Author's Note: Spoilers through season 8, I suppose. This story also contains major character death. By now many LOCI fans have heard about the announcement that either Ross, Eames or Goren will be killed off at the beginning of season 9. As their have been rumors Goren may come back on occasion, a friend suggested that Eames would be the one killed. That was the original inspiration for this story. I don't own LOCI, because if I did, I would write Goren off the show by killing him off and then I would partner Eames and Nichols.

Ashes From the Fire

Summary: Sometimes the worst part is not the rain of fire, but what follows.

Ross and Nichols' shoes made crunching noises as they broke through the thin layer of ice that had formed on the sidewalk overnight. The morning, unnaturally quiet for New York and bitterly cold had forced the two men to wear heavy jackets, scarves, and hats, so that they were barely distinguishable from the every other New Yorker that day.

"Wheeler doesn't need a ride, does she?" Nichols asked, as though remembering something terribly important that he had completely forgotten about until it was too late.

If the circumstances had been different, it might have been funny. Nichols' disconnect from the rest of the world had been fodder for many jokes.

"No, her old partner is driving her," Ross replied.

Both men were silent as they drove to the cemetery where their colleague was going to be buried.

xxxxx

The sun shone directly in their eyes making it difficult to see. Beyond their tears the world was merely a blurry fuzz of color, contrasting with the murmured words of the other attendees, which were all too clear and sharp. Standing there in the bitter cold, memories flooded, unbidden into Ross' mind.

xxxxx

Six Weeks Ago

Ross did not know all of the particulars of the situation but what he did know was bad enough. The precinct had received a call about officers down in a firefight near where Goren and Eames were supposed to be. From bystander accounts Ross learned that while Goren had been trying to talk down the suspect, another man with a gun appeared. Eames threw herself between the shooter and her partner, taking a bullet and returning fire. Then the original suspect started shooting and all hell had broken loose. Both the suspect and the armed man were killed, and Goren and Eames badly wounded.

Nichols had been the first cop on the scene. He'd found Eames lying on the ground, unconscious, and loosing blood quickly, having taken at least three bullets. Her piece still rested in her limp hand. Goren was slumped up against a trashcan, next to her, also unconscious. It was difficult to tell how badly he was injured because of the blood smeared all over his clothing. It appeared that he had dragged or carried Eames, and that at least some of the blood on him was hers. Nichols had done what he could for Eames till the paramedics arrived.

The following hours had been some of the worst in Ross' recent memory. Eames had been in extremely critical condition, and the doctors were not sure she would survive. Goren had more extensive injuries than anyone had initially realized, though he was slightly better off than his partner.

At three am, the doctors informed the assembled crowd of Ross, Nichols, Wheeler, and various members of Eames' family that though Eames had fought to live, her injuries had been too extensive and she had not survived. The grief of Eames' family, and especially of her parents was a terrible thing to witness. Her parents just sort of crumbled. Nichols appeared to be in a state of shock, and Wheeler gripped his hand tightly, as tears leaked out of her eyes. Though his voice was hoarse and shaking slightly Ross had inquired "And Robert Goren?" and the doctors had told them it was too soon to tell.

Three Weeks Ago

"Wheeler, Nichols," Ross stuck his head out of his office. "Get in here"

Once they were inside, Ross closed the door.

"That was the hospital. Goren's still very weak but they feel confident he's going to make it. They've also agreed to let us talk to him for a few minutes. He's asleep now, but they think he'll be coming around within the hour. The two of you and I are going to go over to talk to him."

"What are we going to tell him about Eames?" Wheeler asked.

"We're not. He's not supposed to get any stressful or exciting news right now."

"Captain, he's going to ask about her," Nichols said.

"Let's hope he doesn't," Ross replied, knowing that it was a futile hope.

"What are we going to do?" Wheeler wondered, half to herself.

"I don't know," Ross admitted. "Pray that he doesn't ask."

They rode to the hospital in solemn silence. When they arrived, they were shown to Goren's room. There was only one chair. Ross tried to offer it to Wheeler, but they were all of them too nervous to sit. Goren stirred at their entrance.

