Disclaimer: Goren, Eames, Deakins, and Carver aren't mine. Emily Dimitrio and Mr. Jacobson are. Thank you, Dick Wolf.

Goren, Eames, and Deakins all stood in the observation room, watching Emily Dimitrio biting her nails. They were waiting on her lawyer. They had been watching, waiting, for six hours. Goren was happy for the delay, but Eames was itching to get started.

"She has got to be the most boring person I've ever watched," Deakins said, shattering the silence. Goren looked at him sharply.

"She is fascinating," he contradicted. Deakins shrugged.

"How so?"

"She's never once looked into this mirror. Have you ever seen someone sit there for six hours and never once lift their eyes to the gigantic mirror in front of them?" Deakins saw his point.

"Okay, I'll take the bait. Why isn't she looking?" Goren stood silent for several beats, then turned to fully face the glass. Deakins and Eames waited for his response, which came quietly several minutes later.

"I don't know yet." With that, Goren strode to the door and let himself out. Eames and Deakins saw him enter the interrogation room. He leaned against the wall behind the door, as far away from Emily as he could be. She didn't try to meet his gaze, didn't acknowledge his presence in any way. Eames and Deakins watched, wondering when Goren would start. Eames knew he was in the disarming stage - he could be locked in a staring battle for hours, just trying to get the perp to back down first.

An hour later, Assistant District Attorney Ronald Carver entered the observation room. He took in the scene, and turned to Deakins, unfettered. "I've found a public defense lawyer, he's right outside." Deakins nodded and rapped on the glass. Goren came into the room.

"Sorry to break up your little - nothing, but Carver's found a lawyer." Goren looked over at Carver, who saw something in Goren's face that alarmed him. They walked out into the hall, where Carver stopped. "Is something wrong, Detective?" Goren shook his head. "Where's the lawyer?"

Ten minutes later, Emily Dimitrio sat silently by her lawyer, Mr. Jacobson who was an inexperienced man. He was pale and trembling in the presence of Detective Robert Goren - a man he'd heard was ruthless when pursuing a suspect. His client was calm in the face of Goren, and he wondered if she had any idea who he was. Goren sat across the table from the pair, his eyes roving over the trembling lawyer, and the love of his life. He pushed that out of his head. 'She is just another murderer. That's all. Crack her and get out.' Goren pushed his chair back and rose from the table.

"So, your client has nothing to say?" he asked, deciding the easier path would be to attack the lawyer.

"Apparently not," he stammered in response. Eames was perched on the edge of the table beside the lawyer.

"Maybe she should think of something, make this a little easier on us all."

"I'm really not concerned with making things easier for you, Detective." Eames cooly looked over at Emily, who had raised her eyes to meet Eames's.

"How about making it easier on yourself, Emily? I can smooth the path for you if you just tell us what happened," offered Carver, sitting in the chair next to the one Goren had abandoned. Emily merely smiled. Goren swooped down beside her, hands on the side of the table, his head cocked and his eyes boring directly into hers. She pushed her chair away from the table, away from him. He came in front of the table, closing the space she'd left between them. He leaned over her, his hands on his knees, his face inches from hers. She backed her chair up further, until she was against the wall.

"Detective, please, what are you doing?" Mr. Jacobson asked, his voice unsteady. Goren looked over to him, backing away from Emily. He strode to the other side of the room, scratching his neck. There were several minutes of silence within the room. Emily brought her chair back up to the table, acting as though she had never moved. Goren whirled around.

"Damon Sanders," he began, picking up his binder from the table and extracting a photo. He dropped it onto the table. Emily's eyes scanned it. It was the photo of her, with Damon's arm around her shoulders. "How did you know him?" He stayed across the table from Emily, his question hanging in the air.

"He was just a friend of mine," she answered, in a monotone.

"Just a friend?... No... nothing... more than that?"

"No, just a friend."

"You look very... comfortable in this picture."

"We were very comfortable with each other."

"Then how did you end up stabbing him to death?" Mr. Jacobson groaned. Emily turned her eyes on Goren, who pretended not to notice. "What took you from... this..." he jabbed his finger at the photo, "to this?" he punctuated his question by pulling out a morgue photo of Damon Sanders.

"I didn't do that," Emily replied, but her voice was the same monotone. Eames sighed. She wasn't even trying to sell it. Goren looked at her, and jerked his head towards the door.

He opened the door for Eames, and they exited quickly, Carver behind them.

"She knows we can't hold her," Eames said, mostly to Deakins but also just to vent her frustration.

"Lay into her, Goren." Deakins said. "I know this is more personal for you, but I've seen you pull this off so many times... I know you can do this. You have to." Goren just nodded and walked back into the interrogation room. Eames stayed behind, ready to come in if it looked like he needed her. 'But Deakins is right,' she thought. 'This is just what Bobby does best.'

"That's better, isn't it, Emily? Just us... and your lawyer of course." Emily didn't respond, by Mr. Jacobson smiled at Goren's acknowledgment of him. "I'm going to be honest, here, Emily. We don't have any evidence that you committed this crime. None, except for your picture in Damon Sanders's apartment."

"He had hundreds of pictures of girls in his apartment," Emily interjected.

"Yes, yes he did... but none of them sent my enemies to my home, tricked me into going to their homes, set up a meeting with me... you /want/ to be caught, Emily. You want to be punished for your crime."

"You and your mind games, Bobby," Emily snorted.

"Yes. Me... and my mind games. Me." Emily's eyes met his, and he looked away.

"How can you get me to confess a crime if you can't even look me in the eyes for more than two seconds?" Emily asked, her voice quiet but cutting. "Why are we here, Bobby? Because of Damon Sanders? Or because of a desperate afternoon 3 years ago?" Goren just stared down at the table. After a few beats of silence, he slammed his fist on the table and turned his back on Emily. He reached up and loosened his tie, turning back.

"I am here, Emily, because of Damon Sanders."

"Then why can't you look at me?"

"I.. I am.. I am a professional, Emily. But I'm still a... man."

"A man who was hurt?"

"Yes, Emily. Hurt."

"Is pinning this murder on me going to be your vindication? Will you be able to forget me, forget what happened, if you write me off as a simple murderer?"

"We are not here to talk about me!" Goren roared, punching the air and resisting the urge to turn over the table. Mr. Jacobson stood up.

"I think my client has given you all the information she can, and we're leaving."

"No. No we are not leaving. I'm not done here," Emily protested, crossing her arms over her chest. "Leave if you want to, I don't need a lawyer anyway." Mr. Jacobson gaped at her, but a glance at Goren made him refresh his desire to get away from the room as fast as possible. He left the room, his mind reeling.

The quiet emptiness of the room settled between detective and suspect.