A/N: Okay, to avoid confusion, the first scene takes place after Bobby left Alex's apartment in the previous chapter, and then goes from there.
Also, please don't kill me, or Bobby! The way I see it, Bobby's in a pretty vulnerable place right now because he has no defenses like he would if he had a memory. He's allowed, I believe, to make mistakes. He's allowed to question himself and his life and the people in it.
Okay, and on that note, enjoy!
Adrian's
Park Slope, Brooklyn
He'd been at the pub off 5th Avenue, which was situated between a diner and a coffee shop, for half an hour before she arrived. During the time he had two beers and tons of time to think about what he was going to ask of her.
He saw her enter and look around as she pulled off her gloves. From his spot at a booth in the back of the pub, he could see her but she couldn't see him. It was too dark in the corner. Getting up, he headed toward her until their eyes met; waving her back, he stood and waited for her to walk up to him.
"Thanks for coming."
"I almost didn't," Melanie told him as she let him help her with her coat. "If I had known you were going to drag me out into a snowstorm I never would've given you my number."
She was teasing him, he could tell, but he could also tell that she was nervous about something. Once they were seated, and he ordered himself another beer and her an Irish coffee, he asked, "You've seen the news, haven't you?"
She looked startled but then sighed as she gave a nod. "CNN. It's worldwide now. They're calling you a fugitive."
"And you still came?" Looking around the pub, toward the door, and at the other patrons, he didn't think he spotted any cops hanging around.
"No one knows I"m here, Robert. I didn't call the police. I came because I don't think you did it. After you left the library, I did a history search of what you were researching on the internet. You don't know who you are, do you?"
He took a sip of the beer as he fought down his panic. There was no lie coming from her; at least he didn't think there was. He didn't see it in her. All he saw was genuine honesty. "No, I don't. I woke up Monday morning with no memory of my life. Then, next thing I know, I'm wanted for two murders that I don't remember ever committing."
She was quiet for a moment before asking, "Do you think you did it?"
He shrugged as he honestly told her, "I have no idea what I've done. Maybe, maybe not, that's what I'm trying to figure out. No matter the outcome, I want to know the truth."
"How about friends? Is there anyone you can call who can help you?" she asked.
"I don't know, I mean..." he trailed off as he thought about Eames. He wasn't sure what was going on with them; and if he thought about it too hard, he felt the fear of that night creeping into his heart and head. He was afraid that he'd ruined every amount of trust she had in him because of what he'd done. He had left...He shouldn't have left. "There's someone but...I uh, I've got an address book with a lot of names and numbers. I'm not sure who I can trust. Who are friends and who would be willing to sell me out, you know."
Melanie reached out and stilled the hand he was tapping on the table. Looking up at her, he stared into her eyes as she told him, "I can help. If you want, I'll call the numbers for you."
It took him a moment to get over his shock before he asked "You would do that?" He had invited her there hoping for her help, but he didn't think it would be so easy.
"Yes, of course. Like I told you before, we're friends. And you need help."
"I'm a fugitive. You could get into some serious trouble...Aiding me, that's a felony."
That had been something he'd thought about after leaving Eames. She had risked it all for him as well by offering to hide in from the police, in her own home. Eames had also committed a felony by helping him. But, she was a cop, so maybe she was also playing him. There could have been someone staked out on her place, watching them, watching him, and who could have followed him from Rockaway. He had taken extra precautions on his way to Park Slope in order to ditch any tail that might've been on him.
Was he being paranoid? Absolutely. Did he care? Not at all. The way he saw it, paranoia was going to save his life.
"Then I guess we have to make sure that I'm not caught. I won't tell anyone if you don't."
As he silently agreed, he realized that she either believed in his innocence that much, or she really liked him that much. It had to be both, or else she could be crazy. She didn't seem crazy.
They finished off their drinks, paid, and then left the pub together. As he adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, she adjusted her purse, pulling it tighter around the front of her body.
"I live two blocks over," she told him as they headed down the snow covered sidewalk.
He didn't object or complain as he silently followed. There was a YMCA down the street, and that was where he had planned on staying before he remembered Melanie giving him her number after finding out where Eames lived.
They weathered the cold and snow for two blocks until they came upon a four-story apartment building. Melanie used a key to open the lobby door and then headed toward the staircase as she begun ridding herself of her gloves and wool cap.
"I'm on the second floor." On the second floor, she went to the first door on the left and unlocked it, telling him, "Don't mind the mess, or Oscar. He's harmless."
