Both Goren and Rodney went down. Eames pulled out the radio as she holstered her gun and ran to her partner. "Shots fired! Officer down!"

The courtyard suddenly filled with police officers. Eames dropped to her partner's side. "Bobby?"

She saw blood trickling from the side of his head and he moaned. She examined the bullet wound that tracked along his head, but it didn't seem that bad despite the amount of blood. Running her hands over his vest, she found two impact sites. In the absence of his Kevlar vest, those bullets would have been fatal. His eyelids fluttered and he raised a hand to his head. He opened his eyes and frowned at her in confusion. She was relieved to see him awake. "Stay put. There's an ambulance on the way."

"For what? Let me up, Eames. I'm ok."

She showed him her bloodied hand. "You call this ok?"

He pushed himself up to a sitting position and felt his injury. "It's fine. Just a graze."

"Do you have a handkerchief with you?"

He pulled it out and handed it to her. He watched her face as she cleaned the blood from the side of his head and face. Then she pressed the cloth against his wound. "Hold that there."

He placed his hand over hers, leaving enough room for her to slide her hand out. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Will you at least let them look at you when they get here?"

He studied her face, noting her concern and realizing she would give him no choice when the time came. "Ok, I'll let them look."

He started to get to his feet, and she grabbed his arm to help him. He stumbled slightly, but regained his footing quickly as she steadied him. When he felt steady enough to walk, he nodded at her and she released her hold on his arm. He went over to where the young killer had fallen while Eames picked up his gun and tucked it into her waistband. She joined her partner as he squatted beside Rodney and laid two fingers against his throat. Looking up at her, he shook his head. Eames closed her eyes. Another demon for his nightmares, she reflected sadly.

Goren examined the killer's body. "Eames, look at this." She squatted beside the body opposite him. He rested one arm across his knee, still holding the bloody handkerchief; his other hand was pressed against his mouth. "Do you have my gun? How many shots did I fire?"

She pulled out his gun, counted the rounds. "You fired twice."

He sat still for a moment, staring at the body. Then, gathering himself, he pointed and said, "Here, in his shoulder. This is…my bullet. This is where I aimed, to disarm him. Then here..." He pointed to the bloodied chest. "I aimed for his arm, but he turned into the path of the bullet and I hit him here, in the heart…the killing shot." She wasn't able to interpret his tone, but he rushed on. "He was hit two more times, here…and here." He indicated another entrance wound on Rodney's chest and one in his upper abdomen. "Did you fire?"

"No, I didn't."

"Where's his gun?"

They looked around until they found it. He pulled the clip out and counted out the bullets. "This is a fifteen round clip, and…one in the chamber…" He dropped the bullets into her hands. "There are fourteen rounds there…plus one…two..." He indicated the two chest shots he took, wincing when he tapped his chest. "So where did this round come from?" He pointed to his head.

Eames looked across the courtyard to where the two uniforms stood. No…She turned back to her partner. He had moved to stand where he had been when he'd gotten shot. He motioned for Eames to stand where Rodney had been. She watched his face as he replayed what had happened in his mind. He turned to look behind him, catching himself when he stumbled. She was concerned that he was still unsteady and she walked to his side, grabbing his arm. "Bobby…"

He held up a hand, looking from where the two cops stood talking andback to Rodney's body. Then he looked at his partner. "Do you know what I'm thinking?"

She nodded. "Unfortunately, I do."

The corners of his mouth moved and she understood his smile without needing to see it. She touched his arm and he nodded. "Come on," he said softly. She followed him over to where the uniforms were. He looked from one officer to the other. "Which one of you fired?"

They looked at each other, and he lost his patience. "Don't look at each other! Look at me! There are three shots unaccounted for—including this one." He held out the blood-soaked handkerchief. Neither officer answered. "Give me your guns."

Again they looked at each other. Eames stepped in. "Now. Your guns."

Reluctantly, they turned their weapons over to the two detectives. Both guns had been discharged; each had fired two shots. Goren swore. But before he could say anything, another officer approached, one wearing sergeant's stripes. "What's the problem here?"

Eames grabbed her partner's arm as he faltered again when he turned to face the sergeant. "Come on over here and sit down, Bobby."

She helped him over to one of the stone benches. The sergeant followed them. Sitting beside her partner, she looked at the sergeant. "One of your officers shot my partner," she said angrily.

