“Fallout” by Scripted Starlet

Chapter 30: Loose End

A.N. Before I write another word, let me just say Happy Sweet 16, EnglishJumperChick13!

Well, another day, another obnoxiously long story completed.

I get the sense that since some people went quiet they didn’t like the way Nicole kinda-sorta exited. Oh, well. Maybe you’ll feel a little bit better after this. :) Oh—and I hope a certain someone realizes her shout-out. Not sure if she even reads this story since I haven’t seen her around in a while but I’ve always noticed that particular penname.

…

“Are you sure about this?”

Alex turned the key and let the engine die down. She checked the mirror for the third time in less than twenty minutes and my interest peaked. Her hair and clothes looked immaculate today, and I wondered whether she’d consciously dressed up for the occasion.

Apparently satisfied with her appearance, Eames looked my way and didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

“And you’re sure you want me to come up?”

I would have understood if she’d wanted to be alone. Sometimes people needed such privacy in order to grieve… to heal. Besides, there was a diner down the block where I could readily occupy myself with some coffee and case notes.

“I’m sure.” Her smile seemed stretched as she patted my thigh. “Dr. Pederas keeps saying I don’t have to face this alone.”

Thank God, I praised, even as I immediately chided myself for the impulse.

It wasn’t that I doubted she was strong enough to handle the situation on her own, but what was I in this relationship if I wasn’t Eames’ right arm? And what if it turned out that she had needed me? I couldn’t bear the thought of not being there for her the second time around.

I followed warily as Alex led the way, treading up the stairs so swiftly that a less knowing person would assume she was eager. I tried not to invade her space as she clicked open the lock, and rather hung behind a few feet when she flicked the light switch and walked in. The place smelled rather stale, which was unsurprising considering all that time it had been left abandoned.

Since I wasn’t in front of her I had no means of assessing Alex’s initial reaction. She just stood still for about a minute, taking in the scene before her.

“You cleaned,” she said finally.

“Yes.”

Thoroughly.

“When?”

This is going to be hard.

“One of those nights that I couldn’t sleep,” I said quietly, resisting the urge to gravitate towards her. “All the evidence had been taken and I… I really wanted to be close to you. But I knew I couldn’t stay here when it was still…” I trailed off as a faint tightness took hold of my chest.

It was strange to see her nod when she wasn’t facing me. “And the bedroom?”

“Clean,” I said quickly.

New sheets. New spread. Even a new mattress.

And that’s when Eames turned around. “Did you sleep there?”

The whites of her eyes were already pink. “Oh, Alex…”

“Did you?” she asked again, all muffled into the buttons of my shirt.

I kissed the top of her head and massaged her back with the heel of my palm. She especially liked the support now that she was in her seventh month.

“No.” I was uncertain of whether she’d prefer the truth, but I gave it to her just the same. “No, I just laid there. Looked at your things. It was more to clear my mind than anything else.”

Eames shuddered a sigh and I felt my shirt grow damper.

That did it. I’d had enough of this place hurting her.

“Alex, let’s get out of here. Lewis and I can come in tomorrow and have the entire place cleared out in two hours. You can choose afterwards, sweetheart. There’s no need for this.”

“No.”

“Eames, please don’t—”

“No.” She was firmer this time as she pried her face from my stomach, lifting her chin proudly. “No, Bobby. I’m okay.” I let go of her and my heart hurt as I saw her pluck some tissues from her sweater pocket and wipe her face bravely. “It’s just the hormones,” she muttered, and it was ambiguous as to whether she was talking to herself or to me. “Really, that’s all there is to it.”

“Alex, would you—” Jesus, Bobby, what are you trying to stall for? She’s obviously made up her mind. “Would you like a glass of water or something?”

“No.” She was beginning to sound like a broken record. “It’s just…” she held out her empty palm and flexed her fingers in helplessness, “how do we do this?”

Resigned to her wishes, I reached into the inside of my jacket and took out two packets of post-it notes. “Yellow is for keeps,” I explained, depositing them in her hand, “and blue is for dumps.”

She scrunched up her forehead. “Dumps?”

“Good will,” I amended.

“What if I make a mess of things?”

“Just try to keep it in different colored—err, I mean labeled piles,” I told her, thinking out loud. “We’re smart guys. We can figure it out.”

