The story continues...

The Dark

Bobby Goren dragged himself up remembered steps. The heat outside was stifling, and he knew that his apartment would resemble a sauna room more than the peaceful and welcoming retreat he'd made it. As he climbed the stair, he wondered why it was so dark. Another bout of high summer roaming black outs? One of his neighbors stood in the doorway of his apartment and told Bobby that it was a ten-block blackout. The entire northwestern grid, which included the very spot they were standing. It was still early, only a little after 7:00 in the evening, and the only relief from the heat would be an open window next to his bed.

Nice. Sleep!

Fumbling for his keys, he finally slid the right one in on the third try. His vision had doubled for a moment; lack of sleep could be hazardous sometimes. He wasn't exactly sure why he has lost so much sleep lately, Eames and he had a very light case load at the moment. Jamison had been out of town all week visiting family, so there'd been no late nights. Now, with the weekend looming ahead he had a couple days off, which he'd planned on using to reclaim some of what had been lost. Maybe. The heat wouldn't help, nor would the blackout. Adapt Bobby, adapt.

When he pushed open the door he was disappointed to discover he'd been right about the sauna-like temperature in the closed up apartment. Stripping off his rumpled jacket, he tossed it over a chair he knew to be fifteen paces from the door, and four paces from where he stood. He wandered over to the windows that had little light coming in through the blinds. A step to the left, there's the table. Pulling open the blinds, he strained to see the distant lights of downtown.

Normally, the darkness didn't bother him, but combined with the heat, Bobby felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were closing in.

"If you two don't listen to me, I'm going to lock you up in the basement and throw away the key."

He moved in the direction of the kitchen. The kitchen is twenty paces from the door, and the counter is twelve paces from here. The barstool was pulled out ten inches from the counter.

For most people, blackouts meant stumbling around in the dark looking for candles and flashlights. For Bobby, it was an exercise in memory. Instead of straining to see in the dark, he closed his eyes and concentrated on maneuvering around obstacles and furniture. The cupboard holding glasses is two doors left of the sink. Opening the cabinet, he took out the first glass his hand touched. The water wasn't cold, but it was cool enough to soothe his parched throat.

There was a knock at the door; Bobby nearly jumped out of his skin. The increasing darkness pressed in on him, making him more uncomfortable. Quietly, he placed the glass on the counter. He sincerely hoped it wasn't Mrs. Mankin from next door. She would talk his ear off when all he wanted was sleep. At the same time, he'd welcome the right company. As he shuffled to the door, he heard someone whisper sotto voce; "It's not Mrs. Mankin."

Jamison. She was definitely the right company.

Smiling, he opened the door. The faintest outline of a smile could be seen in the near-dark. "Thought you were visiting your sister," he said, feeling intense relief she was standing outside his apartment and not at her sister's.

"I was and it was great. I have enough cute and adorable niece and nephew stories to bore you out of your mind for a month. But, I thought two days devoted to you, would be kind of great too. So I packed up the car early and came home. Little did I realize that not only would I be walking into a tropical hot zone, but a dead zone too. But before I did, I stopped and …" She rattled the contents of a plastic grocery bag, "can I offer you a cold beverage?"

He grabbed her by the arm, pulled her into the apartment, and slammed the door shut, "Not so loud, do you want to start a riot?"

Laughing, she leaned into him and asked, "So does this mean you're glad to see me?"

"Glad you see you?" he asked incredulously. "You are a Godsend!"

He had both hands on her shoulders and as he leaned down for a kiss, his hands slowly caressed the length of her arms and eased the bag of cold drinks from her. As soon as he'd taken possession of the bag, he pulled back and cried out, "Mine, all mine."

"I hope you mean me… and not the cold drinks I brought." A ghost of a smirk playing about her lips

"Of… of course, I meant you, Jamison." Though it was now too dark for her to fully make out his features, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Uh huh. Sure you did." She grinned as she nodded. But she reached out and found his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. "I … I don't like this kind of dark. Don't you have a flashlight, or those candles I gave you? Or even better, both."

"I do have both. Hang on just a sec, though. I'm going to direct you to the sofa and then I'll get the candles and flashlight." He rattled off the number of paces from the door. "The bathroom is thirty paces to the left." He pulled out two of the still cold bottles of water, and opened one to take several large gulps to help cool him from the inside out. "Oh so much better." He opened the other bottle and handed it to her.

"Don't tell me you've memorized the layout of your apartment so completely that you can rattle off the number of paces between any two objects?" She really wanted to be able to see his face. Chances are, the expression would have been a cross between amused by and apprehensive at getting caught being so compulsive.

"Not really. I just remember where I left everything this morning."

"Uh huh... Goren you are a mystery. But not that much of one, I can tell when you're evading. You're not the only insightful detective in Major Case." She reached out with her hand in his direction. There was still enough light left outside to show her his silhouette, but she couldn't make out his features or his expressions. "Sit down. Even though I can't see you, you're making me nervous." The couch shifted slightly under his weight.

"You want to know what else I brought with me? I stopped by your favorite deli on the way over and Mr. Brodsky sent me home with a pastrami sandwich and fruit salad for you. Apparently, Sophia saw you walk by yesterday and she didn't think you looked healthy. So, she takes it out on me and orders me to make sure you eat it all. Liev tells me the same thing. So to keep me out of anymore trouble, please... please eat all of it. I'm in fear for my life. I think I heard Sophia mutter something about it it being easier to take care of me 'in the old days with the KGB'… "

Bobby laughed, "Neither Liev nor Sophia were KGB. Soviet immigrants yes, KGB operatives, no. And not Russian Mafia either."

"You think. I'm not so sure. Here…just eat. The life you save may not be your own." She handed him half of the sandwich and watched the shadowy image of him eating. Good.

They sat there for over an hour, the darkness now complete. They lingered over the sandwich and salad. She told him stories of her niece and nephew, of her and her sister. Bobby had lit several candles, and they watched them burn playing games that didn't require a board. She regaled him with all the new 'knock knock' jokes her nephew had told her. They played twenty questions, they guessed song titles from lyrics, anything to keep from acknowledging the dark. That was the one thing neither ever talked about. The dark, the suffocating darkness they'd been able to put behind them, respectively. For the most part.

The lamp next to them suddenly blinked, its light blinding them. The blackout was over. Looking at each other, Bobby smiled. He reached over and turned off the light. Sometimes it was easier in the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight.

Mrs. Mankin had been beside her open window trying to catch a bit of cool breeze since her air conditioning had shut off because of the blackout.. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop on her neighbor – he was always so nice to her – but everyone had the windows open and sounds traveled, there really had been no way to avoid it. She hadn't been able to make out their words, but she couldn't mistake the tone of their conversation or the sound of their laughter. She was reminded of her and her Matthias. She eased herself up from her chair and traced the outline of the last picture she had of him. Oh they should be so happy as we were, my Matty...

More to come