Eames stood by the one-way glass, watching her partner sitting alone in the next room. After it was agreed upon by the parties in charge to consult with Cal Lightman, they watched Murphy and Sanchez interrogate Goren for another half hour. They were spinning their wheels, getting nowhere fast, so Gerrold pulled them out. Frustrated, they'd gone to their desks to work on reports while Turner and Ross went with Gerrold to review whatever evidence Gerrold felt at liberty to share with them.

After turning down an invitation to join Logan and Decker on a food run, Eames remained by the window overlooking the next room, and now she was alone. She watched Goren, placing her hand flat against the glass, but her mind was lost in the past. Logan was right about one thing: if their relationship was anything, it was passionate. They had come together explosively which set their world ablaze. As passion became the defining element of their relationship, working together became difficult. For the better part of two months, they struggled to find their way with each other in every situation except the one that led to the bedroom.

Knowing what he was like in private, she found it difficult to be close to him and not touch him. Sometimes, she gave in to temptation and brushed her hand or her arm against his. The results were electrifying, and they took lunch early. Once, he talked her into a rendezvous in the janitorial closet on the tenth floor, claiming it was the largest one in the building, next to the one on the twelfth floor, but that one was too close to the Chief of D's office. When she challenged him about how he knew that, he gave her a roguish smile and told her he liked to know his options.

He was very good at hiding his emotions, much better than she was, but sometimes they got the better of him. Those times were always amusing for her, and she let him know it. In response, he gave her a smile that melted her insides, and they never quite made it home after work. He was a master at finding clandestine rendezvous points, another of his many skills that she admired.

Fortunately, Ross read their tension as a continuation of the falling out they had suffered following Goren's undercover assignment to bring down John Testarossa. He had no idea they had resolved that issue long ago and moved on to brand-new, entirely unrelated issues. As for the tension at work, it had finally dissipated, making their private encounters much more intense and driven.

Then her mind stumbled over a memory, one that always brought with it powerful mixed emotions that she could never sort through. She did not know how to approach Goren with her confusion, so she just avoided the topic as much as she possibly could. Three and a half months into the relationship, he did something he could never undo, spoke words he could never take back, never deny. He confessed that he loved her. He wasn't just in love with her, although that was clearly evident, but he actually loved her. His confession had shocked her, but she had not replied in kind. Her own feelings for him, while passionate, were unclear. Tossing love into the mix muddied them even more. She could not differentiate her passion from her affection. She could no longer identify love. She wasn't even sure she could feel love any more. Losing Joe had utterly destroyed her, and she had never truly recovered. The loss had changed her into a different person. One day she had been happily married and planning a family. Three days later he was gone, taking with him everything she used to be. She never got that back.

In her mind, she could see Goren's open expression—partly hidden in shadow, partly illuminated by the streetlight outside the window. She knew how difficult it was for him to put it all out there like that. When the moment passed, she had no trouble reading that he was afraid he'd made a mistake, not in feeling as he did, but in telling her about it. Although she could not find the words then to respond to him in kind, she had sought to reassure him physically and thus let him know she took no offense to his confession. She took his body on a wonderful ride, not just once, but three times. Physically spent, he had slept deeply after that while she, though sated, remained awake, pondering the turn they had taken with each other, all thanks to three small words he had whispered to her under the cover of darkness: I love you.

It was something they had not yet discussed, although more than two months had passed since that night. Once it was out there, he knew he couldn't take it back, and he never tried. Instead, he said it again...and again. He said it often, struggling to become comfortable with verbalizing the words and with her knowing how he felt. She knew he was sincere, that he meant those words in a way he never had before. His battered heart had been so abused by those who were supposed to love him that he was reluctant to invest it again, but he trusted her, and what did she do? The same thing everyone else had done. She inflicted more bruises, more pain, and she hated herself for it, hated that she could not find the words he wanted to hear. If she said them without the emotion to back them up, he would know. He always knew. So she waited, but the feeling never came, and neither did the words. The emotion was never there. All that existed for her, ever since Joe died, was a void, and she had no idea how to fill it. She cared for him deeply, and her feelings were strong, but she did not know what love was any more.

She continued to watch him, and her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. She fought them. Not here, not now. She could not show weakness to those around her. She could not let them see her pain or the vulnerability that stemmed from whatever it was she did feel for Goren. He was her partner, her friend, her lover. He was strong enough to invest his heart in her and then let her know it. In the face of his unexpected courage in dealing with his emotions, she was a coward because she could not, or would not, do the same.

