REPOST/UPDATE

Initially I said I was going to take a hiatus to support the strike, but after talking with other fans who support it, the majority seems to think we need to keep fanfiction going. So I have been convinced that they are right and my initial reaction was wrong. Just a warning I will probably post things in my A/N with info/suggestions on how to support the strike. So if you think I'm being too preachy just skip the bold print and go straight to the good stuff (or I at least hope its good stuff).

First off, one thing that is being suggested we do is boycott the January 15th premiere of American Idol. Apparently this brings in as many viewers as the Super bowl. So the idea is if we can prove to the corporations that own the networks that they will lose ratings and money by not having writers, the sooner they may revisit the guild's demands and the sooner our favorite shows can get back into production. If anyone wants more info on what the strike's about go to the CI message board on the USA website and check out the thread "CI and The Writer's Guild Strike." In particular read the posts by VDOVault. They have the best info. There's links to other boards that have been set up to support the strike from several different fandoms.

A/N: Hey all! 40 reviews for 6 chapters! This is a personal high score for this novice to the fan fiction world and I'm really appreciative and glad you are enjoying.

Chapter 7

Eames put on a little more concealer than usual to hide the sleepless dark circles under her eyes. She was on her second thermos of coffee when she entered the bullpen and was greeted by the frustrated voice of her partner.

She looked toward the conference room and saw him standing next to the white board, animatedly arguing his point to Harris, who sat just as annoyed at the metal table.

Eames sighed, briefly wondering if she could just sneak out without either of them noticing, but she wasn't surprised when Goren's eyes found her and silently pleaded for her help.

"I'm not going to have to separate you boys, am I?" Eames tried to tease as she hovered in the doorway.

"Look," Goren said waving her eyes toward the board, which was filled with lists of words and their corresponding abbreviations. "Sh-she inverted letters to create a code." Eames recognized his excitable tone and nodded with his hand gestures. "Moving vowels to the front and constantans to the back…but she only did it in certain passages. This combination: A, E, S, H, N, shows up in every coded message…"

Eames squinted at the letters and then turned her eyes back to Goren's.

"Shane," Eames said.

"R-right," Goren said.

"Another boyfriend…one she didn't want anyone to know about."

Goren nodded. "An…older…boyfriend."

"This is all very fascinating," Harris said as he rose from his seat. "But I got at hit on Vega. We found a house that he uses on occasion in Queens. Ross and I are organizing a team …if nothing comes from it, then we'll move to your secondary theory."

"Sec-secondary?" Goren asked, matching Harris' condescension. "The boyfriends…are the only primary connections we have to Maggie…or did you forget about the missing girl?"

"We're all on the same team, detective," Harris said. "Just remember you two are on this case as a courtesy…the FBI is running it."

Harris stood his ground for a moment, keeping his eyes locked to Goren's, who nodded with a clenched jaw.

Eames looked down at the floor as Harris brushed passed her and let out along sigh before looking up at Goren.

"This isn't a hit or a kidnapping," Goren muttered, while pacing a small circle.

"Did you go home at all last night?" Eames asked.

"Uh…a couple hours," he shrugged. "I lost track of time…"

She felt a twinge of irrational guilt, which only fueled her growing irritation. Why should she feel guilty for his sleeplessness when she had her own to deal with?

He stilled and watched her. She was sure he could see her agitation and her exhaustion.

"Are…are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said shortly. "We should get ready…you know Ross is going to want both of us to go with Harris."

Goren nodded mutely and followed her to join Harris in the captain's office.

Two hours later the three of them stood outside the front door of Vega's modest house in Queens with a uniformed team on stand by behind them.

Goren and Eames stood on either side of the door with Harris in front of it preparing to knock. Vega barely got the door open before Harris pushed his way through followed by Eames and then Goren.

Vega's lanky frame stumbled backwards and tried to regain his footing to run down the hall.

"Get down!" Harris barked.

"What the hell? What I do?" Vega growled back and Harris pushed him to the ground to cuff him. "You guys better have a fucking warrant!"

"I think you'd be use to this," Harris said as he pulled Vega to his feet. "Sit down."

Harris shoved him down to the near by sofa, while Goren nodded for Eames to lead the way in their search.

She gestured for a few uniforms to take the upstairs while she headed down the hallway to the 1960s style kitchen with Goren behind her.

"Isn't this charming," Eames muttered as she glanced over the brown pattern of the linoleum.

She turned to find Goren's eyes focused on the red throw rug under a small table.

He slid the table out of the way and then knelt down to throw the rug away from the spot. Beneath it was a door leading to the basement.

Eames followed Goren into the dank, narrow space and found a grey cinderblock wall with a steel door. Goren fingered the pad lock on the door and turned a weary eye back toward Eames.

"I'll go find a bolt cutter," Eames said.

She climbed back up to the top floor and was quickly able to find a uniform officer who retrieved a bolt cutter from their truck.

Back in the basement, Eames found Goren crouched on the floor, trying to peer through the crack between the concrete and the door.

"It-it smells like bleach," he said, pushing himself up from the floor.

Eames nodded with thinly pressed lips as they shared a glance of apprehension regarding what they may or may not find behind the door.

She passed the cutters to him and he squeezed the sides against the heavy lock. Finally it snapped in two with a heavy clunk as the lock dropped to the cold floor.

Goren glanced back at Eames, who nodded as she placed her hand over the butt of her gun and then watched him push the door open.

They both sighed with a mixture of relief and disappointment at the empty room.

Goren quickly went into examine the sparse room, save one work bench against the far wall. Eames stopped short of the doorway and started to feel that familiar tightening in her chest as she noticed a rusted hook rooted to the ceiling.

She turned her focus on Goren's broad shoulders as he knelt to the floor and examined a specific spot on the ground in a corner.

"Eames," he called. "There's blood here."