A/N: A quick note to explain my delay in updating-those of you who know me know that my little girl has been on dialysis for the past 4-1/2 years and has been awaiting a kidney transplant for the past six years. Last week we got the call. On Holy Thursday, just 2-1/2 weeks shy of her 15th birthday, she received a kidney transplant. She is thrilled, as are we all. What a gift for a child who very much needed it! So-yay for Katie!

Please understand that I love to write and as much as I love Goren, I can only write in my spare time. Since I work full time and raise a family that includes two chronically ill daughters, a chronically ill husband and a son who is not yet a teen, I cannot devote as much time as I would like to my craft. I do the best I can and update as frequently as I am able. I appreciate how much readers enjoy my stories, but please, bear with me as I balance my real life with the one I create in my mind and with my words for everyone to enjoy.


She left him alone for a few minutes as she drove toward Montauk, then she called his name. He looked at her right away, and she was relieved that he had not retreated as far as she'd thought. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I-I don't know. I...I should, uh, I should call my brother."

She felt a sudden, desperate need to keep him from getting together with his brother in the immediate future. His head was messed-up right now, and the last thing he needed was for Frank to toss his own particular brand of messed-up into the mix. She knew that he would need to talk to Frank soon, but right now he was vulnerable and dragging Frank into it would be the worst thing for him.

"Not now, Bobby," she insisted. "Wait until we talk to Colonel Sutter tomorrow. You should get the full story before you call Frank."

She had a point. He rubbed his hand over his hair as he nodded his agreement. "Okay, yeah...you're right. I should...I should get the full story before I call him."

After a few more minutes of prolonged silence, she attempted to zero in on his mindset and asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I, uh, what I think..." He slowly shook his head, unable to clear his mind. "I don't know. I don't know what to think or what to feel. I-I think I...I feel...gutted."

She didn't know what to say. Not wanting to say the wrong thing, she didn't reply. His gaze, dark and sad, strayed over her, but she wasn't sure he was really seeing her. Their case had crawled into the back seat and curled up in a corner, unnoticed, in the wake of this new development which had firmly shaken the foundations of Goren's world. They would get back to it, but first they had to deal with the identity of Colonel Sutter's wife and its ramifications for Goren.

Rubbing his palm over his thigh, Goren drew in a deep breath and tried to calm himself as he focused on sorting through his jumbled feelings. He felt a surge of gratitude that Eames wasn't inclined to be chatty. Turning back to the window, his thoughts centered on the mother he'd lost as a child, and then, on the partner seated beside him in the SUV. He tasted bile as his anger raged, aimed at the woman who had abandoned him so long ago and then calmed unexpectedly by a surge of unfamiliar emotions, ones that he was currently unwilling to explore, for the one woman who did not abandon him. Two women whose effect on his life was so profound... One made him feel worthless; the other let him know he was not. He had deep feelings for both women—one very negative, the other very positive. He resented his mother with an animosity that bordered on hatred, while he favored his partner with something akin to love. He was having trouble sorting through his confused emotions, unwilling to fully acknowledge any of them at the moment.

Eames found a place for them to stay near the town center in Montauk, which was as far east as you could go in the state of New York. She got one room with two queen beds, unwilling to leave her partner alone in his state of mind. He didn't argue. She wasn't sure he even noticed. They went to the room, but Eames felt unsettled as she watched him wander restlessly around the room. Staying in the room wasn't an option with which she was comfortable at the moment, knowing he was just going to mope and get irritated when she tried to engage him in conversation. So she gently grasped his arm, drawing his attention to her. "Go for a walk with me?" she asked.

He looked at her and she was hard hit by the deep sorrow she saw in his dark eyes. She swallowed, trying to unclench the fist that had gripped her heart. "A walk where?" he asked.

"Since I've never been to Montauk," she replied, struggling to loosen the constriction in her throat by clearing it. "I'd like to see the town."

He arched his left eyebrow, but didn't comment. She was glad to see some of the sorrow lift from him, and she squeezed his arm. "Walk with me, please."

His face softened some more and she saw a ghost of a smile breeze past his eyes. "Okay, Eames. I'll walk with you."

Her face brightened and he felt some of the heaviness lift from his heart. He followed her out of the motel and fell into step beside her as they walked toward Main Street.

After about twenty minutes of walking in companionable silence, Eames spoke up. With a gentle tone, she asked, "What are you feeling right now?"

He didn't answer right away, taking the time to try analyzing his emotions. He wasn't very successful. "I...I don't know," he replied honestly.

She decided to try to help him sift through what was undoubtedly a complicated mess in his head. She could see that he was struggling, unable to process it on his own. "You're angry," she began, knowing for certain that was one emotion he was feeling. She'd seen it in his eyes and she knew him well enough to know he was very angry.

After a moment, he nodded. "Yes," he said, willing to acknowledge that much.

"Tell me about that."

