Chapter 1: A Missing Child

A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter;
he who finds one finds a treasure.
A faithful friend is beyond price,
no sum cam balance his worth.--Sirach 6:14-15
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Cora Richards held her coffee cup in both hands as she stepped off the deck while her two-year-old charge, Teddy, ran in circles in the big yard, chasing the dog and giggling. Gordon, the big golden retriever who was Teddy's best friend, dropped to the ground and rolled onto his side. Teddy hugged him and Cora smiled.

"Cora! Firsty. Wanna jooooos, peez!"

"All right, honey. I'll get you some juice."

She went into the house, walked across the kitchen and pulled the orange juice out of the refrigerator. Filling Teddy's sippy cup, she opened the refrigerator door to place the juice back on the shelf. A noise behind her caught her attention and she smiled, turning toward the little boy, and everything went black.

Out in the yard, Teddy continued to play with Gordon. As the day wore on, he got hungry and climbed up onto the deck to go into the house, but he couldn't get the door open. When he banged on the glass and called for his caretaker, there was no answer. So he crossed the yard, managed to get the gate open and wandered out of the yard. With a bark, Gordon ran after him.
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Senator Todd Harriman sat in his recliner with his newspaper. It had been a long day of deliberation and he was tired and frustrated. The several votes they had taken over the course of the day had not gone the way he wanted. He'd enjoyed a good dinner, however, and he was beginning to unwind. He took a drink of the bourbon and coke from the glass on the end table, and his wife Sandra sat across the room from him with her daily crossword.

When the phone rang, the senator smiled. His daughter called them every night so Teddy could tell them good night. He loved his little grandson dearly. Picking up the phone from its cradle he brought the receiver to his ear. "Hello."

After listening intently for several moments, the color drained from his face. "All right, honey. Calm down. Did you call the police?"

His wife looked up from her puzzle, alarmed. Harriman nodded slowly. "Vicky, is Chris home? Okay. I'll make a call myself and we'll be there in a half hour."

Hanging up the phone, he looked at his wife. "Something horrible has happened. Vicky just got home from work. Cora..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Cora has been killed and Teddy is missing. I'm going to call the commissioner and get someone out there to help with this. Then I'm heading out there myself. Vicky is hysterical."

Sandra sat there for a long moment, shocked by the news he had just given her. Cora...the sweet woman who had helped Vicky with Teddy after he was born and stayed to care for him when she went back to work at the advertising agency...sweet, loving Cora, loved like a member of the family...

Sandra set her puzzle aside. "Should I call Steven when you're done?"

"Sandy, leave the boy at school."

"But Teddy is his nephew, Todd."

Harriman braced the receiver with his shoulder. "Let's find out what's going on first. Hello? Commissioner? This is Todd Harriman. I'm sorry to bother you at home but..."
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Alex Eames had taken advantage of a light day to leave early and head to her sister's for dinner. When her phone rang in the middle of the meal, she sighed as she pulled it from her pocket. Her partner knew she was having dinner with her sister's family; it had to be a call-out. Sure enough, the captain's name appeared on her caller ID. With a heavy sigh, she flipped the phone open. "Eames."

Call your partner, Eames, and head out to Long Island. We have a situation out there and I want the two of you to handle it.

"What kind of situation?"

Senator Todd Harriman's grandson is missing and his caretaker has been murdered. This is high profile, detective. Keep an eye on your partner.

"Don't worry about him," she answered, annoyed, as she wrote down the address he gave her.

Keep me informed.

"Don't I always?" she replied sharply.

Terminating the call, she offered a contrite look to her sister and brother-in-law. "I have to go. Thanks for dinner."

Rising, she kissed her nephew and carried her plate into the kitchen. Her sister met her there. "Maybe you can come back out on Sunday? It's Aaron's birthday."

"I'll try, but no promises. I'll call you tomorrow."

One quick hug and she was gone.
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Goren was laying on his couch, one foot flat on the floor, one on the couch. The television was on, but he wasn't watching it. An untouched drink was propped on his chest, the fingers of his right hand curled around the glass while his left hand was tucked beneath his head. He let his mind wander and he mused over how dissatisfied he was lately with everything. Ever since his mother died, he felt everything else in his life slowly spiraling out of control. Only one thing kept him grounded, and that, as always, was his partner. They had hit a few rocky patches lately, but he found that when he needed her most, she was always there. Everyone had bad days. His just seemed to stretch into weeks, and he was in the middle of one now. Tipping his head up, he brought the glass to his lips as the phone rang.

Deciding to ignore it, he took a drink and let his head drop back. The ringing continued. After it stopped, his cell phone began to ring, buzzing on the counter as it vibrated. He let out a slow, weary breath and got up. Eames cell, the caller ID displayed.

Damn, he thought. "Goren."

Is everything okay?

"About as okay as it gets. What's wrong?"

We have a call out.

"We're not on call."

This is different. Senator Harriman's grandson is missing and the boy's caretaker was killed. Ross wants us on it.

Another weary sigh, this time in resignation. "Where?"

Long Island. Do you want the address or do you want me to pick you up?

He shook his head as though she could see him. "It's out of your way. Give me the address." He wrote it down and tore the page off. "I'll meet you out there."

All right.

"Eames?"

What is it, Bobby?

He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Be careful."

A pause, then, I will. You do the same.

He closed the phone and slid it into his pocket. In the bedroom, he grabbed his off duty weapon and slid the holster onto his belt, refastening it as he returned to the living room. Grabbing his badge, he added it to his belt, snatched the keys from the counter and headed toward the couch. For a moment, he studied the glass on the coffee table. Then he reached out, hit the off button on the remote and, grabbing his coat, left the apartment.
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The scene was in chaos when he arrived. Dogs and their handlers were traversing the yard before heading out the gate and down the street. A uniformed man approached him. "Can I help you?" he asked, trying to sound official.

Goren's eyes swept the yard as he moved his coat and slid his badge off his belt, showing it to the officer as he clipped it to the lapel of his coat. His dark gaze returned to the young officer, who did not appear to be more than twenty years old. The young man shifted uncomfortably as Goren spoke. "Goren. Major Case. My partner will be here soon. Have you found any leads?"

The officer shook his head. "Not yet, sir. We have four K-9s out trying to find the scent trail and a chopper with infared up in the air. It's only been twenty minutes since we got all that rolling. The vic's name is Cora Richards, 58 years old. She was the little boy's caretaker."

Goren turned his head when Eames' car pulled up, and he waited. Once she was at his side, he repeated what the young officer had told him and they entered the house. The CSU techs were already combing the scene. In the kitchen, Goren's eyes took in the surroundings quickly and he let his mind gather its first impression. Then he walked to the body as Eames went into the living room to talk with Vicky Yarborough, her husband and her parents, who had already arrived. He heard a voice that carried the tone of an experienced speaker. The senator. Let Eames handle him. It was much safer for him to be here, with the body, someone he couldn't piss off..

He saw no signs of a struggle. Whoever had done this must have taken her by surprise. Turning the head, he studied the blood that matted her gray hair and pooled, now tacky, around her head. Blunt force trauma. With a tender touch, he parted her hair to study the wound and he frowned deeply. He'd hit her more than once, and there was an odd crosshatching at the edges of the wound. His eyes scanned the surroundings, wondering if the assailant had brought his own weapon or if he'd grabbed something that was convenient, not intending to run into anyone at home. He continued to examine the body, then stood, walking around the kitchen to the far counter, then to the sink. Reaching into the sink with a gloved hand, he pulled out a meat tenderizing mallet, blood and hair caught in its teeth...the crosshatching... He motioned to a nearby CSU tech. The tech noted what he was holding and grabbed a large evidence bag from a nearby case. He held it open so Goren could lower the mallet into it. The detective continued to wander around the kitchen, noting the spilled orange juice on the floor by the body and the sippy cup on the ground beside it.

Eames came into the kitchen, holding her notebook in her left hand. She stepped up to his side and spoke softly. "You are not going to believe this. You need to come into the living room for a moment."

He hesitated. "I really should finish here."

"Did you find something?"

"Whoever did this was nice enough to set the murder weapon in the sink for us after he beat her with it."

"What did he use?"

"A meat mallet, something close at hand in the kitchen. He did not expect anyone to be home."

She said, "Usually Cora took Teddy for a walk after breakfast, but he had a cold, so his mother said just to let him play in the yard and not to go for a walk." She looked at the body of the woman on the floor. "There's something to be said for routine."

His eyes returned to the victim and he said, "This happened this morning. Did anyone talk to the neighbors?"

"I think the locals are doing that. Mom got home about an hour and a half ago. Found the body and no little boy, so she, in her own words, 'panicked' and called the police and then her father. Her husband got home while she was talking to the police. She is an executive at an advertising agency in the city; he works as a broker on Wall Street. The senator and his wife came right over after he called the commissioner and requested assistance for the local cops. The commissioner called the captain and he called us."

He shifted against the counter, eyes once more perusing the area, making certain he had not missed anything. "Done?" Eames asked.

"I guess so."

"Come in here with me, then. There's someone in here you've got to meet."

Unable to find another excuse to avoid it, he followed her into the living room. The senator and his wife flanked their daughter on the couch while a man he assumed was Teddy's father paced in front of the fireplace. Goren sympathized. That was what he would be doing while the preliminaries were taken care of before he could leave to help in the search for his child. He met the father's eyes briefly, and the man must have seen his understanding. He nodded, a gesture Goren returned.

There was another person in the room who drew his attention from the distraught family, a woman seated in an armchair, removed from the family unit. She was compelling, though not in any obvious way. She wore jeans and a loose cotton top, and her sandy hair, shot through by a streak of magenta, was pulled back in a ponytail. If she wore any makeup, it was impossible to tell. Four earrings traced the curve of one ear while two adorned the lobe of the other, and a single curved stud graced her eyebrow. She shifted in the armchair with the fluidity of a cat, drawing random gazes in her direction. Once their gazes touched her, they shifted away, only to be drawn back again after a few moments. But placing a finger on what drew them to her was impossible. Her appearance was not unusual, but there was a presence about her that demanded attention, something ethereal that she seemed utterly oblivious to.

Eames walked over to her and addressed her in a tone Goren recognized and always dreaded to hear when it was directed toward him. "Miss Chambers, this is my partner, Detective Goren."

The woman rose smoothly and extended a hand toward him. "Marcy Chambers," she said by way of introduction.

Eames noticed the way her partner studied the woman as he accepted her hand, but his expression was guarded. Somewhere in the back of her head, an alarm went off, but she quickly silenced it. "Miss Chambers was contacted by Mrs. Yarborough about an hour ago and she came right over."

A puzzled look replaced the guarded look on his face and Marcy elaborated. "I moved to New York two years ago from Tulsa, where I was a consultant on missing child cases for seven years."

"A consultant? What kind of consultant?"

"I have a rare ability to read people, places, objects..."

Eames knew the exact moment that her partner understood what the woman was reluctant to say. Quietly, he said, "You're a psychic."

"I try to avoid using the term 'psychic' to describe what I do, to prevent people from shutting down under the force of preconceived notions, detective. But essentially, yes, I am. When I worked with Tulsa law enforcement, 132 of the cases I worked with them reunited the children with their parents. Our efforts were investigated by both Sixty Minutes and 20/20. I am not a fraud, and I want to help. I came right out when Mrs. Yarborough called me."

This was neither the time nor the place to question Marcy about a frantic mother's misplaced faith, so Eames simply said, "When you have a chance, we would like to speak with you in more private surroundings, Miss Chambers."

"I would be happy to, Detective Eames. But right now, I simply want to help these parents find their son."

"Of course you do," Goren said in a tone that carried no judgment. He handed her his card. "Call us if you need us. We are going to help in the search."

With a nod, Marcy placed his card in the back pocket of her jeans, and he left the house with his partner. He did not have to look at Eames to sense her anger. Once they were clear of the house, she snapped, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

He raised his eyebrows. "It's not our call, Eames. The family brought her in. The least we can do is cooperate."

"But a psychic? Give me a break."

He shrugged. "If it makes them feel better..."

"False hope, Bobby. It gives them false hope."

"Look at it this way, Eames. Whatever happens, as long as we cooperate with their efforts and do everything we can to find this boy, it can't come back to bite us in the ass. If we let her work with them, it keeps them busy while we do our job." He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, stopping in mid-stride to turn to face her. "What harm can she do?"

She studied his face, and she got the impression he'd call in fairies and leprechauns if he thought they would help. "All right," she conceded, but only because he asked her to. She raised an index finger. "But the instant she says he's huddled in a cave, I'm done."

"That's fair."

She shook her head and began walking again. "A psychic..." she muttered.

The local police were still canvassing the neighbors, trying to find someone who had been home and might have seen something, but so far they'd had no success. So the detectives left them to their jobs and walked down the street to a trailer that had been moved into the neighborhood to serve as a base for the searchers. Goren held the door open for Eames, then followed her up the three steps into the trailer to see what they could do to help.
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Goren and Eames spent the rest of the night helping the searchers, to no avail. They dragged themselves back to the squad room to inform the captain of their lack of progress, clean up and then head back to Long Island. Ross studied them as they came into his office. Eames was obviously exhausted, but the captain couldn't see much difference in Goren. That only fueled the captain's suspicion that the man regularly got little sleep. "Go home, you two. Get a few hours of sleep before you head back out there."

Goren shook his head. "There's a missing boy out there. He's been gone almost twenty-four hours and there is no indication that whoever killed his caretaker abducted him. If that's the case, he wandered off and he's cold, scared and alone. If Eames wants to take time, that's fine. I'm heading back out there as soon as I shower and change."

"You, detective, are the one who needs the rest the most."

Goren waved him off and Ross knew there would be no forcing him. As long as there was any energy in his body, he was going to put it toward finding Teddy Yarborough. Ross had no doubt he would drive himself to the point of collapse. His eyes shifted toward Eames and he saw the same worry in her tired eyes. "Just...be careful."

It was the best he could come up with, but he gave Eames a meaningful glance that he knew she understood. She nodded and turned away from the desk, knowing Goren would be right behind her. They had pointedly avoided the topic of the psychic Vicky Yarborough had called. Eames still wondered what he thought, though. She had made her feelings clear, but as time passed, she realized that he had not let his own feelings on the matter be known.

She left the squad room for the locker room, where she showered and changed into clean clothes, bagging her dirty outfit and putting it in her car before she returned to the squad room. She was surprised to see Goren at his desk, in a clean suit, his hair damp. He was engrossed in something on his computer. "What are you up to?" she asked as she approached.

He shut the computer and stood. "Nothing. Are you ready to go?"

Frowning, she looked from him to the laptop and back, nodding her head at the computer. "Does that have to do with the case?"

"Indirectly. It can wait. Let's get going."

He seemed to have gotten his second wind and he wanted to take advantage of it. Finally, she nodded, turning to walk away.

He turned back to the laptop, opened it and powered it off. Then he joined her. The last thing he wanted was another argument with her. There had been enough tension between them lately and he did not want to contribute to more. She did not trust Marcy Chambers, but he did not have the same skeptical approach. He was wary, but willing to give the woman the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. He had not gotten far in his research, though, and he'd made a note to call the Tulsa police department and the Oklahoma State Police about her. He was curious now, and he wondered why she'd left Oklahoma.

The ride to Long Island was quiet. Eames was tired and Goren was thinking. Before they got to the neighborhood where the Yarboroughs lived, she glanced at him. "So what were you doing that indirectly has to do with the case?"

He paused. "Research," he answered.

"That psychic," she said, disapproval in her tone.

He nodded. "So far, what she's said has been true."

"That doesn't mean she has any business being part of this case."

"It seems we have no say in that."

"And if we did?" When he didn't answer, she glanced at him again. He had returned his attention out the window. "Are you going to sit there and tell me that you believe all that psychic mumbo-jumbo?"

"No, I'm not. But this woman has a solid track record with reputable law enforcement agencies, and right now we have nothing to go on. I don't see the harm if the family wants her help. We have nothing to do with it."

"And I don't want anything to do with it, do you understand that?"

"Yes, Eames. I get it."

She sighed softly. This woman had roused his interest and his curiosity, and that, she knew from experience, could spell disaster. She parked the car down the street from the Yarborough's home. "Just be careful, will you?" she said as she turned to look at him after turning off the vehicle. "I don't want another Nelda."

She got out of the car, leaving him. He sat there for a few moments, trying to understand how she meant that. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he got out of the SUV and joined her on the sidewalk, where she was waiting with her arms crossed, obviously annoyed. He decided his best bet was simply to remain quiet as they walked down the street to the command post.

Marcy was sitting on the steps of the trailer, waiting for them. She rose as they approached. "Hello, detectives."

"Hello," Eames answered, determined to be polite because Senator Harriman's daughter had called this woman, and the senator knew the chief. Since the chief already had it in for her partner, she decided it prudent not to make waves. "Have they made any progress?"

"Not yet." She hesitated before venturing, "Teddy is still alive."

Eames looked away and rolled her eyes but Goren looked at her with interest. "How do you know that?"

Marcy sighed, seeking the right way to explain what she knew. "Sometimes, I can see things in my dreams. Sometimes, I feel them when I'm in contact with a cherished item. And sometimes, if I look at a picture of someone, I can see their fate. I've never been wrong. His mother gave me his favorite stuffed animal, a raccoon, and when I was holding it, I got the sense that he's terrified, lost...but alive. And when I looked at his picture on the mantle, I didn't see him dead. What I did see was a field near a stand of red maple trees. That's where he is."

When she stepped up into the command post, Goren looked at his partner. "It's not a cave," he pointed out.

She tried to hide a smile of amusement and smacked his arm. "Shut up," she growled as she moved past him into the trailer.

He sighed as he hid a smile and followed her.

Yet again, you've pulled me into ANOTHER one of your stories. Do you have these already written somewhere and your posting them chapter by chapter? You're so prolific it's almost scary.

Chapter 2: Rising Tensions

Marcy sat down at a desk at the back of the trailer as Goren and Eames followed her up the steps into the make-shift command center. Two other officers sat at another desk on the side of the open room. Eames was glad she wasn't claustrophobic. It was not very spacious.

Goren leaned over the shoulder of one of the officers and studied a map in front of the man. "What areas have been covered?" he asked.

Before the officer could reply, Marcy said, "Gordon."

The four cops looked at her. "Gordon?" Eames asked.

"Gordon is with Teddy. He'll hear the searchers if they get close enough."

"Who is Gordon?" Eames asked impatiently.

"Teddy's dog," Marcy answered, not reacting to Eames' tone.

Eames frowned and her tone took on a sharper edge. "The dog? I thought Mr. And Mrs. Yarborough said the dog ran off while the gate was open."

"That is only an assumption based on the dog's past behavior. My impression of Teddy's fears and comforts is that the dog is with him."

Eames shook her head and headed out of the trailer. Hesitating only long enough to exchange a few words with one of the officers, Goren looked at Marcy, then hurried off after his partner. He caught up to her halfway down the block.

"Eames..."

"Don't 'Eames' me, Goren. If you want to play games with the psychic, be my guest. I..."

A voice from behind them cut her off. "Is there a problem, detectives?"

Goren's tension shot through the roof as Eames turned to talk to their captain. "No, sir. There's nothing wrong. We were just discussing something Miss Chambers told us."

