Here's a little something for the baseball fans out there. I've been feeling sad about Yankee Stadium closing, and this little idea popped into my head. It's three chapters, all finished, and I'll post them quickly. Then I'll get back to work on "Holding Court."

Chapter 1: Pregame

Bobby Goren hunched over his desk, staring bleary-eyed at his completed stack of paperwork. The triple homicide was solved, sealed and ready to be delivered after a wrenching, seven-hour interrogation that had lasted into the wee hours.

He looked up at the clock to his right on the bullpen wall: 3:27. Half of the ceiling lights were off, and he and his partner, Alex Eames, were the last two detectives in the 20-desk room. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"Tired, champ?" Alex teased as she brushed a lock of blonde hair back behind her ear and mustered a smile that barely reached her dark-circled eyes.

"Champ?" he repeated quizzically.

"You're still the best. You were brilliant in there. You systematically broke him down, piece by piece, hour by hour. I have to admit, it was awesome to watch."

Bobby grinned. "I think you're forgetting that I was playing off of you. We had him in an emotional crossfire, and that's what brought him down. We're one helluva team when we're on our game."

"Well, thank goodness the game is over. I've spent so much adrenaline tonight I wouldn't have anything left if there were extra innings."

"I think we already played the extra innings, Eames. That's why we're so worn out."

Alex laughed and turned toward the printer, grabbing the last few forms it had just spit out. She added them to her stack and shoved the pile toward his, as if their chips were all in at a poker game. "Done!" she pronounced happily. "It's now officially our weekend."

"I can't believe Ross gave us a Friday off."

"Hey, we earned it. We wrapped up the case. For that matter, we already worked it. We've been here since this morning, remember? … Uh, make that yesterday morning now."

Bobby nodded and then tilted his head as he looked at her. "Big plans this weekend?"

She shook her head. "Nothing that exciting. Lots of sleep, a little shopping, dinner with my family on Saturday night. You're welcome to come. They'd love to see you."

"Thanks, but I'm going to do some serious baseball watching all weekend. The Mets are at Atlanta, and the division title is still up for grabs. It's the next-to-last weekend of the regular season, you know."

Alex smiled at him. The twin distractions of work and baseball had been a big help as he struggled with grief and assorted other painful emotions after the death of his brother. She knew he wanted to feel better; she believed he would get there eventually. And they were regaining their stride as a partnership. She could feel it throughout their most recent investigation. Tired as she was, she felt hope surge inside her.

"Hey, I've got some baseball plans this weekend too," she said proudly. "I'm going to watch baseball on TV all day Sunday."

Bobby frowned, trying to figure that one out. He knew she liked baseball, but a whole day watching … oh, yeah. "The Yankees, right? The last game at the stadium."

"Yep, ESPN will be there from lunchtime to the end of the night."

"Didn't figure you for a baseball couch potato, Eames. Unless a certain player showed up to give you a foot massage."

She laughed. Of course he would remember the remark she made years ago. "Well, I wouldn't turn that down. But seriously, Sunday is a really special day. I can't believe they're going to tear the stadium down. It's so sad. I have a ton of family memories, starting when I was 4 years old. I have to watch the last game and all the hoopla."

"I'll probably watch some of it too," Bobby admitted. "I respect the history and tradition, even though I'm a Mets fan."

"I just wish I could be there. But I guess every Yankee fan on the force volunteered for that security detail."

"Yeah, probably so," Bobby mused, his brain suddenly shifting into a higher gear. "Well, what do you say I drop the paperwork on the captain's desk and we get out of here?"

"Works for me," she said, rising with a stretch and a yawn. "I can't wait to get home and into bed."

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At 10 a.m. sharp, Bobby's alarm went off. Shaking the cobwebs out of his brain, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper curls, reached for his cell phone and dialed the main number at One Police Plaza. "This is Detective Goren. I need Sergeant Grimes in Special Events."

A click and two rings later, he heard, "Grimes."

"Hi, Sergeant. This is Bobby Goren."

"Goren?! You son of a gun, I haven't heard from you in … what, three years? Where you been? Too good for Shea security these days?"

"Man, you know better. Just working hard, and besides, your guys do a great job out there. You don't need me anymore."

"Yeah, in a pennant race, I usually get plenty of help. But I haven't forgotten how you helped in the lean times."

"So, does that mean you could do me a huge, huge favor this weekend?"

"Well," Grimes said, grinning into the phone as he anticipated the request. "There's always a chance I can help out an old friend."

"How about an old friend's partner? My partner, Alex Eames, is a Yankee fan, from a family of cops and Yankee fans. Any chance you could find a spot for her on the security detail Sunday night?"

Grimes frowned. "Hmmm. I thought you were going to ask for yourself, Bobby. And I could use a guy your size for something in particular. Two of my top guys just caught a case this morning, and they think it's going to keep them tied up all weekend."

"Well, if you need two, Alex and I would love to help."

"I don't know, Bobby. Women who try to get on these details tend to be starry-eyed about the players, and besides, there could be some physical aspects to this. I need big guys who can intimidate unruly fans, and I don't need any swooning women."

