Law and Order: Criminal Intent

High Maintenance

Chapter 6

Blatant Invasion

Goren knew cornering Eames in the conference room would incite some backlash. He expected her to get angry, expected her to push back, though he would admit it happened earlier in the conversation than anticipated. He expected a few choice words to drop from her lips, and in the moments it took to literally drag her from the squad room to his vehicle, he was not disappointed.

"Give me my fucking keys."

"Get your ass in the damned car before I throw you in the fucking trunk."

He could use those words, too.

He opened the door, pushed her inside despite her protests, and used the remote lock on his key ring to keep her inside. They fought over getting her seatbelt buckled and Goren took a few slaps in the process. Frustrating as she was becoming, Goren took a couple of deep breaths and let her fume. He knew what she needed and the parking garage of 1PP was not the place to get it.

As he slowed the SUV in front of Eames' apartment, he was not surprised when she hopped out before the vehicle had stopped completely. He skirted the front of the SUV and watched as Eames, halfway through the front yard, turned to him.

"Give me my keys." The front light of the apartment highlighted the small wet trails that trickled from her eyes.

"No," replied quietly, shaking his head. He walked slowly to her. "I'm going in with you."

"I don't want you in my apartment! Give me my keys!" Eames took a step towards Goren, hand held expectantly in front of her. Goren grabbed her elbow and pulled her close.

"No. I am going in with you." Goren kept his grip on Eames, walking her to the stairs. He positioned her between the door and his body. "No elbows," he whispered against her ear. "Do not go in and slam the door in my face, either."

"I should," she snapped.

"You won't," he warned. Reaching around her with both arms, Goren held the door knob in one hand, keys in the other. Once the lock clicked he stuffed the keys into his pants pocket and placed his hand on her back. He opened the door and pushed her, rather roughly, through the opening.

Goren shed his coat, hanging it on a hook near the door, and mentally prepared for what needed to happen next. Eames was beyond the point of normal over-exhaustion, beyond the point where arguing to purge her body of extra adrenaline would be beneficial. She was wound too tightly. From the way she was poised in the middle of her living room, Goren knew pushing her was going to make one hell of a snap.

"Aren't you going to take off your coat and relax?" he asked taking a step towards her.

"Get out, Bobby." Goren moved a step to the side, grabbing a magazine from the coffee table.

"Why don't you read a little while you relax," he said, tossing the magazine in her direction. She caught it awkwardly between her arms and her body then deftly pitched it behind her.

"I don't want to read." Eames changed her stance, squaring herself with Goren. He slowly closed the distance between them and undid the belt and buttons on her coat, baiting her with a blatant invasion of her personal space.

"You should take this off." Eames stood still, fists clenched, as Goren slid the coat over her shoulders and down her arms. He let the coat fall to the floor as his fingers closed around her wrists. "Where did you get the bruise on your shoulder, Eames?"

"Bobby, get out," she whispered through gritted teeth. Eames took a step backwards trying to replace the distance, but Goren followed. He raised her hands, bringing them between their bodies.

"Show me your wrists." His words were for courtesy only, as his fingers were already pulling her sleeves out of her iron grip. Eames again took a step backwards, hitting the wall. "This isn't all," he said stepping forward, watching her eyes. "There are more, aren't there? More bruises…" He dropped a hand to her hip. "You know, if you won't show me…" Goren's hand moved up Eames' side, fingers skating under the hem of her shirt. "I have no problem finding them for myself." His fingers skimmed the soft skin on her side.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, pushing him backwards. Eames raised her right hand, taking a swing.

"You wanna fight now?" he asked, leaning back to avoid her fist. "Come on, Eames," he laughed.

"Shut up! Just get out! Get the hell out!" She lunged towards him again.

"Really?" Goren caught her next punch, pushing her arm away. "You know you won't win." He continued to deflect her attacks.

"I don't want to win," Eames said in a gasp for breath. "I want you to leave me the fuck alone!"

