When she arrived at the squad room the next morning, Eames thought she'd gotten in before Goren for a change...until he showed up. He was freshly shaven and in a clean suit, but she recognized the suit as the one he kept in his locker. "You didn't go home last night," she said.
"Uh, no...I...I worked. I crashed for a couple of hours in the crib."
She watched him gather the reports from his inbox and study them as he walked to the conference room where he was working, making it clear he didn't want to discuss it. She gave Ross an update and joined Goren, watching him compare the autopsy results with the crime scene photos. His notes from each scene were scattered over the table, and he consulted them, too. "Find anything?" she asked, knowing that work was always a safe topic between them.
"I'm not sure." He shuffled through his notes, then consulted the autopsies. He slammed the reports down on the table and thumped them with his index finger. "Bingo. Here it is, Eames. The thread that connects the two victims."
She leaned over the table beside him. He turned his head to look at her, but he said nothing. He tapped the papers in front of him. "Autopsy," he said softly, continuing to look at her. "The...autopsy..."
She moved her hand, stroking the back of his with her index finger. "What about the autopsy?"
After another moment, he looked away, taking a little more time to compose himself. It was rare that their personal feelings interrupted their work, but it happened from time to time. It was a reassuring event for both of them.
"The autopsies," he said, refocusing. "Each of our victims had bone cancer. We need to pull their medical records."
"I'll get on that."
She moved away and left the room. He let out a long, slow breath and dropped his chin to his chest. After a moment, he picked up the reports and turned around to look at the photos on the cork board.
Eames returned to the room, stopping in the doorway. "Let's go, partner. We have another victim."
He grabbed his binder and jogged after her.
Eames squatted beside her partner as he examined the body. "It's the same MO, Eames. I'll bet you fifty she had bone cancer, too."
"If they hadn't been dumped in such prominent areas and caught the right attention, they'd have been shuffled to the overworked local units and dismissed as drug overdoses."
He leaned back on his heels, thoughtful. "The cancer...they were newly diagnosed. They hadn't started chemo yet."
"How do you know that?"
"Uhm, chemotherapy requires frequent IV access. Patients undergoing chemo have central IV lines placed when they first start chemo, for ease of access...usually subclavian...in the chest." He motioned his hand over the victim's clavicle. "My...My mother had one. When she discontinued her chemotherapy, they removed the line."
She looked at the body for a few more moments. "Come on, Bobby," she said softly. "I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
Sitting in the booth at a nearby diner, well away from the hustle and bustle of their world, Goren reached forward and took her hand. He gently kissed her fingers, which made her smile. He was all about private moments. Out and about where all the world could see, he was very reserved. But when they were alone, he was tender and sweet. She moved her index finger unexpectedly, slipping it past his lips into his mouth. His eyebrows arched in surprise, but he responded by gently sucking her finger. When she slid her finger along his tongue and out of his mouth, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Opening his eyes, he smiled, a small, shy smile. "Can I see you tonight?" he asked softly.
She drew a circle in his palm with her index finger and returned his smile when he caught his breath. "Count on it," she answered, warmed by the heat in his eyes.
The waitress delivered their coffee and they sat in comfortable silence for awhile. Eames thought about the way they'd parted the night before. At home alone with a bottle of wine, she'd come to realize that she was approaching her request the wrong way. Asking him directly was sure to result in a 'no, thank you.' She should have known that. But there was a way to approach him that would get her what she wanted. That was what she needed to do.
"Bobby," she began. "You once told me you would do anything for me."
He nodded. "I remember."
"Well, I need you to be my date Thursday night."
He sat back and folded his hands around his coffee cup. She wasn't surprised to watch him withdraw. With a frown, he said, "Do you realize how uncomfortable it would be for me?"
"Can't you even give them a chance? That's all I'm asking. Just...be with me, that's all, because I want you there."
He looked into his coffee. He felt backed into a corner, trapped with no way out. If he didn't agree, he would be breaking his word to her, and that was something she wouldn't let go. Neither would he. "All right, Eames. I'll go with you." He pushed his cup away. "We really should get back."
He slid out of the booth, dropped several bills on the table and walked away. She felt no surge of triumph that he agreed to go with her to her parents' holiday get-together. Actually, she felt very guilty. Dammit, Goren. You never make anything easy.
Goren watched impatiently as Rodgers performed the autopsy on their victim. He felt very restless in the squad room around Eames, still angry that she'd used his promise against him to get her way. Rodgers didn't like having him around much, either, but they hadn't received the medicals on the first two victims and he had to get away from the squad room.
Rodgers appreciated Goren's calm demeanor. Nothing in the autopsy room ever rattled him. She glanced at him as she finished her gross external exam and turned off the recorder. If she had to choose a favorite among the detectives she dealt with regularly, in spite of the problem they'd had over the paternity test he'd asked her to perform, it would be Goren. He was interested in every aspect of his cases, even the part that took place in her morgue. She could always count on his interest, and she was relieved to note the return of his enthusiasm, although he seemed out of sorts at the moment.