Ross looked at Goren then back to Eames. "I realize this is unconventional, but the senator himself called me. His daughter has the utmost confidence in Miss Chambers. I suggest the two of you find a way to work with her." He glanced at Goren. "However uncomfortable you may be with it."

Goren frowned, annoyed that the captain automatically assumed he would be the one having problems working with a psychic. Moving his hands away from his sides, he said, "We have a child to find," and he walked away from his partner and the captain.

Eames looked at Ross, then trotted after Goren. "Bobby, wait."

He pretended not to hear her and kept walking, but his pace slowed and she caught up to him. "I'll straighten it out with him."

"Forget it, Eames. I'm used to it."

"Hey..."

"I said forget it. Are you going to go with me?"

"Into the woods? Of course I am. I don't want you turning up missing, too." He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled. "Let's go."
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Goren pushed open the door to his apartment, frustrated and exhausted. They hadn't found Teddy and Eames was mad at him again. He didn't disbelieve the psychic, and he wanted to give her a real chance, but Eames wanted nothing to do with her in spite of the senator's insistence that she be involved. He was caught in the middle and he resented it. His resentment made him irritable, and she had misinterpreted his mood, getting him into more trouble with her. He gave up and told her he was heading home for a few hours of sleep before resuming the search. On top of that, Ross was getting antsy because the senator was on his back about finding the person who had killed Cora. Goren wanted to focus on finding the boy first, and he'd gotten into it with Ross over that, too. He was uptight and aggravated.

He slid off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the recliner in the living room on his way to the kitchen, untying his tie as he went. Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, he returned to the living room, laying his tie on the coffee table as he sat on the couch. Flipping on the television, he was annoyed when the news came on and the lead story was the missing boy, a further reminder of their failure to locate him. There was speculation that he had wandered off into Reeves Bay, not far from the family home in Flanders. There were crews searching the bay, but he didn't think Teddy had gone off in that direction. He was beginning to wonder if the person who had killed Cora actually had taken the boy. The tracking dogs kept losing the scent not far from the house, and they weren't picking it up again. The handlers kept making excuses for the dogs, but he knew enough about tracking to know that without recent rains, they were losing the scent because it was not there. He was also unable to find a stand of red maples anywhere in the area, which had contributed to his partner's irritation. She was not afraid to let him know exactly what she thought about that ridiculous claim and the idea that he would consider giving it any credence. He just wasn't doing anything right.

Kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt, he laid back on the couch with the beer and watched the report. Damn. Where was that little boy?
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In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

The words of the poem floated through his mind as he walked through a mist, calling the boy's name. He sensed someone at his side, certain it was his partner. Continuing deeper into the mist, he heard a dog bark. Running in the direction of the sound, he broke through the fog, into a clearing that bordered a stand of red maples. Curled into a ball on the ground was Teddy's body. They were too late. The voice that came from beside him, full of accusation, was not his partner's. It belonged to Marcy Chambers. "I told you. If you had listened to me from the beginning, Teddy would not be dead..."

He sat up suddenly, breathing hard and sweating. He felt trapped. His partner, the voice of reason, wanted to deal with this case in a pragmatic way, as she always did. On the other hand, there was Marcy, a voice of experience, steering him in a different direction toward the same end, finding the boy. He was unable to find a balance between the two and he felt way off kilter. The phone rang, drawing him from his disturbed thoughts. Hell...

He found it in his jacket pocket and answered the call. "Goren."

I am so sorry to wake you, detective. This is Marcy Chambers.

"What can I do for you, Miss Chambers?"

Do you trust me, Detective Goren?

He hesitated before answering, "I...I don't know."

I appreciate your honesty. I am going to tell you something rather outlandish, but you do want to find Teddy, don't you?

"Of course. We all want to find him."

The others will never buy this. Teddy is not on Long Island. He is near water, and the red maples I told you about. But...does the name Wanakena mean anything to you?

"Wanakena? Uh, yes...it's a small town in the Adirondacks, up near the Tri-Lakes region. It's at the south end of Cranberry Lake."

He knew the name well. Lewis' parents had a cabin on the west side of Cranberry Lake and they had taken him there with them several times, when his mother was hospitalized and couldn't report him missing when she forgot where he was. His father certainly never gave a damn and his grandparents were dead by then.

Marcy's voice jarred him from the memories, which were among the few he had that were good. The name came to me while I was sleeping with Teddy's stuffed raccoon. Do with it what you will, Detective.

He couldn't help the suspicion that welled up from inside him. Had he inadvertently mentioned Cranberry Lake in Marcy's presence? Of course not...it had been years since he'd even thought about the summer cabin or the lake. "How did he get upstate?"

When she answered him, there was caution in her voice. I am not willing to open myself up for ridicule and hostility, from anyone. I'll just leave you with that information and be done with it.

Had she heard something in his tone to make her defensive? "No...please. Tell me what else you have." She softly huffed, not answering. Was he allowing his partner's skepticism to close his mind? "I'm sorry...please...go on."

She paused for another minute, then said, It's someone he and Gordon know. A teenager or very young adult...in a blue car. I also see blood, and a silver mallet, but I don't think they apply to Teddy. That's all I have.

"How willing would you be to accompany us, if I can convince my partner to follow this lead?"

Don't be a fool, Detective Goren. Your partner will never buy it. But if you want my company, I will go with you. I am sorry I bothered you... She hesitated. But I'm not sorry I woke you.

"Why not?"

It's never regrettable to be woken from a nightmare. Good night.

He closed the phone. Something in the way he answered the phone must have given him away. How else would she have known he'd been having a nightmare? He turned his thoughts to what she'd told him. A teenager...one Teddy and the dog knew...a neighbor...

He got up, showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Sliding his holster onto his belt and clipping his badge to it, he grabbed his jacket and went downstairs to his car. He thought about calling Eames, but how was he going to explain himself, especially at three in the morning. Her first inclination would be to tell him to get a few more hours of sleep, but that was not going to happen. His best bet was to use his insomnia to contribute to the search; at least she would understand that much. Maybe if he laid the groundwork first, it would be easier to convince her to follow a new line of investigation. Starting the car, he pulled away from the curb and headed for Long Island.
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People were still out searching for Teddy when Goren returned to the small Flanders neighborhood. He climbed into the command center. "Where is the information on the neighbors?" he asked after greeting the officers staffing the trailer.

He was handed a folder and he sat in an empty chair near the desk at the far end of the trailer. Flipping slowly through the information and the interview notes, he searched for any teen neighbors, finding a half dozen. Five of the kids either did not own vehicles or their parents had cars that were the wrong color. That left one. Matthew Torello, seventeen, owner of a sky blue Toyota. "Uh, who interviewed the Torello boy?"

One of the two officers at the opposite end of the trailer turned toward him. "No one. He didn't come home from school yesterday. His mother said he's probably at a friend's."

He frowned, wishing the notes in the folder were more clear. "What did the school say?"

"About what?"

"Was the kid in school?"

"I have no idea. I don't think anyone looked into it."

That annoyed him, and he had to remind himself that no one was looking for a suspect in Teddy's disappearance. Of course, forgetting that there was a murder to be investigated was inexcusable to his mind. "Where is the Torello residence?"

"Two doors down from the Yarboroughs, same side of the street." He scratched his head, wondering what interest the hotshot city cop could have in a harmless local boy. "Matt's a good kid, detective. He plays football with my son."

"I'll keep that in mind."

As he stepped from the trailer, he was surprised to see that the sun was coming up. He wandered down the street toward the Torello residence. As he approached the well-kept house, he noticed a man sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair with a cup of coffee. He leaned on the fence and looked across the yard at the man. "Mr. Torello?"

"Yeah. What can I do for ya?"

"Detective Goren...I work with the Major Case Squad."

"You here lookin' for Teddy?"

"Yes, sir. I was wondering if I might talk to your son, Matt."

"You could, if he was home."

"Do you know where he is?"

"If I hadda guess, I'd say he's at Craig's house. They been inseparable since about the second grade." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating a direction. "Three blocks over, yellow house with some kinda climbing vine on the porch. Number 1233."

"Thank you."

As he walked away from the house, he broke into a cold sweat. The man reminded him of his own father and he had to swallow his anger. If he was a caring father, he'd know where the hell his kid was. He had no trouble finding the residence, and he was surprised to see a woman in the garden. These people got an early start on Saturday mornings in the spring. "Excuse me," he called.

The woman turned from her flowers. "Yes?"

"Your son, Craig...?"

He couldn't miss the tension in her as she studied him with suspicion. "What about him?"

"Is he home?"

"No. He left about an hour ago for work."

"So Matt Torello isn't here?"

"No, he's not. May I ask what you want with my son?"

He pulled his badge from his belt and showed it to her. "I just wanted to ask him about Matt. When was the last time you saw him?"

"A few days ago, I think."

"But not in the last forty-eight hours?"

"No. It was Monday or Tuesday."

"Thank you."

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he headed back for the street the Yarboroughs lived on. When his phone rang, he pulled it from his pocket and answered by rote. "Goren."

Good morning, Eames said. Do you want me to pick you up?

"Uh, no, thanks. I'll meet you in Flanders."

She was quiet for a moment. You're already there, aren't you?

"Uh, yes."

Couldn't sleep again?

"No."

Any leads?

"Maybe."

She paused. All right. I'll see you soon.

Returning the phone to his pocket, he kept walking, lost in thought as he tried to find a way to convince Eames that the missing teen could be related to their missing boy. It was going to be a very hard sell and they were running out of time.
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In Flanders Fields is a poem by Canadian physician Lt. Col. John McCrae, written during WWI (May 3, 1915 to be exact) in Belgium.

I scare you? LOL I have a very busy mind. I have a bunch of these already posted at FFN, and a couple more in progress not yet posted anywhere. Writing keeps me out of trouble when I'm not working It's a good thing...isn't it?

I'm enjoying the premise of this story. Having Det. Goren in the middle between his sensible partner and a psychic that may offer an additional perspective is really interesting. I can't wait to see where it leads...and I do hope that the child and his dog are found unharmed (she says hopefully).

Unlike me, you must not be married with children....yes, keeping out of trouble when not at work is a VERY good thing!

Actually, I am married, and I have five children. My youngest daughter has kidney failure and is on dialysis. I write when the kids are in school or at the park with Daddy or in bed. Sometimes, when I'm working nights or weekends, I can get some writing done at work. I manage to find time. Bobby is my stress relief If I could write all the time, I'd get a lot more done.

Chapter 3: A New Lead to Follow

Eames was furious. What the hell was he doing back out on Long Island? Her anger only increased when she surmised that the psychic probably had something to do with it. Psychic...what a load of crap. She didn't get how a man with Bobby's intelligence could put any stock in psychics, especially given his background in psychology. He knew how they worked, reading subtle clues from people and building on them with broad statements that led them to zero in on a target. "I'm sensing a female relative from the other side..." There was a fifty-fifty chance of getting that right, and everyone had dead female relatives!

She sighed. How easy was it to get a read on a frantic mother with dozens of pictures of her baby adorning her house? What she couldn't get a handle on was the woman's agenda. What could she possibly have to gain in this? Could Goren be her target? In some ways, the man was an easy mark for a pretty woman. She gave that some thought. How much did Marcy Chambers' understated beauty and charisma have to do with the snow job Goren seemed to be falling for? As much as she wanted to believe he was above that, the dark shadows of Nelda Carlson and Nicole Wallace loomed in her mind. For all his brilliance, Goren was still a man and subject to the same failings as any.

As she merged onto the Belt Parkway, her mind wandered. When Goren's mind wandered, it often led to trouble of some sort for one of them, but her thoughts didn't usually do that. Today, however, was an exception. Today, they took her nine years into the past, back to her days in vice, not long before she lost Joe. She had come across Tracie, a seventeen-year-old runaway who got caught up with the wrong group of people and ended up addicted to heroin and trolling for johns as a way to pay for her habit. All the cash that didn't go to her pimp went into her veins. Eames had struggled to get the girl away from that life, into rehab and on her way to a better life. She had almost succeeded.

Enter Paul Starr. An ex-junkie, Starr had discovered he had a "gift" for reading people and places, and predicting where they would go in life. He had played that poor girl like a finely tuned piano, preying on her every insecurity and stroking her ego--and more, Eames always suspected--until she caved. Back on the streets, Tracie had lasted three weeks. She turned up in a fleabag motel room, with three times the lethal dose of heroin in her body, the needle still in her arm. Paul Starr had taken his "psychic" abilities and vanished into thin air.

She hated that Vicky Yarborough had called in a damn psychic and that her father backed her and demanded that the woman be allowed to work on the case. She hated that Ross had ordered them to take the woman seriously. But more than anything, she hated that her partner seemed to be buying her act. She could not get Paul Starr out of her mind, and she was terrified that the same fate Tracie had met lay in store for Goren if he continued to chase after Chambers like he was.

No, that wasn't quite fair. She had no proof he was chasing after her. Could it be that Chambers was pursuing him? But why? She had offered a verifiable story that Goren had followed up on, confirming the validity of her claims. He had to be aware of the tricks psychics used—he employed some of those same tactics in the interrogation room. Prey on their weaknesses...and Chambers had hit on one of Goren's biggest weaknesses: children.

She knew that many police departments worked with psychics, but she wondered how many of them were simply exceptionally gifted investigators who were bored with conventionalism. She would always put her stock in good, solid police work, whatever anyone called it, and that was what Goren had always done: good, solid police work. It no longer mattered to her that the rest of the department thought her partner was a freak. She knew better. She knew the man, not the myth. She would take one of his hunches over a dozen "proven" psychics any day of the week. So what was he doing now? Was the time factor making him more receptive to the use of clairvoyance? She couldn't accept that he believed in ESP of any kind.

As she pulled into an open space near the command post, she saw him pacing on the sidewalk, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Something had him agitated and she immediately looked around for Chambers. As she approached, she called his name. When he didn't answer, she knew he was lost somewhere in his head and she stepped into the path of his pacing. He almost ran her over.

"Eames...sorry...when did you get here?"

"Just now, and be warned, I didn't stop for coffee."

"Why not?"

Because she didn't trust him? No. She didn't trust Chambers. It wasn't an issue of trust with him. The biggest part of it was concern for his vulnerability, and no one knew how vulnerable he really was better than she did. She was waiting for Chambers to bring up her partner's recent loss of his schizophrenic mother and the signals she was getting from the "other side" from the woman, apologizing for all the grief she had caused her son. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that a disease like that would have taken its toll on a caring son.

She did not voice her concerns, however, which would have set him even more on edge. "We're running out of time. If you have a new lead, we need to move on it."

He rubbed the back of his neck again and resumed pacing, seeming even more unsettled that she was willing to chase his lead. "Would you stop that," she demanded irritably. "Quit pacing and tell me what you found out."

"I was following up on the neighbor interviews. One of the neighborhood teens has been missing since Teddy vanished."

"And no one mentioned this because...?"

He shrugged, still oddly unsettled. "I suppose his parents might have, if they gave a damn. And everyone believes Teddy wandered off, so no one is looking for an abductor. Cora's murder seems to have slipped to the back burner while we search for the boy."

"And you thought to bring it back to the front burner."

"I think they're related."

"What made you come back out here in the middle of the night to look into this?"

"Since I couldn't sleep, I figured I would do something useful."

Her eyes narrowed. He was being evasive. "What told you to look at the neighbors again?"

He wouldn't look at her. "Something someone said."

"Your psychic friend," she accused.

He felt his patience slipping. "Tell me why I'm wrong to utilize everything at our disposal to find this boy?"

"I don't trust her."

"I gathered that. Eames, I haven't found anything but praise for her work in Oklahoma. Her statistics are impressive."

"We do the same kind of work without the use of crystal balls."

He tossed his hands up in defeat. "Whatever. I'm going to talk to Matt's mother."

She went along with him, too annoyed with him to feel bad for irritating him. Before they reached the house, someone called to them. Turning in the direction of the Yarborough's house, neither of them was pleased to see Ross strolling down the sidewalk toward them. As was his habit, the captain addressed Eames. "Any leads?"

"We're chasing one down now. A teen neighbor went missing the same time Teddy did. We think it might be related."

"How? Didn't the little boy wander off?"

Goren answered, "That's been the assumption. It might not be correct."

Ross gave it some thought. "I suppose there are enough searchers out there. Go ahead and follow it up. I'll tag along with you."

Goren made no comment as he turned and continued toward the Torello residence with Eames at his side. Whatever their differences, she would never criticize him in front of Ross. She had more respect for him than that, and she knew how Ross was with him. Any hint Eames might offer even suggesting instability would be pounced on by the captain..

Ross hung back as Eames rang the doorbell. Angie Torello answered the door, staring at the three people on her porch with suspicion. "Mrs. Torello," Eames took the lead. "I am Detective Eames. This is my partner, Detective Goren and our captain, Danny Ross. We are investigating the disappearance of Teddy Yarborough and the murder of his caretaker. We believe your son Matt was home when Mrs. Richards was attacked and Teddy disappeared, and we would like to talk to him, to see if he saw anything."

Angie stepped out onto the porch and looked up and down the street. "He's not home. I told the officers yesterday he was probably at his friend's house, but with his car gone...no. He wouldn't be at Craig's."

"Do you know where he might have gone?"

"Not for certain, no."

"He wouldn't tell you? Leave a note or something?"

"Of course not. He's 17. What 17-year-old does that?"

Goren raised an eyebrow. "When I was 17, my mother always knew where I was."

Angie studied the big man. "We prefer not to mollycoddle our son, detective."

He frowned and steered the interview in another direction. "Is there any possibility he could have gone upstate?"

"Maybe. My husband has a hunting cabin in the Adirondacks. He and Matt have been going up there hunting and fishing since Matt was five."

Eames picked up the ball. "Would he have skipped school to go fishing?"

Angie laughed and repeated, "He's 17, detective. Name a 17-year-old boy, your partner excluded, who wouldn't skip school to go fishing."

Ignoring the jibe, but giving the woman a dirty look, Eames said, "We're going to need the location of your husband's cabin, Mrs. Torello."

"Sorry, detective. I have never been there. I have no idea where it is."

Eames was losing patience, and Goren let her continue. "Mrs. Torello, you are interfering with a murder investigation. We need to know where this cabin is."

Angie glared at her. "I'll get my husband. You can discuss it with him."

She disappeared into the house and they heard her shout "Curtis! Get down here!"

Eames looked up at her partner, knowing he wasn't likely to say anything with Ross standing there. Goren met her eyes, but remained silent. An unspoken understanding passed between the two of them. They were going on a trip upstate.

The door was slammed open by an angry man in boxers and a sleeveless undershirt who stepped out onto the porch. He glared at Eames."My wife tells me you're harassing her about our boy."

He advanced toward Eames, but Goren stepped between them. Torello looked up at the towering cop, a solid eight inches taller than he was, but he didn't back down. "If my kid is being accused of something I want to know."

Goren answered him. "No accusations have been made. We want to talk to him, that's all. There is a possibility he could have seen something relevant to the case we are investigating."

Torello remained silent, glaring at Goren. There was no missing the odor of liquor that wafted off him, and Goren was again reminded of his own father. One hand closed into a fist, which he tightened to calm himself. "We need the location of your cabin, Mr. Torello. Your other option is getting arrested for obstruction of an active investigation. It's your choice."

The smaller man gave it some thought before finally answering, "Wait here."

He went back into the house, returning with a folded piece of paper, which he thrust at Goren. "Get off my property."

