A/N: Part 5 in my series of stories. It follows 'When the Blood Burns'. With my past stories, I tried to keep it along the canon timeline and plot, straying here and there but eventually bringing it around to fit within the lines. However, I decided to take a leap and break canon timeline and plot altogether with this story. So I'm officially off into my own little Alternate Universe from here on out.

Pairing: B/A, M/D….I don't mind other writers writing Mike/Carolyn, however, I've never been a true believer in that relationship personally. The reason I chose Denise, a completely unknown character in canon other than a name mentioned once, is because it'll give me the opportunity to create an original character.

Rating: T (M for selected chapters)

Warnings: All the usual, and now including Alternate Universe.

Disclaimer: I own what I've created; Dick Wolf owns what's his.

Summary: "I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls." - Job 30:29

He couldn't move. As his heavy eyelids fluttered open, confusion and fear set in as the realization of paralysis took over. The only thing he could move were his eyes. He saw the passing streets as neon lights streamed through his glazed sight; the lights stretched on for miles. They were the lights of the city and of passing cars, but they were fuzzy, fragments of light, movement, and shadow that appeared and then disappeared. Static noises vibrated in his ears as he continued to stare out into the world that kept moving, going on and on. He tried to move again, this time his head, but couldn't. He couldn't even feel the window he was leaning against.

What was going on and why couldn't he move? An overwhelming sense of helplessness gripped him with that thought, making his slowly beating heart tremble. Closing his eyes, he willed the feeling to go away.

When he woke, an unfamiliar fan circled above him against a dark grey plastered ceiling. Looking around to his right, there stood a woman. Dark hair tickled at his face as she leaned over his body. That was when he realized he could feel.

He could break free.

Jerking his arms forward, they caught and strained as he pulled. Looking back toward the head of the bed, his arms were bound by a set of handcuffs…His handcuffs, he wondered as he laid in a bed that wasn't his own. Letting his eyes fall back on the only other person in the room, he felt the hot trembling rush of rage as his ears started to ring.

The ringing was starting to hurt his head as tears of pain welled. She had done something to him. She had taken him, abducted him and …what? Drugged him? Clenching his eyes shut, he felt her fingers skim down over his bare chest. The tingling was like being electrocuted. Trying to move away from her touch, it only caused the cuffs to tighten around his wrists.

Shutting his eyes, he willed myself awake. All he could do was jerk to the right and…

His body jerked right at the exact moment gravity took over. A sharp pain flared in his head as he tumbled, tangled in sheets, and hit something hard and solid with a deafening crack.

"Aw, fuck," he groaned as the taste of blood from biting his lip filled his cotton-dried mouth.

Forcing the gagging aside at the taste, he spat as much blood out as he could onto the floor. He breathed in deeply while shaking violently as he barely blinked his eyes open. A blue neon sign was partly seen outside the window above him

Royal Mot-, he read before his vision once again slid to darkness.

His head felt foggy when he awoke again. A soft groan escaped his dry lips as he rolled over onto his back. He felt hung-over, like he'd spent the whole day and night drinking. Every muscle in his body felt tight, aching and dry…He was terribly dehydrated. Dragging himself up off the floor, he kicked the sheet off his feet as he searched around for the bathroom.

Stumbling through the entryway, he felt his stomach ache and then twist up into his chest. The dry heaving stung his already sore throat, making tears of pain well up in his eyes. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he was able to finally settle the heaving as he gripped tightly at the edges of the counter top. He turned the cold water on and splashed his face a few times, trying to wake his head up. Then he ducked his head under the faucet as he took in mouthfuls of water. He was aching for water. Using his hand, he drank until his stomach ached and neck hurt from the odd angle.

Staring down at the sink, he watched the water drip down as he tried to think. At the moment, he didn't know anything. He had no idea where he was or why, but that was the least of his worries. As he peered up into the mirror at himself, he stared in a dark pair of bloodshot eyes that were foreign to him. Skimming over his face, the stubble over his jaw line and chin, running over his upper lip, he wrinkled his head in thought as he willed the fogginess in his head away. He needed clarity. He needed a memory.

He needed to know who he was.

Looking down at his bare body, took in the chest hair, the faint lines of scars, his long legs, scarred knees, and feet. He could see his body, feel it, but it was like seeing it for the first time through the eyes of a stranger.

He willed the fear of panic away as he closed his eyes and rested his tired foggy head against the mirror. Through the deep breathing and the racing thoughts, he heard a faint ringing. It started in the back of his head and grew closer until it was loud and intrusive, until he couldn't think. Reaching up, he cupped his ears as it vibrated within his entire head. Feeling the panic, then anger kick in, he let out a yell right before he slammed a hand into the mirror and then grabbing it, pulled the cabinet off the wall and threw it into a wall.