On the other side of the glass, he got up from the chair, restless and agitated, and paced, rubbing the back of his neck. His tie was long gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows. He paced for a few minutes while she watched. Then, he looked at the glass, and she pulled back. His expression was one of deep pain and regret, a familiar enough expression, but she wondered what could have caused such a strong reaction. She knew he hadn't killed anyone. Not this strong, gentle man who caught spiders and put them outside so there would be fewer mosquitoes to bother her. Not this big, tough cop who laid on the floor to play with her nephew so the little boy would have full access to him without having to look up so far or stretch so high to try to reach him. Not this damaged, tortured soul who still found it in himself to love her. For him to be accused of rape and murder was insanity. Regardless of who his biological father was, Goren did not have it in him to do that to any woman. She would bet her life on that. She leaned her head against the glass and laid her hand on it again. "Oh, Bobby..." she whispered.

He moved forward and placed his forehead against the glass, right where she was standing. His lips moved, and she could not hear him, but she read what his lips were saying, and she knew the words were directed toward her, even though he did not know she was there. I'm sorry.

Turner left Gerrold's office out of frustration. Ross had a great deal more patience for the crap the district captain was dishing out than he did. Goren was being railroaded but he had no proof—just like Gerrold had no real proof of his guilt. All he had was a witness who saw Goren talking to the victim hours before she was killed, and that was not proof. If this thing went to trial, Goren's life would hang on the ability of twelve strangers to make a decision with no evidence to review and no eyewitness testimony. There was no forensic evidence found at the scene. He argued that MPD had no grounds for arrest, but Gerrold disagreed. Danny Ross was the only reason he and Gerrold had not come to blows with each other, and Turner had angrily left the office. He took a couple of minutes to calm down before he returned to the observation room, pausing in the doorway to watch the partners interact without knowing it. "You're deeply attached to him," he commented.

She pulled away from the window, struggling to hide her emotions when she turned to face him. She swallowed the lump in her throat before answering, "We've been partners for a long time."

"That makes sense," he said, suspecting there was more to it, but respecting her enough not to push. He looked through the glass at Goren, who had resumed his pacing. "He's a good man, a hard worker, and smart as hell. I wish I could get him to join my team, but he won't. His home, and his heart, are in New York."

She sighed softly. "He loves being a cop. It's what he does best. He can get into their heads and understand their motives. I've never known a cop so good at that."

"That's why he would be such a good fit for my team. He's a born profiler, and he understands how the criminal mind works. I'm surprised no one noticed before now. With proper mentoring..."

"Someone noticed," she said, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone. "Declan Gage noticed, and he mentored him."

Turner looked surprised. "Gage? Before he had his meltdown?"

It was a valid question; Ross had asked it. Gage had been brilliant before his breakdown turned him into a crackpot. Eventually, he had succumbed to dementia, and Goren had been the obsession of his final decline. Every time she thought about it, she felt sick. "Before and after." She paused, feeling a strong sense of deja vu. "It was because of Gage that he became a cop and not a criminal. That is the only gratitude I feel toward Gage. Goren is a lot more forgiving than I am."

Turner was intrigued. "You've met Declan Gage?"

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," she replied. "His obsession with serial killers turned his daughter into one." She looked through the glass, focusing on Goren as she told Turner what had happened to Jo Gage. "She was his assistant from a young age, exposed to gruesome crime scene photos and detailed MOs of serial killers. When he met Goren, he saw the potential in him, the natural ability, the genius-level intellect. Gage knew what he could become with the proper motivation. Goren had a difficult childhood, one that was a proven breeding ground for criminals. When Gage met him, he still could have gone either way. He became a father figure to Goren, and he saved him. In Gage, Goren had the guiding hand he'd lacked as a child, and that set him on the path to becoming the brilliant profiler he is. But Goren's presence intensified Gage's neglect of his daughter. He was hardly a nurturing parent to begin with, and once he had Goren to mentor, Jo became little more than background noise to him. In Goren, he had the son he'd always wanted, which reinforced in her the feeling that she wasn't good enough, that she always let him down. She decided that the only way she would ever get his attention would be to become one of his case studies. She killed two women using the Sebastian MO because she knew it would get his attention. Then she kidnapped me, and she tortured and killed a third woman...while I listened. I would have been her next victim."

"What a horrible experience," Turner said as he moved to her side. "Have you recovered?"

"I'm working on it. I still have nightmares, but...I can deal with them now."

