BLOOD MOON

Author’s note: It’s funny how things work out. Prior to writing out the latter part of this chapter, I had very specific ideas about what was going to happen, and how certain characters were going to behave. Yet, when I actually got to writing, it came out considerably differently to the way I originally planned. I swear, these characters have minds of their own…

Also, taking some poetic license – any die-hard Inspector Frost fan will know that he was left more or less homeless after his house burned down. In my little universe, that never happened.


The Archery club staff was less forthcoming in assisting them. The woman sitting at the front desk was the no-nonsense sort, looking down her nose at the three of them and clearly unimpressed when they identified themselves as police officers.

“I’m sorry,” she said coolly, sounding anything but. “The manager, Mr Baker, has meetings all through today, and I don’t expect him to be available until tomorrow at the earliest. And no, I can’t allow you to look at our records. Those are strictly confidential.”

“I don’t think you understand, Ms Elliot,” Jack started to say, glancing at her name badge for reference.

“I understand perfectly,” she replied frostily. “If you wish to examine our records, you will have to obtain a warrant.”

“Well, maybe we could just take a look around, then?” Goren inquired, starting to edge towards the door that led to the archery range.

“Certainly not. It’s strictly members and guests only…”

She stood up quickly – Goren was already at the door, and halfway through.

“Just a quick look,” Goren half-pleaded. Then he was gone, disappearing through the doorway with an agility that belied his injury. The receptionist hurried after him, looking predictably put-out.

“What does he think he’s…” Jack trailed off, looking around in astonishment as Eames darted around the desk and began to type furiously on the computer keyboard. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for any record of Erik Mathers,” Eames answered. “Bobby provides the distraction while I get the information. It’s a well-practised tactic.”

“So I see,” Jack murmured, not sure whether to laugh or cringe.

“Eight years ago…” Eames muttered under her breath. “M… a… t… h… Here we go… Erik Mathers, bronze membership… Introduced to the club by…” She looked up at Jack, a small, grim smile on her lips. “Introduced by one Amon Bohen.”

“Sounds like we’ll be going back to have another chat with the good Professor,” Jack murmured. He watched as Eames printed off a copy of the screen and shoved it into her pocket, then returned the screen to what it had been when the receptionist left to chase after Goren. She had just stepped back around to join Jack when the door opened once more and Goren re-emerged with the furious receptionist right behind him, giving him the telling off of a lifetime.

“…totally unacceptable behaviour! I don’t care whether you are a police officer; I should report you to your superior. And I will be informing the manager of this breach.”

“We’re so sorry about that,” Eames apologised, taking Goren firmly by the arm and pushing him towards the exit. “He just gets a little carried away sometimes. We won’t bother you further.”

Then she propelled her partner out the door. Jack watched them go in incredulous amusement, then tipped his hat to the receptionist.

“Ma’am.”

Then he quickly followed his colleagues out of the building.


“Did you get it?” Goren asked as they got back to Jack’s car. Eames pulled the print-out out of her jacket and handed it to him.

“According to that, Mathers was introduced to the club by Amon Bohen.”

A tight smile formed across Goren’s face.

“I knew he was lying.”

“Ah, excuse me,” Jack interrupted, coughing into his hand. “Do you pull stunts like that often?”

Goren looked to Eames in confusion, and she smiled faintly.

“I think he means the way you got that woman away from her desk. The answer to that question, Jack, is yes. It happens all the time. If you’re not comfortable…”

“No, it’s not that,” Jack reassured them quickly. “I’ve just never seen anything quite like the two of you before.”

“We’ll take that as a compliment,” Goren chuckled as they got back into Jack’s car. Jack smiled ruefully.

“Please do. I’m not trying to be derogatory. It’s just that most officers I work with tend to be sticklers for following the letter of the law, like getting search warrants. This is actually a rather refreshing change.” He paused, glancing at his watch, then sighing faintly. “I think we’d better head back to CID. We’ll catch up with Professor Bohen tomorrow, eh?”

Goren looked at his own watch, and chuckled.

“Time flies. It’s been an interesting day.”

Eames grunted. “And not a single call from Deakins. Either he’s finally mellowing, or Mullett’s kept him so busy that he just hasn’t had time to call us.”

She had barely finished speaking when her cell phone rang shrilly.

“Nice one, Alex,” Goren said dryly. “You jinxed us.”

“Shut up,” she growled as she pulled the phone out and checked the display screen. Sure enough, the phone identified number as belonging to Deakins.

