The Informant Chapter 7 -- Conclusion

The characters of Robert Goren, Alexandra Eames, and James Deakins do not belong to me.

Doctor Roberts waited patiently as an agitated Bobby paced the room.

Why can't I just say it, for God's sake! Why the hell should I care what he thinks anyway? Or what anyone thinks? Just say it!

But Bobby did care. And he really wanted to talk about it, to have someone know what really happened that day. So Bobby slowly started his tale. He never did look at the doctor, just continued pacing.

Finally, taking a deep breath, "I was… was just a kid then… about 9, I think, maybe 10, I don't know. I was with this other kid from school, Richie." Bobby paused for a minute, remembering. "Richie was my one real friend, one of the few kids who were allowed to play with me…ya know, cause of my mom. And…we…I… just fucked up."

Doctor Roberts nodded his head, encouraging him.

"We weren't supposed to be there…down at the piers. But we were there, goofing around…and somehow—I still don't know how—Richie fell in. I…I didn't know what to do…I started yelling for help, I tried climbing down to him…and I fell in. I nearly drowned, but they got me out—somehow—but they couldn't find Richie. Not till two days later." Bobby's voice was very low, barely audible. "I wish…it had been me," Bobby said softly, his eyes stinging with tears. "I…tried to save him, tried to get back to the water, but they were holding me back… wouldn't let me…"

Doctor Roberts just waited until Bobby was ready again.

After a while, Bobby continued. "It was my fault, we shouldn't have been there… Richie never would've been there if I—"

"Bobby," the doctor interrupted. "You were kids. Richie had a choice, and he chose to go with you."

Bobby stared at him bleakly. "His parents didn't think so. They blamed me; everybody did. Said they knew they never should have let him hang around with me. And Dad…well…he just beat the shit out of me everyday for a month." Bobby paused again. "Nobody cared that I almost drowned going after him. And nobody cared how I felt about my best friend drowning. I wanted to die, too."

Bobby sat down heavily, head in hands. Doctor Roberts gave him a few minutes to compose himself. Then Bobby looked up with the saddest eyes, and said, "The thing is…it was my fault. I just wish it had been me," he repeated.

That therapy session lasted quite a bit longer than usual. By the end of it, Bobby realized a number of things: why the recent attack on his life brought up memories of his own near-drowning and his friend's death, why he felt like his own life was not important enough for others to care about, and mostly, that just because things were like that back then didn't mean they had to be that way now.

Another thing he discovered, much to his astonishment, was that, after telling his story, he actually felt better. Like releasing the valve on a pressure cooker.

As Bobby left, Dr. Roberts told him, "Your job, now, is to talk."

Back at 1PP things were pretty much back to normal. Bobby and Alex had already gotten into their normal daily routine. But there were still some things Bobby had to do.

They were sitting at their desks, discussing a case and looking over the files.

Bobby seemed very distracted, couldn't seem to focus, totally unlike himself. Every once in a while, Alex would look up to find him looking at her, then he'd quickly look away. Finally, she couldn't take it any more.

"Bobby, is there something you need?" she asked.

"No…"

"Anything wrong?"

"No," Bobby said, shaking his head.

She sighed, and went back to her case file.

It was almost quitting time. "Uh, Eames?" Bobby started.

Alex looked up. "Yeah, Bobby?"

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

Alex thought for a minute. "Nope, not a thing. Just going to heat up some leftover pizza, have a beer or two, and go to bed early."

"Would you mind if I came over for a while?"

"Come on over. I'm pretty sure there's enough pizza, and I know there's enough beer. Something up?"

Then Bobby said the words Alex had waited a long time for.

"There's just something I've been needing to do…do you think tonight we could talk? I mean, really talk?

There was one other thing that still had to be addressed, and it wasn't something the doctor could fix: Bobby's attacker was still on the loose. It had been over 3 months now, and there was still no sign of that bastard. While Bobby had been laid up in the hospital, what few leads MCS did have had all turned cold. There was no way of knowing if Nicky had left the city, was just laying low, or worse, if and when he planned on going after Bobby again. It was a little unnerving to know that someone who had already tried once to kill you was still out there, just waiting for the right opportunity.

Bobby had a decision to make. If he wanted to stay in law enforcement, he'd have to let go of all that. He couldn't wait around forever for Nicky to show up and make the first move; he'd go crazy. So Bobby himself was now going to pursue Nicky, and he would catch up with him. He just hoped that when they did meet, this time it would be Nicky Jackson on the wrong side of a bullet. And that was going to happen sooner than expected. As it turns out, it would all come about through the information from another informant.

