This was written at the request of my friend E. Helena (FFN) in response to all the angst we've had since the beginning of Season 6. It was my attempt at humor, not my strongest genre. I'm much better with angst. Enjoy!
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Chapter 1: A Conflict of Body and Mind
Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative.
--H.G. Wells
Jimmy Deakins looked out across the squad room. It had been almost six months, and he still thought about how good it was to have Eames back. He'd begun to worry about her partner toward the end of her leave. Bishop had tried to fill her shoes, but she fell far short of the mark. He wasn't surprised. Without Eames, Goren floundered, flirting with the edge of an abyss she kept him from falling into. Bishop simply could not live up to that role. And she had no tolerance for his sometimes erratic behavior. Where Eames would laugh and draw him back to reality, Bishop was the one to draw away, uncertain and uncomfortable. With Eames he felt accepted and appreciated. With Bishop, he felt alienated, a freak in a world of normal men. Bishop had treated him like the others who did not understand him, something Eames never did. What he didn't understand, though, was why Goren still seemed edgy. He was uncertain, unable to find his way with her any more. It was like something had changed and he had no idea how to handle it, and Deakins wasn't sure there was anything he could do to help them. Initially, Bobby had been thrilled she was back. He remembered the pure joy on the man's face when she returned to the squad room. But that happiness had soon given way to uncertainty, and he had no idea what had happened. He felt certain they would work it out; they always did. But sooner was better than later. Edginess made Goren even more unpredictable than usual, and that made him unsettled. And Jimmy Deakins hated feeling unsettled.
When the phone rang, he turned back toward his desk and grabbed it. "Deakins." He listened carefully to the man on the other end of the line, jotting something on a piece of paper. "Yes, I have a team who can handle the job. Yes, sir. I'll keep you posted."
He leaned against the desk as he set the phone in its cradle. Maybe this was just what the doctor ordered, something that would once more set Goren at his ease with his partner. Perhaps they'd be able to reconnect with this assignment. They always seemed to like these undercover jobs.
He walked to the door and called to them. When they came into the office and Goren shut the door, he said, "Do you like camping?"
"Excuse me?" Eames asked.
"Camping. Do you like it?"
She looked at her partner, who shrugged. She turned back to Deakins. "Well...yes. Why?"
Deakins looked at Goren. "What about you, Bobby?"
He nodded. "I like camping."
"Good. Ever been to Lake George?"
Eames nodded. "A couple of times, when we were growing up."
When Deakins looked at him, Goren just nodded, offering nothing more. The captain tore a piece of paper from his pad and handed it to Eames. "The camping season just got off the ground, and they've had three attacks at a campground at Lake George. Two couples and a pair of brothers. No fatalities, but nothing much from the victims to go on. So I want you guys undercover to put a stop to this monkey. Lake George is a huge tourist destination and the governor wants this taken care of post haste. I know it's out of our jurisdiction, but the governor called us in because we have a reputation for handling difficult, high-profile cases quickly and efficiently. So get your gear and go be quick and efficient. Bring me back a pine cone or something...and a perp."
Goren swallowed hard as they left the office. Oh, God...camping...with Eames... How the hell was he going to handle that? He was barely able to handle working with her lately. He'd been so glad to have her back after her interminable maternity leave. But a few weeks ago, something changed drastically. He knew she'd worked hard getting back in shape after delivering her nephew, and he'd suddenly become very aware of exactly what that shape was. Now his body was constantly telling his mind that his partner was a woman, as though he'd never realized it before. And the contradiction between the two was driving him nuts.
Eames watched her partner settle at his desk, wondering at the tension that had not been there before. "Is there a problem, Goren?" she asked, suddenly annoyed at his emotional unpredictability.
"Uh, no. Why would you think that?" he muttered as he finished clearing his desk.
She watched him grab his portfolio and start toward the elevators, stopping halfway there when he sensed she wasn't behind him. He turned, a questioning look in his eyes. Standing beside her desk, she motioned him back. "Genius," she said quietly when he returned to her side. "We need to make reservations at the campground."
"Right now? We, uh, need to get camping gear..."
"We can borrow gear from my parents."
"I have some stuff..."
"So what do we need to get?"
"A tent, for one."
"You camp without a tent?"
"Sometimes, but the tent I have is, uh, small."
"One man?"
"Two actually."
She touched her chest and then his, counting. "One...two...Where's the problem?"
He stepped away from her in what he hoped was a casual manner and dropped back into his chair. She was going to be the death of him. Envisioning the dimensions of his tent, and remembering the last time he took a woman camping, he shook his head adamantly. "We need a bigger tent."
She laughed quietly as she sat down and picked up the phone. "Okay, Brody. We'll get a bigger tent."
He breathed a soft sigh of relief, but it was short lived. There was no way she was going to let him get one of those ten-man, three room cabin tents, so he was kind of in the same boat...an unspecified amount of time in a small tent—face it, his size made damn near everything small—with his partner. And the boat was sinking fast...
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"So, exactly what equipment do you have?"
He faltered at the question, silently grateful she was busy examining the shelves of plates and cookware and didn't notice. "I, uh, I have two pots, a frying pan and a coffee pot. Um, two sets of plates and utensils..." He closed his eyes to imagine the contents of the three boxes in the basement storage cage. "Two sleeping bags, mats, blankets and pillows."
Silence. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him. "What?"
"Do much camping for two?"
"Not lately."
She gave him an odd look and headed for the next aisle. "What's wrong? Eames?"
"Nothing's wrong," she assured him as he caught up to her. She studied the shelves of flashlights and lanterns. "No lanterns?"
"Uh, no."
She shifted her gaze back to him, a sly, amused smile teasing her lips. "Why not?"
His tongue tried to moisten his lips but he suddenly found his mouth dry. "Look, Eames, let's just get what you want and get out of here."
She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his attention there with the movement. He forced his eyes away, hoping she didn't notice, and began examining the camping lanterns. She watched him, keeping her smile away from her face. "No, Bobby. I want to know how you manage camping with no light."
"There's usually a campfire...and a moon sometimes."
"And you take a campfire to bed?"
"Why would I have to do that? I don't need a light to undress."
"Tell me you, of all people, don't read at bedtime."
"Not usually when I'm camping, Eames."
No, when he went camping he usually had other distractions that kept his mind away from books. Her smile was fighting against her will. This was too much fun. "Why not?"
Now he was embarrassed. "Can we just get what we need and get going? We're going to need an early start if we want to make that one o'clock reservation you made for tomorrow."
"Then I'll let you drive."
He looked at her, surprised. "You hate my driving."
"I hate your avoidance more."
"I'm not avoiding anything. You know damn well what I'm talking about, and I don't want to discuss it in the middle of a crowded store."
"No, you just don't want to discuss it with me."
"Well, that, too. Look, if you want to swap war stories, fine. But you go first."
She gave him a wicked smile and started to move past him. Hesitating beside him, she laid a hand on his arm, leaned in and whispered, "My last boyfriend liked to do it in the bathtub. Get a lantern, Bobby."
He closed his eyes and leaned against the shelf. Was she really trying to kill him? It took a few minutes for him to recover, and even at that he cursed at his mind, which was now merrily jaunting down the lane after his damn body. I am in so much trouble...
He looked around, readjusted his pants and wished like hell he was wearing jeans. He grabbed two battery-powered lanterns and almost reluctantly went in search of his partner. Evil woman...
He found her looking at tents...small two-man dome tents. "Are you sure you don't want a bigger tent?"
She looked at him. "Why?"
"Face it, Eames. I'm not a small guy."
"And I'm not a large woman. We complement each other well. We don't need a big tent."
His mind scrambled for another argument. Springtime could be unpredictably wet, and while he liked sleeping outside without a tent, he preferred not to in the rain. "Are you a quiet sleeper?"
"Are you asking if I talk in my sleep?"
"No. I'm asking if you travel in your sleep. You know, are you restless?"
"How should I know? Are you?"
"Uh, only when I have nightmares." He was uncertain about divulging that was a nightly occurrance. "No one ever told you that you're a restless sleeper?"
"No. Do you expect me to be?"
"That's a prediction I can't make, Eames."
"You've seen me sleep."
"Not in a bed."
"We won't be in a bed now."
He sighed. Was she being this way intentionally? "Can we just get a bigger tent, please?"
"What size did you have in mind?"
That one over there, the one that's about the size of my apartment, would be nice... But he was certain she'd be offended by that choice. So he suggested a four-man dome tent, and she went along with it readily, to his great relief.
After another hour of discomfort for him and amusement for her, they finished in the sporting goods store and headed for his apartment.
Full Version: Nature's Imperative
Chapter 2: Taking Stock of His Equipment
He unlocked the apartment door and pushed it open, letting her enter first. It took a moment for him to realize his eyes were watching her ass move from side to side as he followed her. Great...he no longer even had a clue. The portion of his mind that retained its sense was vastly outnumbered by the rest of him. He'd left trouble behind long ago. Now he was flirting with disaster.
He continued through the living room to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator for a beer, as was his habit at the end of the workday. Dinner, a beer or two, some television and he was ready to sleep for a couple of hours. But the little corner of his mind with a modicum of sense kicked in. Don't be stupid, Goren. Do you really want any alcohol in your system with her around? At least wait until she goes home.
That made more sense than anything else his mind could come up with. Annoyed, he wondered where that voice had been earlier and he grabbed a can of cola. He was caught off-guard when her head appeared over the refrigerator door. "Any of those wine coolers left from the other day?"
"Uh, sure..."
He leaned in and grabbed one for her. Twisting off the cap, he handed it to her. "Thanks," she smiled. "So where is this camping equipment you have?"
"Down in the basement storage area."
"Basement storage? How did you rate that?"
"Fifty dollars a month and the landlord likes me."
"Fifty? Mine charges three times that and there's a two-year wait. Half the people on the list have already moved out. My parents have an attic, and that's free."
"You have an option," he pointed out, closing the refrigerator and moving past her to the living room.
She followed him and watched as he opened a drawer in his desk. She couldn't help wondering at his behavior lately. She was doing everything she could to set him at ease, but half the time it just seemed to put him more on edge. Comments he laughed at six months ago seemed to annoy him of late. No, annoy wasn't the word...he wasn't usually annoyed with her. But he was tense. Okay, maybe tense was an understatement. She got the impression that if she touched him, he'd come apart at the seams, and he never used to be that way. Something had changed lately, but she had no idea what. Usually, she was good at determining the source of his tension, but not this time.
As he opened the front door, she was drawn from her reverie. She left the apartment and waited for him to lock the door. He didn't say anything as he headed for the stairwell, so she remained silent, letting her eyes peruse his body as she followed him. She loved watching him. He was more fun in the interrogation room than anyone she'd ever known. Who would have thought an interrogation could be fun? With Bobby, it was. But aside from that, when he wasn't playing up his bumbling detective routine, it was amazing to watch him move. He had a natural grace she admired. And the easy sway of his hips was downright sexy...where the hell did that come from? Sexy...she hadn't given much thought to that before, but damn if he wasn't. Suddenly, she was mindful of certain rumors circulating around 1PP, the ones that were not usually generated by fellow officers but by mostly civilian female support staff, although more than one female cop was responsible for some of them. One female cop in particular came to mind, and she wondered if she was responsible for any of those rumors. "Have you ever dated Shaw?"
Jacqueline Shaw was obnoxious and snobby, but she had a body that would not quit and most of the male population of the building, married or not, drooled after her. None of them seemed to care about her attitude, not that Eames was surprised by that. This was a test for her partner, a measure of his caliber as a man in her eyes. Was he like all the others, blinded by a hot body? He stumbled down the last two steps to the landing and turned to look at her, wondering where the hell that had come from. "What?"
"You heard me. Jacqueline Shaw...works in the evidence room...you know, bleach blonde, about five-ten, boobs out to here..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know who you mean, Eames." The last thing he needed was her drawing his attention to her chest again. "What I meant was what does it matter? Why are you asking me that?"
"Just curious."
He shrugged, throwing his own question back at her. "Have you ever dated Blackman?"
Tim Blackman was the male equivalent of Shaw. She wrinkled her nose distastefully. She hated guys who were full of themselves, and Blackman was full to overflowing. It bothered her that he was avoiding an answer to her question, but she gave him an answer to his. "Not if he was the last man alive."
Why the hell did he feel relieved? Before she got pregnant, he didn't care who she dated. She even shared some of her more amusing misadventures with him, and he laughed at them. But lately he failed to find humor in any aspect of her dating. What was wrong with him?
She reached out and thumped his forehead. Standing two steps up from the landing she was now much closer to his height and she could reach his forehead with ease. "I said--'I answered you, now you answer me.' Geez, where the hell are you today?"
Someplace I really don't want to be, but can't get the hell away from. "Uh, n-no, Eames. I never dated her."
"Why not? Are you trying to tell me you haven't noticed that body? And she'd date Oscar the Grouch if he asked and he was a good lay."
His eyebrows arched in surprise. "That's not nice," he pointed out, amused.
"When she gives me cause to be nice, I'll stop being catty. But as long as she continues to act the way she does, I am going to continue to dislike her."
"So you're comparing me to Oscar the Grouch? Or are you saying if she doesn't care who she dates, I might have a shot?"
"No, stupid. Quit putting words in my mouth. You have a reputation around the building, and if she's gotten the slightest hint of it, which I know she has, I'd be shocked if she wasn't chasing after you."
He had no idea what she was driving at. "I know about my reputation, and I doubt it would make anyone chase after me."
"Not that reputation. This one has nothing to do with jealousy or your job. Well, maybe it creates some jealousy...Never mind. Are you going to answer me or not?"
He had another reputation at work? "What are you talking about?"
"Never mind that. Are you going to tell me why you're not interested in Shaw like the rest of the building?"
"Does it matter?"
"I'm curious."
"I'm not superficial. I look for more in a date than a hot body. "
"Ah...you admit she has a hot body."
Why did this seem to bother her? "I'm not blind."
"And that was not an answer."
He sighed. "I talked to her once, and that was enough. She has a bad attitude about certain things and that took care of any interest I might have had in taking her out."
"Like what?"
"I'm not going to give you a transcript of the conversation. Can we get off the stairs now?"
She studied him for another moment. "Go on," she huffed.
He continued down the stairs. He regretted annoying her but he was not about to recount the things Shaw had said. And after he rejected her advances, a new flurry of rumors about him and Eames had popped up. He didn't have to be a genius to know where they'd come from. And he didn't have to be a guy to get why the male portion of the building believed them. None of them seemed to understand why he didn't want to date Shaw, so it only made sense in their minds that he must be screwing Eames. Neandertals. Looks weren't everything—even looks like that. And he didn't date for sex...well, not just for sex. Conversation was always nice, and it was important to have fun...and not just in the bedroom. He liked to give his dates a well-rounded experience and if they were interested in continuing on when he took them home, he was always willing. But it was more than obvious that Shaw, who had effectively killed any interest he might have had by badmouthing his partner, only wanted to get him into the bedroom and the one woman who did excite him, whether he wanted her to or not, had no interest at all in going anywhere near the bedroom...not with him, anyway. He was fighting a losing battle that he had no hope of winning, but his runaway mind and rebellious body would not concede defeat.
He unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs and let them into the basement proper. He flipped on the light. At the far end of the huge room was a set of metal cages, each filled with assorted goods and boxes and locked with a padlock. She hung back as he crossed the long room, watching him walk and enjoying every minute of it, until he stopped and turned, sensing she wasn't being him. Sometimes that sixth sense of his could be creepy.
"Is something wrong?"
She shook her head and caught up to him. "No, nothing's wrong."
He gave her an odd look but proceeded on. When he arrived at his unit, he unlocked the cage and they stepped into the small space. She looked around. Boxes were neatly stacked on shelves almost seven feet high. Even his storage space was tidy and organized. He moved around a couple of boxes and pulled several down from one of the upper shelves. "These two boxes have the dishes, the cooking racks, insect repellent, um, water bottles and water treatment chemicals, first aid kit...most of the essentials."
"Where do you camp? In outer Mongolia?"
"I, uh, prefer remote camping."
"And your girlfriends?"
"I never heard one complain." He pulled out two rolled sleeping bags from a lower shelf. "Sleeping bags, mats, blankets and pillows. Do you like hiking?"
"Yes."
"Backpacking?"
"Not on this trip. Maybe you can play pack mule another time."
He shrugged and pulled a cooler from another shelf. "This should do it. I'll take you home so you can pack and we can stop for groceries in the morning."
"It's at least a four hour drive to the campground. If we have to stop for groceries, too, maybe you should just sleep on my couch tonight. Then we can get an earlier start."
He struggled to appear noncommittal to her suggestion. He had struggled to get through this and out of the small area before his damn body realized how close this small space was forcing them to be. His mind had already taken stock of that and he was hard-pressed to keep his thoughts from dwelling on it. Now she wanted him to spend the night at her place? Who had he pissed off and how did he make it right again? Unfortunately, he could come up with no valid argument to say no...and his natural tendency was to let her have her way anyway. "Whatever you want to do. Just give me a few minutes to pack some clothes."
"Sounds like a plan."
Some plan...he thought unhappily. Her couch was decidedly uncomfortable, and coupled with a four-plus hour car ride, he knew he'd have a miserable day tomorrow. There was only one thing his upcoming discomfort had going for it: it would give him a focus away from her, if he was lucky...
He unlocked the apartment door and pushed it open, letting her enter first. It took a moment for him to realize his eyes were watching her ass move from side to side as he followed her. Great...he no longer even had a clue. The portion of his mind that retained its sense was vastly outnumbered by the rest of him. He'd left trouble behind long ago. Now he was flirting with disaster.
He continued through the living room to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator for a beer, as was his habit at the end of the workday. Dinner, a beer or two, some television and he was ready to sleep for a couple of hours. But the little corner of his mind with a modicum of sense kicked in. Don't be stupid, Goren. Do you really want any alcohol in your system with her around? At least wait until she goes home.
That made more sense than anything else his mind could come up with. Annoyed, he wondered where that voice had been earlier and he grabbed a can of cola. He was caught off-guard when her head appeared over the refrigerator door. "Any of those wine coolers left from the other day?"
"Uh, sure..."
He leaned in and grabbed one for her. Twisting off the cap, he handed it to her. "Thanks," she smiled. "So where is this camping equipment you have?"
"Down in the basement storage area."
"Basement storage? How did you rate that?"
"Fifty dollars a month and the landlord likes me."
"Fifty? Mine charges three times that and there's a two-year wait. Half the people on the list have already moved out. My parents have an attic, and that's free."
"You have an option," he pointed out, closing the refrigerator and moving past her to the living room.
She followed him and watched as he opened a drawer in his desk. She couldn't help wondering at his behavior lately. She was doing everything she could to set him at ease, but half the time it just seemed to put him more on edge. Comments he laughed at six months ago seemed to annoy him of late. No, annoy wasn't the word...he wasn't usually annoyed with her. But he was tense. Okay, maybe tense was an understatement. She got the impression that if she touched him, he'd come apart at the seams, and he never used to be that way. Something had changed lately, but she had no idea what. Usually, she was good at determining the source of his tension, but not this time.
As he opened the front door, she was drawn from her reverie. She left the apartment and waited for him to lock the door. He didn't say anything as he headed for the stairwell, so she remained silent, letting her eyes peruse his body as she followed him. She loved watching him. He was more fun in the interrogation room than anyone she'd ever known. Who would have thought an interrogation could be fun? With Bobby, it was. But aside from that, when he wasn't playing up his bumbling detective routine, it was amazing to watch him move. He had a natural grace she admired. And the easy sway of his hips was downright sexy...where the hell did that come from? Sexy...she hadn't given much thought to that before, but damn if he wasn't. Suddenly, she was mindful of certain rumors circulating around 1PP, the ones that were not usually generated by fellow officers but by mostly civilian female support staff, although more than one female cop was responsible for some of them. One female cop in particular came to mind, and she wondered if she was responsible for any of those rumors. "Have you ever dated Shaw?"
Jacqueline Shaw was obnoxious and snobby, but she had a body that would not quit and most of the male population of the building, married or not, drooled after her. None of them seemed to care about her attitude, not that Eames was surprised by that. This was a test for her partner, a measure of his caliber as a man in her eyes. Was he like all the others, blinded by a hot body? He stumbled down the last two steps to the landing and turned to look at her, wondering where the hell that had come from. "What?"
"You heard me. Jacqueline Shaw...works in the evidence room...you know, bleach blonde, about five-ten, boobs out to here..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know who you mean, Eames." The last thing he needed was her drawing his attention to her chest again. "What I meant was what does it matter? Why are you asking me that?"
"Just curious."
He shrugged, throwing his own question back at her. "Have you ever dated Blackman?"
Tim Blackman was the male equivalent of Shaw. She wrinkled her nose distastefully. She hated guys who were full of themselves, and Blackman was full to overflowing. It bothered her that he was avoiding an answer to her question, but she gave him an answer to his. "Not if he was the last man alive."
Why the hell did he feel relieved? Before she got pregnant, he didn't care who she dated. She even shared some of her more amusing misadventures with him, and he laughed at them. But lately he failed to find humor in any aspect of her dating. What was wrong with him?
She reached out and thumped his forehead. Standing two steps up from the landing she was now much closer to his height and she could reach his forehead with ease. "I said--'I answered you, now you answer me.' Geez, where the hell are you today?"
Someplace I really don't want to be, but can't get the hell away from. "Uh, n-no, Eames. I never dated her."
"Why not? Are you trying to tell me you haven't noticed that body? And she'd date Oscar the Grouch if he asked and he was a good lay."
His eyebrows arched in surprise. "That's not nice," he pointed out, amused.
"When she gives me cause to be nice, I'll stop being catty. But as long as she continues to act the way she does, I am going to continue to dislike her."
"So you're comparing me to Oscar the Grouch? Or are you saying if she doesn't care who she dates, I might have a shot?"
"No, stupid. Quit putting words in my mouth. You have a reputation around the building, and if she's gotten the slightest hint of it, which I know she has, I'd be shocked if she wasn't chasing after you."
He had no idea what she was driving at. "I know about my reputation, and I doubt it would make anyone chase after me."
"Not that reputation. This one has nothing to do with jealousy or your job. Well, maybe it creates some jealousy...Never mind. Are you going to answer me or not?"
He had another reputation at work? "What are you talking about?"
"Never mind that. Are you going to tell me why you're not interested in Shaw like the rest of the building?"
"Does it matter?"
"I'm curious."
"I'm not superficial. I look for more in a date than a hot body. "
"Ah...you admit she has a hot body."
Why did this seem to bother her? "I'm not blind."
"And that was not an answer."
He sighed. "I talked to her once, and that was enough. She has a bad attitude about certain things and that took care of any interest I might have had in taking her out."
"Like what?"
"I'm not going to give you a transcript of the conversation. Can we get off the stairs now?"
She studied him for another moment. "Go on," she huffed.
