274 Days
By Tres Mechante

Summary: They were as intimately connected as two people could be, and now Alex is alone. She thinks no one knows, but she should have known she couldn't hide from her partner.

Spoilers: Vague early season 3. No specific or easily identifiable episodes, but there is the whole surrogate mother thing. Govern yourself accordingly.

A/N: This story was whispered to me by my muse around Mother's Day while watching a few early season 3 episodes. The title refers to the average length of a pregnancy from conception to birth. I have no information about specific members of Alex's family – including the baby – so a little creative license was used for this story. If I have erred, please do not revoke my license – I have not yet seen every episode so there may be gaps in my knowledge. Besides, I only wrote what my muse told me to.

Disclaimer: Law & Order: Criminal Intent does not belong to me – none of it. No financial gain is being made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended. The only profit is in getting this story out of my dreams so I can sleep. Characters will be returned none the worse for having come out to visit for awhile.

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Part 1 – Suspicion


All week there had been something off kilter in her behavior – quicker temper, sharper tongue, fewer smiles. Behaviors that peeked out with increasing frequency, but nothing that would alarm anyone around her. Except her partner.

--- --- ---

Detective Bobby Goren thought back to the first time he noticed a change in her behavior. They were talking at a murder scene when something caught her attention. Eames had abruptly turned and walked away – but not before he had seen something flash in her eyes, a strong emotion that passed too quickly to identify. Bobby turned to see what had caused it, but only saw a normal street scene – shops with Mother's Day displays, pedestrians, some street vendors. And yet, a shiver of apprehension rippled down his spine.

From that moment on, Bobby placed Alex Eames under surveillance.

For more than a week he devoted considerable thought to the problem, sorting and interpreting the evidence he gathered and observations made. By late Saturday night he decided to play his hunch and confront his partner.

--- --- ---

It had been a hell of a week. Emotionally and physically exhausted, Alex got ready for bed. Just as she turned out the kitchen light there was a knock at her door. She hesitated, wondering who would show up unannounced so late at night. Grabbing her gun, she silently crept closer and peeked through the peephole. With a heavy sigh she threw open the door. "Dammit Bobby! What the hell do you want at this hour?"

Bobby cautiously entered her apartment and shut the door behind him. Alex stood a few feet away, arms crossed in annoyance, gun still in hand. "Um...Eames? Do-do you think you could...put that away?" he asked, indicating her side arm. "Or are you planning to shoot me?"

"Depends why you're here." She reset the gun's safety and set it down. Then, seeming to realize how she was dressed, she quickly pulled her robe closed.

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," he said.

Eames looked up in surprise. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"If you want to hide something, don't answer a question with a question," he teased.

Refusing to be drawn in, she merely said, "That's not an answer."

Bobby took a deep breath. Getting in the door was easy enough, but now came the tricky part. Not sure quite how to proceed, he decided to just jump right in. "You haven't really been yourself lately, Eames" he began. "I- I've noticed some...things...aberrations in your behavior lately and...well...putting together the-the evidence..."

Alex quickly cut him off. "Evidence? What – have I been under surveillance or something?" At Bobby's slight flinch, Alex exploded. "Jesus Bobby! What gives you the right to pry into my life?"

"You're my partner and-and you're my friend. I..." Caught off guard by the depth of her reaction, Bobby struggled for a moment, searching for the right words. "I...care that you are hurting."

As quickly as her temper flared, it died down. She gave a deep sigh, lowering her eyes to the floor. "You wouldn't understand, Bobby. As freakishly intuitive as you can be...you can't possibly..."

Bending a little to try to look into her eyes, Bobby pleaded. "Then...then help me to understand." He then did something he rarely ever did. "Please, Alex." He called her by her given name – and she could not, would not deny him.

"You're not planning to leave any time soon are you?" she asked, although it was more a statement than a question. Moving down the hall to her room she called over her shoulder, "It's too late at night for coffee. Herbal tea. You know where the kettle is." And with that she walked into her bedroom and closed the door.

Emerging a few minutes later in jeans and sweatshirt, she entered the kitchen and picked up her mug. "I'm fine, Bobby." At his skeptical look she admitted, "okay, maybe not right now, but I will be. It's nothing I can't handle."

They settled in the living room, Alex curled up in a chair and Bobby sprawled on the sofa. Neither spoke. Silence settled over them like a heavy blanket – almost oppressive, rather than the comfortable silences they usually shared.

"Eames..."

- continued in part two -