Warning: mature content ahead. I'm sure you can guess...!

Brooklyn

August 2005

Emily had the front door open before Bobby had even gotten out of the car. She stood at the top of the steps, nervously wringing her hands, watching as he said goodbye to Alex.

"If you need anything…" she started to say.

"Thanks." He got out of the car and watched her drive away before making his way up the front steps to where Emily was waiting. "You ok?"

"Not really." She turned and walked back into the house, closing the door after he had followed her and double locking it. He could hear the sound of the television coming from the living room. "Amy's watching cartoons," she explained. "She wanted to play outside but…"

"So, what's been happening?" He kept his voice as neutral as possible. There was little point in adding to her obvious panic.

"I woke up at four this morning with the phone ringing," she replied, leading the way into the kitchen. "When I answered it, there was no-one there. Or rather," she added, "no-one who would speak. Just…heavy breathing. And then after that, the phone just kept ringing. On and on and all today too." She gestured to the wall where he saw that she had ripped the cradle out. "I couldn't take anymore! I don't…I don't understand what's happening…" she put her head in her hands and started to cry.

Bobby hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should go to her, but she made the decision for him. She stepped forward and he had no choice but to open his arms and let her inside his embrace. He held her for a long moment, awkwardly rubbing her back, unsure as to what her sudden need for contact symbolised but all too aware of the effect it had on him.

"And then…" she suddenly jerked back from him, "I called the local precinct for the luds on my phone and they wouldn't give them to me! Said they could only give out that sort of information to serving police officers! I mean, what does that make me, Bobby? Some kind of has-been? I was a detective for five years before I quit to have Amy. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Ok," he placated her as he pulled out his cell. "What precinct is it?"

Ten minutes later he walked into the living room where Emily was perched on the arm of the couch staring at the TV screen. Amy was on the couch. When she saw him, she leapt off of it and rushed over to him. "Bobby!"

"Hey," he greeted her, bending down to her level and hugging her aware of Emily watching him, "How are you?"

"Ok," she replied solemnly. "I'm watching My Little Pony. Do you want to watch with me?"

"Give me a sec, ok? I need to talk to your Mom." He gestured for Emily to come back into the kitchen. "They're going to email the list to me. Can I check on your computer?"

"Oh great. One call from the famous Goren and we're good to go." The hurt must have shown on his face because she quickly backtracked. "Sorry. Sure, but can you access the police computer remotely?"

"Things have moved on since you were last in a squadroom."

She smiled wanly. "It's through in the study." She led him into a small, tidy office with a desk, two chairs a bookcase filled with files and a computer. She switched it on for him and stepped back. Bobby sat down in the chair at the desk and once the computer was logged on, proceeding to tap into the police server. As he waited for it to connect, he turned around and looked at where Emily was gazing out of the window.

"Amy seems…in good spirits."

"She's four years old sat watching My Little Pony," Emily replied, "for her, life doesn't get much better."

"And for you?"

She turned to face him and met his gaze, "If I had one wish?" She paused. "I'm not sure one would be enough, Bobby. You're in." She gestured with her head and he turned back to face the computer. A few clicks later and the printer was spewing out a sheet of numbers. Emily pulled the second chair up beside him and looked at the list. "I recognise these ones," she said, pointing, "My sister…my mother…the dry cleaner…"

"What about the ones this morning?"

Emily scrutinised the number which first showed up at four am and every half hour after that until just after lunch when she had disconnected the phone. "It's the same number and…I don't recognise it."

"It's a cell phone number."

"Can you get it traced?"

Bobby made another call to the precinct. "They're a little backed up but they're going to do what they can. They should have something later this evening."

Emily sat back in her chair and let out a long breath. "I know the drill. It'll be a prepaid unregistered cell phone that no-one can trace."

Bobby thought hard before asking his next question. "Do you know Owen Slater's number?"

Emily shook her head, "No. Why?"

He shrugged, "Well…you never know…"

She sat forward, "You think it could be Owen?" He didn't reply. "Bobby, what aren't you telling me?" He still didn't reply. "If this has something to do with Paul's death, I think I have a right to know!"