The shattering snapped him out of the his sudden rage as he stood stunned in the bathroom staring at the broken glass. Looking at his hand, he saw a bandage already wrapped around the hand he'd slammed into the glass. He'd done something like that before. That thought didn't feel like an assumption; it felt like a fact.

Then, he noticed his wrists. There were abrasions and bruises over them all the way around in a circle. Rubbing at them, he wondered what had made the marks. Was he tied down? Shaking his head of the absurdity of what was happening to him, he looked around the bathroom and saw nothing that could help him so he left.

Out in the room, he took it in completely for the first time and realized it was a motel room. The bed was unmade, sheet on the floor and blanket bunched up at the bottom. There was a pile of clothes on the opposite side of the bed from where he'd woken up. Picking up the boxer shorts first, he slipped them on and then grabbed the pair of black jeans. Digging into his pocket, he found no wallet but he did find a money clip with cash. After dressing in the jeans and t-shirt, he slipped on his socks and shoes before picking up the jacket and dug into the pockets. Again there was no wallet but he did have a keychain full of keys.

Looking through the drawers of the nightstand, he found the motel room key and nothing else. After a thorough search of the room and bathroom, he discovered that he hadn't planned on staying in that motel room for long. Everything was empty and there was no suitcase or bags of any kind in the small closet. Making sure there was nothing to be found, and with not finding anything, he opened the door and left.

It was cold in the early dawn air as he zipped up his jacket and headed to the front office. Feeling highly paranoid, he kept looking around parking lot and at anyone and thing that moved. Out on the street, cars, taxis, trucks, and buses went by, all the noise was making his head hurt even more. In the distance he could hear sirens getting closer and then fading away.

A man was coming out of the office as he approached it; the man looked over at him, gave him the once over, and then kept walking as he took out a cigarette. He noticed a bulge in the man's leather jacket, in the back…He had a gun.

How he knew that he had no idea. He watched the guy for a few seconds before opening the door and slipping inside the heated office. A young woman sat behind the desk with a cup of coffee at her lips. She wore black leather, had multiple piercings in her ears, nose and eyebrows, and her short cut black hair had some red dye throughout parts of it.

As he approached the counter, she didn't pay any attention to him as her eyes were focused on the little TV screen in the corner. Looking toward the screen, he saw some Japanese animation cartoon playing on it. He dropped the key on the counter and then cleared his throat as he waited for her to turn around.

When she did, she barely glanced at him as she picked up the key, saying, "I thought I told you to leave it in the room when you left."

"You told me that…When?"

She put the key up on a hook as she answered, "Two days ago."

So, he was had been in that room for two days. But why and was he alone? "Was, uh…was there someone else with me?"

That caused her to look up at him. The young woman, who looked to be in her very early twenties gave him an amused smile as she said, "A woman. I knew you were wasted when you arrived; you could barely walk. She practically had to drag you to the room."

He leaned on the counter as he took all of that in. Looking at his left hand, he saw no ring on his finger and he didn't think he'd been married to anyone. Giving a nod, he said, "I, uh…I don't remember…Um, did we arrive in a car together?"

"You two walked up, but like I said, she was practically carrying you. She checked you both in."

"Who paid for the room?"

"She did."

He looked at her, waiting for her to understand what he was asking. When she didn't, he asked, "Can I see the receipt?"

"Sorry, she paid cash."

"You didn't get her name at all?"

"I didn't say that, asshole, I just said she paid in cash," she told him. "I got a name, yours too, but as usual they were fake. She called herself Norma Jean."

"Norma Jean…as, uh, as in Marilyn Monroe?" he asked in confusion. "Was she blond?"

"No," she told him like he was an idiot for not knowing himself, "brunette, probably why she went with Marilyn's real name."

Giving a slight nod, he then asked, "Was she tall, short?"

The young woman gave him a concerned look as she said, "You really don't remember anything about her, do you?" She shook her head and mumbled under her breath about him being a 'pig' before answering, "She was tall, nicely dressed, and spoke like she was from Jersey. Very beautiful, and definitely not a hooker. Why she was with you I have no clue."

The not being a hooker part seemed to ease some of his worries, but not by much. "Had she been drinking too, could you tell?" he asked, feeling more and more agitated.

"She seemed fine to me, although a little nervous."

"Nervous, like how?"

"What're you a cop? How am I supposed to know 'like how', I don't know, she just seemed nervous. Look, she left yesterday morning around five. Someone picked her up, I don't know who. Anything else?"

