The main characters in this story belong to Dick Wolf and the wonderful world of Law & Order.

As this story is slowly spawned, it is important to note that CI recently aired its final episode. And yes, I have strong feelings about this show not being renewed.

This story is rated M for disturbing crime scenes, explicit language and sexual content.

In addition, this story begins where episode 8, season 10 left off and is not in any way related to a trilogy I wrote about dreams and nightmares.

When I first ventured into CI, I did not believe that Goren and Eames were meant to be shipped, nor did I believe that the characters were ever intimate during the show. With that being said, I've come to believe that post season ten - shipping is where the show and writers decided to take it. So, yes - I am now a believer. And so it goes . . .

Chapter 1

Traveling southbound down Broadway on route to the Federal Reserve Bank, Robert O. Goren knew the odds of taking a case off the hands of the Feds; his partner knew them too.

The Feds always had first dibs when it came to violent crimes and any major theft that occurred within the confines of a national bank or any local bank of the Federal Reserve for that matter. And although it was unsaid that they'd work alongside local law enforcement, uh, well, it depended on politics, the notoriety associated with the act on hand and pure luck.

Leaving the office of Dr. Paula Gyson, Goren roughly calculated that they could be to the crime scene in about ten minutes flat. That being said, the mind can cover quite a bit of ground in ten minutes, or rather, six-hundred seconds.

Right now, I think the job is vital to you.

Sweat began to bead off of his forehead as he powered his passenger-side window down. The humidity that had been slowly building on the clear June day increased his desire to peel off his sports jacket. In the end, his regimented personality overruled his need to cool-down. It came down to the knowledge that he'd soon be posturing with the Feds, and truth be told, Goren was already starting to feel naked without an undershirt, dress-shirt, tie and tie-clip. Given the mental sparring he'd undergone in his latest session with Dr. Gyson, he could only wonder about this somewhat irrational desire to look and feel professional at this very moment.

The job gives you structure . . .

And at this point, a headache – I mean after he'd left Gyson's appointment, she was standing there.

Eames.

It's a lie, but it's the one you've chosen to believe.

Eames was, you know, like a goddamned patron saint, waiting patiently for him, framed between the black police-issue SUV and an a young maple tree. Soft brown hair, angelic little hope-filled eyes, even her stance was fucking classic – as if she had been ripped right out of the Italian Renaissance painting.

And seeing her like that was the straw that broke the camel's back. And suddenly, it was like it all came together for him, a moment of lucidity - which was strange really, because he'd known it all along.

So, within a split-second, all of those years he'd spent lying to himself about how he felt about her suddenly came crashing down.

Alex.

How'd it go?

And it was all about the relief that flooded into her eyes after he relayed that everything had worked out just fine. Her warm expression conveyed and confirmed everything he knew to be true. She cared. She authentically gave a damn about him, always had you know? Loyal to the fucking bone.

True love? We all want to believe.

And no one wanted to believe more than he did.

I-I want to believe. Make me believe.

But moments after they stood looking at one another locked in an awkward silence, mere seconds after she climbed into the driver's side and closed the door, he could tell that she'd read the hesitation on his face.

And what could he have possibly said to her? He loved her - loved her dearly.

The job was vital to him? Eames was vital to him.

Eames.

Eames gave him structure.

Eames gave him a sense of purpose.

But even Goren understood that he was not ready to commence with a relationship. Gyson had said as much: there was the anger management and trust issues. In fact, Gyson and he hadn't even ironed out whether a man like himself could have what other people had: a house, a relationship. Gyson had glossed over any specific treatment or prescription. Although he recalled something generic about putting in the work and time, not to mention continued fucking sessions . . .

… there's no way you can trust your own judgment

Well, one thing was for certain, he was not going to fuck it all up with Eames. And there was no room for error on this one. Like it or not, he would need help, guidance and direction.

And as Eames put the police issue Explorer into park, one thing was clear: they'd beat the Feds to the scene. What was less clear, as they shuffled up the steps to the main doors, lifting the crime scene tape for her to duck under, was if he could finally get what he wanted and not fuck it up entirely.

TBC