A/N: In order to give this chapter a little oomph, I had to manipulate the educational process a wee bit; know that there is no criminal science program at Fordham (in case you had the burning desire to apply to it).

"We're here."

He pulled up to the curb and put the SUV in park. Looking to his right, he cocked his head towards the brown-bricked building across the street with a gentle smile. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she exhaled, her hazel eyes wide set in comprehension of this moment. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the chilled fall morning, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her body as she crossed in front of the hood to meet her fiancé as he closed the driver's side door. He walked up to her and pulled her into his arms, his wool coated body shielding her from the nippy weather while his gloved hands rubbed the cold area behind her neck.

"Better?" He asked a few moments later, the leather surface of his gloves now rubbing the color back into her cheeks. She nodded, eyes closed, and felt a covered finger dance along her bottom lip before she heard him say, "I love you."

She smiled. "I love you too."

It was the forty second time they had exchanged I love you's since they had become engaged the afternoon before, and the first time they had left the house since. Her smile intensified as they crossed the street, recalling the first time they had made love as a betrothed couple, and the hours after when they held each other, sharing memories, wishes, hopes, and future realities. They talked about what the rooms in their eventual house would look like, where they would go on winter holidays and summer vacations, the way they would introduce each other once the world would be invited into the reality of their impending union…

…and as her head lay against Bobby's warm chest, Alex knew this was how she wanted to spend each night, curled up against his heartbeat, for the rest of her life.

So wrapped up in their detailed musings, they were startled as the alarm clock beeped at 9 AM to welcome them to another overcast day. Despite the lack of sleep, both felt as rested as they had in months, and as her fiancé toyed with her the ring finger on her left hand he stated what was running jointly through their minds…

"When should we go?"

They entered the jewelers at quarter to eleven, her frame walking across the threshold into the warmth of the building followed by his body, hand directing her towards the displays reserved for engagements. As they neared the counter, an elderly man walked through the swinging oak door in the back of the shop and approached the shelves.

"Good morning," he said, extending a furrowed hand which Bobby took and shook kindly. "What can I do for you two?"

They looked at each other for a moment before breaking their joint gaze, her face turning a gentle crimson as she looked towards the floor while his hands clasped self consciously behind him. The old man smiled knowingly, and said, "You must have just gotten engaged."

Alex let her head bob slightly in a nod as Bobby wrapped his hand around hers. "Let me see what I can do for you…" the gentleman said as he pulled a key ring from his shirt's breast pocket and sifted through the jangling metal. "I'm Miles, by the way…" he said as he bent to unlock the sliding door of the cabinet. "Do you have an idea of what you are looking for?"

"Something simple," Alex said, her betrothed's thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. "Nothing flashy or garish, just…"

"Clean cut," he finished, looking through his collection. "That, we can do."

He let his fingers dance along the edges the display boxes before he settled on a set of rings. "These," he said as he set the box in front of them, "are very basic in form. Most of them, as you can see, are solitaires, with diamonds that are round or marquise in cut...those diamonds range anywhere from one-third carat to one and a half carats. There are a small number of rings in this set with side stones, but as you can see, the true detail of the rings is in the design of the band."

Looking among the various rings, Alex saw his point; the loops of metal were twisted in simple curves and, along with the clear straightforward shape of the diamonds, created simple and elegant rings. Before she became too attached to the collection, she turned to Bobby and asked, "What's our price range?"

Bobby just shook his head lightly and said, "Pick whatever you want."

Alex smiled and turned back towards the assortment. After a few minutes contemplation, she pointed at a ring tucked into the top right corner of the box, a small self conscious smile gracing her lips as Miles pulled it from the velvetted case and held it up to the light. ".75 carat diamond with a round cut," he stated, examining the sculpted stone as it projected mini rays of scattered light. "Nice choice," he said with a small nod, pointing his index finger towards the band. "The first loop of metal, the more slender, lighter band is made of platinum. You can see how shape is wavelike, and together with the thicker band that sits below it and follows the same pattern, they hold the diamond in place."