Goren opened the paper and scanned the directions that had been hastily written on it. He nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Torello. You have the right to be present when we question your son."

"He can handle himself fine. Just don't shoot up my cabin."

Goren tensed, but Eames closed her hand on his arm and his shoulders relaxed a little bit. "Thank you," he growled, backing away from the man.

Eames tugged gently on his arm and they followed Ross off the porch, through the yard and out the gate. Goren made certain he was between Eames and the house. As they walked down the street, Ross said, "Well done, detective."

Goren nodded, still trying to settle himself back from an unfocused fury. It didn't help his tension levels any when Marcy Chambers approached them from the Yarborough residence. But she smiled at them and that helped ease his tension a little more. "Good morning, detectives, captain." Her eyes shifted to Goren. "Were you able to use the information I gave you this morning?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. Please, let me know what comes of it."

Ross spoke up. "Don't go far, Miss Chambers."

"I'll just be in the trailer, captain."

Ross nodded, waiting for her to continue down the street. Then he and Eames both looked at Goren and the captain said, "Fill me in, detective."

Goren sighed. "Miss Chambers called me this morning with a premonition. She thinks Teddy is upstate, near a town called Wanakena near the Tri-Lakes area of the northern Adirondacks."

"That's pretty specific."

"Not really. It's a large area, encompassing Saranac Lake, Lake Placid and Tupper Lake. Wanakena is on the southwest end of Cranberry Lake, which is west of Tupper Lake. When I was a kid I went there a few times with a friend's family, so I am familiar with the area. It's a lot of area to cover, but at least we have a starting point." He raised the paper in his hand. "It's something, anyway."

"Do you think it's worth the trip to talk to this kid?"

"Yes, I do."

Ross looked at Eames, who looked annoyed. "Detective Eames, what do you think?"

"I think we can be spared from the search here. Matt Torello's disappearance is too coincidental and I think it merits investigating."

Ross mulled over the options in his mind. Slowly he nodded his head. "Go get Miss Chambers, Goren."

Eames looked surprised, and Goren hesitated for a moment before he walked off toward the trailer. Eames turned to Ross, annoyed. "What are you thinking, captain?"

"Miss Chambers is going to go with us upstate. If we need her to help narrow down a search area, it will be a lot more convenient to have her along than to wait for someone to get her up there."

Swallowing her irritation, Eames pressed, "And is there a reason you are coming along?"

"To protect your partner."

"What? Who do you think he needs protecting from, me or Miss Chambers?"

Ross smiled. "Neither. But if the chief blows a gasket on this one, I want the blame to fall on me, not on your partner. It will be easier to do that if I am fully involved in this escapade."

She studied the captain for a moment, then looked down the block toward her partner as he approached the command trailer. She shook her head and turned on her heel, walking off toward the SUV parked halfway down the block.

Ross watched her walk away, and he wondered if he had misjudged Goren. Perhaps he was not the one having a problem working with the psychic. But one thing he was not worried about was the ability of his two detectives to work together, and with the psychic, to find the missing boy, if he was indeed at the Torello's upstate cabin. He followed after Eames and got into the back seat behind the driver. Eames remained silent.

Goren opened the door to the trailer and poked his head in. "Miss Chambers?"

She looked up from a map. "Yes, detective."

"Uh, we are expanding the search and we would like your help."

"Of course." She set the map aside and exited the trailer. Once he had closed the door, she looked up at him as they walked toward the black Explorer. "Are we going to Wanakena?"

"Yes."

"Your partner is coming, too?"

"Of course. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me, but she doesn't seem to like me."

"It's not that. She just isn't one to embrace unorthodox methods of investigation. But don't worry about her. I'll handle her."

"I have no doubt of that."

He gave her a questioning look, wondering what she meant, but she did not elaborate. He pulled open the back door of the SUV for her and waited for her to climb in. Then he slid into the passenger seat, surprised to see Ross in the seat beside Marcy. He looked at Eames as she pulled away from the curb, but she was focusing on the road, her face tense and closed off. He sighed. It was going to be a very long trip.

I've already read this story over at ffnet. Once I started reading I couldn't stop so I read the whole story in one time.... it's a very good story, gets to you and keeps you reading. I think you will like it a lot too Heather.

This is so good, I'm slapping my hand too keep from clicking over to ff.net to see how it ends.

So, will Bobby get a message from the grave? Maybe not from mom that's too easy, but how
about dear old dad?

This is a great story. I can completely imagine this as an actual LOCI episode. Where can we nominate you for a job as one of the show's writers? ' Can't wait to see what happens (I'll try to resist going to fanfiction.net).

Aw...you flatter me. Thanks. I'd love nothing better than a full-time writing job...

Dad didn't have anything to do with him in life. You think he'd try to reach out from the grave?

Chapter 4: Closing In

By the time Eames stopped for gas, she was way overdue for coffee and more than just a little irritable. She'd done her best to ignore the small talk the others made and limit her interaction to spare them the brunt of her temper. As she readied the gas pump, the others got out of the car, but she paid no attention to them. Marcy and Ross crossed the parking lot toward the travel plaza's main building as she shoved the nozzle into the gas tank and squeezed the lever. She sensed her partner looming behind her but she was still surprised when his hand closed over hers; he always made it a point to avoid her when she was irritated. She closed her eyes as his voice whispered past her ear. "Go get your coffee, Eames. I'll do this."

She hesitated for a moment before relinquishing the handle to him. Stepping away, she felt a sudden loss of something intangible, which she did not understand and chose not to dwell on. As she crossed the parking lot, she glanced over her shoulder. He was watching the pump meter as the gas flowed into the tank. She had to admit, say what they would about the man's little quirks and oddities, he treated her well and he had made the effort to learn how to read her.

She headed directly for the Starbuck's, reflecting on the wisdom of a six hour car ride on a hunch. If this turned out to be nothing, Goren was not going to hear the end of it. Granted they had a little more to go on than Marcy Chambers' ESP, but she needed a little more than what they had to feel good about traipsing halfway across the state on a lead that generated from Long Island. Collecting the bag with her breakfast pastry in it and the two cups of coffee, she got a hamburger and onion rings—no wonder the guy got heartburn; Heaven forbid he eat a salad—and she returned to the car. He was just finishing up with the fuel as she handed him the food and coffee. He looked surprised, and she didn't quite blame him. Meeting her eyes for a moment as he took his lunch, he said, "Thank you, Eames."

She smiled briefly and slid back behind the wheel. Leaning into the car on the passenger side, he said, "This isn't a whim, you know. Marcy offered her impression, but the gut saying Teddy is in the mountains is mine." He set the bag on his seat and his coffee in the cup holder. "I'll be right back. I need to wash up."

She nodded as she took a bite of the cherry danish, using her coffee to wash it down, along with the surge of irritation that rose when he referred to the psychic using her first name. Ross and Marcy returned while he was gone. "Isn't Goren back yet?" the captain asked.

"He fueled the car. He'll be back in a minute."

She started the engine when he returned to the vehicle. The brief whiff of cigarette smoke she caught from him told her that he was far more unsettled than he appeared, and she wondered who was causing it, or was it the combination of the three of them? She knew Ross' presence had him almost as uptight as her irritation, but she had no idea what he thought or felt about the psychic. As soon as he was in his seat, she pulled away from the pump and merged back onto the Thruway.
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The blue Toyota was parked about ten yards from the front of the cabin. Ross and Goren approached the car with caution but it was empty. As they walked toward the cabin, where Eames and Marcy crouched by the porch, both Goren and Eames drew their weapons. Mounting the steps to the porch, the two detectives took their places on either side of the door. They needed to take extra caution since neither of them was vested.

Goren tried the door. It was unlocked. Raising his eyes toward his partner, he caught her nod and pushed the door open, following the motion into the cabin. One cursory scan told him the main room was empty and he slipped into the back room. "Clear!"

As he returned to the main room holstering his gun, Ross and Marcy came into the cabin. Goren looked at his partner. "There is a car seat in the back of the car."

"I guess he didn't want to risk getting pulled over."

Eames picked up a sippy cup from the table and looked into a coffee mug, then she went to the sink. "Half a cup of juice and a little coffee, breakfast dishes..."

Goren scanned the main room then went to the wood stove, holding his hand a few inches over its surface. "Still warm. They were here this morning." He pointed out the lack of electrical light fixtures. "It's a hunting cabin. No electricity."

He looked at Eames, who met his eyes with a look of apology, relieved to see reassurance on his face. Enough of the evidence indicated that Matt could have taken Teddy, and she felt she should have given him more of the benefit of the doubt than simply coming along because Ross agreed it was a good idea. She resented the psychic but it never occurred to her that the woman might be legitimate.

Goren crossed the room toward the door, gently squeezing her arm when he passed her, and walked out onto the porch. His eyes scanned the surrounding woods. "We need to try to find Teddy."

"Maybe we should call in the locals," Ross ventured.

"We know they're here," Goren began. "It will take hours for the locals to organize a search. We can start and if nothing turns up, then we can ask for help."

Marcy nodded. "I don't think he intends to harm Teddy."

Eames looked skeptical. "Look at the man who raised him."

Goren frowned. "The father is not always an indicator of the son," he said quietly.

Eames looked at him again, understanding. "That's true," she answered, reassuring him.

Marcy added, "I'm not fully certain Teddy is even with Matt at the moment. They may have been separated."

Goren's eyes once more scanned the woods. "We should head out in different directions. We can cover more ground." He pulled out his cell phone and looked at it, frowning. "No signal."

Eames verified with hers. "Great."

"Let's just be careful," Ross said as he stepped from the porch, followed by Marcy and the two detectives. "We'll meet back here at sundown, and if we don't find Teddy, then we'll go talk to the locals."

Goren and Eames nodded agreement and started off toward the southwest end of the cabin clearing. Eames had not missed the look Goren cast toward Marcy and she felt her gut tighten, though she couldn't explain why. She had no business telling him who he could or couldn't like, although it always struck some kind of chord in her when he showed any degree of kindness or sympathy toward a person she disliked or mistrusted. Chasing the image of Nelda Carlson from her mind, she tried to dispel her annoyance as well.

Marcy stopped suddenly and looked off toward the woods in the direction Goren and Eames had started. "Detective Goren," she said quietly, waiting until he turned to look at her. "Watch out for bears."

He arched an eyebrow. "Bears?"

"It's spring and they tend to be grouchy."

"Okay...I'll watch for bears."

He turned back toward the forest, looking at his partner, who rolled her eyes. He gave her a half smile and walked toward the west as she headed into the forest to the south.

Ross looked at Marcy as they headed toward the opposite end of the cabin's clearing and repeated Goren's question. "Bears?"

"Call it a hunch."

He looked over his shoulder, then back at Marcy. "How good are your hunches?"

"Very accurate."

Ross scanned the trees. "Will you be all right in the forest alone?"

She smiled. "I lived in Tulsa, but I was raised in Idaho. I grew up in the woods, captain. I'll be fine."

She walked away from him into the north woods. Ross smiled as he headed to the east. In spite of Eames' reluctance to trust her, he found himself liking Marcy. Whether her premonitions turned out to be true or not, it was due to her suggestion they were here at all, and it seemed that the little boy they had been looking for was indeed somewhere in these woods. Goren seemed to like the woman as well, although he remained a degree or so removed from her, probably to spare himself some grief from his partner. With a final glance toward the cabin, he pressed on into the forest.
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Goren looked at his watch. Almost five. They'd been searching for just over two hours, but they still had another two hours until sunset. His eyes scanned the brush, looking for any signs of disruption by anything smaller than an adult human. Teddy would not leave much of a trail; however, if Gordon was with him, like Marcy said, the dog would leave behind fur on the brush. It was spring and he would be shedding his winter undercoat. He remembered seeing some clumps of tan hair on the carpet of the Yarborough's living room.

Eames seemed to have come to terms with the possibility that Marcy was right about Teddy being there and not on Long Island. His partner could be so stubborn sometimes. He was not at all surprised by her reluctance to accept what Marcy claimed to be able to do, but to him, it seemed more personal than that. However, he knew of no way to bring it up to her without risking a potentially explosive...debate. He hated being on the outs with her and he had spent too much time there recently.

Concentrating intently on the dense undergrowth at the edges of the narrow path he was following, he forgot Marcy's caution and paid little attention to the forest around him.
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By now, Eames was convinced that Marcy's premonition about Teddy being there was right, much as she hated to admit it. And she allowed herself to understand that, for her partner, it wasn't about the psychic. Marcy was not an issue for him like she was for her. He had no agenda for proving Marcy right or wrong. For him, it was all about finding the boy and that was the only reason she hadn't raised more of a fuss with him. He tended to be open-minded but he was not a fool.

But there was another, deeper reason for her dislike of the psychic and that had everything to do with Goren. She recognized the same unfocused anxiety she felt every time they dealt with Nicole Wallace as well as an irritation similar to that she felt when they'd had to deal with Nelda Carlson. Goren had the right to pursue any relationship he wanted, and it was clear to her that he really liked Marcy. Once the case was over, she felt certain, he was going to explore a relationship with the psychic, and there was nothing she could do about it, other than not like it. But that wouldn't matter to him. He never sought her approval for the women he dated. She was going to have to get used to the fact that the woman was going to be around for a while. She just hoped it would not turn into a disaster for her sensitive partner.
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Marcy stopped and rubbed her temples. The headache she'd developed on the drive was beginning to fade. Sensitive to the emotions of others, she had been unable to read the three cops because of all the tension that filled the vehicle. She sensed a potent undercurrent of resentment binding the captain and his detectives. There was something more, though, something that existed solely between Goren and Eames, contributing very powerfully to the tension between them. It was strong enough to overwhelm her, resulting in the headache she now suffered. It was rare for her to be stricken by the power of emotion, but that was exactly what had happened. Whatever it was, it was magnified by Goren's intensity to the point of consuming both of them. As she searched for Teddy, sending out emotional signals like a bat's sonar, she tried to think of a way she could help them reconcile it, before it was too late. She wondered if either of them even knew it existed or if they had dealt with it and kept it under wraps for so long it had simply become a part of them. Something had happened recently to disrupt their balance with one another, but of one thing she was very certain: if they did not come to terms with whatever it was that existed between them, it was going to destroy them.
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Ross' sharp eyes darted from one side of the path to the other and he listened for the sounds of snapping branches and rustling bushes. He found himself cursing the clear blue skies. If it had rained, there would be a clearer path to follow from the cabin and they would not have had to split up. He spotted a cluster of poison ivy to the right and watched a snake disappear into the leaf litter beneath the underbrush. He shuddered. He hated snakes.

He was not worried about Goren and Eames finding their way around the forest. Eames had once told him that her parents used to take the family camping and hiking when they were kids. And Goren had come to this area of the state as a kid so the captain had no doubt he learned how to navigate in the forest. The only place Ross knew him to get lost in was his own mind.

But he was concerned about Marcy, in spite of her reassurance. They were there on his authority and that made Marcy his responsibility. Besides, he liked the woman. It was clear to him that Goren did as well, but he wasn't certain why Eames seemed so set against her. Many good solid officers like Eames found the notion of psychics difficult to swallow, and he understood her suspicions, but her resentment seemed to go deeper than that. He would have to have a talk with her. She was not out of line, but he was curious. It wasn't often he did not understand her, so there had to be a reason for how she felt. Briefly, he wondered if it had anything to do with Goren, dismissing the notion as soon as it appeared. Goren and Eames were close, but he got the impression they steered clear of each other's personal lives. There was only one reasonable explanation Ross could find for Eames' reaction to Marcy, and that was her strong tendency to protect her partner. But protect him from what?
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Goren heard something in the brush off to the right. It was too big to be a toddler, but he was curious. A fraction of a second before the bushes parted, he recalled Marcy's warning. Watch out for bears. It was hard to say who was more surprised, the man or the bear. They faced off for a moment, each uncertain. Then the bear growled and reared up onto its hind legs, swinging a powerful paw at Goren, who stepped back away from the lethal blow. As he pushed backwards into the brush on the other side of the path, the ground beneath his foot disintegrated and crumbled, disrupting his balance and sending him tumbling down a steep incline. When he hit the bottom, he felt a blinding pain shoot through his right arm and his head struck a rock. Just before everything went dark, he thought he heard a dog barking.

That's the point, it would be the last thing Bobby would expect to happen. I didn't say it had to be all touchy feely or anything.

::Wags pointer finger at IStar:: You hurt Bobby!!!! I HATE it when writers hurt Bobby, especially when they get him shot, or beat up, or have him fall off a cliff......meanie......

Where's the rest of it?

InfinityStar and fm, this is so good! Very impressive!!

I know, but sometimes it's the best plot device. It works. Okay, next chapter coming up for ya.

Chapter 5: Helping Hands

The sun was going down when Eames returned to the cabin, exhausted and empty-handed. She kept vacillating between wanting to go back to Long Island and being willing to continue chasing nebulous leads around the Adirondack woods. Relying on the psychic's emotional leads was like trying to catch the wind. Expecting her partner to be at the cabin, pacing nervously as he waited for her to return, she was surprised to find the porch empty.

When the cabin door opened, Ross and Marcy stepped out onto the porch. She looked around, and Ross shook his head. "He's not back yet."

"Any sign of Teddy?"

"Not yet," he answered. "Or Matt, either."

"Well," She motioned toward the Toyota. "We know Matt is here. We are assuming Teddy is with him or he wouldn't have a car seat in his car."

As Ross nodded his agreement and began to discuss their options with Eames, Marcy sat down and looked toward the western edge of the clearing, remaining silent. She had discussed her impressions at length with Ross over the past twenty minutes, since she had returned to the cabin a few minutes after he did. Knowing that Eames did not take her seriously, she opted to remain quiet and watch the forest for any sign of Goren's return. Ross would tell his detective anything she needed to know. Teddy, she felt, was safe, but she could not explain why. She only knew that the toddler's fear had faded substantially..

Ross felt it was prudent to move the Explorer further from the cabin, where it would not be readily visible. He was unwilling to tip off Matt that they were there and risk any harm to Teddy if the teen were to panic. Eames moved the SUV further down the drive and into the cover of the forest. When she returned, she sat on the porch near Marcy, but focused her attention toward the forest. Goren did not return.
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Goren groaned and slowly opened his eyes. A soft whimper caught his attention and he turned his head toward the sound, finding a pair of soft brown eyes watching him from a furry face. The dog licked his face. He tried to move, but something against his side weighted down his jacket. Lifting his head off the ground, he saw a small boy curled into his side, with his jacket pulled as tight around his little body as he could get it. He moved his right arm, and pain shot up into his shoulder. Groaning, he dropped his head back to the ground.

The little boy moved, freeing his jacket. When he rolled onto his back, the child crawled up onto his chest so he could look into the big man's face. "Hung'y," he said.

"Okay, Teddy...we'll get you something to eat."

The dog nuzzled Teddy's shoulder, licking his ear, and the toddler hugged him. Looking at Goren, he patted his dog.

"Go'dy."

"Gordy?"

He nodded. "Go'dy hung'y, too."

"We'll feed Gordy, too."

Teddy reached out and touched a bruised abrasion under Goren's right eye. "Owie."

Goren raised his hand to the injury. "Yeah, I guess so. Do you have any owies?"

Teddy shook his head. "No."

"Good. Do you know where Matt is?"

"No. Bad Matt," he said with a pouting frown."Want Momma."

