Alex POV

Monday morning, we both called in sick. Separately of course, but still…Ross was mad as hell. But I couldn't bring myself to care. We needed a day to rest, and I figured he would get over it.

On Tuesday, I put down my things on my desk and headed for his office first thing. I had drawn the short straw, so to speak. Actually, I had lost a bet. Bobby had said that he could get me to beg. I said he would never, ever, get me to beg for anything. Alex Eames does not beg.

Turns out I was wrong. I still think it was cheating, using that ice cube, but since we hadn't specifically forbidden the use of props, I decided I would take my loss like a grown-up.

It was kind of ironic that I lost a sexual bet and therefore had to tell our boss that we were no longer dating. As I knocked on his door, I threw that thought out of my head. Otherwise I was going to start smirking.

"What can I do for you, Detective?" he asked when I entered his office. He was looking through a file and only half-way paying attention to me.

"I wanted to discuss something of a…um…personal nature." There. Now I had his full attention.

"Yes?"

"I appreciate your…discretion when my partner and I wanted to try out the possibility of…exploring a relationship outside of work. But we have decided that we will no longer be dating." I hated that terminology – dating. It made me feel like a teenager. But, I needed to use that exact wording to keep from lying. I didn't want to lie. I just wanted to…lead him in the incorrect direction.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm just saying that you don't need to worry about don't ask, don't tell."

That wasn't a lie, was it? He didn't need to worry about it. He wouldn't be asking, and we wouldn't be telling – no worries.

"Oh. Well. Okay," he said finally. "You still want to be partners?"

"Yes sir. We're fine. There's no need to make a big deal out of it. We're adults. He's still my best friend," I added because I didn't want him to think we wouldn't be still hanging out together sometimes.

"Okay then. Thank you for letting me know."

"No problem. I'm going to…um…get back to it."

I went back to my desk and sat down. I could feel Bobby looking at me.

"It's done?"

"Yeah."

"Did he buy it?"

"I think so. But you have to quit looking so…sexually satisfied," I told him in a low voice. He flashed a quick grin at me and went back to his paperwork. I stifled a smile myself and followed his lead.

We did desk work for three days before we got a call. It was five o'clock on Friday morning.

"Eames," I said sleepily into my cell phone.

"I need you and your partner out at Central Park Zoo."

"It's a little early to be looking at animals," I cracked. It was tough talking to the boss man when I was still in bed with my partner's warm body wrapped around me.

"It's not too early for murder, apparently. There's a body at the ticket booth next to the main entrance."

"Do we have an i.d. on the vic?"

"Not yet. But being dumped so publicly has brought out the media," he said. The city big-wigs always hated it when a tourist attraction was sullied by dead bodies.

"Yes sir. I'll be there as fast as I can."

"Do you want me to call your partner?" Huh? Since when did he offer to make two calls?

"No, it's fine. I'll get in touch with him." I hung up before any further discussion could develop. Ross was concerned about me? I almost felt bad for leading him astray. Almost.

"Bobby," I whispered, amazed that he had slept through my conversation. I rolled toward him and rubbed my hands over his face.

"Hmm…"

"We got a call. We have to get up."

"I don't want to," he said petulantly.

"Since when do you not want to go work a case?"

"Since I have much better things to explore right here in bed with me," he rumbled, his hands roaming freely over me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it for a few seconds, but then I forced myself up.

"Come on. It's at the zoo. Just think of all the smells."

Forty-five minutes later, I stood over the body of a young, pretty woman who had been beaten to death.

"This is exactly how you found her?" I asked the beat cop who stood several yards away from the body. He was young and looked like he was going to be sick.

"Yes ma'am. I touched her neck to feel for a pulse." He visibly shuddered at the memory of touching the dead girl.

"No one else has touched her?"

"No ma'am. I kept the area clear and called it in."

"Good job, Reynolds," I told him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. I turned and walked over to Bobby, who was crouched down over the body.

"Anything interesting?" I asked him.

"Looks like she was hit with a blunt object of some sort. Several times. You smell that?" I couldn't stop the smirk. He always smelled something. I humored him with a quick sniff.

"Perfume?"

"It's Eastern European. If it's what I think it is, they don't sell it in the States. She looks like she could be…what – Polish? Czech?"

"Maybe, yeah. Nice clothes," I commented, and then I leaned in closer. "Knock-offs, though. And she's well-groomed. Nails, hair, make-up."

"No purse. No pockets."

I stood back up and called to Officer Reynolds.

"Did you search the area for her purse?" He paled slightly, so I took that as a no.

"It's okay. Do it now. Look around and in any nearby trash cans and dumpsters."

"Yes ma'am," he replied.

"Ma'am?" Bobby teased when I squatted back next to him.

"Shut up."

"Detectives, there's no need for bickering." I looked up and saw Rodgers approach. I gave her a smile.

"Haven't seen you in awhile," Bobby said, getting to his feet.

