At Home with the Gorens - Part III

Regaining her trust and respect had been yet another hurdle to overcome. At the time he had no choice - an undercover job is an undercover job and if his orders were to tell no one, so be it. Eames should have understood that more than anyone. That episode in their history was catalytic; it had shifted the dynamics of their amazing partnership to another dimension. Deep down he felt she had overreacted but he let it ride, taking it like a real man – that was Bobby Goren to a fault. Since that time she was the one setting the pace and tone and he had no problem with that either; he respected her for it. Now, however, she was trying to manipulate their new situation - emotional blackmail was not pretty, yet his fondness for her was proving to be a weakness, a blind-spot, especially since he took the flak for the circumstances they were in; he truly blamed himself.

They both had a right to be angry – initially. All those years of dedicated service - no hero’s departure in a salvo of bullets – no martyrdom to their cause – no parting medals of honour – no sweet words of praise for jobs well done. She vehemently believed they’d been stabbed in the back. They had never craved or needed thanks and rewards but their muted exit bore little parallel to their successful record in Major Case.

On his part the Detective was, at long last, resigned and relieved. He had been unhappy for some time; he had simply not cared to admit it to anyone or confront it himself. The mourning period was indeed over.

Eight phenomenal years together; of course she held a special place in his heart. He welcomed and enjoyed her sassy, snarky remarks - but not lately. She was still mad as hell. Leaving Major Case had never been part of her master-plan. Not surprisingly certain powers that be in the FBI were now making attractive overtures to her. He knew that ultimately it would be in her best interests to seriously consider their offer but first she’d have to cool down. It really was time for her to move on too. That was the difference; he’d bellow and rage and it was done – she’d harbour a grievance and brood till kingdom come.

Whilst she deliberated her long-term future, she had other pressing plans for the short-term, dragging an unwilling Goren with her. There were occasions - some might have said too few and others too many – that the Detective’s style had been rather unusual to say the least. Despite that he did technically manage to stay - just - on the right side of the law. She had come to accept and understand and even admire him for it.

Her present behaviour smacked of paranoia. She was being irrational, illogical, out of character and off the wall. Her current madcap schemes went beyond even his dubious boundaries. He’d never seen her like this before. She said she had nothing to lose. That wasn’t true!

~~~~~~~~~~

Eames smartly told the Detective’s wife she’d call her back and let her know.

“What’s the joke?” she snorted.

“The joke, Eames, is that my darling wife is up to something.”

“… and?”

“… and nothing. You know…” he sighed impatiently, “I will get out here unless I can make you change your mind and turn back. I don’t recommend you go it alone.”

“Bobby Goren you’re a wimp and a coward. I never thought I’d ever say that to you, but you are,” she glared stonily at him.

He looked her straight in the eye. “… and I’m unarmed! I never thought I’d say to you that what you’re about is mad, bad and dangerous… and plain stupid. For goodness sake, you were always the grounded one in this partnership. What happened to you?” His words came out slowly, softly, sensitively.

In crashing silence and screeching wheels she turned the car round. The weather outside was bright and warm; inside the vehicle the temperature gauge plunged to freezing point. She dropped him off across from his building caustically reminding him she’d see him later. He didn’t answer. Never had he run from her so fast. She felt one hundred per cent she was doing the right thing and she didn’t care how she went about it. Loudly to emptiness she cursed him. “Damn him! Damn that Bobby Goren daring to prick my conscience!”

~~~~~~~~~~

His wife was lowering the blind against the glaring afternoon sun when she saw him dashing across the road wearing a grim expression. She welcomed him with a shot of his finest Balvenie; he gratefully downed it in one. A second melted the knots in his shoulders and when he picked up the baby his whole body visibly relaxed. She smiled at him relieved to see it returned.

“Alex can’t babysit tonight,” he said, searching her face for a giveaway clue.

Shit, she thought to herself but merely replied, “That’s a shame.”

“If you like, we could all go out for an early-bird.”

“No thanks. I thought it’d make a pleasant change. You know, just the two of us, me in my LBD,” her eyes shining at the memory, “and you smart casual head to toe in black - sexy. Remember those days? You know a little romance, a little rock’n’roll.”

“Sorry Honey.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find someone else to babysit.” Her bright eyes challenged his. He didn’t flinch. He quietly said, “Actually I would rather not tonight, but I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Hmm… she thought; he said wouldn’t not couldn’t. “Bo-bby?”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t mind if I go out alone then? You can babysit. What are your rates?” she teased him.

Oh how he admired her tenacity – a dog with a bone! “One, you shouldn’t have to pay the daddy, but if you insist I charge in kind,” he grinned, “and two, yes I will mind,” the grin purposely gone!

“… but I need a change of scene from the apartment and the playground. I need to breathe in this town. I need to get dressed up. I need to feel like a woman again. I need…”

He loved to see her lower lip gently pout. He thought he knew where this was going. Next maybe a little foot stomping. Since the baby’s arrival she had been good, too good; he’d forgotten how much he missed this. Devilishly he added fuel to the fire. “No, I won’t let you and I know what you need,” trying to be firm.

“Well, I wasn’t actually asking your permission. I can do what I like.” Her right foot tapped in frustration.

How pleasing this was from earlier events. At home with his family; little Robert trying to crawl and discover fresh territory, delighted with every new touch and taste and him winding up his wife. The making up was always so special; a little hug, a nip on her neck, a pat on the bottom or his tongue down her throat and she’d soon forget what it was all about. He hoped he hadn’t lost his touch.

“Honey, what part of no didn’t you understand?” It was barely an audible whisper in her ear as he gently pulled her into his arms prepared to tame the tiger in her.

“No, no, no, you don’t understand!” She violently pulled away from him.

The penny dropped. She had tried to be subtle – it didn’t work. She wasn’t playing games with him. She was deadly serious. She wanted him home - or with her - tonight.

“Hannala?”

He rarely called her that. The hushed tone, the probing inflection, said it all. He leant his head to one side and engaged her eyes. She readily responded and looked anxiously into his. He didn’t have to say another word. They understood each other perfectly.

She pulled the slip of paper from her pocket and handed it to him.

The furrows on his brow deepened; his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

This was bad, very bad. In this instance knowledge, any knowledge, would be dangerous. He was alarmed, afraid; he feared how much she knew.

By Ann.