Summary:A UN worker disappears after an attack in his home. Bobby Goren's POV.
Setting:
Disclaimer: The Law & Order characters are owned by Dick Wolf. No infringement of rights is intended. This story is written for entertainment purposes only.
She said yes. Bobby hadn't thought Eames would agree to go out dancing, especially since he practically apologized for asking before she had a chance to reply. She would hardly look at him, so he braced himself for a kind, firm No - but then she said yes.
He hadn't played fair. When he asked they were in an airplane, somewhere over New Jersey, with her in the window seat. She had no escape. Of course, he knew Eames wouldn't have any problem turning him down if she wasn't interested... so that must mean she was interested. She said yes.
They'd never discussed it, but Bobby knew she was leery of a dating relationship with her partner. He understood the risks, too. They were close; they were friends; they were best friends; but they'd both held back from a more intimate level. As reserved as he was about his personal life, Eames was more. On the job they'd found the secret of success in their partnership - although it had been stretched to the limit during his suspension and the aftermath. But even with their continued good solve rate, lately he'd felt they needed relief from the stress of the job - time together when they could relax. An evening of dancing would be perfect. When he promised it was for fun, it was as though a light went on in her eyes. He felt a surge of happiness to know she wanted the same thing he did.
She said yes – but also made it clear that they needed to discuss it further. He'd expected that, and agreed instantly. He would accept nearly any terms, as long as she didn't change her answer.
They finished their police business after landing at JFK Airport – delivering their prisoner to an Assistant District Attorney for arraignment – and were seated in a booth at a diner, waiting to place their orders, when Eames brought it up again. Bobby's heart was thumping with excitement, though he tried to keep his expression calm. He was pretty sure Eames was in the same state, since she wouldn't meet his eye for more than a second.
"So…" she said, spooning the ice out of her water glass into his, "I don't want one of those trendy dance clubs packed with anorexic twenty-somethings."
"It's nothing like that," Bobby said, sliding his glass closer to hers. He'd anticipated this requirement.
"It's not swing dancing, is it? I couldn't -"
"You'll like this place, I promise."
She glanced at him as she sipped her water. "Mmm." Clearly that had only been the first item on her list. "Any danger of a police raid?"
"No." Bobby winked. "We've had enough of those." He was gaining confidence that he could answer her concerns.
She waited until the waitress had taken their orders before bringing up her next point. "You can't call me Eames if we go out together," she said.
"Uh, what?" He stared at her blankly. Of all the conditions she might impose, this had never crossed his mind.
"I'm serious – can you get used to saying Alex?"
Bobby scratched his neck. That was a problem? "I call you Alex sometimes."
"Yeah, maybe six times in all the years we've worked together," she said with a smirk.
If that's what was important to her… "Okay, I'll work on it. Alex."
That earned him a big grin. "And here I thought you were too set in your ways!"
Instead of continuing, she shook out the napkin and began polishing her silverware. He couldn't make himself sit still as he waited for her to get to her next issue. He took slow breaths – but it didn't stop his restless motion. Finally he couldn't hold out any longer. "So, is - is this Friday okay for you?"
She ignored his question. "I think we should go Dutch."
Dutch. His pleasant feeling of anticipation evaporated. "Not a good idea," he said quietly.
"No, listen," she said, setting down the fork. "It is a good idea - for us, for this date."
Bobby reminded himself: she said yes. He clasped his hands together on the table and looked into her eyes. "Why can't it just be a normal date?"
She shook her hair back from her face. "Maybe because we're not a normal couple? Look, whatever happens with this date, I don't want to mess up our partnership, you know?"
"Yeah." That same fear had kept him from asking a long time ago.
"If it, umm, doesn't turn out the way we want," she said, arching her eyebrows, "then going Dutch will take the pressure off both of us."
He frowned – she was backing away and they hadn't even gone out yet. "You mean we can fool ourselves that it wasn't really a date."
"No, I mean…" She sighed loudly. "Bobby, we're way past first date stuff. We've known each other too long for that."
"It is a first date."
"I know. But for us it's more like another step – a really tricky step. On a normal first date, if things crash and burn you never have to see the other person again. But we have to show up the next day at Major Case."
It was a good point, but her approach was pessimistic. "And you think splitting the bill will avoid that?"
"Yes, I do. At least it'll make me feel better."
Bobby looked up at the ceiling as he slumped back against the cushion of the booth. Her idea wasn't unreasonable, and he knew he had to give in, but he didn't like planning for failure. She was making this more complicated than it needed to be. He wanted to take her out without fussing over tabs and tips. The return of the waitress with their food gave him extra time to think.
Once they were alone again Bobby asked, "And what if we somehow manage to have a good time?"
Her grin brought back the happy fluttering in his stomach. "Then," she said, "we can try a real date, like normal people." She snatched a couple fries from his plate.
Bobby was feeling hopeful again, but he knew Eames wasn't through yet. Maybe he could shortcut her list. "I'll pick you up around seven," he said, "if that works for you?"
"Wouldn't it be easier if I met you there?" she said. "You said this club was in Brooklyn – why come all the way out to Queens for me?"
