Chapter Twelve, Finale

“Ok, Baby.  I’m going to give you a brief update, then I’m getting down to business.”  Eve sat at her desk in her home office.  Wearing a soft cashmere robe her husband had selected and purchased for her, bare feet on the desk crossed at the ankles.  Her link was propped on a nearby table, capturing her relaxed image.  The yoyo she held whizzed around, wielded casually by an expert.  “There was a gas explosion right in front of Cop Central, underground.  Took a subway car off its tracks and pushed a good half of it up through the street.  Came up ten feet from Peabody and me while I was buying her lunch at a glidecart.  Water main breaks, everything floods.  Long story short, Whitney goes into the water to help with the rescue, but that was because Anna had just told him her mother was coming for Thanksgiving.  Peabody jumps in, praying to Jesus that Reo takes McNab if a giant mutant sewer alligator eats her.  They’ve been fighting and I sweartagod she had bait in her hand when she went in.  Carmichael strips down to what looks like sexware, and i gotta tell you, babe, she looks good.  Anyway, she’s gotta go into the fray because her youngest kid is counting on her to be on the news due to the ebook report he didn’t finish.  Something to do with the teacher giving him extra time cause his mom’s a cop.   Trueheart strips off and a dozen women from Records ran down and threw themselves into the chasm.”  Eve took a long swallow of coffee, then nibbled at a fancy shaped potato puff since Summerset had provided a tray full.  Then she looked directly at her link.  “Roarke, what was I going to do, not jump in with them and look like a wuss?  If the top bitch cop looks afraid of a little water, the city’s gonna riot.”  She nodded righteously.  Started working the yoyo again.  “And you should know I let three of the bitches you slept with who’re always hanging around with the mayor’s wife drown.”  She hit a button on her desk panel.  “Summerset.”  
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“Unless there is a hostile alien invasion and those aliens are at the front gate with flamethrowers, I do not want to be disturbed for the next hour.  Maybe two.  Got that?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.  I believe Roarke had the anti-flame throwing alien devices installed last month.”
“Good.”  Eve engaged the locks and soundproofing.  She stood up, stretched, let the robe fall to the floor.  She was wearing a  simple blue waist cincher, thigh hose with flowered garters, and now slid on matching stiletto heels.  Casually, she lifted a plain brown paper bag from under the desk.  She sat back down in the chair.  “I decided that since it’s been almost four weeks since I’ve seen you, I’ve got to just take the single woman’s route.  So I made some purchases.”  She put the bag on her desk, began to take the contents out and line them up.  “This one the clerk had to explain to me.”  She held up a piece of knotted plastic that began to wind itself up and down, knotting and unknotting while it hummed quietly.  Again, Eve looked directly at her recording link.  “I may not need you ever again, darling.”  She tilted back in her desk chair, cocking one leg over the arm, and contemplating the writhing sex toy.  “Yes.  I may never need you or any man again.”  And leaning her head back against the soft black leather, began a journey of self-discovery.
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Emergency Management had brought in heavy duty equipment during the night.  And while the fifty foot void would take days to repair, the subway train was dismantled and removed, the water drained, and city engineers were already overseeing restorations.
Jenkinson, being dubbed Sick Bastard of the homicide bullpen, had his first joke ready when Eve arrived the next day.  “Hey, Dallas.  Got one for you.”  And he launched in …(the following is taken from MyStKittsDiveBuddy)  One day, a diver was enjoying the aquatic world 20 feet below sea level. He noticed a guy at the same depth he was, with no scuba gear on whatsoever.
The diver went below another 10 feet, but the guy joined him a minute later. The diver went below 15 more feet, a minute later, the same guy joined him.
This confused the diver, so he took out a waterproof chalkboard, and wrote, "How the heck are you able to stay under this deep without equipment?"
The guy took the board and chalk, erased what the diver had written, and wrote, "I'm drowning, you moron
Eve laughed.
Baxter brought in bottles of Underwater Sun Screen that were actually manufactured by one of Roarke’s companies, and gave them to Eve, Peabody, Carmichael and Trueheart.
Commander Whitney called an initial debriefing for Eve’s department and Dr. Charlotte Mira the elegant top police psychiatric profiler took her place beside the large man.  Solemnly, she gave brief eye contact to everyone there, drew in a calm breath, and said, “Do you know what SCUBA really stands for?”  No one responded.  They waited in respectful silence.  “Some Come Up Barely Alive.”
There was a moment of silence.  Then the room exploded in laughter.
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Eve parked the the black 2010 Stingray at the bottom of the stairs.  She didn’t see how Summerset could bitch about it, since it was one of Roarke’s prized cars.  She’d actually parked it in a pay garage while at work.  The house looked quieter than usual, she thought, starting up the stairs.  The lighting in each window was more muted, softer.  Maybe they were conserving energy.
She walked through the door, ready with two good insults uniform Carmichael had been sharing with a suspect on a glide passing hers.  The foyer was empty.
Then she felt him.  Like a gut punch that took the breath away, Eve felt her mate’s presence.  She looked up and he was coming down the stairs in a rush.  She never even got his name out.  He simply bent and stole her up over his shoulder, turned and took the stairs back up, two at a time.  Her eyes closed and she began to plant kisses against his back through the crisp black shirt, fingers kneading his sides.  Home.  He was home.  The emptiness was being filled.
Galahad yowled as he was rudely awakened from sleep by the crush of bodies on his bed.  Disgusted, he leaped off.  Neither of the humans noticed.
“Eve?”  Roarke was serious in the business of undressing his wife as fast as humanly possible.
“You couldn’t just get naked” Eve complained bitterly, struggling with his tie, which was refusing to come unknotted.
“I love you.”  He hadn’t said the words to her in four weeks.  “I love you.”
She took the words and the emotions inside her, and felt her world steady.  He was home and he was hers.  “You’d better,” she whispered, staring up at him, fingers still tugging on the damn tie.  “Because I think I lost your Rambler somewhere.”
End.