“You’ll call me if anything is up in the air, right?”

I smiled warmly and leaned down to peck her cheek. It had gotten more and more difficult since Alex and her pregnant ankles had taken a vacation from pumps. “Don’t worry, Eames. I would never throw away anything that’s of value to you.”

When she moved to hug me again she closed her eyes. I pondered the reason for this, worrying that she might be trying to phase the place out. “Alex?”

“Mmm?”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Few more seconds,” she murmured, in that soft sweet voice she typically reserved for late nights and early mornings. I held her longer since physical contact was the best way Eames and I knew to make one another feel safe.

“I’m going to be in the kitchen,” I said, after she had pulled back to a determined distance. “I brought my files. If you need me to reach something for you you can always holler.”

Alex’s eyes, which were previously set on the entertainment center, slid back to mine. “Where’s the carpet?”

I nearly blanched. How was I supposed to tell her it had been too blood-stained to be saved?

“Police auction,” I fibbed nimbly. “They had to take all sorts of fibers to forensics anyways. And it was so ratty afterward I just… I thought—”

“Thank you,” she interrupted, staring at me in earnest. “You knew I wouldn’t want to see it again.”

“Yes,” I relaxed. That, too.

She stroked my arm as if contemplating something very deep. “There are so many reasons why I love you, Bobby. Sometimes I lose count.”

I was about to return the sentiment when she pulled me sidelong, taking me to the kitchen and then pointing me towards a chair. I sat obediently and she bent to give me a long kiss that tasted like trust: confident and invariably soothing. “Stay in plain sight,” she ordered.

As expected, Alex began with the living room. It was tortuous for me to glance up between reports and see her staring intensely at a certain spot or corner. Every so often she’d make a squelched noise in the back of her throat and I’d struggle to remain seated, watching her walk back and forth with sadness in her eyes. Once she was done I was surprised to see that she wanted to ditch the sofas. And I was even more astonished to learn that she’d opted to keep the lamp that had shattered during the struggle. It was sort of heartening, though. I’d exuded a lot of effort gluing its pieces back together, as though fixing the vase would help temper my own mind.

“Okay, Wolfgang Puck,” she announced loudly, wiping her palms on her slacks and prancing into the kitchen. “I believe I’m in need of some consultation.”

Alex spent the next ten minutes holding up pots and pans and having me judge whether they’d be of any use. I ixnayed almost all of the sorry lot, but Eames decided on keeping her plates and dishes. There were plenty of clanks and huffs as she tore through the cabinets, not to mention many an instance where my height vantages were put to work. I watched as Alex slapped a yellow post-it on the refrigerator door and turned to smirk at me, just daring me to protest.

“You know, Eames,” I indulged her, “mine’s bigger.”

“That’s what all you men say.”

I laughed and set down my ballpoint. “So are you going to do the rest now?” I asked gently.

‘The rest’ meaning the bedroom.

“Yeah.” She looked down and bit her lip. “I’ll be done soon.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay.” She scooped up the remaining little booklets and flipped them around idly between her palms. “Shouldn’t take more than seven minutes.”

I tried not to look anxious or disappointed as I went back to my notes. “Okay,” I said lightly, hoping that I sounded convincingly distracted.

I got along well enough for a little while, but after checking my watch for the umpteenth time I began to feel as though my collar was too tight. Eames had been gone over twice as long as she’d approximated. What was going on over there?

“Alex…?” I called, already on my feet.

“Alex?” I tried again, moving across the apartment.

“Alex!”

“Here.”

“Eames, the least you could do is answer when I call you. You know that I—” I shut up the moment I realized she was crying again.

“Enough!” I said fiercely, sitting down beside her on the bed. “Forget what Dr. Pederas said. We’re going, Alex. We’re leaving right now.”

“I wanted it to be the same,” she told me, brokenly from behind her hand. “I thought enough time had passed that I’d be able to see it for what it was. I used to love this place. It was home to me.”

“It’s changed.” I pulled at her wrist and her palm slipped off her face with no resistance. “There are bad memories associated with it. And I know that’s a hard thing to accept, Eames, but… but we have a new home now, don’t we? New lives?”

Her eyes watered even more. “But I lived here for twelve years!”

“I know.” I set one hand on her forearm to steady her as the other wiped her cheek carefully.