"We'll take you home to momma, buddy."

Carefully, he eased himself to a sitting position, keeping his arm as still as he could. The trees around him began to swirl and dip. Closing his eyes, he swallowed a wave of nausea and bent his right leg up to rest his forehead on his knee. Moving his other leg brought more pain and he opened one eye to look at his knee. His jeans were torn and bloody. Gently, he ran his hand over the joint. It was hot and swollen. Great, he thought, looking up the embankment he had fallen down. He looked at the dog. "Timmy fell in the well, Lassie. Go get help."

Gordy cocked his head and wagged his tail, eliciting a soft laugh from the big man, who ran his uninjured hand over the dog's head. "I thought as much."

Beside him, Teddy shivered and tapped his arm. Goren groaned at the pain that flared in his arm at the child's touch. His eyes shifted to the toddler, who crawled into his lap. "Co'd."

Slipping his jacket off his left shoulder and arm, Goren carefully slid it down off his right arm and wrapped it around Teddy's shoulders. Teddy snuggled into it and rested against Goren with a sigh. "Tan-oo."

"You're welcome." He looked up the incline again. "All right, Eames. It's up to you. Convince Ross I'm in trouble and come find me."

With his knee injured the way it was, he wasn't going to get back to the cabin without help. On top of that, his arm and head were throbbing, and he was still battling nausea and vertigo. Watch out for bears... He wasn't going to disregard a warning from Marcy again, that was for certain.

Gordy laid down against his right hip and rested his head in Teddy's lap. The little boy stroked his dog's head and Goren smiled. Then he looked up the incline again. He couldn't see the ridge, so he couldn't tell if it sloped downward at any point. There was no way he was going to be able to make it up that steep of a slope, even with Ross to help him. The sun was almost down and it was getting dark. The nights were cool, but not unbearably so. Even without his jacket, he would be fine through the night if they didn't find him.

Raising his hand to his head, he found a large, tender lump above his right ear where he'd hit his head, and his hand came away bloody. He looked up through the trees again. "Come on, Alex," he whispered. "Don't let me down."
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It was dark, and Eames was watching the forest for any sign of her partner. Ross came out of the cabin. "Anything?"

"No. I think we should go out and find him."

"Does your partner have a propensity for getting lost?"

"Only in his head, captain."

Ross sighed, looking over his shoulder as Marcy came out of the cabin. She looked up at the sky. "It's going to rain tonight."

Eames made up her mind. She wasn't going to wait any longer. "If you're going to come with me, captain, then let's go. I am going to find my partner."

Ross watched her walk in the direction of the parked SUV, returning with a pair of Mag lights. She handed one to him and turned on the other. Pointing the powerful light toward the area in the forest where she had last seen Goren, she headed in that direction. Ross admired her determination. Glancing briefly up at the overcast sky, he motioned to Marcy and they followed Eames into the forest.
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Goren was laying on his left side, with Teddy wrapped in his jacket and curled into him, using his left arm as a pillow. His right arm was resting on the boy, and as long as Teddy didn't move, the pain in it remained at a dull throb. Gordon was curled against Teddy, and the little boy was comfortable and warm, even if his stomach was grumbling. Goren felt badly about that; he wished he had something to feed him.

He was in pain and his head was still spinning, his stomach still uncertain. His thoughts wandered, straying from Eames to Marcy and back, and he reflexively tightened his arm around Teddy. He lost track of the time after the sun set, and he stopped fighting his body once Teddy went to sleep. He began to drift toward unconsciousness...

Gordon suddenly barked, bringing Goren back to consciousness. The darkness of the night was complete, the overcast skies not allowing even the moon's light to penetrate to earth. If there was a threat out there, he would never see it. The dog jumped to his feet and bounded up the incline. Goren rested his head back on the ground. "Please," he whispered. "Please...Alex..."

He drifted out again, and he did not hear her call his name.
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"Did you hear something?" Eames asked, turning toward Ross and Marcy.

"I thought I heard a dog," Ross answered.

"I heard it, too," Marcy agreed.

Eames shined her light down the path and off to each side. She called her partner's name again. When the underbrush off to the left of the path began to rustle, she and Ross instinctively drew their weapons. They were all surprised when a big golden retriever bounded out onto the path with a bark, wagging his tail. Eames studied the dog in the flashlight's beam. He didn't seem to be threatening them. "What is Teddy's dog's name?"

"Gordon," Marcy answered.

At the sound of his name, Gordy wagged his tail and looked at her. Eames was torn...Teddy or Goren? But she knew there was no choice to be made. "Gordon? Where's Teddy?"

With a quick bark, Gordon ran to the underbrush at edge of the trail, looking back at the three people and waiting until he was certain they would follow. He disappeared into the brush and they went after him. "Whoa!" Eames yelled, stopping at the edge of the steep incline. "Watch out! The ground slopes down steeply from here. Be careful."

Cautiously, Eames made her way down the slope with Ross and Marcy following her. At the bottom of the slope, she shined the light around and caught her breath in a soft gasp. "Bobby..."

She hurried to her partner's side, surprised to see the little boy curled against him, wrapped in his jacket. Dropping to her knees beside them, she touched Goren's face. Slowly, his eyes opened and he looked at her in the reflected light of the flashlight beam. "Eames," he whispered.

Her fingers gently touched his cheek as she examined the abrasion above and below his eye. "Look at you," she softly chastised.

He offered her a small smile and whispered, "Ouch."

She returned the smile and looked up into the dark trees that grew on the incline. "You fell all that way?"

He rolled onto his back, keeping Teddy close. "Not intentionally. The, uh, the bear had other ideas, though."

"Bear?" She looked at Marcy with a dark frown until he drew her attention back by closing his hand over her arm. He nodded at the little one snuggled into him. "Um, look who found me."

"He found you?"

"When I came to, he was laying here with me, trying to get into my jacket to keep warm."

Ross squatted beside him opposite Eames. "Hello, detective."

"Captain."

Ross looked at Teddy. "Good job."

Gently, he lifted the boy and handed him to Marcy. Teddy snuggled into her arms as Goren watched with a soft smile. She returned his smile and said, "I warned you about the bear."

"Yes, you did. Thanks. It was a useful warning...if I had paid more attention."

"How badly are you injured, detective?" Ross asked.

"Bad enough that I couldn't make it back without help, especially with Teddy."

Ross didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed, but he was certainly worried. "Where are you injured?"

Eames helped him to sit up, and he once again rested his head on his right knee, swallowing his nausea. She settled her hand against the back of his neck. After a moment, he spoke, his voice quiet. "Left knee, right arm...and my head."

Shining the light on his head, Eames gently parted his bloody hair to examine his injury. "We need to get you back to the cabin, and then to a hospital."

He closed his eyes at her gentle but too brief touch. "We, um, we have to take Teddy home first. He needs to be with his parents. It won't hurt me to wait a few hours. I'm feeling better than I was."

Ross looked up at the sky as the first raindrops began to fall. Of course the rain would start now. "Great. Can you walk, Goren?"

"I haven't tried, but I think so."

Ross got to his feet. "We'll help you. Let's get you and this little guy out of the weather and back to the city."

Eames and Ross helped Goren to his feet. Gingerly, he tried putting weight on his injured knee and it held. He waved off Ross' help. "I...can make it."

"Are you sure? Don't be proud, detective. Let me help you if you need it."

"I can do it."

Ross pointed with the flashlight. "The cabin is in that direction...and up..."

He shined the light up the incline toward the path they had left behind. Goren shook his head. "Uh, there's no way I'm going to make it up that, even with help."

'Then we'll find something you can make. We'll head this way until we're able to cut back that way."

Ross took the lead. Eames stepped up to Goren's left side and drew his arm around her shoulder. He started to pull back. "Eames..."

"Shut up, Goren, and let me help you."

He opened his mouth to say something but she gave his belt a gentle yank. She meant business. He closed his fingers around her shoulder and tried not to rest his weight on her. Marcy fell in step beside him on the other side, with Teddy sleeping on her shoulder. He looked at her, nodding his head toward the little boy. "You were right."

She shook her head. "That's not what matters, detective. What matters is that we found him."

"That's only half the job. We still have a murder to solve. How many of those have you helped out on?"

"A few." She smiled. "Are you asking for my help, Detective Goren?"

"Eames is the senior partner," he answered. "It's up to her."

Marcy gently rubbed the toddler's back. "Then I will have to decline," she said softly. "I do not want to be the cause of any more problems between you and your partner."

Annoyed, Eames replied, "Whatever happens between my partner and me is our issue, Miss Chambers. If you feel inclined to talk to him about the case and it's all right with the captain, I won't stop you."

Goren grunted when his knee buckled. "Slow down...please..." he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Sorry," she replied, gently stroking the small of his back with her fingers by way of an apology. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing, without much success.

Ross noticed they were no longer right behind him and he walked back to where they had stopped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Goren groaned. "I just need a minute."

Ross shined the light on him. "You don't look so well, detective."

Annoyed, Goren glared at him and Ross nodded. "That's better."

Eames and Marcy both choked back a chuckle, but Goren missed seeing the humor in it. "Let's just keep going," he growled.

By the time they made it to the clearing near the cabin, it was raining steadily and Goren was in rough shape, leaning more heavily on Eames than he had intended but unable to make it otherwise. As they entered the clearing, Ross stopped. On the porch of the cabin, a young man stared back at them. With a swear, he dropped the fish he was carrying, jumped off the porch and ran off into the woods on the opposite side of the cabin. Ross took off after him and Eames slipped out from under Goren's arm, taking off after the captain to back him up. Marcy grabbed Goren with her free hand when he stumbled forward a few steps, wanting desperately to go after them. "Oh, no you don't," she gently warned as she helped him to the porch, where he collapsed at the top of the steps.

Marcy gave him a chance to recover, then she coaxed him to his feet and helped him into the cabin. Pausing at the door, she said, "Do you happen to have any kind of light?"

"There are a couple of flashlights in the SUV."

"I think your partner and the captain have them."

"Uh...I have a book of matches in my pocket." He turned toward her and searched the pockets of his jacket, still wrapped snugly around Teddy. He pulled out a matchbook and lit one, looking around the room in its light. "On the table there...an oil lamp."

He limped forward, feeling for the lamp and lighting it. The room was filled with a warm glow and he sat heavily in a chair. She pulled up another chair and sat near him. Wide awake, Teddy sat up and looked around. He frowned. "Bad Matt."

"We know, sweetheart," she cooed to the baby.

He looked at Goren. "Hung'y," he said.

Marcy smiled and kissed the little boy's cheek. "Can you hold him for a minute while I get him something to eat?"

"Sure. Come here, champ."

Teddy scrambled into his lap, bumping his injured arm. He gasped, then let his breath out slowly. Marcy touched his shoulder but he waved her off. "Teddy needs to eat," he muttered.

"I'll see what I can find."

He watched her rummage around in the cupboards until she found something to fix for Teddy. She returned to the table with a sandwich. "Here you are, baby."

"Tan-oo," he answered happily, taking a bite of the sandwich. His face lit up. "Pea bunner jeddy!" he announced happily.

Standing beside his chair, Marcy grinned at Goren. "A childhood staple. Can I fix you something?"

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I don't think I could keep anything down at the moment."

She gently rubbed his shoulders. "Try to relax, detective. Let me take a look at your injuries. Maybe I can make you a little more comfortable."

"It'll help when they get back," he grumbled, casting a look out the door into the darkness beyond. "It's not safe to chase a suspect in the dark on his home turf."

"She'll be fine," she assured him.

He nodded, trying to believe her but unable to chase away his worry. "Uh, there's a first aid kit in the SUV, if that helps you."

"It does. I'll be right back."

She left the cabin and Teddy offered his sandwich to Goren. "Bite?"

"No thanks, Teddy."

"Pea bunner jeddy."

"That's okay. You eat it."

"'Kay."

He watched the toddler settle happily back into his sandwich. Marcy came back after a few minutes with a well-stocked tackle box of first aid supplies. She turned up the light from the oil lamp and stepped up behind his chair. She sifted through his hair to look at the injury on the side of his head. Her touch was gentle and he closed his eyes, focusing on it. She let out a soft exclamation, and he turned to look at her. "Stay still," she said, placing her hands lightly on his shoulders. "You have a nice cut here."

She returned her attention to his head and he closed his eyes again, allowing himself to be distracted from his worry for a few moments. With a gentle touch, she cleaned and bandaged the injury. She moved to his side and gently rolled his sleeve to his elbow, noting the discoloration and swelling in the middle of his forearm. He concentrated his attention on her, on her movements and her touch. He was able to push the pain away more readily with another focus for his mind.

Taking out a splint and an ace wrap from the bottom of the box, she splinted his arm, incorporating an ice pack in with the ace wrap beside the area that caused him the most pain. She placed another ice pack on his injured knee. "Want an icepack for that eye?"

"No. It's fine."

She rummaged around some more in the cupboards while he watched her, trying to keep his mind off the pain. On top of that, he was unsettled and would remain that way until his partner returned.

She handed Teddy a sippy cup. He gave her a broad grin. "Joos!"

Goren ran his hand over the boy's head as Marcy turned to him with a damp cloth. She cleaned the blood and dirt from the side of his face and his neck with slow, gentle swipes of the cloth. He enjoyed her ministrations, focusing his full attention on her. She leaned back to look at him, wishing there was something she could do for the bruise that now covered his right eye and cheek. "You clean up nice," she teased.

He managed a half smile. "I've heard that before."

She lightly touched his chin, pleased that he seemed to welcome the contact. "Try not to worry."

"I don't...I mean, if..." He had no idea how to explain the source of his unrest.

"She's important to you," she said softly. "So you worry when she's not where you feel you can protect her."

He nodded, glad to find someone, besides Eames, who seemed to understand him. "I always worry about her. I...would be lost without her."

Marcy accepted his explanation. She'd sensed the attachment between Goren and his partner, one born of a deep, platonic affection and she understood his concern. She also knew there was something she could do to help relieve his tension. She stepped up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, pressing her thumbs into the muscles of his neck. He tipped his head forward with a soft groan and she gradually worked her way across his shoulders. The pain in his head retreated and his arm and knee were reduced to a dull throb.

Physically, she was relieving his tension and some of his pain, but she could do nothing to chase away his worry. He looked out the open door into the night, waiting for Eames to return, but there was no sign of her.

Darn that Marcy!!! Next time you write a story where Bobby needs to be washed and massaged, let me be the leading lady. Fictional women get all the fun....(runs off to sulk)

I know--don't they??

Yo, twin-friend! Aren't you writing your own story? Don't tell me you don't secretly live vicariously through Jamie.....cuz I know there are times I picture myself as Amy...::thud:: Anyway, just write a scene where Jamie has to wash and massage Bobby....and...uh....oh, snap! ::swoon, thud::

Gee...I think Marcy is gettin' awfully fresh (guess I can't blame her, though)! I'm kind of hoping that Eames returns and tells Marcy to get her little psychic mitts off of her partner.

I'm so happy that Teddy and his pup are OK! I remember watching an interview with Tom Hanks after "Turner and Hooch" came out and he said that he learned a great lesson after that movie didn't do very well at the box office...never kill off the dog.

Are you kidding?? I've written several of those, they're just a little to graphic for this site. Do the words "tantric massage" mean anything to you???

Maybe you should go ask Spook if those stories would be okay for the other site? I certainly wouldn't mind reading them......

I'm getting a bit off topic here, but after reading this I remember why I like (and lust after) Sting......the man practices tantric sex!!! OMG, did I say that out loud?? ::blushing::
Where's lrt? She's usually my partner in crime when talking about these kind of things!! lol

Forget the ice bucket, I think we need to fill the NoRomo pool with ice.....

Don't worry if I ever get the urge to share them, I know of a site that would most likely post them. They have nothing but fan fiction dedicated to the characters that Vincent has played. Except the tantric massage ones, they're mine!!!

But since you are a GREAT beta and my twin I might be talked into sharing a couple with you..

Chapter 6: Home Again

Ross ran after the fleeing young man, his light trained on the retreating figure. He heard someone behind him, assuming it was Eames; Goren wasn't in any shape for a pursuit. When the kid cut to the west, he heard Eames do the same and he moved around to cut off his escape to the north.

Angling toward the suspect, Eames did her best to keep her light aimed in such a way that she could see her quarry as well as where she was going. She heard Ross off to her right, and then the kid cut again to his right, once more closer to Ross.

Ross could have sworn that the kid stooped to grab something as he ran, so he was even more on his guard, hoping that Eames saw the same thing. It was a motion he caught out of the corner of his eye that made the captain duck at the last minute. He felt something swoosh over his head. Eames had come up behind him, also ducking a roundhouse swing of the branch the young man was using like a club. As he came back with his swing, Ross ran into him, hitting him hard and bringing him down. Eames was right there to help him get the man under control. Neither of them was surprised that he chose to fight, but when his arm slipped from Ross' grasp and he hit Eames, the captain saw red. It only took a moment for her to recover and pull out her cuffs. She snapped them on while Ross kept him pinned to the ground with a knee between his shoulder blades. Once the suspect was secure, Ross searched him for a weapon. All he found were the keys to the Toyota, which he handed to Eames. Then they yanked him to his feet and dragged him back to the cabin. "Nice job, detective. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, captain."

Ross recovered his dropped light and took a look at her face. "That'll be a nice shiner," he said with a smile.

"Just in time for my niece's birthday, too," she commented.

Between them, the young man said, "You are hurting my arm."

"I think that is the least of your worries right now, son," Ross snapped.

"I didn't do anything!" he protested.

"So why did you run?" Eames asked.

"I didn't know who you were?"

"And when we yelled 'Police,' did you think we were joking?"

He frowned. "You don't have to be a cop to say you're a cop."

"What's your name?" Ross demanded.

"Matthew Torello."

"Can you tell us where Teddy Yarborough is, Matt?"

"Uh, no. How should I know where he is?"

Eames' voice was hard. "You brought him up here and then lost him?"

"Y-You can't prove that."

Eames looked at Ross, who nodded. "Your car is sitting at the cabin with a car seat in the back," she said. "And my partner found Teddy and his dog wandering around in the woods. It just seems more than coincidental that we found both of you up here."

Matt seemed to rethink his position. "The little monster wandered off on me. I left the other morning to come up here to go fishing and I saw him wandering around outside. There was no answer at his house, so I brought him up here with me."

Eames glared at him in the light cast by her flashlight. "Didn't it occur to you that his parents might miss him?"

Matt shrugged. "What could I do? There's no signal up here. Then he ran off on me...:" He shrugged.

Eames and Ross looked at each other. Neither believed the kid was that stupid. Eames smiled. "We'll let you talk to my partner. You can tell him just how it is."

Ross nodded his agreement. "But we'll spare you that pleasure for a little while, since he was injured in the search for Teddy. I would be worried, if I were you. Once he sees her eye, he won't be too happy, and Detective Goren is a big man. Hopefully, he will calm down before he recovers enough to talk to you. In the meantime, you can be our guest."

"What? In jail? You can't do that!"

"Yes, we can," Eames replied.

"And we will," Ross assured him, tightening his grip on Matt's arm in anticipation of another struggle, which came on the heels of his statement, delaying their return to the cabin.

Once they finally made it back to the cabin, Ross told Eames, "There's no reason Teddy has to see him. I'll take him to the car and wait for you. Tell your partner that you and I will take Matt in and book him while he and Marcy take Teddy home. Then he needs to go to the hospital."

