13

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Dick Wolf, Rene Balcer, and NBC, inc.

A/N: So I am sharing this with you because I can't quite figure if this is a fanfiction thing or something else. The number of hits I have had on this story has consistently been 450-650. For this last chapter, it was 65. Now that is a drop. I am thinking maybe the last chapter didn't work for people, but I think that would be reflected by lack of reviews more than lack of hits. I'm supposed to not care about this stuff, and I try not to, but I am stymied by it.

In any event, this chapter is in the realm of too much plot and too much skin. I apologize in advance for anything that might offend. Thanks to the 65 of you who are still with me. I love hearing from you.

Sheila

Control

Chapter 18

Bobby sat hunched over at the kitchen table next to the dead body. The techs knew Goren well enough to understand what he needed, and they left the kitchen with him for the moment. Even Logan gave him a wide berth although he would easily admit that dead bodies were never something he wanted too much of. Goren wore tension like an old suit tonight, and people knew it. The techs busied themselves in other parts of the house, and Barak, Logan, Deakins, and Carver settled themselves in the living room. The family was gone. They had been taken by officers fifteen minutes ago amid wails of a grieving wife, and the confused, frightened cries of three small children. Squads were going to rendezvous with FBI in Brooklyn who had a safehouse for the displaced family.

The conversation in the living room was almost nonexistent. Contained rage was taking everyone's energy, and they were all waiting for the inevitable explosion.

The first movement was Bobby who knelt next to the body again. He had stopped looking for clues that didn't exist. Instead, he seemed to be communing with the dead man. Finally, he sighed and stood up. He walked past them in the living room, and headed out the front door, his overcoat flapping against the door. Logan went to the window and looked out. Goren was standing under a street lamp, pacing back and forth, his hands bunched in fists. Logan turned and gestured at a tech in the hallway, "The body's all yours." Then he went back to sit down next to Barak on the couch.

Carver broke the silence. "This has gone past the point of reason. Now we have to postpone the trial so that we can investigate this latest atrocity. This will only give Ross more opportunity for mayhem. This is unacceptable."

Logan snorted, "Yeah, what you said except without the proper English."

"We gotta find out who Ross hired. There's got to be a way we can connect him." Deakins could barely sit still.

"I say we just kill him," Logan growled.

"I can't hear that and not do something about," responded Carver with some irritation.

"Knock yourself out, Counselor," Logan replied.

Barak stood up. "I'll start canvassing the neighborhood." Logan took her cue and followed her out the door. Bobby was still pacing under the streetlight, but neither approached him; they knew to give him plenty of space.

It was just the day previous that the corpse was a man walking into the squadroom. Many recognized him but no one greeted him. It was incumbent on him to stand in front of Goren's desk and ask for a few minutes of his time. It was difficult for Bobby to hide his distaste for the man who was Jimmy Ross's lawyer. He stood up tall before the man, his eyes hard, and the man took a step back and stammered. "Ah, we should probably include your captain in this, and Ron Carver is on his way down."

Bobby did nothing more than gesture at his boss's office and follow the man inside. Carver walked in just as they were getting seated. He started things. "This is highly irregular, but you said it was urgent so what can we do for you, Mr. Bloom?"

Bloom took a deep breath. "Mr. Ross is no longer my client. He fired me yesterday afternoon."

Carver's eyebrows rose. "Interesting."

"I have gone over this for three days even while I was retained. Ross is still a client at my firm; my partner took over, and I am pretty sure I am on shaky legal ground with what I am about to tell you."

Bloom looked down at the floor for a moment. "I am pretty sure I'll be fired and brought before the bar association, but I have three small children whom I love deeply, and I would prefer these outcomes to spending the next ten to fifteen years in jail."

The air was electric with tension. No one spoke as if fearing a disruption might derail the man's confession.

"As you know, Ron, as Ross's criminal attorney, I was given charge of the release of his assets. He would tell me what he needed and I would sign the checks and send them out."

Carver nodded.

"A week ago, he requested that a check be cut for an individual for $25,000. I asked him for details, but he was sketchy at best. I have discretion in my role to refuse especially if I have concern that the money will be used in the commission of a crime. I had no such evidence of such, but I was wary. We are all aware of Ross's instability. Anyway, I did background on the person receiving the check, and found nothing of interest. She's a waitress in the Bronx so I let the check pass."

Bobby interrupted. "You didn't know what it was for."

"Technically, I have to have grounds before I can refuse a request and I had none. A couple of days after the check was sent out, I got a phone call from her. She was frantic. She said that Jimmy promised cash. She said she couldn't cash the check. I didn't understand the problem, but she insisted that I put together cash for her, and that her boyfriend would come pick it up. Naturally, I found this to be unacceptable. I talked to Jimmy who became quite escalated, insisting that I convert cash immediately for her. I told him I needed to investigate the situation further. That's when he fired me and called my partner. This morning I saw an associate leave the office with a large amount of cash, he was counting it in his office when I walked in. I went to my partner, but he says that Jimmy wants me to have no further information about the case. I told my partner my suspicions, but he told me that there was no compelling reason to refuse his request and that our role was not to investigate our clients."

