I'm just being honest. I love chapter 3 ..... and will wait patiently for you to post it.

It's good I like it.

Vendetta Chapter 3

by spookycc

A/N: I borrowed the cliffhanger idea for this chapter from a novel, almost 20 years old, but did a lot of adaptation to suit my purposes. ;-P

Special thanks to my beta and inspiration, my little sis, JudyG!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How's the shoulder?" Eames looked up as her partner passed her desk on the way to his.

"Not bad," the grimace on Goren's face belied his comment as he sat down across from his partner.

Mike Logan stepped out of interrogation and stood beside Goren's desk. "Shot in the back. I WANT the damned yellow son of a bitch who did this."

Goren cocked a half-smile at Logan. They'd begun hanging out a few nights a week, after Goren had royally pissed off his partner on his undercover assignment. Logan had a way with words, and the two had gotten to know each other better in the past couple weeks.

They'd just finished questioning the "thief" whose fake robbery had led to Goren's being shot. They had the name of the man who had hired him, Michael Quinn, a vehicle - an old beater - and they were running his name through the computers to try to find a recent address for him. The "thief" was also helping their sketch artist develop a description for them to go on...

Eames hit a few keys on her keyboard. "Here, I've got it!" She jotted down an address and they took off for their SUV...

An hour later, they were no closer to their prey. The address was bogus, a vacant lot. Goren and Eames called it a day, even though daylight was long since gone...

--------------------------------
Riker's Island
Next Morning

Palmer hadn't found much to smile about lately, and today had been no exception. Life in prison sucked. It didn't really rehabilitate many people, it just taught them how to break the law without getting caught. No one wanted to come back here, if they were lucky enough to be parolled.

Palmer stood in his area of the Yard, with his buddy Knox and two other men whom he'd allowed into his close-knit group. Trainees, if you will.

He looked across the yard, and saw someone he didn't know, talking to one of the other inmates.

"Who's the new meat?" he asked, tilting his chin in that direction.

Knox sidled closer to his protector. "Dunno his name, boss. I can find out, if you want me to."

Before Palmer could answer, the new prisoner walked across the yard and into his area. THAT took balls.

"Hey. New meat," Palmer smiled lopsidedly. "Who invited you over?"

The man held his hands up. "I ain't lookin' for trouble," he told Palmer. "Just trying to find out where I fit in."

"Not here," Palmer replied coldly.

"No? Why not?"

Knox swallowed a grunt of surprise that someone would come over here and speak that way to Palmer. He obviously didn't know who was who yet.

Palmer stepped closer to the new inmate. "Cuz this is MY turf, New Meat. You don't get invited in, you don't hang out here."

"I think I can decide where I wanna stand," "New Meat" replied.

"I think you just MIGHT be wrong."

Palmer took one step closer to the new inmate, who took a step forward at the same time. He shoved Palmer with both hands, hard. Palmer landed on his backside. He jumped up, redfaced, livid.

Palmer, Knox and their two wannabees jumped "New Meat". By the time the guards pulled them off, the new inmate had a black eye, a broken nose, and several cracked ribs. And he was lucky.

Two of the guards took the new inmate to the infirmary, and life went back to the way it was, as though nothing had happened...

--------------------------------
Apartment of Robert Goren
The following morning

The early morning phone call caused Robert Goren to sit straight up in bed, and his shoulder brought him instant regret at the swift movement. He hadn't been asleep, hadn't slept well since they realized that Palmer was trying to make good on his threat...

Who was he kidding? He hadn't slept well since the undercover assignment, since he nearly lost the caring and respect of his partner...

"Detective Goren?" A voice he didn't recognize was on the other end of the line.

"Yeah?"

"This is Sergeant Simmons. I'm here in the Bronx..."

"What is it?" Goren had heard of Simmons. He was a good cop, a young cop.

"A suicide. In a parking lot behind a warehouse. It's your shooter, Quinn. I was gonna call it in, but you're not on-call and I thought you'd wanna know. You want me to call it in?"

"No. Wait for me," Goren said wearily, stumbling through his words, alarms sounding inside him. He jotted down the address, dressed quickly, and headed to the trunk of his Malibu. He found it in the back, under a bunch of stuff that he had to move to get to it.

It was almost sunrise, but the lot was on the west side of the warehouse, and was still ruled by darkness. Images were hazy and dull, like looking through frosted glass. Quinn's old blue Escort was parked nearby, with a garden hose running from its exhaust pipe into the cabin area. No other cars but Simmons' radio car.

A unformed patrolman, Simmons' partner presumably, waved and approached from the far side of the lot, where he was establishing the crime scene with familiar yellow tape.