He continued down the stairs. He regretted annoying her but he was not about to recount the things Shaw had said. And after he rejected her advances, a new flurry of rumors about him and Eames had popped up. He didn't have to be a genius to know where they'd come from. And he didn't have to be a guy to get why the male portion of the building believed them. None of them seemed to understand why he didn't want to date Shaw, so it only made sense in their minds that he must be screwing Eames. Neandertals. Looks weren't everything—even looks like that. And he didn't date for sex...well, not just for sex. Conversation was always nice, and it was important to have fun...and not just in the bedroom. He liked to give his dates a well-rounded experience and if they were interested in continuing on when he took them home, he was always willing. But it was more than obvious that Shaw, who had effectively killed any interest he might have had by badmouthing his partner, only wanted to get him into the bedroom and the one woman who did excite him, whether he wanted her to or not, had no interest at all in going anywhere near the bedroom...not with him, anyway. He was fighting a losing battle that he had no hope of winning, but his runaway mind and rebellious body would not concede defeat.
He unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs and let them into the basement proper. He flipped on the light. At the far end of the huge room was a set of metal cages, each filled with assorted goods and boxes and locked with a padlock. She hung back as he crossed the long room, watching him walk and enjoying every minute of it, until he stopped and turned, sensing she wasn't being him. Sometimes that sixth sense of his could be creepy.
"Is something wrong?"
She shook her head and caught up to him. "No, nothing's wrong."
He gave her an odd look but proceeded on. When he arrived at his unit, he unlocked the cage and they stepped into the small space. She looked around. Boxes were neatly stacked on shelves almost seven feet high. Even his storage space was tidy and organized. He moved around a couple of boxes and pulled several down from one of the upper shelves. "These two boxes have the dishes, the cooking racks, insect repellent, um, water bottles and water treatment chemicals, first aid kit...most of the essentials."
"Where do you camp? In outer Mongolia?"
"I, uh, prefer remote camping."
"And your girlfriends?"
"I never heard one complain." He pulled out two rolled sleeping bags from a lower shelf. "Sleeping bags, mats, blankets and pillows. Do you like hiking?"
"Yes."
"Backpacking?"
"Not on this trip. Maybe you can play pack mule another time."
He shrugged and pulled a cooler from another shelf. "This should do it. I'll take you home so you can pack and we can stop for groceries in the morning."
"It's at least a four hour drive to the campground. If we have to stop for groceries, too, maybe you should just sleep on my couch tonight. Then we can get an earlier start."
He struggled to appear noncommittal to her suggestion. He had struggled to get through this and out of the small area before his damn body realized how close this small space was forcing them to be. His mind had already taken stock of that and he was hard-pressed to keep his thoughts from dwelling on it. Now she wanted him to spend the night at her place? Who had he pissed off and how did he make it right again? Unfortunately, he could come up with no valid argument to say no...and his natural tendency was to let her have her way anyway. "Whatever you want to do. Just give me a few minutes to pack some clothes."
"Sounds like a plan."
Some plan...he thought unhappily. Her couch was decidedly uncomfortable, and coupled with a four-plus hour car ride, he knew he'd have a miserable day tomorrow. There was only one thing his upcoming discomfort had going for it: it would give him a focus away from her, if he was lucky...
Hi Bubba here, this was a good read, nice job.
QUOTE (Bubba_Bridges @ Jun 29 2008, 06:40 PM) 
Hi Bubba here, this was a good read, nice job.
Thanks, Bubba. I'm going to post the rest of it now. Keep reading--the interrogation scene is one of the best scenes in the story!
OMGosh, I just can't get past the title to the 2nd chapter.... it just struck me a sooo funny, I can't even begin to tell you....
Oooh, I think I'm looking forward to the interrogation scene.
Oooh, I think I'm looking forward to the interrogation scene.
Chapter 3: Stray Thoughts Make for Cold Showers
Bobby got everything packed into the back of the SUV, leaving the back seat open for whatever food they got in the morning. He set his cooler on the floor behind the driver's seat. Eames had threatened to let him drive, but he knew she wouldn't. She liked driving too much, and she hated his "fighter pilot tendencies" even more. He climbed into the passenger seat with a paper bag. Alex nodded at it. "What's that?"
"Cold packs."
"For?"
For me, he thought. But he doubted she would appreciate that particular use of cold packs, so he answered, "For the cooler. Unless you particularly want to take your chances. We can get milk and meat that doesn't need to be refrigerated..."
"Don't even think about it. I do not eat any meat proceeded by the word 'potted' or anything with Spam on the ingredient list. I got Spammed out as a kid; Dad loves the stuff. We'll put the cold packs in the freezer when we get to my place."
She started the car and pulled away from the curb, heading for her apartment. He turned to look out the window because looking at her only got him into trouble...and he wasn't going to be home alone tonight. He already planned on having a rough night on her couch; he didn't need to compound it. He set his mind to reviewing the past few weeks. While working a crime scene, he seemed to be fine, thankfully. His damn mind was still able to focus on the job that needed to be done. Of course, once the day was over and they set out for their separate homes, that was when his wayward mind began causing trouble for the rest of him. If she wasn't his partner, he wouldn't have these issues. He would ask her out and the problem would be solved. But since he put her in a "hands-off" position in his life, and he absolutely would not risk losing her as a partner, he was consigned to deal with this problem whenever he had an idle moment. God, life sucked sometimes...
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Once they arrived at her apartment, she made a quick dinner of tomato soup, which she knew he liked, and they settled in the living room. She wondered why he chose to sit in the easy chair rather than on the couch, but she decided not to give it too much thought. He was making her think too much lately. She opened the case file containing the few pages the local police had faxed them and puzzled over their victim list. Two couples and a pair of brothers, physically attacked in a remote part of the campground. Both couples had been newlyweds. They weren't quite sure where the brothers fit in. "So what's with the brothers here? They just don't fit the victim profile."
He raised an eyebrow at her choice of terminology. Without looking up, she shook a finger at him. "I pay attention to you."
He smiled. He paid attention to her as well...more and more as time passed, as a matter of fact. He sighed softly and forced his mind back to the case. "You're right. They don't fit...unless..."
"Unless they aren't brothers."
She was able to follow his train of thought with greater ease, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. It certainly made working cases easier. But he prayed he wasn't sending off any other signals for her to pick up on. No one else had her thankfully unique ability to stop him dead in his tracks. With a single offhanded remark, she could derail his mind and it wasn't always easy to get it back on the rail. Sometimes she seemed to notice his struggle, and it earned him a triumphant grin. She apparently took great delight in befuddling him.
"You think maybe they were newlyweds as well?"
"It fits. A lot of gay couples are discrete about their relationships; I wouldn't rule it out."
"Our perp is after newlyweds..." She shuffled the papers around. "According to the campground owner, the other two couples were 'obviously honeymooners'...Honeymooners? At a campground?"
"Not everyone goes to the Caribbean or Niagara Falls, Eames."
"And you would know this...how?" He shot her a glare that made her laugh. "So I guess we're honeymooning at Lake George."
"I guess so."
A couple assignment was a scenario he both looked forward to and dreaded, as if his mind didn't live with enough contradictions. It was going to short-circuit one of these days and where would that leave him? He didn't even want to think about that. He sighed to himself. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable honeymoon, at least for him. Maybe he should have insisted on the bigger tent...
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He woke easily early the next morning after a long night of disturbing dreams. He was no longer certain which he preferred: his nightmares or the far more pleasant dreams that often left him frustrated and aching for release. He sat up and stretched his sore back. It wasn't that she didn't have a nice couch. He just wished it was more comfortable. It fit well with the room's decor, and it was comfortable enough to sit on. But for a guy his size...well, it was about eight inches too short and there was one particular spring that sat in the middle of his back no matter which direction he chose to lay on the damn thing. Once, about three weeks ago, she had offered to let him sleep in her bed. That finished him off for the night; he'd gone home.
He sighed to himself and let his eyes wander around the room. He'd always been impressed by the feel of her apartment. His place was comfortable, but it had the feel of what it was: a place to go when he had nowhere better to be. Her apartment had a much more lived-in feel. It was neat with just the right amount of clutter to make it seem like someone's home. She took good care of her home, like everything else in her life, including him.
Absently, he looked down the hall toward her bedroom and his mind set to wandering. He tried to stop it, but lately, his thoughts were about the last thing he had control over. Attempting to focus on the case that lay before them did no good. The sketchy details in their case file were hardly enough to focus one thought on, much less a train of them.
He knew that he couldn't let Eames know what had been going on with him over the past few weeks. But it was getting worse and he was afraid she'd begun to notice, in spite of his efforts to keep his thoughts, and everything else, hidden. He'd been fortunate last night when she called it an early one and headed to bed around ten, after one last ditch effort to get him to let her take the couch. It had taken the better part of three hours for him to settle enough to finally drift off into an uneasy slumber. His mind never rested, and it wasn't letting his body get much rest these days either.
He was setting his wandering thoughts in the direction of breakfast when he heard her alarm go off, and immediately his mind produced images of her waking and getting out of bed. Damn. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch and tried to focus on something else. Anything else would be preferable to the discomfort that came with dwelling on his current thoughts. So he went into the kitchen and began making coffee, concentrating on the individual steps of the familiar task to occupy his mind. It took less than five minutes. Now what? Oh, yeah...breakfast...
He opened the refrigerator and took out the eggs. Turning to the breadbox on the counter, he pulled out a loaf of bread. French toast...that's a good choice...she likes French toast...
He was focusing so intently on the task of making their breakfast that he missed the sound of her door opening. He set out a large bowl and was about to crack an egg over it when he realized he needed the milk. Cursing at his recent absent-mindedness, he turned toward the refrigerator, egg still in hand. And there she was, sleep-disheveled and beautiful, standing in the doorway. Her robe hung open just a little and she smiled. He dropped the egg. The crack-splat of egg meeting linoleum interrupted his racing, well, everything, and he softly swore. "Damn...uh, I mean, good morning," he muttered as he grabbed a few paper towels and bent down to wipe up the mess.
"Good morning," she answered with a soft laugh, her voice still husky with sleep.
He'd heard that voice many times, waking her from a sound sleep to meet him at a crime scene. So why did it send shivers down his spine today? He scrambled for a coherent thought that wouldn't get him slapped. "Um, there's coffee...and I'll have breakfast ready shortly."
If I can keep my hands on the damn eggs...
"That sounds great."
She walked over to the coffee pot, leaning close to breathe in the fresh coffee smell. She made a soft sound of pleasure.
If he'd been eating or drinking something, he would have choked. He was heading for trouble and he knew it, but looking at her at that moment, he really didn't care. He couldn't take his eyes from her. What was wrong with him?
She got down two cups and poured the coffee. Adding a generous amount of sugar to hers and milk to both, she turned toward him. Fortunately, something kick-started him and he managed to turn his attention back to the egg before she noticed he was gaping at her. Idiot.
She watched him drop the paper towel mess into the trash and retrieve the milk from the refrigerator. His movements seemed a little stiff to her. "Sleep well?"
He snorted. "Do I ever?"
"I've told you before, I can sleep comfortably on that couch."
Here we go again. "I'm not chasing you out of your bed."
Around it, maybe...and into it, definitely...Stop it already!
Wonderful...now he was arguing with himself...and losing... She had no clue what she did to him. She smiled warmly. "It's your back, partner." She headed out of the kitchen with her coffee. "Since you're busy, I'll shower first. I'll be ready in about a half hour. You can shower after breakfast."
Shower...yes, he could do with a cold shower right about now. Damn.
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Eames stepped into the hot shower and tried to think about the case, but she couldn't concentrate. Not when her mind kept straying to the man in the other room, and her thoughts were about as far from partner as they could get. She sighed as she let the hot water caress her skin, and she wished it wasn't water caressing her. How ridiculous was she being? There was no way he could be interested in her. No way. He was her partner, and that was all he saw her as. Partner. She sensed his recent tension and interpreted it as residual resentment toward her maternity leave. She heard about the difficulty he'd had coping in her absence, and she'd already promised herself she wouldn't do that to him again. Reggie had her little son and there was no way she could go through it again, no matter how much she loved her sister. It had been too difficult to say good-bye to the baby she'd given birth to. And it's not like there was a baby of her own on the horizon any time soon. No, Bobby was safe; she wasn't going anywhere. All she had left to do was convince him of that. Well, she had plenty of time now to reassure him. They were going to be stuck together in a tent for a few days at least, trying to lure in an attacker. She wondered if Bobby's size would be a deterrent for the guy. Of course, his size did not intimidate her...just the opposite. Unwanted images of a forgotten dream popped into her head and she softly gasped. It suddenly dawned on her that she would be sleeping beside him for the next few nights. Suppose she said something unfortunate in her sleep. Oh, God, that would really freak him out. What the hell was she going to do now? Not sleep? That was a more attractive option than the alternative of calling out his name from the middle of an erotic dream...not to mention the disturbing fact that she even had those dreams about him. And spending a casual day with him was guaranteed to fuel exactly that sort of dream. Oh, lord, she was in deep trouble.
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Breakfast was ready when she came out of the bedroom dressed in hiking boots, khaki shorts and a snug blue short-sleeved shirt. He was eternally grateful that the plate he was setting on the table was almost down or he would probably have dropped it. How the hell was he going to handle being so close to her for the next several days without causing some kind of disaster at their campsite? She might get a little upset if he set something on fire.
She headed into the kitchen for fresh coffee and he watched her for as long as he possibly could without her noticing. She returned to the table and sat across from him, smiling. "French toast..." She licked her lips as she helped herself to the bread and he forgot how to think.
She continued talking in a light tone. "We'll finish eating and I'll make out a shopping list while you shower. Then we'll head to the store and be on our way. Sound like a plan?"
He managed some kind of sound that she took for assent and he recovered enough to swallow down two pieces of French toast. He spent every day in close proximity to her and he never had this kind of trouble. Okay, he couldn't always jump up from his desk right away, but he was always able to process his thoughts. He guessed that the environment of the squad room helped to keep him in check most of the time. Slowly it dawned on him that his times of greatest difficulty were when he was in a casual setting with her...or alone at home. At work he was generally okay, and that was reassuring. He glanced over at her as she slid a piece of syrup-laden toast into her mouth. It was past time for that shower.
Bobby got everything packed into the back of the SUV, leaving the back seat open for whatever food they got in the morning. He set his cooler on the floor behind the driver's seat. Eames had threatened to let him drive, but he knew she wouldn't. She liked driving too much, and she hated his "fighter pilot tendencies" even more. He climbed into the passenger seat with a paper bag. Alex nodded at it. "What's that?"
"Cold packs."
"For?"
For me, he thought. But he doubted she would appreciate that particular use of cold packs, so he answered, "For the cooler. Unless you particularly want to take your chances. We can get milk and meat that doesn't need to be refrigerated..."
"Don't even think about it. I do not eat any meat proceeded by the word 'potted' or anything with Spam on the ingredient list. I got Spammed out as a kid; Dad loves the stuff. We'll put the cold packs in the freezer when we get to my place."
She started the car and pulled away from the curb, heading for her apartment. He turned to look out the window because looking at her only got him into trouble...and he wasn't going to be home alone tonight. He already planned on having a rough night on her couch; he didn't need to compound it. He set his mind to reviewing the past few weeks. While working a crime scene, he seemed to be fine, thankfully. His damn mind was still able to focus on the job that needed to be done. Of course, once the day was over and they set out for their separate homes, that was when his wayward mind began causing trouble for the rest of him. If she wasn't his partner, he wouldn't have these issues. He would ask her out and the problem would be solved. But since he put her in a "hands-off" position in his life, and he absolutely would not risk losing her as a partner, he was consigned to deal with this problem whenever he had an idle moment. God, life sucked sometimes...
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Once they arrived at her apartment, she made a quick dinner of tomato soup, which she knew he liked, and they settled in the living room. She wondered why he chose to sit in the easy chair rather than on the couch, but she decided not to give it too much thought. He was making her think too much lately. She opened the case file containing the few pages the local police had faxed them and puzzled over their victim list. Two couples and a pair of brothers, physically attacked in a remote part of the campground. Both couples had been newlyweds. They weren't quite sure where the brothers fit in. "So what's with the brothers here? They just don't fit the victim profile."
He raised an eyebrow at her choice of terminology. Without looking up, she shook a finger at him. "I pay attention to you."
He smiled. He paid attention to her as well...more and more as time passed, as a matter of fact. He sighed softly and forced his mind back to the case. "You're right. They don't fit...unless..."
"Unless they aren't brothers."
She was able to follow his train of thought with greater ease, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. It certainly made working cases easier. But he prayed he wasn't sending off any other signals for her to pick up on. No one else had her thankfully unique ability to stop him dead in his tracks. With a single offhanded remark, she could derail his mind and it wasn't always easy to get it back on the rail. Sometimes she seemed to notice his struggle, and it earned him a triumphant grin. She apparently took great delight in befuddling him.
"You think maybe they were newlyweds as well?"
"It fits. A lot of gay couples are discrete about their relationships; I wouldn't rule it out."
"Our perp is after newlyweds..." She shuffled the papers around. "According to the campground owner, the other two couples were 'obviously honeymooners'...Honeymooners? At a campground?"
"Not everyone goes to the Caribbean or Niagara Falls, Eames."
"And you would know this...how?" He shot her a glare that made her laugh. "So I guess we're honeymooning at Lake George."
"I guess so."
A couple assignment was a scenario he both looked forward to and dreaded, as if his mind didn't live with enough contradictions. It was going to short-circuit one of these days and where would that leave him? He didn't even want to think about that. He sighed to himself. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable honeymoon, at least for him. Maybe he should have insisted on the bigger tent...
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He woke easily early the next morning after a long night of disturbing dreams. He was no longer certain which he preferred: his nightmares or the far more pleasant dreams that often left him frustrated and aching for release. He sat up and stretched his sore back. It wasn't that she didn't have a nice couch. He just wished it was more comfortable. It fit well with the room's decor, and it was comfortable enough to sit on. But for a guy his size...well, it was about eight inches too short and there was one particular spring that sat in the middle of his back no matter which direction he chose to lay on the damn thing. Once, about three weeks ago, she had offered to let him sleep in her bed. That finished him off for the night; he'd gone home.
He sighed to himself and let his eyes wander around the room. He'd always been impressed by the feel of her apartment. His place was comfortable, but it had the feel of what it was: a place to go when he had nowhere better to be. Her apartment had a much more lived-in feel. It was neat with just the right amount of clutter to make it seem like someone's home. She took good care of her home, like everything else in her life, including him.
Absently, he looked down the hall toward her bedroom and his mind set to wandering. He tried to stop it, but lately, his thoughts were about the last thing he had control over. Attempting to focus on the case that lay before them did no good. The sketchy details in their case file were hardly enough to focus one thought on, much less a train of them.
He knew that he couldn't let Eames know what had been going on with him over the past few weeks. But it was getting worse and he was afraid she'd begun to notice, in spite of his efforts to keep his thoughts, and everything else, hidden. He'd been fortunate last night when she called it an early one and headed to bed around ten, after one last ditch effort to get him to let her take the couch. It had taken the better part of three hours for him to settle enough to finally drift off into an uneasy slumber. His mind never rested, and it wasn't letting his body get much rest these days either.
He was setting his wandering thoughts in the direction of breakfast when he heard her alarm go off, and immediately his mind produced images of her waking and getting out of bed. Damn. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch and tried to focus on something else. Anything else would be preferable to the discomfort that came with dwelling on his current thoughts. So he went into the kitchen and began making coffee, concentrating on the individual steps of the familiar task to occupy his mind. It took less than five minutes. Now what? Oh, yeah...breakfast...
He opened the refrigerator and took out the eggs. Turning to the breadbox on the counter, he pulled out a loaf of bread. French toast...that's a good choice...she likes French toast...
He was focusing so intently on the task of making their breakfast that he missed the sound of her door opening. He set out a large bowl and was about to crack an egg over it when he realized he needed the milk. Cursing at his recent absent-mindedness, he turned toward the refrigerator, egg still in hand. And there she was, sleep-disheveled and beautiful, standing in the doorway. Her robe hung open just a little and she smiled. He dropped the egg. The crack-splat of egg meeting linoleum interrupted his racing, well, everything, and he softly swore. "Damn...uh, I mean, good morning," he muttered as he grabbed a few paper towels and bent down to wipe up the mess.
"Good morning," she answered with a soft laugh, her voice still husky with sleep.
He'd heard that voice many times, waking her from a sound sleep to meet him at a crime scene. So why did it send shivers down his spine today? He scrambled for a coherent thought that wouldn't get him slapped. "Um, there's coffee...and I'll have breakfast ready shortly."
If I can keep my hands on the damn eggs...
"That sounds great."
She walked over to the coffee pot, leaning close to breathe in the fresh coffee smell. She made a soft sound of pleasure.
If he'd been eating or drinking something, he would have choked. He was heading for trouble and he knew it, but looking at her at that moment, he really didn't care. He couldn't take his eyes from her. What was wrong with him?
She got down two cups and poured the coffee. Adding a generous amount of sugar to hers and milk to both, she turned toward him. Fortunately, something kick-started him and he managed to turn his attention back to the egg before she noticed he was gaping at her. Idiot.
She watched him drop the paper towel mess into the trash and retrieve the milk from the refrigerator. His movements seemed a little stiff to her. "Sleep well?"
He snorted. "Do I ever?"
"I've told you before, I can sleep comfortably on that couch."
Here we go again. "I'm not chasing you out of your bed."
Around it, maybe...and into it, definitely...Stop it already!
Wonderful...now he was arguing with himself...and losing... She had no clue what she did to him. She smiled warmly. "It's your back, partner." She headed out of the kitchen with her coffee. "Since you're busy, I'll shower first. I'll be ready in about a half hour. You can shower after breakfast."
Shower...yes, he could do with a cold shower right about now. Damn.
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Eames stepped into the hot shower and tried to think about the case, but she couldn't concentrate. Not when her mind kept straying to the man in the other room, and her thoughts were about as far from partner as they could get. She sighed as she let the hot water caress her skin, and she wished it wasn't water caressing her. How ridiculous was she being? There was no way he could be interested in her. No way. He was her partner, and that was all he saw her as. Partner. She sensed his recent tension and interpreted it as residual resentment toward her maternity leave. She heard about the difficulty he'd had coping in her absence, and she'd already promised herself she wouldn't do that to him again. Reggie had her little son and there was no way she could go through it again, no matter how much she loved her sister. It had been too difficult to say good-bye to the baby she'd given birth to. And it's not like there was a baby of her own on the horizon any time soon. No, Bobby was safe; she wasn't going anywhere. All she had left to do was convince him of that. Well, she had plenty of time now to reassure him. They were going to be stuck together in a tent for a few days at least, trying to lure in an attacker. She wondered if Bobby's size would be a deterrent for the guy. Of course, his size did not intimidate her...just the opposite. Unwanted images of a forgotten dream popped into her head and she softly gasped. It suddenly dawned on her that she would be sleeping beside him for the next few nights. Suppose she said something unfortunate in her sleep. Oh, God, that would really freak him out. What the hell was she going to do now? Not sleep? That was a more attractive option than the alternative of calling out his name from the middle of an erotic dream...not to mention the disturbing fact that she even had those dreams about him. And spending a casual day with him was guaranteed to fuel exactly that sort of dream. Oh, lord, she was in deep trouble.
