CHAPTER 32
"I've wasted too much of my life here," Alex muttered as she parked the car.
"It's not a cheery place, is it? Even on the most beautiful day," Bobby said. "And this is definitely not the most beautiful day."
"Hold on," Alex said. "Let me get the umbrella…"
Bobby waited for Alex to walk to the passenger door. It was a grey, cold, rainy day, so dark that at ten in the morning it looked like eight in the evening. The wind drove the rain into sharp, cold needles. Alex had urged Bobby to cancel this appointment, arguing that he wasn't in physical shape to deal with such nasty weather. He gently responded that Alex would think he wasn't in shape to deal with any kind of weather. He insisted that he had to make the interview, and that he'd resort to public transportation if he had to. The thought of Bobby waiting in the rain for a bus or pushing his way through a subway car to make it to Ryker's appalled Alex nearly as much as the thought of Bobby facing Declan Gage on his own.
"If you think I'm going to let you go alone to face that monster," Alex said fiercely. "I've got some pride, you know."
"Well, then, you better come with me," Bobby said calmly. "Because I'm going today."
"Does it have to be today?" Alex asked.
"Yes…For two reasons," Bobby answered. "One is that I want to get this over with. Two…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Gage is dying. His doctor speaks of days…If I don't go now…By the time another visit is approved…Gage will be dead."
The drive to Ryker's was very quiet. The weather forced Alex to concentrate on the road and traffic, and Bobby was lost in his thoughts.
"I didn't know he was that ill," Alex said when the rain and traffic eased.
"It…It happened fast…He…He's been going downhill, but lately…"
"He looked awful when I saw him," Alex said. "Although his mind…Frankly…I couldn't tell if he couldn't or wouldn't understand."
"He…He saw it…He saw how much…I cared for you."
"I'm not sure how much he saw anything beyond himself," Alex said. "When I saw him he was too obsessed with Sebastian."
"Don't worry," Bobby said. "Sebastian…Linley…Whatever his name…He has no more power over me than Gage has over you."
They were both silent as they moved through security. Alex made the process as easy as possible for Bobby. She was ready to play every and any card she had—her family and its connections; Bobby's Medal of Honor; the connection with the Sebastian cases: and the Buddy Boy network she usually despised so much—to help Bobby. She was pleasantly surprised to discover George Huang and Gage's lawyer and doctor were waiting for her and Bobby and had eased their entry.
"A nice welcoming committee," Bobby commented. "How is he?"
"Not well," the doctor replied. He was a young Asian man, and Alex wondered if he had taken this less than glamorous post to work off his student loans. "The truth is…He's dying…I have to tell you, Detective. He probably won't recognize you. He may not recognize anything. He may not be conscious."
"He…He's that bad?" Bobby asked.
"I'm not sure how much is his illness," the doctor said. "And how much is that he's given up."
"Dr. Gage's condition has nothing to do with you, Detective," Huang said gently as they approached the infirmary section where the critically ill prisoners were housed. "You were terribly injured and ill," Huang continued in the face of Bobby's silence. "No one could expect you to do more than you already have."
"What's Gage's legal status?" Alex asked the lawyer. In truth, she cared nothing about Gage's situation, but the question would take them away from the subject of his health.
"He's never going to see the inside of a courtroom," the lawyer said. He seemed happy to make some contribution to the proceedings. "It's not a real question now."
They'd finally reached the intensive care section, and the guard began to unlock the door. "Gage is in one of the more private areas," he said.
"Let me check on him first," the doctor said, and followed the guard.
"He's a good doctor," Bobby said thoughtfully. "Better than the usual prison medical personnel."
"Fong is a good man," Huang said. "He's interested in forensic psychiatry as a specialty, and he gets credit on his loans by working here."
Doctor Fong emerged from the ward. "He's not in good shape…I don't know if he's aware of anything around him."
"Bobby," Alex said.
"It's all right. It sounds like this may be a very short visit." Bobby moved toward the door, but turned back. "I'll be ok, Eames."
The door clanged shut behind Bobby with a heavy echo. He closely followed the guard into what passed for Ryker's critical car unit. The guard and Bobby walked past several cubicles where men moaned in pain or lay dazed with drugs. The guard handed Bobby a pair of latex gloves, which Bobby slipped on. In one of the beds, a skeleton moaned and cried. The guard stopped.
"It's ok, Alejandro," he said, not unkindly. "I'll be back in a few moments…"
The words calmed the man, and Bobby and the guard continued down the rows.
"Alejandro has dementia from AIDS," the guard said matter of factly. "I'm not sure where he is most of the time."
"He shouldn't…" Bobby mumbled.
"Be here? Probably not. Most of the guys here should be some place else. But there's no where for them to go. And most of them…Even sick…You don't want them on the streets. "
"Yea…What about Gage?" Bobby asked.
