Title: The Waiting Room
Author: Medie
email: [email protected]
Rating: PG
Keywords: Eames POV, Injured Goren
Summary: Eames takes a ride on the emotional roller coaster while
Goren's in surgery. Fortunately, she's not alone.
Author's note: My first completed CI fic. *G* Not exactly sure where
it came from but here it is.
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of Law & Order: Criminal
Intent belong to their creators. Gin belongs to me.
Thanks to Aphreal (aka Kacey *G*) for reading it over and providing a
great beta (not to mention encouragement!)
**********
Whoever said silence is golden is a damn liar. It's so quiet, the
silence hanging about us is so thick and heavy as to be oppressive.
The weight of it bears down like a yoke about our necks, keeping our
gazes on the floor.
Or, in my case, the coffee cups in my hands. Its empty, but I don't
especially care. I stare into it like Madame Cleo stares at her tarot
cards. The damn cup gives up about as many answers as the so-called
`shamaness' does too.
Sitting next to me, Gin shifts position, the sound of her jeans
moving on the hard plastic just manages to accentuate the bone-weary
sigh that escapes her.
I don't begrudge her the position she's in. I grew up with it.
Everytime my old man got hurt on the job, us kids got bundled up and
trucked down to the hospital to wait with Mom. That wasn't so bad
when I was little and didn't fully understand what was going on but
when I got older? I knew. I hated it.
Now, looking at Gin's wan, pinched features, I can almost see my
mother's overlaid on hers and I feel very much like the scared
teenager I'd been.
I hate it.
"Maybe you should get some rest," I suggest softly, hoping Gin'll
take the suggestion and try to sleep. I don't know who needs her to
rest more, her or me. I can't help the fact my partner is in surgery
fighting for his life, but I can see to it that Gin's taken care of.
God knows, she's not thinking about herself right now. Her mind is
focused one hundred percent on Bobby.
"I'm not tired." Gin replies quietly, without looking out from the
sheltered curtain of her hair.
"No," I agree. "You're exhausted."
"I can't leave." She insists. "I can't."
"You don't have to." I console. "They've got a room you can use." I'd
expected her to use that excuse and was prepared for it. Not that
it's really an excuse. Virginia Alexander isn't a woman who depends
on flimsy excuses when it comes to her relationship with Goren and
has a habit of expecting everyone else to understand that. He does so
really that's the only thing that matters. They're quite secure with
the connection between them, more so than couples that have been
together longer than they've been alive. But when you consider that
connection, it's obvious why. It's so intense it's practically
tangible, it reverberates back and forth between them like some sort
of feedback loop. Their relationship is incredible but what's really
incredible is the reaction people have when they find out about it.
It's such a foreign concept to them that Bobby Goren could even exist
in a long-term relationship with anything other than a homicide
investigation.
You've gotta give him credit for it. The guy is an absolute master
when it comes to the psychology stuff. That's why it's no surprise to
me that he's very effectively keeping his professional and personal
lives separate. If he hadn't forgotten his case one morning, I
wouldn't have even known about Gin. As it was, when she brought it in
to him, I thought she was his sister or something. That wrong
assumption lasted just as long as it took for me to see the look in
his eyes when he saw her. Definitely not the way a man looks at his
sister.
"I'll sleep later." Gin sits back, pushing her hands through her hair
before resting her head against the wall. "I want to be here when
they bring him out of surgery." Her hands shake lightly as she rests
them on her thigh.
"I'll wake you." I promise gently. "Gin, if you don't rest soon,
you'll collapse. You know about this sort of thing, you'll crash if
you keep pushing it. Bobby needs you to take care of yourself."
She looks at me, smiling shakily. "I know. I'm not handling this
well, am I?" She sighs. "Some therapist, hmm? You'd think a
psychiatrist would be able to deal with the fear and stress."
"You're allowed to be scared." I reassure, resting a hand on hers.
"You love him."
"He's everything." She whispers, tears shining in her eyelashes. "I
can't..." Words desert her and she gives a shuddering sigh.