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Breakfast was ready when she came out of the bedroom dressed in hiking boots, khaki shorts and a snug blue short-sleeved shirt. He was eternally grateful that the plate he was setting on the table was almost down or he would probably have dropped it. How the hell was he going to handle being so close to her for the next several days without causing some kind of disaster at their campsite? She might get a little upset if he set something on fire.
She headed into the kitchen for fresh coffee and he watched her for as long as he possibly could without her noticing. She returned to the table and sat across from him, smiling. "French toast..." She licked her lips as she helped herself to the bread and he forgot how to think.
She continued talking in a light tone. "We'll finish eating and I'll make out a shopping list while you shower. Then we'll head to the store and be on our way. Sound like a plan?"
He managed some kind of sound that she took for assent and he recovered enough to swallow down two pieces of French toast. He spent every day in close proximity to her and he never had this kind of trouble. Okay, he couldn't always jump up from his desk right away, but he was always able to process his thoughts. He guessed that the environment of the squad room helped to keep him in check most of the time. Slowly it dawned on him that his times of greatest difficulty were when he was in a casual setting with her...or alone at home. At work he was generally okay, and that was reassuring. He glanced over at her as she slid a piece of syrup-laden toast into her mouth. It was past time for that shower.
Chapter 4: Bananas, Hot Dogs and S'Mores
Eames peeked around his arm as he arranged the frozen cold packs in the cooler. When her hand came to rest lightly against the small of his back, he closed his eyes for a second. Recovering, if one could call it that, he dropped the lid into place. "Did you finish your list?"
"All done. Are you ready to go?"
"Whenever you are."
She had come to appreciate his tendency to do things her way. Before she got to know him better, she had resented it, feeling as though he was coddling her. Once she realized that it was simply the way he was, she relaxed more in their relationship, allowing an easy friendship to develop between them. Now, she was used to getting her way with him.
She slid behind the wheel and waited for him to get into the car. "Ready to go shopping?" she asked with a smile.
He was ready to do damn near anything she wanted to do. "Ready," he conceded.
"Is everything all right, Bobby?"
"Fine. My back is just stiff, that's all."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I'll work it out putting up the tent."
She smiled at him and he melted. He returned her smile and turned to look out the window. He was doomed. There was no way he was going to survive this. No way...
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In silence he watched her make her way through the produce section of the supermarket. Tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers...now she was playing with the apples...no, please...not...ah, crap...strawberries...and bananas...He wasn't sure he could watch her eat a banana, until they stopped in the cold food section and she grabbed a few packages of hot dogs. He was going to need a damn sedative to get through a meal.
She looked at him in the cracker aisle as she placed a box of graham crackers in the cart. "You do s'mores, don't you?"
His mind had wandered off when she bent over to grab the crackers, and he faltered at her choice of words. "What?"
"S'mores...over the campfire. You know...toasting marshmallows and eating them with chocolate and graham crackers..."
"Oh...yeah...I've made s'mores."
"Where are you today? Wake up, Goren."
She continued down the aisle and turned the corner. He hesitated for a moment, then followed her. You don't want to know where I am, he mused. You'd really knock the crap out of me...
She was waiting for him with a bag of marshmallows, which she tossed to him. He amazed himself when he caught it. Maybe he was paying more attention than he realized. She grabbed two packages of Hershey bars in the next aisle and asked, "Can you make decent spaghetti over a campfire?"
"I can make anything you want over a campfire."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Fried chicken?"
"If you really want it. I'll need a cast iron skillet, though."
"We can make a quick Wal-Mart stop on the way upstate. What do you need for the chicken?"
He rattled off the list of ingredients and she was off. Fried chicken? She was easy to please. He followed her to the meat aisle where she was contemplating packages of chicken. Drumsticks, he thought. Or wings...just not...ah, no, Eames...breasts. Oh, hell.
By the time they were done with the shopping, he was almost wishing he'd waited in the car. He did not appreciate the game of association his mind was playing with the groceries. He needed another damn shower.
He paid for the groceries and packed the perishables in the cooler with the five pounds of ice he'd grabbed almost as an afterthought. His mind's game could be given credit for that. Setting the non-perishables on the floor behind the passenger seat, he returned the cart to its proper place and climbed into the car.
She turned out of the parking lot and glanced at him. "You're awfully quiet today. Is everything all right?"
"Fine." He scrambled for an acceptable excuse. "I'm just tired."
"You don't sleep that well on my couch. I don't know why you're so stubborn about it. I told you I can sleep comfortably on it. It's too small for you."
"And I told you I'm not going to chase you out of your bed."
His obstinacy was beginning to aggravate her. "Okay, fine. Next time you stay you can sleep in the bed and I won't leave."
"Wh-what?"
She laughed. He groaned to himself and turned back to the window. She wasn't funny. At all.
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It was a ten minute stop to get the skillet he needed to make her fried chicken. She insisted on coffee, and he wished he had something to put in the coffee. He wasn't settling down after her teasing comment about staying in the bed with him. At least, he hoped she was teasing. What if she had been serious? He was never going to stay at her place again, if that was the situation she was going to try to force him into.
She poked him in the side, sharply. "Ow...what?"
"I called you three times. Where is your mind?"
Someplace it never should have gone, thank you, Eames. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. You have the directions to the campground, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then. You can go back into your own world."
"Don't be annoyed. I'm sorry. You know how my mind gets."
Actually, she had no clue...at least he hoped she had no clue. She seemed to relax, accepting his reminder with a soft smile. "Yes, I know. It's always busy." She glanced at the clock. "I'll stop at a rest area about halfway there."
"Why?"
"Firstly, I'll need a bathroom break. And you'll need to burn off some of that energy. I can only take that restless fidgeting of yours for so long."
"Oh. Sorry. I...I don't realize I'm even doing it."
She gave him another reassuring smile, and her voice was gentle. "I know."
He returned her smile, appreciating her understanding, even if she didn't fully realize just how understanding she was being. He looked back out the window at the passing scenery and tried not to fidget.
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An hour later she elbowed him. "Stop it."
He tried not to blush. She can't read your mind, he assured himself. "Stop what?"
"You're trying not to fidget."
"You said it bothered you."
"It bothers me worse if you don't do it. Then I think there's something wrong."
"Make up your mind, Eames."
She sighed. "I'll stop at the next rest area."
"Good idea."
His back could use a stretch. The more he tried not to fidget, the more he wanted to move and he was both pent up and exhausted. Not to mention the fact that his wandering mind did nothing to help matters. He could use a walk.
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Eames leaned against the car, waiting. She had no idea where Goren had wandered off to, and she puzzled over his discomfort. Could he be getting tired of her? Maybe her maternity leave had given him a taste of working without her and he was realizing he preferred that. That thought did not sit well with her. She loved working with him. He made work fun, most of the time. Sometime she worried that he got too deep into the disturbed minds they dealt with, but he had never gotten to a point where she could not reach him.
His mind always had a tendency to wander, but he seemed more prone to dwell inside himself lately. And he was tense. He always dismissed her concern with a reasonable excuse, and she was satisfied for a while, but her concern always returned. She was becoming more deeply involved with her emotional response to him. Lately, a single look from him had the ability to send a wave of warmth to the deepest parts of her, and she found that she liked that he could do that. How wrong was that? She was torturing herself, but she couldn't stop it. Her body was rebelling against her better sense. Or maybe it simply knew something she was unwilling to consciously acknowledge. Could she be falling for her complicated partner? Damn—her feelings for him were as complicated as he was.
He came strolling up to the car, looking contrite. "Sorry to make you wait."
"It's all right. Are you ready to get going?"
"Yes."
They climbed into the car. "Where did you go?"
"Just for a walk."
"Feel better?"
"I...I wasn't feeling bad. Just...restless. But...yes, I'm okay now."
She glanced at him, looking away when she realized her eyes were straying over him. He did seem more relaxed. Maybe all he'd needed was to burn off some of his boundless energy. She hoped that was it.
Starting the car, she backed out of the parking space and returned to the highway. They both remained silent, lost in their own thoughts and feelings, and the miles slipped by...
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It was almost one when they pulled into the campground. He had spent the remainder of the trip trying to prepare himself for the act to come, and he found himself remorseful that it could only be an act. He did his best to chase the feeling away. Their relationship was the way it had to be. He had to be satisfied with these rare glimpses of how it could be, if fate were a kind master, which he knew from long experience it was definitely not.
She got out of the car first, twisting her body and stretching her back. He groaned softly as he folded himself out of the passenger seat and tried to work the kinks out of his own muscles. His back wasn't the only part of his body bothering him.
He followed her into the office. An older woman with graying hair and a grandmotherly air about her smiled at them. Her name tag read 'Evelyn'. "Hello. May I help you?"
"Hello, Evelyn," Eames replied. "We have reservations. Alex and Bobby Monahan."
Evelyn consulted a book in front of her. "Ah, yes. Here we are. You reserved a tent site."
She smiled. "That was his idea. I wanted to go to the Falls, but he talked me into camping."
"Vacation?"
"Honeymoon."
He slid an arm around her and gave the older woman a charming smile. "She hasn't camped much," he said easily, winking at the woman. "I promised her we wouldn't be...disturbed."
With a laugh, Evelyn looked at a chart. "I can assure you of that. Our tent campground is rather remote and we don't have many tenters this early in the season."
His fingers stroked the small patch of skin where her shirt rode up away from her shorts. She caught her breath, wondering if he was doing that intentionally. Okay, Bobby, two can play at this game, Eames decided, resting her arm along his waist. Her fingers played with his belt and he jerked, glancing down at her. She rested her head against his side and he tightened the arm that rested protectively around her. She was both disturbed and aroused by the contact, but she pressed on with the silent game.
When she pressed her hip into his thigh he almost forgot how to breathe. What is she doing? Her fingers left his belt and teased his back. He made a mental note not to tease her any more. She had more ammunition than he did and damn if she couldn't score a direct hit with no effort.
"Remote?" Eames addressed Evelyn. "Define 'remote'."
"It's well set apart from the RV portion of the campground, very wooded, secluded."
She nodded. "Sounds...interesting, but what about rest rooms? Am I going to have to hug a tree to pee?"
That was it. Game, set, match: she won. With a mumbled, "I'll wait outside," Goren pressed his lips against her head and took his leave of the office.
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He was pacing behind the car when she came out of the office. "What's the matter, honey?" she asked lightly.
He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled. She could sure be a little devil when she wanted to. She had to know what she did to him. That game in the office couldn't have been an accident. "I have a tent to pitch," he replied. "Let's get going."
She stepped up to him and slipped her arms around him. We're supposed to be in love, he reminded himself of their cover. Honeymooners.
God, he was doomed. He wanted to move away, to put a decent amount of distance between them, but his body was not listening to him. Instead, he folded his arms around her, losing himself in the scent and feel of her. When she stepped away, he came back to Earth with a mind-jarring crash. She leaned up and brushed her lips along his jaw. "Come on, baby," she said lightly, remaining in character with disturbing ease.
He watched her get into the car as he struggled to reconnect his mind with his body...which was a big mistake. Damn... And he couldn't find a single thought to draw his mind away from her. Hook, line and sinker, he mused as he slid uncomfortably into the car. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to save himself.
Eames peeked around his arm as he arranged the frozen cold packs in the cooler. When her hand came to rest lightly against the small of his back, he closed his eyes for a second. Recovering, if one could call it that, he dropped the lid into place. "Did you finish your list?"
"All done. Are you ready to go?"
"Whenever you are."
She had come to appreciate his tendency to do things her way. Before she got to know him better, she had resented it, feeling as though he was coddling her. Once she realized that it was simply the way he was, she relaxed more in their relationship, allowing an easy friendship to develop between them. Now, she was used to getting her way with him.
She slid behind the wheel and waited for him to get into the car. "Ready to go shopping?" she asked with a smile.
He was ready to do damn near anything she wanted to do. "Ready," he conceded.
"Is everything all right, Bobby?"
"Fine. My back is just stiff, that's all."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I'll work it out putting up the tent."
She smiled at him and he melted. He returned her smile and turned to look out the window. He was doomed. There was no way he was going to survive this. No way...
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In silence he watched her make her way through the produce section of the supermarket. Tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers...now she was playing with the apples...no, please...not...ah, crap...strawberries...and bananas...He wasn't sure he could watch her eat a banana, until they stopped in the cold food section and she grabbed a few packages of hot dogs. He was going to need a damn sedative to get through a meal.
She looked at him in the cracker aisle as she placed a box of graham crackers in the cart. "You do s'mores, don't you?"
His mind had wandered off when she bent over to grab the crackers, and he faltered at her choice of words. "What?"
"S'mores...over the campfire. You know...toasting marshmallows and eating them with chocolate and graham crackers..."
"Oh...yeah...I've made s'mores."
"Where are you today? Wake up, Goren."
She continued down the aisle and turned the corner. He hesitated for a moment, then followed her. You don't want to know where I am, he mused. You'd really knock the crap out of me...
She was waiting for him with a bag of marshmallows, which she tossed to him. He amazed himself when he caught it. Maybe he was paying more attention than he realized. She grabbed two packages of Hershey bars in the next aisle and asked, "Can you make decent spaghetti over a campfire?"
"I can make anything you want over a campfire."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Fried chicken?"
"If you really want it. I'll need a cast iron skillet, though."
"We can make a quick Wal-Mart stop on the way upstate. What do you need for the chicken?"
He rattled off the list of ingredients and she was off. Fried chicken? She was easy to please. He followed her to the meat aisle where she was contemplating packages of chicken. Drumsticks, he thought. Or wings...just not...ah, no, Eames...breasts. Oh, hell.
By the time they were done with the shopping, he was almost wishing he'd waited in the car. He did not appreciate the game of association his mind was playing with the groceries. He needed another damn shower.
He paid for the groceries and packed the perishables in the cooler with the five pounds of ice he'd grabbed almost as an afterthought. His mind's game could be given credit for that. Setting the non-perishables on the floor behind the passenger seat, he returned the cart to its proper place and climbed into the car.
She turned out of the parking lot and glanced at him. "You're awfully quiet today. Is everything all right?"
"Fine." He scrambled for an acceptable excuse. "I'm just tired."
"You don't sleep that well on my couch. I don't know why you're so stubborn about it. I told you I can sleep comfortably on it. It's too small for you."
"And I told you I'm not going to chase you out of your bed."
His obstinacy was beginning to aggravate her. "Okay, fine. Next time you stay you can sleep in the bed and I won't leave."
"Wh-what?"
She laughed. He groaned to himself and turned back to the window. She wasn't funny. At all.
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It was a ten minute stop to get the skillet he needed to make her fried chicken. She insisted on coffee, and he wished he had something to put in the coffee. He wasn't settling down after her teasing comment about staying in the bed with him. At least, he hoped she was teasing. What if she had been serious? He was never going to stay at her place again, if that was the situation she was going to try to force him into.
She poked him in the side, sharply. "Ow...what?"
"I called you three times. Where is your mind?"
Someplace it never should have gone, thank you, Eames. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. You have the directions to the campground, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then. You can go back into your own world."
"Don't be annoyed. I'm sorry. You know how my mind gets."
Actually, she had no clue...at least he hoped she had no clue. She seemed to relax, accepting his reminder with a soft smile. "Yes, I know. It's always busy." She glanced at the clock. "I'll stop at a rest area about halfway there."
"Why?"
"Firstly, I'll need a bathroom break. And you'll need to burn off some of that energy. I can only take that restless fidgeting of yours for so long."
"Oh. Sorry. I...I don't realize I'm even doing it."
She gave him another reassuring smile, and her voice was gentle. "I know."
He returned her smile, appreciating her understanding, even if she didn't fully realize just how understanding she was being. He looked back out the window at the passing scenery and tried not to fidget.
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An hour later she elbowed him. "Stop it."
He tried not to blush. She can't read your mind, he assured himself. "Stop what?"
"You're trying not to fidget."
"You said it bothered you."
"It bothers me worse if you don't do it. Then I think there's something wrong."
"Make up your mind, Eames."
She sighed. "I'll stop at the next rest area."
"Good idea."
His back could use a stretch. The more he tried not to fidget, the more he wanted to move and he was both pent up and exhausted. Not to mention the fact that his wandering mind did nothing to help matters. He could use a walk.
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Eames leaned against the car, waiting. She had no idea where Goren had wandered off to, and she puzzled over his discomfort. Could he be getting tired of her? Maybe her maternity leave had given him a taste of working without her and he was realizing he preferred that. That thought did not sit well with her. She loved working with him. He made work fun, most of the time. Sometime she worried that he got too deep into the disturbed minds they dealt with, but he had never gotten to a point where she could not reach him.
His mind always had a tendency to wander, but he seemed more prone to dwell inside himself lately. And he was tense. He always dismissed her concern with a reasonable excuse, and she was satisfied for a while, but her concern always returned. She was becoming more deeply involved with her emotional response to him. Lately, a single look from him had the ability to send a wave of warmth to the deepest parts of her, and she found that she liked that he could do that. How wrong was that? She was torturing herself, but she couldn't stop it. Her body was rebelling against her better sense. Or maybe it simply knew something she was unwilling to consciously acknowledge. Could she be falling for her complicated partner? Damn—her feelings for him were as complicated as he was.
He came strolling up to the car, looking contrite. "Sorry to make you wait."
"It's all right. Are you ready to get going?"
"Yes."
They climbed into the car. "Where did you go?"
"Just for a walk."
"Feel better?"
"I...I wasn't feeling bad. Just...restless. But...yes, I'm okay now."
She glanced at him, looking away when she realized her eyes were straying over him. He did seem more relaxed. Maybe all he'd needed was to burn off some of his boundless energy. She hoped that was it.
Starting the car, she backed out of the parking space and returned to the highway. They both remained silent, lost in their own thoughts and feelings, and the miles slipped by...
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It was almost one when they pulled into the campground. He had spent the remainder of the trip trying to prepare himself for the act to come, and he found himself remorseful that it could only be an act. He did his best to chase the feeling away. Their relationship was the way it had to be. He had to be satisfied with these rare glimpses of how it could be, if fate were a kind master, which he knew from long experience it was definitely not.
She got out of the car first, twisting her body and stretching her back. He groaned softly as he folded himself out of the passenger seat and tried to work the kinks out of his own muscles. His back wasn't the only part of his body bothering him.
He followed her into the office. An older woman with graying hair and a grandmotherly air about her smiled at them. Her name tag read 'Evelyn'. "Hello. May I help you?"
"Hello, Evelyn," Eames replied. "We have reservations. Alex and Bobby Monahan."
Evelyn consulted a book in front of her. "Ah, yes. Here we are. You reserved a tent site."
She smiled. "That was his idea. I wanted to go to the Falls, but he talked me into camping."
"Vacation?"
"Honeymoon."
He slid an arm around her and gave the older woman a charming smile. "She hasn't camped much," he said easily, winking at the woman. "I promised her we wouldn't be...disturbed."
With a laugh, Evelyn looked at a chart. "I can assure you of that. Our tent campground is rather remote and we don't have many tenters this early in the season."
His fingers stroked the small patch of skin where her shirt rode up away from her shorts. She caught her breath, wondering if he was doing that intentionally. Okay, Bobby, two can play at this game, Eames decided, resting her arm along his waist. Her fingers played with his belt and he jerked, glancing down at her. She rested her head against his side and he tightened the arm that rested protectively around her. She was both disturbed and aroused by the contact, but she pressed on with the silent game.
When she pressed her hip into his thigh he almost forgot how to breathe. What is she doing? Her fingers left his belt and teased his back. He made a mental note not to tease her any more. She had more ammunition than he did and damn if she couldn't score a direct hit with no effort.
"Remote?" Eames addressed Evelyn. "Define 'remote'."
"It's well set apart from the RV portion of the campground, very wooded, secluded."
She nodded. "Sounds...interesting, but what about rest rooms? Am I going to have to hug a tree to pee?"
That was it. Game, set, match: she won. With a mumbled, "I'll wait outside," Goren pressed his lips against her head and took his leave of the office.
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He was pacing behind the car when she came out of the office. "What's the matter, honey?" she asked lightly.
He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled. She could sure be a little devil when she wanted to. She had to know what she did to him. That game in the office couldn't have been an accident. "I have a tent to pitch," he replied. "Let's get going."
She stepped up to him and slipped her arms around him. We're supposed to be in love, he reminded himself of their cover. Honeymooners.
God, he was doomed. He wanted to move away, to put a decent amount of distance between them, but his body was not listening to him. Instead, he folded his arms around her, losing himself in the scent and feel of her. When she stepped away, he came back to Earth with a mind-jarring crash. She leaned up and brushed her lips along his jaw. "Come on, baby," she said lightly, remaining in character with disturbing ease.
He watched her get into the car as he struggled to reconnect his mind with his body...which was a big mistake. Damn... And he couldn't find a single thought to draw his mind away from her. Hook, line and sinker, he mused as he slid uncomfortably into the car. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to save himself.
Chapter 5: Dangerous Tangents
Eames helped him unload the car and spread out the tarp where the tent was going to be erected. He couldn't stop himself from taking every opportunity to watch her, something he wished really was part of the act she interpreted it to be. But it wasn't. And when she took the opportunity to play along, giving him a smile or a sexy wiggle, he damn near lost his mind. His traitorous body was miles ahead of his mind; he'd lost control of it long ago.
Finally he found himself able to focus on spreading out the tent, successfully laying out the tent poles in their proper places. He always liked doing things with his hands. Now...he needed the tent stakes and a mallet. He headed to the back of the SUV to get them.
Sitting on a log near the fire ring, Eames watched him walk away from the flattened tent toward the car. She loved the easy sway of his hips, the understated aura of...sexy...that he exuded. She was almost regretting her game in the office. It was fun--playing couple with Bobby was always fun--but there was something different about this time, and she didn't understand what. All she knew was that they were both on edge in a way they never had been before. Before, couple play was always a great game. Now, the fun was tainted by an undercurrent of tension she was unsure about. It wasn't a negative tension, but it was tension just the same. But even more than the tension...once she had been certain about her relationship with her partner. She knew how she felt about him and she was pretty sure how he felt about her. But that was no longer the case, and she had no clue when she'd lost track of either.
He headed back to the tent with the stakes, stopping near her and looking down at her with a warm smile she found almost irresistible. If he was another man and she felt this way, she had a feeling she would be all over him. Even now, it was a struggle she did not understand to keep her reactions hidden from him. She could not imagine what he would do if she sidled up to him and suggested what her mind was thinking. Hey, Bobby...finish with the tent and let's break it in... Oh, yeah...that would go over big...he'd have a nervous breakdown...
"Are you okay, Eames?"