Wondering about who Oscar was, he shut the door behind him and locked it as he looked around the living room. In the corner, lying on a small dog bed, was a pug. He lifted his head up, blinked at him, and then laid it back down.
Smiling, he followed her into the kitchen as he said, "Not much of a guard dog."
Melanie chuckled as she said, "No, he's not. He's too mellow if you ask me, but he does like to cuddle. Drink?"
"Uh, coffee?"
"Two coffees, coming right up," she said as she prepared the coffee machine.
He took the opportunity to look around her place. It was a small, one bedroom, with lots of plants, colors, pictures, and books. She had about as many books lining her bookshelves as him.
"Those are my father's," she called out to him as he picked up a pair of old reading glasses. "He forgot them the last time he was here."
"And you haven't returned them?" he asked as he placed them back where they had been on the bookshelf. When she didn't answer, he looked over at her and saw the tears in her eyes.
She gave him a tensed smile as she turned and opened a cabinet to pull down two coffee cups. "I had been sick that day and he came by in the morning, on his way to work. He wanted to make sure that I had plenty to drink and eat. He made me soup and tea, gave me a kiss, and then left for work. A couple of hours later, I'm watching TV and...and there it was. The twin towers on fire...He called me right before the south tower fell."
He stilled as he closed his eyes and rubbed at his head. Memories of that day flashed in his head and he said, "He worked at the World Trade Center."
"Yeah," she told him in a soft, weak voice. "We only had enough time to tell each other that we loved one another, but that was all that mattered."
"I'm sorry," he told her as he walked back into the kitchen. "I didn't remember it before, but now...I see it, in my head, and-...I'm sorry."
She gave him a brave smile as she handed him a cup full of black coffee. "It's okay. I'm glad I told you," she said as she placed her hand on his arm.
The tears hadn't completely went away, but she was doing a good job of pushing them away, of keeping them most of them from falling. A few tears had slipped down her cheeks.
He stared down into her eyes, feeling a lot of things swirling around in his gut that he probably shouldn't have been feeling. There was a lot of empathy, but also something else that shouldn't have been there.
He shouldn't be enjoying that touch on his arm, or the way she looked at him, or the thought of reaching up to wipe her tears away, or of leaning down ever so slightly to ease her sorrow with a kiss. That was dangerous territory, especially since he had just left Eames not too long ago after giving into her. That had been unexpected, the same with whatever it was that was between him and Melanie.
He should have excused himself, thanked her for the coffee and the offer to help, and then left. That was what he should have done. Instead, he gave into impulse and reached up to cup her face. Running his thumb over her cheek, wiping a fresh tear away, he told her, "It's okay." He didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but it seemed to help.
She reached up to take his hand in hers as she smiled slightly. "I know, thanks, Robert."
He didn't know what she was thanking him for, maybe just for him being there and sympathizing. Whatever it was, she seemed okay now.
He slowly withdrew his hand but she kept a hold of it. The feel was driving him crazy, stirring his emotions and his desire nearly to the breaking point. If he continued this, there would be a point of no return. He would give into her, the same as he'd given into Eames earlier that night.
He briefly wondered if he was always like this. If it had always been so easy for him to fall over himself in the company of a woman or if all this was new. If this wasn't new, then maybe Eames had the right to move out and leave him because he suddenly found himself not caring that he'd been with Eames only hours before. And that wasn't right.
Who are you, he questioned himself as he backed away. They finally let go of each other to move to the table where they sipped at the coffee and tried to make sense of what was happening.
He shed his jacket, hoodie, and backpack as the heat in the apartment started to get to him. Wearing nothing but his black t-shirt, he felt like taking it off as well as he wiped a line of sweat off his forehead. "It's really hot in here."
Melanie held out her hand and said, "Let me see your address book."
He picked up his backpack from where he'd dropped it by the chair. Opening the large compartment, he pulled out the black address book and handed it to her.
As she opened it and flipped through the pages, she gasped, "Wow, you know everyone."
He smirked as he rubbed at his jaw and chin scratching at the itching of the beard growth. "Yeah, it's completely full."
"I don't know where to start," she said as she pulled out her cell phone.
"Hang on," he said as he reached for it. Flipping through the pages, he said, "This guy uh, Lewis, I found out that he's a friend of-of uh, of mine. Start with him."
She dialed the number and waited. "I got the answering machine at a car shop. He's a mechanic."
"Call the other number, that might be his cell or home phone," he told her.
"Anything you want me to try and find out from him for you?" she asked as she hung up and dialed the other number.