"Such language, Eames," Goren scolded. "I hope you don't talk like that around your nephew." Eames stopped her assault. Turning to the side, she wiped the back of her hand across her wet eyes. Goren looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. Eames took advantage of the gap in his attention and pounced again, landing a surprised Goren on the couch. Quick to recover, he pulled her down and across his lap, and as he laid her back he pinned one of her arms between his back and the cushions.

"Damn it, Bobby!" Goren's arm, under her neck, reached out, hand grabbing her other arm.

"Why don't you stop fighting?" He wrapped an arm around her knees to keep her from kicking. "I told you…You won't win." He held her tightly as she struggled to free herself. Ten minutes of wrestling Goren and demanding an immediate release, Eames' drive started to waver. She sighed heavily and adjusted herself to meet Goren's eyes.

"Let me go."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?" Eames hesitated briefly before answering.

"Fine."

"All right." Goren released her legs, slipping them over his knees to hang over the edge of the couch. He helped her to a sitting position, keeping his arm around her shoulders as she steadied herself.

"I've been having these dreams," she started slowly, "since last…last Friday. I don't remember them; I just remember waking up the next morning…scared." Eames kept her focus on her hands, wringing them as she gave her explanation. "And every morning, I've found a new bruise. There's, uh, one above my knee and one above my elbow. There's one on my side."

"Show me." Goren's voice was soft, but Eames knew his statement was not a request. She lifted the hem of her shirt revealing the greenish bruise that sat below her rib cage. "That's an older one?" Eames nodded.

"It was the first one I noticed."

"Then your shoulder and your cheek…And your wrists."

"Yeah." Eames pulled the sleeves up to her elbow. "These showed up this morning." Goren gently took her hands turning her arms to examine the purple marks. "I remember something being tied tightly around my wrists, and I remember someone slapping me…but that is the only part of the dream I can put my finger on."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked rubbing his thumbs softly across the backs of her hands.

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, Bobby, my sub-conscious is beating me up while I'm sleeping.'"

"Well…Maybe. Yes, that's exactly what you should have said." Eames shook her head with a small moan of disbelief. "Eames, it's not uncommon for people to have dreams of being chased or attacked, especially people in our line of work."

"I know."

"And it's widely believed that if dreams seem real enough…"

"Yeah, yeah. If you die in your dream you die in real life. Don't you think that's a little bit of a stretch?"

"No. Look at your bruises. The one on your cheek…You said in the dream this…this person slapped you. And your wrists were bound with something tight." Eames stayed quiet, looking down at her hands, still wrapped tenderly in Goren's. "Our last case was…hard. You haven't had any time off in almost a year. Your brain is trying to tell you that you need a break."

"I'm not taking time off in the middle of a case," Eames said quietly.

"I know. Connie will be in town tomorrow. After we talk to him… You need to talk to Ross about taking a few days. Eames?"

"Okay."

"Is that an 'I'm-just-saying-okay-so-you'll-leave-me-alone' or an actual agreement?" Goren asked with a hint of a smile.

"I will talk to Ross tomorrow."

"Why don't I make you some tea or some warm milk? Maybe that will help you sleep a little better tonight." Eames had her doubts, but she nodded a thank you, too tired to argue anymore. Goren stood, releasing her hands and wandered into the kitchen.

Eames twisted, stretching her legs across the length of the couch. Her head tilted back, leaning into the soft support of the couch's arm. She fought as her eyelids closed defiantly.

he jumped at her before she could react

he landed heavily on her shoulder as they hit the floor

she reached up

scratching his face

slamming her fists against his head and chest

anything she could do to get his body off of hers

bitch!

she felt the sharp sting of his hand across her face

he lifted her hands above her head

wrapping something painfully tight around her wrists

she tried to make out her dimly lit surroundings

but the fog in her head wouldn't allow her to see clearly

she was lost

two voices

she heard two voices

one very familiar

arguing

no!

don't!

the familiar voice pleaded

the other came into view

she watched in slow horror

as he pointed his gun at her head