“Well,” she muttered, “I suppose we can’t complain.” Throwing Goren a dirty look as his shoulders shook with silent laughter, she answered the call.

“Eames… Yes, sir, I know. You haven’t called all day. We appreciate it…”

Goren laughed out loud, prompting Eames to thump the back of the seat to try and get him to shut up.

“Sorry, sir…? No, it’s nothing. He just has indigestion. Too much fried food at lunch. …Yes, we’re on our way back there now. …All right, we’ll see you in twenty.”

She ended the call, smirking as Goren threw a mock frown at her over his shoulder.

“Captain says you’d better watch your diet. You can’t exercise properly, and you’ll get fat on all those nasty fried foods.”

“That’s rich. I wasn’t the one who ordered a steak sandwich and chips for lunch.”

“Oh, that’s right, that was me, wasn’t it? You just had that nice, healthy BLT…”

Goren shook his head and turned back to face front.

“So what else did he have to say?”

“He said the reports are in from the pathologist’s office.”

“Good,” Jack muttered. “We’ll see whether we can get anything useful out of that.”


Deakins was waiting for them in the task room when they arrived back, looking more than a little withered from his day spent with Mullett.

“Next time you lot go somewhere,” he said ruefully as they tramped back in, “I’m damn well coming with you. If I have to spend another day with him…”

George grinned where he sat going through reports.

“I did ask if you knew what you were getting into, Guv, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Deakins shook his head in annoyance.

“I just can’t fathom how someone could be a commanding officer, and be so completely…”

“Clueless?” Eames suggested lightly. He nodded.

“Yes, exactly. All right, what have you got?”

“We went out to the university, and got unofficial copies of Mathers’ file from when he was there,” Goren answered, handing his copy of the file to Deakins. The captain raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Unofficial?”

“Don’t ask. We also spoke to a lecturer that taught one of the classes Mathers took.”

“All right. What else?”

“We paid a visit to Mr Mathers’ roommate,” Jack continued on. “Had an interesting chat with him. George, you remember Tommy Moore?”

George rolled his eyes.

“How could I forget? Silly prat actually thought he could scare us off with a flare gun. He’s out of the nick, is he?”

“Six months ago. I don’t think he’s our killer, though. He’s got form for violence, but this is a little out of his league. What we did get from him, though, was a tip that Mathers belonged to the Denton Archery Club while he was here.”

“Archery,” Deakins echoed grimly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“According to the information we got from the archery club,” Eames told him, “Mathers was introduced to the club by the professor that we spoke to at the university, Amon Bohen…”

“Which means he lied through his teeth when he told us that he didn’t know Mathers beyond teaching him at the university,” Goren concluded, a hint of triumph in his voice.

“George,” Jack said, “go and run a check on Amon Bohen. Last name is spelt B O H E N. I want to know whether he has any sort of record, even a parking ticket.”

“On it, Guv,” George answered, pushing himself out of his chair and hurrying from the room. Once he’d gone, Deakins handed them each a copy of the pathologist’s report from the body found earlier that day.

“There’s not a lot that’s different to the other victims,” Deakins said as they perused the report. “Except for one thing. A scraping taken from under the fingernails contained DNA. They’re running it now. When we get the results, I’ve also organised for our guys back home to run it and see if they can come up with something. It’s going to take at least twenty-four hours, though, before we get anymore results.” He paused, glancing up at the clock. It read a quarter past five. “Jack, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get these two back to the hotel before it gets too late.”

Jack nodded his compliance, ignoring the aggravated looks shared by Goren and Eames.

“Don’t tell us,” Goren growled as Deakins collected their coats for them. “Our doctors gave you strict instructions on bedtimes for us, too?”

“Don’t be smart, Goren,” Deakins retorted, unfazed by the detective’s open irritation. “There’s nothing more we can do today, anyway. It’d be more beneficial to get back to the hotel, have dinner, and then you can read files to your heart’s content in your room. That way, you’ll at least be ready for an early start tomorrow. Both of you,” he added, looking pointedly at Eames.

“Yes, Dad,” she replied sardonically, drawing an appreciative smirk from her partner.

“Jack, would you mind?” Deakins asked wearily. The Inspector nodded, struggling not to laugh as he pulled his coat back on and retrieved his car keys.

“Of course.”


“I’d like your permission to tell a couple of my subordinates about what happened to you,” Jack said as they arrived back at the hotel. “Specifically, George and Detective Sergeant Hazel Wallace. You haven’t met Hazel yet, but she’s been working closely with me on this investigation.”

