Title: Push, Pull (6?)

Author: Alamo Girl

Rating: R- Adult situations, depictions of violence, language? You've been Warned!

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance

Disclaimer: Yes, I still do not own any of the characters from L&O: CI mentioned in this story. Dick Wolf is being stingy! The story is mine though!

Author Note- Thanks to all who read and review! I would send you all chocolate and highly caffeinated drinks, if I knew ya! I will probably put this as R on soon. But I have kept it as PG-13 on because it stays on the 'Just In' page for L&O:CI. For some reason, they don't put the R rated updated stories on the Just In page! Anyway, that is why I warn everyone at the header of the story! More Angst and introspection in this chapter, plus more Bobby/Alex interaction. Told ya I was gonna torture you guys with more angst! Thrilling, isn't it? Hang in there! Better times are a'comin!

Part 6

"Truly, it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us." Meister Eckhart (1260-1327)

"Understanding is the reward of Faith. Therefore, seek not to understand that thou mayst believe, but believe that thou mayst understand."

St. Augustine of Hippo (354-430 A.D.)

One of those days. One of those days, where one awakens to find that it is sleeting outside and you can't find your raincoat. One awakens to find no hot water, shampoo, or toothpaste - and you've got a really big meeting that morningwhere you're fairly sure your boss doesn't want to see the trees you feel you've got growing in your teeth. The coffee pot doesn't work, all that's in your fridge is a carton of milk that may date back to the Nixon administration, and probably most important - why in the hell do you have no clean underwear? Yes, this is one of those days where it would have been infinitesimally better to stay in bed, covers pulled over your head and the ringer on your phone turned off. Unfortunately, this day was rapidly mutating into something far worse than simply "One of Those Days".

Thunder bellowed overhead again as Alex leaned her head back against the head rest in the SUV. She swallowed thickly, trying to push the image of herself lying in the cold blackness, torn and bloodied, out of her weary mind. She could feel it slipping from her - her strength, her faith, her grip on reality-slowly loosening like a tether on a storm-tossed boat. She knew, when that tie gave way, she would be lost forever to the darkness. And the worst part was, she was beginning to realize that she was losing the strength to care.

Alex glanced toward Bobby and Deakins, knowing Deakins would be placing his bets on the best detective for this case. And, as always, Detective Goren was the sure-win favorite. "Why waste time and energy betting on a detective who's been having delusions and slowly losing her mind," Alex asked herself. She suddenly wondered what good she ever was as a cop. She'd been a damn good Vice cop, luring johns in with a sly smile and well placed flash of cleavage. But was that all she was good for, a nice looking piece of ass with a badge? A skirt who could temporarily distract male suspects long enough for the great Goren to swoop in and save the day? Alex scrubbed her hands over her face, as Goren made his way to the car. At one time, Alex Eames knew she made one hell of a detective, that she could kick-ass with the best of the boys and look good while doing it. But this monster in her head, giving her these terrifying visions, was also eating up her confidence in her abilities.

Goren slid into the passenger seat and Alex started the car. He relayed the conversation he and Deakins had at the crime scene, and that Deakins was under a huge amount of pressure from the mayor to find Verger's protege.

"Like we aren't under enough pressure..." Alex muttered.

Bobby looked over at her, concern etched on his face. He wasn't eager to connect with her eyes again; the scene near the body replayed itself painfully in his memory. He'd received a backlash current of searing pain when he caught her eyes, it nearly stopped his heart. Bobby was not used to these feelings of inadequacy - he'd always been able to find the answers to the puzzles and he'd taken no small measure of pride in his ability to have a firm hold on even the gravest situations. He always wanted all the answers kept neatly filed in his vast filing system of a brain, ready to be plucked out at the right time. For his ordered world to be fucked six ways to Sunday, it took something catastrophic. Such as, Nicole Wallace flipping him over and exposing his vulnerable underbelly with her own research into his psyche--or Eames, slowly slipping from his grasp. Only the latter of the two would utterly destroy Bobby Goren.

"Grief drives men to serious reflection, sharpens the understanding, and softens the heart." John Adams (1735-1826)

The Vector Room was only a block or so away from the alley where the victim was found. Absence of sufficient blood at the scene told Goren and Eames that she was not killed there-only dumped. The thought of being abandoned in that cold alley, naked and alone caused Eames to shiver as they pulled into the Vector Room's parking lot. It was an older building, probably once housed a factory or was used as a storage warehouse. The entrance had been refurbished, with huge red double-doors, entry carpet and red barrier chain. Since it was early afternoon, the bouncer was not at his post in front of the door, but Eames imagined he was the stereo-typical sort. Ano-necked, gorilla-chested, lantern-jawed goomba.

As she opened her car door to get out, Eames felt a slight electric-like jolt through her wrist as Goren's enormous hand gently stopped her. When she turned, glancing down at his hand, and then only bringing her eyes to his for a second before casting them to side, Bobby feared she may bolt again. When she allowed his hand to remain, gently enveloping her small wrist and her body heat radiated up his arm with subtle tingles, he sighed in relief, relishing the feeling of her skin under his. So enthralled with the long-missed sensation of touching her skin and marveling at how his hand engulfed hers, Bobby momentarily forgot what he stopped her for. Alex lifted a brow in silent questioning, and Bobby came out of the mind-haze her touch had sent him into.