After giving it some thought, he said, "I need to know if I can trust him. If I can, then I'll talk to him myself."
He sipped on the coffee as he listened to the one-sided conversation. He couldn't help but feeling amused as he smirked when she told Lewis that she was a cop.
"So, you're not going to help-...Sir, I understand that he's your friend." She looked up at him and smiled, mouthing "He's defending you", before returning to the phone. "If you see him or hear from him, will you give me a call? Sir, don't talk to me like that!" she exclaimed.
He started laughing as he motioned for the phone.
She handed it to him before she started laughing herself, informing him of what Lewis had said, "He told me to go fuck myself."
Putting the phone up to his ear, he caught the tail end of the rest that he told Melanie to go do. "Uh, Lewis?" he spoke into the phone, cutting the other guy off.
There was a moment of silence before he guy said, "Bobby?"
"Yeah, hey, uh...I'm sorry for that, but that was a uh, a friend that I had call you. I just...I had to know if you would talk to the cops."
"You are the cops, man. And you know that I would never betray you. You're like my brother, Bobby. What's going on anyway? This is crazy shit they're saying about you."
"It's a long story, look, I don't have time to explain but...Has there been anyone asking about me, any real cops?"
"They stopped by yesterday. A woman detective and that Captain of yours. I guess they were seeing if I'd seen or heard from you. Of course I hadn't, but I told them if I did they would never know. You need anything? A car?"
"How about a lawyer. Do I have one?"
Lewis was silent a moment before saying, "You know plenty, I'm sure you have your pick."
"But is there anyone that I have already?"
Lewis got quiet again before he asked, "Are you okay? You should know the answer to these questions."
Sighing he closed his eyes as he said, "I need a name, Lewis. I can't...I don't remember their names."
It took a minute, but finally Lewis gave him one. "The only guy I remember you talking about is named Carver. He's an ADA. That's all I know."
"Thanks, man. I might not talk to you again for a while, okay. Just know that I'm okay, and whatever happens...happens."
"Take care of yourself, Bobby. If you need anything, call me. Even if it's to post bail."
He smiled into the phone and said his thanks and then hung up. "Carver."
Melanie flipped to the 'C' section and skimmed through. "Here. Ron Carver."
She read him the number and he put it into his cell phone but didn't hit 'send'. He was too nervous.
"What's wrong?"
Breathing out, he rubbed at his head as he said, "What if he tells me that he can't help me? That there's nothing he can do...What if he tells me that I'm guilty?"
"What if he tells you that you're innocent and that he'll do whatever he can to prove it?"
He stared over at her and felt himself smile. Yeah, he could tell him that too. He got up and refilled the cup with more coffee. Sitting back down, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes as he asked, "You mind?"
"Only if you don't mind me snatching it up to take a puff off it."
He glanced over at her as he lit it, took a long drag off it, before handing it over. blowing out the smoke, he said, "Just, don't bogart it."
"Never," she said as she took the cigarette out of his hand and took a drag. She let it out while closing her eyes, saying, "I haven't had a smoke in three years. God, that's better than sex."
He chuckled as he said, "Then you're not having the right kind of sex if that's better."
She started laughing as she handed it back to him. "I think you're right. So, are you remembering anything?"
"No, not a whole lot. I only had one memory return and stay, the other...it, uh...slipped away. I don't know if it'll return or not, or if this is all I'll ever get, just bits and pieces without the whole picture. Or, you know, sometimes I think, what if the memories return but not the emotions attached to them. I could remember everything but that doesn't mean that I'll feel the same way once they do. It's not just memories that are lost but the feelings that had grown out of them. I don't know if I'm the same man I was before or if I ever will be, and that's what confuses me and scares me the most."
"You don't know if you'll love the same people you once loved before? Or if you'll even want the same life you had before?"
Peering over at her, he felt himself smile. "Exactly. You get it."
"It's not hard to get."
"Eames didn't get it," he softly mumbled, mostly to himself but he knew that she heard.
"Who's Eames?"
"My uh, I guess she's my girlfriend. Her names Alex Eames...I've been calling her by her last name and don't know why."
She frowned at him as she reached over and took the cigarette out of his hand. "You're not sure if she's your girlfriend?" she asked as she took a puff off it before handing it back.
"Well, I know we were," he said before he took another long drag off the smoke. "She lives with me, but, she also just rented out a new place far away from where we live now. She's moving out and-"
"And you don't know if you two broke up or not."