"You have suspicions about what he might be paying this woman to do?" Deakins leaned forward.

"After my conversation with my partner, I called a friend at Riker's Island." He looked at Goren. "Yes, detective, I do have friends in law enforcement. I asked him to check to see if this woman was a visitor for anyone there. He called me back and said she was a weekly visitor for someone named Brent Tucci. He told me that Tucci was in for two murders in the Bronx and a suspect in three others. He said that Tucci had mob ties. It was enough. I came straight here. I think Ross ordered a hit, and with the antipathy he has toward Detective Eames, I can only conjecture that it is for her."

Bobby was on his feet, and Deakins winced as he imagined the big detective punching through the glass in his office, but the detective restrained himself.

Bloom looked up at him. "I should have gone to my partner first; that's how the bar will see it and that's how the partners in my firm will see it, but I know Ross better than they do. I also know we would sit on it for days exploring legal precedent and we would be legally right to do that. I know it's hard for some people to understand why I defend people like Jimmy Ross, but I am not a bad man, and I will not be even remotely associated with a murder, and my gut tells me that's what we're talking about here."

Carver let out breath. "David, I understand better than anyone here the risks you're taking, and I applaud your actions. It is most certain that you would have been able to make a case for sitting on this information. It is with great character that you come forward. I will not forget this, and will do what I can to support you in any charges that might come your way."

Deakins strode to the door and yelled, "Logan! Barak! Get in here!" He ushered them in and gave a quick rundown. "You two need to go visit Tucci. Goren, you have the waitress. Carver and I will take the partners. Bloom, you coming with us?"

Bobby stopped his pacing outside the Bloom house. Yesterday seemed so long ago. They had interviewed everyone; Bobby himself had the waitress in interrogation for four hours until he was satisfied that she was nothing more than the messenger. She had dropped the money at an address, but hadn't met anyone. It was gone by the time Bobby got there, but he put uniforms on it anyway.

They spent that day and most of the evening hitting walls on every lead they tried. Today had been no different. Someone from Tucci's mob family probably had the hit, but they couldn't get a handle on who the money went to. Bloom had called Bobby not three hours earlier to get an update on the investigation. Bloom was home with his family. He didn't sound like a man who had just been fired. Instead he sounded like a man who was feeling good about himself for the first time in a very long time. The next Bobby heard from that house was the 7th precinct calling to let them know that a man had rung the doorbell, walked past the wife, and cornered David Bloom in the kitchen. He shot him three times in front of his kids and then turned around and walked out. As it was with most traumatic events, Bloom's wife was unable to give much of a description and his children weren't able to say much at all, but would spend their rest of their lives trying to make sense of this moment.

More and more it felt like Jimmy couldn't be stopped by prison or anything else. It wasn't a question of prosecution. The evidence would pile up to the ceiling. Jimmy Ross wasn't ever going to leave a jail cell. It was that he would use the trial and his resulting sentence to continue to lash out at the people who put him there. There would be measures that would help; freezing his assets, solitary confinement, but it was the fact that he continued to destroy people's lives unhindered that tore at Bobby's rage.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around, blinking. Barak was there. "Bobby, we're working on the canvas. I could use some help with the north side of the street."

He nodded once.

"Bobby, he's going down and we have restrictions in place. Soon he'll be just a memory."

He snorted. "Yeah, and we'll be the Keystone Cops who couldn't stop him from killing even after he was incarcerated."

"He's erratic, unpredictable. We had no reason to believe that the hit would be on Bloom."

Bobby shook his head. "This is only one of the hits he has planned. They were paid for more than one hit."

"Alex is out of harm's way."

He nodded. "For now she is."

"You would be somebody Ross would want to get rid of. Have you thought of that? Are you being careful?"

He looked at her. "I'm not at the top of his list and he can't go after everyone. You said the north side right? I'll take it until the end of the block and then we'll compare notes. Okay?"

……………………………………………………………………………..

The canvas, talking to witnesses, and hunting down Tucci's gang took the whole night. It was 8 a.m. before they got back to the squad looking worn and irritable. Deakins told them they were to brief day shift and go home for at least 6 hours of sleep. He gave Bobby a hard look and they all knew he would go to the mat on this one. Logan and Barak took his cue immediately, and headed for home.

Bobby fell into the chair at his desk, and reached for his notes. He needed to update while everything was still fresh in his mind. His eye caught a glimpse of red, and he looked across his desk to hers and saw a red scarf hanging on her chair. It was a very familiar red scarf. His eyes darted about the room, but he didn't see her. He got up and circled around the desk to pick it up. He tried to imagine the circumstances under which the scarf would have ended up here. He breathed it in, and the smell of her floated through the soft wool.