"He's going to be fine." I assure, telling myself as much as I'm
telling her. The truth is, I'm as scared as she is, but at the
moment, my fear has to take a backseat. We can't both be falling
apart right now.
I rub her shoulder gently. "You need to get some rest, Gin. You can't
keep this up much longer. If you don't lie down, you're going to fall
down. Goren'll have my head if you end up collapsing from
exhaustion."
She responds to my wry smile with a pale version of her own. "Can't
have that." She murmurs. "Who'll keep him out of trouble if you
aren't there?"
"Who indeed." I reply softly.
A knowing look appears in Gin's eyes, a look I recognize all too
well. She must have gotten it from Goren, it's got him written all
over it. "This isn't your fault, you know that. Right, Alex?"
"I know." I respond after some moments pause. "Logically, I know
that."
"But it doesn't change how you feel." Gin nods. "I know."
We share a rueful smile and I'm struck by the moment. How many times
has this scenario been played out in how many hospitals? A wounded
officer, fighting for life while his partner and girlfriend sit
together in a waiting room, battling their own fears and making
bargains with God. How many?
Too many.
"He'll be fine." I say decisively, repeating my earlier assurances.
"He doesn't get a choice in the matter."
With a hint of melancholy, Gin replies. "No, he doesn't."
----
I'll say this for Goren's taste in women, he likes `em stubborn, I've
never met another woman as stubborn as myself, until Gin that is. She
fought her own exhaustion longer than I would have ever thought
possible. She finally fell asleep, sitting up on that damn plastic
chair, facing the doorway. I would have thought she was still awake
if she hadn't nearly fallen over when I touched her.
It took some doing, but I finally managed to get her stretched out
across a couple chairs, covered in Goren's coat. On her, it looks
like a blanket, no surprise there. He dwarfs *everyone*.
So now, I'm sitting here across from her now, staring at that coat.
As much as I like Gin, I wish that coat was on it's owner, not her. I
hate this, I hate the waiting. I hate feeling helpless. I'm not the
helpless type. I want to *do* something!
But there's nothing I can do. Not a damn thing.
"Detective Eames?"
The soft voice of the doctor catches my attention and I look over.
"Yes?"
The older man moves closer, hesitant to wake Gin, and whispers.
"Detective Goren is out of surgery."
Instantly I'm on my feet, drawing him out the door. "And?"
"He's doing remarkably well." The surgeon beams. "He's a strong,
young man."
"Yeah, he is." I reply proudly, acting like Bobby's my kid and not my
partner. But then, given the way he can sometimes remind me of a
child, who's to say he isn't? "Can I see him?"
He looks over my shoulder. "What about Dr. Alexander?"
"She's exhausted, she needs to sleep." I tell him firmly, giving an
unspoken order to leave her where she is. I may not be Gin's family,
I'm not Goren's either, but I'll protect them both like I am. They
have the habit of forgetting to take care of themselves and that's
where I come in. I'm not the mother hen type but when it comes to
Goren and, by extension, Gin, I'll do what I have to. "She'll be
sleeping for a while, in the meantime, I'd like to see him."
"Of course, Detective," The doctor acquiesces. "This way."
—
He looks the same. I don't know what I'd expected but he looks the
same. Rigged up with equipment but it's still Goren. He's just lying
there with his eyes closed and looks for all the world like he's
trying to figure out some suspect or where a piece of evidence fits,
not recovering from major surgery.
"Hey."
He doesn't answer. Yep, definitely trying to figure out something. He
never answers me when he's doing that. He doesn't do it to be rude,
that's not his style, it's just him. He gets so focused in on
something, he tends to forget there's anyone else in the room. Anyone
else in the world actually.
If I didn't know better, I'd say the plastic chair by his bed is the
same one from the waiting room. The bumps and scratches on its
surface feel identical to the ones I just left.
Now wouldn't that be a case? The mysterious moving chair. Paging
Vincent Price.
