It was almost midnight, and Eames sat back at her desk, just watching her partner pace the squad room. She had at least gotten some sleep the night before but he was pushing forty-two hours without sleep. She had been trying to convince him to lie down in the crib for an hour or two ever since Deakins left. He kept insisting he was fine, and maybe he was…she never knew anyone who could function on as little sleep as he did.

They had gone over the crime scene reports and the M.E.'s preliminary findings all afternoon. There was a whole lot of nothing. She watched him struggle through his fatigue to solve a puzzle with just a few scattered pieces. The difference between Goren and a lot of other investigators was that he never let a lack of evidence keep him from trying to solve the crime. Her phone rang. "Eames." She listened. "No, we're still at the squad. Yeah. That sounds good. See you in fifteen."

She closed the phone and slipped it back into her pocket. Goren had stopped pacing and was looking at her. "Come on," she said, getting up from her desk and gathering all their case notes and reports. "That was Olivia. They want to compare notes."

He crossed to his desk, stuffed some papers into his binder and followed her to the elevator. She looked up at him. "Try not to start anything with Elliot."

He looked wounded. "I won't."

"And don't walk right into it if he tries, ok?"

"I'll try not to."

They met at a diner midway between the two squads. After ordering dinner, which none of them had taken time for earlier, they began comparing notes. Goren, as usual, sat back and let his partner do the talking while they ate. They didn't have a lot to go on. A couple of partials that yielded no hits, some fibers that the lab was still trying to identify, fluids that were being worked up for DNA. That had upset him the most…the fluids. The ultimate violation of her little body. Eames felt him tense beside her, and she looked at him. "Something wrong?" she asked, gently nudging his side.

He shook his head, but wouldn't look at her. She would see it in his eyes, and he wasn't about to start discussing how he felt in front of Stabler and Benson. She looked at him for another moment, then went back to her discussion with Benson. He knew Stabler was watching him. He could feel his eyes on him. He didn't know what to make of the SVU cop. There was a lot of rage in the man, and he was tense, like a tightly coiled spring. Beyond the rage, though, he could sense there was more. He was good at reading people, and he had a sense that Stabler had a gentle side he didn't bring forth very often on the job. To victims, probably, but not toward other cops. No, that's not the kind of cop Stabler was. He was tough, and he did not let any vulnerability show. He could also tell, very clearly, that Stabler did not like him. He guessed he had his reasons, probably based on the rumors that circulated through the department about him. Well, he wasn't the first cop to judge him without knowing him; he was very used to that. He just shrugged it off. As long as those judgements didn't extend to his partner to earn her a cold shoulder because of him, he really didn't care.

His thoughts were interrupted when his partner's phone rang, followed closely by Benson's. That wasn't a good sign, and he tensed, ready to get up and head for the car. His instincts weren't wrong. "We have another little girl," Eames said, closing her phone and nudging him, even though he was already getting out of the booth. He pulled a twenty from his pocket and dropped it on the table as Stabler did the same. Eames told the other detectives, "You guys can ride with us, if you'd like."

"No, thanks," Stabler said, almost too quickly. "We'll meet you there."

Eames just shrugged and followed her partner from the diner. Benson looked at him as they headed out the opposite door. "It wouldn't have hurt to go with them, Elliot. Accepting a ride from them doesn't obligate you to them in any way."

"Just the same, I'd rather not."

She shook her head as she got into the car. Men…and they said women were stubborn.

------------------------------------------------------

Stabler and Benson pulled up to the house right after Goren and Eames did, which seemed to annoy Stabler. They headed up the walk together, as the front door opened and a uniformed officer came out, his shirt open and his face bloody and tear-streaked. "Hurry up! I don't know what to do with her! She's lost it!"

Eames had her hand on her gun. "Who? What's happened?"

"My wife…she's freaking out! She's in the living room! Come on, come on!"

From inside they could hear screaming, crashing and breaking glass. Three cops pulled out their weapons, but Goren laid a hand on his partner's shoulder. "I've got it, Eames."

He hurried in through the front door, Eames right behind him, ready to back him up. "What's he going to do?" Stabler asked.

Eames glanced at him. "He's going to handle her."

"What?"

"If you won't trust him, then trust me. You can put your piece away. I'll back up my partner."

She hurried into the house and stood beside and slightly behind Goren in the living room, where the bereaved mother continued to scream and throw porcelain figures, picture frames, anything she could get her hands on. When she noticed the two strangers in her living room, she screamed "Killers!" and charged at them, wielding a piece of broken glass.

Eames stepped back, out of the way, as Goren stepped toward the woman without hesitation. He held out his arm as she tried to run past him toward Eames, easily catching her midsection and pulling her back against his torso. She brought her hand down, burying the glass in his forearm. He bit back the pain with a groan and, wrapping his other arm around her, secured her arms to her sides. With the ease of someone who had done this many times, he repositioned her without compromising his hold on her. He addressed his partner, his voice calm. "Eames, make sure there's a bus on the way and that the paramedics have authorization for sedation."

