A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating. I'm trying to fit my writing in somewhere between work and having a life, and right now it's been virtually impossible. My updates are going to be slow in coming, but just know that I haven't forgotten about any of my stories and I'm trying to do the best I can. Thank you all for the reviews and the support!
Also, I don't mean to depress anyone, but this chapter isn't the happiest. Life happens to the best of us, and I refuse to not write about the unexpected circumstances in these detectives lives. However, do know that things may look bleak now, but they will get better. How this will all end hasn't been determined yet, I'm working on it because I can go either way and I'm having a serious fight within myself over what I want to happen.
Okay, enough of my rambling, and enjoy.
Bobby's Apartment
He used his key to enter through the front door; as soon as he stepped in he felt the heat and heard the chirping of the bird from the living room. Dropping the backpack on the couch, he removed his coat and draped it over the back of it as he walked through the rooms. Since he was now free, he had no reason to stay away from his own home.
Yet, as he looked around, it didn't feel like his home. It all felt disconnected: his body and mind from his life. They were all there but held no connection. There was nothing that told him how he should act, what to do, or where to go or when. Did he have bills to pay, people to call or his mother to visit? A doctor he had to keep in touch with?
Going into the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and spotted several take-out boxes, plastic containers, bottle of water and beer, milk juice, and a bunch of condiments. He grabbed one of the imported German beer bottles and twisted the cap off as he shut the door with his foot. Taking small sips off the bottle, he ventured around the kitchen as he inspected the cabinets and items scattered over the counters. Nothing had changed much since he'd last been there; on a bulletin board hanging on the wall by the cabinets he spotted his bills. He studied them for a moment, realizing that they were all paid, before walking away.
The flashing light from the message machine caught his attention as he passed. Reaching over, he hit the 'play' button as he saw he had ten messages. The first two were from a reporter who wanted a comment for the New York Ledger, the third was from his mother—she sounded agitated yet worried-, the fourth was from his mother's doctor—his mother had become greatly distressed and needed to be sedated-, he was to call back. The rest were all reporters wanting a comment.
He erased all the messages except the one from the doctor before stepping into the living room.
Sometime later, while he was skimming DVD titles, there was a knock at the front door. Getting up off the floor, he went to answer it. Peering through the blinds over the window he spotted Detective Logan standing on the stoop. Out on the street there was a tow truck with a very nice looking classic Ford Mustang.
Logan greeted him as he opened the door, saying, "I was hoping you'd be home."
"Detective," he said as he pushed open the glass door. He spotted a thick envelope in Logan's hands and wondered if that was the items that belonged to him. Instead of asking about it, he gestured to the car and asked, "Is that my car?"
"Yep, and I made sure it was put back together properly, but, they did have to take samples from it. There was a small portion of blood on the passenger seat. They had to cut out a small piece of the leather."
Looking toward the car, he gave a nod as he understood. "There's no spot out front for it…I noticed, uh, in the back, there's a place to park it."
"I'll tell the driver," Logan told him as he handed him a set of keys.
He took the keys and then shut the door before heading around to the back. He watched as the car was lowered from the tow truck and placed in an empty spot. Detective Logan thanked the driver and paid before he could object.
"Don't worry about it. The department's flipping the bill," Logan said as the truck drove away. Holding up the envelope, he asked, "Mind if I come in?"
"Yeah, sure," he told him as he lead the way inside. He tossed the keys on the table as he passed it while Logan shut the door. "Want a drink?" he asked as he opened the refrigerator and took out a new bottle. The one he had before was sitting empty on the coffee table.
"I normally would but I'm on duty."
He pulled out a bottle of water and offered it to him instead. Logan took it with a grateful smile as he said, "I can only imagine how hard this is for you."
"Well, you can imagine all you want but until you actually experience it, you have no idea," he told him as he moved around the kitchen and settled for leaning back against the counter.
Logan seemed to get that as he didn't say anything else about it. "I've got your wallet and cell phone. They're no longer needed as evidence. The suit jacket is at the cleaners," he told him as he pulled out a dry cleaning receipt and put it on the table along with the envelope. He reached in his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "You need to sign for them."
He took the offered form and pen from Logan and filled out the necessary information before handing it back to the detective.
As Logan took it from him, he said, "Hey, look Bobby-"
"Don't call me that, all right," he said suddenly, cutting Logan off as he stared over at him. "I don't know you, and for all you know, you don't know me. From what you told me, we were partners, and maybe even friends, but right now I'm not any of those things. I appreciate you bringing this stuff to me, but if you came here to tell me once again how you've got my back and how everything will be okay, you can save it, all right. If you can't give me answers, if you can't help me by telling me what in the hell I'm supposed to do now, then there's the door."
Logan stood staring right back at him, looking more than a little put off, as he asked, "What'd you think you need to be doing?"
He gave a shrug because he didn't really know.
"Look, I know you're confused and have a lot of questions, my advice to you would be to call Eames and to take this one day at a time."