Goren and Eames exchanged looks, and then Goren nodded. They both trusted Jack now, and if he felt it was necessary or beneficial for two of his officers to know, then that was okay by them.

“That’s fine,” Goren said. “I don’t know that we could tell it again, though…”

“That’s not necessary,” Jack assured him. I’ll have them read the files. Thankyou, though. I think it will help if they’re made aware.”

Jack paused, watching as they alighted from the car. “Same time tomorrow, then?”

Deakins nodded his approval.

“We’ll be waiting.”


“I know he means well,” Eames said wearily, “but I almost wish Deakins hadn’t come with us. We aren’t kids, for god’s sake.”

“To him, we are,” Goren’s voice floated out to her from the confines of the bathroom. “He feels responsible for us… especially after what happened back home.”

Eames sighed aloud as she flipped slowly through the pathologist’s report.

“You know what would be really great?”

“What?”

“If we could make a quick match on the epithelial tissue that was underneath that kid’s fingernails. We could have a suspect in custody by the end of tomorrow. I would so love to be home by the weekend.”

“What do you think about Amon Bohen?” Goren wondered. Eames sighed again. Bobby and his tangents…

“Do you mean as a viable suspect? He seems to be the most likely at the moment. He lied about the extent of his involvement with Mathers. We could talk to Jack tomorrow morning and see about bringing him in for questioning.”

“Have you considered the possibility that there could be more than one killer?”

Eames felt a chill down her spine at the thought. Had it come from anyone else, she might have dismissed it as pure speculation, but Bobby Goren did not make off-the-cuff suppositions just for the hell of it. If he was raising the subject, that meant he felt there was a real chance that there was a second killer on the loose.

“Double teaming, do you mean?” she asked. Silence met her question. After a moment’s hesitation, Eames got up from the sofa and walked over to the bathroom door.

“Bobby?”

Still no answer. Eames felt another chill creep through her system. She hadn’t heard a thump, so she was fairly sure that he hadn’t fallen. Maybe he’d just dozed off in the bath…

“Bobby, answer me, damn it!”

She was about to risk opening the door when it swung open seemingly of its own volition. Eames stumbled back a couple of steps in momentary fright, but recovered quickly to find Goren standing there in the doorway, still dripping wet and with only a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He looked down at her, bemusedly.

“What’s wrong?”

She glowered at him, and slapped him on the arm, drawing an indignant yelp from him.

“Don’t you dare do that to me again, Bobby Goren!”

“What?” he asked, rubbing his arm gingerly and sounding genuinely confused. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t answer me. I thought you’d fallen in there!”

“Oh… I’m sorry, Alex. I heard you, but I was getting out of the bath. I kind of needed my full concentration on that.”

He reached out, intending to pull her in for a hug, but she pushed his arm away.

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re all wet. I’ve already had my bath tonight, I don’t need to be getting wet again. Go dry off and get changed, and then I might think about letting you hug me.”

Goren grinned, and disappeared back into the bathroom.

“In answer to your question, Alex, yes. I mean double teaming. I’d hate to think we’ve got a copycat of a copycat.”

“If the killer has direct ties to Erik Mathers, he’s not really a copycat, is he?” Eames mused as she resumed her position on the sofa.

“You’re thinking that perhaps Mathers had a contingency plan?” Goren asked.

“Maybe not a contingency plan,” Eames said. “Maybe it was more like a pact, so that if anything happened to him, the friend would take over. But if that’s the case, we do have to consider that there could be more than one, don’t we? Who knows how many other people might have been indoctrinated by Mathers’ partner in the eight years since he was here.”

“And we have to take into account that it might not have been Mathers that did the indoctrinating to begin with,” Goren pointed out. The bathroom door opened again and he emerged wearing pyjama bottoms, still rubbing at his shoulders and head with the towel. “We have to consider that maybe Mathers was just one of many. The person… or persons responsible for the current killings might just be the next in a long line of brain-washed kids.”

“Brainwashed by their enigmatic, brilliant professor,” Eames concluded grimly. “We have to bring him in for questioning tomorrow.”

Goren set aside the towel, pulled on his pyjama top and sank onto the sofa beside her.

“Hopefully we’ll also be able to get a warrant for a DNA swab. If we’re really lucky, his DNA will match what was found under the kid’s nails.” He sighed faintly. “A quick arrest would be nice.”

Eames leaned in against him, curling her legs up beneath her as he slipped an arm companionably around her.

“Let’s just hope no one else goes missing in the meantime.”


