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Mike paces around the room, thinking, thinking, his thoughts going in circles...Goren couldn't be dead, could he? He could, but why now? Why all that, if she was just going to shoot him?

He finally sits, staring at the case notes spread out in front of him. The words mean nothing, they're just there, random squiggles running across the mass of paper. Absentmindedly, he runs his hand up and down the scars on his forearms. After a while, he glances down at them. Twenty-six years have helped them fade, but they still zig-zag his skin...as if he needed a reminder of the look in Kath's eyes as she launched herself at him. He gazes at the scars, then the notes - there is something almost coming together - almost.

She was going to kill me...but not at first. She said, she said she'd kill both of us, because I didn't love her..."He'll never love me." What's going on? Why? Even crazy people have patterns.

Suddenly, it begins to snap into place. There's no way Bobby is dead. No way. She's never had him, so she'd never be conviced she couldn't so soon. That's not how a psycho works - if she killed him, she'd kill herself, too. This is just her way of making us give up, of keeping him to herself! All this crap was to isolate him; when that didn't work, she actually just grabbed him. Or maybe she wanted to break Bobby down so that he'd beleive we'd be glad to be rid of him, glad it was over.
Geezus, and I almost was. This makes sense. Too much sense.


He glances back at the notes - the mess...something about the mess, and notes and Bobby...
"That binder! That fucking binder!"

Grabbing his coat, Mike slams the door and runs down the stairs...the only person who'd come close to figuring out Nicole had a blueprint just waiting to be followed.

And in the car, the radio plays

You think that I go home at night
Take off my clothes, turn out the lights
But I burn letters that I write
To you, to make you love me

Yeah, I drive naked through the park
And run the stop sign in the dark
Stand in the street, yell out my heart
To make, to make you love me

I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho

You may not believe in me
But I believe in you
So I still take the trash out
Does that make me too normal for you?

So dig a little deeper, cause
You still don't get it yet
See me lickin' my lips, need a primitive fix
And I'll make, I'll make you love me

I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess

See me jump through hoops for you
You stand there watching me performing
What exactly do you do?
Have you ever thought it's you that's boring?
Who the hell are you?

I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho

Comments

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
nypd_millie_viz
Apr. 19th, 2006 07:21 am (UTC)
::She sat in the living room, like her husband, unable to sleep. While he pondered case notes in the kitchen, she flipped through infomercials and reruns of really bad sitcoms. The low hum of the television, coupled with the occasional rustling of papers were the only noises in the apartment. And suddenly, movement. She watched him fly right by her, a look of determination on his face. She didn't have time to question him--before she knew it, he was out the door, and she knew he'd just thought of something major. Whatever it was, she hoped it was right, hoped it would bring back Bobby or find Carver or at least get them all one step closer to putting that bitch behind bars. She got up herself and began pacing, hoping he'd call and tell her what was going on, hoping that this would all be resolved. Until it was, she doubted there would be much sleep::
det_mike_logan
Apr. 19th, 2006 07:40 am (UTC)
::He'd taken the steps two at a time, and it wasn't until he found himself running for the subway, and skidding to a stop next to the car that he remembered - going back up would take too much time. Grabbing his phone, he dialed home -
"Millie - I'm heading to Bobby's. His notes - it'll all be in there."
nypd_millie_viz
Apr. 19th, 2006 07:43 am (UTC)
::She jumped, startled by the sound of the phone. She picked it up, and before she had a chance to say "hello," he'd already spoken.::

"Bobby's? Notes? What'll all be in there? Do you even have a key to get in there?"
det_mike_logan
Apr. 19th, 2006 07:48 am (UTC)
"I have ways of getting in - and nobody knows Wallace like Bobby. His notes - if we have any hope of getting him back, we've got to think like he does - and what he thinks is in that damn binder."
nypd_millie_viz
Apr. 19th, 2006 07:56 am (UTC)
"Alright."

::She paused, absently reaching out her hand, to touch his chest, like she often did for reassurance. But he wasn't there. He was going into the mind of Bobby Goren::

"Mike? Be careful."
det_mike_logan
Apr. 19th, 2006 08:16 am (UTC)
"I will, but - I'll be back, ok?" He swerved to avoid the oncoming bus.
Reaching Bobby's apartment, he picked the locks and slipped in. Sure enough...there it was. He grabbed it, flipped it open, and called back.
"Millie? Baby, I've got it."
nypd_millie_viz
Apr. 19th, 2006 08:19 am (UTC)
::She took a breath. He had it. The Mother of all Binders::

"You gonna look at it right there or bring it home?"
det_mike_logan
Apr. 19th, 2006 08:29 am (UTC)
::He stood, thumbing through it, and realized how creepy this was::
"I'm coming back with it. You know, it's one thing to have a Goren moment - I think I don't wanna be surrounded by his stuff if I have another."
::Giving one last look around, he closed the door, and headed home::
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )