A/N: Okay so you may have noticed that I published this chapter, then took it down. That's because my stupid version of Microsoft Word only saved HALF of what I wrote! Which is why the chapter seemed to cut off at a weird place. So please, pick up reading where the last "chapter" left off and get the whole story! As always, thanks for reading and reviews are welcome!

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He paced the hallway outside of her lab, a caged animal, his hair bristled, his every nerve on edge. The click of her door as it opened was like the bell at the Kentucky Derby, and he acted accordingly. Charging past her, he set his binder down and resumed pacing, ever ignorant of social courtesies like invitations or greetings. He looked rough. He looked tired. But most of all, he looked defeated. Rodgers had heard about his fight with Eames, and that couldn't have fared well for his state. She felt a pang of sympathy for this anxious beast pacing her exam room; he never meant to be discourteous or abrasive to anyone, he just cared about the work so much. Too much. And these girls…these girls with their high spirits and passionate ways, their hearts on their sleeve for all the world to claw at. Well, these girls hurt him the most. Angie Suarez, Nelda Carlson, Jo Gage, each took little pieces of him with them; even Nicole Wallace got a share, exposing her wounded flesh just long enough to lure him near, before baring her teeth and tearing into him. Goren had a soft spot for broken girls…he just never saw how badly they broke him in return.

"Rodgers!"

Blinking, she gave his a faraway look. "Hmm?"

"I asked you what the results of the fiber test were."

Brought back to Earth, Rodgers reached for the manila folder next to the sink. "Treated leather. Good luck trying to track it down though. It's a common treatment process, found in everything from handbags to boots to saddles."

"What about Babs?"

"What?"

"B-Barbara Wheaton. What did you find on her?"

"I only just started on her this morning. Strangulation, just like last time, same type and depth of rope burns, and you were right about the cuts on her leg. He used a knife this time. Hesitation marks up toward her hip; he got deeper as he went further down. I'll call you when I have the rest."

"Okay. Um, thanks Rodgers."

"Goren!"

He stopped, not turning, only listening. "Go apologize to her."

He dropped his head and nodded, vanquished. He made his way to the elevator, pressing one instead of eleven. Once on the ground floor, he walked briskly to the corner donut store. Apologies and empty hands don't mix, his mother taught him. Sometimes, he thought she found a gem amongst her delirium…once in awhile.

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Dodging colleagues and closing elevator doors, Goren made it back to the eleventh floor just in time to see his partner hanging up the phone and glaring at him. "Deakins wants us in for a catch-up. Where have you been?"

He slid the white paper bag across the table. "I'm s-sorry. They um, didn't have any raspberry filled; I had to w-wait for them to come out of the oven."

Her favorite breakfast. She immediately softened her resolve; her partner the spanked puppy, his tail between his legs and his ears back, offering the squeaky toy of apology. Poor man. She felt guilty for going off on him last night; he was only doing the work. "You…you didn't have to wait. I like chocolate glazed just as much…"

"Yeah, well…I figured the least I owed you was a warm donut and an explanation. I-I didn't m-mean to exclude you, I n-never do, I just get so w-wrapped up that I um, forget. Not that I f-forget about y-you just that….aw jeez…"

He's suffered enough. She put her hand on his arm and stopped him, his fumbling attempt too painful to watch. He stared at her, waiting for some morsel of kindness, some indication that his thousandth sin had been absolved. "It's okay Bobby. I know you love the work. And I know that human interaction is not your strong point. Just try to think of me next time, okay? I don't like getting my information second-hand anymore than you do."

Goren took a breath, finally. He closed his eyes and nodded whole heartedly. She smiled, and all the planets fell back into their proper alignment. "C'mon, let's get in there before Deakins sends out an APB." She rose from her desk, nibbling on her peace offering and making her way across the pen. He watched her for a moment before taking off after her, no more anxious to be the subject of Deakins' wrath than she.

Goren sat down next to her in his Captain's office, his chest and shoulders free from the weight of her discontent. He would do well to remember that there were things here to maintain, to tend to. People were delicate things, maybe not him so much, but other people. People like Alex. People like his mother, and even his good for nothing brother. They all needed occasional tending to.

