"Good work, Detectives," praised Danny Ross, arms folded across his chest as he watched the partners drag themselves out of the interrogation room.

They paused before him, watching in silence as the flailing woman attempted to escape from the two hulking officers flanking her. Eames sighed and shook her head, before turning to her quiet partner, Goren.

"Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt." She looked up at him, wincing at the bruise forming underneath his left eye.

"I'm fine," he murmured, scratching casually at the scruffy hair on his chin. Raising both eyebrows, he turned towards his captain expectantly.

Rolling his green eyes dramatically, Ross looked at his watch and sighed. "All right, you two did well. The paperwork can wait till tomorrow. Take the day," he waved a hand over his shoulder as he began walking towards his office.

"Great…what now?" Eames looked over at Goren, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, she faltered. "Are you okay?"

Blinking rapidly, as though coming out of a dreamlike state, he nodded. "Uh, yes. I'm, I'm fine, sorry."

Furrowing her brow, she attempted to catch his eye. "You need a ride home?"

Goren shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, "No thanks." He started down towards his desk, tossing his binder on top of the scattered papers already adorning it. Eames frowned at his retreating back. She understood that the year had been very tough on him, but she missed the younger, happier Bobby.

"I'm being selfish," she muttered, following behind the larger man.

"Did you…say something?" he asked, his voice soft and curious. Eames shook her head and closed her eyes. She looked up, nearly startled, when she felt the presence of Goren directly in front of her, invading her space.

"When you do that to criminals, I accept it, but to me? No way, buddy." She gently placed a hand on his chest and pushed herself away with a small smile.

"I was just…making sure you're all right. Are you? All right?" although he wasn't as close as he was a few seconds before, she could feel his silent intensity from where he stood.

"Yeah, sure." Grabbing her coat from the back of her chair, she held up her keys and called out, "You sure you don't need a ride?"

"Yes," he waved a hand in the air and offered her a half smile for reassurance, "I'm sure. But, thank you."

Eames nodded and began to leave the squad room. She sighed when she looked over her shoulder to see him standing by his desk forlornly, gingerly touching the corner of a piece of paper. So utterly alone, in the midst of so many people…"What a heartbreaker."

Not long after leaving the Major Case squad room, Goren found himself ambling down the sidewalk aimlessly. Head down, hands shoved into his pockets, he seemed to disappear in the crowded streets, despite his impressive height. At the ringing of his cell, he pulled it out and glanced down at the caller. Eames. Pocketing the phone he sighed.

Arriving at his home, having opted for a cab an hour after walking, he looked up the stairs to his door and heaved a sigh. Nearly dragging his feet, he raked a hand through his nearly silver hair before pulling up short when an excited voice called out his name. Looking up wearily, he made an inarticulate grunt of surprise when his nephew stepped away from the steps leading into his apartment.

"Bobby, where you been? I've been waiting all day, you know? And-and the whether isn't good for her…it's not, Bobby, it's not. You know?" Bobby was stunned into silence when Donny began rambling under his breath, clutching a sleeping child in an air of inexperience. His pacing jerked Bobby from his dazed stupor, and before either of them knew what was happening, Bobby had grabbed Donny and herded him up the stairs forcefully.

Slamming the front door shut, and making sure it was securely locked, Bobby began jerking curtains closed. Risking a peek from behind one to the streets outside, his rapid breath fogging the window, he whirled around red faced.

"What are- Jesus! What-I, How? Why are you-" he attempted to catch his breath as he failed to find enough words to form a coherent sentence. His arms were aching from the way he threw them about, his fingers working in a failing attempt to not make a fist and hit the young man before him.

Donny watched his uncle's erratic pacing, an amused expression clouding his haggard face. He looked down at the little girl he cradled uncomfortably in his arms, unsure as to how to hold her. Looking back up, he was slightly startled to see the undisguised anger in Bobby's smoldering dark eyes.

"You..." Bobby's movements were jerking as he pointed an accusing forefinger at Donny. "You…son of bitch," his voice was hoarse, his eyes red rimmed. "You stupid son of bitch, Donny…what the hell-what the hell are you doing here?" His voice raised an octave, causing the toddler to stir with a whimper in Donny's arms.

Donny's nose, the same nose Bobby had, the same nose the sleeping child had, crinkled in his confusion. "What are you talking about Bobby? I can't find Frank; do you know where he is? I need help with Valentina…I need his help, and he's not answering his door…why isn't he answering his door, Bobby? I need his help."

Taken aback, Bobby's arms dropped to his side as he watched his nephew ramble on, his face contorting to a horrified expression. Cocking his head to the side, he felt his bottom lip quivered, and he held a fisted hand to his mouth quell it. "Donny…" he swallowed thickly and removed the hand from his mouth. Taking a tentative step forward, hands out with the palms up, he shook his head.

"Donny, Frank is-is dead." Donny began shaking his head immediately, "Donny, you gotta listen to me," he was within arms reach of the younger man now, his voice pleading and pathetic. "He's-he's dead. He's been dead-"
"No!" he cried out, tears lining his eyes. "No! You're lying…you're lying! You're just saying that so-so he doesn't have to help me…he's here isn't he? He's hiding, he doesn't want to see me, or-or his granddaughter…he's hiding from me!" His voice was cracking as he cried out angrily. "You're lying!"