The graceful curvature of both circlets suspended the diamond in air, and the thoughtful way she watched as the stone prismed small beams of color between it's cut edges made the jeweler smile as he continued. "The ring's design is supposed to signify the depth of a relationship," he said as he watched the couple's gazes meet again. "The wave's shape on the thin and thick bands symbolizes how the true strength of love is under the surface. Most people don't see the work and effort that goes into a relationship, or the deep beauty and reward of real honest-to god everlasting love; they only see the crest of the wave, but it's true power is under the swell. If that gem stands for marriage, then the bands stand for the foundation and the eternal commitment to love."

By the time the jeweler had finished his explanation, Bobby's mouth had interlocked with hers, their fingers laced together. She broke the kiss and said softly, "Us in a nutshell."

"Would you like it?" He asked gently, and she nodded her head yes. He turned back to the jeweler and said with a tip of the head, "We'll take it."

As the elderly man prepared for the sale, Bobby let go of Alex and watched her wander among the displays as he approached the register. "Just curious," Bobby asked quietly, his voice lowered to avoid her detection. "How did you know so much about the design?"

Miles just chuckled softly to himself and winked. "This designer tends to know his best work." He printed the receipt and handed it to his customer. "The value is around nine hundred dollars, but…I have a feeling this ring will be put to good use, so I'll sell it to you for seven twenty five."

Bobby grinned. "Thanks," he said, looking behind him to make sure his fiancé was occupied before asking almost inaudibly. "Would you do me a favor? I have an idea for the wedding ring…"

They left forty minutes later with a flashing jewel on Alex's ring finger and a well placed kiss on Bobby's cheek, evident symbols of their everlasting devotion.

…

The bank statement didn't lie.

He looked down at the opened letter and sighed; Alex had been called back to work on a lead, and Bobby was somewhat thankful because now he could have some time to plan. He wasn't in any financial trouble; the media attention to kidnapping pushed the department into providing more than ample compensation and his debts from suspension were all but non-existant.

But he had two weeks left of paid leave before he would be forced to make a decision, and Bobby was sure whatever it was, it didn't include a future with the NYPD. As he looked at the nearly nine thousand dollars that made up his bank account, he knew it was time to get to business.

He walked inside the apartment and closed the door, toeing off his shoes and removing his jacket before heading into the living room. Reaching his desk, he opened the wooden drawer and sifted through old mail before he found it. The crisp red letterhead stood out on the cream sheets: Fordham University, Department of Criminal Science. A few days after the night when Alex assured him she was there to stay, he sent off the application that had been put on the backburner since his release from the hospital months ago. A reply in the mail a little over a week later and Bobby had let it slip into obscurity, afraid to take the final step.

But his view on everything brightened when she accepted his proposal. All the choices that lay before him seemed interconnected, a unified movement from where he was and the life that could and would be his. He looked over Department Head Jeffery Pendelton's signature at the bottom, soaking in the reality of his decision, and read through the letter for the final time.

October 27, 2008

Detective Robert Goren,

Thank you for expressing interest in the position of Assistant Professor in the Criminal Science Department at Fordham University. You are one of many candidates to apply for the opening, and after reviewing the material it is clear that your experience in the world of academia is limited. The great majority of our applicants have gone through graduate and doctoral studies and various group research projects.

Bobby took a deep breath before continuing, as he did every time.

That being said, your record of service in the Criminal Investigation Division of the Army is very strong, and your experience in the NYPD as a detective in the Major Case Squad would provide a very different insight into the study of criminology than the majority of the candidates applying. I would love to set up an appointment with you after a meeting where your proposal will be put up to greater review by myself and two tenured professors in serious consideration of your employment.

Please refer to the attached material for more information on the interview.

Sincerely,

Professor Jeffery Pendelton,

Head of the Department of Criminal Science

Fordham University

He put the letter down on the table and dug out the envelope that sat beneath the legal pads in the desk's file cabinet. The attached information outlined the Q & A portion of the meeting, before which he was supposed to give a description of his projected advanced criminology course and its validity. Along with countless papers on presentation and responsibility, a cream colored card with the Fordham insignia was stapled to the front with a number.