I know I'm supposed to have these deep, introspective thoughts now
that I'm sitting here, looking at him. I'm supposed to make one of
those impassioned pleas to God to let my partner live, then I'm
supposed to beg him not to die but the best I can come up with?
"I swear to God, Goren, you die and I'm coming after you to kick your
ass."
Real poetic, don't you think?
----
If this were a story, I think I'd call it "The Vigil of Alexandra
Eames" or something like that. I swear, all I've been doing for the
past 24 hours is sitting in a chair, staring at something. A wall, a
face, a coffee cup, whatever, just as long as I'm staring at
something.
Frankly, it's starting to get old. I hate waiting at the best of
times, but right now? Right now I feel like going Spidey and climbing
the walls. But, of course, with my luck, that would be when Goren
would wake up, give me one of those looks, then ask me about the
case. Wouldn't even be phased in the least by his partner hanging
from the wall or the ceiling.
I'm serious. Nothing ever phases him. He gets angry about
victimization and things related to work, but anything else? Nope.
Nada. No reaction. Well, nothing that he *shows* beyond a little
smile or a warming of the eyes. At least in public.
Gin's fond of complaining that sometimes she feels like she could
prance by naked and all he'd do is ask if she was cold but she just
likes bugging him about it. Truth is, so do I. He's so fun to tease,
not that I get to do it much. In our line of work, humor is rarely
anything but morbid so I settle for dry, sarcastic comments. It's a
release for the tension.
The sound of the monitor doing something grabs my attention and my
eyes fly to the readouts above my head. I haven't a damn clue what
most of them mean but the one that indicates heartbeat is going along
steady which makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Then I look at his
face and I realize what's going on.
He's waking up.
I'm on my feet almost before I realize what's happening and I'm at
the door, waving for a nurse, a doctor, *anyone* to come and check on
him.
The surgeon who came to tell me Goren was out of surgery seems to
mysteriously appear but I don't care how he came to be here, Scotty
could have beamed him down for all it concerns me, I just want to
know my partner - my friend - is all right.
The doctor moves by me with barely a word and leans over his patient,
checking this and that while making soft mutters to himself, or
Goren, I can't really be sure. Finally, he stands back, drapes his
stethoscope around his neck and nods. "Welcome back to the living,
Detective."
I sigh in relief again.
Goren looks up at him and gestures weakly to the ventilator.
"We'll remove that shortly." The doctor assures him. "But in the
meantime, there's someone here to see you." He moves and I step
forward.
"Hey."
He smiles slightly, or tries to anyway. The tubing he's hooked up to
makes it more like a grimace than anything but I don't care. It's a
smile.
He gestures, miming writing, and I turn to ask for a notepad.
The doctor's waiting with a pen and the aforementioned notepad in
hand. Sharp guy that doctor.
I smile my thanks then pass them to Goren. "Don't tell me, you need
me to run down to see Deakins about something?" I joke, waiting to
see what he's writing.
He gives me one of those `looks' of his and I just grin. He's not the
only one who can act unaffected by things. He's not the one who gets
the joyful pleasure of playing gullible, female cop everytime we get
one of those egomaniac perps that needs the `special plans'. I
deserve an Emmy for those performances by the way, Susan Lucci
couldn't beat me.
He rips off the top sheet and hands it to me, eyes watching my face
intently.
"Gin's asleep in the waiting room." I know he has to be wondering at
the grin on my face so I glance up. "I'll tell you later."
He nods.
"The doctor gave me the usual, you'll be in here a week or so,
depends on how you respond, then you're Gin's problem." My grin
widens at that. I take a perverse amount of enjoyment out of the fact
that Gin's only about my size but she can con Goren into doing
whatever she wants. Size does *not* matter when you're dealing with
sick boyfriends or husbands. We women have been proving that one for
millennia upon millennia. God's way of evening the odds my mother
says.
Again the nod.
"As for the investigation, never you mind." That grin of mine's going
no place. I admit it, I'm liking this one-sided thing. He can't come
up with some mind-bender comment to top me with and I get to have the
last word. Yep, I'm enjoying it. "We're handling it. You just lie
there and count the ceiling tiles."