Goren awoke to darkness. He lay in the silence, his sleep-fogged mind slowly rejoining the rest of his body in reluctant wakefulness. A sense of dejavu hit, and he looked around, half-expecting to see Eames twisting and turning in her bed, caught up in the throes of a nightmare. Except, her bed was empty, the covers undisturbed.

Slight movement next to him drew his attention, and he looked in the other direction to find his partner curled up in the bed beside him. She was sound asleep, her breathing deep and even.

He smiled muzzily into the darkness. That was right. After the previous night, neither had even spared the single bed so much as a glance. Well, it was fine by him. All they had to be careful of was making sure Deakins didn’t get wind of the fact that they were sharing a bed. He’d gone to great lengths to protect them from being separated by the holier-than-thou attitudes of the Powers That Be back home, but these sleeping arrangements would have been stretching even his tolerance levels further than was reasonable.

A glance at the digital clock told him it was a little after midnight. He still had at least five or six hours before he had to think about getting up. Before he could contemplate going back to sleep, though, a familiar sensation stirred below his waist. Swallowing the urge to groan, Goren carefully pushed back the blankets and eased himself out of the bed. Grabbing the walking stick and ignoring the heavy calliper, he made his way across the room and into the ensuite, taking care to close the door so as to avoid waking Eames.

He didn’t bother to turn on the light. His eyes were adjusted to the darkness, and the bright lights of the bathroom would have only served to effectively blind him.

Goren took a moment to wash his hands and headed back into the bedroom.

The sound of movement in the next room of their suite brought him up short. His breath caught momentarily in his throat before instincts kicked in and he picked his gun up off the nightstand, then leaned over and touched Eames lightly on the shoulder.

She awoke immediately, and he quickly touched his finger to his lips, then pointed wordlessly to the door. A moment later, she heard it, too. It was the distinct sound of someone moving about in the other room of their suite.

Goren waited as Eames slipped out of bed and collected her own gun before limping over to the door. Neither one of them spoke a word, instead falling back on more than five years’ worth of experience in reading each other’s reactions. Counting to three silently by nodding his head, Goren pulled the door open, allowing Eames to step past him into the next room, gun at the ready. Goren was right behind her, flicking on the light as he went.

A black clad figure came out of nowhere, hurling himself into both detectives. Eames staggered to the side, thrown momentarily off balance. Goren, however, caught the full force of the collision, and went down with a jarring crash, a cry of pain tearing loose from his throat.

Their attacker scrambled up and bolted for the door, apparently in no mood to continue the fight. Eames lifted her gun and, without hesitation, fired a parting shot. The bullet struck the doorframe, just barely missing their fleeing assailant. With a concerned look at her partner, Eames ran over to the door and looked out just in time to see a flash of black disappearing around the corner at the end of the hallway. Hurrying over to the phone, Eames snatched it off the hook and dialled hotel security.

“This is Detective Eames in Room 219, reporting someone breaking into our room. He’s about five foot one, dressed entirely in black. …Yes, please call the police. Sorry…?” She paused, looking back at Goren, who had pushed himself up against the wall. “No, I don’t think we need an ambulance, but could you please send someone up with ice? A lot of ice. Thankyou.”

She hung up just as Deakins ran in, clad only in pyjama bottoms, gun in hand.

“What the hell happened…?”

“Someone broke into our room,” Eames told him grimly as she strode over to Goren’s side. “Whoever it was knocked Bobby over.”

“Are you all right?” Deakins asked as he hurried over.

Goren nodded, though the look on his face suggested otherwise.

“Nothing’s broken. Just… jarred, I think.”

Deakins eyed Goren’s right leg worriedly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Goren muttered. “Might need some help getting up off the floor, though…”

Exchanging rueful looks, Deakins and Eames somehow managed between them to help Goren get back to his feet and guide him back into the bedroom. They’d just helped him onto the bed when a voice called out from the other room.

“Excuse me…?”

“That’ll be security,” Eames murmured, leaving Goren and Deakins to go and speak to the newcomers.

“Are you really sure you’re all right?” Deakins asked again, watching Goren with genuine concern. Goren nodded slowly, too busy concentrating on keeping his breathing steady to be irritated at the repeated question.

“I think so. Kind of glad I have a physio session tomorrow, though.”

Amusement flickered across Deakins’ face that was tempered by ill-concealed worry. He believed there was no serious damage done – even at his most frustrated, Goren wouldn’t have been foolish enough to pretend no harm had been done if that were not the case. But the fact that Goren admitted to being relieved at the prospect of an impending physio session hinted strongly at just how much pain he was in right then.