The woman continued to hammer her head back into his chest and flail her legs, bringing her heels slamming into his shins over and over. But he held her firmly, talking softly, calmly to her. Benson and Stabler just watched, fascinated, as the big cop continued to patiently talk, not really saying anything, just talking. The tone and timber of his voice was more important than what he said, and she started to settle down, although she continued to struggle against his gentle but firm hold. Her husband stood off to the side, relieved that she couldn't hurt herself any more.

When she heard the ambulance sirens, she began fighting harder, kicking harder, struggling to get out of his hold. But he had been expecting that, and he braced himself for it. Yet all the while, his calm tone remained. The paramedics came running in with a stretcher. One approached with a first aid box, sizing up the struggling woman. "You got her, detective? I'll give her IM sedation…no way we can start an IV with her thrashing around like that."

"I've got her; just do it."

He opened the box, drew up the medication and waited while his partner grabbed the woman's leg and held it as best he could as she struggled more frantically. He jabbed the needle into her leg and emptied the syringe. They stepped back and waited. Slowly, her struggling subsided, until she was finally limp in the big cop's arms. They brought the stretcher over and he gently laid her on it. One paramedic asked, "You ok?"

"Fine."

"You got blood dripping off your hand, man. Want us to take a look?"

"It's all right. I'll take care of it later."

Eames stepped up to his side, pushing him toward the couch and forcing him to sit down as the paramedics wheeled the stretcher from the house, the husband following them. "Take off your jacket so I can see your arm."

"Eames," he started.

"Now."

He knew better than to argue, particularly when Benson stepped forward to help him off with his jacket. "Elliot," she said. "Go get the first aid kit from the car."

Stabler felt oddly unsettled at the sight of his partner fussing over Goren, but he did as she asked. He met the woman's husband on the lawn as he headed back to the house from the departing ambulance. The uniformed cop held out his hand. "Jack Farmer, from the one-nine" he introduced himself.

Stabler accepted his hand. "Elliot Stabler, Special Victims."

Farmer accompanied him to the vehicle and waited as he pulled out the first aid kit. They headed back toward the house. "I didn't know what to do, except stay out of her way. She just freaked."

"Did she find your daughter?"

"Yeah. I work swings. She saved dinner for me, and then we watched a movie. We were getting ready for bed and she went in to kiss Tiffy, like she does every night. We never heard a sound. Missy just…lost it. I can't say what would have happened if your friend…"

"He's not my friend," Stabler interjected, perhaps a bit too strongly.

"Oh, sorry…"

"He works Major Case." Farmer opened the door and they went back into the house. Stabler handed off the kit to his partner and they stood by, watching as Eames cleaned and bandaged her partner's arm. Goren looked decidedly uncomfortable with the attention, but he let his partner take care of his arm. She gave him no choice in the matter. "It's deep," she said. "And I'll take you on that it needs stitches."

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I only take sure bets," he muttered so that only she could hear him as he got up from the couch. He turned to Farmer, retaining his gentle tone. He held out his hand to the disheveled officer, who accepted it. "I'm Detective Goren from Major Case, and my partner is Detective Eames. Detectives Stabler and Benson are from Special Victims. What happened, sergeant?"

"I..." He shook his head, his face contorted with grief. Mentally, he stepped away from the murder of his little girl. "Thank you, for what you did...for taking care of Missy like you did."

The big cop just nodded. "I'm glad we got here when we did. She could have hurt herself, badly."

"Yeah…" He let his eyes wander around the room again, and that was it. He sank down into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

Benson knelt beside the distraught man, talking softly to him, as Stabler told Goren and Eames what Farmer had told him. Eames squatted down in front of him. "We're going to your daughter's room now. Is it upstairs?"

He nodded, unable to say anything. Benson stayed with him while the other three detectives headed up the stairs to the child's room. Goren was pulling on gloves as they got to the bedroom door, which was decorated with teddy bears. Eames and Stabler did the same. Opening the door, they stepped into the room.

Twenty minutes later, they turned the room over to the CSU techs. Eames was sitting on the couch in the living room, as unsettled as she had been the night before at the scene of Christin Smalley's murder. Stabler was staring out the bay window at the lawn that stretched to the street, and Goren was pacing restlessly. Farmer was sitting in the same chair he'd dropped into earlier, and they were waiting for another ambulance as well as the M.E. Benson had convinced the distraught father to go to the hospital when he had settled into shock over the night's events. He had his face still buried in his hands. Benson remained beside him, her hand resting on his back. She turned him over to the paramedics when they arrived, and Warner showed up right after that. Stabler led her up to the scene.

Eames watched Goren pace as Benson sat beside her on the couch. The SVU detective asked, "Same M.O.?"

"To a 'T,'" Eames answered.

Goren turned suddenly to look at them. "Point of entry," he said, annoyed that he hadn't thought about it earlier. He left the room in search of a basement door, finding it quickly. They followed him into the basement. It was just one big, open room and it didn't take long to find what they were looking for. He pointed at a perfectly round piece of glass in the middle of the floor near the furnace. The window above it was propped open. "Make sure CSU gets down here," he said quietly.