That was a matter of opinion. Was it okay for her to want to jump her partner in the middle of a campground in broad daylight? She managed to return a smile. "I'm fine. Want some help with the stakes?"
An image of her bending over to drive stakes into the ground filled his mind and it was an effort not to physically react to it. "Uh, I..." He paused for a moment, waging a silent battle in his mind. She's your partner...she's a woman, and a damn sexy one at that...but she's your partner...what harm can it do just to watch?
Yeah...what harm...? "Sure, Eames." He held out the mallet. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
"What? Put up a tent or hammer in stakes?"
"Either."
She got to her feet and took the mallet and bag of stakes from him. "I know how to drive in a stake, Goren," she said with a grin, heading for the tent.
It won't hurt to watch...says who? He groaned softly before going to the car for another mallet and joining her at the tent. She was already bent over the canvas, hammering in a stake. He tipped his head, taking in the more rounded curve of her ass. It caused him a moment of consternation that he even noticed how much more rounded her curves had become since the pregnancy. Had he really noticed them before? Of course he had...what the hell was wrong with him?
She pulled a stake from the bag. "Here you go, Bobby."
He caught it when she tossed it to him and forced himself to the other side of the tent. Taking a moment longer to watch her finish her hammering, he dropped to his knees and set the stake against the ground.
Eames finished driving her last stake into the ground and got to her feet. Stretching her back to work out a kink that settled into it from bending over the ground, she made a noise that penetrated him to the core, drawing his attention from the stake he was driving into the ground. When she arched her back, her shirt snugged over her breasts and slid up to reveal her navel. His mind totally short circuited and the mallet came crashing down onto his hand. He swore, dropping the tool and drawing his mind back to earth in a flash of pain. He pulled his hand against his torso. "Damn!"
She came around the tent and took his hand in hers. "What happened?"
"I...m-missed the stake," he muttered, his mind struggling to grasp the words he needed. When did talking become so difficult? He was good with words...so where did they go? As she stroked his hand and searched for signs of a real injury, the thoughts left his mind as well, and all that was left was the sensation of her hand skimming across his.
She looked up. "I think you're all right," she said, not releasing his hand.
That's a matter of perspective, his rational mind broke through. His emotional mind shushed it as his eyes met hers and he lost the will to move. She was in a similar state, locked into his intense gaze and reluctant to withdraw.
"Hey, kids!"
A man's voice drew their attention from one another and the moment passed unresolved. An old gunmetal gray pickup truck came to a halt and an older gentleman climbed out. He smiled a friendly smile. "Name's Carl. You kids want some firewood?"
Goren crossed the campsite to the pickup and shook Carl's hand, introducing himself and Eames. Carl's smile broadened at the sight of the single tent. "You looking for fun?" he said softly.
Goren grinned at the sotto voce tone. "Always. That's why I married her."
"Ah...been married long?"
"A week."
"Newlyweds...congrats, kid." He leaned closer. "That one's a real prize."
Goren looked toward her. "I know," he answered.
"Well, here..." Carl went to the back of the truck and heaved out two bundles of firewood, tossing them toward the campsite. "Enjoy your campfire," he said with a wink. Waving a hand at Eames, he said, "Have a good time!"
Climbing back into the pickup, he drove off. Eames watched Goren return to the tent. "What was all the whispering about?"
"Uh, guy stuff."
"Guy stuff?"
He smirked as he picked up his mallet and finished driving in the last stake. When he stood up and turned, he walked right into her. "What guy stuff?" she insisted.
"Does it matter?"
"You tell me."
"I just let him know we were newlyweds, that's all. He said you were...attractive. I just agreed."
She studied his face. "You think I'm attractive?"
"I'm your partner. I'm not blind," he murmured, moving past her to retrieve her mallet so he could put them both in the car.
She watched him walk to the car. How true was that? Being partners didn't blind her to the fact that he was hot, either. They were well suited as partners in every way; they complemented each other well. But how would they be as...lovers? Oh, God...where did that come from? Sharing a bed with Bobby, and doing more than sleeping? Damn. Now she was in trouble. Her mind was off on a dangerous tangent, and there was no chance of getting it back. And there he was, heading back toward her from the car...
He frowned as he approached. She had an odd look on her face. He turned to look at the car, but saw nothing out of place, so he looked down at his clothes. No, his fly was up, and nothing seemed out of place there either. "Something wrong?"
"What? Oh, no...nothing's wrong. Let's finish getting the tent up." When he seemed to falter, she frowned. "What's the matter? Don't you want help?"
He didn't know how to respond because he couldn't figure out why she was suddenly annoyed. Finally, he found his voice. "Uh, if you want to help, that's fine."
Realizing belatedly that she'd snapped and made him uncomfortable, she stepped up to him and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."
She heard the pickup approach before she saw it come around the bend. She wondered why Carl would choose to return and she watched the gray pickup come down the road toward them. When Goren made a move to turn and look, she put a hand on his cheek to keep him from looking away. A split second before she pressed her lips onto his, she realized it wasn't Carl...but whoever it was...he was leering at them as he continued past the campsite.
When the truck was gone, she stepped away from her partner and trotted to the road, looking after the truck in time to see it make a right turn, away from the office and the RV part of the campground. Maybe they needed to go for a walk after the tent was up.
He heard the truck and began turning to take a look when he suddenly found her hand on his cheek and her mouth pressed against his. His hand automatically settled on her waist and he struggled not to give himself over to the kiss. When her lips parted against his, it took more will than he realized he had not to let his tongue slide past them. Flames heated his body...and then she was gone, moving quickly toward the road and leaving him floundering. What the hell was that...and how do I get her to do it again? You don't, stupid...it's a damn act...
He was still arguing with himself when she came back from the road. "Let's get this tent up, Bobby. We need to go for a walk."
A walk? A cold swim would do him better... "Y-yeah...okay, Eames..."
Another moment passed before he could move and, as he put his effort into getting the tent up and securing it, his body began to settle. He felt much calmer by the time the tent was fully up, but if she kissed him again before he had a chance to completely settle down, he wasn't certain he'd be responsible for his reaction, and that would be a disaster. All he could do was hope that she wouldn't...while the rest of him prayed that she would...
To hell in a handbasket...that was exactly where he was headed, at full speed...and it sure was going to hurt when he landed...
Eames helped him unload the car and spread out the tarp where the tent was going to be erected. He couldn't stop himself from taking every opportunity to watch her, something he wished really was part of the act she interpreted it to be. But it wasn't. And when she took the opportunity to play along, giving him a smile or a sexy wiggle, he damn near lost his mind. His traitorous body was miles ahead of his mind; he'd lost control of it long ago.
Finally he found himself able to focus on spreading out the tent, successfully laying out the tent poles in their proper places. He always liked doing things with his hands. Now...he needed the tent stakes and a mallet. He headed to the back of the SUV to get them.
Sitting on a log near the fire ring, Eames watched him walk away from the flattened tent toward the car. She loved the easy sway of his hips, the understated aura of...sexy...that he exuded. She was almost regretting her game in the office. It was fun--playing couple with Bobby was always fun--but there was something different about this time, and she didn't understand what. All she knew was that they were both on edge in a way they never had been before. Before, couple play was always a great game. Now, the fun was tainted by an undercurrent of tension she was unsure about. It wasn't a negative tension, but it was tension just the same. But even more than the tension...once she had been certain about her relationship with her partner. She knew how she felt about him and she was pretty sure how he felt about her. But that was no longer the case, and she had no clue when she'd lost track of either.
He headed back to the tent with the stakes, stopping near her and looking down at her with a warm smile she found almost irresistible. If he was another man and she felt this way, she had a feeling she would be all over him. Even now, it was a struggle she did not understand to keep her reactions hidden from him. She could not imagine what he would do if she sidled up to him and suggested what her mind was thinking. Hey, Bobby...finish with the tent and let's break it in... Oh, yeah...that would go over big...he'd have a nervous breakdown...
"Are you okay, Eames?"
That was a matter of opinion. Was it okay for her to want to jump her partner in the middle of a campground in broad daylight? She managed to return a smile. "I'm fine. Want some help with the stakes?"
An image of her bending over to drive stakes into the ground filled his mind and it was an effort not to physically react to it. "Uh, I..." He paused for a moment, waging a silent battle in his mind. She's your partner...she's a woman, and a damn sexy one at that...but she's your partner...what harm can it do just to watch?
Yeah...what harm...? "Sure, Eames." He held out the mallet. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
"What? Put up a tent or hammer in stakes?"
"Either."
She got to her feet and took the mallet and bag of stakes from him. "I know how to drive in a stake, Goren," she said with a grin, heading for the tent.
It won't hurt to watch...says who? He groaned softly before going to the car for another mallet and joining her at the tent. She was already bent over the canvas, hammering in a stake. He tipped his head, taking in the more rounded curve of her ass. It caused him a moment of consternation that he even noticed how much more rounded her curves had become since the pregnancy. Had he really noticed them before? Of course he had...what the hell was wrong with him?
She pulled a stake from the bag. "Here you go, Bobby."
He caught it when she tossed it to him and forced himself to the other side of the tent. Taking a moment longer to watch her finish her hammering, he dropped to his knees and set the stake against the ground.
Eames finished driving her last stake into the ground and got to her feet. Stretching her back to work out a kink that settled into it from bending over the ground, she made a noise that penetrated him to the core, drawing his attention from the stake he was driving into the ground. When she arched her back, her shirt snugged over her breasts and slid up to reveal her navel. His mind totally short circuited and the mallet came crashing down onto his hand. He swore, dropping the tool and drawing his mind back to earth in a flash of pain. He pulled his hand against his torso. "Damn!"
She came around the tent and took his hand in hers. "What happened?"
"I...m-missed the stake," he muttered, his mind struggling to grasp the words he needed. When did talking become so difficult? He was good with words...so where did they go? As she stroked his hand and searched for signs of a real injury, the thoughts left his mind as well, and all that was left was the sensation of her hand skimming across his.
She looked up. "I think you're all right," she said, not releasing his hand.
That's a matter of perspective, his rational mind broke through. His emotional mind shushed it as his eyes met hers and he lost the will to move. She was in a similar state, locked into his intense gaze and reluctant to withdraw.
"Hey, kids!"
A man's voice drew their attention from one another and the moment passed unresolved. An old gunmetal gray pickup truck came to a halt and an older gentleman climbed out. He smiled a friendly smile. "Name's Carl. You kids want some firewood?"
Goren crossed the campsite to the pickup and shook Carl's hand, introducing himself and Eames. Carl's smile broadened at the sight of the single tent. "You looking for fun?" he said softly.
Goren grinned at the sotto voce tone. "Always. That's why I married her."
"Ah...been married long?"
"A week."
"Newlyweds...congrats, kid." He leaned closer. "That one's a real prize."
Goren looked toward her. "I know," he answered.
"Well, here..." Carl went to the back of the truck and heaved out two bundles of firewood, tossing them toward the campsite. "Enjoy your campfire," he said with a wink. Waving a hand at Eames, he said, "Have a good time!"
Climbing back into the pickup, he drove off. Eames watched Goren return to the tent. "What was all the whispering about?"
"Uh, guy stuff."
"Guy stuff?"
He smirked as he picked up his mallet and finished driving in the last stake. When he stood up and turned, he walked right into her. "What guy stuff?" she insisted.
"Does it matter?"
"You tell me."
"I just let him know we were newlyweds, that's all. He said you were...attractive. I just agreed."
She studied his face. "You think I'm attractive?"
"I'm your partner. I'm not blind," he murmured, moving past her to retrieve her mallet so he could put them both in the car.
She watched him walk to the car. How true was that? Being partners didn't blind her to the fact that he was hot, either. They were well suited as partners in every way; they complemented each other well. But how would they be as...lovers? Oh, God...where did that come from? Sharing a bed with Bobby, and doing more than sleeping? Damn. Now she was in trouble. Her mind was off on a dangerous tangent, and there was no chance of getting it back. And there he was, heading back toward her from the car...
He frowned as he approached. She had an odd look on her face. He turned to look at the car, but saw nothing out of place, so he looked down at his clothes. No, his fly was up, and nothing seemed out of place there either. "Something wrong?"
"What? Oh, no...nothing's wrong. Let's finish getting the tent up." When he seemed to falter, she frowned. "What's the matter? Don't you want help?"
He didn't know how to respond because he couldn't figure out why she was suddenly annoyed. Finally, he found his voice. "Uh, if you want to help, that's fine."
Realizing belatedly that she'd snapped and made him uncomfortable, she stepped up to him and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."
She heard the pickup approach before she saw it come around the bend. She wondered why Carl would choose to return and she watched the gray pickup come down the road toward them. When Goren made a move to turn and look, she put a hand on his cheek to keep him from looking away. A split second before she pressed her lips onto his, she realized it wasn't Carl...but whoever it was...he was leering at them as he continued past the campsite.
When the truck was gone, she stepped away from her partner and trotted to the road, looking after the truck in time to see it make a right turn, away from the office and the RV part of the campground. Maybe they needed to go for a walk after the tent was up.
He heard the truck and began turning to take a look when he suddenly found her hand on his cheek and her mouth pressed against his. His hand automatically settled on her waist and he struggled not to give himself over to the kiss. When her lips parted against his, it took more will than he realized he had not to let his tongue slide past them. Flames heated his body...and then she was gone, moving quickly toward the road and leaving him floundering. What the hell was that...and how do I get her to do it again? You don't, stupid...it's a damn act...
He was still arguing with himself when she came back from the road. "Let's get this tent up, Bobby. We need to go for a walk."
A walk? A cold swim would do him better... "Y-yeah...okay, Eames..."
Another moment passed before he could move and, as he put his effort into getting the tent up and securing it, his body began to settle. He felt much calmer by the time the tent was fully up, but if she kissed him again before he had a chance to completely settle down, he wasn't certain he'd be responsible for his reaction, and that would be a disaster. All he could do was hope that she wouldn't...while the rest of him prayed that she would...
To hell in a handbasket...that was exactly where he was headed, at full speed...and it sure was going to hurt when he landed...
Chapter 6: It's Part of the Act
The chirping of the birds was calming as they walked down the road away from their campsite, her hand tucked firmly into his. He relished the contact, wishing he was free to hold her hand whenever he wanted to. You'd never turn her loose, his mind accused.
Shut up, he snapped at himself. He was telling more than half his mind to do that way too often lately.
She talked lightly about their surroundings, acting just like the bright, excited newlywed she was supposed to be. He couldn't keep a small smile of amusement and affection from his face. And her laughter made his entire situation so much worse. He could listen to her laugh for the rest of his life and never tire of the sound. She's beautiful...but she's not yours...she could be...shut up.
When she rested her head against his arm, he felt an electric charge surge through his body, settling deep in his abdomen, stirring things she, by rights, was not supposed to stir. He wasn't supposed to be fighting himself like this. She was his partner. She was actually touching safe areas of his body. It was his body and his renegade mind that was turning that touch into more than it was.
But he didn't stop her, in spite of the fact that an ever-decreasing part of his brain told him that he should. This is just part of the act, part of him rationalized.
Like hell it is, countered another. You're loving the crap out of this...So where's the harm in that? I'm not sleeping with her...Yet...Shut the hell up.
Great...he was still arguing with himself...and getting nowhere but into more trouble. Her fingers brushed the inside of his arm, and he could not decide if she did it intentionally. When she did it again, he knew it was intentional...and he no longer cared. As she continued to stroke his arm and talk to him, he lost the ability to interpret her words because all his mind would focus on was the trail her fingers were making up and down his arm. And the heat that settled in his gut grew exponentially with every tender caress.
When she stopped and slid her hand into her pocket, turning her attention to the campsites they were approaching, his mind tripped over itself...and his body almost followed suit. She stopped walking. "Is something wrong, Bobby?"
The only course of action his mind would agree on was retreat, and it was a heated battle to win that one. "Um, i-if you want that chicken...I, uh, I need to get busy with it."
"It doesn't take long for breasts to cook, does it?"
His mind took another nosedive and he was convinced he would not survive till bedtime. Bedtime...oh, hell...he'd successfully shut that out of his now racing mind. He was doomed. All he could do was shake his head. "Good," she damn near purred, sliding her arm back through his. "We can finish our walk."
Finish...yeah, that was what she was going to do. Finish him.
As they walked past the only occupied campsite in the area, he stopped, staring at the gray pickup parked beside a single-person puptent. It was very similar to the truck Carl was driving when he dropped off the firewood. But Carl drove a Chevy and this was a Ford. It was two years older, but close in color and size. Eames watched as he studied the truck, then looked at her, a puzzled look on his face.
Grasping his hand more firmly, she led him past the campsite before anyone noticed them. Once they were well out of earshot, she said, "He drove past our campsite not long after Carl did."
"How did I miss that?"
"You were a little preoccupied."
"With?"
"Me."
His brain disengaged again. He opened his mouth to say something, to defend himself at the very least, but the words got lost between his intention to say them and his mouth. He felt betrayed. He was becoming accustomed to the betrayal of his body, but his mind was always something he could depend on, until recently. What was happening to him? He managed to stammer a few syllables, and she laughed. "Relax," she soothed, squeezing his arm affectionately. "You were being an attentive husband."
He didn't appreciate being teased, but any annoyance that began to rise within him faded quickly with the feather light touch of her finger down the side of his face. She headed down the dirt road and, after an uncomfortable moment with himself, he followed her, catching up with a few long strides.
"We-we're supposed to be newlyweds..."
"I know. You're doing a great job. Keep it up."
Oh, it's up all right...that's the problem... He sighed and talked himself into taking her hand again, which didn't take much convincing. He moved another step closer to trouble by raising that hand to his lips and kissing it, rapidly losing his grip on what little sense he had left. When a light flush colored her cheeks, he was charmed. For that moment, a moment he wished would last forever, he was content, and he mourned its passing. He was one moment closer to bedtime...maybe sleeping outside the tent wasn't such a bad idea after all...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boneless chicken breasts didn't take terribly long to cook, and dinner was over before he was ready for it to be. When she retrieved the marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers he was uncertain. She smiled at him. "Bobby, would you mind getting us a pair of nice green sticks?"
Green sticks...he could handle that request with ease. "Sure."
He headed into the woods with the flashlight to find her sticks, his mind again wandering when it decided it was not required for the task of cutting a few sticks. But when he heard movement deeper in the trees, the wandering ceased and his mind came into clear focus as the flashlight beam scanned the nearby trees. His eyes caught a glimpse of color that did not belong in the woods but he didn't pause to examine it or head over to investigate. He knew.
Finishing his task, he headed back to the campsite, his active mind now jumping precariously between two unfortunately related lines of thought. This was the reason they were here, to draw this guy out and get him to make a move against them. But in order to do that, they had to be convincing. They had to make this guy believe they were newly married lovers.
He returned to the glow ring of the campfire and leaned over her as he handed her the sticks. "We're being watched," he whispered into her ear.
"Are you sure?" He gave her a look and she held up her hands. "Okay, so we're being watched. Now what?"
"We convince him we're what he's looking for."
"Another couple to attack."
"Right."
"Okay, sweetheart," she replied with a sweet smile as she lightly kissed him. Sleeping outside the tent was no longer an option for him. He was doomed.
Easing himself down onto the log beside her, he watched as she pulled two marshmallows from the bag and speared them onto the sticks he'd shaved and sharpened. Handing one to him, she stuck hers into the fire. When her marshmallow ignited, she laughed, leaning back to draw it close and blow it out. Setting the partially melted, sticky mess on the rest of her assembled sandwich of chocolate and graham cracker, she used the crackers to grip it and pull it off the stick. Leaning the stick against the log, sticky end up, she took a bite of the s'more. He continued to watch her, unable to muster enough brain power to even toast a marshmallow. He saw a sweet tongue slip out to lick marshmallow from her lips, and he closed his eyes. That didn't help. It made matters worse, in fact.
He felt her lean closer, felt her fingers caress his lips and slip a bite of her dessert treat into his mouth. He opened his eyes part way to find her leaning toward him, firelight reflected in her eyes, making them glow golden, like her hair. It's part of the act, he struggled to convince himself as he leaned in to kiss her. It's part of the act, he reiterated as he tasted marshmallow on her lips and she slid her arms around his neck, returning the kiss. It's part of the act...his hands settled on her waist and he held her firmly. Part of the friggin' act...the voice was fading as he lost control of the kiss and his tongue slipped past those sweet-coated lips. What act? The renegade part of his brain asked. Shut the hell up...
The chirping of the birds was calming as they walked down the road away from their campsite, her hand tucked firmly into his. He relished the contact, wishing he was free to hold her hand whenever he wanted to. You'd never turn her loose, his mind accused.
Shut up, he snapped at himself. He was telling more than half his mind to do that way too often lately.
She talked lightly about their surroundings, acting just like the bright, excited newlywed she was supposed to be. He couldn't keep a small smile of amusement and affection from his face. And her laughter made his entire situation so much worse. He could listen to her laugh for the rest of his life and never tire of the sound. She's beautiful...but she's not yours...she could be...shut up.
When she rested her head against his arm, he felt an electric charge surge through his body, settling deep in his abdomen, stirring things she, by rights, was not supposed to stir. He wasn't supposed to be fighting himself like this. She was his partner. She was actually touching safe areas of his body. It was his body and his renegade mind that was turning that touch into more than it was.
But he didn't stop her, in spite of the fact that an ever-decreasing part of his brain told him that he should. This is just part of the act, part of him rationalized.
Like hell it is, countered another. You're loving the crap out of this...So where's the harm in that? I'm not sleeping with her...Yet...Shut the hell up.
Great...he was still arguing with himself...and getting nowhere but into more trouble. Her fingers brushed the inside of his arm, and he could not decide if she did it intentionally. When she did it again, he knew it was intentional...and he no longer cared. As she continued to stroke his arm and talk to him, he lost the ability to interpret her words because all his mind would focus on was the trail her fingers were making up and down his arm. And the heat that settled in his gut grew exponentially with every tender caress.
When she stopped and slid her hand into her pocket, turning her attention to the campsites they were approaching, his mind tripped over itself...and his body almost followed suit. She stopped walking. "Is something wrong, Bobby?"
The only course of action his mind would agree on was retreat, and it was a heated battle to win that one. "Um, i-if you want that chicken...I, uh, I need to get busy with it."
"It doesn't take long for breasts to cook, does it?"
His mind took another nosedive and he was convinced he would not survive till bedtime. Bedtime...oh, hell...he'd successfully shut that out of his now racing mind. He was doomed. All he could do was shake his head. "Good," she damn near purred, sliding her arm back through his. "We can finish our walk."
Finish...yeah, that was what she was going to do. Finish him.
As they walked past the only occupied campsite in the area, he stopped, staring at the gray pickup parked beside a single-person puptent. It was very similar to the truck Carl was driving when he dropped off the firewood. But Carl drove a Chevy and this was a Ford. It was two years older, but close in color and size. Eames watched as he studied the truck, then looked at her, a puzzled look on his face.