She didn't sound determined about driving, so he knew it wasn't worth arguing that point right now. Her reply assumed they were indeed going out this Friday – that was the important thing. This was really going to happen.
"Why are you smiling like that?" she asked, leaning forward to steal another french fry.
He shrugged. "We're going out dancing."
"I can't decide if I feel eager or nervous about it."
"Me, too. Both, I guess."
"At least we only have to wait three days," she said. Eames focused her attention on dividing her spinach pie into two equal parts. She usually took home half of her dinner in a styrofoam container; Bobby found it amusing that she also usually felt the need to help him finish his plate. He was pulling toothpicks out of his club sandwich when she asked, "Your knee - is it bothering you?"
"No," he said. She looked like she didn't believe him, so he leaned forward. "It's fine, Alex." She smiled at his use of her name and even laughed when he added, "Besides, we're not swing dancing."
Bobby looked up as a stack of file folders landed loudly on his partner's desk. "I should have known this would happen," Eames said, dropping into her chair. "Friday morning; a date tonight…" She stared at Bobby fiercely, as though daring him to react in any way. "It's practically the weekend – and we catch a new case."
A man who worked at the UN as a translator had disappeared from his Upper East Side apartment, leaving behind signs of a desperate, bloody struggle. His son, returning home from college classes late Thursday night, discovered the chaos and called 9-1-1.
Bobby had met Eames at the crime scene around midnight, and had spent hours scouring the apartment, building and neighborhood for information and clues. They'd caught a few hours of sleep in the crib space upstairs at One PP. Now, at eight o'clock Friday morning, they'd already been working for three hours and two cups of coffee – but had no leads on the missing man. The detectives were approaching this case as a kidnapping and possible homicide. The wife was away, visiting family in South Korea.
Bobby rose, selected some of the folders and slid back into his chair. "I'd offer to cover for you," he said softly, "but…"
"Thanks ever so much." Her glare softened, but she didn't smile. Her eyes shifted to a point behind Bobby, and he turned as Captain Ross came to a stop beside their desks.
"This kidnapping is the lead story on every news station this morning," Ross said. He held his briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Mr. Chun worked at the UN for fourteen years, and apparently has a spotless record. I've already had calls from the Commissioner and Mayor this morning." He shook his head. "What do we know so far?"
Bobby met Eames' glance, lifting his eyebrows slightly, silently asking her to begin. The captain had been irritable with him that week, and neither partner had been able to figure out why. Bobby hated having to tiptoe around him.
Eames showed no sign of her impatience as she said, "It's probably someone Mr. Chun knows: there was no forced entry or robbery. It looks like he was preparing a meal at the time. The weapon was a kitchen knife, left on the floor, but CSU couldn't get any clear prints. The lab said they'll rush the results on the blood to see if it's from more than one person."
"There's been no contact, no ransom demands?" Ross asked.
She shook her head. "Our techs set up recording equipment on the home line, but so far… nothing. He didn't turn up at any Manhattan hospitals, and we've been contacting hospitals in a wider circle."
"Did the neighbors see or hear anything?" the captain asked, looking back and forth between the partners. So far he seemed non-hostile.
"We interviewed some of them last night," Eames replied. "Mr. Chun was seen coming home around six o'clock, as usual for him. No one noticed a thing until the police arrived."
"It figures," Ross said with a grimace.
Bobby decided it was safe to speak. "The amount of blood indicates a serious wound, but there's no blood trail out of the apartment, except for a smudge in the elevator. It looks like the attacker took the time to bind up Mr. Chun's wounds. Some bathroom towels were missing, and the drawer with the first aid things had been rummaged." He looked from Eames to the captain. "This probably wasn't planned – maybe an argument that escalated. Mr. Chun might not have realized it was a kidnapping; he may have thought he was being taken to a hospital. He went along quietly, which is why no one heard anything."
"Hmm. Anything on the building's surveillance tapes?" Ross asked.
"It's not much help," Eames said. "We have the tape from the camera in the ground floor lobby. The building has a rear exit through the basement garage, but the camera down there is just a dummy. The Chuns' car is in their regular space."
"Is it possible he didn't leave the building?" Ross asked.
"The building was canvassed," Eames said. "No sign of him."
"Do you suspect the son?" Ross asked.
"No." Bobby shuffled through the notes in his binder. "Jae Chun has classes at Hunter College until eight on Thursdays. He told us he ate at a diner after class with his pre-med study group, and went back to the college library until nearly eleven."
"That checks out," Eames added. "We got a statement from the diner manager last night. The kids eat there regularly, and he remembers seeing Jae. He doesn't appear on the apartment's security tape until half past eleven."
Bobby said, "We requested the key card log from the library - it should be faxed here this morning."
"Okay, it looks like his alibi is solid," Ross said. "And the wife's out of the country. She's been gone – what – two weeks?" Both detectives nodded.
"She's due back tomorrow night," Bobby said.
"Interesting timing. Do we have any suspects at all?" Ross asked.