Eames came back in, looking tired and frustrated. She carried with her a large bag of ice.

“Security spotted the guy running through the lobby, but they weren’t quick enough to stop him. The Chief of Security called the police, though. A car is on its way.”

Deakins nodded.

“Good. What do you want done with that ice, Alex?”

“Could you grab a handtowel from the kitchenette, sir?” she asked as she helped Goren to roll up the leg of his pyjama pants. “I’ll wrap some of the ice in it for Bobby’s leg. Otherwise it’s going to swell up like a balloon.”

“Okay.”

He disappeared out of the room to do as she’d asked. As soon as he was out of sight, Alex dove across the room, and quickly yanked the blankets back on the single bed, thoroughly messing them up.

“What are you doing…?” Goren asked, confused by her seemingly bizarre actions. She came back to his side, frowning just slightly.

“Do you want to try explaining to Deakins why the single bed hasn’t been slept in?”

“Oh…”

“Exactly. Now shut up.”

Deakins came back in with a couple of handtowels in hand. Eames carefully tipped ice into each one and tied them off, and then he and Eames held them carefully against Goren’s leg.

“By the way…” Deakins said casually after a moment. She glanced at him questioningly.

“What?”

“I will be wanting an explanation later on as to why only one of these beds has been slept in.”

Goren and Eames exchanged rueful looks.

“Damn,” Eames muttered. Not daring to look at Deakins, she missed the amused smirk that passed fleetingly across his lips. Goren, however, didn’t.

“You knew?” he asked incredulously.

“No, but it doesn’t surprise me,” Deakins answered. “Especially when you came down yesterday morning and said you’d both slept well.”

When they looked at him questioningly, he smiled sympathetically. “I’ve seen your psych evaluations. I know about the nightmares. If it gets you both through the night, then who am I to judge?” He paused, then favoured them both with a stern look. “Just make sure it doesn’t go any further than sleeping in the same bed. Understand?”

They didn’t have a chance to answer. A moment later, Jack strode in, with Mullett right behind him.

“What the blazes happened here?” Jack burst out, wincing a little at the sight of Goren’s scarred leg.

“Someone broke into our room,” Eames explained. “Bobby got knocked down.”

“Good lord, are you all right?” Mullett asked, somehow managing to assume an air of genuine alarm and concern while maintaining a safe distance. Jack, however, strode straight up to the bedside.

“Should we be calling for an ambulance?”

“It’s nothing that plenty of ice and an emergency session of physio won’t cure,” Eames reassured him.

“Any idea what this prowler might have been after?”

For a long moment, Goren and Eames just looked at each other. Then, abruptly, they both spoke simultaneously as realisation struck.

“The case notes!”

Eames almost jumped off the bed, and bolted past Mullett. A minute later, she came back looking grim.

“Everything’s been rifled, there are papers all over the place. I couldn’t tell you if anything’s missing.”

“It had to be the killer,” Deakins murmured. “He wanted to see what we’ve got.”

“The killer,” Goren agreed. “Or his accomplice.”

“Accomplice?” Mullett echoed, sounding horrified. “Are you saying there are two killers out there?”

Even Deakins was looking at Goren oddly. Eames caught the look, and jumped to her partner’s defence.

“It’s something we were tossing around last night. We’ve all be assuming that Erik Mathers came over here, and brainwashed someone into his way of thinking. What if it was the other way around? What if Mathers was the one who got brainwashed?”

Jack quickly caught on to her meaning.

“By someone like Professor Bohen, you mean?”

“We already know he lied about the extent of his relationship with Mathers,” Goren pointed out. “It’s not much of a stretch to believe that he could have been the instigator all along.”

“Okay, people, save the theories for later,” Deakins interrupted. “Let’s just focus on the current issue. Whether it was the killer, or an accomplice, it doesn’t really matter. The point is, they knew where to find you two.”

“He’s right,” Jack agreed. “The next visit might not be quite so amiable.”

Again, Goren and Eames exchanged glances. The same thought had occurred to them both, but neither had cared to voice that worry.

“So what do you want to do?” Goren asked, starting to feel irritable. “Change hotels?”

“I think we may have to,” Deakins said reluctantly. “I don’t want to be taking pointless risks. It isn’t worth it.”

“Why don’t you just wrap us up in cotton wool, and tuck us away somewhere until it’s time to go home?” Eames grumbled.

“I might have a solution,” Jack suggested, sensing the tensions starting to rise again. “I have two spare bedrooms at my house. You’re welcome to use them… if you like.”

