Malicek looked at the time as she came out of the bedroom. It was 7:30. She went into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee into her insulated travel mug. Entering the living room, she said, "He's sleeping. Should I wake him?"

Eames shook her head. "No. Let him sleep for a little while. I'll get him up."

Malicek eyed her with a look akin to solidarity. "He's kind of amazing, isn't he?"

"Excuse me?" Eames asked, not sure to what the agent was referring.

"He did spend the night with you, didn't he?"

Nugent sent a look of surprise in Eames' direction. Eames felt her face color, but the casual tone of Malicek's query surprised her. "He spent the night in my spare room," Eames answered. "That's all."

"Seriously? Hm. The way he talks about you, I assumed..."

"You assume too much, Agent Malicek. We're not close in that way."

Malicek let that digest for a moment. "That's a shame for you," she said. "He's pretty amazing. But anyway, someone should keep an eye on him. He said the room was spinning, and that concerns me."

"Didn't concern you enough to put off having sex, though, did it?" Eames snapped.

Malicek didn't know how to interpret the venom in Eames' tone. "I followed his lead, detective, so if you take issue with something that happened in that bedroom, take it up with him. I only did what he wanted me to do." She waved her hand at the monitors. "You're gonna need a hand. You can't watch the monitors and keep an eye on him, too."

Nugent raised his hand. "I'll stay for awhile. Maybe he'll move out here onto the couch later. I can call Andy and see if he can come over early. We'll get it covered."

"Good," replied Malicek. "I'm going to search the Bureau database for that Michaels woman he discovered in connection with our guy."

Eames nodded. "That sounds like a good idea," she said, glad that Malicek hadn't volunteered to stay. Although she had grown accustomed to the abrasive FBI agent and she knew that Goren was unfortunately close to her, she really didn't want to spend an entire day with her. Small talk with Malicek would be excruciatingly painful.

"Are you sure, Jeff?" Malicek asked, thinking how uncomfortable it would be to spend an entire day with Eames without Goren to connect them. He was just about the only thing they had in common, although not the way Malicek had originally assumed.

"Yeah. I don't sleep until late afternoon anyway. Go on, Corrie. We got this."

With a nod, Malicek gathered her things. "Have a good day, then," she said, and she left the apartment.

Nugent looked at Eames. "I owe your partner a debt of gratitude. He's drawn her out and I can see more and more of the person she used to be in her. He's given her a focus beyond the case, and she's really needed that for a very long time."

"He's a good man, and I'm just glad she's not changing him."

Nugent nodded. "I can understand that. Why don't you go check on him? If he's got a head injury like you say, then we should check on him frequently."

She agreed with him and went back to Goren's bedroom. Nugent turned his attention back to the monitors.

Eames entered the bedroom and found her partner sleeping on his side, wearing the blue t-shirt she'd given him and his boxers. She approached the bed and reached out, tugging gently on a couple of curls. His hair was dry. He hadn't made it as far as the shower and she felt a tightening in her gut.

She honestly didn't know how she felt about him and Malicek. In some ways, she was good for Goren. In other ways, not. Sometimes, like Nugent, she was grateful for the distraction that Malicek provided for him. Other times, she just didn't know what she felt. Jealousy maybe? Did she want him to look at her and feel the same kind of desire he obviously felt for Malicek? If they ever crossed that invisible line they'd each drawn in the sand, would it change their partnership? Would it destroy the connection they had? Could they ever take the chance, knowing there was no way to go back?

She played with a stray curl that drifted onto his forehead, her thoughts tumbling as she allowed a deep sense of regret to fill her. Would it be worth it to risk the partnership to explore a deeper relationship? He stirred, turned partly on his back and opened his eyes. When he looked up at her from under half-closed lids, her heart did a little tumble and she ran her fingers across his forehead and down the side of his face.

He smiled at her and her heart—damn the fickle thing—tumbled again. "How do you feel?" she asked. "Malicek said you were dizzy."

"A little," he admitted as he rubbed his side. "My head hurts, but mostly, I'm just sore. What time is it?"

"Almost 8."

"Is Malicek still here?"

"No. Jeff is."

She couldn't tell if he was disappointed. "Why don't you come out to the couch, so Jeff can go home?"

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, but he moved too quickly. The room took a dip and a spin, and he muttered a swear. He rubbed his temple hard, trying to alleviate his headache. She reached out and ran gentle fingers across the back of his head, drifting to his shoulders, where the muscles were bunched in painful knots. "I resent feeling hungover when I never had a drop to drink," he complained.

Eames smiled and took a step back. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her waist and drew her back to him, resting his head against her chest. Surprised, she hesitated, then stroked his hair, hoping to soothe his pounding headache. She resented Malicek for her selfishness, although she didn't doubt for a moment that Goren had initiated the dance. Would it have killed the woman to think of someone else for a change and tell him no? Honestly, how hard was it to say no? Whether he agreed or not, it was rest that he needed most, not sex.

She moved her hands back to his shoulders and began to work out the knots in his muscles. He groaned, and his head lay heavier against her chest. His fingers tightened on her waist. As he began to relax, his headache started to ease and his groan morphed into a sigh. He wanted to stretch back out on the bed, and his mind wondered if she would lay down with him. Was it a chance he was willing to take, being in the same bed with her, clothed or not? It wouldn't necessarily take a lot of coercing for him to stride into that forbidden world that their partnership prevented them from entering, not any more, not since he'd begun to see her more as a woman and less as a partner. But how would she feel about it? That was what kept him on his side of the line.

"You did a good thing," she said softly, breaking his train of thought. "It was on the news. The little girl you saved was the governor's favorite granddaughter. Now he's looking for the hero who saved his little angel."