She nodded. She wasn't happy at the prospect of being separated from her partner, but she understood why it was necessary. She crossed the clearing toward the cabin.
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After finishing his sandwich, Teddy turned in Goren's lap and snuggled into him, yawning. Marcy draped a blanket over the little boy and tucked it around him. Then she smoothed her hand over Goren's hair. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I suppose so."

"You are too concerned for your partner to worry about yourself."

She had not offered that as a question, but an observation. She was extremely intuitive, and he was impressed. "Something like that," he admitted.

She looked into his dark eyes and she felt drawn to him. He held her gaze, equally overwhelmed. When they heard footsteps on the porch, he forced his eyes away and Marcy gently lifted Teddy from his lap. He groaned softly when her hand brushed against him, and she looked at him again, for just a moment.

Eames came into the cabin as Marcy moved away from him, cradling Teddy in her arms. Eames stepped up to Marcy's side and ran a tender hand over Teddy's hair. "How is he?"

"Good. He had a 'pea bunner and jeddy' sandwich and went to sleep."

Eames smiled at the toddler, then stepped to her partner, who was watching her. She squatted beside his chair. His eyes widened with concern when he got a good look at her face. He raised his fingers to touch her bruised eye. "What happened?"

"I'm fine." She saw the anger ignite in his eyes and she gripped his hand. "Relax," she insisted. "Ross and I are taking Matt in to book him. You and Marcy take Teddy home and then get your ass to a hospital. Call me and I'll meet you there."

"Eames..."

She frowned. "Don't make me take you, Goren. You know you have to be seen."

He finally nodded, squeezing her hand before she stood. She touched his cheek and stepped away from him, moving over to where Marcy stood near the door with Teddy. She placed the Toyota's keys in Marcy's hand. "Take care of him for me," she said, nodding her head in Goren's direction.

Marcy nodded. "I will."

Eames left the cabin, and Marcy turned toward Goren. "Let's get going so we can get this little guy home and you to a hospital."

He realized he would not win an argument against either of them, and certainly not against both, so he decided not to waste what little energy he had left debating it. Besides, the sooner they got back to the city, the sooner he could talk to Eames, to find out how she'd gotten the bruise below her eye. He got to his feet and stumbled a little. Marcy grabbed his arm. He waited until everything stabilized, then he nodded at her. "I'm all right."

"Sure you are, tough guy."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she couldn't help but smile. He didn't smile, but his eyes showed his amusement. "You've been spending too much time with my partner," he accused.

She readjusted the little boy on her shoulder and blew out the lamp. Reaching toward Goren, she touched his arm. "Come on, detective. The sooner we get going, the sooner you'll see a doctor."

He didn't debate his need to see a doctor, but there was no need to rush. The symptoms of his concussion would resolve with rest, and neither his arm nor his knee were critical injuries. He pulled the door shut behind him after leaving the cabin and followed her across the yard to the Toyota. Teddy lifted his head and looked around. "Momma?"

Marcy patted his back as she opened the back door of the car. "Yes, honey, we're going home to momma."

While she buckled Teddy into the carseat, Goren slid into the passenger seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Marcy smiled at the little boy and kissed his nose. He smiled back at her. When she got out of the back seat, she motioned to Gordon, who jumped in and sat on the seat beside Teddy. She slid behind the wheel and looked at Goren. "Detective?"

He turned his head toward her and forced his eyes open. "Call me Bobby," he said.

She smiled. "Bobby...tell me if you need me to stop for any reason, all right?"

"Anything I need can wait until we stop for gas."

"Humor me, will you?"

His mouth formed a smile. "Haven't I been doing that?" he teased.

She started the car. "According to your partner, you have."

He scratched his temple and shrugged. "She has reasons for her concerns."

She wanted to discuss his partner with him, to see if there was anything she could do to help them stabilize their relationship, but concern for his head injury made her decide this was not the time. So she drove in silence, listening to Teddy talk to his dog as she headed away from the cabin.
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She kept an eye on Goren, glancing at him whenever they passed another vehicle and she could see him in the lights of the approaching car. She was worried about him. Concerned and uncertain, she extended her arm toward him, lightly touching the back of his hand. Without thinking, he turned his hand over, then he opened his eyes and looked at her, able to make out her shape in the dark. He did not withdraw his hand and she gave him a gentle squeeze. He smiled and relaxed a little more. He was comfortable with Marcy, and he enjoyed her company. He gripped her hand a little more firmly and closed his eyes again.

When he fell asleep, she left him alone until she stopped for gas. She withdrew her hand from his and slid out of the car. When she was done refueling, she climbed back into the car and gently jostled his shoulder. "Bobby?"

"Hm?"

"Look at me."

She saw the effort it took for him to open his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Her brow furrowed at the slight slurring of his words. "I'm concerned about your head injury."

He nodded, understanding her concern and sharing it, to an extent. "There's nothing they can do about it. I just need to rest."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

He smiled. "You're the psychic," he teased. "You tell me."

She laughed, knowing by now that his teasing was just that and he meant nothing malicious. She touched his cheek. "I think you'll be fine."

"So do I," he answered, leaning into her hand a little.

She liked his affectionate nature. He was a kind man, naturally gentle in spite of his size and his chosen career. It was difficult not to like him. Withdrawing her hand with a warm smile, she started the car, pulled away from the pump and continued toward Long Island.
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It was almost five in the morning when they pulled up in front of the Yarborough's home. Eames had called Goren to let him know she was going to call Teddy's parents from the squad room, where their number was in the file. He agreed with her, then reassured her that he was fine and he'd see her in a few hours.

Marcy parked the car near the Torello residence. She opened the back door, and Gordon jumped from the back seat. He ran down the street toward home while Marcy took the sleeping toddler from the car. Goren waited for her on the sidewalk. His body had stiffened on the ride and he tried to work out the kinks in his back by stretching. He couldn't move his arm and his knee was not happy about weight bearing.

Joining him on the sidewalk, Marcy rested a hand on his uninjured arm. "Can you make it all right?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine."

"We can call an ambulance..."

"No. I've made it this far. I can wait. Let's take this little guy to his mother."

She stayed close as they walked down the street to the Yarborough home, making no secret of the fact that she was keeping an eye on him. When they entered the Yarborough's yard, where Gordy sat waiting on the porch, the door opened and Vicky came running down the steps to take her son from Marcy's arms. "Teddy!"

She hugged the little boy close and he woke up. "Momma!" he cried out, hugging her and laughing. "Momma!"

With tears in her eyes, Vicky looked at Marcy and Goren. "I don't know how to thank you."

"You already did," Goren answered.

She looked at him more closely, noting the bruised abrasions on his face and the pain he could not keep from his eyes. "Are you all right, detective?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Yarborough."

Marcy smiled at the happy mother. "He...ran into a bear. You should see the bear."

Goren laughed. "Don't give me that much credit." He rested a hand on Teddy's head. "Good-bye, buddy."

Teddy waved to him. "Bye!" Then he patted his mother and told him, "Momma!"

"That's right. You're home with Momma now."

"Tan-oo."

"You're welcome."

"Yes, thank you," Vicky said.

He gave her a smile. "Take care of yourselves...and give that dog a steak. He took very good care of Teddy."

Vicky stroked Gordon's head and carried her little son back into the house, determined to coax her father into making a phone call or two. She wanted the details of her son's rescue and strong kudos for the officers who found him and brought him home to her. She would thank Marcy herself.
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Eames was relieved to hear from her partner. Matt Torello was in custody on kidnapping charges and Marcy was bringing Goren back to Manhattan, most likely at his insistence. He said she was taking him to St. Clare's. So she told the captain she was taking off to meet them at the hospital and she promised to call him that afternoon with an update. He was headed home for a few hours' sleep before picking up his sons for the weekend.

Eames was in the emergency room waiting area when Goren and Marcy arrived. Worry immediately settled in her gut when she saw him. Hurrying to his side, she said, "You look like hell, Bobby."

"That good, huh?"

Her mouth set in a grim line, she approached the reception desk, where she had already filled in the necessary paperwork to get him seen right away. She spoke with the volunteer at the desk then sat beside Goren, assuring him he'd been seen quickly.

Marcy sat at his other side and leaned forward. "I'm going to grab a cab and head home, Bobby."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'm exhausted. I'll call you over the weekend."

He didn't miss her quick glance toward Eames, and he knew that his partner was part of the reason she was leaving. She was not comfortable around Eames, and he didn't exactly blame her. He nodded. "Instead of calling a cab, take my car. You can bring it back to me this weekend. I'm not going anywhere."

When she hesitated, Eames said, "Feel free to accept his offer, Miss Chambers. I'll make sure he gets home."

She finally nodded, accepting the keys she had given to him when they arrived. "Thank you."

He smiled wearily, squeezing her arm lightly in response. She stood and looked at Eames. "Good-bye, detective."

Eames nodded at her. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him."

"That was no problem."

Her fingers brushed his shoulder and she left the hospital. Eames looked at him, but she said nothing. His relationship with Marcy, she had already decided, was his business, and not hers. But she still did not know how she felt about it. Her relationship with Goren was exactly what it needed to be. A little rockier, perhaps, than she was comfortable with at the moment, but they would work it out. She knew that he, too, was struggling to smooth things out between them. The unrest between them made him even more on edge than she was.

Five minutes later, a nurse came out to usher him back to the emergency room proper. Eames waited with him while a doctor examined him and sent him for x-rays. She half-expected him to try convincing her to go home, and she readied herself with a rebuke for any argument she thought he might come up with, but he surprised her. He seemed to want her there and didn't try sending her away.
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Goren dozed lightly, reassured by Eames' apparent willingness to stay with him. He felt that if he tried to send her home, he would only cause more problems with her, and it was with great reluctance that he admitted to himself that he actually did want her there. He was in quite a bit of pain, and her presence made it somehow easier to handle. He was too tired to analyze that; he'd think about it later. What mattered most right now was the simple fact that she was there.

The return of the nurse roused him from his light sleep and he immediately sought out Eames. She met his eyes, touching his hand to reassure him. He relaxed. The nurse injected something into his IV line, then looked at Eames. "You are going to take him home, aren't you?"

"Yes," Eames answered.

She wrote on the clipboard in her hand and said to Goren, "You have a moderate concussion which should resolve on its own, but if your symptoms worsen, come back in. We placed a brace on your knee and a splint on your arm. Apply ice as tolerated to each of them. You need to follow up with an orthopedic surgeon in three days to get a cast on that arm and check your knee for any damage we may have missed because of the swelling. Rest as much as you can; you'll heal faster. Dr. Martin wrote two prescriptions--one for pain and an anti-inflammatory to help with the swelling. If you have any more problems, you can call or come back in to be re-evaluated. Any questions?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then sign right here."

He signed his name, then leaned back on the bed. The nurse smiled and handed the copies of his paperwork and his prescriptions to Eames. "You can take him home. He should sleep well once he's settled."

"Thank you."

As the nurse left, Eames asked, "Do you need help getting dressed?"

"No, Eames. I can dress myself."

"Have it your way."

She sat down to watch as he pulled on his jeans. Already torn at the knee, there was no problem with the brace. He slipped his sweatshirt on over his head, deciding against even trying to put his right arm into the sleeve. Sliding off the bed, he held onto it and slipped his shoes on. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

She picked up his jacket and grabbed his arm to steady him when he faltered. He rubbed his temple. "I...uh..."

"Yeah, I know. IV medication works quickly. Let's get you home."
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When they got to his building, she guided him to his apartment, opening the door with her key since Marcy had his. She bit back a comment about that. In spite of his protests, she steered him toward the bedroom. "Get undressed. I'll get you a glass of water."

It was a little bit of a struggle, but he managed to undress and pull on a pair of sweatpants. He didn't bother with a shirt. By the time she came back into the room, he was laying on the bed. She set the glass on the nightstand beside the bed. "Do you need me to stay?"

He shook his head, regretting the movement. "I'm just going to sleep."

"I'll get your prescriptions filled later this afternoon and bring them by with dinner. Will you be okay until then?"

"I'll be fine, Eames."

She turned away but he grabbed her hand. She looked at him, surprised. "Thank you," he said softly.

She felt her irritation with him slip away and she gently ran a hand through his hair. "Sleep well, Bobby."

He gave her a sleepy smile and released her hand. She pulled the blanket up to cover him and by the time she got to the door, he was out.

He's home, yay.....Teddy and Gordy are home, too! YAY!!! Now, get Marcy out of there and let them go back to just being "Goren and Eames", okay?

Nice job again!

MORE PLEASE


It's ashame Bobby didn't need help getting dressed, I already had my hand
up to volunteer.

another great chapter, IStar! To quote Teddy....."Ta-noo".

Chapter 7: An Ominous Premonition

Goren was dozing on the couch Sunday when his doorbell rang. He woke easily and got to his feet, limping to the door. Pulling it open, he smiled. "Marcy...come in."

She held out his keys as she came into the apartment. "Thank you, Bobby. Like I told you on the phone, I'm sorry I didn't bring it back yesterday, but I spent the entire day at the Yarborough's home.""

He took the keys and crossed the room to set them down by the phone. "It's fine. I slept most of the day anyway. How's Teddy?"

"He's doing great. How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "I'm all right."

"Are you still in a lot of pain?"

"It's calmed down quite a bit. Uh, can I get you something?"

She held up a bag. "I brought lunch, if you're hungry."

He motioned toward the couch. Sitting down, she watched him carefully sit and prop his injured leg on the coffee table. She touched the hand of his splinted arm. "How is your arm?" she asked.

"Better. I have an appointment tomorrow to have a cast put on it."

She unpacked the bag and set two styrofoam containers on the table. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you. Eames is going to take me."

She nodded, then she turned her head to look at him. "Do you always call her by her last name?"

"Uh, yes. I always have."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "She's my partner."

"Is it easier to think of her as 'Eames' instead of 'Alex'? Or is it just more impersonal?"

"Impersonal? No..."

"She calls you 'Bobby'."

"We just have different styles, that's all."

She handed him one of the take-out boxes. Now that she'd opened the door, she might as well step on through. "Something happened between the two of you recently."

He was quiet as he looked at the closed container in his hands. Deliberately, he opened it. Meatloaf, potatoes and green beans...the quintessential comfort food meal. "Coffee..I'll put on some fresh coffee."

He moved to get up but she reached out and rested a hand on his arm. "I'll get it."

He watched her rise from the couch and cross the room toward the kitchen. She found the coffee and filters and set about making a fresh pot, giving him time to consider the answer to her observation. She carried two coffee cups into the living room and set them on the coffee table. "Cream, no sugar, right?"

"Right."

She handed him a plastic-wrapped knife and fork. "So...what happened?"

He sighed. "It was...my fault. We're...getting our equilibrium back."

"Are you?"

"We're trying."

Her gray eyes studied him. "Something..." She searched for the proper word for what she sensed they had been through. "...catastrophic happened. Something deeply personal."

"Yes," he agreed. "My mother...developed cancer. She died last summer."

"Were you close to her?"

"In a manner of speaking...as close as anyone ever was, I suppose. She was sick all my life, and I took care of her. She was the primary focus of my personal life, and she was all I had."

"Are you an only child?"

"I might as well be. My brother is a junkie. I don't have anything to do with him, and he never helped care for her."

She sensed a reluctance in him. He wasn't used to talking about matters that were deeply personal to him, not like this. But she gently pushed on. "So what happened between you and Alex?"

He ran his hand through his hair, restless. She waited, watching him expectantly, with a look of intense interest on her face. She wanted to help him, and she hoped he understood that. He didn't answer, turning his attention toward the food on the coffee table, but not reaching for it yet. She watched him retreat, and she reached out to him. Her hand gently rubbed his arm and she leaned closer to look at his face.

He met her eyes, and he saw an open curiosity and a deep interest; he felt a powerful sense of caring. She could read people well, but she was also open to being read. He touched her cheek. Eames did not trust her, but he saw more in this woman than his partner did. He was more open to her, perhaps, but he saw no deception in anything she had said or done. He decided that placing a small amount of trust in her was not likely to backfire on him. "I-I pushed her away, and she pushed back. I didn't handle that too well. I was a wreck, and I didn't see that she was there for me. She tried to head off the crash, but she couldn't, so she put herself to the task of picking up the pieces. Now...I'm trying to repair the damage. She seems...reluctant to, uh, to trust me again. An-and I can't blame her."

"You don't want to lose her."

"No. I don't. But I'm afraid that I'm offering too little, too late. It's no one's fault, but my own."

"I wouldn't underestimate her attachment to you, Bobby."

"Eames will do fine without me. I'm the one who flounders in her absence."

Marcy leaned back against the couch. "I see part of your problem. You don't give either of you enough credit."

"Maybe she just expects too much from me."

"Is it too much for you to accept a helping hand?"

"It's too much for me to be a burden to a friend."

"So you think that by pushing her away and letting your life fall apart you would be less of a burden to her than if you had let her in to give you support in the first place? How could it not have been difficult for her to watch you disintegrate?"

Knowing a little more about what had happened between the partners, what had happened to damage their friendship, Marcy felt in a stronger position to help them. But she backed off for now, letting him eat in peace and mull over her words, which is exactly what he did.

She had stopped pushing just short of driving him underground. She poked enough to get him worked up, but not far enough to drive him to withdraw. They finished their lunch in silence; she let him stew over her words.

Once she cleared away the remains of their meal, in spite of his protest that he would do it, she returned to the couch. "So...what do you feel up for? We can play cards...or watch TV...or we can talk..."

"Cards...that's a good idea," he said quickly, wanting to avoid an afternoon of conversation. "There's a deck in the desk, top drawer on the left."

She walked to the desk and pulled open the drawer. Settled on top of the deck was an unframed photograph of two young boys. They looked a lot alike: dark hair that was long enough to curl but short enough to not be unruly, dark eyes in smiling faces. The older boy had his arm around the shoulder of the younger; they looked like best friends. She turned it over and read the caption, written in a woman's script: Frank and Bobby, Carnarsie Pier, Brooklyn, September 1966.

She returned it to its place as she grabbed the deck of cards. A soft smile touched her face as she looked at the picture again, but it faded quickly. She studied the image of young Bobby and, with her mind's eye and the sixth sense that sometimes came unbidden, she saw something that made her heart catch in her throat. No...

She pushed the drawer closed. She had to be wrong...but she knew she wasn't. The image was clear and vibrant, and she could not shake it from her mind as she sat back on the couch, handing him the deck. "Marcy? What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Um, how about a game of gin rummy?"

"Are you sure you're all right? You look a little pale."

"Indigestion," she assured him. "That meatloaf was a little spicier than my stomach likes."

He looked unconvinced, but he accepted her answer and shuffled the cards.

As the afternoon wore on, her mood lightened, thanks in part to gentle teasing from him. She didn't bring up his partner again, shaken as she was by the image she had seen in the photograph. She found he could get her to laugh with little effort, and she was again drawn to his gentle affection. Losing track of who's turn it was, she reached toward the discard pile, her hand coming into contact with his. She looked up, surprised. He looked up at the same moment, meeting her eyes with a soft smile. Neither withdrew their hand. Instead, he closed his fingers around hers and drew her closer, gently pulling her into a kiss. She was too overwhelmed to withdraw and she raised her other hand to touch his cheek.

When they pulled back, his smile reappeared. She returned it and said, "It-It's your turn."

