable as I'd hoped, but it's your choice." Palmer set the syringe back on the table, not missing the way Goren's neck muscles strained as he watched him lay the needle down.
He patted Goren on the head, as if he was a little child. "Hey, I'll be back in awhile. Gotta get some food. Not for you..."
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Sometime later, Goren awoke to pain, and couldn't remember the last time he had even felt pain. His arms and wrists felt like hell. He looked up and saw his wrists cuffed together, and then secured to the headboard with what looked like a simple rope.
"Shit." Goren stretched his arms as much as he could, and winced as the cuffs cut into his wrists.
Palmer was nowhere to be seen. Goren was at first relieved at this, then worried. He needed what Palmer offered. He didn't want to need it. But there was the dilemna...
Throughout the next several hours, Goren went through brief periods when he felt very much himself, and very much screwed. Then, just as fast, muscle cramps would course through him, and he would be alternately hot and cold, shivering miserably.
When Goren had been high, the bonds that held him had meant nothing - he was so relaxed, it was almost as if they didn't even exist. But now - now his body thrashed restlessly, riding the waves of nausea and physical pain that his withdrawal caused.
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Major Case Squad room
1 Police Plaza
Manhattan, NYC
"I've got it!" Eames pulled a piece of paper from a stack on her desk, and jotted down the information from her laptop. "Palmer's dad had a cabin. Upstate. Somewhere near Fillmore Glen State Park."
She did a lightning-speed internet search, and grabbed the map and directions almost before they were done printing. "I have directions to the park. After that, we'll have to split up and check out the whole area."
Logan informed Ross of their findings, and the captain dispatched nearly his entire squad to accompany Logan and Eames to the park. Ross remembered grimly that day when he had deployed Major Case to Eames' apartment, after her kidnapping at the hands of the daughter of Goren's old mentor. That had been in Ross' first week at Major Case, and he'd almost lost one of his detectives. He shook off the unhelpful thoughts...
Lights... sirens... the convoy of police vehicles arrived at Fillmore Glen State Park. In this season, the park was a sea of campers and hikers. They drew curious glances from the nature-lovers.
They split the map into grids, and drove off in pairs to search the surrounding wooded areas...
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Remote Cabin
Moravia NY
Perhaps it was fated that Logan and Eames should be the ones to find the cabin they sought. If that's what the ramshackle building now in front of them was.
Eames knew that they should wait for back-up. But there was no cell signal out here. And she feared that Goren didn't have much time. So they parked as close to the cabin as they dared, and pulled out their weapons. Goren's truck was not there, nor were there any other vehicles in the clearing. There were tire tracks. Both sets were from truck or SUV tires.
She wasn't sure what to expect when they opened the cabin door - an ambush, an empty building. In the near-total darkness, they actually saw almost nothing.
She heard something, though, and flipped on her pocket flashlight, holding it above her gun. Another sound - a moan, low and keening.
She looked at Logan, who gazed back at her with worried eyes. She shone the flashlight around the cabin, and her breath caught in her throat. In the far corner was a bed, and secured to that bed was Robert Goren.
Palmer could still be here - Logan scanned the room quickly. They appeared to be alone. Eames ran to the bed and holstered her weapon, sitting down beside her bound partner. Logan stood right behind her, watching them, but also watching the room.
"Oh, God, Bobby," Eames pulled out her handcuff keys and released his wrists. Dark red marks lined them. He had struggled - a lot. Logan stalked the four corners of the cabin and then returned to the pair.
"The place is clear," Logan informed her. "Palmer's gone."
Eames did not turn her attention from her partner. Goren's eyes were slightly glazed over, and his pupils were dilated. His expression was one of undisguised pain.
Eames rested her hands on either side of her partner's head, as Logan untied his feet. "Fever - he's burning up."
"Bobby, it's me. We're gonna get you out of here, OK?" She pulled his hands into her own, and then saw the needle tracks on his arms. "No - Damn! Palmer shot him up."
Logan grimly assessed the marks, and then returned to untying Goren's legs. At that moment, Goren's body spasmed, as pain ripped through him. Eames held him in her arms, and rode through it with him.
"He's going through withdrawal." Logan did not attempt to disguise his worry.
Eames released her hold on her partner, just a bit. "We'd better take him to the hospital ourselves. We can call in as soon as we have a signal."
"Here - let me," Logan picked Goren up, with a little difficulty. The big detective was heavier by more than a few pounds, and he was dead weight. Logan sped up his pace, determined to get Goren to help.
Eames got in the back seat of their SUV, and Logan gently loaded her partner in beside her, and then jumped in the driver's seat and turned the engine over.
Goren's body shook uncontrollably, and his face was flush with fever. Eames reached behind the back seat, and pulled a blanket from the back of the SUV. She tucked it in around her partner, as she pulled his head into her lap. "It's okay, you're okay..." She rested her fingers on his wrist - his pulse was fast.
Her clinical side knew it as a withdrawal symptom, just like the fever. That information didn't make it any easier to bear. Knowing was one thing. Witnessing the affects on her partner was something else entirely. Goren's eyes, when they were open, were very dilated, and he was still "out of it".
Eames heard Logan as though his voice was in another room, calling in to Ross as soon as they had cell signal - to let him know they'd found Goren, and were on their way to the hospital.
The nearest hospital was almost fifteen miles away, in Cortland - Eames had researched that on their way upstate. It seemed like much longer, even though Logan had the pedal to the metal and the flasher on.
Bobby's arms thrashed about within the blanket, as his cold chill was replaced by a hot flash, and he fought to escape the warmth. Eames pulled the blanket down a little, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with her fingers. By the time his arms finally relaxed a bit, muscle spasms wracked his legs, and they tensed and relaxed beneath the blanket, as though he was trying to run.
Perhaps he was, in a way... trying to run away... back to whatever state the drug had induced. It had to be easier on him than the trials of his "normal" life. He had become more withdrawn after his mother died, and Eames was heartbroken that he hadn't allowed her to help him. He'd closed himself off, like he always did. It was Goren's way.
Eames shook her head and brought herself back to the present. Her partner... her friend... laid limply in her arms, helpless as a kitten, seeming so much smaller than he normally did. She ran her fingers softly through his sweaty, gray-black hair. "We're almost there, OK? Hang in there, Bobby."
How much longer until they got to the hospital?
tbc