Danny Ross sat at his desk, staring at the notes on the pad in front of him. Angelo Moretti...Andy... There was a name he hadn't heard in a long time, not since the divorce. He wondered how difficult this was going to be.

Rising to his feet, he went to the door and motioned to Eames, who was bored and looking his way, probably hoping for a case. Be careful what you wish for, he thought. "Your partner, too," he called, returning to his desk.

When Eames was seated in front of him, with Goren lingering in the background as he usually did, he said, "We have a detective from Queens coming in with a new case he's going to work with the two of you. Orders from upstairs. His name is Andy Moretti. He's a ten year vet, but he's only been a homicide detective for a year-and-a-half. He's a detective second grade with a good head on his shoulders. Be nice to him."

Neither detective showed any reaction to the news, so he went on. "Moretti caught a case, a young woman strangled in a one bedroom walk-up in Ridgewood. This kid's sharp, and he remembered a similar case sometime last year, so he went looking. He found another one from Queens, in Bayside, and three more: two in the Bronx and one in Manhattan, all in the last eighteen months. The casefiles are on their way from their prospective precincts. Any questions?"

When neither detective spoke, he gave them a curt nod and turned to his desk, indicating he was done. They left the office and returned to their desks. Eames watched her partner, waiting for him to speak, but when he said nothing, she spoke up. "Well?"

He looked up from his open binder. "'Well' what?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll let you know after we look through the files."

"Not about the case. About Moretti."

He shrugged. "I don't know. If Ross wants him to follow us around, that's fine, I guess."

She frowned when he turned back to his binder. She was worried about him. Since his brother's funeral, he'd been even more withdrawn than usual, and she wondered if Gage had anything to do with it. So she went fishing. "You've been to see Gage," she said, stating it as a fact rather than a question.

He looked surprised. "Uh...yes."

"Why, Bobby? Hasn't he done enough harm?"

He was quiet, fiddling with the pen in his hands. "I need...information from him."

"Information?" Before she could ask what information Gage could possibly have that he wanted, a flash of insight gave her the answer. "Wallace," she said, her voice as full of venom as it was when she spoke Gage's name. "Can't you let her go? She's dead."

He had come to accept that. What he struggled with was the cascade of emotion that came with that acceptance. He had no idea how to even start discussing it with Eames. How would she react if she knew he stayed in the squad room late at night, replaying the Wallace interview tapes? What would she say if she knew he was trying to get Gage to tell him where her body was, so he could give her a proper burial, something he knew Gage had not provided for her? She wouldn't understand. He knew she wouldn't, and he didn't want to fight with her any more. He closed his binder, rose and walked away.

She watched him go and made no move to follow him. She was tired of chasing after him. She remained at her desk and clenched her fists in frustration.

Goren returned to the squad room within the hour and placed a cup of hot coffee from the coffee shop down the street on the desk in front of her. She looked up at him and her anger melted away. With a sigh of resignation, she wrapped her hands around the cup. "Can't you just let her go?"

He eased himself into his chair and answered, "It's not about that. It's about...closure. About finally saying goodbye and knowing that's it. It's about..." He closed his eyes for a moment. Then, he opened them and said softly, "Resolution."

She met his eyes and held his gaze. "It's about knowing beyond all doubt that it's finally over," she said gently.

"Yes...and letting myself grieve over it."

"Over her."

Again, he nodded. "Then I'll be able to let her go, once and for all."

She sighed. She didn't understand, but she accepted what he needed. She had never understood his relationship with Wallace. Eames knew that her psychopathology fascinated him, but she also knew there was more to it than that. Had circumstances been different, had Bobby been a criminal instead of a cop, she had no doubt that he would have been the one partner, the one lover, Wallace would never have disposed of. "Let me know if I can help," she offered finally.

He relaxed. "Thank you, Eames."

Just before lunch, a young man approached their desks. "Detectives Goren and Eames?"

"Yes," Eames answered.

"I'm Andy Moretti."

He was tall and thin, his dark hair cropped close to his head. He had dark eyes that smiled even when he didn't and a midrange suit that fit him as though it had been made for him. What drew Eames' eye, and made Goren smile, was the fact that his tie was adorned by Mickey Mouse. He noticed their surprise and amusement, and he grinned a little sheepishly. "It was a gift from my nephew."

Eames held out her hand. "I'm Alex Eames," she said. "This is my partner, Bobby Goren."

Moretti shook his hand, studying him intently with a wary expression. He pulled a couple of folders from under his arm. "I, uh, I brought the files for the two Queens cases with me...crime scene photos, reports, everything we have."

"Good," Eames answered, sounding annoyed. "Let's take it to a conference room."

As they walked across the squad room, Eames stepped to Moretti's side and leaned close, speaking softly but sharply. "You'll get along with us a lot better if you don't treat my partner like a circus freak."