Silence met the statement. Then, Deakins looked at Goren and Eames.

“It’s up to you. What do you want to do?”

“It’d be logical,” Goren conceded. Eames nodded her agreement.

“Fine by me.”

“Thankyou, Jack,” Deakins said sincerely. “We appreciate it.”

“What will you do, then?” Eames asked.

“I’ll stay here,” Deakins said decisively.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Mullett asked. Deakins favoured Mullett with one of his best ‘don’t-be-so-damned-stupid’ looks.

“I don’t think it’s my safety we need to be concerned about here. Do you?”

Mullett coughed, looking embarrassed. Goren and Eames exchanged small smiles. Score one to Deakins.

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s true…”

Jack took a step towards the door.

“All right, then. We’ll get going, leave you folks in peace. I’ll come by a little bit later in the morning, shall I? Give you a chance to recover from the excitement. We can transfer your things to my place before heading into CID.”

“We need to bring Bohen in for questioning in the morning,” Goren said as Jack and Mullett retreated. Jack nodded.

“It’s all taken care of. I’ve got George set to pick him up first thing in the morning. Don’t worry, Bobby. We won’t start on him without you.”

Goren had to grin, despite the pain. Then Jack and Mullett were gone, leaving them alone.

“I know I’ve already asked this two or three times,” Deakins said once they’d gone. “But you are all right, aren’t you, Bobby?”

Goren hesitated in answering, looking down at his leg with rueful acceptance.

“It’s going to hurt like hell later. It hurts like hell now.”

“You want painkillers?” Eames asked. He nodded reluctantly.

“Yeah, I think I’d better. Otherwise I’m not going to sleep again tonight.”

“Where are they?” Deakins asked. Eames pointed to the drawer in the nightstand on her side of the bed.

“In that drawer,” she told him. “The little bottle with the yellow label. That has the painkillers for night time.”

Deakins quickly found the small pill bottle.

“I find it curious that you’ve each taken charge the other’s medication,” he commented as he handed the bottle to Eames so she could extract the correct dosage.

“It was our doctors’ idea,” Eames murmured, watching carefully to make sure Goren swallowed both pills. “And it’s just for the stronger painkillers that they prescribed for us. It’s not that they were worried we’d take too many, and OD. It was more to make sure that we do actually take them when we need them. You may have noticed that Bobby, in particular, can be a little recalcitrant when it comes to taking something when the pain gets really bad. I think our doctors figured that if we supervised each other, we’d get the stronger painkillers when we really need them.”

Deakins nodded wordlessly. He’d have to have another word with the pair’s doctors when they got home, thanking them for their cunning tactics. It was true, Goren tended to be a little to stoic for his own good sometimes, and to hand responsibility for the administering of stronger painkillers over to Eames was a stroke of genius. She was the one person who would not take any of his tough guy bullshit.

“Okay,” Eames murmured as Goren settled down against the pillows. She favoured Deakins with a small smile. “We’re okay now, sir.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. You can go back to bed. Um… There might be a bit of trouble later this morning… When I fired my gun, I hit the doorframe…”

“I’ll take care of that,” Deakins reassured her as he handed her the handtowel filled with melting ice, and headed for the door. “Just try and get some rest, both of you.”

Then they were alone.

“There’s one drawback, you know.”

Eames regarded Goren in confusion. “What do you mean? Drawback to what?”

“Staying with Jack. We won’t get away with sharing a bed there.”

She smiled, and laughed softly.

“Did you see Deakins’ face? I nearly had a heart attack. I keep forgetting how damned perceptive he is.”

“He didn’t get to be captain of Major Case purely by kissing ass,” Goren commented dryly.

“Well, I thought we were screwed. I can’t believe he doesn’t care!”

“I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t care. He does… He just knows it wouldn’t be in anyone’s interest to try and stop it.”

“You think we should tell him about what happened in Mathers’ cabin that night?”

“He wouldn’t expect us to… So, yeah. I think we should. Later, though.” He trailed off, yawning widely. “Right now, I need sleep. And so do you.”

Eames nodded and carefully put the rest of the ice away, in the kitchenette’s sink where it could melt harmlessly away. She then climbed carefully into bed beside him, after placing her gun carefully on the side table, easily within reach.

“Just in case.”

There was no answer, and when she looked she was not surprised to find that Goren was already asleep. The painkillers she’d given him out of that particular tiny bottle were certainly effective. Smiling faintly to herself, she settled down beside him, and soon slid off to sleep.

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