Once more stunned in a short amount of time, Bobby took a step back. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, his face scrunched up as if he were fighting off tears. "No…no, no…" he found himself moaning, pressing his hand against his mouth. "She's not…" he felt sick to his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. Bobby motioned at the child with his free hand, nearly stumbling when his legs hit the table behind him. "She's not yours…" his tone was unsure, but it held a question.

"Yeah, yeah," Donny was suddenly excited again. Holding up the little girl unsteadily for Bobby to see, he grinned. "Valentina Abrielle Carlson. That's her name, do you like her name?" He cradled the whimpering toddler, who had yet to open her eyes, and tapped her nose as he cooed unintelligibly down at her. "She's uh," he squinted his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember her age, "She's two, or something." Laughing he rolled his eyes, "I don't know, but it's close."

Bobby nearly vomited at how carefree Donny was acting. Urging his roiling stomach to settle, and licking his dry lips repeatedly, Bobby stepped forward once more. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Instead, he opted to study the profile of his nephew. Donny still had the shaggy brown hair he had least seen him with, and a wispy beard hung off his thinner face. Dirt streaked his cheeks, and everything about him seemed to scream filthy. He wore a baggy pair of gray sweats, both the sweatshirt and pants dark with mud and other unidentifiable elements.

Unable to focus on the pacing image of his nephew any longer, he attempted to peek at Valentina in his arms. The girl's name was much too big for such a small child, and Goren shook his head in semi-awe. She took after the Goren's more than whoever mothered her, with her dark curly hair and now very wide, light brown eyes. Her skin was pale, as if she had been sheltered from the sun her entire life, but her cheeks were nearly red in their pinkness. The nose he already noted looked like his own, and the lips were also his own full, pink and pouty ones.

The ringing of his cell made him flinch. He nearly pocketed as soon as he saw her name. Eames. Hoping that she wasn't calling because of an emergency, he tossed the phone onto the nearest table. Minutes later, it vibrated from a text message. Unable to speak to her right now, he ignored it again.

"Son of a…" he murmured, blinking slowly as though his lashes were weighed down with lead. "What am I-" he broke off and looked up sharply. Speaking louder, he repeated, "What-what am I going to do?" When Donny looked up at his questioningly, he fought the urge once more to throttle him. "Huh?" he jabbed a finger in his face, "Why are you here?" he was becoming very angry, very quickly. Uncaring that he was beginning to make Valentina cry, he invaded Donny's personal space and drew himself up to his full height. "What do you want, Donny? Huh? What else could you possibly want from me?"

Before Donny could answer, Bobby released an angry snarl and banked to the right, slamming his left hand into the wall hard. Shaking his throbbing hand, and glad that he didn't release that anger on Donny while he was holding Valentina, he resumed his stance. "Do you know what I went through? Do you?" his voice was breaking and becoming hysterical. He moved his face quickly, to match Donny's frantic movements, unwillingly to break eye contact if he achieved it.

"I went through hell! For you! You-you-" cursing, he whirled around and nearly threw himself onto the couch. "I could have you arrested…you know that? I can call the police right now…and they'd throw you back in jail. Now," looking up at Donny, he cocked his head to the side. "Give me one good reason, Donny, one damn good reason why I should risk my life to help you again." His nose flared, but his voice remained steady, "I'm-I'm assuming you want help…that's what you wanted from Frank, isn't it? Help." The word was beginning to taste like acid in his mouth.

Donny had remained uncharacteristically quiet, jostling Valentina up and down in an effort to calm her. The ear splitting crying jerked Bobby from his angry haze, and he suddenly looked as though he had aged thirty years in the span of a minute. Standing up slowly, in order to not startle the younger man, he held out his arms. Without a word, Donny placed Valentina into his outstretched arms and watched as the large man placed the toddler over his shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Bobby began rubbing Valentina's back, allowing her to nuzzle his neck as he swayed back and forth. Her crying subsided to hiccupping whimpers, until her soft breath steadied, interrupted by a small hiccup every so often. Casting the fidgeting Donny a dark look, Goren made his way to his bedroom and gently placed Valentina in his large bed. Setting up the pillows so that she couldn't fall off the mattress in her sleep, he watched her for a second, before attempting to make his way back without awakening her with his thundering footsteps.

"Bobby-" Donny began, only to be silenced when Bobby held up a hand. He looked down at his clasped hands, and scratched at his chin.

"Don't," he flared his nose and shook his head, "Just don't- don't talk." He began pacing, looking up every now and then to study the restless man before him. "You're bipolar."

Looking up sharply, Donny shrugged and opened his mouth to speak. A look from Bobby told him not to say anything. So Bobby continued.

"You're bipolar, and you didn't take your meds…you haven't been taking your medicine for two years…do you know," he took a deep breath, speaking more to himself than Donny. "Do you know that-that untreated bipolorism can lead to, uh, schizophrenic-like symptoms?" Heaving a sigh, Bobby threw a hand into the air and kicked at the wood paneled floor. "What am I going to do…?"

Unsure whether or not he could stand another large attack, so soon after the death of Nicole, Frank, his mother and the arrest of his mentor, he closed his eyes tightly. His cell phone rang once more. Striding over to the table, without giving it a glance, he threw the phone as hard as he could towards a wall. He watched as it broke into pieces, and hung his head in shame. A shrill cry came from his bedroom soon after.

Trouble…
Oh trouble set me free …
I have seen your face …
And it's too much too much for me…

TBC...

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