Now that I have him, she added in her mind. Turner looked into the interrogation room. "Do you think Gage's guidance set him firmly on the path of a profiler?"

"Absolutely. He lives on the moral high road. I've never known a man like him, Agent Turner. There's so much more to him than what you see, so much that most people never take the time to discover."

Turner studied her with the eye of an experienced profiler, and his voice was gentle when he spoke. "How long did it take you to discover his true nature?"

"Longer than it should have. I'm afraid I let him down too many times."

"Would he agree with that?"

"Of course not. In his mind, he was the one who failed me. He's very good at self-recrimination, even when it's not his fault. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"But he's not taking the blame for this."

"Because he had nothing to do with it. He didn't kill anyone."

"I believe that."

She watched Goren return to his chair and bury his head in his arms. He broke her heart. "Is there any way I can see him?"

He patted her shoulder. "I'll see what I can arrange."

He left the room and she turned back to the glass, wishing she were at liberty to greet him the way she wanted to, but that was impossible. She was standing on the brink of an endless chasm that embodied her greatest fear. She was on the verge of losing him, and she did not want to face that. She just wanted to take him home and make this all disappear, to lose herself in him and make the world go away. He'd spent years trying to protect her. Now all she wanted was to protect him from the spectre of false accusation. Her eyes grew moist again as she read despair in every angle of his body. Touching the glass once more, she whispered his name.

She heard someone enter the room behind her and she pulled herself together once again before turning to face him. Ross looked back at her from near the door. "Agent Turner is trying to talk Gerrold into letting you in to see your partner. Murphy is against it because he wants to keep Goren isolated."

Anger pushed her tears away and gave her a good excuse for the tremor in her voice. "Murphy can go to hell."

"Fortunately, it's not up to him." He paused. "Are you all right, Eames?"

His question, sincere and gently asked, chased away her anger and returned her emotions to their previous unsettled state. "I hate seeing him in there, captain. He doesn't deserve this."

"I know. Unfortunately, our assurances are not proof of his innocence."

"What do they have on him?"

"From what I can tell, not much. But it's enough to get a search warrant for his apartment and his car."

Her anger was back. "What?" She knew how much he valued his privacy, and this violation was unforgivable. "What are they looking for?"

"Condoms, for one. So they can test the spermicide for a match to the ones used in the rapes. Apparently, the same condoms were used in each of five recent rapes they believe were committed by the same man. That's one reason why they are looking at him for the five murders instead of just the one."

She felt herself shake with rage. "Rape is such a violent crime. It's driven by power and hate. He's not a violent man and he's definitely not a rapist. He has no need to assert power over anyone."

"Goren and I may have had our differences, but I have never seen the potential for rape and murder in him."

"Not even when his brother was killed and you found out Brady was his father?"

Ross sighed. "I still have a job to do, Eames. You saw the evidence. Just because I had to follow where it led doesn't mean I believed it. That's why I left it to you to find out what was really going on, because I knew you would. I knew you would never let your partner hang, so that left me free to play devil's advocate."

"You have a lot of faith in me."

"I have a lot of faith in both of you."

She looked at the floor so she wouldn't have to look at him. "And how far will you go now, captain? What will you do for him in this situation?"

"I will go as far as I have to go and I will do whatever I have to do. They are going to serve the warrant, so when Logan gets back, he and I will go to Goren's place and keep an eye on them. We'll do the best we can to keep them to the letter of the warrant." He paused. "What will they find, Eames?"

"Nothing they are looking for."

"Do you know where he keeps his condoms?"

She paused. They'd used condoms when they first started sleeping together, but once she was well-established on birth control and they had taken the extra step of getting tested to reassure each other they were clean—which was something they did without either of them insisting on it—they discovered a whole new world of pleasure without them. She was certain he didn't have any condoms, but that was not something she could share with Ross. "There's no reason for me to know that, but if he's like most men, they'd be in the drawer of his bedside table. He's a careful man, so he would have them close at hand, just in case."

Ross nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer. "Can I ask you something, Eames?"

Once more under control, she looked up at him. "Go ahead."

"Can you tell me why Goren refused her advances? I saw her picture. She was a beautiful woman. Sexy, successful, a great catch. Why would he say no?"

She wondered the same thing, though for very different reasons. "Are you asking me to get into my partner's head, captain? I don't know why he would turn her down, but he says he did and I believe him."

Ross nodded. "So do I. I read the bartender's statement. He admits that Goren left alone and it was a good half hour or more before she left. He claims he thought he saw her talking with someone outside the bar, and it could have been Goren, but he got called to serve someone and by the time he'd done that, she was gone, so he isn't completely certain who she left with, if anyone."