Bobby picked up the phone but did not dial, conscious of the ripples this decision would set in motion. He would be making a major change in occupation at a pivotal point in his life, and in those moments he considered exactly what such a dramatic choice would really mean…

…it means freedom, he thought. It means living a life that is mine.

He put down the packet and pressed the ten-digit code.

…

Freedom.

That's what Bobby repeated to himself as he stepped out of the elevator. Looking down at the sheet of directions the receptionist had given him over the phone, he turned left at the third door down the hallway and into a well lit sitting area. The woman sitting at the desk was obviously a student, chewing gum as she talked on the phone without noticing his presence.

He approached the counter, clearing his throat slightly in order to get her attention; she jumped at the sound and turned to see his 6'4" frame leaning over her desk.

"Oh, sorry," she said as she turned back to the phone to whisper a quick goodbye before facing him with her full attention. "Last name please?"

"Goren," he said, turning briefly to look at the large oak door behind him.

"Robert Goren," she said nonchalantly as she found the name in the date book in front of her before hesitating. The student looked back up at him with a trace of awe written on her face. "Detective Robert Goren? From the paper?"

Bobby didn't know how to answer that question without going into a chapter in his life that he was trying to close; thankfully, the large door behind them opened as an aging man with black streaks in his silver cropped hair walked towards them.

"Detective Goren," he said, offering a hand, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Bobby extended his own to give the hand a firm shake. "I'm assuming you're Professor Pendelton?"

"Guilty," he replied with a warm smile. As the professor directed Bobby into the room, he detected something faint yet distinctly atypical about his guide.

At the doorway, Bobby turned slightly with an inquisitive gaze. "When did you come to America?"

Pendelton stopped for a second before turning to him with a grin. "At least fifteen years ago. How did you know?"

"You pronounced you with a hint of a British accent, and your last name is Pendelton."

His eyes weren't convinced. "A lot of American's have that last name…"

"Yes," said Bobby, "but the origin of the name is English. Your phrases are very typical of American academia, but your mannerisms are very precise, and going through the British education system would be a possible explanation for that."

The professor just shook his head and smiled. "I shouldn't have expected anything less from a criminal profiler. Please, come in." Bobby entered the room to see a whiteboard situated in front of two adults and a blank chair, which he watched Pendelton walk over to. "Detective, this is Anne Jewett and Paul Ackers, both tenured professors in our department. Anne," said Pendelton as he gestured to the woman sitting next to him, "has focused her research on the history of criminology as it relates to the concept of the societal norm. Her studies include mass surveys of social deviance and its relation to minorities and cultural background."

The female professor smiled, brushing a wayward strand of black hair back from her coffee-brown complexioned face. "It's nice to meet you," she said, the intense watchfulness in her eyes letting Bobby know she was going to make sure this interview stayed on track.

"Paul is returning to our department after spending a year in DC lobbying for better forensic technology in Virgina's crime labs. He focuses on the practices of criminal science in the public sector and applicable forensics."

Ackers gave a brief nod. "I look forward to learning about your proposal."

Pendelton turned back towards Bobby. "You know from the reading that I focus on the application of criminology in the courtroom, but now its time to focus on you. You can start your presentation any time."

Bobby took a deep breath, aiming to release the tension that was growing in his stomach, and began. He used the white board to explain the relation of practice in the field of profiling to greater understanding of human behavior, moving on to draw comparisons between past cases and comprehension of emotion. He wrote the name of the course proposal on the board, explaining that the best way someone with a future in profiling criminology could learn would be to become adept at reading as many people as possible.

"It's like riding a bike," he said, managing to focus on six pairs of eyes simultaneously. "The point at which you don't think about the details of the mechanism which is making you travel, the point at which you let your mind take you for the ride as much as your feet…that's the point at which you become truly capable."

