Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: CI and I am not making any money on this story.

Author's Note: First, this is not the sequel to "Sins of the Father" so don't look for Grace in here. ;-)

Second, I really don't know if Europe has bounty hunters but for the sake of my story, let's say they do.

And third, "Schuldig" means "guilty" in German.

Schuldig

Chapter One:

Robert Goren

Once Upon a Time in Germany

I fell in love with a German woman. It doesn't seem to matter that it was fifteen years ago and I haven't seen her since. Whenever she rises above the complex criminal thoughts that I allow to form in my own mind for the sake of a case, I feel like I did back in Germany. I turn into that twenty-six year old, scuffing his army boot in the rich farm soil of an unimportant rural village. Unimportant to the German government, the United States Army and everyone else in the world, but it had become a turning point in my life.

"What are you smiling at?"

Immediately I relax my face muscles and hope that Eames doesn't notice the blush that I feel creep across my cheeks. Judging from her smile, she does. I wave my hand, trying to dismiss her question. It seems to work somewhat.

"Fine, be secretive. Are you done?"

"Thinking?"

She gives me that smile that lets me know I'm in trouble. "Paperwork, Bobby. Are you done with your paperwork?"

I could lie and say "Yes, Alex, I'm done," but she sees the pile of paper still sitting on my side of the desk without the protection of folders. So, I opt for the simple truth.

"No," I say and pull the top form towards me, directing my entire attention on the paper and try to ignore the smug smirk and knowing head shake that my five-year partner is giving me. As I fill in the blanks on the form, my mind still wanders back to Germany. My only guess as to why Germany has entered my mind so much in the past twenty-four hours is due to the fresh snowfall that blanketed the city last night. The glinting covering that rests on skyscraper and field alike always dredges up my memories of Julia Bauer and her family's farm. My fingers go numb at the remembrance of helping Julia with the barn work when I was stationed at that farm.

World War II had ended forty-two years before I was stepped foot on German soil but the ideals of Hitler were still engrained in some of the people. The US had received word of a growing underground sect that was persecuting those not of the Aryan race in a small farming community. I was part of a ten man unit sent to investigate and arrest the leaders of this group in hopes to keep the group of growing larger and reaching across Germany. Some of the locals were trained and partnered with us. Julia was partnered with me.

"Bobby," Eames' exasperated voice jars my thoughts once more. My pen has apparently gone missing from my hand. Eames is holding it in front of my face. "Work now. Day dream later."

I must have been tapping my pen against the desk. A common occurrence whenever I get lost in my thoughts. This isn't the first time my writing instrument has been taken away. Promising to get some work done, I retrieve my pen and concentrate on the form once more. Thoughts of Julia, Germany and farms drift in and out of my thoughts as I fill out form after form.

A sigh across from me draws me out of "sign here" and "date" here. Eames is closing her last file and rubbing the back of her neck. I look at my watch and notice that two hours have passed. Thankfully, it looks like I'm nearing the end of my paperwork as well.

"Going home?" I ask.

She covers her mouth and tries to stifle a yawn.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Eames laughs tiredly. "You don't have much left, do you?"

I shake my head. "Five more minutes. I'll drop off your files to Deakins if you want."

"Sounds good."

"Goren. Eames."

I tried to ignore the frustration in Eames posture. Deakins was standing in his doorway, a mix of annoyance and possible hope. That usually only meant one thing. There was a new case. I fall into step behind Eames, close enough to hear her muttering under her breath.

"I was so close to being out of here."

I saw Deakins mouth "sorry" to her as we entered the office. I guess I wasn't the only one close enough to hear her. I was slightly surprised to see someone else in Deakins' office. It wasn't totally out of the ordinary but it was strange given the evening hour. The visitor, a woman, was leaning on the desk against the back wall, an attempt to go unnoticed. She was tall, but I couldn't determine how due to her relaxed posture. She had short, spiky blonde hair, very thin frame and was dressed in black pants and a bright blue blouse.

Then she looked up. Her eyes briefly flicked over Eames and Deakins before coming to me. The hair may be different, the dress style more expensive but the eyes had remained the same, that cryptic blue-green. Deakins broke the silence which broke the eye contact. I felt numb.

"This is Miss Julia Bauer from the London office of International Bounty Hunters. Apparently, Australia wants it's most notable fugitive back."

Eames sighed audible with frustration. "Nicole Wallace?"

Deakins nodded. "Miss Bauer here has been a European fugitive chaser for thirteen years. Her record is almost as good as yours."

"Bounty hunting?" I finally found my voice and was almost ashamed at the stupidity of the question.

She finally spoke and I was surprised at the lack of accent. "Your captain more correctly described my job as fugitive chasing."

"Why the interest in Wallace all of sudden?" Eames asked. At least one of us still had our wits about us. I still couldn't tear my eyes away from Julia. Apparently, she didn't feel the same way as she kept glancing between Eames, Deakins and the floor. I shoved my hands in my pockets because I couldn't find anything else to do with them. Consciously, I planted my feet to the ground and willed myself to be still. My mind had kicked into overdrive as I tried to follow the current conversation and organize fifteen years of questions into a sensible list. Fifteen years. It seemed more than a lifetime ago.

"Apparently," Deakins was saying, "the Australian government just got wind of the murders Wallace committed here and then got off on technicalities in our courts. They think they might do better."

"The Hitchens family in Australia just moved back into the social limelight and are using their pull to find, capture and punish Wallace," Julia had added quietly from her corner of the room. "Apparently my boss is good friends with George Hitchens, the widower."

"Miss Bauer will need all the information you can give her on our dealings with Wallace."

I noticed Julia straighten to her full height. "But that can wait till tomorrow morning. I'm sure your detectives were headed home very soon."

"Tomorrow morning would be great," Eames had said and Julia proceeded to sling a computer bag over her shoulder, a coat over her arm and promptly leave the office. She never even looked in my direction as she passed. I had to be honest with myself. Fifteen years changes a person. And the woman that had showed up at One Police Plaza, Eleven Floor, Major Case Squad was not the German farm girl I knew.

I fell in love with a German woman but I fear that woman is no more.