Deakins entered then, looking just as wounded as the two partners. He'd obviously just been torn a new one by someone upstairs, and he intended to pay it forward. He flopped down on his desk, his brow furrowed. "Where do we stand on this rope freak?"

"I uh, made a breakthrough in my profile last night. Our killer is not a true sadist. He's only playing one, to disguise the fact that really, he enjoys uh, being d-dominated by women. These aren't sex crimes, but revenge crimes. Someone made him feel very ashamed for these, uh f-fetishes, and he's trying to prove that he doesn't need to be controlled to get…excited. These complicated rope patterns are proof of the discipline and uh, 'affection' for control he's trying to feign."

Eames picked up "And while Bobby was playing 'Pin the Motive on the Masochist' I got in touch with SVU and asked them to research any domestic complaints involving non-consensual bondage or cases they may have caught with similar rope usage or victims. Got a few hits in the complaint department, we're chasing down the witnesses now. I also have the IT department checking out the victim's computers and internet histories to see if they spent time on dating sites."

"Dating sites?" Deakins' furrowed brow was now cocked in confusion. "You think this guy is trolling personals sites?"

"The victims share no social connections, and both of their ex-boyfriends checked out. He has to find his vics some way, and this just doesn't feel like a case of stalking."

Goren nodded "He's uh…not p-passionate enough for that. His method of killing is well thought out, but the c-crime in general is…uh not." A light rap at the door interrupted the trio.

Suddenly there came a tapping.
As of someone gently rapping,
Rapping at my chamber door.

Brittany entered, looking instantly guilty for the interruption. "I-I'm sorry. Um, Detectives, there's…someone…here to see you."

Goren twisted around in his chair to face a very nervous secretary, and an even more nervous visitor outside Deakins' door. A tall, lanky boy waited in the bullpen, shifting his weight from foot to foot and balancing a messenger bad on his hip. Bright blue hair sat atop a face with numerous piercings, his skinny arms boasting several tattoos and his gaze cast downward, waiting. Eames shot her partner a look. What now?

Goren stood and placed a hand on Brittany's arm. "It's okay B-Brittany. We'll take it from here, thanks." She dipped her head in acknowledgment, casting a sideways glance at the young man before scurrying to her desk. Deakins waved his hand in dismissal, and Eames followed her partner out. He was already shaking the boy's hand by time she entered the bullpen. Sticking out her hand, it was instantly swallowed by the boy's large grip. "I'm Detective Eames; I see you've met my partner already."

He suddenly seemed very interested in the floor "Yes ma'am. My name is Tyler. I was sent here to speak with you and your partner."

Sent here? Before the words can reach her lips, Goren is directing Tyler into the nearest conference room, offering him some coffee as he closes the door. Tyler shakes his head in refusal. "You said you were um…s-sent here. Who sent you Tyler?"

"My Madame, Devita." Eames groans inwardly. Not this again. The young man's bag is now on the table in front of him, and he picks through it, searching for something. A look of relief washes over his face as he claims his prize and places it in front of Goren; a manila folder, thick with papers and shiny photographs. "My Madame was very upset when she heard about the second victim on the news last night. She and Johnny spent all morning going through security footage from the club, printing pictures of customers that have caused a problem in the past. I was sent here to deliver them, and to answer any questions you may have."

Goren perused the contents of the folder. Eames, however, was more interested in Dee, and her actions. "Why didn't she bring this here herself?"

"She left this afternoon for Massachusetts. Madame is conducting some instructional courses at a leather conference there this week."

"Leather conference?" She was even more confused now.

"Yes ma'am. It's kind of like a comic book or science fiction conference, but for um…you know…people like us."

Eames nodded slowly. "How convenient." It just doesn't stop with these people, does it? Goren took the lead over his partner's stunned silence.

"We spoke with your um…Madame…a few nights ago. She clearly stated that she didn't think anyone in her…circle was capable of these murders. Where was this file then?"

Tyler stared at the table. His eyes moved back and forth, as if he were reading an invisible cue card. "Madame is very disturbed by these crimes, and by the negative light it's casting on our…uh, lifestyle. It has become clear to her that all avenues must be investigated, even if it means violating the privacy of her clients."