"He came to visit you," Bobby said, dodging her original question. "Remember? You told me at the picnic."

"So what?"

"What did he say to you?" He watched the wheels turning in her head, watched her struggle with whether or not to tell him. "Emily, you can trust me."

She sighed, "Ok. If you must know, he freaked me out."

"Freaked you out how?"

"They way he was talking to me, it…" she ran a hand through her hair. "I've known Owen almost as long as I knew Paul. They were 'buddies' and there was a time when Owen was always around here. I never felt comfortable around him, never. I always felt he was…looking at me. And then one night, after we'd had a barbeque, he came onto me. Nothing happened," she said, pre-empting his next question, "I told him to get lost and he did. He was drunk and…and I put it down to that."

"So what happened when he came to see you?"

"He was talking about the grilling he kept getting from you and your partner. About how there was more to the investigation than you were letting on. And then…"

"What?" he pressed her.

"Well, I said that I thought that the same person who had killed Paul had killed Gabrielle. Sanchez. Then Owen said that…well, that if anyone asked me, that was the story I should stick to. Or words to that effect."

Bobby shook his head, "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Why would I have?" she shot back. "Do you think Owen's involved?"

"We went to see Charlie Mayer's sister up in Baltimore. Like you suggested."

"And was Charlie there?"

"No. She's gone into hiding. Because of Owen."

"Because of Owen what?" Emily demanded, "Jesus, Bobby, you can be so…frustrating sometimes! Just get to the fucking point!"

He ignored her bad language. "Her sister told us that Charlie and the other girls in the squad witnessed Owen…well…witnessed him killing Paul."

Bobby watched as the blood drained from Emily's face. She stared at him with a horrified expression. "No," she whispered quietly, "no…they were…they were friends. He wouldn't…"

"We don't have any evidence to back that up yet but…"

"Oh God," Emily said, getting to her feet. "Oh God, Paul…but why…?" she asked, "why would he do that?"

"We don't know. Maybe Paul found out that Owen was involved in something he shouldn't be. It's all…speculation at the moment. But you're right, you had a right to know."

Emily was prevented from saying anything else by Amy appearing at the door of the room. "Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Oh…uh…" he watched her fight her way back to normality, "Uh…sure honey. I'll make you something." She turned to him, "Do you want to stay?" He opened his mouth to respond. "If I'm being honest…it's not a request."

"Sure," he replied, "Sure, I'll stay."

XXXX

Amy chattered non-stop throughout dinner about everything from kindergarten, to her friends, to My Little Pony. Bobby interacted with her, answering her questions and asking some of his own. He noticed that Emily barely touched the pasta she had made. Indeed, she made little contribution except for when the phone rang just after six and she leapt almost three feet in the air. She had immediately looked at him as if to say 'you made me reconnect it.'

"Do you want me to…?" he had asked.

She had refused and had slowly walked over to it, her hand shaking as she reached for the receiver. When she had answered, he had seen a look of relief wash over her. "Hi Michelle."

"Can I be excused?" Amy asked politely, looking at her mother. Emily didn't reply.

"Emily," Bobby said, jerking her back.

"Sorry? What?" she looked at her daughter, "Oh, sure, honey. You go and watch TV." She waited until Amy had left the room before pushing her plate away from herself. "How much longer?"

"Until what?" Bobby asked.

"Until the precinct call back with the owner of the cell phone."

"Oh…" he took his phone from his pocket. "I'll call and check with them." He wandered into the study to make the call and when he hung up came back into the kitchen to find Emily stacking the dishwasher. "You were right," he told her, "Unregistered, prepaid cell."

She slammed the dishwasher door shut. "I knew it! Fucking typical!"

"I've asked them to put a trace on the phone."

Emily nodded and ran a hand over her eyes and then looked back at him. "Funny how no-one's called since you've been here. Even after I reconnected it."

Bobby understood what she was saying and immediately moved to the kitchen window to look out at the garden. The sun was still shining and the garden looked deserted. "Oh Jesus," he heard her whisper, "what if someone's been watching the house?"