Giving a nod, he took another drag off the smoke before handing to over to her before she could snatch it out from between his fingers. "She says we're still together. I want to believe her. Then I think, what if we did break up and she's taking advantage of my condition."
"I couldn't imagine," she said, "not knowing anything about my life and the people in it. If I'm with someone or not and who I can trust and who I can't. Must be frustrating."
"You have no idea," he told her as he took a drink of the coffee, finishing it off. Sitting the cup down, he picked up the cell phone as he told her, "I think I'm ready now." He stood as he said, "I would rather do this in private."
"I'll leave," she told him as she stood. "I need to shower anyway, and get ready for bed. It's late." As she went to walk by him, she stopped and leaned into him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
He watched as she disappeared around the corner; the pug slowly getting up to follow. Sitting back down, he stared at the floor, listening to Melanie down the hall as he debated about once again to leave. He could get up right now and walk out like he did with Eames.
Shaking his head, decided to stay. He was getting too tired to run again. All he wanted to do was make the phone call and then go to bed.
Flipping the cell open, he pressed 'send' and waited for an answer.
After he made the call, he felt better. ADA Ron Carver wasn't just a nice guy, and a friend, but he was already prepared to defend him. All he had to do was turn himself in. It would be best to get his amnesia documented before more time passed.
He agreed; plus, he was running out of options. He needed to start dealing with this before the entire NYPD came after him.
"How'd it go?"
He looked up from the table as he stuck a newly lit cigarette in his mouth. Melanie was stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. He tried not to stare, but it was nearly impossible. He was a man after all, and she was a very attractive woman...who wasn't wearing anything but a towel wrapped around her body. Her hair was up in another towel and she suddenly bent over to take it off her head. His eyes traveled over her bent body, down to her long legs and bare feet, before returning to her face.
She was giving him an amused look as she rubbed the towel over her hair before tossing it on a chair. "Well?"
He blinked back as he asked, "Well what?"
"How'd the phone call go?" she asked again, this time highly amused.
"Oh, uh, good. He's already defending me, actually. He's just been waiting for me to come in to make it official." He gave her the once over one more time before getting up to rinse his cup out. "I'll sleep on the couch, if-"
"Robert," she said the moment he felt her move up behind him.
Her hand was on his forearm and he had to swallow the gasp that had wanted to escape his lips. A tremor ran up his arm as she caressed over his arm, making him turn around to face her.
She was mere inches from him; so close he could smell her intoxicating scent. She took the cigarette out of his mouth, placed it on the counter, and then that hand was back on his face. She trailed it over his jaw, causing a shiver to run down his back.
"Don't," he said as he reached up to grab her hand. "Don't make me do this."
"I'm not making you do anything," she softly told him as she leaned into him, pressing into his chest with hers.
It was getting harder to breathe, to think, as he lost focus for a moment. She was driving him crazy, but...but..."I can't...I-"
"You're with Eames."
"Yes, at least...I think," he weakly said as she peered up into his eyes with that look. The one filled with so much want, need, and desire. He hadn't moved away; he should have moved away.
She didn't have to push up on her toes to kiss him, just tilt her head up slightly and her lips were on his. And he still didn't back away. he didn't gasp in surprise at the sudden move. He stood there, in her kitchen, and let her do it.
Eventually he backed away, but not before he let out a groan of pleasure, before he kissed her back, before he let his tongue slip into her mouth, tasting her. Then, raising his hands up, he cupped her face and pulled back.
Taking a breath, he shook his head, eyes closed, as he beat his warring emotions down and said again, "I can't."
Melanie was silent for a moment before she asked, "Because of her?"
"Because of Alex...yes. I'm sorry," he apologized without knowing why.
"Don't be, now you know."
He opened his eyes as he stared down into hers. "I-I uh...What? Now I know?"
"That maybe you do still love her, even though you can't remember it." She smiled a little as she stepped back. "She's a lucky woman. The couch pulls out, I'll get you a pillow and sheet. It's too hot in here for a blanket."
He could only nod as she turned and walked out, leaving him alone to think. Was that a test? Did she just test him...? Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let out a groan.
Women. Shaking his head, he grabbed a glass out of a cabinet and filled it with water. He downed two glasses before picking the cigarette back up and heading into the living room.
He moved the coffee table and pulled the couch out. Oscar made it back into the living room and with seeing the bed pulled out, he jumped up on it.
Looking at the little dog, he smirked as he took his shoes off and laid down.
"Looks like Oscar found a new friend," Melanie said as she walked back into the room, this time dressed, and carrying a pillow and two sheets.
