A drunken night with Mavis at the Blue Squirrel with so much laughter it hurt the ribs. The mutilated body of a child she'd been too late to save.
The weeping of those left behind and the screams of the dead.
The first time she'd seen Roarke, that dazzling face onscreen in her office.
Then back, always back to a cold room with a dirty red light pulsing against the window. The knife in her hand dripping with blood, and the pain shrieking so wild, so loud, she could hear nothing else. Could be nothing else.
When she woke, it was dark, and she was empty.
Her head throbbed with a dull, consistent ache that was the dregs of weeping and grief. Her body felt hollow, as if the bones had slipped away while she'd slept.
She wanted to sleep again, to just go away.
He moved through the dark, quiet as a shadow. The bed shifted slightly as he sat beside her, found her hand. "Do you want the light?"
"No." Her voice felt rusty, but she didn't bother to clear it. "No, I don't want anything. You didn't have to stay here, in the dark."
"Did you think I'd let you wake alone?" He brought her hand to his lips. "You're not alone."
She wanted to weep again, could feel the tears beating at the backs of her eyes. Hot, helpless. Useless. "Who called you?"
"Peabody. She and Feeney were here; so was Mira. McNab's called several times. And Nadine."
"I can't talk to them."
"All right. Mavis is downstairs. She won't leave, and I can't ask her to."
"What am I supposed to say to her? To anyone? God, Roarke, I'm stripped. The next time I go into Central, it'll be to interview as a murder suspect."
"I've contacted a lawyer. You've nothing to worry about there. If and when you agree to interview, it'll be here, in your own home, on your own terms. Eve."
He could see her silhouette, the way she turned away from him and stared into the dark. Gently, he cupped her face, turned it toward him. "No one you work with, no one who knows you believes you had anything to do with what happened to Bowers."
"I don't even care about that. It's nothing but form. No physical evidence, no clear motive, and the opportunity is slim. I don't care about that," she repeated and hated, hated the way her breath hitched. "They'll have a cloud but no proof, not enough for the PA, but enough to keep my badge away. Enough to keep me out."
"You've people who care about you who'll work to see that doesn't happen."
"It has happened," she said flatly. "And nothing can change it. You can't change it. I just want to sleep." She shifted away, shut her eyes. "I'm tired. Go down with Mavis, I'm better off alone now."
He ran a hand over her hair. He'd give her the night to grieve, to escape.
But when he left her alone, she opened her eyes, stared at nothing. And didn't sleep.
Getting out of bed in the morning seemed like wasted effort.
She shifted, looked up through the glass overhead. The snow was gone and the sky was the dull gray of depression. She tried to think of some reason to get up, get dressed, but could think of nothing, could feel nothing but a low, dragging fatigue.
She turned her head, and there was Roarke in the sitting area, sipping coffee and watching her.
"You've slept long enough, Eve. You can't go on hiding in here."
"It seems like a good idea right now."
"The longer it does, the more you'll lose. Get up."
She sat up, but drew her knees into her chest and rested her head on them. "I don't have anything to do, nowhere to go."
"We can go anywhere you like. I've cleared my schedule for a couple of weeks."
"You didn't have to do that." Anger struggled to surface but turned pale and listless and faded. "I don't want to go anywhere."
"Then we'll stay home. But you're not lying in bed with the covers over your head."
A bubble of resentment worked its way free. "I didn't have the covers over my head," she muttered. And what did he know? she thought. How could he know how she felt? But there was enough pride left to have her getting up, dragging on a robe.
Pleased with the small victory, he poured her coffee, topped off his own. "I've eaten," he said casually, "but I don't believe Mavis has."
"Mavis?"
"Yes, she stayed last night." He reached over, pressed a button in the interhouse 'link. "She'll keep you company."
"No, I don't want – "
But it was too late as Mavis's face swam on-screen. "Roarke, is she awake yet – Dallas!" Her smile broke out, a little wobbly, but there, as she spotted Eve. "I'll be right there."
"I don't want to talk to anyone," Eve said furiously when the screen went blank. "Can't you understand that?"
"I understand very well." He rose, laid his hands on her shoulders. It broke his heart as he felt them droop. "You and I went through a large part of our lives without having anyone who mattered or who we mattered to. So I understand very well what it is to have someone." He leaned forward to press his lips to her brow. "To need someone. Talk to Mavis."
"I've got nothing to say." Her eyes filled again and burned.
"Then listen." He squeezed her shoulders once, then turned as the door burst open and Mavis flew in. "I'll leave you two alone," he said, but he doubted either of them heard him as Mavis was already wrapping herself around Eve and babbling.
"Those suck-faced pissheads," he heard her sob out, and he nearly smiled as he closed the door.
"Okay," Eve murmured and buried her face in Mavis's blue hair. "Okay."
"I wanted to go find Whitney and call him a suck-faced pisshead in person, but Leonardo said it was better to come straight here. I'm sorry, so sorry, so sorry." She reared back so abruptly Eve nearly went down. "What the hell's wrong with them!" Mavis demanded, throwing her arms out and sending the diaphanous pink sleeves of what might have been a nighty flapping.
"It's procedure," Eve managed.
"Well, screw that in the ass sideways. No way they're going to get away with this. I bet Roarke's already hired a platoon of hot-shit lawyers to sue their suck-faces off. You'll own the goddamn city of New York when this is over."
"I just want my badge." And because it was Mavis, Eve dropped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. "I've got nothing without it, Mavis."
"You'll get it back." Shaken, Mavis sat, draped an arm around Eve's shoulders. "You always make the right thing happen, Dallas."
"I'm locked out." Weary, Eve sat back, closed her eyes. "You can't make things happen when they're happening to you."
"You made them happen for me. When you collared me all those years ago, it changed my life."
It was an effort, but Eve worked up a ghost of a smile. "Which time?"
"The first time – the other couple were just like, you know, slips. You made me wonder if I could be more than a grifter scamming marks, then you made me see I could. And last year when things were bad for me, when it looked like they were going to put me in a cage, you were there for me. You made the right things happen."
"I had the badge, I had control." Her eyes went bleak again. "I had the job."
"Well, now you've got me and you've got the iciest guy on or off planet. And that's not all. You know how many people called here last night? Roarke wanted to stay up here with you so I asked Summerset if I could, like, take the calls and stuff. They just kept coming in."
"How many from reporters wanting a story?"
Mavis sniffed, then got up to call up the menu on the AutoChef. Roarke had given her orders to see that Eve ate, and she intended to follow them. "I know how to ditch the media dogs. Let's have ice cream.".
"I'm not hungry."
"You don't need to be hungry for ice cream and – oh yeah there's a God – chocolate chip cookies. Mag squared."
"Mavis – "
"You took care of me when I needed you," Mavis said quietly. "Don't make me feel like you don't need me."