With a soft chuckle, he drew a card from the deck and the game continued.
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It was just after five, and there was a knock at the door. Marcy jumped up to answer it. Eames stood in the hallway, annoyed but not surprised to see her. Marcy offered a friendly smile. "Hello, Detective Eames...come in."

Eames hesitated, but stepped past her into the apartment. Goren smiled at her. "Hello, Eames."

"Hi, Bobby. I just came by to see how you're feeling."

"A little better than yesterday. How was your niece's birthday party?"

"It was nice."

"Uh...your eye?"

"I told you yesterday, there's nothing wrong with it. It's just a bruise. Stop worrying." She sighed, eyes darting from the cards spread on the couch beside him to Marcy standing near the television.. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I guess I'll be on my way home now."

Goren frowned. "You came all this way for a two minute visit?"

"I told you, I just wanted to check on you."

"You could have done that with a phone call."

"Next time I will," she snapped irritably.

She left the apartment and he leaned his head back with a frustrated sigh. Marcy hurried after Eames. "Detective Eames...wait a minute, please."

Eames could think of no way to gracefully avoid stopping to talk to the woman, so she did, but her annoyance was evident. Marcy ignored it. "Don't leave. I have to be going anyway. Stay and talk to him. He wants that from you."

Eames' eyes narrowed at her. "And how would you know what he wants?"

"Please trust me with this, detective. He needs you more than you seem to realize."

"What I realize, Miss Chambers, is that he would rather have your company."

"What makes you say that?"

Eames let out a slow, frustrated breath. "I have known him for a long time, and it's clear that he wants...to get to know you better. So go in there and get to know him."

"I am fully aware of what he thinks he wants and what he really does want. Detective, I could very easily go back in there and with the proper encouragement, and very little effort, you're right. I could get to know him very well. He's lonely and he craves...positive interaction. He'll take it from me because he likes me and there is nothing to prevent us from developing a deeper relationship. But there is something he needs more right now."

"What are you talking about?"

Marcy sighed. "Do you realize how important you are to him?"

"That's not any of your business."

"Please...hear me out. He cares deeply for you, but I wonder if you realize just how much he cares."

When Eames didn't answer, she went on, "Detective Eames, there is a tension between you that shouldn't be there. He doesn't want it there, but he doesn't know how to dispel it. That is something you have to work out together. You are very angry with him, and you have to let that go or it is going to destroy both of you. Just talk to him. Watch how he acts and reacts to you. He cares more than you seem to realize. The tension between the two of you will never dissipate, unless you deal with it. Ultimately, it will tear you apart. Please stay, at least for a little while. I'm going home."

Eames considered her words. "What's in this for you?"

"Why do you think I want something? I...care about him, that's all."

Finally, Eames sighed heavily and started back down the hall to his apartment. "There's one more thing, Detective Eames."

Eames stopped. Here it comes... "What is that?"

"Do you remember that I told you I can sometimes see a person's fate in a photograph? That was how I knew that Teddy was not going to die."

"I remember. What about it?"

"I know you think it's a bunch of stuff and nonsense, but I have never been wrong with that particular ability. I have no idea if that fate can be changed, but I have to ask you to please...watch out for him. I saw a picture of him with his brother..." She hung her head, still disturbed by what she'd seen. "He's going to die, detective, soon...and violently. I won't waste your time with more detail, since I know you don't believe me. Just...take care of him."

In spite of herself, Eames was disturbed by what Marcy told her. She tried to remind herself that she did not believe in psychics, and yet, she could not shake the dread caused by that particular prediction. She looked Marcy in the eye before turning away and continuing into the apartment. Marcy followed her.

Goren watched them come through the door, his eyes darting nervously from one woman to the other. Eames was impressed that he'd stayed where he was. Marcy stepped up to him and leaned down to kiss him. "I have to go now. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Do you have a way home?"

"Yes. I don't have too far to go. Good night, Bobby."

"Be careful, Marcy."

She gave him a warm smile, then looked at Eames. "Good-bye, Detective Eames."

"Good night, Miss Chambers."

Marcy grabbed her bag and left the apartment. Goren looked at his partner. "You're angry."

"No, Bobby. I'm annoyed, but that's not entirely your fault. I just...I don't want you to get hurt."

He paused before answering, "We always risk getting hurt when we get involved with another person. You know that. But if we never take the risk...what's the point?"

She watched him gather the cards and shuffle them together. It will tear you apart... She sat on the couch beside him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. My head's not in such a fog."

"Good." She touched his knee. "How's the knee doing?"

"Not so good. It still hurts to walk and the swelling hasn't gone down any, but my arm is all right."

She nodded. "It will get better," she assured him.

"I know it will. Eames, what did you tell Marcy?"

"If you want to know if I chased her away, no, I didn't. She wanted me to stay and keep you company."

His mouth set in a grim line. He wondered if he'd scared her when he kissed her. She was probably relived to see Eames so she could retreat gracefully and not leave him alone, before something else happened. He leaned back and sighed heavily. Eames gave him a smile. "You didn't chase her off, either, if that's what you're thinking. If you would rather spend time with her than with me..."

"I never said that..."

"You like her."

He didn't like the way she made it sound like an accusation, and he got defensive. "Yes, I do. It's not a crime."

She supposed she should have expected his reaction. He hated her disapproval, even if he would stand his ground with her when he believed in something. Apparently, he liked Marcy enough to take a stand for her, and Eames respected him for that. "You're right," she conceded. "There's no rule that says I have to like your girlfriends. But I don't have to be around them, either."

"I'm not dating her, Eames."

"Yet," she shot back with a little more venom than she intended.

When she made a move to get up, he grabbed her arm. "Please, don't leave."

She decided it was time to challenge him. She wasn't sure if she believed Marcy's psychic abilities or not, but there was no doubt of the woman's ability to read people. "Why?"

One simple word and she could see how much off-guard it caught him. The word might be simple, but she knew there was nothing simple about the answer. He became restless. "I just want you...to stay. I feel better when you're here."

"And why is that?"

He frowned. "I don't know. Does there have to be a reason?"

"With you, there is always a reason."

But he turned the tables on her by deflecting her question away from him. "Did you really come by for a two minute visit?"

She let him get away with it for the moment, unwilling to agitate him too much. Just because his knee was injured did not mean he wouldn't start pacing anyway if he was upset. He suffered enough pain. "Of course not. I came by to have dinner with you..."

He looked surprised. "You did? But you were going to leave..."

"Because Marcy was here? Yes."

"I don't understand why you hate her so much."

"I don't hate her. I just don't like her. I don't trust her motives, especially with you."

He let his breath out in an aggravated huff. "Can we not have that argument again, please?"

"Fine. I'll fix dinner. You...just sit here and stay out of the way."

She knew if she didn't tell him to stay put, he wouldn't. It was questionable if he'd stay there anyway, but he did. She fixed a simple chicken stir fry that she'd learned from him and knew he liked. Dinner was comfortable, but mostly quiet. She knew he was thinking and she left him alone to analyze whatever was in his mind.

When they finished eating, she cleaned up, threatening to knock him down if he got off the couch to help. His injuries gave her a little bit of an advantage over him and she was going to make the most of it. The only other time she stood a chance was when he was drunk and she was not, but then she usually spent so much time laughing, her advantage dissolved.

He remained where he was, annoyed, which amused her. It took her ten minutes to clean up and she returned to the living room. "There. Done. It would have taken twice as long if I had to trip over you in the kitchen."

"I hate being waited on."

"I know. You prefer to be moving. But you're not up for it right now, so deal with it."

His sigh was a half-growl, but he didn't argue any further. She smiled to herself. "Want to watch a movie?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you want to do."

She chose a DVD and slipped it into the player, then sat beside him on the couch. "What did you do all afternoon?"

"Not much. Played cards."

She didn't comment, for which he was glad. She noticed that his tension did not ease, and that concerned her. There had been a time when he wasn't so on guard around her, but that seemed so long ago. Halfway through the movie, she noticed that his physical fatigue was catching up with him, though he fought against it. Reaching toward him, she gently grasped his arm and drew him toward her, until his head was resting in her lap. He tensed briefly, but when she began to lightly rub his temple, he relaxed. She was surprised, but pleased, when he remained where he was. He rested the hand of his splinted arm against her leg and he felt himself fading in response to the gentle circles she traced through his hair and along the side of his face. It occurred to him to wonder what she was doing, but the thought vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Once he was asleep, she absently ran her fingers through his hair and thought about what Marcy had told her. Was she sincere, or had she enacted a self-fulfilling prophesy? Did saying make it so? Only time would tell and she realized, with a fleeting sense of panic, Goren's life could lay in the balance. It was not a chance she was willing to take.

Welcome back, IStar. Thanks for updates of stories. GREAT as always.

I agree with Evelyn; this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks!

Chapter 8: An Unexpected Connection

When Eames arrived at the squad room Monday morning, she was surprised to see Goren at his desk. She was even more surprised to see Marcy step out of Ross' office with the captain. "What's going on, Goren?" she asked.

Goren shrugged. "She got here about ten minutes ago, said hello and went right in to talk to Ross."

"All right. Bigger question. What are you doing here?"

"I work here."

"You are supposed to be on sick leave."

"Funny. Ross said the same thing."

"Because you are!"

"The guy who murdered Cora isn't going to hang around waiting for other people to tell me I feel better."

She leaned over the desk and hissed, "Goren..."

"Good morning, Eames," Ross said as he and Marcy approached them. "Listen up, both of you. Miss Chambers will be assisting you with this case. Play nice. Eames, can I see you in my office?"

Eames looked at Goren, then followed Ross. Marcy grabbed an empty chair from a nearby desk and pulled it up beside Goren. "I'm surprised to see you here this morning."

"We still have a murder to solve."

She looked him over. "You're still in pain."

"That's inevitable. But I have a job to do."

She was quiet for a moment before she looked around, then asked, "Did you talk to her last night?"

He appreciated the fact that she didn't use his partner's name. "A little."

"You need to talk more than a little, Bobby."

He returned his attention to the file. "I know."

Marcy knew when to push and when to back off, and it was time to back off. She rolled the chair closer and looked over his arm at the file on the desk. He readjusted his position and moved the file closer to her. Pulling out the crime scene photos, he began to go over it with her.
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Ross sat behind his desk and looked at Eames. "Correct me if I'm wrong. You are the one who doesn't particularly like Miss Chambers."

"I don't trust her, no. It has nothing to do with liking or disliking her."

"And your partner?"

"He's more inclined to be open-minded."

Ross was quiet for a moment. They'd had little opportunity to talk on the drive from Cranberry Lake with Matthew in the car, protesting his treatment and proclaiming his innocence for the entire ride. "Can he be impartial?"

"He'll be fine, captain. No one tells him how to think."

"Can you work with her?"

"Don't worry about me. If you want her to work with us, then she'll work with us. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Your partner. How are his injuries?"

"About the same. I'm taking him to get a cast on his arm this afternoon."

"So he's still in significant pain, and he's here?"

Eames almost smiled. "It's hard to keep a good man down," she replied. Then she became serious. "He won't let a case lay around. Here or at home, his mind will be on the case."

"What's going on with Matthew?"

"We'll talk to him this morning."

"Let me know. I want to observe."

She nodded and left the office. The first thing she noticed was the close proximity of her partner to Marcy, and she felt an odd churning in her gut. Was part of her problem with Marcy the jealousy she'd been struggling with, knowing for certain that Goren was interested in her? How much of it was her distrust of Marcy's professed abilities? She wasn't sure, but Marcy's premonition of Goren's fate was still not sitting right with her. She got the impression the psychic knew more than she was telling. She intended to get Marcy alone at some point during the day to see if she could offer any more detail.

She sat at her desk, not paying attention to Goren and Marcy as they reviewed the case together, and this time she knew exactly what fueled her resentment. She glared at her partner for a moment before he looked up and met her eyes. She watched the change in his expression from curious to contrite. "Uh, I was reviewing what we have, Eames. Do...do you have anything to add?"

"We have to talk to Matt."

"Yes, we do. I called his parents this morning, but they have no interest in being present. They have retained an attorney for him, though."

She snorted in disdain. "At least they did that much. Do you want to get that out of the way now?"

"We might as well." He picked up the phone. "His attorney is over at the courthouse today."

After a few minutes of conversation, he dropped the receiver into its cradle. "He'll be over at about 11. He's got a couple of hearings to get through first."

He shifted in the chair, and neither woman missed his grimace of pain. Eames asked, "Did you bring your medicine?"

"No. I'm fine, Eames."

"Sure you are. We'll stop and get it on the way to the doctor."

He huffed in annoyance, but it faded when another detective handed him a folder. He opened it, scanned the contents and said, "Uh, let's find a conference room."

"Crime scene report?"

He nodded, getting up from his chair and shuffling the file's contents together. Eames recognized his excited energy, and she could not help smiling as she and Marcy followed him to a nearby conference room.
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The crime scene photos were tacked up on the wall and the contents of the file were spread across the table. The killer had left very little trace, which told them the breaking and entering was not an impulsive act. Whoever confronted Cora in the house meant to be there. But why?

Eames watched Goren pace, recognizing the familiar energy but unable to hide her concern as his limp worsened. Attempts by both women to get him to sit met with limited success. He tried to sit, to allay their concerns, but he was unable to remain seated for long.

He was in the middle of a bout of pacing when the door opened and another detective poked his head into the room. "Torello's lawyer is here, guys."

Eames nodded at him. "Thanks, Carlos." She looked at Goren. "I'll have Matt brought in and meet you in observation two."

Goren nodded and left the room with Marcy.
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A half hour later, Goren and Eames were seated on the opposite side of the table from Matt and his lawyer. "Okay, Matt," Goren began. "Tell us what happened the morning you decided to go fishing."

Behind the two-way glass, Marcy and Ross watched as Matt told the detectives how he'd cut out of school after lunch and drove home for his fishing gear. He found Teddy and his dog wandering on the street and he took them home, but there was no answer at the Yarboroughs'. Rather than leave the toddler alone on the porch, and not wanting his parents to know he'd skipped school, he brought them with him to the cabin.

"Explain the car seat in your car," Eames challenged.

"He's two. It's the law that he's gotta be in a carseat. So I stopped and bought one in Riverhead, so I wouldn't get stopped. I got some dog food and a couple of boxes of macaroni and cheese, and some milk."

"Macaroni and cheese and milk?"

"Yeah. Little kids like mac an' cheese and they drink milk. I didn't think he'd eat fish."

Eames looked at her partner, then back at Matt. "When were you planning to return him to his parents?"

"When I went home. What did you think? I was gonna keep him? Get real."

Goren scratched the side of his head. "So how did he end up lost out in the woods?"

"The little monster was crying for his mom and calling me 'Bad Matt,' I guess because I wouldn't take him home. I left him for two minutes to go take a leak and when I came back, he and the dog were gone."

The detectives sat in silence, waiting for him to continue. His eyes darted from one to the other. "What? He ran off."

Eames gave him an incredulous look. "And you just let him go?"

"What was I supposed to do? I looked for him, but I couldn't find him. So I went fishing. I looked some more the next day, but I don't know where he got off to. He was looking for his mother."

"So you went fishing again."

"Yeah. Everything was fine until you and that other guy chased and tackled me."

Goren shook a finger at the teen. "You hit my partner. That wasn't very smart, Matt. That's assaulting a police officer."

"I-I didn't know she was a cop!"

He leaned closer over the table. "Then let me give you a little advice. When a beautiful woman chases you, you don't try to clean her clock."

Matt looked embarrassed, but then he said, "You do when you think she's gonna kill you!"

"Come on," Goren cajoled. "She identified herself as a police officer. You got scared because you thought we'd find your stash in the cabin."

Matt's eyes widened. "Did you?"

The teen was off his guard now and Goren shifted direction. "Cora Richards."

Matt frowned. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Matt's caretaker. What did you do to her?"

"You mean the old lady? I didn't do anything. I haven't seen her in weeks, since the last time I skipped school and she was outside taking Teddy for a walk. Why? What did she say I did?"

Goren looked at his partner, and she nodded at the silent observation she saw in his eyes. They rose. "We'll be back," Eames said.

"Hey," Matt called. "How did you find my stash?"

Goren shook his head. "We didn't."

The boy paled. "Then how did you know...?"

He just grinned and they left the room. When they entered the observation room, Ross said, "Yes, detective, how did you know?"

"I was seventeen once...and I could smell it in the cabin."

Ross frowned. "I didn't smell anything."

"I worked narcotics for four years."

Eames added, "And he has the nose of a bloodhound."

He looked at her and gave her half of an amused smile. She saw the bright glow of pain in his eyes in spite of his efforts to hide it. His eyes lingered on hers almost long enough for Ross to notice. Looking away at the last moment, he said, "He didn't kill Cora Richards."

Marcy had noticed the interaction between the detectives, and it reinforced her decision to help heal the rift that had developed between them recently. She waited for Goren to look at her for her opinion. "I agree. He didn't do it."

Eames bit back a bitter, sarcastic response and looked at Goren. He was watching Marcy, and she became irritated. She addressed her partner. "What makes you say that, Goren?"

Goren sighed silently at the sudden frost in her tone. "He doesn't have the feel of a killer. There was no change in his demeanor when I mentioned Cora or told him who she was. He's seventeen and he doesn't have a record. I talked to the principal at his school this morning, and he's not a real trouble maker. He's an average kid. We're looking at the wrong suspect."

Ross leveled cool eyes on his brightest detective, and his biggest headache. "Then bring me the right suspect. Until then I like him for this and we're holding him for murder and kidnapping. Now go and sit down, detective, before you fall down."

Goren glared at him, but left the room without arguing, annoyed that Ross could tell he was faltering. Marcy followed him but Ross kept Eames back. "When does he see the doctor?"

"After lunch."

"Take him home after that. And tell him to stay there. I don't want to see him at that desk in the morning...or anytime tomorrow, or the day after. Are the two of you still disagreeing over Miss Chambers?"

"No."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"There's no problem. I just don't trust her and he does. It's not a problem."

"Don't let your emotions bog you down, Eames. I talked to someone out in Tulsa who worked with her. He says she's the real deal. Or is Goren the problem?"

She tensed at the accusation. "He's not a problem," she snapped, annoyed to have to defend Goren, again, to the captain.

"All right, then. Work with her and try to get along."

Irritated, she left the room. Ross shook his head and returned to his office.

Eames hated the way her partner focused on Marcy when she talked to him. It escaped her notice that he did the same to her, perhaps even more intently. She didn't like the warmth in his eyes or the obvious affection in his smile. She remembered a time when she'd teased him about his attractions, but lately, all the amusement had gone out of such teasing. When he reached out and touched Marcy's arm, laughing that soft laugh of his, she felt her gut clench once again, and she hated feeling that way.

She sat down at her desk without looking at them, pulling a small stack of forms from her top drawer and starting in on them.

Goren studied her for a moment, then looked at Marcy, who reached out and squeezed his shoulder, leaning over to speak softly into his ear. He smiled and nodded. She got up and walked away from the desks; he watched her leave. Goren turned to say something to his partner, but she got up without a word and followed Marcy from the squadroom. He sighed heavily, but he didn't have the emotional energy to pursue her at the moment. He imagined she would lay into him when she took him to his appointment. He made up his mind to take the subway home afterwards. He was getting tired of fighting.

Eames caught up to Marcy. "Miss Chambers?"