"Some rescue. I had to toss her through the air at her father," he said, not moving his head from its resting place against her chest.

His breath was warm against her skin, heating the valley between her breasts. She worked to stay on topic. "Bobby, you saved her life. There's not a scratch on her. She thought it was fun. You, however, got hit by the cab that would have killed her. They saw your badge; they know an officer with a gold badge saved her."

"But no one knows it was me, right?"

"So far."

"Good. Keep it that way."

"Bobby..."

"Shhh," he hushed. "Just keep doing that."

Her fingers continued to work his muscles and her mind continued to wonder, especially after what Malicek said about her experience with him. She had no doubt that he was amazing. "Why don't we take this into the living room so we can watch the monitors?"

"I, uhm, I have research to do..."

"So do your research. I'll watch the cameras and I'll feel better with you in the room."

Finally, he nodded and got up. She watched him yank out a pair of jeans and pull them on, not missing the unsteadiness of his balance. "How's your head?" she asked.

He touched his temple, trying to ignore the throbbing behind his eyes. Although it was better, it was still there, interfering with his functioning. "It's...okay," he lied.

He changed his shirt and she followed him out of the room. He diverted to the kitchen, where he stopped in front of the coffee pot and looked up at the cabinet over the refrigerator. Several mostly full bottles waited for him behind those doors. Then he shifted his gaze to his partner, dismissed the idea and poured himself a cup of coffee. Normally, he added cream but not this morning. As he walked into the living room, he spilled some of the hot, black liquid over his hand. He didn't notice, the pain in his head eclipsing that of the mild burn across his fingers.

He set the cup on the coffee table and retrieved his laptop from his desk. Nugent watched Goren, who didn't seem to notice him. He shifted his eyes to Eames, who looked back at him. "Bobby," Nugent began. "You okay?"

Goren opened his laptop before he looked at Nugent. He studied the FBI agent for a moment, as if tying to figure out why he was there. "Good morning, Jeff," he said after a significant pause. "I, uhm, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Nugent asked, noting the dark bruises on Goren's face.

Goren rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the time. "What are you...I mean, why, why are you still here?"

"Just helping out. Alex can't watch these cameras and look after you by herself."

"I don't need a babysitter," Goren grumbled, looking at his partner.

"No, but you have a head injury that might be serious," she answered.

"I'm fine," he protested, turning his attention to the computer.

Eames wanted very much to smack him on the back of the head, but she didn't want to take the chance of making his head injury worse. Instead, she sat down beside Nugent and turned her attention to the cameras. Nugent followed her lead and Goren focused his attention on the laptop in front of him.

Aside from the tapping of the computer keys and the soft hum of the monitors behind the couch, the room was silent.

Nugent felt himself beginning to nod as lunchtime rolled around. He shifted in his chair. Eames touched his arm. "Why don't you go home, Jeff?"

He looked toward the couch, where Goren was still working on the laptop. He shook his head. "Nah. I'm good. How about lunch?"

She gave him a grateful smile. "That's sounds like a plan," she said.

Smiling back, he asked, "Tuna sandwich?"

"Sure."

"Bobby?"

At the sound of his name, Goren turned his head. "Hmn?"

"Tuna for lunch?"

"Oh, uh...yeah, sure." He paused. "Uhm, you want a hand?"

"Why not," Nugent replied, figuring it would be good for the detective to shift his focus for a little while.

While they were working, Eames monitored the cameras. "Jeff?" she called.

"Yeah?"

"When did Kenneth leave the building?"

"What? He didn't."

"Then why is he coming back?"

The two men looked at each other, then abandoned the sandwiches. Goren stepped up behind her, watching Kenneth walk from the elevator to his apartment. "Uh...pull up the cameras from this morning. Find out when he left. Start with the hallway."

She tapped the keys on the keyboard in front of her. They watched the camera replay on fast forward, looking for Kenneth/ They watched her and Goren arrive. The camera replay continued to roll. They watched Malicek leave. Moments later, Kenneth Martin left his apartment; they had missed it. Malicek got into the elevator and Kenneth entered the stairwell.

Goren got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His hands tightened on the back of his partner's chair. "The lobby," he murmured in her ear.

She brought up the lobby camera and picked up Malicek as she exited the elevator. Seconds later, Kenneth followed from the stairwell. As she got to the lobby door, he looked around and stepped up behind her.

He turned for a second as he pulled something out of his pocket and looked up directly into the camera. A small smile played at his mouth before he turned and went after Malicek.

"No," Goren murmured. "No, no, no..."

He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Come on...answer, answer..."

"Hello," answered an unfamiliar voice, hoarse from disuse.

Goren looked at the display on his phone. "Who...who is this?"

Unnoticed by Nugent and the detectives, the camera on the screen furthest from them showed Kenneth, talking on a cell phone, walk quickly down the hall and enter the stairwell. "I'm surprised you don't know me by now, Detective Goren," he said.

Goren's nausea increased. "Kenneth..." he said as he began to pace. "But not Martin. Not Kenneth Martin. Your name is Michaels."

Kenneth was silent for a stunned moment. "Impressive. Do you know where I am?"

"You were just in your apartment," Goren said as he started for the door, but he stopped suddenly, turning, pacing. "But not now...you've left, haven't you?"

"As soon as you called, I knew I had to go. You're good, very good. Excellent, even. Much better than I thought you would be. Feel free to explore the apartment. I won't be back. But I've got to hang up now, detective. Lovely Agent Corrine Malicek needs me and I should get back to her."

"Wait!"

The line went dead. Enraged, he threw the phone against the wall across the room. "He's not here, not in his apartment," he said, fists clenched tight. "And he's got Malicek."