"One day…at a time," he slowly said as he stared over at the cop standing in his kitchen; he no longer felt the need for the cop to be there. "You can leave now, detective."
Logan looked slightly disappointed, but he nodded as he said, "Yeah, okay. And it's Mike."
He stared at him, waiting for him to either continue or to leave.
"You can call me Mike," Logan clarified as he slowly stepped toward the door.
"Would that make you feel better?" he asked, almost sounding condescending, as he started to walk over to the cop.
Logan turned toward him, tensing slightly as he saw him approach. With a hard look on his face, told him, "I'm only trying to be a friend, Bobby."
"And you can call me Robert," he told Logan as he reached around him to open the door for him. "That would make me feel better. Watch your step, there's ice."
"Yeah, thanks," Logan said without a hint of gratitude in his voice. He gave him one last look, eyeing him like a suspect, before leaving.
He watched as Logan walked down the steps, through the sludge of wet snow, until he disappeared around the building. Shutting the door, he locked it and returned to the living room where he grabbed the backpack off the couch and headed to the study. He shut that door and tossed the bag on the floor.
Looking around, he went over to the closest, the only place in that room he hadn't looked in before, and opened the door. There was nothing hanging on the long rod; instead, there were boxes stacked from the floor up to the rod, and then some more boxes lining the top shelf. Most were regular packing boxes, some were for filing. Two file boxes were on top, so he took those down.
Sitting on the floor, he opened one and saw a case file stacked into it. Taking it out, he caught the name on the tab along with the case number. He had to do a double take because the name startled him; it was his own. He flipped the file open and immediately saw a stack of photos that had been haphazardly thrown back into it. Picking those up, he started shifting through them and what he saw should have upset him, angered him, or make him sick…but, they didn't.
As he thumbed through the photos, and then the entire case file of the crime that had been committed against him two years ago, he did it numbly, like a stoic. All he felt toward what he saw, what he'd been through, was apathy.
After a while of sitting on the floor, and hurting his back, he threw the case file into the box and put it back into the closest. He grabbed the second box off the floor and carried it into the living room with him. That box also had a case file in it, which also had his name on the tab.
Dropping the box on the coffee table, he went to the kitchen, made himself a sandwich and grabbed another bottle. He sat on the couch and flipped open the box as he took a bite. This file wasn't nearly as thick as the other, but it still held a lot. He had to put his sandwich down in order to lift the file out with two hands. Taking a glance at the clock, he saw it was almost five. Picking up the remotes, there were three, and quickly figured out which one went to the TV, to the cable box, and to the DVD player.
He found the local news channel and leaned back on the couch, bringing the file with him and setting it on his lap. As he flipped through the file, and looked at the crime scene photos, including the same picture he saw earlier that day in the interrogation room, he listened faintly to the opening news reports. It was the third story of the evening, and he sat the file down and grabbed the remote to increase the volume.
A male news reporter was standing outside of One Police Plaza as he informed the viewers, "…this afternoon, Detective Robert Goren turned himself in to the police here at One Police Plaza. Shortly thereafter, Police Chief Yarrow, along with DA Jack McCoy, gave this following press conference."
The live report was cut in by a pre-recorded video of the press conference where the Chief and the DA announced his immediate release as a suspect and person of interest. Jack McCoy even gave a formal apology, but he knew it was all for show. If there was anything that came up to put him back under the microscope of suspicion, McCoy wouldn't hesitate to try and prosecute him again. He picked up the beer bottle and took a sip as the video clip ended and the reporter came back on the screen.
"That's all we know as of now. Detective Goren has yet to comment on these events-"
He turned the television off as he sat back and rubbed at his eyes, his head. As long as it was made public that he was cleared, that was all that mattered to him; all he wanted to see. The phone in the kitchen shrilled the moment the news report was over; he stayed on the couch and listened to the four rings before his voice cut off the ringing, informing the caller to leave a message.
It was another reporter, this time with a FOX news channel. They wanted his statement, like all the others. Letting out a deep breath, he got up off the couch, went into the kitchen, and yanked the phone cord out of the jack in the wall.
Home of John and Emily Eames
Forest Hills, Queens
Alex stared at her father as she tried to process what the man had just told her. After she left One Police Plaza after speaking with IA, she decided to visit her parents. Her mother had a doctors' appointment the other day and she wanted to check in on her. Her mom was now "resting", and her dad was preparing them both a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with soup when he told her what the doctor had said.
Her mom was having complications that included not only high blood pressure but her heart. The complications weren't cause for concern yet, but could be if the prescribed medication failed to work. With her mother's medical history the doctors were extremely worried that these issues could result in another stroke. Given her mom's age, another stroke could be fatal.
Her dad placed a plate in front of her along with a bowl as he sat across from her. She watched as his hands shook as he raised the spoon to his lips as he begun to eat. Looking down at her food, she was no longer hungry. Rubbing at her forehead, trying to ease the sudden pounding, she shook her head as she pushed the plate away.
"Alex?"