Oh wow, that actually earned me a dirty look. Damn, this is fun.
Goren writes out something else and hands it to me.
"You know," I tell him casually. "You really need to work on your
handwriting. It's a wonder anyone can read it."
His gaze narrows and I smile serenely, patting his hand. "Now be good
and I'll go get Gin. She'll have my head on a platter if I don't wake
her up now that you're awake."
Swinging about, I hurry out the door before he can find something to
throw at me. Not that he would, but you know, with the anesthesia
wearing off and all, he might act out. Just to throw me off. It is
Goren we're dealing with here. If the man can reason it, he can be
it. Hell, if the magic gut speaks, he doesn't even need to reason it.
Once I'm down the hall and out of sight of most of the staff, I let
myself smile, the massively stupid-looking, shamelessly happy, smile
that I'd never let anyone see. It's just not done. Not unless I'm
totally drunk.
Either way, no one saw me so that's a moot point.
All I care about currently is that Goren's going to be fine, I've got
my friend back, and most important of all...I don't have to break in
a new partner. That always takes forever.
Sighing suddenly, I pause to rest a hand on the wall, lowering my
head.
God, I hate this. The waiting, the worry, then the relief. I'd skip
the relief if I could trade it in for an assurance I'd never have to
do the waiting and worrying. I really would. I'm not the type that
needs to nearly lose someone to know how important they are. I know
just fine right now thank you.
I know.
And if Goren ever does this again...I'll kill him myself, providing
Gin doesn't get him first. We can't take too much of this. If our
nerves don't get us, the hospital's idea of coffee will.
I sigh again and continue on toward the waiting room.
Gin's turn to take a ride on the emotional roller coaster.
I'm going to have another cup of killer coffee then crash, my turn
for it.
Pasting a controlled version of my earlier smile on my face, I open
the door.
Maybe I'll skip the coffee and just crash.
Yeah, that sounds good.
"Hey Gin..."
Very good.
Finis
Author: Medie
email: [email protected]
Rating: PG
Keywords: Eames POV, Injured Goren
Summary: Eames takes a ride on the emotional roller coaster while
Goren's in surgery. Fortunately, she's not alone.
Author's note: My first completed CI fic. *G* Not exactly sure where
it came from but here it is.
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of Law & Order: Criminal
Intent belong to their creators. Gin belongs to me.
Thanks to Aphreal (aka Kacey *G*) for reading it over and providing a
great beta (not to mention encouragement!)
**********
Whoever said silence is golden is a damn liar. It's so quiet, the
silence hanging about us is so thick and heavy as to be oppressive.
The weight of it bears down like a yoke about our necks, keeping our
gazes on the floor.
Or, in my case, the coffee cups in my hands. Its empty, but I don't
especially care. I stare into it like Madame Cleo stares at her tarot
cards. The damn cup gives up about as many answers as the so-called
`shamaness' does too.
Sitting next to me, Gin shifts position, the sound of her jeans
moving on the hard plastic just manages to accentuate the bone-weary
sigh that escapes her.
I don't begrudge her the position she's in. I grew up with it.
Everytime my old man got hurt on the job, us kids got bundled up and
trucked down to the hospital to wait with Mom. That wasn't so bad
when I was little and didn't fully understand what was going on but
when I got older? I knew. I hated it.
Now, looking at Gin's wan, pinched features, I can almost see my
mother's overlaid on hers and I feel very much like the scared
teenager I'd been.
I hate it.
"Maybe you should get some rest," I suggest softly, hoping Gin'll
take the suggestion and try to sleep. I don't know who needs her to
rest more, her or me. I can't help the fact my partner is in surgery
fighting for his life, but I can see to it that Gin's taken care of.
God knows, she's not thinking about herself right now. Her mind is
focused one hundred percent on Bobby.
"I'm not tired." Gin replies quietly, without looking out from the
sheltered curtain of her hair.
"No," I agree. "You're exhausted."