Goren hovered behind her as she made her Y incision. "Some breathing space, detective. Please."
"Oh. Sorry."
He backed off a few paces and she smiled. Taking her time with each cut of her blade, she could hear the detective's impatience in his restless shifting. He had an idea of what was there and he was anxious for her to find it. He had a lead to follow and, like a bloodhound who'd picked up the scent, he was eager to be after it.
He never told her what he expected her to find, even when he knew, so she could approach the body with an open mind and not miss anything. She had never known him to compromise a case or risk a conviction. But even though he stood by, waiting silently as she did her job, he was restless. She wondered why he was down here, hovering over her shoulder, and not in the squad room, hovering over his evidence.
After reflecting back the skin from her initial incision, she picked up the three-foot long shears she used to cut the rib cage, giving her access to the heart and lungs. "Plans for Christmas, detective?" she asked, attempting to set him more at ease.
"What?" he answered, distracted from watching her cut through the ribs.
"Do you have any plans for Christmas?"
"Uh, yes. I have plans."
She was glad to hear that, but she gathered from his tone that he wasn't glad for it. Give a little, get a little, Liz, she told herself. "I'll be spending the day with Danny and his boys."
"Is that going well? You and the captain?"
His question surprised her. She expected him to divulge his plans, not keep the focus on her. "Uh, well, yes. Yes, it's going well."
Goren nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."
Rodgers rarely ever asked personal questions of the detectives who came and went through her morgue, but she felt a sudden urge to connect with Goren. "Are you seeing anyone?" she asked.
He was caught off-guard by the question and his restless anxiety increased. He had always felt a kind of haven in the morgue, a place where no one cared about his life or how he lived it. "Uh...y-yes. I am seeing someone."
She dictated her findings of the heart and lungs before picking up a scalpel to remove them from the chest. "What is she like?" she finally asked, when it became obvious he wasn't going to willingly offer any more information.
He wasn't sure how to respond. "She...she's good for me," he answered, uncomfortable with any scrutiny of his private life.
Rodgers respected his discomfort and didn't ask any more questions, but the damage was done. "Call me when you find something, Dr. Rodgers," he said suddenly, moving toward the door. He stopped before leaving and warned, "My private life is not for public discussion."
Then he left. As she had feared, telling Ross about the existence of that paternity test had done irreparable harm to her relationship with Goren. He no longer trusted her with any part of himself, and she felt that loss more strongly than she would have expected. They had moved on, and while he might have forgiven her, he would never trust her again.
Eames worked at her desk, but she looked up every time the elevator bell rang. Goren had left shortly after they returned from the scene, and she knew it was because he didn't want to be around her at the moment. Perhaps she had played the wrong card in getting him to accompany her to her parents' on Thursday, but she knew that once her family was done with him, he would feel better about his relationship with them. As important as they were to her, she felt strongly about including him in her visits as much as he would allow. Not at all, however, was not a viable option.
She knew he still felt guilty about Nate's kidnapping, and he had not been wrong that her sister had blamed him, too. But he had risked his life to save Nate, and that made everything right with Reggie and Aaron. They could have remained in England, where they were safe, but Goren wanted none of that. They came home for Nate, and they had both expected him to die, a fate he'd made peace with but she had not. She'd dealt with it by stepping into a physical relationship with him. Losing herself in memories of their last hours in England, she remembered with clarity how desperate she had been to burn every moment into her memory--every emotion, every sensation, every look and gesture. He'd accepted everything she had to give and returned more than she ever expected. Closing her eyes, she felt a spark deep inside ignite and begin to spread. Her hands closed into fists as she opened her eyes and looked around the squad room. In the past, she hadn't paid much attention to those around her, beyond her partner and the captain. Now, she had become more sensitive to the reactions Goren got from those around him, and they troubled her. People never took the time to get to know him, and that irritated her. She had to get out of there, or she was going to explode.
Grabbing her coat, she flipped open her phone as she walked to the elevators, dialing his number. When he answered, he sounded tired. "What is it, Eames?"
"Where are you?"
"I needed fresh air."
"Dammit, Goren," she hissed into the phone, using anger to cover her desperation. "Where the hell are you?"
"Down the street, almost at the diner."
"Wait there."
She snapped the phone closed and got onto the elevator.
He was leaning against a light pole, smoking a cigarette, when she approached him. He put out the cigarette as she grabbed his arm and led him further down the block, away from the headquarters building. "Eames, what's wrong?"
She didn't answer him. Instead she led him around the corner before turning into a small, dark alley. There she spun toward him and, grabbing his coat in both fists, she pulled him down toward her, kissing him hard. Sliding her arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss, easing off the pressure to make it less desperate and more tender.