"Dad, you just told me that my mother was having serious medical complications that could end her life…and you expect me to eat right now?"
Her dad stared over at her with a grim look and frown as he nodded in understanding. "I've barely eaten myself since hearing the news, your mother's been…" he trailed off as he looked down at his own food. "She's been "resting" a lot, and sustaining off of toast and coffee."
"The caffeine's not helping with the blood pressure."
"You don't think I know that," he snapped before he could catch himself. "Sorry." He pushed his own plate away and Alex reached over and pushed it back.
She realized that in order for him to eat his food, she had to eat hers. "I'll eat mine if you eat yours," she told him.
He stared over at her as he let out a sigh. Giving a nod, he pulled his plate back as she reached for hers. She picked up half her sandwich and took a small bite as he did the same. It didn't take long for the desire to eat overwhelmed the both of them and they had cleared their plates and emptied their bowls in a matter of minutes.
As they stood and the sink together, cleaning the dishes, Alex looked over at her dad as she asked, "Have you told anyone else?"
He shook his head as he took the soapy bowl from her and rinsed it under the water. "I've been trying to figure out how to do it."
"We can invite everyone over for dinner, telling them all at once."
Her dad looked over at her and said sternly, "For God's sake, you're making it sound like we're telling them that she's going to die. It's just complications. She's on medication."
Alex heard the desperate tone in her father's voice right before he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen to finish the dishes on her own. She understood his anger because it was exactly what she felt. She was angry, hurt, and it felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. However, she wasn't trying to live in denial. She was trying to accept this for what it was and keep a level head about it all. With being a cop, she was trained to not give into fear, to look at the facts and make clear headed decisions.
From what her father had told her, she knew that they had to prepare for the worse. Her mom was old, she had suffered a stroke before, her heart was weakening with every passing day, and pretty soon she knew that they all had to face the facts. The facts were that her mom could suffer another stroke any day now. Whether it was in her heart or in her brain didn't matter, because they would both be bad. Either one could end her mother's life. Facing that fact now would hopefully make things easier. They could all prepare themselves in the hopes of making it easier.
She sighed as she closed her eyes and felt the tears start to fall. There would be nothing easy about this. That was just a fool's hope. Nothing could have prepared her for her father's words, and nothing would ever prepare her for the day she would lose her parents. Even if they knew, even if they had months or years to prepare and come to terms with it, it still wouldn't ease the pain she felt in her heart.
However, she did believe it would be better than it being unexpected, something sudden with no warning at all. She'd been through that with Joe. One day he was there, they were happy and had no worries in the world, and then the next he was gone. Yes, he had slipped into a coma, but there was still hope all the way up until he took his final breath. She refused to be blindsided like that again. It would be hard and painful, but she would make sure her mother just knew how much she loved her, get all the hugs and kisses she possible could, and do all she could to support her father.
This was going to destroy her father. She silently made a promise to herself to take good care of him; he was going to need it.
Once she was able to get a hold of herself, she finished the dishes and picked up her cell phone. She called every member of her family, both her brothers and sisters, and told them that they were having a family dinner tonight. Her brother John Jr. was thankfully off work tonight so he would be able to make it, the only one of them that wouldn't be able to make it was Liz. She urged her sister to call in and get someone to cover for her, that it was a family emergency. That put her sister on high alert but she promised to do her best to take the night off. With the unexpected family dilemma that she and her husband Terry were going though, Liz had already taken a night off last night.
The last person she wanted to see that night was Terry, but she accepted the fact that Terry would come over, bringing Nathan with him.
After all the notifications were made, she realized even though she had invited them all to dinner that the last thing anyone of them would want to do after receiving the news was to have a family feast.
She briefly thought of calling Bobby but decided against it. He had no memory of her family and she wasn't sure if he would come over or not. Alex also found herself not wanting him there anyway. Since last night, she felt a shift within her in regards to Bobby. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but something was missing.
Mike had texted her earlier, telling her that Bobby was cleared of the charges against him, and she was thankful. She was still determined to help him in any way possible to take down the person responsible because still valued him enough as a friend. However, that was just it. She was trying to sort out her emotions, and how she felt about him, and she was coming up short on her own feelings toward him.
She wasn't sure if it was because of what happened last night, or if this was something that had been building for a while. A month ago her feelings for Bobby were slipping. She wasn't sure if she could be with him anymore and she had found herself even ready to break it off with him. Then the ADA's murder had happened, and the Caleb Cunningham case. They had started working on their failing relationship, but it hadn't been completely resolved. It was still damaged and she was wondering now if that damage was complete.
She wondered now if she could continue on with her relationship with Bobby. She started to have a sinking feeling that she could no longer love him the same way as before. That her love for him had changed, and that was why she didn't feel the need to call him or to have him there.
He wouldn't come anyway, she told herself. He had no responsibilities there; not to her or to her family. Leaving the kitchen, she told her dad that he had called everyone before going up the steps to her parent's bedroom.
She wanted to spend as much time as she could with her mom.
TBC…