"I can't leave." She insists. "I can't."
"You don't have to." I console. "They've got a room you can use." I'd
expected her to use that excuse and was prepared for it. Not that
it's really an excuse. Virginia Alexander isn't a woman who depends
on flimsy excuses when it comes to her relationship with Goren and
has a habit of expecting everyone else to understand that. He does so
really that's the only thing that matters. They're quite secure with
the connection between them, more so than couples that have been
together longer than they've been alive. But when you consider that
connection, it's obvious why. It's so intense it's practically
tangible, it reverberates back and forth between them like some sort
of feedback loop. Their relationship is incredible but what's really
incredible is the reaction people have when they find out about it.
It's such a foreign concept to them that Bobby Goren could even exist
in a long-term relationship with anything other than a homicide
investigation.
You've gotta give him credit for it. The guy is an absolute master
when it comes to the psychology stuff. That's why it's no surprise to
me that he's very effectively keeping his professional and personal
lives separate. If he hadn't forgotten his case one morning, I
wouldn't have even known about Gin. As it was, when she brought it in
to him, I thought she was his sister or something. That wrong
assumption lasted just as long as it took for me to see the look in
his eyes when he saw her. Definitely not the way a man looks at his
sister.
"I'll sleep later." Gin sits back, pushing her hands through her hair
before resting her head against the wall. "I want to be here when
they bring him out of surgery." Her hands shake lightly as she rests
them on her thigh.
"I'll wake you." I promise gently. "Gin, if you don't rest soon,
you'll collapse. You know about this sort of thing, you'll crash if
you keep pushing it. Bobby needs you to take care of yourself."
She looks at me, smiling shakily. "I know. I'm not handling this
well, am I?" She sighs. "Some therapist, hmm? You'd think a
psychiatrist would be able to deal with the fear and stress."
"You're allowed to be scared." I reassure, resting a hand on hers.
"You love him."
"He's everything." She whispers, tears shining in her eyelashes. "I
can't..." Words desert her and she gives a shuddering sigh.
"He's going to be fine." I assure, telling myself as much as I'm
telling her. The truth is, I'm as scared as she is, but at the
moment, my fear has to take a backseat. We can't both be falling
apart right now.
I rub her shoulder gently. "You need to get some rest, Gin. You can't
keep this up much longer. If you don't lie down, you're going to fall
down. Goren'll have my head if you end up collapsing from
exhaustion."
She responds to my wry smile with a pale version of her own. "Can't
have that." She murmurs. "Who'll keep him out of trouble if you
aren't there?"
"Who indeed." I reply softly.
A knowing look appears in Gin's eyes, a look I recognize all too
well. She must have gotten it from Goren, it's got him written all
over it. "This isn't your fault, you know that. Right, Alex?"
"I know." I respond after some moments pause. "Logically, I know
that."
"But it doesn't change how you feel." Gin nods. "I know."
We share a rueful smile and I'm struck by the moment. How many times
has this scenario been played out in how many hospitals? A wounded
officer, fighting for life while his partner and girlfriend sit
together in a waiting room, battling their own fears and making
bargains with God. How many?
Too many.
"He'll be fine." I say decisively, repeating my earlier assurances.
"He doesn't get a choice in the matter."
With a hint of melancholy, Gin replies. "No, he doesn't."
----
I'll say this for Goren's taste in women, he likes `em stubborn, I've
never met another woman as stubborn as myself, until Gin that is. She
fought her own exhaustion longer than I would have ever thought
possible. She finally fell asleep, sitting up on that damn plastic
chair, facing the doorway. I would have thought she was still awake
if she hadn't nearly fallen over when I touched her.
It took some doing, but I finally managed to get her stretched out
across a couple chairs, covered in Goren's coat. On her, it looks
like a blanket, no surprise there. He dwarfs *everyone*.
So now, I'm sitting here across from her now, staring at that coat.
As much as I like Gin, I wish that coat was on it's owner, not her. I
hate this, I hate the waiting. I hate feeling helpless. I'm not the
helpless type. I want to *do* something!