A familiar chuckle sounded. "I didn't know you were so into winter accessories."

He whirled around to find her walking toward him from across the room. "Eames!"

Heads went up around the room. Deakins came out of his office.

She smiled warmly. In fact everything about her was warm. Her hair was blonder, her skin smoothly tan, and that familiar look of cool conviction had returned to her face.

"What are you doing here?" Bobby couldn't seem to control the tenor of his voice.

"I didn't move there permanently, you know. It's been six weeks. We did some good work, and I've had so much rest I could go crazy. So I'm back. We have a trial next week. I have to prep."

"You didn't call! When did you get back?"

She was startled by his tone. "I got back yesterday."

He closed his eyes. "My God! Did you sleep in your apartment?"

She nodded. "Uh, yeah. I suppose I should have called, but I was just taking it slow."

Bobby turned to Deakins. "I never took into account the fact that she might be coming back this week."

"Its okay, Bobby. Nothing happened. She's fine."

Hurt and confusion reflected on her face. "I don't understand what's going on."

He put a hand up and backed up. "I need a minute." With that, he turned and headed for the stairs.

Deakins gestured to her. "Come in. I have a lot to tell you about."

……………………………………………………………

She found him in a room setting up the evidence from the Bloom household; he was planning to camp out. He looked up at her and winced, "I shouldn't have been so hard on you."

She nodded. "The captain gave me some perspective. You've been through a lot. I'm sorry."

"There's not going to be a trial for awhile. Carver's getting it postponed. You should go back to California. Take your time. Sit in the sun some more."

"Wow! That was classic. I didn't realize you were such a master of the brush off."

He frowned. "I wasn't trying---"

"Enough. You're tired. I told the captain I would take you home."

"You're not going back to your apartment. You're staying….with me, I suppose, until we find some place safe."

She shook her head, chuckling. "Well, with an invitation like that, how can I say no? I suspect we're moving on to the part where you tell me that you have to save me from you. Jimmy's got a contract out on my life and you have one on my heart."

"Alex—"

"Uh-uh, let's get you home first. We're not having this conversation here."

…………………………………………………

She climbed into bed with him, and Bobby thought he was going to explode. He had made every effort to politely indicate that they give each other space, and then she explicitly ignored him and climbed into his bed.

"I need to sleep," he warned her.

"That's a good plan. Captain has the shift rounding up people from Tucci's gang. We're going to let them sweat a few hours in lock-up. By my calculations, that gives us ten hours. Figured that would give us a little time to catch up."

"I've had a lot of time to think," he said.

"I know. You added it up; erratic Bobby plus delicate Alex does not equal happiness. In fact, delicate Alex will get hurt. And since you're a genius and geniuses are always right, I should just agree with you, right?"

"Yes, well, erratic Bobby is not just thinking about delicate Alex. I don't want to get hurt either. We'll talk to Barak later. It's probably best if you stay with her." His sarcasm cut more than she imagined it could. He rolled away from her.

She sat up and slapped him on the arm. "Hey, small child! Don't turn away from me. Once again, you think that your decision is the only one that counts. I want to show you something. Turn around, Bobby. Don't look away from me!"

He turned toward her reluctantly. She pulled off her shirt and he winced. "Look Bobby, the bruises are gone. My ribs are not showing. I know who I am again. I know what I want. There is no more delicate Alex."

"Please, put your shirt back on. Leave me alone." There was a desperate edge to his voice.

"You started this, Goren. If you want to end it, then end it honestly. Look me in the eye." She reached over and pulled his face toward hers. "I'm steady, Bobby. I got wounds inside, but they don't own me anymore. I'm strong."

"When you needed me most, I wasn't good for you." His words came out in a whisper.

"It was intense. You were dealing with your own hurt. I needed space to breath. This wasn't about bad or good. This was about a moment in time when we both needed perspective. Now I have mine, and you are choosing to run. I should have known this would happen." She made no move to put her shirt on. She was wearing a simple white cotton bra. It was sheer, but she wasn't apologetic about that or the fact that it was a bra built for utility rather than sex appeal.

"It doesn't feel safe for either one of us." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She shook her head. "The die is cast, Bobby. Wrenching you from me creates a hole that I couldn't begin to fill. I thought it would be the same for you."

He didn't say anything, and she looked away. Her body shook and he could tell she was trying to stifle tears. He reached out to touch her, and she slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me, Bobby. Don't sit there like a fucking statue and try to comfort me. You're the one that needs it more than I do."

He sat up. "I get scared. You're so powerful in me. You need stability and I can be…unstable. And then I didn't know if you would even come back."