He then went on to describe the upper level course in detail, outlining his syllabus and test schedule, describing the breakdown of points and the areas in which it would cross over with the sociology and psychology departments, and the ways in which they would study and practice the curriculum. As he wrapped up the presentation, Bobby went on to say that the biggest lesson students would take away would be that the science of criminology is flawed.

"There is no perfect read or examination. Criminology is constantly evolving, as are people…there is no way to be certain that what you've deduced is correct. I've spent over two decades of my life honing my investigative style and I am the first to admit my work is not perfect. It's just not possible to be right 100 of the time, but if you are able to understand where you are wrong it will be easier to see where your strengths are."

He put the cap back on the whiteboard pen as to signal the end of his talk and waited…

…but did not wait long.

"The course you are proposing," said Ackers, "would involve two very large departments and could easily cross over into either. Why the Department of Criminal Science?"

"Criminal Science would be nowhere without sociology," the detective responded. "Our society's definition of typical is what justifies the idea of the criminal: a deviant, someone who differs from our version of normal so much that he is a danger to our way of life. People who study profiling will learn that there is no absolute version of a criminal, that instead of viewing things in black and white there are multiple spectrums of different cultures' degrees of righteousness; an understanding of society is crucial to the practice.

"As for psychology, criminal profiling and psychological profiling are not the same thing; however, a basic understanding of psychology has helped me in NYPD cases countless times. Criminals always have a story, and if understanding how they function on a psychological level will increase your profile's accuracy, then it is worth it to know the fundamentals of cognitive science."

Jewett let a small smile grace her lips before it disappeared into the interrogation portion of his interview; Bobby knew that her area of expertise would interweave with the flow of his argument.

"You're not a typical applicant," she began. "I think we all can agree that most of our candidates' history with criminology comes from the academic level, and though some of our candidates have history in public policy or criminal justice, you are the only investigator of your standing to have applied for this position. I'm sure you realize that this would be a pay cut; assistant professors around here make about seventy five thousand where you've been making a little over a hundred. My question," she paused, making sure the genuine curiosity of her query was coming across, "is what is pulling you in this direction? Why are you making this change?"

Bobby knew enough from interviews that this type of question was usually taboo; however, he knew enough about academics that they would not stop questioning him until they found the elusive something that they were looking for.

"I've had a lot of opportunities in the army and the NYPD, with both Narcotics and Major Case, but the biggest opportunities I've had professionally involve gaining perspective. Personally, I have dedicated my life to the job, in a lot of cases sacrificing my professional opinion in order to surrender to the politics of it all. I want to teach here because I know if my views are compromised it will be over differences in opinion, not over public ties and deception. The actuality of being a police detective, especially in a unit with such high profile cases, also demands time and a precarious lifestyle." He smiled for a moment as his thoughts drifted homewards. "I'm engaged to a wonderful woman and I'm going to settle down, and I want to be able to concentrate for once on my family and life as much as my work. If that requires a pay cut, so be it; I'll have to adjust to the differences in profession, but if that means I come home at the end of the day knowing it was spent doing what I love, then none of it is really an obstacle."

The professors looked at each other for a second before Pendelton nodded and turned back to Bobby. "Thank you, Detective. If you'll wait outside, Professor Ackers, Jewett, and I will take a while to confer and then I'll call you back in with a decision."

Bobby nodded and gave a brief, "Thank you," before turning to the door. He sat himself in a chair in the waiting area, thinking about the interview as the colleagues debated in the room behind him. Jewett seemed to understand what he was saying and Pendelton was obviously curious, but Ackers looked like he had doubts.

Bobby exhaled a sigh; there really just was no way to tell. His mind wandered around Alex, the woman he was giving his life to; his profession, which he was abandoning for the chance to breathe again; his interview, which he was growing more and more uncertain about as the minutes ticked away on the surface of his watch.

He was lifted from his musings as the door opened and the department head stepped out.

"If you're ready," Pendelton said, "We've reached a decision."

A/N: What? She did not just create a cliffhanger! Okay, I sort of did, but you won't wait very long...by tonight you'll find out the status of Bobby's employment.