A/N: Sorry...I had to replace this chapter...I forgot part of it. My bad :-)

Goren leaned back on the couch and stretched. On the easy chair across from him, Eames popped the last bite of her egg roll into her mouth. He took a drink from his beer, dropped the folder he'd had in his lap on the coffee table and picked up another folder from the couch beside him. "How many times are you going to read those files?"

"Until I find what I've been missing."

She sighed. This was going to be one of those cases. He was having trouble getting in, but once he did get in, she was going to have a hell of a time getting him out. "Bobby…" She waited for him to look at her. "Take a break. Step back from it. You're trying too hard."

"Trying too hard? What's trying too hard, Eames? There's a serial killer out there and he's not going to stop leaving us bodies until we figure him out and catch him. The sooner we do that, the fewer bodies we'll end up with. We're five days away from the next body and no closer to the killer than we were when we started."

She knew he was frustrated and that frustration was fueling his anger. "Don't get mad at me. I know what we have to do. I just don't want you to lose your mind doing it."

"I'm not going to lose my mind."

"Damn right, you're not. Now put that file down and take a break."

"We can't afford…"

"Yes, we can. Don't argue with me. You never win."

He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. She was right. He rarely won an argument with her and he hated to fight with her. Besides, he wasn't mad at her. He was mad at himself. Halfway to the next body and they were no closer to the killer than they had been when they started. Five murders, each in a different borough, each a little different than the one before…but he was positive they were dealing with one killer. Even Eames was beginning to question that, but he wasn't. There was just one killer, and he had a score to settle…with someone. He threw the file on the table in angry frustration.

She took that as her cue to pack it in for the night. This was going to get them nowhere. They were both tired and short-tempered, and she didn't want to fight with him; neither of them handled that well. "It's late. I'm going home."

She got up and walked to the door, taking her jacket from the coat rack. Then she realized how that had sounded and she knew how he would interpret it. Turning to look at him, she saw the conflicted emotion in his face she expected to see. "Relax, Goren. I'm not mad. I'm just tired. I'll see you in the morning. Will you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Get some sleep. You'll think clearer if you're not a zombie."

That got a smile. "All right. I promise I'll try."

"You'd better do more than try, or I'll bring a baseball bat over and use it as a sleeping pill."

He chuckled softly at the teasing threat. "I'll do my best."

She smiled. "Good night, Bobby."

She left the apartment and walked down the hall to the elevator. She hoped he would get some rest. She knew he didn't need much, but he wouldn't function on no sleep at all. She looked over her shoulder toward his door as she got on the elevator. Her partner had a secure place deep in her heart. He was brilliant but vulnerable, and she felt a need to protect him, to take care of him… She wondered about that as the elevator descended to the ground floor and she walked to the car. Why did she feel that way? At first glance, it would seem to be the other way around. He always watched out for her, protected her when things began to get out of hand. He was always there. But under that powerful exterior, she knew demons lurked. What she didn't realize was that she was the one, the only one, who kept those demons at bay and prevented them from consuming him once and for all. She slid the key into the lock and looked up at the building toward his window. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was watching, making sure she got safely to the car. Placing her fingers on her lips, she blew him a kiss then slid behind the wheel, started the car and drove off.

Three floors up, he watched her drive off as he leaned against the wall by the window. He smiled at her gesture of affection and gently blew a kiss back to her, though he knew she couldn't see him. But she would know. He had no doubt of that.

He went back into the living room and cleaned up the remnants of their dinner. Then he gathered the files together and stacked them on the coffee table. He stared at the neat pile of five files, stacked on his portfolio. This perp had not yet put enough of himself into his crimes for him to get ahold of. He was trying, but there was nothing much to grab. He was frustrated beyond words. He felt like he was trying to gather a handful of dry sand into a ball. The grains just kept sifting formlessly through his fingers. He reached toward the files, but stopped just short of them. His partner's voice sounded in his head. Get some sleep. He'd promised. Turning off the light with a sigh, he headed toward the bedroom to keep his promise to her and try to get some sleep.

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Eames walked into the squad the next morning, not surprised to see her partner already at work. She set a cup of coffee in front of him and dropped a brown paper bag onto his desk. He looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks. Sorry about last night."

"Forget it. I know you're frustrated. Do you think I'm not?" She sat down with her own coffee and pulled a danish from the white wax bag she had. "I want to solve this as badly as you do. But if the path isn't there, Bobby, you aren't going to lay it down yourself."

"I know. But there's got to be something here, Eames."

She leaned toward him. "No, there doesn't. Look, we have no witnesses at all. We don't even know who these guys are. We can't exactly put their morgue photos all over the TV and announce 'If this is your husband or your son, give us a call.'"

"We can't go public with it anyway. It would tip our hand that we've connected the homicides. If he thinks we don't know what he's done, he'll get careless."

"He hasn't yet."

"But he will. And that's when we'll get him."

"Sooner rather than later, I hope."

He took a bite of the sandwich she'd brought him and turned back to the files. She watched him for a minute before he looked up at her. "What?"

"You slept."

He gave her one of his half-smiles. "I promised, didn't I?"

"You look better. Thanks."

He handed her a file. "Maybe you can find something I can't."

She laughed. "Fat chance, Bobby. Since when do you miss anything?"

But she opened the file and humored him. And they spent another fruitless day reviewing the files until they knew them by heart. There was a good reason he wasn't finding what he was looking for. It wasn't there.