He stared at her for a long moment before finally asked, "You didn't check on me, or go into the room after she left?"

"I didn't, but my boyfriend did. He said you were asleep and once he made sure you weren't dead, he left. She paid for three days."

He took that in as he asked, "Uh…what was my name?"

She picked up her cup of coffee as she said, "Well, you didn't say you were him, you just said that you felt like Jules Verne. Something about having an out of body experience, stuck in a sci-fi novel or some shit like that. Like I said, you were out of it."

Frowning, he rubbed over his face as he said with an air of frustration, "Jules Verne…the science-fiction author." He felt the confusion as to why he would give a false name, but then wondered for a second if it could have been real. Feeling that it wasn't, he turned to leave. He stopped halfway to the door and looked back at her. "You wouldn't by any chance have security cameras?"

"Why, did she steal your wallet?"

He felt like laughing, but in a way that made his stomach twist all over again. "Yeah, I think she did."

The young woman shook her head as she turned her attention back to the TV. "Sorry, but no cameras."

He sighed in disappointment as he gave a nod. Pushing the door open, he stepped back out into the cold and saw the man still out there. He was leaning against the wall smoking as he checked his watch. When the man looked over at him, he asked, "Can I bum one off you?" he asked, gesturing for a smoke.

The moment he saw the man light one up, he had a sudden ache for one. He must be a smoker. The man took out a pack and shook one out for him. He took the smoke and the offered lighter and lit it up. "Thanks, man."

The man just gave him a shrug as he took the lighter back then returned to minding his own business.

Taking a long drag off the smoke, he felt some of the tension ease as he looked around the street. He shook his head at the dingy street, the rundown buildings, the gang signs and rap lyrics spray painted over most of the faded damaged brick walls. Shivering against the cold, he looked over at the man and asked, "You work here?"

The man glanced over at him like he was out of his mind or something. Then, he said, "Yea, what's it to ya?"

"That your girlfriend," he asked as he gestured inside the office.

The man glared at him as he pushed himself off the wall and turned to him. "You got something to say 'bout my girl?"

He quickly turned to square up with the guy and involuntarily reached to his side as he held his hand up. "Whoa, hey, I didn't mean anything by it…Just making conversation."

The man had reached around to his back at the same time he reached for his side. He realized that the man was going for his gun, and maybe that was what he had reached for as well. The only problem was that the man had a real gun and he didn't. Before the man could pull it, a Chinese man on a bike rode up to the curb and stopped. "Mister Ramón?"

The man relaxed his arm as he said, "Yea," without taking his eyes of him. Then he turned away as he pulled out a wallet.

He watched the exchange of food and money as he stick the cigarette back in his mouth and stepped further away. As the man walked by him with bags of food in hand, he crumpled up the receipt and tossed it at him before opening the office door and going inside. Shaking his head at the man, and after breathing a sign of relief, he continued to smoke while he thought about what to do.

Glancing down at the crumpled up receipt, he reached down and picked it up. Opening it, he read the address. He looked at the address that was printed on the sign on the window of the motel and noticed that it and the Chinese restaurant where on the same block. He was in the Bronx.

And it was Monday, February 21th, 2005.

One Police Plaza

She sat anxiously in the chair at her desk as her eyes watched as the Chief of D's along with a hotshot Defense Attorney, ADA Ron Carver, and the big DA man himself, Jack McCoy, all started to speak at once, yelling over one another as her captain stood steadily by. Deakins had his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set hard as he stared down the men gathered into his office. Even with the black eye patch he'd been required to wear since his suffered from a bout of Bell's Palsy, the man was still intimidating as hell.

Deakins took a deep breath and then said something so soft she couldn't hear from her observation point at her desk, but it seemed to break the sparring match between the other four men. They all looked to him as he continued to speak, never uncrossing his arms or relaxing his tensed jaw. After all was said and done, all four men left the office with an air of defeat and resignation.

Her eyes watched as Carver passed her desk; he briefly glanced over at her and gave her a slight, reassuring smile, but she could tell he had his doubts.

"Eames."

Alex wiped her head back to Deakins and let out a breath. Knowing all along that he'd want to talk to her next, she pushed back in her chair and got up. Once in his office and standing, her own arms crossed as her anticipation and anxiety grew, she asked, "Well?"

Deakins shook his head as he rounded her and sat on the edge of his desk. "Unless we find Nicole Wallace, and until Goren shows back up the State-"

"Meaning Jack McCoy," she bit out angrily under her breath.

"-is looking to indict him," Deakins continued to say despite her interruption. "He has the officer's statement who will testify that Bobby was the last one to go into that hospital room."

Alex sighed and closed her eyes, "He didn't do it, we all know that."