Grasping his hand more firmly, she led him past the campsite before anyone noticed them. Once they were well out of earshot, she said, "He drove past our campsite not long after Carl did."
"How did I miss that?"
"You were a little preoccupied."
"With?"
"Me."
His brain disengaged again. He opened his mouth to say something, to defend himself at the very least, but the words got lost between his intention to say them and his mouth. He felt betrayed. He was becoming accustomed to the betrayal of his body, but his mind was always something he could depend on, until recently. What was happening to him? He managed to stammer a few syllables, and she laughed. "Relax," she soothed, squeezing his arm affectionately. "You were being an attentive husband."
He didn't appreciate being teased, but any annoyance that began to rise within him faded quickly with the feather light touch of her finger down the side of his face. She headed down the dirt road and, after an uncomfortable moment with himself, he followed her, catching up with a few long strides.
"We-we're supposed to be newlyweds..."
"I know. You're doing a great job. Keep it up."
Oh, it's up all right...that's the problem... He sighed and talked himself into taking her hand again, which didn't take much convincing. He moved another step closer to trouble by raising that hand to his lips and kissing it, rapidly losing his grip on what little sense he had left. When a light flush colored her cheeks, he was charmed. For that moment, a moment he wished would last forever, he was content, and he mourned its passing. He was one moment closer to bedtime...maybe sleeping outside the tent wasn't such a bad idea after all...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boneless chicken breasts didn't take terribly long to cook, and dinner was over before he was ready for it to be. When she retrieved the marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers he was uncertain. She smiled at him. "Bobby, would you mind getting us a pair of nice green sticks?"
Green sticks...he could handle that request with ease. "Sure."
He headed into the woods with the flashlight to find her sticks, his mind again wandering when it decided it was not required for the task of cutting a few sticks. But when he heard movement deeper in the trees, the wandering ceased and his mind came into clear focus as the flashlight beam scanned the nearby trees. His eyes caught a glimpse of color that did not belong in the woods but he didn't pause to examine it or head over to investigate. He knew.
Finishing his task, he headed back to the campsite, his active mind now jumping precariously between two unfortunately related lines of thought. This was the reason they were here, to draw this guy out and get him to make a move against them. But in order to do that, they had to be convincing. They had to make this guy believe they were newly married lovers.
He returned to the glow ring of the campfire and leaned over her as he handed her the sticks. "We're being watched," he whispered into her ear.
"Are you sure?" He gave her a look and she held up her hands. "Okay, so we're being watched. Now what?"
"We convince him we're what he's looking for."
"Another couple to attack."
"Right."
"Okay, sweetheart," she replied with a sweet smile as she lightly kissed him. Sleeping outside the tent was no longer an option for him. He was doomed.
Easing himself down onto the log beside her, he watched as she pulled two marshmallows from the bag and speared them onto the sticks he'd shaved and sharpened. Handing one to him, she stuck hers into the fire. When her marshmallow ignited, she laughed, leaning back to draw it close and blow it out. Setting the partially melted, sticky mess on the rest of her assembled sandwich of chocolate and graham cracker, she used the crackers to grip it and pull it off the stick. Leaning the stick against the log, sticky end up, she took a bite of the s'more. He continued to watch her, unable to muster enough brain power to even toast a marshmallow. He saw a sweet tongue slip out to lick marshmallow from her lips, and he closed his eyes. That didn't help. It made matters worse, in fact.
He felt her lean closer, felt her fingers caress his lips and slip a bite of her dessert treat into his mouth. He opened his eyes part way to find her leaning toward him, firelight reflected in her eyes, making them glow golden, like her hair. It's part of the act, he struggled to convince himself as he leaned in to kiss her. It's part of the act, he reiterated as he tasted marshmallow on her lips and she slid her arms around his neck, returning the kiss. It's part of the act...his hands settled on her waist and he held her firmly. Part of the friggin' act...the voice was fading as he lost control of the kiss and his tongue slipped past those sweet-coated lips. What act? The renegade part of his brain asked. Shut the hell up...
Chapter 7: More Trouble
He banked the fire, taking his time. In time, he knew, his body would settle enough for him to sleep, but there was no telling how long it would take. He was in for a rough night. If he was home, a cold shower would do him a world of good. Under different circumstances, a long walk would burn some of his energy and that would help, too, but he was not about to leave her alone at the campsite. It was about backing her up, not about protecting her, though he would do that in a heartbeat. He knew from experience that she could take care of herself, and he often pitied the people who crossed her. He made up his mind during the first year of their partnership never to put himself in that predicament. She could drop a guy like a rock.
As she came out of the tent, she hesitated for a long moment, watching him work over the dying fire. She studied his broad, strong back, his dark, softly curled hair...and it took a while for her to realize just where her thoughts were. What the heck was going on with her? All right, she knew he was sexy in a raw, powerful yet understated way. She'd seen the looks women gave him--and not just women who knew him. And the looks she got were full of envy. She got a disturbing flush of pleasure from that thought. He was hers in a way no other woman could have him. He was her partner.
When her hands came to rest on his back as he bent over the fire, she damn near dropped him onto the hot coals. He sat back, away from the fire. "Sorry," she whispered against his skin as she pressed her lips into the back of his neck.
He trembled and closed his eyes, fumbling for words. "S-sorry for what?"
"I didn't mean to startle you."
"Oh. I-I thought...you were already in bed."
"No, not yet. Are you coming?"
Not any time soon...will you just shut the hell up... He swallowed hard. "Um...I..." That sounded intelligent. Where the hell did his words vanish to? It was that light caress along the back of his neck...the fingers in his hair...oh, God...she was good...damn good...
When her fingers slid into his hair, she stopped thinking. His hair was soft, probably in need of a trimming, but she didn't care about that. One hand played with his curls while the other continued to stray across the back of his neck, and she was happily content. This is all an act, her mind suddenly interjected, taunting. For both of you. It's not real, no matter how much you want it to be. He'll never let it cross that line, and neither should you.
Recalling his kiss just a little while ago, she marveled at what a good actor he was. Anyone watching them was going to be convinced; they were doing their job. She looked up at the inky sky, searching for, but not finding, a distraction among the stars.
His mind was lost in the glowing embers, his body slowly heating up as she continued to caress him. Stop her, or you really will be in a world of hurt. Like he wasn't already...he really needed some way to relieve some of his tension, and his preferred method was inaccessible to him. He needed to take a walk, at the very least...
"Look at the stars," she whispered, her mouth much closer to his ear than he expected. "How about a walk in the starlight?"
How did she do that? Could she possibly read his mind? That thought was more than disturbing. He turned his head so he could see her face. She is so damn beautiful... He was getting tired of these tangents his mind kept taking off on. He really needed to regain control over his wayward thoughts. When her lips brushed his, though, they were off again. Damn.
She gave his shoulder a gentle shove. "Come on, baby. I want you to tell me about the stars."
Oh, she was good. Earlier, when she went inside the tent after their show by the fireside, the renegade part of his mind, as fully overwhelmed as the rest of him, began the argument that he was not acting. It accused him of being in love with her. The most troubling part of the entire thought process for him was that he didn't argue about it. And right now, with her fingers continuing to stroke the back of his neck, he didn't care about any of it. He gave himself over to the sensation and a soft groan escaped from his throat. His complicated life just entered a new dimension of complexity, one he suspected was created just for him.
You really should get her to stop that...what harm can it do...do you really want an answer to that...you need to just shut up; it feels good...stop her, man, before it's too late...it's too late already, stupid... just shut the hell up...
He got to his feet, reluctantly giving in to the small voice of reason pounding in his head. He turned toward her, reaching a hand out, which she readily took. She is really getting into this role, he mused. He wondered what was going through her mind. His mind was driving him nuts.
As they left the campsite, she tightened her hand around his, stepping a half step closer to him. By stepping into his personal space, she relayed to observers an impression that a level intimacy existed between them. She found herself regretting deeply that it did not.
He responded to her by drawing her closer, letting go of her hand and sliding his arm around her. When she settled against him, he could have sworn she sighed softly. But he wasn't certain. In any event, he was glad to believe she had. He pressed his lips against her head and this time he was certain she did sigh. No one could hear it; no one would know but him. So why had she done it?
He let his mind wander, as if it gave him any choice, and while it was on hiatus, his fingers lightly stroked the skin where her shirt rode up from her shorts. He gave no conscious thought to how smooth and soft her skin was, but it registered with some corner of his mind. His hand strayed further beneath her shirt, and he did nothing to check its path. Neither did she.
Eames struggled with herself. She'd suggested this. What had she been thinking? That getting him out of the campground might get him to settle down? She'd noticed his restlessness, and she realized she didn't know what his regular nighttime routine was. She knew what it was when she was with him, but that was a deviation from his routine. She got to thinking that he had to do something regularly to release that energy or he'd never sleep. So she opted for a walk...to burn off some of his restlessness. And what did she do? She lost her mind and slid into his side. It was just an act. Now his hand was gently stroking her side, and she was enjoying it way too much. Just an act... His hand strayed beneath her shirt, along her belly... Just an act...yeah, right...
Move your hand, dumbass...no, not that way! This is not helping matters any...are you even listening to me? No, I'm not, so go away and leave me alone...okay, fine, but I won't be responsible for what happens if I do...I don't care...you're enjoying this way too much...I thought you were going away...
When his internal dispute fell silent, he nuzzled the side of her head, encouraged by a soft moan and the pressure of her hip into his thigh. God, she's going to kill me yet...I told you...shut up...
He gently nipped her ear and she gasped, turning suddenly into his arms and luring him into another kiss. Her fingers threaded into his hair and her tongue, hot and seeking, probed into his mouth. He could not suppress a deep groan. He started to pull her into his body, but the tiny remnant of sense that remained inside him convinced him not to. What the hell would she think...? No, he couldn't let her know...oh...he was so screwed...
He stepped back from the embrace, a painful but necessary motion. He struggled to regain his senses, to catch his breath. "L-let's..just go to bed," he murmured.
Had he just said that? What if she misunderstood? "I-I mean...I..." he groaned miserably. "Let's go back and go to sleep," he amended.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
If they kept on with this, he was going to lose what little control he had left, and he was afraid that would be a bigger blow to their partnership than it would be able to take. So what was he suggesting? That they go back to a friggin' tent and get undressed...and...oh, no...that tied it. He was sleeping outside tonight.
He banked the fire, taking his time. In time, he knew, his body would settle enough for him to sleep, but there was no telling how long it would take. He was in for a rough night. If he was home, a cold shower would do him a world of good. Under different circumstances, a long walk would burn some of his energy and that would help, too, but he was not about to leave her alone at the campsite. It was about backing her up, not about protecting her, though he would do that in a heartbeat. He knew from experience that she could take care of herself, and he often pitied the people who crossed her. He made up his mind during the first year of their partnership never to put himself in that predicament. She could drop a guy like a rock.
As she came out of the tent, she hesitated for a long moment, watching him work over the dying fire. She studied his broad, strong back, his dark, softly curled hair...and it took a while for her to realize just where her thoughts were. What the heck was going on with her? All right, she knew he was sexy in a raw, powerful yet understated way. She'd seen the looks women gave him--and not just women who knew him. And the looks she got were full of envy. She got a disturbing flush of pleasure from that thought. He was hers in a way no other woman could have him. He was her partner.
When her hands came to rest on his back as he bent over the fire, she damn near dropped him onto the hot coals. He sat back, away from the fire. "Sorry," she whispered against his skin as she pressed her lips into the back of his neck.
He trembled and closed his eyes, fumbling for words. "S-sorry for what?"
"I didn't mean to startle you."
"Oh. I-I thought...you were already in bed."
"No, not yet. Are you coming?"
Not any time soon...will you just shut the hell up... He swallowed hard. "Um...I..." That sounded intelligent. Where the hell did his words vanish to? It was that light caress along the back of his neck...the fingers in his hair...oh, God...she was good...damn good...
When her fingers slid into his hair, she stopped thinking. His hair was soft, probably in need of a trimming, but she didn't care about that. One hand played with his curls while the other continued to stray across the back of his neck, and she was happily content. This is all an act, her mind suddenly interjected, taunting. For both of you. It's not real, no matter how much you want it to be. He'll never let it cross that line, and neither should you.
Recalling his kiss just a little while ago, she marveled at what a good actor he was. Anyone watching them was going to be convinced; they were doing their job. She looked up at the inky sky, searching for, but not finding, a distraction among the stars.
His mind was lost in the glowing embers, his body slowly heating up as she continued to caress him. Stop her, or you really will be in a world of hurt. Like he wasn't already...he really needed some way to relieve some of his tension, and his preferred method was inaccessible to him. He needed to take a walk, at the very least...
"Look at the stars," she whispered, her mouth much closer to his ear than he expected. "How about a walk in the starlight?"
How did she do that? Could she possibly read his mind? That thought was more than disturbing. He turned his head so he could see her face. She is so damn beautiful... He was getting tired of these tangents his mind kept taking off on. He really needed to regain control over his wayward thoughts. When her lips brushed his, though, they were off again. Damn.
She gave his shoulder a gentle shove. "Come on, baby. I want you to tell me about the stars."
Oh, she was good. Earlier, when she went inside the tent after their show by the fireside, the renegade part of his mind, as fully overwhelmed as the rest of him, began the argument that he was not acting. It accused him of being in love with her. The most troubling part of the entire thought process for him was that he didn't argue about it. And right now, with her fingers continuing to stroke the back of his neck, he didn't care about any of it. He gave himself over to the sensation and a soft groan escaped from his throat. His complicated life just entered a new dimension of complexity, one he suspected was created just for him.
You really should get her to stop that...what harm can it do...do you really want an answer to that...you need to just shut up; it feels good...stop her, man, before it's too late...it's too late already, stupid... just shut the hell up...
He got to his feet, reluctantly giving in to the small voice of reason pounding in his head. He turned toward her, reaching a hand out, which she readily took. She is really getting into this role, he mused. He wondered what was going through her mind. His mind was driving him nuts.
As they left the campsite, she tightened her hand around his, stepping a half step closer to him. By stepping into his personal space, she relayed to observers an impression that a level intimacy existed between them. She found herself regretting deeply that it did not.
He responded to her by drawing her closer, letting go of her hand and sliding his arm around her. When she settled against him, he could have sworn she sighed softly. But he wasn't certain. In any event, he was glad to believe she had. He pressed his lips against her head and this time he was certain she did sigh. No one could hear it; no one would know but him. So why had she done it?
He let his mind wander, as if it gave him any choice, and while it was on hiatus, his fingers lightly stroked the skin where her shirt rode up from her shorts. He gave no conscious thought to how smooth and soft her skin was, but it registered with some corner of his mind. His hand strayed further beneath her shirt, and he did nothing to check its path. Neither did she.
Eames struggled with herself. She'd suggested this. What had she been thinking? That getting him out of the campground might get him to settle down? She'd noticed his restlessness, and she realized she didn't know what his regular nighttime routine was. She knew what it was when she was with him, but that was a deviation from his routine. She got to thinking that he had to do something regularly to release that energy or he'd never sleep. So she opted for a walk...to burn off some of his restlessness. And what did she do? She lost her mind and slid into his side. It was just an act. Now his hand was gently stroking her side, and she was enjoying it way too much. Just an act... His hand strayed beneath her shirt, along her belly... Just an act...yeah, right...
Move your hand, dumbass...no, not that way! This is not helping matters any...are you even listening to me? No, I'm not, so go away and leave me alone...okay, fine, but I won't be responsible for what happens if I do...I don't care...you're enjoying this way too much...I thought you were going away...
When his internal dispute fell silent, he nuzzled the side of her head, encouraged by a soft moan and the pressure of her hip into his thigh. God, she's going to kill me yet...I told you...shut up...
He gently nipped her ear and she gasped, turning suddenly into his arms and luring him into another kiss. Her fingers threaded into his hair and her tongue, hot and seeking, probed into his mouth. He could not suppress a deep groan. He started to pull her into his body, but the tiny remnant of sense that remained inside him convinced him not to. What the hell would she think...? No, he couldn't let her know...oh...he was so screwed...
He stepped back from the embrace, a painful but necessary motion. He struggled to regain his senses, to catch his breath. "L-let's..just go to bed," he murmured.
Had he just said that? What if she misunderstood? "I-I mean...I..." he groaned miserably. "Let's go back and go to sleep," he amended.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
If they kept on with this, he was going to lose what little control he had left, and he was afraid that would be a bigger blow to their partnership than it would be able to take. So what was he suggesting? That they go back to a friggin' tent and get undressed...and...oh, no...that tied it. He was sleeping outside tonight.
Chapter 8: Morning Fire
It was very rare that the brick wall at the end of his stamina loomed ahead of him. It was even more rare that he hit it. But hit it he did, and hard, as several nights of poor sleep and the constant fight to keep his body under control caught up with him with a vengeance.
As Eames went into the tent, he lowered himself to the ground in front of the log by the fire. He listened to the sounds surrounding him: the chirp of the crickets and other night insects, his partner rummaging around in the tent, the pop of the coals in the fire...
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Eames had struggled with her nighttime wardrobe when she'd packed last night. Normally, when Bobby was around, she slept in an over-sized t-shirt—one of his or one that had been Joe's. But they were supposed to be newlyweds, even if they were camping. So she needed something kind of sexy, appropriate for camping, and modest enough not to give her partner a heart attack. She'd chosen a sleeveless, powder blue top with matching shorts. It had an understated sex appeal she found attractive while remaining modest enough to wear in mixed company.
As she changed, though, her mind wandered and she wondered what he was going to wear to bed. When she slept at his place, he changed in his bedroom and was always fully dressed when he came out in the morning. At her place, he wore sweats that he kept there so he wouldn't have to sleep in his suit when he ended up crashing on her couch. She really had to get a new couch if he was going to be stubborn about not letting her sleep on it. Of course, there was always room in her bed...she felt a flush creep into her face. Sleeping with Bobby...it was a nice thought to dwell on...and she would have been fine if her mind had remained solely on that thought. But no, it had to keep going.
Shaking her head to try dispelling the wayward images of his bare chest, sweating as he...oh, God...what the hell was wrong with her!
She left the tent to find him leaning back against the log, asleep, and she smiled. She knew he hadn't slept well last night, and it finally caught up with him. So he did have a limit. That was reassuring. Leaning down, she gently roused him enough to get him to stumble into the tent. He dropped onto his sleeping bag and he was out again. She sat beside him and gently ran her fingers through his hair, wishing she was free to do this on a regular basis. She loved...him...
Now where had that come from? She was really starting to resent her mind for its wanderings, and she struggled to convince it that their relationship was what it was; there was no changing it. Sighing heavily, she went to her own sleeping bag, making sure her gun was nearby, and slid into it. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.
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Outside the tent, a short distance into the trees, a solitary figure watched the quiet tent site. These two were something. He'd seen just married folk damn near strip each other near the fire, and others act fully proper, like they were brother and sister, until they got inside. Then everything changed. These two were a cross between the two extremes. It was obvious they wanted each other in a bad way, but they held back. He watched the tent for awhile, impressed by the quiet. He'd have thought she was a screamer. Ah, well...tomorrow was another night. He'd let them pass their first night in peace, but tomorrow, all bets were off.
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Gradually, the world came into focus as he began to waken. Birds were chirping in anticipation of the dawn, and a warm body was nestled against his. His arms encircled her, and the fact that he was on top of his sleeping bag allowed full body contact. He tightened his arms, pulling her closer. She pulled his arm against her chest, nestling it snugly between her breasts. His thumb gently stroked the side of one firm mound through the thin fabric of her shirt as he nuzzled his face into her hair. He smelled...Alex! Oh, damn! What the hell was he doing? He opened his eyes in a mild panic. It was still dark, and she squirmed against him. Oh, God...don't do that...
How was he going to do this? He had to extricate himself without waking her. As carefully as he could, he slid his arm from her embrace and rested his hand on her hip. He released an uneven breath and battled his body. She wants you...no, she doesn't...come on, clueless, she put your hand...it was a mistake—she was sleeping! Don't read anything more into it...Dumbass...I thought you were going away...
Slowly, with a shudder in his muscles he fought to get under control, he pulled his other arm from beneath her. You know, she wants you. You could get her into a state where she wouldn't give a damn that you're partners...another tremor shuddered through his body at the thought, and he actually considered it for a moment. His fingers tightened briefly on her hip. Then he mentally kicked himself. What is wrong with you? You can't do that! You'd betray every ounce of trust she put into you and...and...no...
The thought of losing her calmed his renegade body and silenced his wayward mind. He finished extricating himself from her arms and left the tent.
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She woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Stretching, she took a few deep breaths and pulled herself from her sleeping bag, shivering in the cool morning air. What a dream! A few more of those, and another few days here with Bobby, and she was going to throw him across that line and give him no choice but to respond to her...and that thought was worse than her dream. She took another deep breath. One pregnancy and she turned into a raging ball of hormones, all aimed right at her reticent partner. She had to rein them in and keep them under tight control. She couldn't lose him. She hated even the thought of a life without him. Behave yourself, Alex. Why? Because if you don't, he's going to spend the rest of this assignment sleeping under the car.
Deciding the cold air could only help, she stepped out of the tent. He was on the other side of the fire, intent on cooking their breakfast. "Good morning," she said with a warm smile.
He looked up, intending to return her greeting. He almost fell into the flames. Every thought fled from his mind except one disturbing image of...he blinked, trying to chase the image back into his subconscious. Just look at her...stop panting, stupid...I'm not...you might as well be...why don't you just go the hell away like you promised?
He came crashing back to reality when his hand strayed a little too close to the flames. "Ow! Damn!"
He dropped the pan and the bacon grease ignited. Eames covered her mouth, struggling not to break into laughter. Once he got the fire in the pan extinguished, he sat back on his heels and shook his head. What was happening? He was totally losing his grip. He looked up at her sheepishly. "I, uh, hope you like your bacon well done."
That did it. She began laughing. He gave her a soft, embarrassed smile as she crossed to his side and leaned down to kiss his head. "I'm going down to the bathroom."
He nodded. "I'll...salvage this mess and try not to set the eggs on fire. How do you want yours?"
"Over medium, please."
He watched her return to the tent and almost ended up in the fire again when she bent over to step through the opening. She really is going to kill you, literally, if you don't get a grip.
He examined his burned hand and shook his head in bewilderment. She came back out of the tent with a bundle in her hand...clothes and toiletries. Thank God she wasn't going to change in the tent. If he walked in on that, she'd be calling an ambulance for him.
"I'll be right back, Bobby."
"Breakfast will be ready when you get back."
She smiled and headed down the road toward the rest rooms. He watched her until she was no longer in sight, and then he started breathing again. He had trouble chasing away images that stirred his body again with a heat she had no business igniting. But she did ignite it, and he had to deal with it. Focus on the breakfast...eggs over medium...and bacon not burned to a crisp...like he was going to be in short order if this guy didn't do something soon, so they could go back home...where a cold shower was calling his name...desperately...
