|Void of Writing
Author: Miss Mila PM
I threw the pen down, smacking it onto the desk. “Fine. You want to talk; let’s talk!” A post purgatory Goren/Eames fic, just because. Please read and review!Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Friendship - A. Eames & R. Goren - Words: 1,239 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 2 - Published: 08-10-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5291257
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Law and Order: Criminal Intent characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: A post purgatory fic, just because. Oh, and Deakins is Captain, not Ross. Not that I have a problem with Ross, but I think Deakins would've handled it better. For the sake of argument, say that Goren got his assignment from some unnamed person of power in the department.
Blank, empty, bare, void of writing. The paper has been this way for over an hour. I've memorized every spot of ink on it, every pre-printed letter. They always stayed the same, throughout that hour. Never once did they change, or leave the paper. I liked that. They waited, waited for my crude writing to fill the succeeding lines. This paper fascinated me, which is funny, since I've been filling out the exact same papers for every single cased I've worked over the years.
I frowned at his voice, never lifting my eyes off the paper. My pen was still positioned over the line asking for the Detective on the case. I ignored him. Detective Alexandra Eames. I wrote slowly on the line, scowling at my handwriting.
"Eames." It wasn't a question this time.
Case Supervisor. Captain James Deakins.
"We need to talk."
Department. Maj-or Ca-se Squ-ad. I wrote, putting pressure on the letters and gritting my teeth. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? He'd done enough of that over the last month, what were a few more days? Ever since he came back from his undercover mission he thought that everything could just go back to normal. Well, I wouldn't let that happen. Not that easily.
"What?!?" I snapped, looking up at him, murder in my eyes.
He looked wary. "We need to talk." He repeated, dragging a few of the syllables out.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "No. I'm not finished with the paperwork."
"Oh please, you-you've been filling out that one sheet for the last hour and a half!" He said, a bit of anger touching his voice. He sounded as if I was a suspect and he was trying to get me to talk. I resented that.
I put down the pen, smacking it onto the desk. "Fine. You wanted to talk; let's talk!"
People were starting to stare, and I saw Deakins give us a look. One that said how glad he was we were finally talking and how if we made a scene we wouldn't hear the end of it. I, personally, didn't mind the staring. Everyone knew what happened. Why shouldn't they know what was happening now?
"Not here." He said, shaking his head. "Conference Room 5 is open."
I threw my hands up in the air, "Fine, fine."
He closed the door behind us, and I turned sharply to face him. "What is it? What do you want to talk about now, Detective?" My tone was harsh, but I didn't care anymore; I was too upset to care.
He didn't seem taken aback by my tone, though. Instead he just scratched his beard and turned around halfway, finally looking back at me. "Okay. Okay. I acted like an idiot, Alex. I should've told you about the assignment, but after all the crap that I've put you through this past year, I didn't want you to have the weight of this on your shoulders. It was a dangerous mission, and I didn't want you to be involved."
This man, this intelligent and amazingly frustrating man had somehow wormed his way into my life, and made me care. He made my heart stop every time I heard a gunshot next to him, every time I saw a gun pointed at him. You know how many seconds of my life that added up to? And then, THEN he got himself into an amazingly stupid situation. And my gun was drawn. MY gun was pointed at him. And he was here, trying to make it better, trying to rationalize his actions, trying to make me understand them. And I almost did.
I turned away from him and walked to the window of the conference room, looking down at the busy streets below. I promised myself I wasn't going to cry, not again.
"I wouldn't've cared." I managed in a whisper. "I wouldn't've minded."
He waited for me to continue.
"We're - Dammit, Bobby, we're partners!" I turned around to face him. "We're -we're supposed to go through this together…I…I was so scared when I didn't hear from you. I thought you were dead -" I don't know when I started crying during all this, but there I was. Looking weak, and vulnerable, with tears streaming down my face.
And then there he was, wrapping his arms around me. He was a good foot taller than I was, so I barely reached his shoulder. But his arms were so comforting, and warm. He smelled so good and inviting. I slumped into his chest and starting crying and he held my trembling figure, whispering words of comfort my ear.
I realized then that he was the only man since Joe I'd cried around. He was the only one who didn't judge me by my tears, the only one who I felt safe with. This wasn't the first time I'd cried around him. No, when we looked into Joe's case, and when I got kidnapped, he was there then, as well.
He held me as my tears stopped, and I didn't want him to let me go. I didn't want him to leave again. Because then I'd fall apart again.
He seemed to realize this. I sunk down to the floor, and he came with me, pulling me into his side. "You'll tell me if you're leaving again, right?" I asked, voice hoarse from crying.
He nodded. "I don't plan on leaving, though."
We sat there for a while, just staring at the wall in front of us, thinking. I was still leaning against his side, concentrating on breathing with him.
We were interrupted by a knock on the door, and it opening. "If I'm not mistaken, you two still have paperwork to finish." Deakins called into the room, not bothering to step inside.
I laughed and stood, pulling Bobby up with me. "Come on."
"So, we're good?"
I shrugged. "We'll see how it plays out, Goren."
"Fair enough, Eames, fair enough."
The paper was different now. Rough, inked words stood alongside the bold, printed ones, and they looked…right… next to each other. They stood together creating complete sentences and thoughts, supporting one another and completing each other. Neither was perfect, far from it, in fact, but they were there, together. Strong and steady, fulfilling their purpose. And neither one of them was going anywhere. They'd found where they belonged.
Author's Note: So, this is what I'm thinking. I like the beginning, and I certainly liked writing her arguing with Goren, but the end…eh, I'm still iffy about that. What did you think? Mind you, it's 1:15am as I write this…Please review!