A/N - Thanks for all the reviews! You all are so very nice! -- Sarah

Chapter Two

The Day After

I'll admit it. I was being a little intrusive, but she was late. Eight minutes late to be exact. It took me about two of those minutes to Google his name. Don't worry, I was smart enough to use someone else's computer. Who knows how many times Eames uses the history button on ours.

Anyhow, I had to at least check the guy out. It was my partner he had taken out last night. Besides, in my line of work, you tend to learn that you can never be too careful.

No Priors. I can tell you that. No so much as a parking ticket. Jackson McCullogh had come from a modest family in a small Missouri town, then worked his way through a prestigious, private college, til he, with the right connections, found himself in one of New Yorks finest law firms. He was a stand up citizen if there ever was one. He did tons of probono, heck, he even worked in soup kitchens on Christmas eve. Yes, there was no doubt he was perfect for Eames.

Perfectly bland.

He just didn't seem to fit. Not with her. But then, I hadn't even suspected that she had wanted to date. It made me wonder what else I hadn't noticed.

I can't help myself as my eyes drift over to her side of the desk. Methodically, I began searching out various items of hers. There was the Santa mug in the middle, jammed with pens, paper clips and whatnot. Then the framed pictures of her family that smiled up to where she sat. There was always something to show that the desk was hers, unlike my side, which was completely devoid of any personal effects. My gaze then passed over the standard items. Our stapler, a small magnifying glass, and the tape dispenser by the phone.

And that's when I saw it. Though it was small, its gold color blared in contrast against the black desktop. No bigger than a Monopoly piece, was the tiniest statue of a bird with its wings outstretched sitting next to the phone.

It was the first time I had ever noticed it.

I didn't get to study it long though, because Alex came breezing around the desk a moment later. My surprise must have showed because she then smiled apologetically.

"Traffic was backed up."

I could only nod my head. It was apparent she was in a good mood despite the fact. Her lips held the faintest hint of a smile and she just seemed lighter somehow. The feeling of it kind of resonated around her and I felt a twinge of something unknown.

She must of caught me studying her because she stopped in the middle of pulling off her coat to stare at me suspiciously. "What?"

"Nothing." Something. Instead of looking at her, I gaze down to my hands. "So, I guess your date went well last night." I was seriously testing the waters here.

I looked up in time to see her bite her bottom lip, that faint smile from earlier threatening to spill over. So much so, she too had to look down to her hands for a moment.

"It went okay," she answered finally.

It was more than okay judging by the look on her face. I've seen my partner fake blushing before, but nothing compares to the real thing. This was all really odd. Before I knew it though, she plopped down in her seat unceremoniously, her manner no longer flustered.

"So, what's on today's agenda?" Then, on a quiet side note she added, "God, I hope it's not more paperwork."

That's right, we had work to do. Shaking my head at my straying mind, I then proceeded to shove the case file Deakins had handed me earlier over to her.

"Jeffrey Keady, 39. His wife found him in their living room twenty minutes ago." Seeing her odd look, I grinned knowingly. "He's the son of one of Carver's golf buddies. Anyways, they're waiting for us on the scene."

She didn't need to hear any more as she stood and replaced her coat and started for the door. "I never thought I'd be so happy for a murder," she threw over her shoulder as she passed another detective with a stack of papers piled up hopelessly on his desk.

I couldn't help but smile as I followed her out. Now that was the Eames I knew.

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You'd think that with a dead man with a bludgeoned head laying out before you, you'd be pretty focused on the task at hand. Not me though. Well, not that I was completely useless at the moment. I mean, we'd already figured out what had been used to kill him. It was a hammer, a ballpien hammer to be exact. Found it in the dumpster. And it wasn't like I was looking out the window trying to figure out what animal shapes I thought the clouds looked like. You wouldn't even be able to see clouds from the apartment, anyways.

No, I just wasn't quite as focused as I normally am. Sure, I went through all the motions, asked all the questions I thought pressing to Carly (The wife of the dead man), and throroughly examined the body. Hell, we even have a suspect in mind already. It seems Mr. Keady was seen in a scuffle with one of his business associates just two days ago. But through all of this, my mind kept involuntarily going back to one thing ---

That damn bird on Eames' desk.

Don't ask me why. I still haven't figured it out. My mind would be taking in all these details about the case and then, in between each clue, it would somehow reverse back to that little gold statue by the phone.

Jeffrey was wealthy, but not overly so ---

I wonder how long that bird has been sitting there? ---

Mrs. Keady seems genuinly distressed over her husband's slaying. ---

It looks antigue. I'm pretty sure it's pure gold. ---

The business associate's name is Brian Clemmings, works in accounting. ---

Maybe I should ask Eames where it came from. ---

On and on, it would continue back and forth like this. It even got to a point where I had to stop for a moment during the search of the house and rub my temples wearily. But, even through all of this, we did eventually get through the search, though I don't think it was really up to our usual standards.

Now, as I'm sitting here on the passenger side of the SUV, it's unusually quiet. I mean, normally it's quiet because I'm thinking about a case, but right now, it's because I'm still thinking about the significance of that little bird.

Finally, I turn to look at Eames. I couldn't take any more of these plaguing thoughts. Before I could say anything though, her voice cuts through my decisiveness.

"Did you think there was anything...odd about her? Carly, I mean." She's doesn't turn to me as she asks it, just continues to stare thoughtfully on the road ahead.

"I'm not sure," I answer honestly. Her question kind of surprised me and I can tell she is really thinking about it. "Why?"

She sighs a little before shaking her head. "I don't know. Something just feels off with her. It's probably nothing."

Never doubt a woman's intuition, that I have learned, and this makes me wonder about Mrs. Keady myself. I'm about to say so, but Eames has become quiet once more, so I move on with a question of my own.

"How long has that bird been on your desk?" The question is out of the blue, but I had to know.

Her face scrunches up in confusion for a moment, before she glances over to me. "That little gold one?" After I nodded my head, she turned back to the road clearly perplexed. "I guess about three months."

Three months. For three months it has been sitting right in front of me and I hadn't even noticed it.

"My mom found it the last time I went to visit," she continued on without warning. "It belonged to my grandmother. I remember it used to sit on the corner of her mantel, kind of hidden behind some of her pictures, but I always managed to find it."

I watched her lips curl up in a smile at the memory before she went on.

"She used to call me her little bird. She always said I used to flit around here and there, never stopping. Anyways, my mom found it in some old boxes and thought I would want it."

She had never told me that before. I wonder why. Oh well, maybe now I could finally get some work done.

"It's kinda funny you ask because I was just telling Jackson about that last night."

Or not.

I'm getting that odd twinge of a feeling again, but I don't know what it is. It almost feels like there's a large stone resting in the pit of my stomach, but why would I feel like that?

Eames must be oblivious to my tangled thoughts because she's once again looking back to the road, that small smile on her face again. I like it when she smiles like that, it's nice on her. But then again, I don't like it either. None of this makes any sense, does it?

Then, I couldn't help but think of what else she had told Jackson on their date last night. Other little things about her life that I didn't know. Which sounds really bad since I've known her for four years and work with her every day and he's only known her a week, probably.

I think the stone's getting larger by the moment.

Gazing back over to her, I pause before asking one last question. "So, you're going to see him again?"

Not looking at me, she just continued to smile. "Friday night."

I think the stone just smothered me into oblivion.