As it's been some time since my last update, and I don't want to force anyone into rereading…when last we left our heroes, Eames' husband Joe had been murdered by Ruiz, a drug dealer who was paroled while she was recovering from her kidnapping. She and Bobby found their way to each other as he helped her cope with Ruiz' release, but alas, Ruiz (who was working as a hit man for a major kingpin) was murdered with the gun that had killed Joe, and Eames is a suspect. She and Goren went to interview Ruiz' widow and found themselves entangled with the DEA (including Agent Falk, who Eames was…not fond of), while Logan, Jeffries and Ross had a suspect at One PP who may have gotten access to the murder weapon. While the kingpin for whom Ruiz worked was killed by a car bomb, an unaware Bobby insisted Alex join him for dinner with "friends", and the partners struggled with wanting to "get some" as opposed to "get some answers." And Alyssa rocked, but see more about that in the A/N after the chapter, okay?
The group gathered in the living room had no idea about the …frustration their two guests were enduring right outside.
But not one of them would have been surprised.
Waiting for Goren and Eames to arrive from the Ruiz scene, there's been some good-natured joking about the two detectives and their "relationship issues." The consensus was that everyone hoped recent events had pushed them over the so-called line, but that tonight, the subject would be left alone, as there were bigger fish to fry.
Less fun and interesting fish, for sure, but still.
One member of the party, however, had insisted on having at least a little bit of fun with Goren and Eames, and as such, was especially delighted when the doorbell finally rang.
"I'll get it!"
The others' mumbled "We know"s were ignored. Let them think what they will. I finally have my golden opportunity to surprise Detective Goren, and I fully intend to make the most of it.
As he answered the door with a huge grin on his face, he was rewarded by both catching a rather steamy gaze exchanged between the partners, then by the gobsmacked and slightly guilty look on Goren's face.
Eames, as per usual, was quick to recover. "Mr. Carver," she extended a hand, "what are you doing here?"
His grin growing even larger, as he took her hand, he said simply, "Didn't you know, Detective? I'm your lawyer."
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Agents Falk and Rice exchanged a frustrated look as the FDNY captain explained that the warehouse was not yet safe for them to enter.
Falk, unused to being thwarted, puffed out his chest and adopted a superior tone. "Captain…Jennings, was it? Perhaps I didn't explain myself fully. It is imperative that my team get into that warehouse before any more evidence is destroyed."
With a weary roll of his eyes, Kurt Jennings answered, his voice tight with annoyance. "You explained yourself perfectly well, Mr. Falk, and I understand what you want. What you need to understand is that you will get into this building when I say it's safe, and not a minute sooner. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with the Chief. I have work to do." Jennings walked back to his command post, shaking his head.
Falk was about to follow and pursue the argument when Rice grabbed his arm and hissed, "You already went a round with NYPD today and probably will again tomorrow; do you really want to piss off the Fire Department too?"
Falk took a deep breath, and realized that the junior agent was making a very good point. His earlier conversation with Detective Eames hadn't gone the way he'd planned, and rather than the gratitude he'd expected, she'd been genuinely angry at the DEA's hands-off approach to the drug murders. It was likely, too, that she would report the incident to her captain, and that he could expect more NYPD flak sooner than later.
Falk had been with the DEA for more than 15 long years, and he vaguely remembered having, early in his career, a similar reaction to the agency's willingness to let the dealers kill each other. But experience had shown him that the consolidation of power, which was usually the goal of these types of killings, was beneficial to public safety. The big kingpins ran tight ships, and that tended to cut down on random gunplay.
He sighed, looking over at the decimated car, what was left of its former occupants already removed and on their way to the federal morgue. Though Falk didn't know the precise identity of the man who'd been in the back seat, expertise and instinct told him he'd been a major player.
If only we'd found that card sooner. If only we'd figured out it led us here sooner. If only I'd gotten here sooner…
The cop's litany.
Falk ran a hand through his thinning hair, knowing that, in addition to the potential for vengeance killings from the dead man's soldiers, they could expect a major power struggle to erupt over the vacuum created by this death. His agency, along with the NYPD's Narcotics Squad, faced some tough and busy days ahead, and, Falk thought bitterly, Eames and her colleagues at Major Case would be out of it, off chasing their latest jewel thief or wayward celebrity.
He knew it wasn't really a fair view of MCS; they say, as all cops did, their share of violence and ugliness. But he was disappointed at not having established a better rapport with the female detective the way Rice had. In researching Eames and her partner when they got dragged into the case, both agents had been impressed with the longtime partners' solve rate and reputation, and Falk had wanted to know more about the attractive blonde who'd survived an encounter with a young Manuel Ruiz and had gone on to be a persuasive advocate for victims' rights, without ever presenting herself as a victim.
Falk sighed again, and stepped back to lean against his car, a sign to Rice and the FDNY that he would wait for the all-clear without creating any further turmoil. There was no real rush anyway; the chance of someone this high up having left behind evidence of any importance was miniscule.
He settled in for the wait.
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While Alex had resigned herself to an evening of waiting to be alone with her partner, she found that she was actually settling in and relaxing, for which she was grateful, if a bit surprised.