Marcy stopped at the elevators and turned toward her. "Yes, Detective Eames?"

"May I have a private word?"

Marcy nodded and followed her into the conference room they had spent the morning in. Eames leaned against the table "I didn't sleep last night, thinking about what you told me yesterday. Miss Chambers, I know I get annoyed with him, but my partner is very important to me. If there is anything else you can tell me?"

"I thought you scorned my premonitions."

Eames bit her lip. "You said...you have never been wrong in this."

Marcy sat down and crossed her arms as if suddenly cold. "I saw my first image in a picture when I was fourteen. It was my father. I saw him...and a bus...superimposed over an image of him sleeping. I didn't know what I was seeing...until he was hit by a bus two weeks later and killed. I had not seen him sleeping." She rubbed her arms. "There have been seventeen images since then, and every one of them has come to pass. Every image I saw became reality. I have tried to warn people, twice. One was a little boy who drowned. His parents scoffed at my warning. I was there, and I tried to save him. I almost drowned myself. The other one was another police officer. He told me he couldn't let my fears keep him from doing his job. He was hit in the head with a tire iron by a suspect. He died two days later."

"Were you there every time?"

"No. Just when the little boy drowned. I wasn't there when Brad was hit, but I was at his bedside when he died."

"So you knew him personally?"

She nodded. "He was my husband."

That struck a painfully familiar chord with Eames. She bit her lip. "I lost a husband, too, in the line of duty."

Marcy looked thoughtful. "Is that why you push Bobby away like you do?"

"Push him away? What are you talking about?"

Marcy lowered her voice, aware of their surroundings. "He has a very powerful attachment to you, detective. He cares deeply, but he's afraid to confront the extent of his feelings because he questions how you feel about him. You need to clarify your feelings for him so he can come to terms with his own heart and move on, if he has to. Right now, he's very confused because he gets mixed messages from you. He seeks clarity, especially now, when his life is so unsettled."

"What do you know about it?"

"Not a lot, but enough to read his confusion and his desire for some kind of resolution. He's tired of being lonely, and he's more alone now than he's ever been before."

Marcy got up from the chair. Eames held out her hand to delay her departure for a moment longer. "Tell me what you saw in his picture."

"I saw blood, and a weapon made of metal. A gun or a knife, maybe, but it wasn't clear."

"His brother was in that picture as well. How do you know it wasn't Frank?"

"There's one way to be certain. Do you have a picture of him by himself?"

Eames gave it some thought. "Would his ID badge work?"

Marcy nodded. Eames left the room and walked up to her partner. "I need to borrow this for a minute, Bobby."

She pulled his ID badge off his breast pocket and walked away, leaving him baffled. Returning to the conference room, she handed the badge to Marcy, almost feeling badly for hoping her premonition was about Frank. Almost, but not quite. Marcy looked at the picture on the ID badge and then she closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. She held the badge out to Eames, who took it. Finally, Marcy looked at her, and there were real tears in her eyes. "I wasn't wrong. It's Bobby."

For a reason she could not explain, those words caused fear to grip Eames' heart in an icy vise. "Is it more clear?"

"A little. I think it's a knife...and I see handcuffs on the ground...asphalt...a parking lot, or maybe a jogging path in one of the parks."

"Soon, you said."

"Yes. Soon. Within the week, maybe." She drew her brows into a curious frown. "You don't place any stock in my ability, Detective Eames. Why do you believe this?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it reaches into a part of me I had tried to keep apart from him."

"The part that remembers how much it hurt to lose your husband?"

"That would be it."

"I remember that pain, too. But I don't let it keep me from seeing the good in another man I could love. If I lived my life with the fear of losing, I'd never love again. I refuse to live that way. I cannot—I will not—wrap my heart in a protective cocoon. If I can't love, I don't live. Will you be back this afternoon after Bobby's appointment?"

"No. The captain wants him to take it easy."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

Eames nodded. "One more thing—are you certain what you see cannot be changed?"

"No, Detective Eames. I'm not. I've never tried to change it, except for the time I tried to save that little boy. I always had a very hard time accepting this particular...ability, and every time I hoped I was wrong."

Marcy left the room and Eames sat down, fingering her partner's badge and struggling to bring her emotions under control. She stayed there until he came looking for her. "Eames?"

She drew in a deep breath and stood. Walking to him, she clipped the ID back to his jacket and smoothed her hand over his lapel. "We'd better get you to your appointment, Bobby."

Moving away, she stepped around him and left the room. He looked after her. Was he ever going to understand her? Part of him wanted to, but another part of him was excited by the mystery of her. He looked at his ID, still baffled, and followed her back into the squad room.

Don't leave us hanging like that!! Please hurry with the next chapter, I have to know what's going to happen.

Me, too! Me, too!

Is the next chapter ready yet?

Chapter 9: Never Forget Your Backup

Eames finished the dinner dishes and went into the living room. Goren was stretched out on the couch, his casted arm across his chest and his left knee raised on a pillow. The doctor had expressed concern for his knee because it had not improved and, to Goren's annoyance, he wanted to see him back in three days. He changed his pain medication and told him to stay off the knee as much as possible. He turned his head toward her and gave her a smile. "Thanks for making dinner."

She returned his smile. "I was glad to do it. I'm going to head home. Give me your word that you'll stay put tomorrow so I don't have to listen to Ross."

"Eames, we have a case..."

"And I will be working on it tomorrow with your girlfriend."

He sighed heavily and let his head drop back onto the pillow she'd given him earlier. "She's not."

She chose not to address his protest. Not now, maybe, but soon, inevitably. "Good night, Bobby."

He let her get as far as the door. "Eames..." She turned and he continued, "Call me tomorrow?"

"I'll let you know what we find out."

That wasn't what he meant, but he didn't correct her. He just nodded and let his head fall back again. She sighed and closed the door.

As she left the building, she wondered, for the hundredth time, if she should tell him about Marcy's premonition. She didn't believe in psychic predictions but she had seen the power of suggestion at work. If she told him, would the mere suggestion of what might happen bring it to fruition? If she didn't tell him, would he walk into a situation unprepared for its possible outcome? As afraid as she was to face it, she was just as afraid to place any trust in the premonition. If she told him about it, would she be validating it? So she'd said nothing, although she knew he suspected something was bothering her. He always knew.

Goren stared at the ceiling. Eames had been distracted all day. He wanted to ask her about it, but she'd been so touchy lately. She would accuse him of prying, and he would protest concern. She wouldn't believe him and things would deteriorate from there. So he'd said nothing. But he knew that she sensed he was aware of her unrest. She always knew.
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Eames arrived at the squad room ten minutes early the next morning, annoyed to find Marcy sitting at her partner's desk. The psychic looked up and offered a small, friendly smile. "Good morning, Detective Eames."

"Hello, Miss Chambers."

She hung her jacket on a hook of the nearby coat rack and dropped her bag in the bottom drawer of her desk. When she sat down, Marcy asked, "How's Bobby?"

Eames looked up at her. "You haven't called him?"

"Not this morning, no. I knew you were coming in and I didn't want to bother him this early."

"So what makes you think I've called him?"

"Call it a hunch," Marcy said with a smile.

It made her uncomfortable to be read so easily, or known so well, by a stranger she didn't particularly like. She would not let herself like Marcy, and she wasn't sure why. She seemed to be a decent woman, kind and warm...a lot like her partner in many ways. Was it solely his attraction to Marcy that made Eames dislike her? She thought she'd gotten past the psychic issue, so that had to be it, and the thought of that made her feel bad about herself. She was being petty, but she couldn't help it. When the hell had jealousy slipped in and made itself a part of her relationship with her partner? It had no place there. Or was it more than that? Was it more her protectiveness, her unwillingness to see him get hurt by another woman? He had such a sensitive heart.

She wanted to ask Marcy if she knew anything else about Bobby's fate, but something held her back. She wanted to know everything and nothing, all at the same time. Ignorance was bliss, after all. If she didn't know about it, she would have slept the past two nights. But knowledge was power, and if there was any way to save him, knowing what was coming would put her in the best situation to act in time.

Eames opened the file in front of her and the first thing she saw was her partner's handwriting. And she missed him, all of a sudden. "Excuse me for a minute, please," she said to Marcy, not really caring if she heard her or not.

But Marcy did hear, and as Eames stood, she said, "Tell him I said hello."

Eames stared at her for a moment, then walked away from the desks.
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Goren leaned over and fumbled for the phone, which Eames had moved to the coffee table so he wouldn't have to get up to answer it. "Hello," he muttered into the receiver.

Did I wake you?

"Uhm...it's okay. I had to get up anyway."

Her voice was soft and he could hear the smile in it. Sure you did. How's your knee?

"About the same." He looked at the time. "It's nine-thirty. How much better did you expect it to get in the last hour and a half?"

I worry about you, sometimes.

"Just sometimes?"

She laughed. How do you feel?

"Just tired." He ran his fingers through his hair. "How are things there?"

All right. Your girlfriend said hello.

He was tired of arguing with her about Marcy. If she wanted to make her his girlfriend in her mind, then fine. "What's wrong with her, Eames? Don't think I'm good enough for her?"

That caught her off-guard. What? No, Bobby. I-I'm just annoyed that she's here and you're not.

"I can change that."

Don't you dare. You stay put, mister. Her voice softened. Stay off your knee. I'll come by after work. Any preferences for dinner?

"Not really. Be careful, Eames."

Don't worry. Bye.

He placed the receiver in its cradle and settled back on the couch, thinking about getting a cup of coffee. He drifted off before the thought became an action.
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He was roused by a knock at the door around lunchtime. As he started to get up, the door opened and Marcy poked her head in. "Don't get up." She stepped into the apartment, smiling at him and carrying a pizza box. "Alex said they gave you a stronger pain medication and it kind of knocks you on your butt."

He smiled. "Kind of."

"She's bringing you dinner, so I thought I would bring you lunch."

He sat up to make room for her, swinging his leg over onto the coffee table. She set the pizza box beside his leg and flipped it open as she sat beside him. He reached out his hand and caressed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers, gently brushing her hair back behind her ear. She dipped her head down, chin toward her chest, and closed her eyes. He leaned closer, grazing her temple with his lips. She turned her head and let him kiss her. He slid his hand down her back and, with a small amount of pressure, drew her against him.

Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and drew back. He let her go but did not remove his hand from her back. His fingers played with her hair. He'd crossed the line, and it felt right; she felt right to him. He'd definitely been attracted to her since the first time he saw her in the Yarborouhs' living room. She was beautiful in an unconventional way, and he'd been drawn to her. But his partner's reaction to his interest had forced him to step back and try to hide it. He hadn't been very successful, apparently.

He gently nuzzled the side of her head. He knew that he needed to recover, but that didn't keep him from wanting her. He looked forward to getting to know her. Her mind intrigued him and her touch excited him. All right, Eames, he thought, amused. Girlfriend.

She shifted closer to him. "What's so funny?" she asked, noticing his smile.

"Not funny so much as...amusing. I'll tell you sometime." He leaned forward to kiss her again. When he spoke again, his voice was husky with desire. "Marcy...I want to get to know you better."

She felt comfortable, relaxed against his side. Gently, she caressed his injured knee and she could feel some of the tension caused by his pain recede. He nuzzled her ear. "That's good..." he whispered as he continued to relax.

She smiled and rubbed her other hand over his bare chest. He found the edge of her oversized sweatshirt and slid his hand along soft skin. He needed no further encouragement, and neither did she.

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Marcy grabbed a piece of pizza and then pulled his head down into her lap. She smiled when he reached over to get a slice for himself. "Alex said you like mushroom and onion."

"She knows you're here?"

She nodded as her fingers stroked his hair. "She asked me to bring you lunch. She wanted to follow up on something and she'll fill you in later."

He tipped his head back and frowned. "Follow up on what?"

Marcy's brow furrowed, wondering why he was suddenly concerned. "She didn't say."

He sat up. "Did she say where she was going?"

"No."

He grabbed the phone and dialed her number. She answered on the third ring. Bobby? Is everything okay?

"Where are you?"

Central Park. Why?

"Who's backing you up?"

What? I don't need back-up to grab a hot dog and take a walk in the park.

"What are you following up on?"

It's nothing. Matt asked to see us this morning. He said he remembered something, but he wasn't making any sense. He was pretty well stoned--imagine that. He was carrying on about Belvedere Castle, so I figured I'd come by during lunch and look around. I don't need back up for that.

"What did he say about Belvedere Castle?"

Marcy sat up slowly, and her face paled. She shook her head. "Don't let her go there."

"Eames, stay put. I'm calling Logan to meet you there. Don't go to the castle."

Goren, I am not going to...

"Please..."

She was quiet for a moment, then she sighed impatiently. Fifteen minutes. That's all I'll give him.

Logan could easily make Central Park in fifteen. "Thank you." He disconnected the call and dialed Logan's number, looking at Marcy as he dialed. "Why not?"

"I just have a bad feeling."

That was good enough for him. He slammed the phone down. "Logan doesn't answer. Let's go."

"Bobby, no.."

"Then stay here. She's not going to wait, and I'm not letting her check it out alone. Stay or come along, I'm going."

Her stomach churning, Marcy ran after him as he hurried out the door, moving a lot faster than he should on his injured knee. She couldn't persuade him to slow down, and she didn't blame him a bit for hurrying. There was no way this was going to turn out well, she feared. For any of them.
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Eames looked at her watch. She'd given Logan twenty minutes to get there. It was ridiculous to think she needed a bodyguard in the middle of the day in a public place like Central Park. Goren was being his usual overprotective self. She started back down the path that led to the castle, not sure what she was looking for but hoping she would know it when she saw it. She didn't believe the rantings of a stoned teenager, and she blamed Marcy for Goren's panic.

Marcy had to trot to keep up with Goren. "Bobby, you are really going to do some damage to that knee. Slow down."

He didn't slow down until he saw Eames ahead of them, starting to make her way along the path toward the castle. "Eames!"

Eames heard him, and she stopped and spun around. His limp was worse and as he approached, she could see the sheen of sweat that beaded across his forehead and rolled down his face. She hurried forward to meet him. "Dammit! What are you doing here, Goren? You should be home."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't be here without back up."

She glared at Marcy as she reached them and snapped, "Don't be stupid. What's going to happen here in the park in the middle of the day?"

"Eames..."

His answer was cut off by the sound of shattering glass and gunfire, coming from the direction of the castle. People were running in a panic away from the shots, while Goren and Eames took off toward them. Marcy hesitated for only a moment before she ran after them.

Gunfire and an injured Bobby do not go well together. You can't even let the man recover before you hurt him again, can you? Hmph!

Where's the rest of it? If I had the time right now, I'd go hunt around on ff.net, but I don't, so I can't, but maybe later.....

Talk about yo-yoing with the emotions. First you've got me thinking Bobby and Alex are going to get together , (which is difficult, I'm a non-shipper), then you've got a bare chested Bobby carressing soft skin (God Bless you for the visual) Now you've got Bobby and Alex in a situatuon where they can not only be shot but killed !! Sunday is suppose to be a day of rest, now I'm gonna worry until the next chapter . Speaking of which, is it ready yet? How much longer are you going to keep us waiting??

Aawhh ... IStar you left us with shooting and pause. We need more. Pretty please, next chapter

Chapter 10: Showdown

Staring across the courtyard toward the castle, the two detectives scanned the building to locate the source of the gunfire. Goren nudged his partner and pointed to the tower, where the barrel of a rifle poked out and went off four times. "He's in the tower."

He started forward, but his partner grabbed his arm. "No...you're not vested."

He looked at her. "Someone has to stop him. There are innocent people out there providing open targets for him...children..."

"We wait for backup, Goren," she began.

"And sacrifice how many lives? It's not worth it."

He shook off her arm and left the cover of the trees, heading for the castle. Eames started after him, hesitating when Marcy appeared beside her. "Is this it?"

"I don't know, detective."

"Stay here."

Eames took off after Goren. Marcy waited for a moment, then followed her.
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Eames caught up to her limping partner in the shadow of the castle wall. "Let me guess...you have no plan."

He shrugged. "We'll see how it goes."

"Are you armed?"

"Uh...no. I didn't grab my back up piece."

She reached down and pulled a pistol from her boot. "Don't lose it. It was Dad's."

He closed his hand around the pistol. "I'll take care of it."

He turned his attention back to the castle as he eased his way along the wall and under an arch into the inner courtyard of the building, with Eames right behind him. A short distance away, Marcy followed them.

They heard the distant sirens as they slipped into the interior of the castle. Eames followed a few feet behind him as he limped toward the door across the small courtyard that led into the tower. He was four feet from the door when it swung open and he found himself staring down the barrel of a handgun. "Back up," growled the stocky man behind the gun.

Marcy ducked into the shadows of a doorway, out of sight, and watched. Eames had her gun leveled at the man's head, her heart in her throat, pounding mercilessly as she watched the man pointing his gun at her partner's head. She couldn't stop Marcy's prediction from running through her mind.

The man stepped away from the door, gun still trained at Goren's head. "Drop it, girly, or I'll blow his brains out."

Goren didn't take his eyes from the man. "No, Eames. Don't."

She was torn but ultimately, she listened to her partner. Whatever the suspect did, he was not going to walk away from the encounter. Her stomach churned and she felt sick, but she did not waver. To serve and protect...


With a sneer, the suspect pulled the trigger. When the hammer fell on an empty chamber, Goren saw his only chance and he charged the man, tackling him. Eames started forward, looking for an opportunity to take out the suspect. Marcy also moved in closer. Eames glanced at her, frowning. "Stay back," she warned, annoyed that Marcy had not remained behind, like she'd told her.

But Marcy wasn't paying attention. She watched the struggle in horror, recalling images that had been flashing through her mind too quickly for her to identify. Now they were settling into clear focus, even as they played out before her, and they ended with Bobby laying on the ground, dying in his partner's arms. She could not allow that to happen. There had to be some way to change the images of fate that had been placed in her head.

Goren out-sized and outweighed the man he was struggling with, but the man was compact and powerful. He slammed Goren into a wall, momentarily stunning the bigger man. It gave him the time he needed to thrust a hand into his jacket before Goren hit him again.

Both women saw the glint of steel in the suspect's hand and it arced through the air toward Goren. "Watch out, Bobby!" Eames yelled.

Goren moved to one side and, instead of burying itself deep in his back, the knife sliced open his side, a non-lethal wound. Dodging another thrust, he watched as the suspect scooped up the gun that had fallen from Goren's hand. Goren did not hesitate to rush the man as he turned the gun to bear on Eames. As Goren's body hit his, he pulled the trigger.

The man brought the butt of the gun down as they struggled and managed to deliver a glancing blow, stunning Goren enough for him to get away from him. He ran out of the castle into the park. Recovering quickly and ignoring the screaming protest of pain in his knee, Goren charged after him. Eames had been hit by the gunman's bullet, fired from her father's gun, and Marcy dropped to her side. "Alex?"

Eames struggled to her feet, ignoring the pain that screamed from her side, and she grabbed Marcy by both arms. "Stay here," she demanded before turning, hand pressed into her side, and running after her partner.

Goren had disarmed the man of Eames' gun and the knife, and he had the struggling suspect on the ground. Eames approached, pulling out her cuffs and holding them out to her partner. Goren noticed the blood that ran over her hand and he looked into her face with alarm. She shook her head, dismissing his concern.