It was very rare that the brick wall at the end of his stamina loomed ahead of him. It was even more rare that he hit it. But hit it he did, and hard, as several nights of poor sleep and the constant fight to keep his body under control caught up with him with a vengeance.
As Eames went into the tent, he lowered himself to the ground in front of the log by the fire. He listened to the sounds surrounding him: the chirp of the crickets and other night insects, his partner rummaging around in the tent, the pop of the coals in the fire...
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Eames had struggled with her nighttime wardrobe when she'd packed last night. Normally, when Bobby was around, she slept in an over-sized t-shirt—one of his or one that had been Joe's. But they were supposed to be newlyweds, even if they were camping. So she needed something kind of sexy, appropriate for camping, and modest enough not to give her partner a heart attack. She'd chosen a sleeveless, powder blue top with matching shorts. It had an understated sex appeal she found attractive while remaining modest enough to wear in mixed company.
As she changed, though, her mind wandered and she wondered what he was going to wear to bed. When she slept at his place, he changed in his bedroom and was always fully dressed when he came out in the morning. At her place, he wore sweats that he kept there so he wouldn't have to sleep in his suit when he ended up crashing on her couch. She really had to get a new couch if he was going to be stubborn about not letting her sleep on it. Of course, there was always room in her bed...she felt a flush creep into her face. Sleeping with Bobby...it was a nice thought to dwell on...and she would have been fine if her mind had remained solely on that thought. But no, it had to keep going.
Shaking her head to try dispelling the wayward images of his bare chest, sweating as he...oh, God...what the hell was wrong with her!
She left the tent to find him leaning back against the log, asleep, and she smiled. She knew he hadn't slept well last night, and it finally caught up with him. So he did have a limit. That was reassuring. Leaning down, she gently roused him enough to get him to stumble into the tent. He dropped onto his sleeping bag and he was out again. She sat beside him and gently ran her fingers through his hair, wishing she was free to do this on a regular basis. She loved...him...
Now where had that come from? She was really starting to resent her mind for its wanderings, and she struggled to convince it that their relationship was what it was; there was no changing it. Sighing heavily, she went to her own sleeping bag, making sure her gun was nearby, and slid into it. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.
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Outside the tent, a short distance into the trees, a solitary figure watched the quiet tent site. These two were something. He'd seen just married folk damn near strip each other near the fire, and others act fully proper, like they were brother and sister, until they got inside. Then everything changed. These two were a cross between the two extremes. It was obvious they wanted each other in a bad way, but they held back. He watched the tent for awhile, impressed by the quiet. He'd have thought she was a screamer. Ah, well...tomorrow was another night. He'd let them pass their first night in peace, but tomorrow, all bets were off.
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Gradually, the world came into focus as he began to waken. Birds were chirping in anticipation of the dawn, and a warm body was nestled against his. His arms encircled her, and the fact that he was on top of his sleeping bag allowed full body contact. He tightened his arms, pulling her closer. She pulled his arm against her chest, nestling it snugly between her breasts. His thumb gently stroked the side of one firm mound through the thin fabric of her shirt as he nuzzled his face into her hair. He smelled...Alex! Oh, damn! What the hell was he doing? He opened his eyes in a mild panic. It was still dark, and she squirmed against him. Oh, God...don't do that...
How was he going to do this? He had to extricate himself without waking her. As carefully as he could, he slid his arm from her embrace and rested his hand on her hip. He released an uneven breath and battled his body. She wants you...no, she doesn't...come on, clueless, she put your hand...it was a mistake—she was sleeping! Don't read anything more into it...Dumbass...I thought you were going away...
Slowly, with a shudder in his muscles he fought to get under control, he pulled his other arm from beneath her. You know, she wants you. You could get her into a state where she wouldn't give a damn that you're partners...another tremor shuddered through his body at the thought, and he actually considered it for a moment. His fingers tightened briefly on her hip. Then he mentally kicked himself. What is wrong with you? You can't do that! You'd betray every ounce of trust she put into you and...and...no...
The thought of losing her calmed his renegade body and silenced his wayward mind. He finished extricating himself from her arms and left the tent.
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She woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Stretching, she took a few deep breaths and pulled herself from her sleeping bag, shivering in the cool morning air. What a dream! A few more of those, and another few days here with Bobby, and she was going to throw him across that line and give him no choice but to respond to her...and that thought was worse than her dream. She took another deep breath. One pregnancy and she turned into a raging ball of hormones, all aimed right at her reticent partner. She had to rein them in and keep them under tight control. She couldn't lose him. She hated even the thought of a life without him. Behave yourself, Alex. Why? Because if you don't, he's going to spend the rest of this assignment sleeping under the car.
Deciding the cold air could only help, she stepped out of the tent. He was on the other side of the fire, intent on cooking their breakfast. "Good morning," she said with a warm smile.
He looked up, intending to return her greeting. He almost fell into the flames. Every thought fled from his mind except one disturbing image of...he blinked, trying to chase the image back into his subconscious. Just look at her...stop panting, stupid...I'm not...you might as well be...why don't you just go the hell away like you promised?
He came crashing back to reality when his hand strayed a little too close to the flames. "Ow! Damn!"
He dropped the pan and the bacon grease ignited. Eames covered her mouth, struggling not to break into laughter. Once he got the fire in the pan extinguished, he sat back on his heels and shook his head. What was happening? He was totally losing his grip. He looked up at her sheepishly. "I, uh, hope you like your bacon well done."
That did it. She began laughing. He gave her a soft, embarrassed smile as she crossed to his side and leaned down to kiss his head. "I'm going down to the bathroom."
He nodded. "I'll...salvage this mess and try not to set the eggs on fire. How do you want yours?"
"Over medium, please."
He watched her return to the tent and almost ended up in the fire again when she bent over to step through the opening. She really is going to kill you, literally, if you don't get a grip.
He examined his burned hand and shook his head in bewilderment. She came back out of the tent with a bundle in her hand...clothes and toiletries. Thank God she wasn't going to change in the tent. If he walked in on that, she'd be calling an ambulance for him.
"I'll be right back, Bobby."
"Breakfast will be ready when you get back."
She smiled and headed down the road toward the rest rooms. He watched her until she was no longer in sight, and then he started breathing again. He had trouble chasing away images that stirred his body again with a heat she had no business igniting. But she did ignite it, and he had to deal with it. Focus on the breakfast...eggs over medium...and bacon not burned to a crisp...like he was going to be in short order if this guy didn't do something soon, so they could go back home...where a cold shower was calling his name...desperately...
Chapter 9: Hiking to Hell
Eames returned to the campsite from the bathroom and set her things back in the tent. When she came out, she sat beside Goren as he handed her a plate. She smiled. "Thanks. How'd you sleep last night?"
"Fine."
Sleeping hadn't been the problem; waking was. The last thing in the world he had expected was to wake up holding her in his arms, against his body, and the deep sense of pleasure and contentment he remembered just before reality set in and he realized that she was the woman he was holding. Damn, he had to keep his mind away from those thoughts or he'd be in an eternal state of hurt. "Uh, how was your night?"
"Pretty good, actually." She lowered her voice. "Do you think we're being watched?"
He shrugged, glancing into the nearby trees. "He's only struck at night, but who knows when he does his survellience."
They had to remain in their roles...she had no problem with that. "Suppose he doesn't take the bait?"
All of this, for nothing...oh, no..no friggin' way...that was not an option... "We stay here until he does."
"I am not spending the rest of my life in this campground, Goren," she said. Although, the rest of her life with him was a very attractive option...she shook her head and chased away the thought. It's a pipedream, Alex. It'll never happen. Partners is all you'll ever be.
"No, what?" he frowned.
She looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"You were shaking your head no."
"No, I wasn't. I was just...shaking out my hair." Oh, yeah--he'd believe that. Nice going.
"Oh." What was she trying to hide? Why on earth would she be trying to hide anything? He studied her for a long moment before he gave in to temptation and leaned closer, giving her a soft kiss. Just an act...just an act...Okay, this was the wrong thing to do... He drew back before he lost control entirely and he got up, motioning toward her plate. "F-finish your breakfast, Alex. Then we can go hiking."
"Hiking?"
"Yes, hiking. It's like walking."
"I know what hiking is. Why are we going hiking?"
"Do you really want to deal with me if I don't have something to do?"
"Hiking it is," she said without hesitation, diving into her breakfast. A bored Bobby was worse to deal with than an agitated Bobby and hiking suddenly became a very attractive option.
As she ate, he cleaned up and got together a meal for their lunch. He was set on hiking, and that did not include traipsing back to the campsite for lunch. He figured that if they were hiking, he would be busy enough keeping track of their way not to hurtle headlong into disaster by coming on to her along the trailside. That was just where he was headed, too. His resolve was beginning to fade as his attraction to her approached overwhelming. But he was still determined not to act on his impulses. He was not going to drive her away. Suppose she wants you as badly?... Why couldn't you stay away? She doesn't want me. She's my partner...And that means she can't be attracted to you? You're her partner, too, dumbass...
Why was his mind suddenly changing tactics? From taunting to persuading, back to taunting...and his body, as usual, was going right along with the suggestions his mind was putting forth. Memories of waking with her nestled in his arms calmed him, but only for a moment as the devil's advocate he kept cursing chimed in. You've had a small taste of what it would be like to hold her. Don't you want more?...Of course I do... Hold on, just one minute there! Where did that small part of his mind go that was on his side? Had it finally defected to the enemy? And when did his own mind become the enemy? He was so close to giving in it was frightening him. They really needed to get out of the campsite, away from the tent... He'd have to deal with it all again tonight...maybe his resolve would find its way back by then...And maybe not... He groaned softly to himself and cursed his ever-active mind.
She finished her breakfast and cleaned her dishes, setting them with the ones he had washed and set aside to dry. "Is there anything I can do?"
I can think of lots of things... "N-no, Eames. I'm about ready."
That was no lie. He was very ready. It was the small but firm hold he retained on reality that kept him in check, but it was a struggle. She noticed the tension in him and misinterpreted it as impatience for this perp to make his move. When this was over, she was certain he would calm down and things would go back to normal. Damn...
She watched him pack water and food into the daypack he'd brought along. Straddling the log, she sat beside him. "A picnic lunch?" she asked with a teasing smile. "How romantic..."
Romantic? Did she say romantic? Oh, God, that was the last thing he needed. He saw disaster on the horizon and he was racing toward it at breakneck speed, downhill the entire way. "I-it's just lunch. Call it whatever you want."
She leaned closer. "I like the sound of picnic," she said softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her breath whiffed past his ear and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regroup, but it wasn't working. He shifted uncomfortably on the log, moving away from her as he finished with the day pack and stood up. She again read his discomfort as impatience; he wanted to get going. "So where are we hiking to?"
Hell? I really don't care, just so we get away from here...I'll never survive the day if we stay put... "Wherever. Unless you have a suggestion..."
"No. Just wondering if you had a plan."
A plan? For real? Was she joking? His only plan was to try keeping busy...yeah, like that's going to work...shut up and go away...hey, pal, your body's on my side...don't remind me... "No, Eames. No plan. Are you ready?"
"Whenever you are."
They headed out of the campsite toward the hiking trails that lay at the northern boundary of the campground and into the Adirondack forests.
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He was waiting when they woke. He was actually surprised to see the guy already up and about when he got there to take his position, just after dawn. It was going to be important for him to have the benefit of surprise on this couple. He would never be able to overpower this guy. If he didn't take him out with the first blow, he'd be in a huge amount of trouble. Something told him it would be like riling a grizzly bear if he got this fella mad. The woman didn't concern him, but the guy would be able to hurt him. He had to be ready when the opportunity presented itself or they'd slip through his fingers and he really wanted these two. He was looking forward to the challenge.
He watched and he waited while they ate breakfast and talked. He could hear their voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying. No matter. He didn't care what they talked about. She finished her breakfast while the guy packed a day pack. They were leaving for the day. This just got better and better. His chance was coming. He could feel it, and his gut had never been wrong in these matters. He waited for them to finish getting ready and head out of the campsite. And he followed.
Eames returned to the campsite from the bathroom and set her things back in the tent. When she came out, she sat beside Goren as he handed her a plate. She smiled. "Thanks. How'd you sleep last night?"
"Fine."
Sleeping hadn't been the problem; waking was. The last thing in the world he had expected was to wake up holding her in his arms, against his body, and the deep sense of pleasure and contentment he remembered just before reality set in and he realized that she was the woman he was holding. Damn, he had to keep his mind away from those thoughts or he'd be in an eternal state of hurt. "Uh, how was your night?"
"Pretty good, actually." She lowered her voice. "Do you think we're being watched?"
He shrugged, glancing into the nearby trees. "He's only struck at night, but who knows when he does his survellience."
They had to remain in their roles...she had no problem with that. "Suppose he doesn't take the bait?"
All of this, for nothing...oh, no..no friggin' way...that was not an option... "We stay here until he does."
"I am not spending the rest of my life in this campground, Goren," she said. Although, the rest of her life with him was a very attractive option...she shook her head and chased away the thought. It's a pipedream, Alex. It'll never happen. Partners is all you'll ever be.
"No, what?" he frowned.
She looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"You were shaking your head no."
"No, I wasn't. I was just...shaking out my hair." Oh, yeah--he'd believe that. Nice going.
"Oh." What was she trying to hide? Why on earth would she be trying to hide anything? He studied her for a long moment before he gave in to temptation and leaned closer, giving her a soft kiss. Just an act...just an act...Okay, this was the wrong thing to do... He drew back before he lost control entirely and he got up, motioning toward her plate. "F-finish your breakfast, Alex. Then we can go hiking."
"Hiking?"
"Yes, hiking. It's like walking."
"I know what hiking is. Why are we going hiking?"
"Do you really want to deal with me if I don't have something to do?"
"Hiking it is," she said without hesitation, diving into her breakfast. A bored Bobby was worse to deal with than an agitated Bobby and hiking suddenly became a very attractive option.
As she ate, he cleaned up and got together a meal for their lunch. He was set on hiking, and that did not include traipsing back to the campsite for lunch. He figured that if they were hiking, he would be busy enough keeping track of their way not to hurtle headlong into disaster by coming on to her along the trailside. That was just where he was headed, too. His resolve was beginning to fade as his attraction to her approached overwhelming. But he was still determined not to act on his impulses. He was not going to drive her away. Suppose she wants you as badly?... Why couldn't you stay away? She doesn't want me. She's my partner...And that means she can't be attracted to you? You're her partner, too, dumbass...
Why was his mind suddenly changing tactics? From taunting to persuading, back to taunting...and his body, as usual, was going right along with the suggestions his mind was putting forth. Memories of waking with her nestled in his arms calmed him, but only for a moment as the devil's advocate he kept cursing chimed in. You've had a small taste of what it would be like to hold her. Don't you want more?...Of course I do... Hold on, just one minute there! Where did that small part of his mind go that was on his side? Had it finally defected to the enemy? And when did his own mind become the enemy? He was so close to giving in it was frightening him. They really needed to get out of the campsite, away from the tent... He'd have to deal with it all again tonight...maybe his resolve would find its way back by then...And maybe not... He groaned softly to himself and cursed his ever-active mind.
She finished her breakfast and cleaned her dishes, setting them with the ones he had washed and set aside to dry. "Is there anything I can do?"
I can think of lots of things... "N-no, Eames. I'm about ready."
That was no lie. He was very ready. It was the small but firm hold he retained on reality that kept him in check, but it was a struggle. She noticed the tension in him and misinterpreted it as impatience for this perp to make his move. When this was over, she was certain he would calm down and things would go back to normal. Damn...
She watched him pack water and food into the daypack he'd brought along. Straddling the log, she sat beside him. "A picnic lunch?" she asked with a teasing smile. "How romantic..."
Romantic? Did she say romantic? Oh, God, that was the last thing he needed. He saw disaster on the horizon and he was racing toward it at breakneck speed, downhill the entire way. "I-it's just lunch. Call it whatever you want."
She leaned closer. "I like the sound of picnic," she said softly, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her breath whiffed past his ear and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regroup, but it wasn't working. He shifted uncomfortably on the log, moving away from her as he finished with the day pack and stood up. She again read his discomfort as impatience; he wanted to get going. "So where are we hiking to?"
Hell? I really don't care, just so we get away from here...I'll never survive the day if we stay put... "Wherever. Unless you have a suggestion..."
"No. Just wondering if you had a plan."
A plan? For real? Was she joking? His only plan was to try keeping busy...yeah, like that's going to work...shut up and go away...hey, pal, your body's on my side...don't remind me... "No, Eames. No plan. Are you ready?"
"Whenever you are."
They headed out of the campsite toward the hiking trails that lay at the northern boundary of the campground and into the Adirondack forests.
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He was waiting when they woke. He was actually surprised to see the guy already up and about when he got there to take his position, just after dawn. It was going to be important for him to have the benefit of surprise on this couple. He would never be able to overpower this guy. If he didn't take him out with the first blow, he'd be in a huge amount of trouble. Something told him it would be like riling a grizzly bear if he got this fella mad. The woman didn't concern him, but the guy would be able to hurt him. He had to be ready when the opportunity presented itself or they'd slip through his fingers and he really wanted these two. He was looking forward to the challenge.
He watched and he waited while they ate breakfast and talked. He could hear their voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying. No matter. He didn't care what they talked about. She finished her breakfast while the guy packed a day pack. They were leaving for the day. This just got better and better. His chance was coming. He could feel it, and his gut had never been wrong in these matters. He waited for them to finish getting ready and head out of the campsite. And he followed.
Chapter 10: Heat
If they had been at home, one or two phone calls and he'd be able to easily resolve his physical problem. But what the hell could he do out here? There was the owner's wife, but he didn't do married women; that wasn't his style. Besides, they were supposed to be newlyweds, and if their voyeur saw him interacting with another woman, it might raise some suspicions. No...he was stuck. Of course, there was always Eames, but he didn't do his partner either. Pretending to have a relationship like that and actually having one were worlds apart, and he was not inclined to cross that line. Not yet...Not ever...Says you. Ignoring the taunting voice in his head, he resigned himself to suffer in silence as they left the camp property and set out down a well-marked trail.
It was wide enough for them to walk side-by-side, and she slipped her hand into his. Absently, he stroked her hand with his thumb. No one would see it, but it just felt...right. You're just hoping she'll read something into it...Am not...Are too...Am not...You're a bad liar...And you're a pain in the ass...
Did he just call himself a pain in the ass? And when the hell did his mind return to preschool? I'm just keeping up appearances... Is that what you call it? So if you're just keeping up appearances, what's going on down... Just shut up!
God, he really was losing it...and it was all because of his partner. She just had to jump in with both feet, dragging him right along with her. Gotta keep up appearances...and she was doing a great job of it, better than she imagined, he wagered.
He could not shake the feeling of being watched, even though they'd left the campground behind them. How long would it be before this guy made his move? According to the file, the first couple had been attacked their last night in the campground...uh, the fifth night of their stay. The last ones, the two brothers, had been assaulted the second night of their stay. Was the perp getting impatient or bold? He wasn't sure about the perp but he was certainly anxious. Another couple of mornings like this morning and there was no telling what would happen. Now how did his mind get from the case to waking up in trouble with Eames nestled in his arms...there it goes again...dammit. Go on, chucklehead, keep trying to focus on the case. That'll get you through... Damn, he wished that part of his mind had an 'off' switch.
Whenever the trail climbed or narrowed, he was content to let her walk ahead of him, and his reason for that was two-fold. First and foremost, he didn't want to leave her behind or force her to keep up with him. He wanted to set the hike to her pace. His second reason was less altruistic. He was giving in to his desire in a series of small concessions, hoping to quench the fire in small doses so he wouldn't have a friggin' meltdown when they returned to the campsite. In letting her take the trail ahead of him, he got to watch her, and he contented himself to enjoy the view. If he had to succumb to whatever she would ultimately do to him, then, by God, he might as well get some small pleasure from it.
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They stopped for lunch in a shady glade by a small brook. "Here's a nice place for that picnic," she said lightly, and he groaned to himself. Sure, she would pick a place like this...Romantic, isn't that the term she used...Go away...
She took the day pack from him after he slid it off his shoulders and sat own on a large flat rock near the water to go through it. "What kind of sandwiches are these?"
"Peanut butter and jelly."
"Are you serious?"
"It's good hiking food. Protein in the peanut butter and sugar in the jelly. There's some trail mix in there, too."
"Are you going to come over here and eat?"
Actually, I might just sit in the water... "Uh, yeah...I guess so."
He settled onto the rock beside her as she handed him a sandwich and a bottle of water. His eyes scanned the surrounding trees. Had he heard something? Animals, idiot...the forest is full of animals. Pay attention to your 'wife'...Now that's the last thing I need to do...
But she didn't give him much choice. She finished her sandwich and walked down to the water. Squatting beside the stream as it churned its way through the glade, she put her hands in the cold water and splashed her face. She rose to her feet and turned, running directly into her partner's chest. He tipped his head to look at the glistening water still clinging to her bangs and her lashes. With the back of his fingers, he brushed wet strands of hair back, tucking them behind her ear. She caught her breath. His touch was light, tender, his eyes bright with a fire she had never seen before. "Bobby...?"
"Shhh. Don't talk."
He framed her damp face with both hands and drew her closer. She didn't resist. His lips brushed hers gently, then his hands fell away and he drew her against him, deepening the kiss. The red alert sirens that would normally be screaming a protest throughout his brain were silent. With a supreme effort, he withdrew. An act...his mind sputtered a feeble protest. She's acting...but you're not...not anymore...God, what's going to become of me?
She fisted his shirt in her hands and pressed her forehead into his chest. What the hell was that...and why was it doing this to her? That was no 'because I have to kiss you to maintain this charade' kiss. That was a real kiss. And there had been real heat in his eyes...and a real response of his body to her... "Bobby?"
His voice was soft, close to her ear. "I-I'm so...I...Alex...f-forgive me...I..."
"Now you be quiet," she replied. "No apologies. Not one, or I'll knock your ass off this damn mountain."
"Then...I...I don't know what to say."
"Good. That's nice for a change. Come on. Let's keep hiking. We'll...work this out later."
Spontaneous combustion...now he knew exactly how it happened. It was his turn to splash the cold stream water over his head. He could have sworn he heard something sizzle...
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He was disappointed. He'd been hoping more would happen by the stream. Even he could feel the heat these two generated. So far they had given him the most entertainment, even if it wasn't as much as he'd hoped. They were more discrete in public than he hoped they would be. The guy seemed to be a cautious one, always looking around. Protect the lady from watchers, go ahead, he mumbled under his breath. There wasn't much time left.
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They broke out of the forest onto a bluff late in the afternoon. Eames frowned at the sun. "It's a lot later than I thought. We'll never make it back before sundown."
"Is that a problem?"
"Well, it wouldn't be if our tent wasn't there."
"You've never slept under the stars?"
"Of course I have. In a tent."
He smiled. "You're in for a treat."