"The dead hooker, I think," she replied, referring to our councilman case from a couple weeks ago. "Who do we have now?"

"No i.d. Can you give us a rough TOD?"

Rodgers got down next to the body and opened her bag. She did a quick preliminary exam, periodically shoving Bobby out of the way when he got too close.

"She's been dead about two to four hours. That would put the TOD at some time between two and four a.m."

"Blunt force trauma?" I clarified.

"Unless someone poisoned her first," she said wryly as she stood up. "I can get her on the table later this morning. I'll call you."

We turned to leave, but Liz put her hand on my arm.

"How are you, Detective?" she asked meaningfully. Oh my God. Ross had told her. How unprofessional. Of course, she was his wife, but still…

"I'm fine. Really. Thanks." She held my gaze for another minute and then gave me a nod.

"Okay. Good. I'll give you a call when I finish up."

"Call when you're ready to start. We'll keep you company," Bobby said with a grin. He had trouble resisting the morgue, especially when the case was just getting started and we had nothing else to go on. Until we knew something, he would be chomping at the bit to procure some evidence.

We left Rodgers and went to find Officer Reynolds. He had found quite an interesting array of items in a nearby trashcan, but none of them seemed related to our victim.

"Keep looking," I told him. "Give me a call if you come up with anything."

We headed back to the SUV.

"What was that thing with Liz?" Bobby asked when we were inside the vehicle.

"I guess Ross told her we broke up. She seemed to be concerned for my well-being."

"So was Ross. How come no one's asked me if I'm okay?"

"I guess they all figure you broke my heart, rather than the other way around," I told him with a shrug.

I reached up to turn the key in the ignition, but he put his hand on my arm, stopping the motion.

"I will never break your heart. I promise."

"I know that," I replied, feeling that tingling sensation that always came around when Bobby put his hands on me. Or talked to me in that serious tone. Or really, when he even looked at me a certain way. He could most definitely break my heart because he held it, completely in his hands, but I knew he never would.

He watched me another moment, probably assuring himself that I truly did believe him, and then he sat back in the seat.

We headed back to 1PP after a quick stop for coffee.

"Have you talked to Mike this week?" I asked Bobby as I parked the SUV.

"Yesterday, for a minute. He gave his notice to Deakins. He's going to start working with Carolyn in another week."

"How do you think that'll work out?"

"I think if she hasn't killed him by now, they'll be just fine," he said with a laugh.

"You mean like us?" I teased.

"Exactly like us."

Three hours later, Rodgers called.

"Come on down, Detectives," she told me. "I'm getting ready to get started on your Jane Doe."

We grabbed our coats and headed for the morgue. We had absolutely nothing to go on so far, so I was really hoping that Rodgers could pull some evidence off the body.

"That was fast," she commented as we burst into the room.

"Well, we don't have anything else. So give us something. Our boss is breathing down our necks over this."

"He did mention something about getting a couple of calls from the mayor already," she told us. I could appreciate that she needed to stand up for her husband. I just couldn't figure out what had brought those two together in the first place.

"First off, I ran her prints," she continued. "Nothing. I bagged her clothes, and the techs are going through them, but nothing jumped out at me."

"Tox screen?" Bobby asked.

"Of course," she replied pointedly. "Blood alcohol level was point-oh-six. And she had a low level of benzodiazepine in her system, as well as lysergic acid diethylamide."

"LSD?" I asked. It wasn't a popular drug of choice anymore. We ran into a lot of ketamine, ecstasy or good old-fashioned crack more than anything else.

"That's right. The amount was negligible, but she used it at some point within the twenty-four hours prior to her death. Same as with the benzo."

The girl didn't look like an addict. She definitely wasn't a needle user, and her teeth were still good.

"She also has a tattoo," Rodgers told us with a grin. Now we're getting somewhere. She pulled the sheet back to show us the girl's hip bone. In tiny script writing was a word: Powodzenia.

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

"I'm not even sure what language it is," Liz admitted.

"I think it's Eastern European. Polish maybe."

"Let me guess," Rodgers said. "You speak Polish."

"No, actually. It's one I never picked up. But I've seen it written."

I opened up my phone and punched in Carolyn's number.

"Barek."

"Hey, it's Eames," I said, easily establishing that it was a work call. "I'm looking at a tattoo on a girl. I think it's a Polish word."

"Spell it." I spelled it out for her, and she replied immediately. "Yeah, it's Polish. It means good luck."

"Good luck," I repeated to Liz and Bobby.

"Or in this case…"

"Eames, this is on a dead girl?" Carolyn asked me.

"Yeah, why?"

"I just got a new case yesterday. A missing Polish girl."

"You got a name?"

"Daiya Pawlak. Her mom says she's been missing for three weeks. The detectives are writing her off as a runaway."

"I don't know. This girl looks healthy. Or she did until someone beat her to death. We're at the morgue now."

"I'm on my way."

TBC...