"Guess so," he said as the dog rolled over against him. He reached down and petted the dog as she threw the pillow at him. He caught it while laughing and stuck it behind his head. "Thanks for letting me stay."
"Anytime," she said as she leaned down and yanked the smoke out of his mouth and then proceeded to walk away with it. "Goodnight!"
He had to admit that if he didn't know anything about Alex Eames, he would have easily given himself to that woman.
It took him awhile to finally sleep, but once he did, it was clouded with dark shadows and figures, voices that sounded foreign yet familiar as he searched through the dark for the face behind the voices. No matter how hard he searched, how loud he screamed, he couldn't find them.
They were lost, the same as him, in the dark abyss.
One Police Plaza
He approached the public entrance as a woman pushed the door open. Reaching out, he held it for her before slipping inside and right into the lobby.
There wasn't much commotion, only a few civilians complaining at the circular desk in the middle of the open floor. So far, he'd been undetected but knew it wouldn't last long. It was the reason he was there; to be known.
Stepping up into the line, he looked around and noticed a blackboard against the wall to his right. He stepped over to it and read the names of the departments and which floor they were located on. The one he was looking for was on the eleventh.
"Sir, you need a visitor's badge if you want to-" the woman at the desk stopped talking as he turned around.
Their eyes met and he saw the shock and then worry in her crackling blue eyes. The older woman looked over at a police officer leaning on the counter. The cop looked from the woman to him and straightened, hand moving to his gun.
At seeing all of this silent exchange, he slowly took a step toward the desk. The officer took that move as a threat as he drew his gun down on him.
"Stop right there," the cop yelled with his gun pointed at him.
He stopped and instantly raised his hands up to his shoulders.
"Down, now! Down, all the way!"
He obeyed the order as he did as he was told, getting down on his knees.
"All the way down! Now!"
Laying flat on the floor, he felt another officer who'd been behind him grab his right wrist and jerk it around to his back. The cuff bit into the skin of his right wrist as his other hand was twisted back to join it. The cop who'd been giving him the orders was standing above him, gun still trained on his head, as the other cop frisked him. He even knocked his Yankees cap off his head to make sure nothing was hidden in it. With not finding any weapons on him, they radioed it in, spoke a few words to a couple of other officers, and then pulled him to his feet.
He didn't say anything as they half carried, half pushed him toward an elevator.
Neither one of the cops spoke to him as they rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor. As the doors opened, he took in the walls, the glass case, the people and recognized none of it. It was all foreign to him.
He was led into an open squad room and he looked around for Alex and didn't see her anywhere. However, everyone was looking at him. Every detective, uniform, and civilian was staring at him as he was led down the middle of the room and then down a hall and into a small interrogation room.
They weren't wasting anytime, he thought as they sat him in a chair and then undid the cuffs. He figured since they all knew who he was there was no reason to process him into the computer. All of his prints and personal information and DNA had to be in the system anyway, so there was no point.
He watched as the officers left and shut the door. Glancing around the room and then looking into the two-way mirror, he stared at his reflection as he wondered if there was anyone standing on the other side, watching him.
Rubbing at his wrist where the cuff had pinched his skin, he leaned on the table and waited.
Alex had returned to the squad room with a bag containing her sub sandwich in her hands when she heard the whispers. Deakins was in his office on the phone, Carver was heading down the hall toward the interrogation rooms along with DA McCoy, and Barek was talking to the department's registered psychiatrist, Dr. Elizabeth Olivet.
"What's going on?" she asked Logan as she pulled off her coat and hung it on the hanger.
Logan had dropped his bag on his desk before talking to one of the other detectives. He walked back over to her with a startled look on his face.
"Logan?" she asked, getting frustrated that no one was talking to her.
He shook his head slightly as he told her, "It's Goren. He's here."
Alex stared at him as her own shock shook her body. "What? What'd you mean he's here?"
"He's here, in interrogation. I guess he turned himself in," Logan told her as he walked over to Barek and Olivet.
She looked toward the hallway as she started for it. Before she could get too far, a voice called out after her, stopping her in her pursuit. It was Deakins. Alex turned to face him as he stopped in front of her.
Motioning for her to follow him, he said, "In my office. Now, detective."
Taking one last look down the hall, at the closed interrogation room door, she sighed and did as ordered and followed Deakins to his office. She was met by Logan, Barek, and Dr. Olivet. Alex knew the psychiatrist, having seen her a few times after her abduction four months ago. They shook hands, giving each other polite smiles, before turning to face Captain Deakins.