"Alex," Deakins said, cutting her off. "I know we all know that, but knowing and proving are two different things." He was quiet for a moment then asked, "Any word?"

"Not yet," she told him as she took out her cell phone and checked it again.

There had been no calls accepted or returned by Bobby. She had tried calling him Sunday morning when she awoke to an empty bed. Then she tried later in the afternoon when he still hadn't returned home, and then last night, and again this morning when she woke up.

All she kept saying to herself was that this wasn't like last time. This wasn't like before; there was no reason for Bobby's disappearance. There was no one out to get him; no one that they knew of anyway; no one except for Nicole Wallace. However, they had no reason to suspect Nicole of doing anything to Bobby. She had made her move already; she had gotten to Caleb, turned him onto Bobby, and then let him loose. After the damage was done, she had killed Caleb in a way that cast suspension onto Bobby.

Even though she didn't like it, Bobby's disappearance had nothing to do with Nicole. Bobby's disappearance had everything to do with him, and maybe even her. For all she knew, he could be avoiding her. Instead of coming home after visiting his mother Saturday night, he stayed gone. The only thing was she had no idea where he was now. He had been suspended pending the investigation into Caleb Cunningham's death, so it wasn't like he had a job to get to.

Deakins had been quiet, letting her settle herself before telling her, "There's nothing we can do."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him as she said, "Yes, there is. I can testify. I can bring into evidence the video surveillance of the nurse, who we suspect is Nicole, coming in and leaving the hospital. There's reasonable doubt."

Deakins gave a nod and smile slightly, "That's why ADA Carver wants to jump over to the defense side. He doesn't think Bobby's guilty either."

She was momentary taken back by that as she said, "Then who was that lawyer working for?"

Deakins let out a sigh and leaned his hands on the desk as he told her, "That was Leonard Starks; he's representing Paul Savoie. His trial is set for next month and he's claiming that Bobby set him up, planted evidence, and now with this recent murder of Caleb Cunningham, he's looking to tarnish Bobby's reputation as a good cop. With the way things are going, Starks just might win his case."

Alex sighed heavily and shook her head. This was ridiculous. Turning, she opened the door and left the office. Deakins didn't try to get her to stop or come back, he let her go.

Jimmy's Bar & Grill

He sat at a table in the back of the bar and ordered a breakfast plate, a glass of water, and coffee. As he waited, he downed the glass of water and then pulled out the money clip. He didn't know whether to be surprised or not that he was carrying around almost five hundred dollars in his pocket. He had no way of knowing if he had a credit card in the wallet he didn't have, or if he even had a wallet on him at the motel. For all he knew it wasn't stolen but just at his home, wherever that was. Or in his car, and that was only if he even owned a car.

Putting the money back into his pocket, he tried to remember something as he stared at the coffee cup in front of him. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the air, took in the sounds, and tried to remember anything. A name, a face, a touch or smell…a voice…anything.

All he got was darkness. All he felt was emptiness. And all he remembered was a vast blankness of open space. He heard someone come up to him as his eyes jerked open. The waiter sat the plate of food in front of him and refilled the cup of coffee.

"Anything else?"

"More water, uh…please," he asked as he picked up the knife and fork and started eating.

The way he saw it, there was no reason wondering around the Bronx in search of something he didn't even know existed or where, on an empty stomach. He needed to think, and while he thought he figured he could at least eat. He was starving and thirsty as hell.

The waiter refilled his glass with more water and he quickly took a gulp of it before going back to eating. He felt sick to eat, but he knew he had to. He didn't think he'd eaten or drunk anything in the past two days. He felt weak and light-headed, drained of energy and his body hurt.

As he thought about his options, he figured the two most logical things to do was to go to the police and to the hospital. It was the only thing he could think of in trying to find out why he couldn't remember anything. Once finished with the food, he tossed some money down, grabbed the jacket, and then headed toward the exit. He was craving a drink but he didn't want to seem impaired while talking to the doctors. As soon as he was outside in the cold again, he waved down a taxi.

"Where to?" the taxi driver asked once he was seated inside.

"The, uh, nearest hospital."

The driver gave him a look but he started the fare and made a u-turn, taking him in the opposite direction.

He figured he would go to the hospital, because once he told the doctors he had amnesia, they would likely call the police.

Mike Logan's Apartment

Lower East Side, Manhattan

Mike smelt the coffee brewing the moment he stepped out of the shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he headed down the hall and smiled at the woman standing in his kitchen making them breakfast. Sliding up behind her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed over her ear. "Hum, good morning."

"Good morning to you, coffee?"

"Please, extra strong."