Eames replied, "Jae told us his father had complained about a coworker who'd been promoted above him. Mr. Chun felt he was the one who deserved the promotion. We'll be talking to his director at the UN." She glanced over to Bobby and then back to the captain. "Of course, none of them shows up for work before ten o'clock." Bobby knew she was annoyed at the delay – it increased their chance of having to work late.
Ross nodded. "All right, keep me posted," he said as he turned toward his office. "I have to update the Commissioner at two."
After the captain's door closed, Eames leaned her forearms on the desk and said, "Jae told us his father was translating for a conference yesterday, right?"
"Yes…" Bobby quickly scanned the son's statement. "It was an economic forum all day yesterday and the day before."
"We need to find out if that coworker was there, too." She checked her notes. "Mr. Haruka."
Bobby rubbed his jaw. "I wonder if there really was a conflict at work, or if Mr. Chun just…" He shrugged. "…just vented his disappointment at home. About the promotion."
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe he vented at work, too, and got Haruka ticked off enough to confront him. But we won't be able to find out until we actually talk to someone at the UN…" She tapped her pen, and Bobby knew she was seeing the hours of the day slip away. He didn't want to miss their date, either, but he felt comforted to know it was important to her.
"Eames." He leaned as far forward as he could. "It'll be all right," he said in a low voice. "If we have to postpone-"
"I know," she whispered. "Rain check." She quickly scanned the squad room, and Bobby did the same – no one was paying attention to them. Eames continued in a stronger voice, "Anyway, I'd rather not waste our time this morning waiting for the UN folks to turn up. Do you have the list of neighbors?"
"Yes… Here." Bobby held it out as he dragged his chair around to her desk. Eames snatched the paper with a smile, smoothed it out on her desktop, and rolled her seat a little to the side to make room for him. Bobby liked reading over her shoulder like this; they never touched, but each turned a little toward the other, and it felt like they'd blocked out the rest of the squad room.
"You know," Eames said with a quick glance at his face, "we probably have time to try some of these neighbors we missed last night. And we can talk to Jae again."
"We should also take another look at the apartment. You saw those boxes stacked in the corner of the dining room and both bedrooms?"
She nodded. "Mover's boxes. The neighbors have known the Chuns for years, so does that mean they're moving out?"
"Or maybe they use them for storage."
"I don't know – the boxes looked new." She leaned a tiny bit closer and dropped her voice. "So, you're growing your beard again?"
Bobby rubbed his four-day stubble. "Maybe." He wasn't sure he wanted a beard, but mornings had been rushed lately and he'd skipped shaving. If she complained about it, he'd shave for their date.
At that moment they both saw Ross vigorously signaling to them from inside his office. He had the phone against his ear and he looked annoyed. By the time they reached him, he'd hung up.
"You need to get to the Chun's apartment right away," he said. "Mrs. Chun is there now, making a huge scene about her husband being missing and about the telecom guy camped in her living room."
A wide-eyed Eames turned toward Bobby, then back to the captain. She ran fingers through her hair as she frowned. "She's back a day early?"
"Obviously someone got her flight info wrong," Ross said, looking pointedly at Bobby.
Bobby bristled, but kept his voice calm, turning his palms up. "Captain, the son showed us her itinerary –"
"-and the return flight was Saturday, October 24th." Eames finished his sentence. Bobby could tell she was also making an effort to stay composed. "We have the airline print-out, sir," she said, pointing toward their desks and moving slightly forward, drawing Ross' attention to herself.
Ross took a deep breath, then another, and finally said, "Okay, so she changed her flight. Just get over there and calm her down before she shows up on television."
Bobby started moving before the captain finished speaking, but even so, Eames was a couple steps ahead of him. They didn't say a word as they gathered their things and grabbed their coats.
There were others on the elevator as they headed down. Bobby knew Eames wanted him to look at her, but he kept his gaze on the panel of buttons. He welcomed her support, but when Ross' attacks came out of thin air like this, Bobby could only concentrate on keeping his temper under control. Dealing with her anger as well would make it even harder.
They reached the parking level and stepped out. "You don't need to say it," Bobby said quietly, still avoiding her eyes. He strode through the garage. When he reached their SUV he turned and saw that Eames hadn't tried to keep up with his rapid pace.
As she strolled toward him, she said, "If we had a clue what was setting him off we could deal with it, but it seems completely random."
Bobby shifted his leather binder from one hand to the other, then back again. He pulled on the door handle: she hadn't unlocked the car. He finally looked her in the eye. Her wry grin as she twirled the key chain on her finger relieved his tension a bit.
"He should have apologized to you."
"Eames, please…" Bobby didn't want to waste energy griping about the captain's moods. He tugged at the door again, but she closed her fist around the keys. She surprised him by grasping his forearm and squeezing hard.
"I needed to say that." She released him and walked around to the driver's side. He heard the clunk of the locks opening, and slid into his seat.
She started the engine, but didn't put the car in gear yet. She looked down at the steering wheel. "As long as you know and I know…"
Bobby nodded. "I do know. Thanks."
"We're good, then," she said, and pulled out of the parking space. Just like that, the tightness in Bobby's chest eased.