"Well…He wasn't the most popular guy…Very arrogant…But the last couple of weeks," the guard said. "The doctors have their schedule, but from my experience, he's going to be gone sooner rather than later."
They arrived at the last cubicle. It was a little larger than most of the others and had a window—a window covered by steel mesh, but a window nonetheless. Bobby tried to brace himself for Gage's appearance. He'd scarcely recognized the man when he'd visited him nearly half a year ago before his kidnapping, and he'd feared what the ensuing months had done to his former mentor. The guard pushed back the screen in front of the cubicle's entrance. Bobby took a deep breath and stepped forward. For a moment he didn't recognize the skeletal figure on the bed as Declan Gage; for part of that moment, he didn't recognize the figure as human. Tubes ran in and out of the thing, many of them connected to machines that bleeped and twitted and blinked. The figure stared blankly at the ceiling, and, in spite of everything Gage had done to him, taken from him, and nearly taken from him, Bobby was filled with pity.
"Is he in pain?" Bobby heard himself ask.
"I don't think so," the guard replied. "He's on a morphine drip."
Bobby watched the bony chest rise and fall.
"Here," the guard said, and pulled a metal chair to the side of the bed. "You can sit here. I'll be just down the hall if you need me. You're Bobby Goren, right?"
Bobby, his eyes focused on Gage, nodded.
"He talked a lot about you…You must mean a lot to him…" The guard checked the machines and monitors.
Bobby tried not to shiver. "Did…Did he ever mention his daughter?"
"Not when I was around…Where is she?"
"She…She died a few months ago…"
"Too bad…I'll leave you…"
Bobby sat carefully on the chair. He'd seen people die before. There was the reckless member of his Army boot camp squad who'd shot himself in the femoral artery while handling his rifle in the exact way their drill sergeant had told them not to. There was the bomb that destroyed the jeep and its occupants in front of him. There were incidents with the NYPD. And there was his mother. He'd sat with her through one of the longest and darkest nights of his life. After the stress and nightmares and hysteria of her last weeks, her last hours were remarkably quiet and peaceful. Once she revealed that Bobby's biological father might be a serial rapist and killer and raged at Bobby for forcing her to make the revelation, his mother fell back on her pillows and drifted away. He watched her chest rise and fall more slowly until it stopped. It happened so quietly that it was several seconds before Bobby realized she was dead.
Declan Gage's passing appeared to be on a more difficult course. Each breath was a struggle, and his claw like hands clutched at the sheets. Bobby wondered how the doctors and nurses managed to find a vein in the man's ravaged arms. Bobby leaned forward in the chair and brushed Gage's right hand. It felt like a leaf about to crumble into dust.
"Dec…" Bobby was compelled to touch Gage's hand even as it repelled him. "It…It's Bobby Goren…I…I don't know if you can hear me…Or understand me…"
The skeleton didn't respond.
"I…I came because…You…You did horrible things…You did them to me…But…I owe you…I owe you a lot…You…You showed me what I could be…How to use…What gifts I had…But…" Bobby's chest constricted, and it was several moments before he could speak again. "I…I can forgive just about everything…Nicole certainly…My brother…Framing me…Even…Screwing up the Sebastian case so he could come after and torture me…But what you did to Jo…And how that led to what happened to Alex…To Eames…I…I can't…I can't forgive you that…But I…I can't hate you…I've tried…I can't…I can hate what you did…But I can't hate you…"
The claw's nails dug into Bobby's hand. Bobby yelped in pain and surprise.
"Bobby," the skull rasped.
Bobby stared into eyes that pierced into him from another world. He tried to pull his hand away, but the claws clung to it.
"Bobby…You…You were the best…My son…I wish…You were my son…You avenged me…"
Bobby thought of Jo Gage, biting off her tongue to avoid her father and drowning in her blood and her father's manipulation and indifference.
"No…No…" Bobby struggled to free his hand. "I…I'm not your son…I won't let you claim me…The only person who can claim me is Alex…Alex saved me…I'm hers…"
"Bobby…No…You're free…" Gage's nails drew blood from Bobby's hand.
"No…You just gave me more things to carry…Only Alex lets me be free. She doesn't try to own me…I'm freer with her than I ever dreamed I could be…"
Bobby yanked his hand away from Gage's grasp. The older man's claw clutched at the air and then fell limply to his side.
"Bobby," Gage hissed. He took a long, desperate breath, and didn't move.
Bobby stood and called to the guard, who quickly appeared.
"I think he's gone," Bobby said softly.
The guard rushed into the cubicle. Bobby watched him check Gage's body and speak into his radio. Gage's doctor and lawyer appeared with a nurse within seconds.
"What happened?" the lawyer asked. There was no accusation in his voice.