"Are you sure it wasn't the suspect…"

"Yes, Sergeant. We are positive it wasn't the suspect." She pulled out her notepad. "I want names and badge numbers." She wrote them down. "We'll leave it to IAD to sort out; I'm sure they'll be here soon." Internal Affairs was always called out for an officer-involved shooting. They are going to eat this one up, she reflected with disdain. She handed the weapons to the sergeant. "Tell your captain to expect a call from my captain."

One of the patrolmen stepped forward. "We're on your side, detective. We were backing you up. What the hell…"

She cut him off. "I'll tell you 'what the hell!' One of you fired off a wild shot and hit my partner in the head. What are you, rookies?"

The officer looked over his shoulder at his partner. She shook her head. "In any event, you both have to stand responsible for your actions, officer. You are just damn lucky you didn't kill him. I don't know if you panicked or what happened but you are going to take responsibility for this, whichever one of you fired that shot. This is not how you back up a fellow officer!" She was done with them. "Get the hell out of here."

She turned back to her partner, surprised to see amusement on his face. "What are you smirking at, Goren?"

"I'm just glad not to be on the receiving end of that temper."

"Detectives?" They turned to face Father Sean. "I heard the sirens, and I saw what happened. Are you ok, Detective Goren?"

"I'm fine, Father," he answered as Eames looked past the priest, to where he had laid his jacket over Rodney's chest and head.

"You have a better heart than I do, Father," she said.

He followed her gaze. "I knew him, Detective, before he became the monster you saw." He looked at Goren. "You gave him every chance."

Brown eyes turned to meet the priest's. "He didn't want any chances. He just wanted peace."

Father Sean nodded. "You've given him that now. He would have had it no other way."

They watched the priest head across the courtyard in the direction of the rectory. Goren leaned forward, arms on his knees, studying his hands. Eames wondered how much Rodney's peace was going to cost her partner. She saw the paramedics enter the courtyard and leaned forward to look at his face. "Let the paramedics look at you," she said softly.

He just nodded. One of the paramedics sat beside him, examining the scalp wound. He opened his first aid kit and bandaged the wound. "You could use a couple of stitches, Detective. How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Any dizziness or pain?"

He shook his head. "I feel fine. It hurts some, like a headache, but that's all."

"Let me take a look at your chest, while we're at it. Let's get this vest off." He helped Goren take off the vest and lift up his shirt. He studied the already extensive bruising. Gently pressing over the areas where the bullets had impacted, he gauged the detective's pain response to the pressure. "Better get this looked at, too. You might have fractured a rib. We could take you in, if you want."

"No thanks. My partner can take me in later. We still have work to do here."

"If you're sure…"

He nodded. "I'm sure." He got up from the bench and walked off.

Eames watched him go, then looked at the paramedic. "He's ok?"

"Seems to be. Like I said, he could use a couple of stitches, but it's a superficial injury. He's going to hurt for a week or two, but he'll be fine. He got lucky."

She nodded. "Very lucky."

The paramedic nodded toward the body. "The ME's already been called."

She nodded. "Thanks."

She watched the paramedic leave, but she fought down the impulse to go and find Goren. If she knew her partner, he would want some time with the dark thoughts that were his alone. She was willing to give him that time. There were enough cops around to let her know if he ran into any trouble. So she sat there, on the cold stone bench, feeling utterly alone.

"Alex?"

She looked up, having no idea how long she'd sat there. "Captain…"

He sat beside her. "What the hell happened, Alex? I got a call saying my detectives had been involved in a shooting and one of you had been hit."

She noticed his look of concern directed toward her bloody hand and the bloody handkerchief that sat on her partner's Kevlar vest. "No, it wasn't me. I'm fine. Bobby…was hit by one of ours."

"One of our what?"

Slowly, more because she was struggling to control her emotions—her fear and her rage—than for any other reason, she explained what had happened. Finally, she said, "Rodney fired two bullets, both hit Bobby in the chest, but he was wearing his vest. A third bullet grazed his head, and that one was fired by one of the two patrolmen who were standing over by the gate. Two other shots fired by the patrolmen hit the suspect, but the killing shot was Bobby's. He wasn't aiming to kill…" She trailed off. Deakins knew Goren well enough to know this was not going to sit well with the big detective.

"Where is he?"

"Let's go find him."