Addressing everyone in the office, Deakins said, "I've invited Dr. Olivet to observe the interview-"
"If it's only an interview than why is he in an interrogation room?" she sternly asked.
Deakins looked to her and explained, "My orders. It'll be easier that way. Now, as I was saying, Olivet will observe then once the interview is over, she'll do a psych test to determine his mental state and to document, and verify, his amnesia. Any questions?"
Alex looked around and saw no objections; she also voiced none as she turned to leave the office.
"Alex," Deakins said, stopping her. "A word in private." He waited for everyone to file out of the office before leaning on his desk, arms crossed over his chest. "You can't be in there."
Alex stiffened as she asked, "How about to observe?"
Shaking his head, he told her, "You can't. IA needs to speak with you."
Alex felt a sudden tremor in her gut as she asked, "About what?"
Deakins glanced out into the squad room, telling her, "An anonymous tip came in, and it's one that can't be easily ignored." Looking back at her, he said, "Just tell me that you weren't harboring a fugitive."
Alex could barely move as stared at Deakins. "Captain...?"
"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Eames. The caller was too specific; so much so that I'm going to have the tech guys run a check on the phone number of the tipster." He took a breath before asking, "Were you, or were you not, with Goren last night? Have you been helping him evade arrest?"
When she went to speak, and nothing came out, Deakins cursed under his breath as he worked hard not to lose his temper.
"We knew that you were speaking privately with him yesterday morning. That was permitted by the Brass in trying to get him to trust us, to lure him out, that was excusable. However, what isn't excusable is one of my detectives letting a known fugitive stay at her house."
Finally, she said, "What was I to do? This is Bobby-"
"And you're a cop!" Deakins yelled as his temper got the best of him. "I don't care who he is, he's wanted. There's a warrant out for his arrest, and you hid him! That's obstruction, harboring, and-"
"I get it, Captain," she said in hast, cutting him off.
"No, I don't think you do." Deakins pushed off his desk and went over to the blinds.
Alex looked out and caught sight of everyone, including Logan and Barek watching right before the blinds shut.
When he turned back to face her, Deakins glare made her swallow hard with fear of what was to come. She'd never seen his anger focused on her before, it was scary.
"Eames, you're a Detective Sergeant. You're senior to every First Grade detective in the entire NYPD. You're to set the example, to raise the bar, and you're usually the one to do just that. Until now. You exercised extremely poor judgement, detective. One that could cost you everything. For christ's sake, Alex, can he really say jump and you say how high? Will you honestly follow him blindly anywhere, even to the end of your career?"
She couldn't speak; no words could be formed that wasn't a plea of some sort, and her only defense would be the nails into her own coffin. She didn't know what she was thinking, other than she had to help Bobby. The repercussions were the last thing on her mind.
Deakins sighed, his tirade over as he suddenly looked exhausted; exhausted and utterly disappointed. "IA will be here in an hour to look into this tip. I expect for you to get your story straight before they arrive. As of now, I'm putting you on a leave of absence, citing personal reasons."
"Captain, I don't-"
"It's either that or a suspension, a permeate black mark in your jacket, and maybe a hearing to see if you're still qualified to hold your rank, or to even wear the badge. Your call."
Alex swallowed the tight lump in her throat as she gave a nod in understanding. "I'll take the leave. For how long?"
Deakins shook his head as he said, "Until this all gets settled. I can't trust you on this case anymore. I can't trust you to not put Goren above your responsibilities as a police officer. Once you tell IA that you have no idea what the tip was about, I expect the paperwork for your leave on my desk before the end of the day." He reached behind him and opened the door.
Alex took in a deep breath as she fought tears back while leaving the office. She'd never felt so embarrassed, ashamed, and miserable in her life. Not since she disappointed her father by accidentally wrecking his car, after taking it without permission, when she was sixteen.
"Logan, Barek," Deakins said as he motioned for them to entire his office.
Alex watched as they walked toward the office, giving her looks of encouragement, Logan, and sympathy, Barek, as they went.
Looking down the hall, toward the interrogation room, she saw Carver talking to McCoy before opening the door to the room and going inside. The door shut, leaving McCoy steaming in the hallway.
"Detective Eames?"
Alex turned and saw a woman walking up to her. The woman didn't have to introduce herself, she already knew she was with IA. "Yes, that's me."
"Can we talk?"
At spotting an empty conference room, she lead the woman to it. The sooner she got this over with the better. She had no idea what she was going to do now, but one thing was for certain: she could now help Bobby without the limitations of her badge and her job.
TBC...