"What's to tell? I'm angry."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" he demanded as his rage surged, beyond his control.

"Talk to me, Bobby," she soothed, hoping she could calm him. He was all over the place at the moment. "I don't have any personal frame of reference for this, and I just want to...understand what you're going through."

She almost said 'help' instead of 'understand,' but stopped herself, knowing her choice of words was very important. He was a powder keg and she was holding a lit match. One wrong word would set him off and she would never get anywhere with him. She was being careful because she absolutely did want to help him. He just couldn't know that she was intentionally trying to do that.

Her tone was effective and his anger, so close to the boiling point, cooled a little. "I'm sorry," he murmured, as always, reluctant to upset her.

"Don't be sorry. You have every right to be angry."

"I...I...wait, what?"

She'd never validated his anger before, and her understanding set him further off kilter. As long as he was off balance, he couldn't focus and he didn't know what to do with the maelstrom of emotion assaulting him from all sides.

She couldn't help a small smile at his expression. "You heard me right," she said. "Her abandonment set the tone for the rest of your life. You were so young...I can't blame you for being angry. I would be angry, too."

"But...what Frank did also deeply affected my life. He took care of me, kept me out of foster care—and jail. But you still hate him, even though what he did for me was a good thing."

She sighed. "Hate is such a strong word. I don't hate Frank."

Frank had been there for him when he needed him most. He hadn't been an addict back then. He'd been a responsible big brother, something Eames failed to take fully into account when she reacted to her partner's admiration and respect for Frank, the scholar turned addict. Despite his stint as a narcotics detective, Goren was able to get past Frank's drug addiction and see the brother who—though little more than a child himself—had raised him.

"So why do we end up fighting every time he comes to town?"

"Because I don't like what happens to you every time he shows up. Trouble just seems to follow him around and he drags you down with him every time." She turned her head to look at him. "But why does it matter what I think?"

His expression morphed from anger into surprise. "Why does it matter? Because you matter...to me. Your opinion is very important to me, and I don't like that you think...well, less of me because I love my brother."

She stopped in her tracks. "Less of you? Bobby, I don't think less of you for that. I just worry that you're going to get into trouble I can't get you out of. For as long as we've been partners, Frank has been bad news."

He turned to face her, but he didn't say anything. She met his eyes, but wasn't able to interpret his expression. So she moved a step closer and reached out to lay her hand on his chest. He didn't move away.

He was surprised that she reached out to touch him. When her hand came to rest on his chest, he felt a warmth spread from the point of contact. His legs and arms felt numb and he couldn't look away from her. She did have a valid point, and he now understood why she got so upset every time he and Frank got into trouble. Admittedly, she didn't seem to get so bent out of shape when he talked to his brother. As far as she knew, Frank only came to town once every eighteen months or so, but that wasn't the case. Frank lived in Atlantic City, and he came to visit about every six months. Goren went to visit him just as often. So they usually stayed out of trouble, but he didn't like talking about his personal life with anyone, and he liked discussing his brother even less for the arguments to which it always led. He didn't correct her misconception. Tilting his head to one side, he said, "I guess part of that is my fault. I could be more careful. But...it's easier for you to blame Frank than for you to blame me, right?"

She nodded, not moving her hand. "Yes, it is. I don't enjoy being upset with you."

He placed his hand over hers. "It's no picnic for me, either."

Several other pedestrians walked by them, although none of them paid attention to the couple until a little boy, about three years old, ran into Bobby's leg, bounced off and fell onto his butt in the middle of the sidewalk. The spell between the two detectives was broken, and Eames withdrew from him. He turned toward the child and leaned down, helping him to his feet.

"What are you doing to my son?!" a woman screeched as she came out of a nearby store and saw Goren with his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Goren gestured defensively, not removing his hand from the child when he felt the boy cringe at the sound of his mother's shrill voice. "He fell," he explained. "I was only helping him up."

"What are you? Some kind of pervert?"

He fished his badge out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. "No. Actually, I'm a police officer."

That information changed the woman's tone dramatically. "Oh. I'm sorry, officer. Did he bother you?"

"No, ma'am. He's fine."

She took the little boy's arm, grasping her shopping bag in her other hand. "Come along, Jeremy. Let's not bother the nice policeman any longer."

They watched the woman hurry off, dragging the boy along with her. "Nice lady," muttered Eames. "She pays no attention to her son until she finds out you're a cop. Then she's the mother of the year."

Goren laughed softly, and they continued walking down the sidewalk. Eames had successfully managed to lighten his mood, although it slipped a few notches when his mind returned to his mother. She noticed the change and took a small chance. Since he had not objected to her hand on his chest, she reached out to him again and touched his hand as they walked, making sure he could easily pull away. Although he hesitated, he didn't pull away. Instead, he accepted her hand in his and she took a sideways step closer to him as they walked. "Tell me what happened when your mother disappeared," she said.