Goren approached the Escort slowly. Why would his would-be killer commit suicide? They weren't THAT close to him, not yet... He was ready for anything. His attention was fully on the cloudy driver's side window. He hesitated by the driver's door, exhaust seeping from the seams, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, removed his gun from its holster, and pulled the door open, ready to shoot.

The head and body of Sergeant Simmons slumped out of the car, falling into his arms, his head badly cut where he had been clubbed.

Movement from behind him - As Goren dropped the sergeant and spun around, weapon in hand, the uniformed man, Mike Quinn, held a handgun trained on Goren's chest.

"Sucker," Quinn said, squeezing off his first shot.

The muzzle flash lit up in Goren's eyes - something every cop heard about, was warned about, and never wanted to witness. That peculiar brilliant color of sulphur yellow that warned of a bullet coming directly at you.

The first shot rammed into Goren's chest, as did the next and the next, sledgehammers at this distance. He felt the suffocating crush of ribs breaking. Darkness threatened from the edge of his eyes and willed him into unconsciousness, but he would not obey.

The loud barking of the handgun ceased, the smell of cordite overpowering the exhaust.

"Bastard," he heard Quinn say...


end chapter 3

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Where's the rest of the chapter? I know you left out something really, really important--like this is all a dream and our Bobby has not actually been shot!

You're killin' me Smalls!

I was sooooo excited when I read this chapter - I don't want anything bad to happen to Bobby, but I can't wait to see what's going to happen next. Bobby's down - no one knows where he is - this could be very bad.

Waiting for the next chapter .........

::ciaddict calls NOROMO galley:: Hi, Mario? Yeah, I'm over at the Vendetta thread. Looks like we are going to need to bring in an extra supply of tacos and Triple Chocolate Cheesecake. I know, I know....its hard to keep up with the demand, but things are getting critical over here. OK, bring in some extra help. Thanks Mario.

Well I know what was in Bobby's trunk, hell I have hidden in there enough, oops did I say that outloud, oooo, but left me at the edge of my seat.

WTH? Where's Alex? What happened? I don't know what to do. I think I need to sit down. He can't be hurt. It's my imagination, yeah that's it. I am curious as to who 'New Meat' is though. Where is chapter 4?

All I can say is, Thank GOD for tacos and cheesecake! And, thank you, too, ciaddict and Mario!

::sits on floor and stuffs face while waiting for chapter 4:: At this rate, I'll NEVER get chapter 5 done.....

I am thinking Chapter 4 could be up over the weekend.

I like the idea of a dream sequence!

Who is "Smalls"???



He may be down, but he ain't out.



Thanks for ordering the grub, ciaddict! I had tacos for lunch today. Been craving them ever since the original Haven thread tacos.



HAHAHA! Don't let my secret out, Jryan!



Chapter 4 isn't on "paper" yet, cifan. Bobby was going under the radar again, getting to the scene before it was called in to dispatch, and didn't wanna involve Alex. We all know how well that worked out for him in "Purgatory", don't we? He MIGHT have called her if they'd been on their old civil terms.



Remember it's nice to share tacos and cheesecake, flashy!

Yes we do. We aren't happy about it either, at least I am not. You are gonna solve it, right, at least attempt to?

I'm not planning to directly address the post-Purgatory chasm in this fic. If it happens, it will be fine. I still probably have some sort of post-Purgatory one-shot inside me somewhere...

Okay I can live with that.

OUCH!! I felt that. Please tell me Goren was wearing a vest.
Too suspenseful! I'm stressing now.

Here's some cheesecake, Kat.

Chapter 4. I wants it.

Great work!

::runs and puts on swimsuit::

Hey, Bobby! I'm ready! Would you put some sunscreen on my back? Please??? ::smiles sweetly and bats eyelashes up at Bobby::

OH NO!! Bobby's in deep trouble now! I'm waiting on pins and needles!

That's right neighborly of ya.



I won't tell til chapter four. If my beta-ees are a BIT less prolific this weekend, I should be able to get my next chapter up.

::waves at beta-ees::

Hi, ladies!



Can I have some cheesecake, too, ciaddict? It might give me energy to work on chapter 4. And some tacos would help, too.



Yea Ma'am Janx, as soon as I can.

And thanks!



Mulder did that once on The X-Files. He said it was more comfortable than a futon. Actually, that was a bed of nails.

I try and we are as close as any neighbors can get.

::waves back:: Hi

You know, you are killing me with all these X-Files references. I am just cramming my brain with as much as I can get in there. Doesn't work all the time, though.