"Cap'in," he spoke, his speech slightly slurred by sleep. He blinked. Ross could see him looking from one of them to the next. Goren frowned.

"Wh-Where's Eames?"

Nichols and Wheeler both automatically looked to Ross.

"Where's Eames?" Goren repeated, his voice stronger. "What's happened to her?"

"Goren—"

"No, no, no! No, it's not true! Where's Eames? She has to be okay, she has to be!"

The machines by Goren's bed started beeping wildly.

"I'm sorry," Ross said quietly.

Goren let out a cry of great anguish. The detectives, unable to bear his grief, removed themselves from the room.

xxxxx

Ross shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to rid himself of the memory. Goren had died a few days after they had spoken to him. Ross heard them again, in his mind. iHeart failure/i, the doctors had said.

Nichols' hand on his arm brought Ross out of his nightmarish reverie. Most of the mourners had left.

"Time to go," Nichols observed.

"You have the address?" Ross asked.

"Of course."

xxxxx

Ross fumbled in his pocket for the key to Goren's apartment, but at last found it and inserted it in the door. He paused for a moment, hand on the handle before taking a deep breath and opening the door. He and Nichols entered, noticing immediately the books everywhere, on shelves, and stacked neatly on nearly every available surface. Beyond that, aside from the unmade bed and a few dirty dishes in the sink, there were no signs that anyone had actually ilived/i in the apartment recently.

"It's a terrible thing," Nichols remarked quietly, as he took in the room, "that in the end, this is what is left of him."

Ross knew that it was not pity that Nichols was expressing, which was good, because Goren wouldn't have wanted pity. It was a testament to their years as partners that Ross knew that Nichols was not only saying what he was saying, if taken at face value. Nichols frequently couched things in simplistic terms, hiding very well that he understood the issue in all it's complexity. Language is a kind of protection, for Nichols, Ross thought. A layer between Nichols and the truth, and the world and the truth, and Nichols and the world.

Yes," he replied simply, in agreement.

There was something inappropriate about the tidiness of the apartment. It seemed that such a man as Goren would have something else, something more substantial left behind. Of course there was his impressive solve record, and his and Eames' impressive solve record. And that was an accomplishment, but that was something separate and less personal. For a man with such personality, Ross expected him to have left a larger mark in the world. He hoped more people would remember Goren for who he was, not what his reputation was.

Goren had not lived there of course, for several weeks before his death. Heart failure. Ross remembered. He was usually a fairly practical man, but he could not shake the nagging feeling that he was partially responsible for Goren's demise. Heart failure. Because Goren was sick, or because the first thing he heard after waking up was that his partner of more than ten years was dead?

"It's not your fault," Nichols said, causing Ross to start. "I can see the guilt written all over your face. Let it go."

"I know I should. But I can't help thinking that…"

"It wasn't you, Danny. It would have happened whether or not you were there. I think Goren's…been gone a long time. I don't think…Goren was ever really alive, not fully alive, when I knew him. You didn't see that, maybe, but Alex Eames did. Because she…"

There was a long silence as Nichols was clearly thinking, and Ross had the distinct impression that Nichols was remembering things or making connections that he wasn't going to share. Ross waited patiently for Nichols to finish his thoughts and remember that he was still there.

"She understood him very well. She knew… him so very well, and even she wasn't fully prepared to admit that he was mostly gone, to accept it, but she knew." Nichols was warming to the subject, and Ross could hear in Nichols' voice that the last connections had been made and everything was finally in place.

Nichols continued, "There was a part of him in her, and a part of her in him, of course…but it's the piece of him in her that's most important. He knew a piece of himself was in her, and that it was the only part of him that was still alive. He was a shell, without her. He needed her. And when she died, he had nothing left."

More silence passed between them as Ross digested this information. Heart failure, he thought.

"His relatives are coming?"

"Yes, next week. They will deal with his things then."

The room seemed huge and cavernous. They left the apartment, and the lock echoed too loudly as the door swung shut behind them.

~Finis~