"So whoever she was talking to may have been the person who killed her."

"Possibly, but there is enough question about that person's identity for them to assume it was Goren."

"Why would he hang around outside the bar for a half hour or more?"

"He was waiting for her?"

She shook her head. "If she was interested in him and he wanted to take it someplace else, he would have just left with her. He wouldn't lurk around in a nearby alley waiting for her. He said he left and went for a walk. He does that when he's troubled or he needs to think."

"Why would he be troubled?"

"Goren is always troubled. Maybe it was his project; they've had some setbacks. He doesn't like being away from home. It could be anything."

"He misses you?"

She conceded that much with a nod. There was nothing unusual about that. "He misses Logan, too. He misses New York, his job. He hasn't been home to visit his mother's grave or his brother's. He's a complicated man."

"And a devoted one. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

For a moment, she wondered if Turner had said something to him about the talk they'd had, but she realized she was being paranoid. He had to be asking about the search warrant, and it was not unreasonable that he would assume she had been to his place. After all, he knew she spent the last weekend, and a little more, in Washington with him. "Just don't let them break anything. He doesn't have a lot of possessions, so the few he does have are important to him. And remember, captain, he's not trying to hide anything. He didn't do anything wrong."

"I know. We'll make sure they behave."

She had to trust him to keep his word, which was easy to do, knowing Logan would be there, too. If anyone, besides her, had Goren's best interests at heart, it was Logan. Logan would make certain they behaved.

When Logan and Decker returned, they set down the bags of Chinese takeout and Logan barely had time to meet Eames' eyes before he had to take off with Ross. Decker also insisted on going along, which Eames appreciated. She was grateful Goren had been given an FBI partner who allowed himself to care about him.

About fifteen minutes later, Turner and Gerrold entered the room. Turner said, "Fix a plate for yourself and your partner, detective. Once the warrant has been executed, chances are he will be formerly arrested and charged, but he'll spend the night here in lockup. Lightman and his partner will be here first thing in the morning to talk to him, and we'll go from there."

She'd fostered no hope of going home with him that night. She figured he would either be arrested or held in interrogation all night. "So they'll arrest him, even if the search of his place yields nothing?"

"That's their plan."

He helped her dish out two plates, and she grabbed a fork and a set of chopsticks. She never had a burning desire to struggle with her food learning to eat with chopsticks, but Goren was very comfortable with them. The last time they'd had Chinese, he started to teach her how to use them. Thinking it would be easiest to start with large pieces, he showed her how to hold the chopsticks properly in her right hand. Her first few tries had launched pieces of broccoli, cauliflower and carrot to various places around the room. They were soon joined by two water chestnuts and three pods of snap peas. Not wanting his living room decorated in modern Chinese stir fry, he'd switched to noodles. When she twirled the noodles around the chopsticks like spaghetti around a fork and declared she was getting the hang of it, he looked at her and they both dissolved into laughter, which progressed to kissing, which led to sex in the middle of the living room floor. Their food was cold by the time they got around to eating it, but neither of them cared. She decided that eating with sticks was just never going to be a skill in her repertoire, although he seemed determined to change both her attitude and her skill set. She was happy to let him try. He was infinitely patient as a teacher, and her heart did a small flip as she imagined him teaching college...high school...middle school...grade school. Her mental image of him sitting on the floor, reading to a class of five-year-olds wasn't so far-fetched; she had seen him do just that with an assortment of young nieces and nephews in her sister's living room. She would never want him to trade his badge and gun for a planbook and chalk, but that didn't stop her mind from placing him in that career field. He was so good with children.

"Detective Eames?"

Startled from her reverie, she gave Turner a blank look for a moment before she recovered. "I'm sorry. My mind wandered for a moment."

"I trust it didn't wander very far."

She studied his face. What was she doing, thinking she could hide anything so powerful from an experienced FBI profiler? She felt a moment of panic; he saw that, too. "Relax," he said quietly as he handed her the two plates. "Your secret is safe with me."

She met his eyes, feeling a rush of gratitude. He grabbed two sodas and motioned toward the door, quietly cautioning, "Remember, nothing is private."

She nodded, well aware of the camera that would be on and running while she interacted with her partner. She appreciated his warning, though. "Thank you, Agent Turner."

"Vic. You can call me Vic," he insisted.

She gave him a genuine smile of gratitude. He motioned for her to lead the way to the next room and he followed.