After his initial "Gotcha" at the door, Carver had been all smoothness, escorting her into the Deakins' living room, and facilitating the round of greetings with his wife Deirdre as well as Jimmy and Angie.
Of course he'd virtually ignored Bobby, having already milked as much amusement out of him as was permitted, but Alex knew her partner was unlikely to be fazed by that. Carver's hand on the small of her back, however, was quite another matter, and she made certain to throw a small eyeroll and wink over her shoulder at Bobby, which she knew he would correctly interpret.
As if.
She was gratified when he winked back, her message having been received, and so took the offered seat and refocused her attention on their hosts, all of whom were smiling at her and wearing similar "cat that ate the canary" looks.
This was sure to be trouble.
Arching a practiced eyebrow, she addressed herself first to Carver. "My lawyer, Mr. Carver?"
"Ron," he interrupted, earning a strangled sound from Bobby, who attempted to cover it with a cough.
"You okay there, Goren?" Deakins queried, a twinkle in his eye.
Taking the seat next to Alex, though not too close, Bobby waved off the "concern." "Fine, Captain…uh, Jimmy. Though, since you didn't mention that Mr. and Mrs. Carver would be here when we spoke earlier, I am a bit surprised. Um, uh, pleasantly, of course."
Heh. Alex was amused at Bobby's effort to be civil, knowing his innate distrust of lawyers in general, and Carver in specific. I'll have to reward him later. Maybe I could…danger, Alex, don't let your thoughts wander too far down that particular garden path, or Bobby will know, and he's certainly not above throwing you down on this couch and marking his territory, just to piss Carver off.
God, I love that about him.
With an effort, she brought her mind back to the present, and turned and shot a quizzical look towards Carver. "Okay, Ron, what made you decide to represent me? I know you've gone into private practice, but not as a defense attorney."
"Exactly," Deakins piped up. "With a former prosecutor representing you, it will be crystal clear that you're innocent. A no-brainer."
Alex pondered this for a moment in silence, but Bobby felt the need to voice a concern.
"Mr. Carver, as much as Eames and I genuinely appreciate your offer, I worry that a jury might see your representing her as an extension of the thin blue line – cops and prosecutors protecting each other."
Eames started to speak up, but Carver interrupted her to answer Bobby. "I would tend to agree with you, Detective, but I'll simply bring up my unblemished record of bringing dirty cops to justice. Not to mention yours," he indicated both Bobby and Alex with a casual wave of his hand.
Stunned into silence by this almost-friendly and entirely unnecessary exchange between her partner and the former ADA, Alex was startled when Angie Deakins laid a gentle hand on her knee. With a smile, Angie leaned in to speak quietly. "It's entirely up to you, of course, my dear, but I believe it's the right move for you. Ron can cite your excellent history with the Department, and keep the prosecution from dragging your personal life into it."
Overhearing, Bobby began to grumble, and soon the Deakins' living room had deteriorated into a cacophony of point and counterpoint.
Looking over at Deirdre Carver, the cool and collected eye of this particular hurricane, Alex smiled with what she hoped was perceived as gratitude before bringing her hand to her mouth and letting loose a piercing whistle.
All eyes on her, she grinned. "I don't need a lawyer." With the full attention of her audience, she explained what Agent Falk had told her, managing, with effort, to suppress her anger in the hope of not rousing Bobby's.
No such luck.
With a rather frightening growl, he described in great detail his plans for Falk, Rice, and any and every DEA agent on whom he could get his hands.
Alex, for her part, was unperturbed by this display, as she knew Goren was just blowing off steam, and could see that his anger at the hell they'd been through was tempering slowly as the relief hit him.
The others, save Deakins, were less inured to Bobby's fury, and had retreated to a corner of the living room, where they were conducting what appeared to be a strategy session. Eames looked on in amusement, mildly curious as to whether their plans were related to the attempted frame-up, the DEA, or, more likely, finding a way to get Goren out of the house.
Braver than the rest and less fazed by Goren's now-diminishing rant, Deakins approached her and a still-pacing Bobby with caution, but not fear, noting silently that Eames' hand brushed Goren's each time he passed her, and that with each touch, he seemed to calm a bit more. "Alex, I know you're a little…er…busy right now, but if Ron and I could have a word…"
She stood and laid a soothing hand on Bobby's shoulder before following the two men into Jimmy's den and home office. Alex was sure Angie and Deirdre were in no danger from Goren and could handle him just fine even if his temper was reignited; not to mention, she was curious as to why Carver and Deakins wanted to speak to her alone.
"What's up?" she asked, as lightly as possible.
Carver met her eyes, his own serious. "Detective, I'm relieved and thrilled that you won't be needing my services as a defense attorney. That being said, I think I may still be of some assistance to you."
As he went on, outlining his idea, Alex' jaw dropped.
A/N – Long time no see! I must admit that sadly, in my long absence, I did not acquire the ownership of Goren, Eames, nor any of the other established characters of Law and Order: Criminal Intent. I did, however, acquire the most awesome beta ever, so give it up for Alyssa (Scripted Starlet) for polishing this, coming up with the idea of the synopsis above, and assuring me that maybe people might still be interested in reading it. She kicks 9 kinds of ass, but if you've read any of her stories (and if you haven't, GO NOW) you already know that.