She felt him tense, but he still didn't pull away from her. She had asked him the same thing several times before, but he always refused to talk about it, even when he'd been drinking. The circumstances, however, made him more open to the discussion.

His hand tightened around hers and he bit down on his lower lip before he began to talk. "I was twelve, and it was in the spring. I was in the seventh grade. I was late getting home from school, and I expected her to be mad at me, so I stopped at Lewis' house. His folks both worked, so he was the only one home. We, uh, we raided his dad's liquor cabinet, and I had a couple of drinks, so that it wouldn't hurt so much when she beat me for being late. He promised to sneak over later with a pint of something, you know, in case the whiskey wasn't enough." He reached up and loosened his tie, undoing to top button of his shirt. He didn't release her hand. "When I got home, she wasn't there. I thought she'd had a breakdown and was at the hospital and I figured Frank was with her. So I went back to Lewis'. When I got home again, the police were there, and I got scared that Mom had just been out to the store or something and she'd called them when I didn't come home. So I had this story in my head to tell her, and I knew she wouldn't hit me while the cops were there, but...she wasn't home. Frank had called them. He'd gone out with a couple of buddies and his girl, and when he got home Mom wasn't there and neither was I. He didn't know what to think. He called the hospital and when she wasn't there, he called the cops. When I came home, he was relieved, and he told the cops that Dad would be home soon and we'd be okay. He also told me to shut up when I started to argue with him because Dad had been gone for awhile. Finally, the cops left, and Frank told me that something had happened to Mom, but he didn't know what. A few days later, we realized the picture was missing, but that was it. Her clothes, her books...everything else was still there. But we never saw her again."

"How did Frank keep you out of foster care?"

"He learned to lie well. He faked our father's presence until he turned 18, and then he was appointed my guardian. As far as the authorities knew, Dad had only just left. He bluffed the cops every time they brought me home and he signed everything with Dad's name. We managed. It was just him and me for six years, until I graduated from high school and turned eighteen."

She squeezed his hand and asked, "When did he start using drugs?"

"He was a casual user when Mom went missing, but he didn't get heavily into drugs until he was twenty-one or twenty-two. He always made sure I was someplace safe, like Lewis', when he went partying. Uh, the first time he got drunk, he was about twelve, and I think he first used pot around the same time. He didn't get stoned on harder drugs until he was fifteen. I started younger than he was, but I also got out of it and he never did. I, uhm, I caused a lot of trouble for Frank when I was a kid. I was very angry and kind of out of control. I was damn lucky I didn't end up in the system, and it was all because of Frank."

She already knew some of what he told her, and she knew that the two boys hadn't had it easy after their mom disappeared, but she hadn't realized just how difficult it had been for Frank. Goren's devotion to his brother was not misplaced. However, the tables were turned from when they were boys. Thirty-six years ago, her partner had been the trouble-maker and Frank the straight arrow, trying to keep his little brother out of trouble. Now it was Goren who was the straight one, although it seemed that when Frank got into trouble, Goren went right along with him. She wondered how much trouble he protected Frank from and how much trouble Frank dragged him into, but that wasn't a conversation she wanted to get into at the moment, knowing it was likely to lead to another argument.

"So now it's you keeping Frank out of the system?"

He shrugged. "I do what I can."

"How do you think he would feel if you lost your job because of him?"

He frowned. "I'm not going to lose my job."

She squeezed his hand tightly. "With Deakins gone, you don't know that. Bobby, the last time you got into trouble with him, it was serious. We had a hell of a time protecting you."

"Protecting me?"

That had been the wrong word to use, and he was getting angry again. When he started to pull away from her, she tightened her grip on his hand, reluctant to let him withdraw. "Why did you think we went out on a limb like we did every time?"

"I got along just fine before we...before I...moved to Major Case," he snapped.

She knew he was going to say 'before we became partners,' and, although he had censored himself, she was getting angry now, too. "Would you just listen for one damn minute? Drop the defensiveness and see that I only want to help you."

He settled down a little and stopped trying to pull away from her. She kept a tight grip on his hand, and he didn't say anything. Satisfied, she said, "Bobby, I care about you. I care what happens to you and I don't want to see you throw everything away because of the loyalty you feel for Frank. I can't believe he would want that, either—not if he loves you as much as you think he does. Do you understand that?"

His rage simmered just below the surface. "What do you want me to do? Abandon him like our mother did?"

She heard the anger that ran as an undercurrent through his words, and she tried to understand it. "Of course not. But don't throw away everything you've worked for all these years. You know, it is okay for you to watch out for yourself, to take care of your own life."

"Are you giving me permission, Eames?"

"Don't be an ass, Goren," she snapped, irritation finally getting the better of her.

She released his hand and walked away to avoid another full blown argument. She needed a few minutes away from him to calm down or she would say something she would regret. He stood there, watching her walk off, then he turned and walked in the other direction.