“Phil and I lived here. It was our first apartment that wasn’t ridiculously cramped or infested with something awful, and I… I spent so much of my adult life here. I should feel something more when I walk into this place other than… than…”

“Maybe you’re right about timing being a factor, then,” I said hastily. “Only maybe it’s still too soon. And it’s not like we have do this now. This is your place, Alex. The deed is in your name. You could hang onto it for the future, or you could sell it tomorrow, or you could always rent it. Consider it a cash cow. Whatever you want.”

“But it shouldn’t be all bad memories, Bobby,” she said sadly, somewhat calmed as she rested her head on my shoulder. “A lot of good things happened here. You made love to me for the very first time on this bed.”

I smiled at the memory. “Are you asking for a repeat?”

“No!” she snorted, seemingly indignant. “At least… not now.”

I traced designs onto her slightly widened hip and waited for her to say something.

“Are you done, then?” I asked softly, eying the furniture and gaping closet that were, for the more part, smattered in yellow. Not the bed though. The still scuffed headboard had been branded with blue.

“Yes.”

“Would you like to go home?”

Alex sagged a little and I felt her small nose breathing and burrowing into my shoulder. “Let’s.”

…

Eames was quiet for the rest of the day.

I tried to keep out of her hair by making several calls towards the case I was collaborating on with my temporary partner. When I was out of work to do I went out for a beer with my brothers-in-law, expecting that by the time I returned she’d already be knocked out. I saw the light on in the bedroom window as Mark dropped me off, but it was typical of Alex to fall asleep reading with the lights still on. She always joked that the electricity bill had become much cheaper since she and I started living together.

Our new house was the provincial second story, single family home. Located in Morningside Heights, the sizable loan from Amy and Aidan had helped us secure the residence, but it wouldn’t have been that difficult for Alex and me to supplement our stead in another neighborhood. I’d been single man all my adult life before Eames, and my savings account very much reflected the fact. Alex had her late husband’s pension and money of her own to pool into the place, which was not in need of renovation so much as it was furniture.

I was quiet as I went up the staircase and opened the bedroom door just a crack, fearful that any noise would wrench Eames from her sleep.

“Bobby?”

Satisfied that she was awake anyhow, I pushed open the rest and saw her sitting up with a paperback on her belly.

“How are the guys?” she asked, setting John Grisham to the side as she beckoned me down for a kiss.

“Good.” I tried to keep it chaste as I was sure she didn’t want anything else. “Sean and Linny bought a boat.”

“A boat?! Why on earth would they do that?”

“I don’t know.” I went to the closet and hung up my coat. “To fish I guess.”

“But they don’t fish.”

“Yeah, well, Sean saw a movie the other night. Says he’s inspired.”

“What movie?”

I shrugged off my shirt and unbuckled my belt. “The Perfect Storm.”

Alex snorted. “See, this just goes to show why those two are made for each other. It’s like that gaudy heart of the ocean replica that Linny wears. That thing looks like a plastic anchor pulling down her entire throat.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I stepped out my pants before kneeling to rifle through my still packed suitcases, trying to remember which one of them had my under shirts inside of it.

“Bobby?”

Eames’ voice sounded smoky and I turned my head just in time to catch that certain gleam in her eye.

“Alex?”

“I’m ready for my repeat now.”

…

Half an hour later we were laying side by side, kissing softly as our heartbeats stabilized.

“So this wasn’t really as good as the first time…”

I lifted my eyelids for a glare of warning.

“But it was pretty damn close,” she finished, soothing the sting before it got smart.

I grinned in acceptance and pulled her lithe nudeness closer. It felt so good to go back to this after the ordeal we’d been through today.

“You knew what to expect, I take it?”

“I think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well, Robert Goren.”

“I guess I’ll be needing some…” I brushed the sweaty tendrils off her forehead and leaned in again, “…new moves.”

“Don’t you dare,” she groaned against my lips. “Your moves are perfect.”

As are yours, I seconded.

Even though our marriage was still very young, I was absolutely certain that I would never grow tired of sharing a bed with Alex. It always surprised me how incredible our lovemaking was. How fulfilling it felt to hear her call my name or look into my eyes with that tempestuous gaze of hers. That one that illustrated everything she was experiencing as a result of my attentions. That one that told me she knew exactly how strongly she affected me in return.