And you get a reprieve...this is your damn fault, now shut up...my fault? You're the one who has it bad for her...I think I told you to shut up...
"Suppose it rains?"
"Then we get wet. You won't melt."
"You don't know that."
He laughed, but there was still some tension in the sound that she couldn't understand. "Just enjoy the view," he said softly. "I can find our way back after dark if you really want to go back to the tent."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She turned away and looked out over the valley below. "It's beautiful."
It's not the only thing. "I'll have to take you out west. If you like this view, there are others out there that are spectacular."
Where did that come from? What right had he to offer her anything like that? Oh, he'd love to take her, well, anywhere...
But she had turned from the view and was studying him. Quietly, she said, "I'd like that."
She turned back and he was left floundering. I'd like that. Not even his rogue mind had a response for that...but his body, never to be outdone, always had some input. Damn.
He heard the crashing in the bushes, but the sound didn't register immediately. Whether that helped him or not, he would never know. He turned toward the sound as a solid branch came slicing through the air toward his head. He heard Eames yell something, but the branch came close to meeting its mark, glancing of the side of his head, and he collapsed to the ground.
Their assailant turned toward Eames, smiling wickedly and waving the branch, menacing. "Now it's time for you and me to have some fun, sweetheart."
"In your dreams," she snarled, showing no fear.
"No, darlin'. In your nightmares."
He started toward her, weapon at the ready, and attacked.
If they had been at home, one or two phone calls and he'd be able to easily resolve his physical problem. But what the hell could he do out here? There was the owner's wife, but he didn't do married women; that wasn't his style. Besides, they were supposed to be newlyweds, and if their voyeur saw him interacting with another woman, it might raise some suspicions. No...he was stuck. Of course, there was always Eames, but he didn't do his partner either. Pretending to have a relationship like that and actually having one were worlds apart, and he was not inclined to cross that line. Not yet...Not ever...Says you. Ignoring the taunting voice in his head, he resigned himself to suffer in silence as they left the camp property and set out down a well-marked trail.
It was wide enough for them to walk side-by-side, and she slipped her hand into his. Absently, he stroked her hand with his thumb. No one would see it, but it just felt...right. You're just hoping she'll read something into it...Am not...Are too...Am not...You're a bad liar...And you're a pain in the ass...
Did he just call himself a pain in the ass? And when the hell did his mind return to preschool? I'm just keeping up appearances... Is that what you call it? So if you're just keeping up appearances, what's going on down... Just shut up!
God, he really was losing it...and it was all because of his partner. She just had to jump in with both feet, dragging him right along with her. Gotta keep up appearances...and she was doing a great job of it, better than she imagined, he wagered.
He could not shake the feeling of being watched, even though they'd left the campground behind them. How long would it be before this guy made his move? According to the file, the first couple had been attacked their last night in the campground...uh, the fifth night of their stay. The last ones, the two brothers, had been assaulted the second night of their stay. Was the perp getting impatient or bold? He wasn't sure about the perp but he was certainly anxious. Another couple of mornings like this morning and there was no telling what would happen. Now how did his mind get from the case to waking up in trouble with Eames nestled in his arms...there it goes again...dammit. Go on, chucklehead, keep trying to focus on the case. That'll get you through... Damn, he wished that part of his mind had an 'off' switch.
Whenever the trail climbed or narrowed, he was content to let her walk ahead of him, and his reason for that was two-fold. First and foremost, he didn't want to leave her behind or force her to keep up with him. He wanted to set the hike to her pace. His second reason was less altruistic. He was giving in to his desire in a series of small concessions, hoping to quench the fire in small doses so he wouldn't have a friggin' meltdown when they returned to the campsite. In letting her take the trail ahead of him, he got to watch her, and he contented himself to enjoy the view. If he had to succumb to whatever she would ultimately do to him, then, by God, he might as well get some small pleasure from it.
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They stopped for lunch in a shady glade by a small brook. "Here's a nice place for that picnic," she said lightly, and he groaned to himself. Sure, she would pick a place like this...Romantic, isn't that the term she used...Go away...
She took the day pack from him after he slid it off his shoulders and sat own on a large flat rock near the water to go through it. "What kind of sandwiches are these?"
"Peanut butter and jelly."
"Are you serious?"
"It's good hiking food. Protein in the peanut butter and sugar in the jelly. There's some trail mix in there, too."
"Are you going to come over here and eat?"
Actually, I might just sit in the water... "Uh, yeah...I guess so."
He settled onto the rock beside her as she handed him a sandwich and a bottle of water. His eyes scanned the surrounding trees. Had he heard something? Animals, idiot...the forest is full of animals. Pay attention to your 'wife'...Now that's the last thing I need to do...
But she didn't give him much choice. She finished her sandwich and walked down to the water. Squatting beside the stream as it churned its way through the glade, she put her hands in the cold water and splashed her face. She rose to her feet and turned, running directly into her partner's chest. He tipped his head to look at the glistening water still clinging to her bangs and her lashes. With the back of his fingers, he brushed wet strands of hair back, tucking them behind her ear. She caught her breath. His touch was light, tender, his eyes bright with a fire she had never seen before. "Bobby...?"
"Shhh. Don't talk."
He framed her damp face with both hands and drew her closer. She didn't resist. His lips brushed hers gently, then his hands fell away and he drew her against him, deepening the kiss. The red alert sirens that would normally be screaming a protest throughout his brain were silent. With a supreme effort, he withdrew. An act...his mind sputtered a feeble protest. She's acting...but you're not...not anymore...God, what's going to become of me?
She fisted his shirt in her hands and pressed her forehead into his chest. What the hell was that...and why was it doing this to her? That was no 'because I have to kiss you to maintain this charade' kiss. That was a real kiss. And there had been real heat in his eyes...and a real response of his body to her... "Bobby?"
His voice was soft, close to her ear. "I-I'm so...I...Alex...f-forgive me...I..."
"Now you be quiet," she replied. "No apologies. Not one, or I'll knock your ass off this damn mountain."
"Then...I...I don't know what to say."
"Good. That's nice for a change. Come on. Let's keep hiking. We'll...work this out later."
Spontaneous combustion...now he knew exactly how it happened. It was his turn to splash the cold stream water over his head. He could have sworn he heard something sizzle...
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He was disappointed. He'd been hoping more would happen by the stream. Even he could feel the heat these two generated. So far they had given him the most entertainment, even if it wasn't as much as he'd hoped. They were more discrete in public than he hoped they would be. The guy seemed to be a cautious one, always looking around. Protect the lady from watchers, go ahead, he mumbled under his breath. There wasn't much time left.
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They broke out of the forest onto a bluff late in the afternoon. Eames frowned at the sun. "It's a lot later than I thought. We'll never make it back before sundown."
"Is that a problem?"
"Well, it wouldn't be if our tent wasn't there."
"You've never slept under the stars?"
"Of course I have. In a tent."
He smiled. "You're in for a treat."
And you get a reprieve...this is your damn fault, now shut up...my fault? You're the one who has it bad for her...I think I told you to shut up...
"Suppose it rains?"
"Then we get wet. You won't melt."
"You don't know that."
He laughed, but there was still some tension in the sound that she couldn't understand. "Just enjoy the view," he said softly. "I can find our way back after dark if you really want to go back to the tent."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She turned away and looked out over the valley below. "It's beautiful."
It's not the only thing. "I'll have to take you out west. If you like this view, there are others out there that are spectacular."
Where did that come from? What right had he to offer her anything like that? Oh, he'd love to take her, well, anywhere...
But she had turned from the view and was studying him. Quietly, she said, "I'd like that."
She turned back and he was left floundering. I'd like that. Not even his rogue mind had a response for that...but his body, never to be outdone, always had some input. Damn.
He heard the crashing in the bushes, but the sound didn't register immediately. Whether that helped him or not, he would never know. He turned toward the sound as a solid branch came slicing through the air toward his head. He heard Eames yell something, but the branch came close to meeting its mark, glancing of the side of his head, and he collapsed to the ground.
Their assailant turned toward Eames, smiling wickedly and waving the branch, menacing. "Now it's time for you and me to have some fun, sweetheart."
"In your dreams," she snarled, showing no fear.
"No, darlin'. In your nightmares."
He started toward her, weapon at the ready, and attacked.
Chapter 11: Final Confrontation
The first thing Eames noticed was that this man, while only average in height, was powerfully built. He probably had a good twenty pounds on her partner and could easily overpower her if she let him get that advantage, which she had no intention of doing. She moved away from the edge of the bluff as he came at her, raising the branch he'd used to disable Goren. She waited until the last second, as the branch came hurtling through the air toward her head, before diving out of the way of the makeshift weapon. Her assailant had not expected that and his momentum carried him, stumbling, toward the trees.
She glanced toward her fallen partner, concerned that he wasn't moving. A shout of rage drew her attention back to their suspect and she backed up as he came toward her. "It's no use, sweetheart. He can't help you."
She remained silent, preparing herself for his next attack while struggling to appear vulnerable. He'd caught Bobby offguard, and she couldn't help feeling guilty for that. Her eyes darted back to his still form and she willed him to waken. Still wielding the branch, her attacker followed her around the small clearing. "C'mon, beautiful. I'm bigger and stronger. You can't get away."
She hazarded another glance toward Goren, relieved to see him finally beginning to stir. Slowly, she backed away from their stalker, toward the bluff. He laughed, a menacing sound. "You cut off your only escape, back through them trees. You're done, sweetcake."
He tossed the branch to the side and, leering, advanced toward her. Making a sudden lunge, his hands gripped her shoulders and he barked a victory laugh. Waiting for just the right moment, she drew her knee up hard and fast, a smile of satisfaction touching her mouth when she knew she'd effectively met her mark. He gasped, eyes bugged, and dropped to the ground, rolling in agony as he drew his knees toward his stomach and retched. She shouted a warning as he continued to writhe and managed to roll himself right over the edge of the bluff. "Oh, crap..." she muttered, running to spot he had just vanished over.
Looking down, she expected to see nothing but trees. "This guy has to be Irish," she said to herself. There was one projection from the face of the cliff, a ledge big enough to support his weight and keep him from falling into the forest below. He wasn't moving and she figured he would stay put until she could get a rescue team there to fish him from the ledge. Step one on his way to jail...
"Bigger and stronger, maybe..." she called to him. "But definitely not smarter."
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When the branch slammed into his head, Goren's world exploded in a flash of blinding light, followed by utter nothingness. As the black slowly faded to gray, and the world returned to his stunned senses, the only thing his mind would register was that his partner was in danger. He struggled back to consciousness, forcing himself to his feet as soon as he could manage it. The world tilted oddly and he stumbled sideways a few steps, trying to clear his mind and find Eames. He heard something and turned toward the noise, but the sudden movement sent the world spinning and he dropped to his knees, fighting nausea. Closing his eyes didn't help any. He could make out the sound of a scuffle and had a hard time fighting down a rising panic. He struggled to his feet again, trying to force his vision to focus. He heard her voice and turning toward it, could make out her outline against the sky near the edge of the bluff. He managed a few unsteady steps toward her. "Easy," she said softly, suddenly looming close and closing her hands over his arms. Gently, she backed him up until he came into contact with a large boulder. Sliding down the face of the rock, he sat down with a groan.
His vision was finally clearing, but his head was throbbing and his stomach was still uncertain. "Are-are you okay?" he asked, reaching toward her.
She let him grasp her hand as she knelt at his side. "I'm fine. Let me look at your head."
He turned his head toward her, seeking to reassure himself that she wasn't hurt. She gently tapped the back of his head. "Hold still."
His vision cleared further and he began to raise a hand toward her, but stopped. What the hell am I doing? It's over. There's no need to act any more. We're back to being just partners...You are so clueless. There is no going back...No, there is no going forward. We're done with this...
Her fingers gently sifted through his hair, parting it away from the wound. "That'll need stitches," she said softly, drawing her hands away. He wanted to tell her not to stop, but he didn't. She dropped back onto her knees beside him. "How do you feel?"
"It's getting better. I'm all right." He tried to moisten dry lips as he looked around the clearing. "Where is he?"
"He decided to try his hand at cliff diving. He landed on a ledge about 15 feet below the rim. Some guys just can't do anything right." She sighed. "I guess I'd better make a call so we can get his stupid ass out of there."
All he could do was smile and watch her as she pulled out her phone and made the call. After identifying herself and explaining the situation, she looked for the sun and judged them to be "somewhere on a bluff above the southwestern shore of Lake George." When she put the phone away and leaned back against the rock beside him, she looked up at the sky and said, "We're lucky we have a signal out here."
"Are they sending someone?"
"Yes. First they'll send up a chopper to find our exact location. Then they'll send the rescue team to get Happy over there off the cliff face."
He nodded and leaned his head back against the rock. His mind was oddly silent, but the throbbing had abated and he no longer felt like he was going to lose his lunch. "Hey!" she said sharply.
He forced his eyes open, unaware he'd even closed them. "What?"
"Stay awake," she cajoled. "I'm bored."
"Bored..." he repeated. "Well, we can't have that. Uh...there's a deck of cards in the day pack."
"I'm not going to find pictures of naked women on them, am I?"
"No. I left that deck home."
She just stared at him and he felt a small rush of pleasure at surprising her. He laughed softly. "I'm joking, Eames."
She smiled. "You just...surprised me."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It's not any of my business."
"Do you want it to be?"
Where the hell did that come from and why did it come out of his mouth? crap...crap, crap, crap...I told you just to be quiet and stay out of this, but, no, you can't listen to me. You have to go overriding the only part of me that has any sense and...
His frantic thoughts fell silent when she shifted her position and laid a hand along his cheek. She met his eyes, searching, though he had no idea what she was searching for. Apparently, she found it. She smiled softly, her eyes glowing warm with a fire he never thought he would see there. Her lips gently pressed against his as her body moved closer. Sliding her upper body over his arm into contact with his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck. As she deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue along his, he softly groaned and sent caressing hands up her back, pulling her even closer.
The last part of him that retained the little sense he had left defected to the other side, joining his body and the rest of his mind on their downhill slide toward whatever awaited him at the bottom. He was done arguing with himself. It was over; he gave up. Told you so...leave me alone; I'm busy...
The first thing Eames noticed was that this man, while only average in height, was powerfully built. He probably had a good twenty pounds on her partner and could easily overpower her if she let him get that advantage, which she had no intention of doing. She moved away from the edge of the bluff as he came at her, raising the branch he'd used to disable Goren. She waited until the last second, as the branch came hurtling through the air toward her head, before diving out of the way of the makeshift weapon. Her assailant had not expected that and his momentum carried him, stumbling, toward the trees.
She glanced toward her fallen partner, concerned that he wasn't moving. A shout of rage drew her attention back to their suspect and she backed up as he came toward her. "It's no use, sweetheart. He can't help you."
She remained silent, preparing herself for his next attack while struggling to appear vulnerable. He'd caught Bobby offguard, and she couldn't help feeling guilty for that. Her eyes darted back to his still form and she willed him to waken. Still wielding the branch, her attacker followed her around the small clearing. "C'mon, beautiful. I'm bigger and stronger. You can't get away."
She hazarded another glance toward Goren, relieved to see him finally beginning to stir. Slowly, she backed away from their stalker, toward the bluff. He laughed, a menacing sound. "You cut off your only escape, back through them trees. You're done, sweetcake."
He tossed the branch to the side and, leering, advanced toward her. Making a sudden lunge, his hands gripped her shoulders and he barked a victory laugh. Waiting for just the right moment, she drew her knee up hard and fast, a smile of satisfaction touching her mouth when she knew she'd effectively met her mark. He gasped, eyes bugged, and dropped to the ground, rolling in agony as he drew his knees toward his stomach and retched. She shouted a warning as he continued to writhe and managed to roll himself right over the edge of the bluff. "Oh, crap..." she muttered, running to spot he had just vanished over.
Looking down, she expected to see nothing but trees. "This guy has to be Irish," she said to herself. There was one projection from the face of the cliff, a ledge big enough to support his weight and keep him from falling into the forest below. He wasn't moving and she figured he would stay put until she could get a rescue team there to fish him from the ledge. Step one on his way to jail...
"Bigger and stronger, maybe..." she called to him. "But definitely not smarter."
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When the branch slammed into his head, Goren's world exploded in a flash of blinding light, followed by utter nothingness. As the black slowly faded to gray, and the world returned to his stunned senses, the only thing his mind would register was that his partner was in danger. He struggled back to consciousness, forcing himself to his feet as soon as he could manage it. The world tilted oddly and he stumbled sideways a few steps, trying to clear his mind and find Eames. He heard something and turned toward the noise, but the sudden movement sent the world spinning and he dropped to his knees, fighting nausea. Closing his eyes didn't help any. He could make out the sound of a scuffle and had a hard time fighting down a rising panic. He struggled to his feet again, trying to force his vision to focus. He heard her voice and turning toward it, could make out her outline against the sky near the edge of the bluff. He managed a few unsteady steps toward her. "Easy," she said softly, suddenly looming close and closing her hands over his arms. Gently, she backed him up until he came into contact with a large boulder. Sliding down the face of the rock, he sat down with a groan.
His vision was finally clearing, but his head was throbbing and his stomach was still uncertain. "Are-are you okay?" he asked, reaching toward her.
She let him grasp her hand as she knelt at his side. "I'm fine. Let me look at your head."
He turned his head toward her, seeking to reassure himself that she wasn't hurt. She gently tapped the back of his head. "Hold still."
His vision cleared further and he began to raise a hand toward her, but stopped. What the hell am I doing? It's over. There's no need to act any more. We're back to being just partners...You are so clueless. There is no going back...No, there is no going forward. We're done with this...
Her fingers gently sifted through his hair, parting it away from the wound. "That'll need stitches," she said softly, drawing her hands away. He wanted to tell her not to stop, but he didn't. She dropped back onto her knees beside him. "How do you feel?"
"It's getting better. I'm all right." He tried to moisten dry lips as he looked around the clearing. "Where is he?"
"He decided to try his hand at cliff diving. He landed on a ledge about 15 feet below the rim. Some guys just can't do anything right." She sighed. "I guess I'd better make a call so we can get his stupid ass out of there."
All he could do was smile and watch her as she pulled out her phone and made the call. After identifying herself and explaining the situation, she looked for the sun and judged them to be "somewhere on a bluff above the southwestern shore of Lake George." When she put the phone away and leaned back against the rock beside him, she looked up at the sky and said, "We're lucky we have a signal out here."
"Are they sending someone?"
"Yes. First they'll send up a chopper to find our exact location. Then they'll send the rescue team to get Happy over there off the cliff face."
He nodded and leaned his head back against the rock. His mind was oddly silent, but the throbbing had abated and he no longer felt like he was going to lose his lunch. "Hey!" she said sharply.
He forced his eyes open, unaware he'd even closed them. "What?"
"Stay awake," she cajoled. "I'm bored."
"Bored..." he repeated. "Well, we can't have that. Uh...there's a deck of cards in the day pack."
"I'm not going to find pictures of naked women on them, am I?"
"No. I left that deck home."
She just stared at him and he felt a small rush of pleasure at surprising her. He laughed softly. "I'm joking, Eames."
She smiled. "You just...surprised me."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It's not any of my business."
"Do you want it to be?"
Where the hell did that come from and why did it come out of his mouth? crap...crap, crap, crap...I told you just to be quiet and stay out of this, but, no, you can't listen to me. You have to go overriding the only part of me that has any sense and...
His frantic thoughts fell silent when she shifted her position and laid a hand along his cheek. She met his eyes, searching, though he had no idea what she was searching for. Apparently, she found it. She smiled softly, her eyes glowing warm with a fire he never thought he would see there. Her lips gently pressed against his as her body moved closer. Sliding her upper body over his arm into contact with his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck. As she deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue along his, he softly groaned and sent caressing hands up her back, pulling her even closer.
The last part of him that retained the little sense he had left defected to the other side, joining his body and the rest of his mind on their downhill slide toward whatever awaited him at the bottom. He was done arguing with himself. It was over; he gave up. Told you so...leave me alone; I'm busy...
Chapter 12: Calming the Storm
Late that evening, after a three hour visit to the emergency room for ten stitches while his partner talked with the locals, Goren had just started to doze when her voice drew him back to her. "Bobby?"
"Hm?"
"You didn't ask about what the locals had to say."
He took a moment to process her statement. At the time, he couldn't have cared less...but the importance of it began to penetrate his mind. "I, uh, had...more important things on my mind. What did they say?"
He couldn't force himself to concentrate on her words when her hand was skimming over his skin like that, so he covered it with his own to still its path and said, "Uh, what?"
She smiled. "I said, they are going to hold him for us. I convinced them to let us interrogate him tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh. Good. Was he badly hurt?"
"He'll live. If we're lucky he'll never be able to father children, but he'll live."
He laughed softly. "Remind me never to get you that mad at me."
"Oh, you'll know long before I get to that point. I don't think I could ever bring myself to do that to you though."
He reached for a nearby water bottle as his senses gradually became aware of more than just her. "Oh? Why not?"
"Because your babies would just be too adorable to miss."
In mid-swallow, he choked on the water. His curiosity was going to do him in one of these days. She struggled not to laugh as she pounded his back. When he got his breath back, he stared at her. She just gave him an innocent look as he accused, "You're trying to kill me."
She kissed him. "Not at all. You asked."
She had him there. And he was too tired to argue the point. She pulled her sleeping bag toward them and unzipped it, draping it over their bodies. She could see the deep fatigue in his eyes. "Go to sleep, Bobby," she said softly.
When he began to protest, she silenced him with a soft kiss. Her hands had a different mission than they'd had earlier. Instead of raising passion, they soothed and relaxed. He struggled against the overwhelming exhaustion that covered him like a blanket, but it was a brief struggle, thanks to her. It didn't take long before he was asleep.
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A/N: This chapter's been revised from the original, mainly because there are so many non-shippers here. If anyone wants to read the original, it's posted on FFN. Thanks :-)
Late that evening, after a three hour visit to the emergency room for ten stitches while his partner talked with the locals, Goren had just started to doze when her voice drew him back to her. "Bobby?"
"Hm?"
"You didn't ask about what the locals had to say."
He took a moment to process her statement. At the time, he couldn't have cared less...but the importance of it began to penetrate his mind. "I, uh, had...more important things on my mind. What did they say?"
He couldn't force himself to concentrate on her words when her hand was skimming over his skin like that, so he covered it with his own to still its path and said, "Uh, what?"
She smiled. "I said, they are going to hold him for us. I convinced them to let us interrogate him tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh. Good. Was he badly hurt?"
"He'll live. If we're lucky he'll never be able to father children, but he'll live."
He laughed softly. "Remind me never to get you that mad at me."
"Oh, you'll know long before I get to that point. I don't think I could ever bring myself to do that to you though."
He reached for a nearby water bottle as his senses gradually became aware of more than just her. "Oh? Why not?"
"Because your babies would just be too adorable to miss."
