All Rights Belong To Others... No harm or infringement intended.

These "scenes" were written for what I intended to be an original story that I haven't been able to flesh out. Reading over them the other day, I thought they could have been some "missing scenes" from "Untethered". So, with that in mind I rewrote a couple of the "scenes" to be more "Untethered" specific.

So I guess, if you haven't seen "Untethered" yet - ( if you haven't... why haven't you?) - there might be spoilers.


Untethered - 5 Short Missing Scenes

He couldn't shut it off. As much as he wanted to, as much as he begged for it to stop, there was no "off" switch. No place to hide, no avenue of escape. He curled up as tightly as he could; covering his head with his arms to conceal the tears, muffle the screams.

They mustn't hear him scream.

He wasn't sure when it started, the voices. The accusations, the questions, the naked disgust...there had to have been a beginning, right? A time before... before his stomach was sick and his head hurt. Before sound was too loud and light too cold, colors too bright and faces too difficult to focus on. A time before having such a good memory became such a bad thing. He'd had a good memory, once.

"Bobby?" he heard a voice above him, and he cringed, folding himself in tighter.

"No," someone whispered hoarsely. Was that really his voice? Had he screamed that much, that so little of it remained?

"Bobby, it's okay, it's Alex. No one is going to hurt you now," the voice came again, very softly.

Softly...a woman's voice, it was a woman's voice. He couldn't remember any of them being a woman, before. No, all those voices had been men, hard-edged, cold, and pain usually followed. He cringed; would pain follow this voice, too?

"No one will hurt you, now," she repeated. "I'm not going to hurt you, either."

"Please..."

"We're going to get you out of here; it's all over now, Bobby," she said, and he flinched as a hand touched his arm. "You're safe now, I promise."

"I...I don't..." he stammered, and the hand rubbed gently on his arm.

"It's going to be all right," she continued to speak soothingly. "Look at me? Please, Bobby?"

Bobby. He coughed; was that his name? Was he 'Bobby'? The woman wanted him to look at her. Carefully, he pulled his arms away from his face, and he heard a slight gasp. He froze, uncertain; until the voice reassured him it was okay to open his eyes.

Slowly he eased his eyelids open. A fuzzy face came into view, long dark hair, and the hand continued to rub softly on his arm. "Ea...?" What was her name again? He swallowed and shivered and tried to sit up. The small room spun sickeningly and he swallowed hard, desperately trying to avoid throwing up. "Can't..." he whispered, and huddled down again. It didn't feel quite so bad like this, and as the darkness descended, he thought how warm and gentle the hand on his arm felt.


"He was beyond terrified," Eames said quietly as she paced the length of the small waiting room. Sitting a few feet away was Captain Danny Ross.

Detective Bobby Goren had unofficially, gone undercover at Tates Correctional in upstate New York and was staying in contact with Eames. After he failed to contact her at the pre-arranged time, she reluctantly approached Captain Ross. The two of them had driven through the night to find out what had gone wrong and to get him out of the facility. "He wasn't even sure of his own name."

"According to the attending, the sensory deprivation alone would be enough to unhinge anybody, let alone the beginnings of dehydration."

"Don't say that," Eames said sharply, turning to stare down Ross with an icy glare. "Don't ever say that. Bobby's not 'unhinged.' We're gonna get him back." There was a determination there that the captain couldn't answer, and he simply held her gaze.

"I hope you're right, Eames. Someone of Goren's abilities..." he let that hang in the air; "...can sometimes be the most vulnerable to … to challenges." He'd seen it before, an almost frantic disassociation with the very talents that interrogators were after. It was no surprise to him therefore, that Bobby had displayed some amnesiac behaviors during his rescue. What would be more telling, would be his interaction with them when they were allowed to see him. How he reacted then would tell them how badly he had been damaged by all this.

"The Attorney General's office already has a team up at Tate's looking into the situation," Ross said, drawing Eames's attention. "If anybody so much as looks in the wrong direction, they'll be downtown for questioning before they can blink." It was a promise.

Eames stiffened slightly and looked away, her focus removed from the waiting area as she gazed down the hallway. "He's in pain," she murmured, swallowing hard. "We should be with him."