Taking advantage of Goren's momentary distraction, the gunman used his powerful body to knock him off balance. As the big cop fell to the side, the gunman swung a kick at Eames, sweeping her leg out from under her and knocking her to the ground as well. A quick scramble and he once more had possession of both gun and knife. Rolling to his side, he fired two shots before the gun was again knocked from his hand. When he turned to see who had done it, no one was there. But he couldn't dismiss the developing bruise on his wrist and he swore, hefting his knife and scrambling the few feet toward the fallen cops.

With a sneer, he lunged toward the closest cop with a lethal thrust of his blade. If he was going to death row, he was going to make it worth the trip.
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Eames released her hold on her injury to catch her fall, and she didn't miss the gush of warm blood that flowed from her side as she hit the ground. A wave of dizziness and nausea engulfed her and she had to take a moment to recover.

The sound of hurried footsteps filled her ears as she slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. Guns drawn, the uniformed officers responding to the 'shots fired' call surrounded them. Indicating the shield on her belt, Eames pointed to the gunman, confused by the sight of his unmoving body and the rock beside his head. "He's your gunman," she said.

Then she saw the knife beside his hand, covered with blood and her mind registered the voice of a nearby officer, calling urgently for medical help; there were four people down. Four?

Her attention shifted to her fallen partner and she made her way to his side. Gently, she turned his face toward hers, alarmed by the trickle of blood leaking from a laceration in his temple. On closer examination, she realized it had been made by the trail of a bullet. She was reassured by the steady rise and fall of his chest, but her stomach flipped and she became nauseous at the thought of how close the bullet had come to taking his life.

She looked around again, remembering the officer's report: Four down. That was when she saw Marcy, laying a few feet away from them with two officers working on her as they waited for the paramedics. She left Goren's side and, bracing her hand against her injury again, went to Marcy.

Marcy's shirt was bloody and one of the men held his hands firmly against her abdomen, Her breathing was shallow and she was pale. She knelt beside Marcy's head, brushing the hair back from her face, surprised when her eyes fluttered and opened. She smiled at Eames. "Forgive me...for not listening. This...this was it, Alex. He...went after Bobby...with his knife...but I...kind of got in...in the way."

"Did you clobber him with that rock?"

Marcy nodded. "I couldn't let him...get away."

She grimaced and tried to move. The officer pressing his hands against her wound gently hushed her and begged her to stay still. Eames didn't like the near panic in his tone. "Marcy..."

Marcy shook her head, closing her hand around Eames' arm. "I have...your answer, Alex. My...my premonitions...can be changed...I-I changed...this one..."

Eames found herself gently ushered away from Marcy's side as the paramedics arrived. Two of them began to work on Marcy while another guided her away. She didn't take her eyes from Marcy, watching as they started an IV and gently lifted her onto a stretcher. They ran down the path toward the waiting rigs.

Eames shifted her attention toward her unconscious partner. A paramedic was working on him as well, but not with the frantic motions of the other two. She watched him set up the IV in Goren's arm before her attention was drawn from him by another paramedic at her side, gently easing her onto the ground. "Let me look at your side," he encouraged.

She moved her hand away, felt another warm gush of blood and the paramedic's hands gently eased her back to the ground as everything around her went black.

MORE! MORE! MORE!

Another great chapter, again you've left me on the edge of my seat. I can't wait to see what happens next.

I'm on the edge of my seat next to her.

AAAUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I can't believe Marcy did that, but I'm SOOOO glad you didn't have Bobby get killed. Now, I just hope you can get Alex and Bobby fixed up and back in sync with each other.

Thanks for another great chapter!

This was about to fall off the bottom of the page! Please come back and finish this story. You've left us with Marcy near death and Eames and Goren both seriously injured and on their way to the hospital..........I've loved all the other little bits you've given us, but could you please finish up this story? Thanks!

Chapter 11: Universal Injustice

Danny Ross exploded into the emergency room, casting his eyes left and right as he searched for someone who might know what was going on. Challenged by a nurse as to his right to be there, he pulled out his badge. "Captain Danny Ross...two of my detectives were brought in from Central Park tonight. Detectives Goren and Eames."

The nurse nodded, familiar with both cases. "They are both in surgery, captain. So is the woman they believe was with them."

Ross looked confused for a moment. "Woman? What woman?"

"Um...Chandler...or Chauncey...something like that."

"Chambers? Marcy Chambers?"

"Yes, that's it.."

He pressed the heel of his right hand against his temple in a futile attempt to stave off the headache building behind his eyes. "Can you tell me their conditions?"

"I'm sorry, captain. They were not my patients. The only thing I can tell you is that they were sent up very quickly. At least one of them was critical, but I couldn't say who. The surgical waiting room is on the second floor..."

"Yes, yes...I know where it is." He started off, adding a quick 'thank you' as an after thought.
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Ross paced the surgical waiting room, wondering why the hell Marcy Chambers had been anywhere near the site of a shooting. Even if she was working with Goren and Eames, she was still a civilian. Eames, in particular, should know better. Then he wondered why Goren had been there and not home, where he was supposed to be. That left Eames, who was heading off for lunch the last he knew. He hated being out of the loop more than anything, and Eames knew that.

He was surprised when Mike Logan came into the room twenty minutes later. "What happened?" he asked, concern etched in his face. "I missed a call from Goren and when I get back to the squad they tell me he's been involved in a shooting. I thought he was on sick leave."

"He was. Do you know anything about this, Logan?"

"Not a thing, Cap. When I talked to Goren this morning, he had no intention of going anyplace."

Ross studied him for a moment, decided he was honestly baffled, and then resumed his pacing. And they waited.
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The first news they got was about Eames. The bullet passed cleanly through her side. Although blood loss complicated matters initially, she stabilized and would recover completely. Her surgeon promised to find out about Goren and Chambers and send out word.

A nurse brought them news about Goren a half hour later. After finding a bullet hole in his cast, they found a bullet lodged near the bone in his forearm. So they removed the cast and the bullet, setting a half-cast splint in place so the swelling could go down and they could put on a new cast. A bullet had also grazed his head, but the problem causing them the most time and concern was his knee. They would have to get back to Ross on that one.

Finally, a surgeon came to speak to them about Marcy. No one had been able to tell him exactly what had happened, but she had received a knife blade in her upper right abdomen. The knife had sliced through both her liver and her spleen. The surgeons had immediately removed the severely damaged spleen to help minimize her blood loss before turning their efforts to saving her liver. A person can live with no spleen. No one can survive without a liver. The damage, however, had been too much. In spite of all their efforts, they lost her on the operating table, six hours into a surgery they should never have tried but had to.

Logan sat heavily at the news. "Aw, man..."

Ross looked at him, curious. Did he want to get into the reasons for his dismay with Ross? Absolutely not. Both Goren and Eames would tear him apart. He knew that Eames was past the psychic issue. What she couldn't get past was the fact that Goren really liked Marcy. Even he could see it, as dense as he could sometimes be. Whether or not his friend had ever acted on his attraction, he had no idea, but this one was going to be a hard loss for him.

"Do you know something I don't know, Logan?"

I know lots of things you don't know, he thought to himself. But to Ross he simply shook his head. "She was a really nice person, cap. We all liked her. It's going to be a bitter pill to swallow for all of us."

Ross nodded. He understood that. He, too, had liked Marcy. "I want to know what she was doing there. She should never have been at the scene of a shooting."

Logan looked at his hands. "Have you ever tried to tell a woman what to do, Captain? I mean, one you have no authority over?"

"I want you to piece it all together, detective. Find out what happened and give me a full report as soon as you can get the information. By the time the locals got there, it was over. The details will have to come from Goren and Eames."

"Has anyone called Eames' family?"

"I don't think so. Do you need the numbers?"

"No. I just need her phone or his. If I can get in touch with her dad or her sister, they'll handle the rest."

"And what about Goren?"

"You know he's got nobody, captain. Nobody, but Eames. I think she already knows he's hurt."

Ross frowned. "What about his brother?"

Logan shook his head. "He wants nothing to do with his brother, and no one knows where to find him, besides."

"Try. Legally, the brother is his next of kin. I'll get you their personal effects. You can be responsible for them."

Logan watched the captain walk away. Even if he could locate Frank, Goren would kill him for doing it. As far as Goren was concerned, he had no next of kin, aside from his partner. He had changed all his paperwork after his mother's death to reflect that. If anything ever happened to him, Eames was his sole beneficiary.

After Ross brought him their phones, badges, and other personal items, Logan thumbed through the contact list on Eames' phone until he found her father's number, which he dialed into his own phone and called. He informed the retired cop of his daughter's injury and the positive outcome of her surgery. John Eames' relief did not surprise him, but what came after did. He asked about Goren. Logan told him what he knew, adding that he was still in surgery. He promised John he would still be there when he arrived and ended the call. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be tonight anyway. He'd canceled his date when he'd gotten word of an officer involved shooting in the park. The missed call from Goren and his failure to answer his callback gave him a bad feeling.

Once Goren was out of surgery and Logan was assured he had not suffered a career-ending injury, he sought out information about the gunman, knowing Goren would ask. The man who took Marcy's life would live. Not for the first time, Logan reflected on the universal injustice of life, knowing that what he saw as a travesty, Goren would take as another blow in a series of hits life had dealt him lately. He found himself wishing there was some way to spare him, but there wasn't. Eames, he knew, would also worry, if only because she cared deeply about her partner and knew how he was.

He found out the room Eames had been transferred to, relieved that Goren's room would be nearby, and he went to wait for her to waken, a harbinger of ill tidings. Sometimes, life really sucked.
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When Eames woke, the first person she saw at her bedside was her father. The second person was Logan, and his presence there, instead of her partner, made her already sore gut tighten. Both men greeted her with soft affection, and she voiced her biggest concern with a single word. "Bobby?"

Logan said, "He's going to be okay. They transferred him up here about a half hour ago. He's two doors down and he hasn't fully woken yet. I've been checking on him."

She moistened her lips. "How badly was he hurt?"

"He's not so bad. His knee was the worst of it."

But Eames wasn't stupid. She heard the hesitancy in his voice. "What?" Then it dawned on her. "Marcy? How is she?"

Logan looked at John before he returned his attention to Eames. "Um...she didn't make out as well, Alex."

"No...tell me she's going to be all right."

Logan shook his head. "I can't do that, sweetheart."

"Oh, my God...no...Mike..."

"She died in the operating room, Alex."

Eames closed her eyes as tears filled them and Marcy's last words came back to her. I changed this one.

Her premonitions could be changed...but someone had to die. Whether she meant to or not, Marcy had died in Goren's place. This loss would be hard enough for her partner to take. There was no way she was going to tell him exactly why Marcy had died. He accepted guilt far too readily. She still didn't know if she put any stock in psychic premonitions, but Marcy had believed it. And given time to deal with her jealousy, Eames was certain she would have come to truly like her. Now that chance had been taken from her, and she regretted its passing, even knowing what it meant for her relationship with her partner: one more obstacle in a recent series of obstacles they had so far managed to navigate successfully. This one, though, could have meant happiness for him, and she would be petty to begrudge him that.

She looked at her father and then at Logan. "I have to be the one to tell him," she said.

"That works for me," Logan agreed. "I wasn't looking forward to that conversation."

"Go check on him, Mike. I want to know when he's awake."

He recognized the determination in her face, and he chose not to argue. Once he was gone from the room, John addressed his daughter. "Alex, you need to take it easy."

She rested back against the pillows and sighed heavily. "Dad, he can't hear about this from anyone but me. Bobby isn't stupid. He'll figure it out on his own if everyone avoids answering his questions."

"It will be even worse if you cause more problems for yourself by trying to do too much."

"I don't want to do anything but visit my partner. If they want to take me in a wheelchair, fine. But I have to see him."

John knew well how stubborn his daughter was. He consented with a sigh. "We'll get you over to see him. But then I want you to take it easy. Deal?"

Reluctantly she nodded. Her emotions were in a turmoil, and she wasn't sure how to sort through them. She had to talk to Goren.

Logan returned and informed her, "He's out of it, Alex. They don't expect him to come around until sometime tomorrow, so get your rest."

"Will you stay with him, Mike, and let me know when they let him wake up? Please."

"Sure."

Logan sighed and resigned himself to a long, uncomfortable night in a hospital bedside chair. He began to consider the ways Goren could repay him. He was such a sucker for a please from a pretty woman.
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When Goren woke, he was first aware of a deep, burning pain in his knee that was close to overwhelming, and he groaned deeply. He felt a powerful urge to move his knee and when he did, the pain intensified almost to the point of making him vomit. In addition to the pain in his knee, he also had to cope with a pounding headache and a dull throb in his arm. Gradually and with great effort, he got past the pain, and he looked around the room for his partner. He was surprised, instead, to find Logan at his bedside, wanting to help but not knowing what he could do. "Mike..." he said softly, his voice hoarse from the breathing tube that had been in place through the prolonged surgery.

Logan stretched his stiff back as he stood up. "Hey, pal. How are you feeling?"

"Like hell."

"I imagine. Is there anything I can get you?"

Goren nodded. "Eames."

Of course, Logan thought with a smile. "She's two rooms down the hall. Do you feel up for another visitor?"

"Her? Anytime."

"I knew that's what you'd say. Hang tight and I'll get her in here."

He grabbed Logan's arm. "What about Marcy? Where is she?"

Logan looked away. "I'll find out for you, okay? Do you want me to get a nurse in here?"

He nodded. "That...would be a good idea, thanks."

"You got it. I'll be right back."

Goren wondered at Logan's evasiveness. He wasn't one to avoid a subject. But he was in too much pain to give it much thought, so he settled back and waited for Eames.

Logan's first destination was the nurses' station. "Hey, whoever's taking care of Goren...he's awake and he's in a lot of pain."

One of the nurses nodded at him. "I'll be right in."

"Good. While you're at it, his partner wants to see him."

"Oh, I don't know about getting her up just yet..."

"Well, either you people are going to take care of it, or she's going to get up on her own and take care of it herself. Your choice. You've got ten minutes, tops, to make your decision or you'll be chasing her down the hall."

A few minutes later, a nurse entered Eames' room with a wheelchair. "I called your doctor and he said if you can tolerate it, we can take you to visit your partner, but he wants you to make it brief, for both of your sakes. Rest is the best thing for you. Remember, you are only 18 hours out from a serious operation."

Reluctantly, Eames consented. She let the nurse and her father help her from the bed into the wheelchair. John laid a folded blanket across her lap. She kissed his cheek, glad he had returned that morning after breakfast. "Thanks, Dad."

"I'll wait here for you, sweetheart."

The nurse pushed her into the hall, where Logan was waiting outside Goren's room. He said to the nurse, "His pain is getting worse. I'll take her in if you can get him something to make him more comfortable."

She looked at him for a moment before she finally let him take the wheelchair. She walked off down the hall. Logan grumbled under his breath, and Eames looked up at him. "Why are you in the hall?"

"Because he wants to know where Marcy is and I suck at lying to him. Don't ask me why. I just can't lie to him."

She gave him a tired smile. "Thank you, Mike."

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

She wasn't sure because she knew how draining interacting with her partner could be. She felt badly for hoping his post-operative condition would key down his intensity. She knew that she couldn't delay telling him what had happened. Besides, she needed to see him, to judge for herself his condition and state of mind. "I have to see him."

Logan understood. "Prepare yourself, Alex. He is in a hell of a lot of pain."

He pushed her into the room. Her first impression was that he had not been exaggerating. She could read the tension in his body as clearly as she could see the pain in his eyes when he looked at her. Logan maneuvered her as close to the bed as he could get her. She reached out her hand and he grasped it without hesitating. "Are...you all right?" he asked, his concern for her most prominent.

"I'm going to be fine. It was a clean wound. It hurts, but it could have been a lot worse. They told me you did a number to that knee."

He shrugged. "It will heal."

"If you let it. You need to listen to the doctors, Bobby."

"Have you..."

He paused and closed his eyes, groaning. His face was a mask of pain and his grip tightened on her hand, reflexively. She squeezed his hand in response and waited for him to get a handle on the pain again. It took a few minutes.

Logan swore under his breath. "I'll go find that damn nurse."

He stormed from the room, determined. Eames allowed herself a small smile as she watched him leave. Then she turned her attention back to Goren. "Hang in there," she said softly, lightly caressing his arm.

He took a few deep breaths, then coughed. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize. Joint surgery is very painful."

"Tell me about it. Eames, have you heard...anything...about Marcy?"

There was no sense delaying the inevitable. She nodded. "Yes. I heard."

With a frown, he searched her face. "What?"

She tightened her grip again as he moved in the bed, flaring the pain in his knee and driving him back into the pillows. He struggled for another minute, then managed, "Tell me."

She took a deep breath, gently stroking his hand. "He got her...with that knife...and they lost her, Bobby. She died in surgery."

He got very still. Eames became concerned, leaning closer and moving her hand to caress his side. "I'm so sorry." When he didn't answer, she quietly begged, "Talk to me."

"Sh-she was there...because I wasn't able to drive..."

"Don't. Bobby, she should have listened to me and stayed by the castle. It was her choice to follow us, to place herself in danger. No one else made that choice for her. It was all on her."

The door opened and Logan returned with a nurse in tow. He immediately knew that Eames had told him. When Goren looked at him, he said, "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't want to tell me..."

"I promised Alex I wouldn't."

Eames continued to rub his side. "The news had to come from me, Bobby."

He met her eyes and held them until the nurse stepped into his line of vision with a soft apology. She cleaned a port on his IV line and slowly injected the contents of a syringe into the line. She said, "Give it a minute. This is strong stuff. This afternoon, you can start to take fluids and we'll see about getting you up tonight or tomorrow morning."

By the time she was done talking and stepped away from his side, he could feel the medicine begin to take hold. The pain retreated. He looked back at his partner. She watched the focus fade from his eyes and she reached forward to caress his cheek. "You need to let this one go, Bobby. She made a choice, and she knew what she was doing."

He held her gaze as he struggled against the medicine's sedating effects, but he didn't last long. His eyes slowly slid closed and he relaxed. Eames sighed and leaned back with a soft groan. "This is going to be a hard one for him, Mike."

He stepped up behind her. "They did seem to have a connection." He gently pulled the chair back from the bed. "Let's get you back to your room. I can stay in here with him, if you want."

"Let me know when he wakes up?"

"Sure, but these nurses aren't gonna like shuttling you back and forth. You need to rest and recover. Whatever comes of his grief, you'll have time to address it."

She knew he was right, but she also knew that with Goren, sooner was better than later. Back in her room, Logan stepped away and looked out the window as John and a nurse helped her back into bed. The nurse gave her a dose of painkiller and left after checking her vitals. Logan turned back from the window. John asked, "How did he take it?"

Eames answered, "I don't know yet. He needs time. I think that when it finally hits him, it's going to hit him hard."

"And I'll be in here post haste to get you in there," Logan promised, not particularly wanting to deal with his friend in that state.

Eames nodded, knowing she would be the one he needed to turn to when he dealt with his grief. She fully intended to share hers with him as well, as much as it surprised her that she felt the way she did. Right now, though, the medicine was catching up with her, and she slept.

Good chapter even if it will be hard for Bobby to deal with another loss and for Eames to deal with a destroyed Bobby!!! i'm waiting for the next chapter... Great job

Another great chapter, IStar! Thank you!

I'm ready for more.......