But there's nothing I can do. Not a damn thing.
"Detective Eames?"
The soft voice of the doctor catches my attention and I look over.
"Yes?"
The older man moves closer, hesitant to wake Gin, and whispers.
"Detective Goren is out of surgery."
Instantly I'm on my feet, drawing him out the door. "And?"
"He's doing remarkably well." The surgeon beams. "He's a strong,
young man."
"Yeah, he is." I reply proudly, acting like Bobby's my kid and not my
partner. But then, given the way he can sometimes remind me of a
child, who's to say he isn't? "Can I see him?"
He looks over my shoulder. "What about Dr. Alexander?"
"She's exhausted, she needs to sleep." I tell him firmly, giving an
unspoken order to leave her where she is. I may not be Gin's family,
I'm not Goren's either, but I'll protect them both like I am. They
have the habit of forgetting to take care of themselves and that's
where I come in. I'm not the mother hen type but when it comes to
Goren and, by extension, Gin, I'll do what I have to. "She'll be
sleeping for a while, in the meantime, I'd like to see him."
"Of course, Detective," The doctor acquiesces. "This way."
—
He looks the same. I don't know what I'd expected but he looks the
same. Rigged up with equipment but it's still Goren. He's just lying
there with his eyes closed and looks for all the world like he's
trying to figure out some suspect or where a piece of evidence fits,
not recovering from major surgery.
"Hey."
He doesn't answer. Yep, definitely trying to figure out something. He
never answers me when he's doing that. He doesn't do it to be rude,
that's not his style, it's just him. He gets so focused in on
something, he tends to forget there's anyone else in the room. Anyone
else in the world actually.
If I didn't know better, I'd say the plastic chair by his bed is the
same one from the waiting room. The bumps and scratches on its
surface feel identical to the ones I just left.
Now wouldn't that be a case? The mysterious moving chair. Paging
Vincent Price.
I know I'm supposed to have these deep, introspective thoughts now
that I'm sitting here, looking at him. I'm supposed to make one of
those impassioned pleas to God to let my partner live, then I'm
supposed to beg him not to die but the best I can come up with?
"I swear to God, Goren, you die and I'm coming after you to kick your
ass."
Real poetic, don't you think?
----
If this were a story, I think I'd call it "The Vigil of Alexandra
Eames" or something like that. I swear, all I've been doing for the
past 24 hours is sitting in a chair, staring at something. A wall, a
face, a coffee cup, whatever, just as long as I'm staring at
something.
Frankly, it's starting to get old. I hate waiting at the best of
times, but right now? Right now I feel like going Spidey and climbing
the walls. But, of course, with my luck, that would be when Goren
would wake up, give me one of those looks, then ask me about the
case. Wouldn't even be phased in the least by his partner hanging
from the wall or the ceiling.
I'm serious. Nothing ever phases him. He gets angry about
victimization and things related to work, but anything else? Nope.
Nada. No reaction. Well, nothing that he *shows* beyond a little
smile or a warming of the eyes. At least in public.
Gin's fond of complaining that sometimes she feels like she could
prance by naked and all he'd do is ask if she was cold but she just
likes bugging him about it. Truth is, so do I. He's so fun to tease,
not that I get to do it much. In our line of work, humor is rarely
anything but morbid so I settle for dry, sarcastic comments. It's a
release for the tension.
The sound of the monitor doing something grabs my attention and my
eyes fly to the readouts above my head. I haven't a damn clue what
most of them mean but the one that indicates heartbeat is going along
steady which makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Then I look at his
face and I realize what's going on.
He's waking up.
I'm on my feet almost before I realize what's happening and I'm at
the door, waving for a nurse, a doctor, *anyone* to come and check on
him.
The surgeon who came to tell me Goren was out of surgery seems to
mysteriously appear but I don't care how he came to be here, Scotty
could have beamed him down for all it concerns me, I just want to
know my partner - my friend - is all right.