"Uhm...are you sure you're OK? Back there, at the alley...I just..."

"Forget about it Bobby. We have a job to do here, remember? Somebody saw that girl leave. Nobody just ignores a pretty girl at a club like this, guys probably hit on her all night," she said.

"Know a lot about that, do you," Bobby cocked his head andgave her a boyish half-smile, his thumb began to unconsciously rub the top of her hand softly, "getting hit on at clubs, I mean."

Alex had become lost in the feeling of his strong hand, caressing her skin. She was so tired, so weak and so sick of feeling alone that his touch was sending a current of warmth through her arm and settled in her stomach, fluttering slightly. She desperately wanted to fall into his burly arms and sob out her secrets of the past few days until the last ounce of salt water escaped down her cheeks.

She gazed at the boyish grin he saved only for her eyes, her resolve shaking, "I wouldn't go that far..."

"I imagine you did... get the offers..." Bobby's voice became hushed, his eyes tracing over her features and his heart shouting at him to increase their contact. Dipping his head to catch her eyes, Bobby let all of his concern and rapidly growing feelings soften his intense eyes.

"Alex, I know this case has been hard for you. You're empathizing with the victims too much." Alex watched him change from Concerned-Let-Your Wall-Down and Let- Me-In Bobby, to Profiling-Interrogation Bobby as he spoke. "It's normal... most female officers, want to believe in woman victims more often. They can sympathize so much, they can actually see themselves as those women- as potential victims." Bobby stopped as he saw something in Alex's eyes change-a darkening.

"I am NOT a victim, Goren," she hissed. "Why don't you stop worrying about getting into my head, and get into the head of this sick fuck that is raping and slaughtering these women." And with that, she pulled her hand from his grasp and headed toward the doors of the Vector Room. Bobby had never failed to amaze her with his gifted perception- effectively hitting the bulls-eye of whatever she was hiding, but this time she felt penetrated with out permission. She was having a hard enough time dealing with these feelings of weakness and helplessness; she didn't need Bobby thinking she was a victim as well. The Monster Goren in her mind ran his tongue over his lips lasciviously, savoring Alex's latest violation.

Bobby had opened his mouth to stop her, but then thought over his choice of words. He'd basically belittled Alex as a competent police officer because of her gender. He had actually reduced the person he cared most about, to a gender stereotype- the typical weak little woman. As he followed her into the Vector Room, his hand rubbing angrily at the back of his neck, Bobby mentally flogged himself for verbally slapping her down and his figures still screamed at the loss of her warmth.

Inside, the Vector Room was impressively different than the shoddy warehouse facade. Neon lights ran along the guide rails near the bar and around the walls. The bar was enormous, art-deco style with chrome accents and inset lighting. It ran the entire length of the back wall; hundreds of exotic bottles brandishing a myriad of colors of liquor lined the shelves. The dance floor was also huge--Alex thought her entire apartment might easily fit into the dance area with room to spare. A metal staircase ran up the far right side of the club. Goren and Eames looked up to find that the owners had not enclosed the ceiling; instead keeping the warehouse-feel. There were several floors with balconies overlooking the club below, with iron railings and seating areas lining the second and third lofts.

Goren and Eames, putting the interlude in the car behind them, snapped into 'professional mode' as they approached the bar tender. He was young, twenty eight or so; blonde and baby faced giving him a slight resemblance to a young Brad Pitt. There were other day-workers ambling around, shelving bottles, sweeping the floors and cleaning the many mirrors that dotted the walls. Eames took the lead with the opening questions as always, Goren would jump in when he saw the right opportunity. The bar tender, Matt Young, also happened to be one of the managers- and he was also a smart-ass.

"First time anything sketchy happens in this neighborhood, I'm the first place on you cops' lists. Man, that's just wrong," Matt muttered.

"Maybe that's because you run a sketchy place," Eames quipped, she was in no mood to play with this little shit. Goren seized the opportunity to run interference for Eames and produced the Polaroid of the victim for Matt to look at.

"Do you recognize this girl, she may have been here last night," Goren questioned.

"Yeah... man...that's Annie," Matt started, paling slightly at the picture, "Annie Rogers, she's a regular. She's a grad-student at NYU, comes in here with friends nearly every weekend. She's...a real sweet girl, nottrash like so many of these other skanks that come up in here." Matt shook his head, his face screwed in disgust as he handed the photo back to Goren, "Jesus, you look at people now-a-days-- what they do...you gotta wonder what the hell God was thinkin'."

Goren studied him, his head tilted in thought--gauging and measuring his reaction to the photo and the questions with his finely tuned meter of a brain.

"Did you see who she left with last night...if she left with a-a special guy perhaps?"

Matt turned and leered at Eames, his lips tilting in a lascivious smile, "Sweet little thing like her, guys were all over her every night. She had an innocent farm girl look, but man... she could dance. I bet you get the same reaction from the guys, detective, with that body...and the cuffs. Hmmm... I bet you're wicked fun off duty."