Goren lifted his eyebrows, mumbling an enlightened 'ah'. He continued to examine the photographs and the notes attached to each of them. Eames saw her opportunity." What is your relationship with Dee?" Tyler blinked his eyes, perplexed. "Your Madame" Eames corrected.

Tyler let out a breath "I have been under Madame's instruction for almost a year. I also serve as her janitor at the Violet, as well as her home. She has…changed my life…" he drifted off, his eyes taking on a distant look.

Goren placed a photo in front of Tyler, his finger over the head of the subject. "It says here this guy was booted from the Violet after only one night. What's his story?"

He leaned in, scanning the photo "Oh, that's Donny, the Fake Dom." Even Eames was interested now.

"Fake Dom?"

"Yes ma'am. The first night he showed up at the Violet, he ran around the place, being rude to all of the women, expecting complete strangers to call him 'Master', fetch him drinks, things like that. He lied on his member's application, boasting that he had over a dozen slaves, but it was obvious that he'd never handled a submissive in his life. Madame called it…um…delusions of…uh…."

"Delusions of grandeur" Goren finished for him. Tyler looked relieved. "Yes, that's it. Thank you, Sir."

Goren had already moved on to the next photo. "And this guy, he was allowed to participate for a few weeks before his membership was cancelled."

"That guy's name is Bryan. He was banned from the club because of 'pain-seeking behavior'." Goren listened intently, confused. Wasn't this entire lifestyle a series of pain-seeking behavior? Tyler must have sensed this and continued "Bryan came in as a submissive, and every time he was in a play session with a Dominant, he refused to use his safe word, even when it was obvious that he had reached his limit. He would purposely disobey commands in order to receive punishment. That kind of behavior is permitted in a scene, but he never followed one single command, even simple ones. The last straw came when he showed up one night with a cat-o-nine that he'd brought from home, with little tiny razor blades attached to each of the tails. Madame took the whip from him and tore up his membership card. She said that he was only interested in being abused, and didn't respect the motto."

"The um…m-motto?"

"Yes sir. 'Safe, Sane and Consensual.' It's a phrase used by participants in BDSM to ensure that all practices follow those basic guidelines. Bryan's behavior didn't even come close to following it."

As she listened, Eames slowly gained a minute amount of respect for Dee. She may not ever fully understand the motivations of people like Dee and her followers, but they went to great lengths to ensure that everyone remained safe, and in one piece. She jumped in "Where can we find these people?"

Tyler lowered his eyes again "Every person in that file has copies of their membership application attached behind their photos, ma'am."

Goren lowered his head, almost touching the table with his chin. Tyler reluctantly met his eyes. He gave Tyler a knowing smile "You um…you have a problem with respecting women." Tyler's eyes went wide, and his face took on the look of a boy who's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "It's just that you um…you lower your eyes every time you speak to my partner. Is that part of your training? You aren't allowed to make eye contact with women until you've learned to regard them as your superior?"

The boy's jaw dropped. He shrunk in his chair, bringing his arms together and dropping his head. Meekly, he nodded, "Yes sir. Madame is working with me to…modify…my behavior." He turned his head toward Eames, still keeping his eyes averted. "Madame says I've made great progress. I've grown a lot as a person since starting my training." Eames didn't know if she should be flattered or concerned that this complete stranger felt the need to explain himself to her. She settled on concerned, and moved the conversation back to its original destination.

"Do you mind if we keep these Tyler?"

"No ma'am. The original applications are still in the files back at the club." Tyler took Eames' question as a sign of dismissal. He gathered his bag together and stood, sticking out his hand to Eames, then Goren. "My pager number is written on the back of the folder. Please, call me there's anything more I can do to help. Thank you for seeing me today."

Goren glanced up from the folder long enough to say "No, um…thank you Tyler." Eames smiled at the young man, though he didn't see it, and pointed the way to the elevator. She slid in across from her partner and grabbed a photo, skimming the application behind it.

"What do you make of this?"

"There could be some, um…solid leads here. I think we should take it seriously."

Eames nodded. "You take the top half, I'll take the bottom?" "Yeah, sure." He tossed the top half of the file's contents across the table. Eames took it and headed for her computer.

Goren settled back in his chair, his nose in the file, his thoughts flooded with fragments of profiles.