The doctor moves by me with barely a word and leans over his patient,
checking this and that while making soft mutters to himself, or
Goren, I can't really be sure. Finally, he stands back, drapes his
stethoscope around his neck and nods. "Welcome back to the living,
Detective."
I sigh in relief again.
Goren looks up at him and gestures weakly to the ventilator.
"We'll remove that shortly." The doctor assures him. "But in the
meantime, there's someone here to see you." He moves and I step
forward.
"Hey."
He smiles slightly, or tries to anyway. The tubing he's hooked up to
makes it more like a grimace than anything but I don't care. It's a
smile.
He gestures, miming writing, and I turn to ask for a notepad.
The doctor's waiting with a pen and the aforementioned notepad in
hand. Sharp guy that doctor.
I smile my thanks then pass them to Goren. "Don't tell me, you need
me to run down to see Deakins about something?" I joke, waiting to
see what he's writing.
He gives me one of those `looks' of his and I just grin. He's not the
only one who can act unaffected by things. He's not the one who gets
the joyful pleasure of playing gullible, female cop everytime we get
one of those egomaniac perps that needs the `special plans'. I
deserve an Emmy for those performances by the way, Susan Lucci
couldn't beat me.
He rips off the top sheet and hands it to me, eyes watching my face
intently.
"Gin's asleep in the waiting room." I know he has to be wondering at
the grin on my face so I glance up. "I'll tell you later."
He nods.
"The doctor gave me the usual, you'll be in here a week or so,
depends on how you respond, then you're Gin's problem." My grin
widens at that. I take a perverse amount of enjoyment out of the fact
that Gin's only about my size but she can con Goren into doing
whatever she wants. Size does *not* matter when you're dealing with
sick boyfriends or husbands. We women have been proving that one for
millennia upon millennia. God's way of evening the odds my mother
says.
Again the nod.
"As for the investigation, never you mind." That grin of mine's going
no place. I admit it, I'm liking this one-sided thing. He can't come
up with some mind-bender comment to top me with and I get to have the
last word. Yep, I'm enjoying it. "We're handling it. You just lie
there and count the ceiling tiles."
Oh wow, that actually earned me a dirty look. Damn, this is fun.
Goren writes out something else and hands it to me.
"You know," I tell him casually. "You really need to work on your
handwriting. It's a wonder anyone can read it."
His gaze narrows and I smile serenely, patting his hand. "Now be good
and I'll go get Gin. She'll have my head on a platter if I don't wake
her up now that you're awake."
Swinging about, I hurry out the door before he can find something to
throw at me. Not that he would, but you know, with the anesthesia
wearing off and all, he might act out. Just to throw me off. It is
Goren we're dealing with here. If the man can reason it, he can be
it. Hell, if the magic gut speaks, he doesn't even need to reason it.
Once I'm down the hall and out of sight of most of the staff, I let
myself smile, the massively stupid-looking, shamelessly happy, smile
that I'd never let anyone see. It's just not done. Not unless I'm
totally drunk.
Either way, no one saw me so that's a moot point.
All I care about currently is that Goren's going to be fine, I've got
my friend back, and most important of all...I don't have to break in
a new partner. That always takes forever.
Sighing suddenly, I pause to rest a hand on the wall, lowering my
head.
God, I hate this. The waiting, the worry, then the relief. I'd skip
the relief if I could trade it in for an assurance I'd never have to
do the waiting and worrying. I really would. I'm not the type that
needs to nearly lose someone to know how important they are. I know
just fine right now thank you.
I know.
And if Goren ever does this again...I'll kill him myself, providing
Gin doesn't get him first. We can't take too much of this. If our
nerves don't get us, the hospital's idea of coffee will.
I sigh again and continue on toward the waiting room.
Gin's turn to take a ride on the emotional roller coaster.
I'm going to have another cup of killer coffee then crash, my turn
for it.
Pasting a controlled version of my earlier smile on my face, I open
the door.
Maybe I'll skip the coffee and just crash.
Yeah, that sounds good.
"Hey Gin..."
Very good.
Finis