She overwhelmed him completely, and he could think of nothing but responding to her. Pressing her against the wall, he buried his hand in her hair, seeking a deeper kiss.
When she finally broke away from him, he released her and pressed his forehead against the cold brick of the building he'd pressed her up against. She straightened her hair and clothes, and she brought her breathing under control before she touched him again. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely as she laid her hand on his back.
He turned his head to look at her. "Sorry for what?"
"For upsetting you."
He sighed and turned around, leaning his back against the building. Reaching out, he pulled her to him, holding her close in a comfortable, tender embrace. He smoothed his hand over her hair. "I was being stubborn," he admitted. "But I know how much you enjoy the time you spend with your family. I'm afraid I'll ruin that for you. They want to see you, Eames. It doesn't hurt you to spend time with them, away from me."
"But Thursday is special. It's a time for family, and like it or not, as long as we're together, you are part of my family. You should embrace it, because it's something you have never had before."
"That's exactly my point. It's something I've never had before. Never having had it, I'm not likely to miss it."
In her mind, she suddenly understood what he feared most. It wasn't being part of her family. It was being part of that family and then losing it again. Pulling back from his embrace, she looked up at him. "Do you think this is all just temporary?"
He lowered his chin to his chest and looked at the ground. "Nothing is forever, Eames."
"Do you doubt what I feel for you?"
"Honestly? I don't know what to think about it."
"What about how you feel?"
"In the end, that doesn't matter. When you decide to move on, what I feel will be incidental."
Her eyes filled with sudden tears. She hated how he could so readily bring tears to her eyes. He was the only person in the world who made her feel vulnerable, and while she hated feeling that way, she loved him all the more because he could do it. "Why do you always consider yourself incidental?"
He couldn't explain that to her. He was raised in an environment that taught him he did not matter. He had never managed to overcome that. Over the last year of her life, his mother had reinforced that lesson. Only Frank was important. He felt incidental because he was incidental.
In his pocket, his phone rang. He pulled it out. "Goren."
"It's Rodgers. I found something."
"We'll be right there."
He closed the phone and slid it back into his pocket. "That was Rodgers. We have to go."
She grabbed his arm before he could move and held fast. Looking into his eyes, she spoke with all the sincerity she could manage. "You do matter...to me. And that is what counts. I am not going anywhere, Goren. I committed myself to you, and I understand exactly what that means. So unless you have plans to sabotage our relationship, I plan to stay right by your side because that is where I belong."
He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again. She leaned into his kiss, and they both wanted more, but they ended it before it could escalate out of control. Taking a deep, calming breath, she turned away from him and returned to the street. After a moment he followed her.
As they walked toward 1 PP, he said, "I don't, you know."
"You don't what?"
"I don't have any plans to sabotage what we have."
"That's good to hear."
After a pause, he said, "It won't be me, Eames. I won't be the one to walk away."
She touched the back of his hand with her fingers, then withdrew. "Then I think we're good...as long as you're willing to work on it when things go off track."
"I'll try. What I have with you is very different than anything I've had before. All I can do is try."
"That's all I'll ask."
They walked the next half block in silence. "It's all right, then," he said without preamble. "Thursday. I'll go with you. But you don't have to go with me to the cemetery."
"I do have a grave to visit...in Queens, not Brooklyn. I can go with you to Holy Cross if you'll come with me to St. Brendan's."
He shook his head. "It's not my place to intrude on the time you spend with Joe."
"Suppose I ask for your support? It would be nice to have a pair of warm arms to comfort me when I visit him. It's still difficult for me. And I would like to do the same for you."
"That's not necessary. I would rather be alone. But if you want me to go with you, I will."
Privately, she felt a guilty sense of relief. She didn't like visiting his mother and brother, not because she didn't want to be there for him, but because of all the negative emotion that stirred within her when she thought of them. He had been devoted to his mother, and she only ever tore him down. His insecurities and negative self image were her handiwork, and she could not forgive Frances for that. And Frank...all he'd ever done was think of himself, not what he was doing to his brother. He was never there for Bobby and only caused his brother pain. She could not pretend to grieve when she honestly believed he was better off without them. Now he really was free to live his own life and not a life for them. He could finally be his own person, and she liked the person he was becoming with her.
Her body was still reeling from their encounter in the alley, as was his, and they were both more than ready to take it further, but the headquarters building loomed ahead of them. They each withdrew behind the walls they erected to protect themselves from the world around them. They had managed to get past most of the barriers the other put up, but the ones they erected at work were not ones they ever tried to breech. They were too close to headquarters to risk any kind of public display of affection with one another, so their only option was to withdraw. They both had plenty of practice at hiding themselves from the world, and that is what they would do until they were alone again.