"I'll check," he said, moving over to the back door. "Stay here." He unlocked the door and stepped out into the evening sunshine. He walked around the side of the house all the way to the back of the garden, checking everywhere he could think of. There was no sign of any disturbance. No indication that anyone was watching.

Emily met him at the door. "Anything?"

He shook his head, "No."

"Well…that's something I suppose." She stepped back to allow him in and locked the door again behind him. "I don't suppose…I mean…unless you're keen to get home…"

"No," he said, "I was going to ask if you'd mind me…uh…staying to play with Amy for a while."

"She'd like that," Emily replied. "And…so would I."

XXX

It was almost surreal, Bobby thought hours later as he tucked Amy into bed. The evening had passed so normally, despite the fact that Emily had glanced at the phone every few minutes as though she expected it to start ringing. It didn't. Indeed, it didn't ring once after her sister called. Amy had been thrilled at having him to play with for the evening and had succeeded in bringing out what seemed like every toy she possessed for him to admire. She never once mentioned her father. Emily had sat on the couch watching, occasionally joining in. For the most part, however, she had left the two of them to it. Part of him liked that she did that, for it meant quality time one on one with his daughter. But another part of him knew that her reasons for doing it were more due to distraction and worry than any conscience effort on her part to allow father and daughter to bond.

At eight o'clock, Emily announced that it was time for Amy to go to bed and a half hour of protest ensued. Amy cried lustily and at one point, Bobby thought Emily was going to cry again too. Eventually, the little girl went to bed, pacified only by his promise that he would come and play with her again soon. He read her a story and sat by her bedside until he knew she was asleep before leaving the room and heading back downstairs.

He found Emily on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand, another on the table for him. "I don't usually sit around the house and drink," she said as soon as he walked in, "but the last few weeks…and today…" she took a sip, "well…"

Bobby sat down beside her but made no move to lift his own glass. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier." She turned to look at him, "About Owen and Paul."

She shook her head, "I just can't believe that Owen…" she trailed off, "but then, I don't really know him. I never did." He watched her look at the picture of Paul on the table. "You know, if there was a choice, I'd rather he had been killed by Sanchez. Killed by the enemy, by someone he was trying to bring down. Not by someone that he thought was his friend."

"We don't know yet who it was," Bobby reminded her.

"If Owen killed Paul, does that mean he killed Gabrielle too?"

"I don't know. Jenny Patrick's dead too."

Emily's eyes widened, "When?"

"Last night. I got the call after I left here."

"And does it look like…?"

"She was killed the same way Paul was."

"Shit…" Emily breathed. "For once, I'm glad I'm not involved in this case."

"Do you miss it?" Bobby asked her.

"Sometimes," she replied, "when I see things on the news or I talk to people I know who are serving cops. I sometimes think about how good it would be to be back in the action. But, I've got Amy to look after. Paul always said that was a more important job. Maybe when she starts school next year I'll think about going back part time. In fact," she added, "there'll be no 'think' about it. I'll have to. I still need to pay all the bills."

"If you need money…" he ventured slowly.

"I don't."

"I meant…for Amy. You know…child support…"

She smiled at him, "You're very sweet, Bobby. But you didn't ask to be her father."

"But I want to be."

"I know, but you know that I can't…not right now. She wouldn't understand."

He knew that she was speaking the truth, but it didn't stop the gnawing in his gut. The agony of when Amy called him 'Bobby' when he really wanted her to call him 'Daddy.'

"You should have got married, Bobby." He was brought back to reality by Emily's statement.

"To who?"

She smiled, "To someone very lucky. We talked about it a long time ago, remember?"

"That night in the squad room." The first night they had kissed. As if he could forget it. "Well I've…still never found the right one."

"You will." He looked at her, her face in the dimming light, her eyes shining with something he couldn't place. Before he knew where he was, he was kissing her. "No," Emily said when he made to pull back, angry with himself, "Don't stop."

