Well USA Network, you suck balls.
And even if Vincent D'Onofrio was ready to leave. Goren and Eames deserved a whole season to make an exit, not a "two parter". Here is my take on how it should be done.
I don't own em' Cause if I did I'd never eff them over like USA did.
Funeral for a Friend
It wasn't really very cold that October day. The trees, with their vibrant oranges and reds, barely moved in the damp air that surrounded him. Yet Robert Goren felt as if an arctic breeze was blowing through him, chilling him to the bone. He watched, as he was encircled by people mourning. Some stoic, blue coats, some bereaved family crying so hard, they were literally choking on their tears. And here he was, at the helm. He felt like he was drowning. Or that sensation when you get off an obnoxious, spinning, amusement park ride. Like the world is quickly rotating sideways and you're stuck, unable to move, convinced you'll fall.
He couldn't cry
Or attempt stoic
Or even choke…. He was paralyzed.
The words of a priest slid in and out of his conscious. Something about eternal life and forgiveness. Robert brushed those words off like a dog brushes fleas. He could not be consoled right now. Certainly not by mere words. Promises of faith and the ever-after, were tiny raindrops in a sea of something huge and dark that was building in Goren's soul.
In reality he wasn't sure he had a soul anymore. He figured what was left of it, lay in that small marble box of ashes on the ground, at the feet of this circle of mourners.
The ashes of his partner.
The ashes of Alexandra Eames
Like robots, they shifted and moved to their cars. A few said kind words to the "loose cannon" or the "nut job" as he knew they liked to refer to him in times of lesser tragedy. He heard their words, nodded in response. But he listened to none of it. And after everyone slipped away, friends, colleagues, and family. Robert Goren was the only one left standing over the grave of Alex Eames. Even in death he found it almost impossible to leave her side. The funeral director was brave or ignorant enough to put a hand on Bobby's shoulder.
"We'll take care of her from here…."
With those words, Bobby numbly walked to his car.
He slid in the driver's seat and with a deep breath, he turned over the ignition. Glancing out the passenger's side window for one last look at his partner's final resting place, that's when it caught his eye.
It was a small white envelope on the passenger's seat. Nothing was written on the outside, but even in his never-ending grief, it made his heart skip a beat. Though maybe it was just some anonymous sympathy card. Someone too careless to even write Bobby or Robert or Detective Goren on the envelope. Then Bobby started to fumble through his already broken memory to try and remember if he even locked the car during the funeral.
He couldn't remember.
He made a promise to himself when Ross called and told him Alex had died. He promised to never forget a moment he spent with her. All his memories of her would take precedence over any day to day mundane bullshit. Bullshit, like whether he locked his car or not.
He picked up the envelope. It appeared to have some object in it. Something metallic that made a sliding noise when Bobby moved the envelope around.
Carefully he slid the envelope open and a necklace poured out into his hands. It was a necklace he immediately recognized. He felt a sensation of warmth break through his death chill for a moment as he fingered and held Alex's gold chain with the small cross. He knew this necklace so well, not only because it adorned the neck of his beloved partner for years. But he was the one who put it there. Well, at the very least, he bought it for her. He would have loved to have been the one to trail his fingers around her delicate neck, and fasten the necklace in it's rightful place. But he settled for buying her this trinket, in appreciation for all she went through after Jo Gage kidnapped her. He wanted to let Alex know…. Let her know he loved her. But all he could say when he gave her the necklace was how much the partnership meant and he hoped she was ok.
He always figured she knew.
He hoped anyway.
She wore that necklace everyday, almost. She wore it so much, he stopped noticing. Especially after his own turmoil engulfed his time and energy.
Now his warm little feelings were replaced by a collective kick in the stomach. He remembered Alex yelling at him after his undercover operation, two years ago. He couldn't make her see and she was so mad and hurt. And it took him a few weeks to understand the "hurt" part.
Trying to brush that memory aside, he further explored the envelope. Inside was a tiny piece of paper. He opened it.
3000 Battery Place
South of Chelsea Piers
Near South Cove Park
It was directions to an old warehouse Bobby was somewhat familiar with, from a past case. But that wasn't what intrigued him. What intrigued him, were the directions.
They were written in Alex's handwriting.