Season 2, episode 20: Humbug.

Next chapter ready yet?

Thank you, not quite there yet. Working at it.

::waves back:: I probably won't be able to do anymore work on my story until Sunday morning.

Did someone say tacos and cheesecake?

Um... no. But thanks for asking, TCIF!



Season 3 isn't done downloading yet, don't go too fast!



YUM! Thanks, ciaddict!

Um...not even halfway there yet. Don't worry and with the overtime coming, don't worry about me going too fast.

Vendetta

Chapter 4

Special thanks to my beta and inspiration, my little Sis Judyg!

Michael Quinn turned towards Goren's car. Goren, peering out from squinting eyes, struggled to his feet, his weapon somehow still in his hand. He could barely breathe, but he managed to say to the other man's back, "Sucker."

Quinn pivoted around, staring in complete disbelief at the gaping holes in Goren's police vest, where no blood ran.

"No uniform would ever call me first, Quinn," Goren spoke in pinched words, barely able to get the words out through the pain raging in his chest. "They would call dispatch. Simmons gave you away."

Quinn stood there in a daze, staring at the empty holes in the kevlar vest. "I shot you," he mumbled. "It's over."

Goren told him to drop the weapon, hoping his voice didn't sound as weak as he felt.

Quinn raised his arm slowly, the gun aimed well away from Goren.

"Drop it!" Goren demanded again, bringing the head of his barrel level with the man's chest.

"I'm not going back in there," Quinn said. In a graceful, swift and fluid arc, he brought the barrel of his gun level to his own ear. He pulled the trigger.

Goren exhaled an agonizing breath and sank to his knees beside Simmons' car. He pulled out his cell phone and spoke in short, painful gasps. "I need a bus. Officers down."

He waited for their confirmation and ended the call, while he felt Simmons' neck for a pulse. The officer was still alive. Quinn had only dumped the officer there after the man's call to him. Goren pulled Simmons out beside him on the cement, in case fumes still lingered in the vehicle.

Then Goren pushed speed dial and listened as a familiar, once-comforting voice came on the line. He spoke for a moment before he blacked out and slumped to the ground beside the other officer's car.
--------------------------------------------------

Alex Eames pulled into the lot and her brakes squealed as she stopped just outside the real police tape. She ran between two ambulances and three blue and whites, flashing her badge to get through.

The paramedics were loading Sergeant Simmons into the back of one of the EMS units. Beyond them she caught sight of her partner, and rushed to his side.

Goren sat, his back leaning on Simmons' patrol car, an oxygen mask over his face. His head was down, and he didn't see her approaching.

"Bobby," Eames knelt beside him and he raised his head. "What the hell happened here? Are you OK?"

Goren raised a hand with one finger up, trying to catch his breath to speak, then grimacing at the pain that action caused. He coughed slightly, and that only made the pain worse.

Eames called one of the uniforms come over, and he filled her in on the story, or as much of it as he knew.

Eames' attention was drawn to the black vest that laid on the ground beside Goren. No doubt they'd removed it to help him breathe more easily. She picked it up and saw three deep dents in the thick kevlar material. She shuddered internally, as she realized how close she'd come to losing her partner today.

Eames opened Goren's shirt, where it lay unbuttoned against his chest - the EMT's had already checked him for external injuries. There were three bright red areas on his chest that would no doubt leave nasty bruises. But his breathing was regular, as long as he didn't try to talk.

She went over to check with the other EMT's, and they told her that they'd wanted to transport him in to be checked out further, but that he had refused. She walked back to where Goren sat.

"Goren." He saw her shadow fall over him, and looked up at her.

"You ARE going to the hospital long enough to be checked out. Is that clear?"

Goren sighed, scowled at the pain that caused, and then nodded. She motioned for the EMT's to help him up, and accompanied him to the ER.

---------------------------------------------------------------
Riker's Island
Same Day

Gene Palmer relaxed as comfortably as he could, on a cold, steel chair that had seen better days. He breathed in the stale, foul air in the "gym" - or what passed for a gym at Riker's.

His attention was drawn to the far side of the room. Well, well, the day was looking up. A familiar face made its way through inmates lifting weights, doing workouts.

Palmer stretched and got up from his chair. Knox, who'd been sitting unnoticed beside him, rose as well. Something was up.

They walked across the room together, and Knox saw where his buddy was headed, and smiled.

"Hey, New Meat!" All of the newer inmates stopped when Palmer yelled, but one of them knew EXACTLY who Palmer was calling. He turned the face the bully.

Palmer and Knox were on the man in an instant, and then they were on the floor, rolling around, with the new inmate absorbing most of the blows.

The guards started their way lazily in that direction, to break the fight up. Or not.

Suddenly a scream of pain echoed off the walls of the gym. The guards jogged over, then, as Knox scrambled to his feet and took off.

Palmer and the new inmate were both still on the floor. But one of them wasn't moving.

The guards discovered why.

He laid on his back, blood pulsing from an open wound in his neck. He bled out before the infirmiry techs and the doc even got there....

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Major Case squadroom
Later that day

"How's your partner?" Ross nodded in Goren's direction, but spoke to Eames.

"He'll be OK," Eames looked toward their desks, where Goren sat with a hand over his ribcage, studying a file.

"He knows he could leave early, after being shot three times, right?" Ross asked.

Eames smiled crookedly. "He just wants to finish the paperwork so he can call the Quinn case closed."

Ross headed to his office as Eames joined her partner.

"All the I's dotted? T's crossed?" The words were smart-a$$, but her delivery was not.

Goren looked up. "Yeah, I just need to - almost done." A pained look crossed his face, and he ran a hand over his stubbly chin, to try to cover it.

Eames was not fooled for a moment. "You COULD fill that prescription you got at the hospital, Bobby. I've heard those meds really work - if you TAKE them."

Goren shook his head. "Drugs don't - they make my head fuzzy."

"I know, you always say that," Eames shot back, albeit gently. "Sometimes a fuzzy head might just be a preferable alternative to pain."

Goren shrugged his shoulders and Eames sat a cup of coffee down in front of him. "As long as you're gonna be up til the paperwork's done, the caffeine will help," she smiled.

Goren smiled back at her. They'd had a talk while he sat waiting to be seen by a physician, at the ER. Things weren't like they used to be between them, but they were closer.

Ross walked over to their desks and stood between the partners. "I just got off the phone with Riker's," he stated simply. That caught their attention.

"It seems one Gene Palmer was killed today. A stab wound to the neck, in a prison brawl."
Goren and Eames looked at each other.

"The killer was a new inmate that was just sent to Riker's a couple weeks ago. Mike Stoat." Ross turned and left his detectives to absorb the information.

Goren leaned back as far as he could without hurting his two cracked ribs. Eames watched him, and she thought she saw the trace of a smile cross his scruffy features. One less black cloud in Goren's sky. A breath of relief they both shared.

Goren picked up his coat, and nodded toward the elevators. He walked Eames to her car, and saw her off before he gingerly lowered himself into his Chevy Malibu.

Maybe there was a light at the end of his tunnel. And if he was lucky, maybe it wasn't a train...

END

Excellent ending - Goren is Goren! He knew it was a set-up and that Simmons had tried to somehow alert him to it. Good twist.

Palmer was a twisted, evil man - Goren will finally be able to rest easy now that he's no longer a threat. Is it poetic justice that Palmer's killer is someone who probably wants Goren dead as well?

Indeed it is poetic justice and you were the poet that crafted that part. Thanks Lil Sis!

Belated thanks for the beef.... um I mean cheesecake. It helped.

I knew my Bobby Goren wouldn't have walked into that scene unprepared! A GREAT ending too.

Hey! A great twist, just like on the TV show! Well done, spook! Bravo! Bravo!

I really liked how you had it be Mike Stoat that killed Palmer. Pretty sneaky!

I really liked this story. You did a great job with it, and I enjoyed reading it.

Ya'll should check out the "first line -- last line" story challenge thread. I bit and had a great time with it. It's really quite fun!

I agree with Judy yet I didn't know she helped with it. Great job Judy. I loved the twist at the end. Very nice job, Spook.

Thanks, Kat!



Thanks to Judy for the Stoat killing Palmer idea, it was hers and a good one!

Thanks for reading and commenting, flashymom, I'm glad you liked it! I'd try out the first line-- last line, but I hardly have time to read many threads anymore.



Thanks, cifan! Glad you liked it!

Oh man! I just saw the new chapter, but I've gotta get back to the IWT. Well, the teenager is spending the night with a friend, so that means I have the apartment and the computer all to myself tonight. I know what I'm doing!

great job.

I did NOT see that coming! Beautiful, Spook, just beautiful!

Thanks Jryan!



Thanks ciaddict, I'm glad you liked it!

I just had an idea - you took it and made it work. Take the credit you deserve for another great story!!!

The idea and the execution were both brilliant. Good work girls!

We work well together.

And the rest of us are glad you do!

So am I, TCIF.

Very marvelous story, spookycc. Palmer was so rad as a bad guy. Loved it.

Thanks so much, DrEm! Glad you liked it!