Eames and Benson headed back up the stairs, and he wandered around the basement, thinking, trying to imagine what the perp had been thinking as he waited to make his move. Two CSU techs came down the stairs, and he said, "Bag that glass. It needs to be tested against the window glass from the Smalley murder, to see if the same tool was used." He walked slowly up the steps, stepping into the hallway and closing the door. He didn't hear Eames approach, but he knew she was there. "You…you can't see this door from…the kitchen…" He turned. "…Or the living room."

He walked along the wall to the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor. He waved his hand in the air. "Living room doorway…but still out of sight…if they were watching a movie, they…wouldn't have seen him…but they were in the kitchen when he went upstairs. He…he still took his time…but he finished…more quickly tonight...be-because they were…awake."

"And he left out the front door," Eames concluded, disgusted. "Before they went upstairs?"

"No, just after…they would have been in their room, before Mrs. Farmer went in t-to…kiss her daughter…good night…"

Stabler and Benson joined them at the bottom of the stairs. They watched the big cop look toward the front door, then down the hall toward the basement stairs. "He's…confident…"

"And he's got balls," Stabler put in.

Goren glanced at him. He walked into the living room, crossing the room to the dining area which was just off the kitchen. He rubbed the back of his neck, then looked at Eames. "They never heard him."

"No, they didn't," Stabler said. "Farmer said they never heard a sound."

Goren nodded. "I…I need to ask CSU to check something."

Eames stayed where she was as he strolled back to the stairs and took them, two at a time, to the second floor. Stabler looked at her. "Is he always like this?"

She nodded. "Feeling left out?"

"I thought we were working this case together."

"He'll explain, eventually. It's not easy to get him to slow down once he goes off on one of his tangents. But they always lead someplace that we needed to go. He doesn't work like you do, but he'll figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"The crime, and the killer. He'll pick up the trail sooner or later. He's very good at what he does, Stabler. I've never known a cop with better instincts."

"So how does he do it, Eames?"

She studied him. "Call it a gift…or a curse…it depends on how you want to look at it. He gets into their heads. He knows how they think."

Stabler looked at Benson. "That's just creepy."

"What is?" came Goren's voice from behind them.

Stabler turned. "You are," he said.

There was no visible reaction from Goren, but Eames saw the shadow enter his eyes. Benson glared at her partner. "Elliot, that was uncalled for."

Eames stepped between her partner and Stabler, who had balled his fists, anticipating a reaction from Goren. But the big cop just turned and walked away. Eames looked at the other two cops. "He won't start anything, Stabler," she said. "He'll never throw the first punch. Words are his preferred weapon, and you really don't want to get into it with him."

She turned and went back into the living room, Stabler and Benson right behind her. Goren was once again pacing the room restlessly. Eames had a feeling his restlessness was motivated, at least in part, by fatigue. They all turned their attention to the doorway when Warner appeared. "We're done now. You can secure the scene. I'll send you my report as soon as I have it done."

Goren stepped toward her. "Uh, can you…send us a preliminary in the morning?"

She looked at the big cop, unaccustomed to his intensity. But she nodded, then turned and left.

The CSU techs filed down the stairs, joined by the two from the basement. Goren went to the doorway. "Phil?"

One of the techs turned toward him. "Hey, Bobby. I sent Freddy out to check out the grounds. No luck."

"Damn. Find anything promising upstairs?"

"Couple of partials, some fluids on the carpet, a few hairs…Not a lot. I'll send you a report first thing in the morning."

"Thanks."

They locked up the house and secured the front door with crime tape. The house looked dark and empty, forboding. They walked in silence toward their cars.

Eames stopped suddenly and looked up at her big partner. "Why'd you send CSU outside?"

He looked at her, confused for a moment. She would know why...no, she did know why...sharing information...she was acting like she didn't know so she wouldn't have to remind him to tell Benson and Stabler... "They didn't hear him...I was hoping he left...some kind of prints out here. I think he was barefoot."

Eames just nodded at him, and he looked amused. They resumed walking toward the cars. "Uh, Bobby?" Benson said. He looked at her with tired eyes. "I wanted to say you did really well with the mother."

He nodded. "Thanks."

"You knew exactly what to do."

"Yes, I did."

"That's not how most cops would have handled it," Stabler commented.

Goren stopped and looked at him. "What? Would you have gone in there with your gun drawn and just shot her?"

Stabler frowned and tensed, but Goren shook his head and walked away. Eames watched him slide into the car.

"I didn't mean it that way," Stabler grumbled.

"It's ok," Eames said. "He's pushing nearly forty-eight hours with no sleep and I guess he's a little testy. He has a soft spot for psychological patients. I'll call you tomorrow if we come across anything." She hurried across the remaining lawn and slid behind the wheel. She looked over at her partner, who was resting his forehead on his hand, eyes closed, slumped in the seat. "Are you ready to go over to the hospital?"

"No. We need to go back to the squad."

"In the morning, Bobby. You need stitches…and sleep."

"Eames…"

"What makes you think this argument will end any differently than any of the others?"

He sighed heavily, too tired to fight with her. He waved a hand in the air. "Whatever, Eames."

She pulled away from the curb. Benson and Stabler watched the black SUV turn at the corner before they got into their car, pulled away from the house and turned the opposite way at the same corner.