At first Deakins had given Bobby flak about him and Eames going after Jackson, the usual stuff about being "too close" to the subject. Bobby objected vehemently, arguing correctly that so far the others on this case had made no progress. Deakins had to give him that point, and allowed him to take over the case. Besides, as Deakins knew, when Bobby was intent on something, he'd never take "no" for an answer.

"Try not to go off all hell bent on revenge," he told him, only half-jokingly.

As an adult, Bobby had some friends and acquaintances in both reputable and marginal lines of work, and he called on some of them to put out "feelers". It was only a matter of time before he'd get a lead.

A few days later, the call came in.

"Hey, Goren," Jonsey, another detective called over, "Line one,"

Bobby hurried over to pick up line one at his desk. "Goren," he said into the mouthpiece.

Silence.

"Goren here," Bobby repeated.

After a minute, a voice finally asked, "uh…is this Detective Goren?"

"Yes it is. What can I do for you?"

"Detective Robert Goren?"

"Yes it is," Bobby said louder, rubbing his temples. "What can I do for you?"

The voice got a little cockier. "The question is, what can I do for you, and how much you gonna pay?"

Bobby snapped his fingers to get Jonsey's attention, indicting he wanted this call traced. "Okay, let's talk."

Bobby and Alex, wearing vests, were to meet this new informant, (on "loan" from the Newark, N.J police department) at "The Deli" on Broad Street in Newark. This particular guy, Marty, had known Nicky, and what Nicky was wanted for, for a while now. He didn't particularly have any use for cops himself, and the only reason he was giving Nicky up now was to keep his own ass out of jail. He had planned on lying, just a little, to help out his buddy.

Taking in Bobby's 6'4" frame, he said, "Damn! 'Ol Nicky must have bigger cajones than I thought, taking you on."

"Yeah," Alex said caustically. "It takes really big ones to ambush someone."

"He did tell you it was an ambush, right?" Bobby asked. "And now you're gonna tell us the truth. Or I could show you just how big my cajones are," Bobby said menacingly. Bobby could be very intimidating.

Marty gave Nicky up in a second.

Next stop: "Frankie's Place", a run down strip club in east Newark. The obnoxious neon sign out front, flashing non-stop, read, "LIVE GIRLS! ALL NUDE! ALL NIGHT!"

"Classy," Alex remarked sarcastically. "At least the girls are live. That's a plus."

Bobby just looked at her.

Then Bobby and Alex, accompanied by a few of the local police, split up. Alex went around back, to cut off any possible escape. Bobby went in the front.

Inside "Frankie's", it was dingy and smoky. There were only a few patrons, and currently on stage, a very bored "live" naked girl. With the exception of the girl, it reminded Bobby of the place where Nicky had first shot him. Then Bobby spotted him.

Nicky was sitting at a table in front, drinking and making crude comments to the girl, who was totally ignoring him.

Bobby felt a rage rising inside him like he'd never felt before. His Glock was fully extended, aimed straight at Nicky.

"Nicky!" Bobby called.

Nicky turned around and froze, turning white. He thought he was seeing a ghost.

"How ya doing, Nicky?" Bobby asked, not really interested in how Nicky was doing.

"Wha.." was all he could get out, then he quickly drew his gun. But Bobby was waiting for him, and expertly shot Nicky's gun hand. The gun went flying, and Nicky started screaming.

Bobby moved surprisingly quick for a man his size. Like a cat, he was on Nicky.

The shot brought Alex and the other police running in. Alex went quickly to Bobby, while the police hung in the back.

Bobby had his gun and Nicky's head up against the wall. Nicky was screaming about his shot wrist, and the fact that Bobby's gun was about to bore a hole in his head.

"What's it feel like Nicky! Does it hurt!" Bobby was enraged. "DOES IT HURT!"

"Yes! It hurts! Yes!" Nicky cried.

Bobby was so completely consumed with fury he was trembling. The trigger finger on his gun hand was shaking as he pushed even harder on Nicky's head. Nicky was still screaming, crying, begging for his life. Bobby chambered around the Glock, his finger pressing lightly on the trigger.

"BOBBY." Alex said his name, calmly and firmly. "BOBBY, it's okay. We've got him now."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Bobby lowered his gun, his hand still trembling. Then he handcuffed the terrified Nicky, a little roughly, making sure to give a little extra twist to Nicky's gunshot arm.

As Nicky was read his rights, it became obvious that "secret agent man" Nicky Jackson had lost all control of his bodily functions.

Alex wrinkled her nose, and gave him a disgusted look.

Bobby, totally repulsed by Nicky in every possible way, said "Just get him out of my sight." And the cops lead the blubbering mess called Nicky Jackson away.

Watching him being taken away, hopefully to a long prison sentence, Alex turned to Bobby. "Well, we got him, Bobby."

"We sure did," Bobby said, looking down at his partner. And he actually smiled.

The End.