Denise chuckled as she took down a cup and filled it for him. "Black?"

"Of course, I don't like all the milk and sugar ruining the taste of perfectly good coffee." Taking the cup from her, he gave her a kiss and then started for the bedroom to dress. "You should add a little more bacon to that skillet, I'm gonna need the energy."

She just chuckled and shook her head at him as he continued down the hall. It didn't take him long to get dressed for the day. Taking a plaid tie off the hook on the back of the closet door, he went to wrap it around his neck when he heard a pounding at his front door.

"Want me to get that?" Denise called from the living room.

"Yeah!" he called back as he adjusted the length of the two ends of the tie on his chest and starting tying it. Once done, he slipped on his suit jacket and then picked up his badge pin and put it on the left lapel. He had once had an American Flag pin there, but had given it away to someone a long time ago. Grabbing his gun and keys, then his cell phone and wallet, he headed out of the bedroom. Clipping the gun to his belt, he asked, "Who was at the door?"

"I was."

At hearing Alex Eames's voice, Mike looked up and saw both Denise and Alex sitting at his kitchen table. Denise was looking to him for help while Alex was staring her down. "Eames?"

"Is Bobby here?"

At that question, he shook his head as he approached her, but staying close to his girlfriend. "No. I haven't seen him since Saturday."

Alex finally took her eyes off of Denise as she stared straight at him, asking, "Does he know you're sleeping with one of his ex-girlfriends?"

Mike suddenly didn't like where this was going or that tone in her voice. Clearing his own throat, he said, "No."

"Yes, he does."

He turned to Denise with a look of surprised as he said, "I didn't tell him."

"But I did, Saturday night."

"You saw Bobby?" Alex asked as she looked back at her.

Feeling conflicted between wanting to confront Denise his damn self, but also wanting to steer Alex clear of her, Mike turned as he held his hands up. "Take it easy, Alex. What's this about?"

Leaning back in the chair, and crossing her arms, Alex told him, "Bobby didn't come home Saturday night, and no one's seen or heard from him since."

"So, you figured he was here?" Mike asked in confusion as he looked down at her. "I don't know him like that, Alex. You know that."

"I know, but I was out of options." Alex then looked to Denise and asked, "Where did you see him?"

Mike turned to her and saw the look on her face.

Denise wasn't trying to start anything, and she wasn't hesitant or being untruthful as she told her, "This bar in Spanish Harlem called Stevie Ray's."

"Where we had our date?" Mike asked in suspension.

She gave a shrug as she got up out of the chair. "I have no idea why he was there or how he knew, but a bartender friend of mine called me when he saw Bobby there. He remembered that we dated once. I returned to the bar to see what was going on. My friend said he was looking real bad," she told them both as she got another cup down and filled it with coffee. "Would you like a cup, Alex?"

"Sure," she answered before asking, "How bad?"

"Depressed," she answered as she took poured another cup. "At least that was what I thought when I saw him. He had that lost look, you know," she said that while handing the cup to Alex. "The one he gets when he's in a really dark place."

Alex gave a nod as she said, "I know the one. He was drinking."

Denise gave a nod. "A lot," she told her as she sat back down.

Mike took a seat at the table while the two women talked. He didn't think that Goren would suddenly disappear like that. True, he didn't know the man well other than what he'd experienced firsthand. Goren could be very unpredictable at times, but to not call Alex to keep her from worrying didn't sound right to him at all. "He's suspended, right? Until everything settles down?"

"Yeah," Alex sternly said before taking a gulp of the coffee.

"He told me that you two were living together, but that you're moving out now."

Alex rubbed at her head as she gave a nod. "He's…difficult. Much more difficult than I expected."

Denise gave her a soft smile as she said, "He must really love you to have even tried. During the time we dated, he never let me into his apartment. We always went back to my place."

Mike looked over at her and said, "I don't want to hear you and him going anywhere, or doing anything, at all together."

Denise just gave him a look and took a sip of coffee. "You knew I dated him before asking me out."

"So, you're saying I had it coming?" he asked in confusion as she just smiled again. He had to admit though, it was a beautiful smile.

"I should go," Alex said as she got up from the table. "If you hear from him-"

"You'll be the first to know, Alex," Denise said as she also stood.

"I guess that's my cue to leave as well, we do have work to do," Mike told Alex as he stood up and leaned over to give Denise another kiss before heading toward the door. He took his coat off the hanger and then followed Alex out. "Are you good to work?"

Alex didn't say anything but he saw the anger and determination in her eyes as she got behind the wheel of the department issue SUV.

Wherever Bobby was, Mike didn't envy him at all. Once Bobby returned home alive, Alex was going to kill him.

TBC…