Eames narrowed her eyes, fixing him with a death-glare that would freeze a man's balls off, "Keep it up kid, I bet you'd make an interesting play-thing for some of the guys in Attica."

Goren deflected by stepping between the kid and Eames and resumed his questioning. Alex didn't like being cut out of the interview, but she was rapidly losing her grip on her temper as it was. She backed off, looking around the club. A few of the guys working downstairs had stopped to ogle the detective. They were whispering to themselves, sending glances her way. Alex felt something cold and slimy slink up her spine, sending chills rippling over her skin. Someone was in the shadows, just off toward the stairs behind her. Alex's stomach lurched, she'd felt this presence before. The night in her apartment, when she lost the battle to the Monster Goren--and before...in the interrogation room, she'd felt it. Verger. That same inky, sickening fear that someone was seeing into her inner most thoughts - her innermost weaknesses and could use them to rape her. Just as she was turning, ever so slowly toward the source of the malevolent waves of sensation, Goren's burly form appeared behind her.

Alex jumped slightly, cursing herself. Bobby winced again, having frightened his partner for the second time that day. His interview had been off, the loss of Alex's presence at his side, adding her thoughts into the interview, had thrown his normal thought processes off kilter. He'd had a terrible flash-back to the time when she was off on leave, and he was alone, fumbling through interrogations with a mere ill-suited substitute. Bobby had turned expecting her to be at his side, and she wasn't there. Panic gripped his heart for a moment, until his eyes found her petite form and relief eased the ache.

Alex reached up and flipped a golden strand out of her eye, attempting to hide the fear that she knew Bobby would read in her eyes if she looked at him.

"Sorry, I was just looking the place over. There are a lot of secluded places Annie could have wondered off to with some guy. No one would have been able to see her, especially with the lights down." Alex nervously glanced over her shoulder, toward the stair case. Bobby watched her closely, feeling her slipping from his grasp yet again.

"Mr. Young said that this club can get pretty crowded, th-that people spill upstairs and there are... two other exits she could have used," Bobby edged nearer to Alex, entering her personal space--his bulk almost encompassing her like a shield. He had felt her fear radiating out from across the room, and his overwhelming need to be near her blotting out any care of seeming unprofessional (or worrying about personal boundaries.)

"He's been here," Alex whispered so softly Bobby had to bend his head closer to hear, "I know he's been here, Bobby. This is his hunting ground."

"He stalks them here," Bobby continued for her, equally as soft, "He probably watched from one of the balconies. He finds a small, easy prey...he-he works his way to them. He talks to them, compliments them...maybe buys them a drink or dances with them."

"He's a seducer," Alex breaths. She chanced a look at Bobby, surprised by his proximity. He's so close, almost embracing her with his sheer size. He wasgazing down at her, head tilted down--eyes softened in compassionate understanding. He felt the strand of their connection in his hands as they profiled the killer together, as if they were finally watching the same program again. Bobby wanted to wrap that strand around his wrists and dig his heals in; it was the first sign in a while that they were working in unison and he did not want to let go. He simply couldn't let go. Bobby suddenly realized that he would play this game of tug-o-war, her pushing and him pulling, forever if he had to. He didn't know if he was strong enough, but there was no giving in... no letting her go. Not ever.

"The prudence of the best heads is often defeated by the tenderness of the best hearts." Henry Fielding (1707-1754)

Bobby held the door for Alex as the made their way to the car, she lost in thought and he was lost in his new realization. The ride back to the plaza was quiet, each giving the other space to think. They rode up the elevator to the eleventh floor, and Bobby was the first to break the silence.

"We know where his hunting ground is. We know he prefers petite women...he sees them as easy prey--makes him feel strong," he looked down at Alex as they rounded the corner to the bull-pen. Her face seemed to solidify into determination, and Bobby desperately wanted to know what had been going through her mind on the way up.

They crossed the floor to their desks and Alex reached over and gathered all the photos of the eight victims, placing them in a folder.

Bobby continued, his hand coming to rest against his lips--his thoughtful pose when he was rifling through his encyclopedic stores of knowledge--looking for the minute piece of information that would make the pieces fit.

"If only we knew what he looked like. Uh...a-a sketch to put out...so women would be able to put a face to the monster. Some way...this guy needs to be brought out...before he grabs another girl...i-if he hasn't already."

Alex took in a deep, steeling breath as she looked down at the folder of horrible images. Their eyes were still screaming at her. The Monster Goren in her mind rose up behind her, his muscular arms sliding around her naked trembling body. He knew what she was thinking, and his pleasure was growing as he breathed terrible promises in her ear, his man-hood pressing painfully in her back.

She shook her head, shutting her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her decision was made.

"There is a way," she said simply. Bobby's head snapped away from his hand on his lips, his eyes questioning. But Alex had turned, walking purposely to Deakins' office.

TBC...Hang In THERE!

Don't forget to review! Tell me how I'm doing, I hope you guys are liking this, 'cause man this is hard!