I loved her. God, I loved her so much.

“I love that you never just roll over afterwards,” Alex told me, digging her grabby fingers into the nape of my neck.

“Is that another one of those reasons you can’t count?”

“Why bother?” She shuffled to lie on her back and I realigned myself over her so that we could keep kissing. “The list keeps getting longer.”

Suddenly the glow that subsumed me seemed to burst out from beneath my skin and spread around the room. I felt a second wind coming on and I chuckled happily, moving my lips to her pert little breast.

“You’re too good to me, Eames.”

“That’s nice,” she whispered.

“So are you.”

“Bobby…” Her shoulders fell into the mattress as her body arched on instinct. “Bobby, I missed you.”

I paused, hoisting my head in confusion. “Missed me when?”

“Tonight.” She said it as though it should’ve been obvious. “The second you left I wanted to apologize for being so cold earlier.”

My brow furrowed cautiously. “You weren’t cold to me. I just took the liberty of assuming that you needed space.”

She looped her arms around my neck and gave me a look that nearly approached a pout. “But there’s only so much space I can tolerate lately what with you working long hours with that Scott woman.”

Not this again…

“Eames, for the last time, she’s fifty-six years old. She’s about to retire, for Christ’s sakes!”

“Yuh-huh, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I tried to shut her up by resuming our previous activities when she mumbled, “So Bishop was pretty cute—”

“Oh, she was not!” I guffawed, laughing right into her mouth as I remembered the tall, irritable redhead. “Alex, you must be feeling better if you’re going on like this.”

“I feel better because you’re home,” she admitted. “I feel better that we’re together.”

“You know what…” I turned onto my back but grabbed her hand along the way for safekeeping. “Me, too.”

We laid there in silence for a bit before I asked, “So you’re really feeling better, huh?”

“Much.” Alex smiled sleepily and her warm eyes danced in the lamplight. “Remind me why again.”

“Three little words,” I told her, knowing she was requesting the same ones I’d said to her this morning. “Prison. Infirmary. Dead.”

Prison for Greg Martel, who was to serve twenty-five years for second degree kidnapping. Initially his attorney had argued convincingly that the defendant was a single father who’d only wanted to provide for his children, but once Alex took the stand in maternity clothes she’d speedily redirected the courtroom’s sympathies. The jury needed less than an hour to deliberate, and the verdict had been both harsh and swift.

Infirmary for Foma ‘Tom’ Sphanov, who had made more enemies at Rikers than he had friends. Of course, dissenting narcissists tended to have a harder time fitting in with the any population, including inmates. The way the warden put it to me over the phone was that, while Tom would live, he’d be spending a few months recovering from the debilitating brawl he’d provoked.

Dead for Nicole Wallace. She’d waited a week before she finally called in and agreed to a plea. Alex and I were watching from the other side of interrogation as she stonily negotiated a sentence of life, not death; all the while acting shades more subdued than the woman we thought we knew. It was apparent that she regretted her decision, for prison with no exit seemed to suck the last of her spirit. Seventy-one days after consenting to a cell Nicole had strung herself up inside of it, ending her twisted life with a likewise bed sheet. The woman she bunked with said she wasn’t too surprised by the suicide considering that Wallace hardly ever spoke.

“She was practically catatonic,” Jennie Luca explained when I came in for the periphery interview. “A lot of us were creeped out by it so nobody really made the effort to get her to talk.”

Thinking back on that day, I felt the eerie memories have their way with me once again. I remembered the lack of expression on Wallace’s face as they’d pulled back the tarp in the morgue. The rimmed bruising on her neck and the silent gag of her purple mouth. And she had been so skinny lying there. So frightfully thin.

Why did she give up so suddenly? I wondered. What was it that Alex did that finally crushed her will to survive?

“I’ve been thinking about the apartment,” Eames said abruptly, tearing me away from the ghastly image. “I think I want to keep it.”

I searched my wife’s eyes and then nodded supportively. “Wise choice.”

“We could rent it out like you said. The extra income wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Right. I think that’s real smart, Eames.”

“It was your suggestion,” she teased.

“And your decision,” I reminded.

“Oh, Bobby, feel!”

She snatched my hand and placed it on the growth of her stomach where I could feel the slightest of movement. I was about to ask what the big deal was when suddenly there was a sharp ‘pow’ smack in the center of my palm.