Embarrassed, Moretti looked at the ground. Like most of the department, he'd heard the rumors about the renegade detective from Major Case, how it was only a matter of time before the guy snapped. That made him a bit uneasy at the prospect of working with him and his partner. Of course, he'd also heard the rumors about him and Eames. As long as Eames was around, Goren would be all right. He'd made up his mind to decide for himself, but he was still nervous, and he must have showed it.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Goren opened the conference room door and watched Moretti enter the room. As Eames stepped to the doorway, he leaned toward her and whispered, "Circus freak?"

She turned her head to look at him, surprised and mildly embarrassed that he'd heard. "It was the first thing that came to mind."

"I see."

He smiled, amused, and she elbowed him in the stomach as she moved past him. He laughed quietly, closing the door behind him.

They set up the conference room, knowing more cases would arrive in the morning. Goren pinned the crime scene photos to the wall, grouping them by case. Then he studied them while Eames spread out the reports. Moretti leaned toward her and asked, "What's he doing?"

"He's thinking," she replied.

"He can hear you," Goren muttered absently.

Eames smiled. He was having fun with the nervous detective who had absolutely no idea what to make of him. She shifted two reports and said, "You get used to him."

Goren looked over his shoulder at her. "Is that what you tell people now?"

"I can think of worse things to say," she said.

"No, that's all right."

He turned back to the photos to hide the small smile on his face.

Eames watched him lose himself in the photos and she knew she would never get him away for lunch. "Pizza or Chinese?" she asked.

"It's your turn to decide," he replied absently, reaching out to touch a photo of one of the victims.

"Pizza, then," she decided. "You're buying."

"Pepperoni and mushroom," he answered without missing a beat.

"Got it. Come on, Moretti."

Moretti did not hesitate to follow Eames from the room.

Ross approached as Eames sat at her desk, ordering their lunch. "Andy," he said.

Moretti turned. "Danny," he responded with a smile. "Long time, no see."

The men shook hands. "Any problems?"

"Not at all."

Eames looked up, surprised by the familiarity between the two men. She covered the receiver and said, "He doesn't know what to make of Goren."

Ross laughed. "Neither did I for awhile."

Moretti grinned, then said, "The boys told me you're doing well. Jeremy and I went fishing last weekend when Sean went on that camping trip with his scout troop. He said you were tied up."

"This squad keeps me busy. I'll pick them up this weekend."

"Good. They wish they saw more of you."

"It's a mutual feeling." He clapped his hand on Moretti's shoulder. "Let me know if you have any problems, Andy."

He gave Eames a knowing look and walked away. Eames set the phone in its cradle and looked at Moretti curiously. "You know the captain?"

"Uh, yeah. He didn't tell you? His ex-wife is my sister."

"No. That little tidbit kind of escaped him."

Goren was going to love this. She stood up and called to one of the other detectives. "Ethan, pizza's ours when it gets here. We're in conference 2."

"You got it, Alex."

Moretti followed her back to the conference room.

Goren was sitting by the table, his hand against his mouth, studying the pictures.

"Forty minutes," Eames said as they reentered the room.

He nodded, then pointed to the pictures."What did the ME in Queens say about these marks on their abdomens?"

Eames shuffled through the reports. "Uhm, they're burns."

"That's it?'

"That's it...except that they're postmortem and they appear to be letters."

"We need Rodgers to look at these bodies."

Moretti commented, "The first one has already been buried."

Goren looked at him. "So we unbury her."

"Doesn't that take a court order?"

"Yes."

"So who gets the court order?"

Eames was surprised at her partner's patience as he answered, "We call our ADA and she gets the order. Rodgers gets the body and we get the report."

Eames added, "Unless he wants a playdate with the ME."

Moretti looked uncomfortable. "Then what?"

"Then we get to watch my partner poke and prod a body." Eames could swear the newcomer lost a few shades of color. "You have worked homicides, haven't you?"

"Well, yeah...but my partner takes the lead. I don't have to, uh, interact with the victims. I get to process the scene. You know, talk to folks who are still breathing."

Goren was back at the pictures, studying the burn marks on the victims' abdomens, but he murmured, "They don't have nearly as much to say."

Moretti looked confused. "The dead don't talk."

"No, but they speak volumes." He leaned in close to one of the pictures. "Eames?"

She stepped up to his side and followed the path of his fingers over the marks. "R-I-P."

"Initials?" Moretti offered, eager to be an active part of the team.

"Maybe," Goren answered vaguely.

He sat down again, thinking. Suddenly, he cocked his head and returned to the pictures, looking closely at one victim, then the other. Returning to the table, he shuffled through the reports, pulling out the ones he wanted. "Here, Eames. There was a mark on each woman's hand, and another on her arm, near the elbow. They're identified as burns."

She waited, knowing there was more, a greater significance that he was getting to. "They're not burns?" she offered.

"No, they are burns...electrical burns." He shuffled through the papers again. "I really need Rogers to look at these victims. These woman were electrocuted, either just before or just after they were strangled."

"Overkill?"

"I don't think so. I think he was experimenting, with euthanasia."

"He was looking for a humane way to murder? That's a new one."

Goren grabbed his binder and began to write.