In mid-swallow, he choked on the water. His curiosity was going to do him in one of these days. She struggled not to laugh as she pounded his back. When he got his breath back, he stared at her. She just gave him an innocent look as he accused, "You're trying to kill me."
She kissed him. "Not at all. You asked."
She had him there. And he was too tired to argue the point. She pulled her sleeping bag toward them and unzipped it, draping it over their bodies. She could see the deep fatigue in his eyes. "Go to sleep, Bobby," she said softly.
When he began to protest, she silenced him with a soft kiss. Her hands had a different mission than they'd had earlier. Instead of raising passion, they soothed and relaxed. He struggled against the overwhelming exhaustion that covered him like a blanket, but it was a brief struggle, thanks to her. It didn't take long before he was asleep.
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A/N: This chapter's been revised from the original, mainly because there are so many non-shippers here. If anyone wants to read the original, it's posted on FFN. Thanks :-)
Chapter 13: Stupidity Should Be Painful
The interrogation room at the local jail was half the size of theirs, with no two-way mirror set in the wall. A small intercom afforded the sheriff and the local prosecutor the opportunity to listen in and hear what transpired. Sitting in a chair on the far side of the room was their suspect. When Eames came into the room, he scrambled to the far side of the room and pointed at her. "Stay away from me," he shrieked.
She looked at Goren and grinned. He gave her half a smile; he wasn't feeling well. His head was pounding and he resented the fact that he felt hungover without first having the opportunity to get drunk. He pulled a chair out for her, then grabbed a second one for himself, pointing to the upended chair their suspect had launched himself from when he saw Eames. "J-just sit down and quit screaming. She's not going to hurt you, but I will if you don't stop that."
Clamping his mouth shut, the man walked warily to his chair, turning it upright and easing himself into it, being certain to keep out of range of the two detectives. "Cops," he said, a note of wonder in his voice as he shook his head. "No way...who'd-a ever thought that." Pointing from one to the other, he said, "You ain't married?"
Goren shook his head. "No. We're partners."
"You ain't even datin'?"
"No," Goren repeated, patience wearing thin. "We're partners."
"So that was all...a freaking act?"
"Yes, and watch yourself in front of my partner."
Again he looked from one to the other. "You guys are good," he said.
Goren closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He just wanted to get this over with so he could find something, anything, that would ease the pounding in his head, which existed courtesy of the man seated across from him. He was beginning to find wonder in the fact that the guy had enough going for him to have managed to take him out at all. I guess it doesn't take half a brain to use a stick to club a guy...
Eames took over. "You said your name was 'Tank McRandy.' Give us a break. What's your given name?"
"That's my given name. It was given to me by my buddies when we was in high school."
Goren looked up. "Did you finish high school, Tank?"
"Nah. Two turns in the tenth grade was enough. I said no thanks to the third."
"But you played football."
"Yup. All four years."
"Four...you spent two years in ninth grade, too, didn't you?"
"How'd you know?"
Goren waved a hand irritably. "Lucky guess."
Eames was careful to hide her amusement from both men. Tank wouldn't get it and Bobby was already irritable. All three of them looked toward the door when it opened. A deputy stepped in, handed Eames a file and left. She opened it, studied the first page and then handed it to her partner, no longer able to conceal her amusement.
Wondering just what had triggered that familiar smirk on her face, he opened the file, studying the first page, then flipping through the ones that followed. He handed the file back to her and leveled a steady gaze at their suspect. "Leslie Everson."
Tank's face lost its color. "How'd you know that?"
With a shake of his throbbing head, Goren closed his eyes. Eames took over again. "You had no idea that your fingerprints would bring this to our attention?"
"Uh, what is it?"
"Your criminal record," Goren answered, taking care to keep his irritation from his voice.
"My what?"
Goren looked at his partner with an expression that asked Is this guy for real? Sliding the file back in front of him, he read: "June 1985, possession of marijuana, DUI, resisting arrest. February 1986, DUI, resisting arrest. September 1986, drunken disorderly, resisting arrest. January 1987, criminal assault..." He looked at Eames. "Want to take a shot in the dark?"
"Resisting arrest?"
"How'd you guess?"
"I'm psychic."
Tank stared at her. "You are?"
Eames rolled her eyes. Goren closed the file and looked steadily at Tank, who looked confused. He was pointing at the file and had a look on his face that reminded Goren of a toddler watching a magician. Tank stammered, "Bu-bu-but...I didn't do none of that stuff around here."
Goren was in no mood to explain anything to this guy. He was still annoyed by the pounding headache he'd caused him, not to mention the fact that he was compounding it right now. "Be that as it may—that's not why we're here right now. Do you have any idea what charges you're facing right now?"
"Is getting my damn balls rammed up into my throat a charge?"
Goren frowned. "I asked you once to watch yourself around my partner. I won't ask again."
"I ain't apologizin' till she does."
Goren stared at him. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over the stubble on his face. Was this guy for real? he wondered again. Could he really be that stupid? "A-apologize? She doesn't owe you any apology."
"I didn't hurt her."
Gingerly touching the throbbing injury on the side of his head, Goren sighed heavily, choosing not to address that last statement. He was about down to his last nerve and this guy was getting on it, big time. "The charges against you include six counts of assault, two rapes, assaulting a police officer, and threatening another."
"Who did I assault?"
Goren looked at Eames, near the end of his currently short supply of patience. She was struggling not to laugh and he could see that. His irritation increased, though it wasn't directed at her. He was not in a position to see the humor in their current situation. Getting to his feet, he began to pace. Eames looked at their suspect. "Do you not recall clubbing my partner with a branch?"
"He woulda hurt me if I didn't."
"Mr. Everson..."
"McRandy," he corrected.
She was not going to call him by his chosen moniker. "Mr. Everson," she continued, her voice even as she stared at him. "You attacked two couples on their honeymoons, and a pair of brothers at the same campground we are staying at. Then you attacked my partner and me."
"Brothers," Tank snorted. "They wasn't brothers. They was fags."
Goren slammed his hand on the table and leaned toward Tank, who jumped hard enough to knock over his chair again and send himself sprawling onto the floor. Scrambling to his feet, he backed himself into the corner, fists raised. "Police brutality," he screeched.
With an exaggerated sigh and a prayer for patience, Goren looked at his amused partner, then back at the bulky man cowering in the corner. "Scaring you is not brutality..." He stopped himself before he said something he would regret. "Tank," he completed, forcing himself to be congenial.
He was not used to conducting an interrogation this way. Generally, it was Eames who got annoyed and he with the unending supply of patience. Of course, he was also used to interrogating suspects with more intelligence than the chair they sat in. The guy watched too much television and 'brutality' was probably the biggest word in his vocabulary. It was obvious he had no idea exactly what it meant. Goren started to stand. "Now, if you'd like a demonstration of brutality..."
A gentle hand on his arm kept him in his place and he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. Eames resumed control of the interrogation. "Sit down, Mr. Everson, or I'll let him demonstrate."
Warily, Tank returned to his seat. Eames went on. "Do you want to tell us why you attacked those couples?"
"Same reason I went after you." He jerked a thumb toward Goren. "Why should guys like him get gals like you? Where's my chance? I saw what I liked and I took it. The fags just annoyed me."
Goren was having a hard time containing his anger now. His voice was tight. "What do you think gives you the right to violate a person like that?"
Tank just stared at him. "What?"
The big cop pinched the bridge of his nose and began counting to himself. He got to ten and kept going. Twenty brought no sense of calm. Neither did thirty...or forty... Eames translated. "Who do you think you are that you can just take what you want?"
"I told you. I'm Tank McRandy," he grinned. "If you'da just given me a chance, I think you woulda liked it, like them other gals did."
Goren got to his feet. "Come on, Eames. We're done here."
She wondered what had taken him so long. She followed him from the interrogation room, muttered, "Excuse me," and walked away. Goren stopped in the doorway of the adjoining room. "Do you have enough to work with there, counsellor?"
"Plenty, detective. Not particularly challenging, was he?"
"More challenging than you know," he complained. "Good luck with that one. He's, uh, clueless..."
The sheriff laughed. "That's being kind, detective. Where did your partner go?"
"She, uh...she's being tactful. She didn't want me to see her dissolve into laughter. I'm...not in the greatest mood right now."
"Maybe you should go back to your motel and lay down. You don't look so hot."
"Uh, we're staying at the campground...and that's a good idea. We'll be around for another day or so, if you need us." He shot a glance toward the interrogation room, hoping they wouldn't. "But I think you can handle him just fine. Thanks for letting us...talk to him."
The sheriff extended a hand and smiled. "Thank you for doing it. I think I would have smacked him about halfway through that."
Goren gave him a weary smile. "Don't think I didn't want to."
A quiet laugh and the man added, "I think we can build a strong case without your testimony. We have your statements if we need them, but I don't think we will."
"I appreciate that...really." He hesitated on his way to the door. "Did he really refuse counsel?"
"Sure did. Said he could represent himself."
Goren slowly shook his head, feeling the first stirring of pity for the guy. Remembering the interrogation he'd just been subjected to was enough to chase it away. "Figures. Have fun with him. He's a...rarity. Thank God."
He could hear the two men laughing as he headed for the parking lot, where Eames waited for him. He hadn't meant that as a joke.
She was standing beside the car, composed, he was relieved to see. They got into the car and she backed out of the spot and pulled out of the parking lot. She started snickering again. "That wasn't an act, was it?"
"Unfortunately, no."
She nodded her head slowly. "Then he deserved what he got. Stupidity like that should be painful."
With that statement, she finally got a laugh from him. Holding her hand out, she was pleased when he took it. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help laughing. He was funny enough by himself, but watching you try to handle that level of stupid was more than I could take."
"You've had your entertainment for the week, then," he grumbled. "I just really need to lay down."
"Your head still hurts?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. I don't think it's entirely from getting clubbed, either."
"You don't handle stupid well," she observed.
"I guess not. It's been awhile since I've had to try."
She squeezed his hand. "Maybe a nap will do you good."
He looked at her sideways and grinned. Maybe that was just what he needed...and sleep was not what he had in mind any more. Her returning smile told him she was thinking the same thing. His headache began to fade.
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It had been a week and Deakins still laughed about the description of the interrogation of Tank McRandy that Eames had given him. Even more amusing was Goren's reaction to it. He felt bad that Goren had gotten hurt, but Eames had more than made up for that when she took the guy down. Like Goren, he had learned long ago that Eames could take care of herself...and her partner. No one messed with either of them without calling down the wrath of the other. If the world was fortunate, Mr. McRandy would never procreate.
Looking out across the squad room he watched Goren and Eames. Goren looked up from the file in front of him and said something to her. She laughed and threw a pen at him, which he caught, laughing with her. Whatever tension had existed before they went to Lake George, they had obviously worked it out. Their interactions were once more easy and affectionate. That was what he liked to see. He didn't fully realize how much he had missed it. Like Goren, he had been so glad to have Eames back from maternity leave, he had overlooked a lot, until it could no longer be ignored. But now the tension was gone and Goren was back to his normal self. What ever that was, he thought with a laugh.
Returning to his desk, he flipped open a file as his phone rang. Lifting the receiver, he carried on a brief conversation and hung up. Another case in a neverending stream that allowed them to keep their jobs. Every up had its down. He got up and walked back to the door.
fin
The interrogation room at the local jail was half the size of theirs, with no two-way mirror set in the wall. A small intercom afforded the sheriff and the local prosecutor the opportunity to listen in and hear what transpired. Sitting in a chair on the far side of the room was their suspect. When Eames came into the room, he scrambled to the far side of the room and pointed at her. "Stay away from me," he shrieked.
She looked at Goren and grinned. He gave her half a smile; he wasn't feeling well. His head was pounding and he resented the fact that he felt hungover without first having the opportunity to get drunk. He pulled a chair out for her, then grabbed a second one for himself, pointing to the upended chair their suspect had launched himself from when he saw Eames. "J-just sit down and quit screaming. She's not going to hurt you, but I will if you don't stop that."
Clamping his mouth shut, the man walked warily to his chair, turning it upright and easing himself into it, being certain to keep out of range of the two detectives. "Cops," he said, a note of wonder in his voice as he shook his head. "No way...who'd-a ever thought that." Pointing from one to the other, he said, "You ain't married?"
Goren shook his head. "No. We're partners."
"You ain't even datin'?"
"No," Goren repeated, patience wearing thin. "We're partners."
"So that was all...a freaking act?"
"Yes, and watch yourself in front of my partner."
Again he looked from one to the other. "You guys are good," he said.
Goren closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He just wanted to get this over with so he could find something, anything, that would ease the pounding in his head, which existed courtesy of the man seated across from him. He was beginning to find wonder in the fact that the guy had enough going for him to have managed to take him out at all. I guess it doesn't take half a brain to use a stick to club a guy...
Eames took over. "You said your name was 'Tank McRandy.' Give us a break. What's your given name?"
"That's my given name. It was given to me by my buddies when we was in high school."
Goren looked up. "Did you finish high school, Tank?"
"Nah. Two turns in the tenth grade was enough. I said no thanks to the third."
"But you played football."
"Yup. All four years."
"Four...you spent two years in ninth grade, too, didn't you?"
"How'd you know?"
Goren waved a hand irritably. "Lucky guess."
Eames was careful to hide her amusement from both men. Tank wouldn't get it and Bobby was already irritable. All three of them looked toward the door when it opened. A deputy stepped in, handed Eames a file and left. She opened it, studied the first page and then handed it to her partner, no longer able to conceal her amusement.
Wondering just what had triggered that familiar smirk on her face, he opened the file, studying the first page, then flipping through the ones that followed. He handed the file back to her and leveled a steady gaze at their suspect. "Leslie Everson."
Tank's face lost its color. "How'd you know that?"
With a shake of his throbbing head, Goren closed his eyes. Eames took over again. "You had no idea that your fingerprints would bring this to our attention?"
"Uh, what is it?"
"Your criminal record," Goren answered, taking care to keep his irritation from his voice.
"My what?"
Goren looked at his partner with an expression that asked Is this guy for real? Sliding the file back in front of him, he read: "June 1985, possession of marijuana, DUI, resisting arrest. February 1986, DUI, resisting arrest. September 1986, drunken disorderly, resisting arrest. January 1987, criminal assault..." He looked at Eames. "Want to take a shot in the dark?"
"Resisting arrest?"
"How'd you guess?"
"I'm psychic."
Tank stared at her. "You are?"
Eames rolled her eyes. Goren closed the file and looked steadily at Tank, who looked confused. He was pointing at the file and had a look on his face that reminded Goren of a toddler watching a magician. Tank stammered, "Bu-bu-but...I didn't do none of that stuff around here."
Goren was in no mood to explain anything to this guy. He was still annoyed by the pounding headache he'd caused him, not to mention the fact that he was compounding it right now. "Be that as it may—that's not why we're here right now. Do you have any idea what charges you're facing right now?"
"Is getting my damn balls rammed up into my throat a charge?"
Goren frowned. "I asked you once to watch yourself around my partner. I won't ask again."
"I ain't apologizin' till she does."
Goren stared at him. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over the stubble on his face. Was this guy for real? he wondered again. Could he really be that stupid? "A-apologize? She doesn't owe you any apology."
"I didn't hurt her."
Gingerly touching the throbbing injury on the side of his head, Goren sighed heavily, choosing not to address that last statement. He was about down to his last nerve and this guy was getting on it, big time. "The charges against you include six counts of assault, two rapes, assaulting a police officer, and threatening another."
"Who did I assault?"
Goren looked at Eames, near the end of his currently short supply of patience. She was struggling not to laugh and he could see that. His irritation increased, though it wasn't directed at her. He was not in a position to see the humor in their current situation. Getting to his feet, he began to pace. Eames looked at their suspect. "Do you not recall clubbing my partner with a branch?"
"He woulda hurt me if I didn't."
"Mr. Everson..."
"McRandy," he corrected.
She was not going to call him by his chosen moniker. "Mr. Everson," she continued, her voice even as she stared at him. "You attacked two couples on their honeymoons, and a pair of brothers at the same campground we are staying at. Then you attacked my partner and me."
"Brothers," Tank snorted. "They wasn't brothers. They was fags."
Goren slammed his hand on the table and leaned toward Tank, who jumped hard enough to knock over his chair again and send himself sprawling onto the floor. Scrambling to his feet, he backed himself into the corner, fists raised. "Police brutality," he screeched.
With an exaggerated sigh and a prayer for patience, Goren looked at his amused partner, then back at the bulky man cowering in the corner. "Scaring you is not brutality..." He stopped himself before he said something he would regret. "Tank," he completed, forcing himself to be congenial.
He was not used to conducting an interrogation this way. Generally, it was Eames who got annoyed and he with the unending supply of patience. Of course, he was also used to interrogating suspects with more intelligence than the chair they sat in. The guy watched too much television and 'brutality' was probably the biggest word in his vocabulary. It was obvious he had no idea exactly what it meant. Goren started to stand. "Now, if you'd like a demonstration of brutality..."
A gentle hand on his arm kept him in his place and he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. Eames resumed control of the interrogation. "Sit down, Mr. Everson, or I'll let him demonstrate."
Warily, Tank returned to his seat. Eames went on. "Do you want to tell us why you attacked those couples?"
"Same reason I went after you." He jerked a thumb toward Goren. "Why should guys like him get gals like you? Where's my chance? I saw what I liked and I took it. The fags just annoyed me."
Goren was having a hard time containing his anger now. His voice was tight. "What do you think gives you the right to violate a person like that?"
Tank just stared at him. "What?"
The big cop pinched the bridge of his nose and began counting to himself. He got to ten and kept going. Twenty brought no sense of calm. Neither did thirty...or forty... Eames translated. "Who do you think you are that you can just take what you want?"
"I told you. I'm Tank McRandy," he grinned. "If you'da just given me a chance, I think you woulda liked it, like them other gals did."
Goren got to his feet. "Come on, Eames. We're done here."
She wondered what had taken him so long. She followed him from the interrogation room, muttered, "Excuse me," and walked away. Goren stopped in the doorway of the adjoining room. "Do you have enough to work with there, counsellor?"
"Plenty, detective. Not particularly challenging, was he?"
"More challenging than you know," he complained. "Good luck with that one. He's, uh, clueless..."
The sheriff laughed. "That's being kind, detective. Where did your partner go?"
"She, uh...she's being tactful. She didn't want me to see her dissolve into laughter. I'm...not in the greatest mood right now."
"Maybe you should go back to your motel and lay down. You don't look so hot."
"Uh, we're staying at the campground...and that's a good idea. We'll be around for another day or so, if you need us." He shot a glance toward the interrogation room, hoping they wouldn't. "But I think you can handle him just fine. Thanks for letting us...talk to him."
The sheriff extended a hand and smiled. "Thank you for doing it. I think I would have smacked him about halfway through that."
Goren gave him a weary smile. "Don't think I didn't want to."
A quiet laugh and the man added, "I think we can build a strong case without your testimony. We have your statements if we need them, but I don't think we will."
"I appreciate that...really." He hesitated on his way to the door. "Did he really refuse counsel?"
"Sure did. Said he could represent himself."
Goren slowly shook his head, feeling the first stirring of pity for the guy. Remembering the interrogation he'd just been subjected to was enough to chase it away. "Figures. Have fun with him. He's a...rarity. Thank God."
He could hear the two men laughing as he headed for the parking lot, where Eames waited for him. He hadn't meant that as a joke.
She was standing beside the car, composed, he was relieved to see. They got into the car and she backed out of the spot and pulled out of the parking lot. She started snickering again. "That wasn't an act, was it?"
"Unfortunately, no."
She nodded her head slowly. "Then he deserved what he got. Stupidity like that should be painful."
With that statement, she finally got a laugh from him. Holding her hand out, she was pleased when he took it. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help laughing. He was funny enough by himself, but watching you try to handle that level of stupid was more than I could take."
"You've had your entertainment for the week, then," he grumbled. "I just really need to lay down."
"Your head still hurts?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. I don't think it's entirely from getting clubbed, either."
"You don't handle stupid well," she observed.
"I guess not. It's been awhile since I've had to try."
She squeezed his hand. "Maybe a nap will do you good."
He looked at her sideways and grinned. Maybe that was just what he needed...and sleep was not what he had in mind any more. Her returning smile told him she was thinking the same thing. His headache began to fade.
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It had been a week and Deakins still laughed about the description of the interrogation of Tank McRandy that Eames had given him. Even more amusing was Goren's reaction to it. He felt bad that Goren had gotten hurt, but Eames had more than made up for that when she took the guy down. Like Goren, he had learned long ago that Eames could take care of herself...and her partner. No one messed with either of them without calling down the wrath of the other. If the world was fortunate, Mr. McRandy would never procreate.
Looking out across the squad room he watched Goren and Eames. Goren looked up from the file in front of him and said something to her. She laughed and threw a pen at him, which he caught, laughing with her. Whatever tension had existed before they went to Lake George, they had obviously worked it out. Their interactions were once more easy and affectionate. That was what he liked to see. He didn't fully realize how much he had missed it. Like Goren, he had been so glad to have Eames back from maternity leave, he had overlooked a lot, until it could no longer be ignored. But now the tension was gone and Goren was back to his normal self. What ever that was, he thought with a laugh.
Returning to his desk, he flipped open a file as his phone rang. Lifting the receiver, he carried on a brief conversation and hung up. Another case in a neverending stream that allowed them to keep their jobs. Every up had its down. He got up and walked back to the door.
fin
I was laughing my head off with most of this one, and when I wasn’t laughing my fool head off, I was off on some Dangerous Tangents of my own – I kept having Stray Thoughts – so much so that I probably could have fallen in love with the ‘shipper’ version as much as this one.
I read this one last night too, and I’ve got to say - I’ve gone through the gamut of emotions and I’m done wore out. Guess I’m going to have to go to work now and get some rest.
I read this one last night too, and I’ve got to say - I’ve gone through the gamut of emotions and I’m done wore out. Guess I’m going to have to go to work now and get some rest.
HYSTERICAL!!!!!!! Poor Bobby! I loved the arguing in his head with himself! I'm a staunch NoRomo, especially as far as the show goes, but anyone who can write them this well in cyberspace can have at it. This was so funny!
Thanks for sharing it here.
Thanks for sharing it here.
This is yet another great story. You write humour really well, even if you usually write angst. I loved the interogation scene, that was so funny I was ROFL. 
Good job, and thanks for sharing. I never write and rarely read shippy pieces, but you have a very good way with words.
Good job, and thanks for sharing. I never write and rarely read shippy pieces, but you have a very good way with words.
I love this story, especially Bobby fighting himself in his head. This is one of my favorite BA fics and definately a guilty pleasure.
He apart the accommodation aperture and pushed it open, absolution her access first. It took a moment for him to apprehend his eyes were watching her ass move from ancillary to ancillary as he followed her. Great...he no best even had a clue. The allocation of his apperception that retained its faculty was awfully outnumbered by the blow of him. He'd larboard agitation abaft continued ago. Now he was flirting with disaster.
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Event tent
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Event tent
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