"Grimes, you don't know my partner. She doesn't swoon. And she doesn't rattle. And as for toughness, I may look intimidating, but she can kick my ass. I'm the brains of the partnership, and she's the muscle," he said with a reassuring chuckle.

"Seriously, Bobby, you'll vouch for that? I can't afford a mistake. I'm trusting you for a straight answer."

"Seriously, Grimes, she won't let you down. And neither will I."

"OK, buddy. You just got you and your partner some dugout duty."

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Bobby wheeled the Mustang out of the 1PP garage and headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge entryway. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open and hit 1 on his speed dial. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Hi, Eames, it's me. Did I wake you?"

She yawned. "Mmmm, that's OK. What time is it?"

"About 2:30. Time to get up."

"What for? We're off today. I can sleep as late as I want. And I didn't get to bed until almost 5."

"Well, you need to get up because I'm coming over. Got any coffee?"

"I will by the time you get here."

"OK, I've got muffins."

"In that case I won't kill you for waking me up at this ungodly hour."

Bobby laughed. "2:30? Ungodly? Eames, I've been up since 10."

"I guess I should thank my lucky stars you didn't want breakfast then, huh?"

Bobby grinned. "I'm on the bridge right now. Get that coffee perking."

He hung up and punched a button on the Mustang's radio. Classic rock blared from the speakers – "Jumpin' Jack Flash" by the Stones. Just right for Bobby's mood. He could feel the adrenaline kick in as he found the beat and started tapping the steering wheel. Just wait till Alex sees what I'm bringing besides the muffins, he thought happily.

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Alex had managed to pull herself together quickly after she hung up. Start the coffee, hit the shower, throw on a favorite pair of worn jeans and a snug-fitting, sky blue T-shirt. Comb through the hair, just a dash of makeup, and she was ready for her partner to arrive.

I wonder what he's up to, she thought. She could always tell when he had something up his sleeve. Secretly she was pleased. Whatever it was, she knew she would like it. Bobby was thoughtful and sensitive and great at little surprises that brightened her life.

Not that she could tell her partner, but just being around him brightened her life. She wondered if she would ever find the courage to hint to him about how she felt. As she pulled a couple of mugs and breakfast plates out of the cabinets, her mind wandered, imagining what it would be like to feel his arms encircle her, his head dip and his lips draw near to hers. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering his scent, imagining his breath caressing her cheek …

Ding-dong! The doorbell. Alex opened her eyes, blushing as she headed for the door. Knock it off, Eames, she thought.

As she opened the door, Bobby was dazzled by flashes of blue and blonde and pink cheeks. His eyes lit up and he smiled goofily. "Good morning, Eames. Uh, actually that's good afternoon, I guess."

"C'mon in, Bobby. Coffee's ready. Traffic not too bad today, huh?" she said, pulling her eyes away from him with some difficulty. Those black jeans and that charcoal gray sweater … he looked better than a chocolate chip muffin.

"Not at this hour," he said as he followed her into the dining nook.

She filled the mugs and brought them to the table. As she added spoonfuls of sugar to her coffee, she eyed the larger than expected brown bag on the table. "Mmmmmm. Got some treats in there?"

"Maybe you should reach in and find out," he said, the goofy grin getting wider.

Grabbing the bag, she slid her hand in. Her fingertips found soft, warm baked things … and something else. Plastic. She frowned and felt the item against the side of the bag. Definitely thick plastic. Rectangular. About three inches wide, extending deep into the bag. She grabbed an edge and pulled it out.

"What's this?" she asked, puzzled. Bobby just kept grinning. He was almost bouncing in the chair. You'd think he'd just given her a diamond ring.

She looked at it closely. What was that piece of cardboard in the plastic? Turning it around so she could see the other side, she read the words printed on it. Security, in large letters. NYPD. Field pass. The date: Sunday, Sept. 21, 2008. Yankee Stadium. Her eyes widened. So did Bobby's grin. And then she saw the red stamp. First-base dugout. Her jaw dropped. "Bobby?" she said softly. "Is this … real?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling shyly and reaching into his back pocket. "No big deal. I've got one too." He held it up. A matching pair. "I hope you don't mind, but I volunteered us to work Sunday."

She shook her head, still dazed, and looked down at the field pass again. Then she got up, stepped toward him and threw her arms around his neck. Startled, Bobby recovered quickly and wrapped his arms around her back. It felt soooo good to hold her in his arms. Boy, was this little trick worth the effort, he thought.

After a moment, Alex let go and stepped back. She looked him in the eyes, and he could see a little bit of mist in hers. "This is … an incredibly wonderful thing to do. H-how did you pull it off?"

Tilting his head and looking down at the floor, he shrugged. "Sergeant Grimes, the supervisor for Special Events, is an old friend. I used to work security details for him at Shea Stadium sometimes on my off days or for big games. I called to ask a favor and found out he had a late cancellation. I've worked dugouts for him before. It's not something you trust to just anybody. I think he was as happy as I was that I called right when he was trying to figure out how to replace his dugout guys."

"Bobby, you really are amazing," Alex said, shaking her head. "This is the best bag of muffins you've ever brought me."

"Good, 'cause I'm hungry," he said, reaching into the bag and grabbing a blueberry muffin. Totally content, he took a big bite and savored the moment.