"The readjustment won't be pretty," Ross said quietly. "I don't think Bobby would want you to see him like that." It was one thing that Ross was absolutely correct about, but it didn't make Eames feel any better about waiting.

She took up pacing once again.


"Hey," Bobby's voice was weak, and soft, and impossibly tired-sounding, but the faint smile on his face was genuine. That there was recognition in the brown eyes sent a thrill of relief through Eames that was so strong it literally made her shiver. The smile faded into a frown. "Y' okay?" he murmured.

"I'm fine," Eames promised as she pulled a chair closer to the hospital bed and settled into it. "It's about time they let me in here," she mock-complained, but there was a smile on her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Do you really wanna know?" he mumbled, reaching up wearily to rub his eyes with one hand—the one without the IV, Eames noted. She hated those things too.

"Well, I did ask," she replied as she reached over and curled her fingers around his left hand, carefully as that one held the IV. "but you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

Bobby swallowed convulsively; he wasn't sure if that was an invitation to be quiet, or a request to poke around in his mind. He'd had enough digging for answers the last few days, and he shifted slightly, clearly agitated.

"I didn't tell them," he blurted out abruptly, and the brown eyes begged for her belief. "I didn't tell them anything."

Mental images stirred up by the assertion assailed him whether he wanted them to or not. Bobby cringed; the more his body recovered, the more his mind remembered, and in such detail that he was amazed he'd slept as long as he had, even with medication.

"Bobby..." Eames breathed out; her grip tightening slightly on his hand. "I'm just glad we got you back," she promised, and she closed her mind to the memories. "We can talk about that later."

The relieved look on his face told her it was the right move to make. "For now, let's just concentrate on recovery."


The interrogation was blessedly short. Eames, ever astute and rather well-motivated, had the guards writhing on the proverbial hook, before the AG's investigators took over the questioning. Eames was satisfied that no one involved was going to walk away unscathed and as she stood to retrieve her things, she glanced surreptitiously toward the double-mirror that allowed Bobby and Ross to witness the interrogation. Bobby had been released from the hospital only a few days before, and wouldn't be returning to work anytime soon. His body and mind needed time to heal, but he'd requested—almost insisted—on being present for this.

As she exited the interrogation room, the relief on her partner's face was evident, as well as in his thoughts. Thank God that's over with, he thought unashamedly, and she nodded agreement.

"Well, their confessions along with your testimony should put them away for a long, long time," Ross remarked, instinctively understanding Goren's feelings. "And now, you go home," he said, firmly, pointing at Goren, before glancing at Eames, adding, "you drive."

"Goren, don't forget… meeting with the Chief of D's, his office, tomorrow morning. Your report and actions are the focus. I'll be there and do what I can Detective, but it's not going to be pretty."

"I… I understand Captain." Goren replied softly. "I still feel I had no other choice."

Eames stepped between the two men cupped a hand around Bobby's elbow, expertly steering him past the Captain and into the hallway.

Ross turned to follow Goren and Eames' progress. I hope you still feel that way after tomorrow.


"Hey!" Bobby exclaimed as Eames nudged him through the doorway. I'm not four, you know.

"I know, you're a big boy now…" Eames answered with a smile. "But you are on medical leave for the time being so...that means you get to listen to me for a change."

Like that's gonna happen, giving her a wise look. But for all that, he had to admit he didn't mind the idea of going home, dropping dead on the couch and sleeping for a week. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, before ducking his head a little and dropping his voice. "Thanks," he said quietly, which earned him a curious look from Eames.

"For...?" she prompted a moment later.

"For taking this whole partner thing seriously," Bobby continued, and smiled briefly. "You never gave up on me, and...Maybe it's just a phase, you know, a state of mind..." he teased a bit, "...but I really appreciate it. Thanks for coming after me."

Eames paused in mid-step, and looked up into hazel eyes that were looking back at her.

"You're welcome," she said warily, before giving Bobby Gorena grin. "Besides, do you know how rough it would be, having to break someone new into the routine? Once was trouble enough!" With that, she reached over to deliver a slight swat on the shoulder. "Now let's get out of here before I decide not to treat you to lunch at Mariano's."

"I think that's the best invitation I've had in days."