He kissed her again, more forcefully this time, his lips moving over hers, his tongue probing into the wetness of her mouth and meeting her own. After a few moments, she crawled into his lap, the very pressure of her body against his causing him to harden. They broke apart breathlessly and Emily immediately drew her sweater up and over her head, revealing a lace bra that, if he hadn't known better he would have swore she had put on because she knew this was going to happen, indeed had wanted it to happen. He kissed the swell of her chest, up her throat and back to her mouth again, his hands running gently along her torso and up to her shoulders.

"Bobby…" she whispered his name in the same moment that he pushed himself off of the couch and gently lowered her onto her back on the floor. They sank into the thick rug in front of the fireplace and Emily started unbuttoning his shirt. The feel of her hands on his bare skin only served to excite him more and he kissed her again, harder. Her fingers fumbled with the fly on his pants and for a moment, the metal stuck and he had to help her. "Sorry," she apologised, "I guess I'm not…" He didn't let her finish, cutting her off with the force of his mouth while she pushed his pants down over his thighs. His boxers followed quickly after and when he felt her hand somewhat nervously graze his shaft, he thought he was going to orgasm right then and there.

Emily reached under herself and unclipped her bra which Bobby quickly removed. Then he started on the tender flesh, kissing, sucking and biting, causing her to moan above him and grip him harder. Trailing hot kisses down her stomach, he unzipped her jeans and wriggled them off down her legs, leaving only the matching lace thong. Rather than immediately remove it, he kissed her through the sheer material, causing her to cry out. Then, with painstaking slowness, he slid it down over her thighs. Instinctively, she brought her legs up and Bobby lowered his head between them, his tongue searching out her sweetest spot.

Emily cried out again and he felt her fingers grip his hair. He continued to probe her until he knew she was close, until he could feel her body start to tremble above him and then he removed himself, sliding back up her body and kissing her again. He settled himself between her legs and was about to slip inside her when she brought him up sharp.

"Wait!" she said breathlessly.

He paused, "What is it?"

"I thought I heard…" he could see her straining to hear, "I thought I heard…Amy…Amy can't find us like this…"

"She's asleep," he reassured her, "she won't wake up. But…if you'd rather not…" Every part of his body was screaming out that he needed to be inside of her immediately, but he still had enough rationale to give her the option to stop now.

"No," she shook her head, "no, I want to…I need to…please…"

She didn't need to beg. He slid easily inside of her, hearing himself cry out along side her at the sweet ache caused by their union. Emily wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips rising to meet his as they started moving together. All of the old memories came suddenly flooding back. In Bobby's mind, they were back in the motel room, making love for the first and only time. Making Amy… This time, however, when he opened his eyes and looked at Emily, she was looking at him. As opposed to before, when he had mistaken her screwed shut eyes for pleasure but which he now realised had really been an attempt to hide who she had been making love with and so block out her guilt.

He kept looking at her the whole time he moved inside her and she kept looking at him. It was as if their eye contact was part of their bodily connection. Even when they began to move faster as they neared their climax they never broke eye contact. Then, it all seemed to become too much for Emily. As her orgasm washed over her, she arched her body back against his, her eyes closing, her voice coming out in rapid, breathless bursts, "Yes…yes…oh God…Bobby…Bobby…" The sound of his name only made him thrust harder, pushing her over the edge, watching as she fell down the other side, seeing the blush rise on her cheeks, visible even in the dim light.

Her body started to slow, but he wasn't quite there yet. She opened her eyes again to watch him, her hands reaching up to cup his face, her thighs tightening around him, squeezing until he could feel the blessed release coming. He could hear himself crying out, but he didn't know what he was saying. There was a buzzing in his ears growing louder and louder until he almost couldn't take it. Then, he felt himself spurt with a rush inside her and, exhausted, lowered himself gently down on top of her.

They lay like that for a long moment, both breathing heavily. Then, Emily pushed him away gently and rolled over onto her side so that they were lying facing each other. He was too spent to move and she reached over and kissed him gently, before nestling herself next to him.

Bobby felt complete and he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that she had completed him. Instead, it came out as "I love you." As soon as he had said it, he expected her to tense up, to pull away from him. Instead, she let out a long sigh and buried her face in his chest. But not before he had heard her reply.

"I only wish I could give you what you want."