“Wow,” I gasped, stilling my fingers in amazement.

“I know. She’s never kicked so hard before.”

“She?” I met Eames’ eyes questioningly but kept my hand right where it was.

“Or he,” she shrugged. “I had a dream last night about a little girl.”

A little girl, my mind mused. I started to rub Alex’s belly and was continuously surprised to feel that the fetal kicks seemed to be following my path.

Do you feel me in there?

“Do you have a preference, Bobby?”

“Preference for what?”

“Boy or girl?”

I shook my head. “No. I just want ten fingers and ten toes. What about you?”

“Same here,” she said. The kicking had stopped and Alex stretched her arms, relaxing onto the propped pillows behind her.

“What about names, then?” I asked.

“Names?”

“Sure. We haven’t discussed any yet.”

Eames frowned and gathered her thighs to her stomach, sitting up a few inches.

“Well, I’m of the opinion that you can’t really tell what name suits the baby until you see it.”

I didn’t know about that. Most babies looked the same to me. What more could you describe them as other than small, curious and pudgy?

“Have you thought of anything?” she prodded.

“Yeah, actually.” I grew serious as I followed her up the bed. “I was thinking that if it’s a girl we could name her Alex.”

Eames’ face softened and she curled towards me. “Really?”

“Yes.” We began kissing again and I sank my fingertips into her silky hair.

“And what if it’s a boy?”

I smirked. “Alex.”

She pushed me away and laughed loudly, clutching the sheets and swinging her legs with mirth. “So that’s the way you’re going to play it, Mr. Goren?”

“’Fraid so.”

“Well, I think if it’s a girl we should call her Roberta.”

“Roberta!” I pondered whether or not Alex would be cruel enough to inflict such a name on an innocent infant. “And just what are you giving birth to—a fully grown woman?”

“Oh, we could make it younger. We could call her Bobby, too. Or Bobbette.”

“No.” I was past pretense and putting my foot down. “No way, Eames. If that’s the case then why don’t we just name her Bambi McBimbo while we’re at it!”

Alex laughed some more before crawling on top of me and cutting our conversation short with another meaningful kiss.

“Again?!” I feigned complaint.

“One more time,” Eames swore. “And then I’ll let you rest, I promise.”

“You know you’re keeping the baby up, too.”

“Well, if it’s anything like its mother it should get used to living off half a tank of sleep.”

I kissed her deeply and then stroked her sides, staring up at her peaceful face. “I feel like taking tomorrow off.”

“Won’t your girlfriend be upset?”

“Quiet,” I told her, rolling my eyes. “I’m serious now. Lewis and I are going to spend half the day moving anyway. Why bother showing up at all?”

“But what about—”

“Candice can handle a couple of leads on her own. And I can always be brought up to speed on Tuesday. You said it yourself that I’ve been busy, Alex. Why don’t you let me take you to breakfast or something?”

She lifted a finger as though she was about to protest but then dropped it, looking rather sheepish as she did so.

“Well, well,” she tsked. “I never thought I’d live to see the day that my workaholic partner began to slack off.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eames?”

“I like secrets.” She had draped down and was peppering kisses across my chest.

“You’re the real reason I love my job.”

Alex slithered up then and caught my mouth. I encircled her in my arms and the night slipped away a few minutes more. Neither Eames nor I knew for certain what the future had in store for us, but if there was one thing we were sure of it was that we’d been through the worst of it. I was going to make a habit of being happy, and Alex was going to see to it that I stayed that way. And I would live everyday as though I was waiting on a new one. Another moment of happiness with my beautiful wife, our beautiful child, and a life that was worth living.

…

For Aubrey and Sarah.

…

A.N.

Well, there you have it. A sleepy ending to a not-so-sleepy story.

Like I said, there’ll be more fics in this universe and eventually you’ll get to meet little Bambi or Alex—whatever gender it may be. That’s not to say that I’m up for writing a family fic because usually it’s the before stuff that’s more interesting to me. Anyways, I can’t thank loyal readers/reviewers enough for their continued interest and support. This story was definitely a labor of love, but unlike “Intercession”, it wasn’t for Goren and Eames so much as the CI-shipper community in general.

Let the countdown to Season 7 commence!