"He knew I was here," Bobby said. "He…He said my name…Said I was free…And then…"
"It's not surprising," the doctor said. "He could've died at any time. We'll do an autopsy, but only because it's what we do in these case. And Dr. Gage wanted one. He thought his brain might be of particular interest."
Bobby fought against a laugh. Of course Declan Gage would think his brain was valuable.
"We can take care of things, Detective," the lawyer said kindly.
"Is there anyone…" Bobby began.
"No…But Dr. Gage was very specific about his wishes," the lawyer said. "He wished to be cremated and for there to be no memorial services."
Bobby stared at his mentor's ravaged body.
"There's nothing for you to do, Bobby," Alex said softly. Bobby wasn't aware that she and Huang had followed the others to the cubicle. "C'mon…Let's get out of here…"
Bobby looked from Gage's doctor to his lawyer.
"Detective Eames is right," the lawyer said. "There's nothing for you to do. It was very kind of you to come here at all."
"Yes," the doctor agreed. "This meant a great deal to Dr. Gage."
Alex carefully placed a hand on Bobby's arm. "C'mon," she said, and gently guided him away from the cubicle. She nodded at Huang, who stepped out of their way. She led him through the wing and out of the infirmary. Bobby was silent, only nodding to acknowledge the guards and officials they encountered. They were nearly back in Manhattan before Alex broke the silence.
"Bobby…I'm not going to ask if you're ok, because…"
"Because I'm so clearly not?"
"I…I'm not sure what "normal" is…I'm not sure anything's been anywhere near that since all this started," Alex said. "I'm calling Ross and letting him know not to expect us in today…I don't think he thought we'd come in anyway."
Bobby stared out the window. Alex's cell rang.
"Yes, Captain," she answered. She glanced at Bobby. "Thank you, Sir. I planned to do that…He's…Well…He's doing as well as you might expect. Yes, Sir…Thank you…"
"Ross checking up on me?" Bobby asked flatly.
"He knows about Gage," Alex said. "He…He's worried about you…Said for you to take as much time as you need."
He was quiet until they neared Alex's neighborhood. "Where…"
"I'm taking you to my place," Alex said. "You're not going to be alone right now. I'm going to try to get some food inside you, and you're going to try to get some rest."
He offered no protests. Alex wished he'd say anything. Even grief or anger would be better than his terrible quiet. He said nothing for the rest of the trip and wordlessly followed her into her house. He allowed her to take his rain splattered coat from him and stood uncertainly as she hung it up.
"You're cold," she said. "Go sit on the couch and wrap the blanket around you. I'll make us some coffee."
He nodded and shuffled away. Alex went to the kitchen and considered calling Huang. But Bobby had ignored the psychiatrist's overtures at Ryker's, and she thought there hadn't been any change in his attitude in the minutes since they'd left. Calling Huang now might place her on the side of his opponents in Bobby's eyes. She had to move carefully. She took a deep breath, picked up the cups of coffee, and walked into the living room. Bobby was slumped on one end of the couch.
"Coffee," she said. "Strong, with lots of sugar."
As he reached up for the coffee, she saw that his hand shook. It shook so badly that Alex wrapped her hand around his to steady it. His hand was terribly cold.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Good," Alex said as she sat on the other end of the couch. "You can speak."
Bobby smiled weakly and took a long drink of his coffee.
"So…What's going on?" Alex asked gently. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Bobby stared into his coffee. He took another drink and very deliberately and carefully placed the cop on the table next to the couch. Alex noticed that he held the cup with two hands. He sat back.
"I…I don't know…How…What…I feel," he said. His voice was very low, and Alex leaned forward to hear him. "I…I'm not sure…If I can feel anything at all…"
She moved tentatively towards him. "I…I don't know…I'm not an expert in psychology…And I'd never say that I can explain you…It's one of the things I love about you. But if ever a man deserved to feel shell shocked…God…Bobby…A lesser man wouldn't be here…And…You're good…You're helping people…You're a brave, good man."
Bobby shivered. "It's…It's …Alex…I…I can't feel…Anything…Except…I…I'm scared…So scared…Please…"
Alex quickly set her coffee down and reached for him. She wrapped her arms around him. He feebly struggled for a moment, but finally fell so that his head rested in her lap.
"It's ok, Bobby…I'm here…I'm here, and I'm glad I'm here. I'm glad I can help you. That I get to help you. I don't know how, but we'll make everything all right."
She reached for the blanket that covered the couch and carefully draped it over him. She held him and tenderly ran her fingers through his graying curls.
"Oh, God," she thought. "How's he going to face them? How am I going to help him?"
END CHAPTER 32
My depiction of the Ryker's hospital wing is purely my own. I know there's an infirmary, but that's about it.