"Mister says we're both idiots, and she's right, you know."

"I met Mister."

She snorted through the tears. "I know you did. She confessed everything. It gave me some inkling of what to expect when I got back here. I just wanted to be better first, and that's how I feel now…I feel better, Bobby."

"What if—"

She leaned over and pushed him hard in the chest. "What if! What if! What if! Life is full of what ifs, Bobby. What if you get shot tomorrow? What if I get hit by a car? What if we get old and realize that we blew our chance at something amazing? I wonder what that kind of regret feels like."

Bobby steadied himself and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her to him and held her tightly. In her ear, he whispered, "What if I find out that I'm not right for you. Can you imagine what that kind of disappointment would feel like?"

She breathed into his t-shirt. "What do your instincts tell you? What does this feel like to you? Does this feel wrong?"

He nuzzled his face into her neck and didn't speak.

She found the edges of his t-shirt and slid her hands underneath. Slowly she pulled it up his chest. She found a nipple and teased it with her teeth. He groaned deeply. "Alex…"

"Tell me to stop, Bobby. Tell me this doesn't feel right."

His big hands found hers and he tried to pull away. He trapped her hands behind her back and she looked up at him fiercely. "I'm ready, Bobby. I'm ready for everything. I'm ready for you."

His eyes were deep and soft. "I love you, Eames, and it scares the shit out of me. I've never made room for these sorts of feelings before."

She smiled. "We tell each other everything, Bobby, and it'll be okay. I promise you."

He hugged her tightly. "I missed you."

"Yeah, me too. Wanna know what I thought about while I was gone?"

He cocked his head. "Tell me."

"I thought about this." Her hands went to his chest again, running her fingers through curly hair. "I thought about this." She reached up and teased his earlobe with her teeth. "And I thought about this." Her cheek slid along his until her mouth found his. She leaned back, her arms around his neck, and let him fall on top of her into the sheets. She was happy to find he was responding to her as eagerly as she was to him. His hand burrowed under her back and snapped open her bra. She tangled with the straps for a few minutes while he found her nipples, teasing and caressing them until she moaned her pleasure, arching her back for him.

Hands fumbled and tore at clothes, she more than he. She could feel his continued hesitation. Six weeks of dreaming about the man did little for her patience. She tugged at his boxers and he groaned. "Eames, you're killing me here."

"Then get with the program, Goren," she hissed into his ear. "When I said I'm ready for everything I meant it."

He pulled away and stared down at her. "We can wait, Honey."

She shook her head. "No, we can't. I can't. I'm ready."

He sighed. "Alex, I'm no small man."

She grinned. "I know. I was sort of counting on it."

His eyes widened. "Eames!"

She rolled away from him and crawled toward his night table. "You better be stocked for this or someone's running down to the bodega and it's not going to be me."

He couldn't resist tackling her playfully and flipping her over. His big hands covered hers and he stared down at her. She struggled beneath him, but he held her firmly. "I just want to see you like this for a moment. So pretty. So naughty. So…strong. God, I've missed you."

She freed a hand and hooked him around the neck, pulling his face to hers. She kissed him deeply and then broke away. "Bobby, look at me." She grabbed his chin with her hand. "Get…condom…now."

He laughed at her and reached a long arm past her to open the drawer. He pulled a condom out and rolled away from her. She attempted to assist, but he growled at her, and she knew his erection would never survive her touch. He crawled back, reaching down to capture her mouth with his, and lowered himself into her. She reached her hips to meet his and together, they negotiated their most intimate dance ever.

……………………………………………………………………………..

Logan looked over the gathered thugs crammed into the holding cell. They looked back at him with expressions of annoyance and indifference. He was going to spend the next few hours pushing them, and he didn't expect he'd get anywhere. These guys had been in and out of interrogation rooms since they were 14-15 years old. One of them leaned against the bars of the holding cell. "Come on, Logan. I'm growing old in here. Cut me a friggin' break!"

Another voice rose from behind him. "I got Nicks tickets for tonight. Courtside for chris' sakes!"

Logan grinned. "You offering 'em to me? 'Cause I'm not above accepting a bribe, you know."

"Your mama, Logan. That's who I'm taking, you prick!"

"Aw jeez, guys, now my feelings are hurt. I'm going to have to go compose myself before we can continue."

"Logan, you jerk off, you walk out of here, and I swear on my sainted dead mother's—"

He closed the door on that last threat. Deakins was standing there, his arms folded. "There was some logic to all that?"

Logan grinned. "Just feeding the animals, Captain."

Barak came trotting up. "Still no sign of Paulie Sirico, and we've been everywhere."

Mike shook his head. "That's not good. Task force says he's the biggest wage earner in the family. They got him suspected in three different murders."

"He's our guy," Carolyn said.

"Now we got to find him."

…………………………………………………………………………….

TBC