A/N: I remember last year's subway bombing scare and I thought 'what if...' That's where this came from. It's been a few years since I was on the NY subway, so some of this is from memory. I am assuming cell phone reception is blocked underground, particularly with electrical interference from the rails. I base this on the fact that I get no reception on the lower levels of parking garages, in elevators and even in my basement. I'm not sure if they have emergency lockers in the tunnels, but it makes sense to me that they would, especially since 9/11, so I put them there. If a couple of well placed explosions could bring down the WTC, a few similarly well placed bombs could collapse subway tunnels, in spite of due diligence. So forgive me for mutilating NY's transit system and on we go...

Eames went back to the squad after talking to the M.E. and the lab guys. No one had seen her partner. She knew it was just busy work Deakins had given her, but she resented wasting her time. She didn't know what else she could be doing, but nothing wasn't on her list.

Deakins was waiting for her. "Get Logan and Barek and come in here, Alex."

The three detectives entered his office and closed the door. Deakins got right to the point. "I just got a call from the mayor's office. There was another terrorist attack on the city. At 7:28 this morning a series of five bombs went off in the subway. The damage was extensive and several tunnels collapsed. Alex, when Bobby doesn't drive, how does he get to work?"

Eames was pale as she slowly sat down. "The subway."

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

People first, then reconnaissance. The people were taken care of as best he could manage. Two surviving passengers were critical care nurses from Bellevue, and they had taken charge of caring for the injured. The people were in good hands.

Both ends of the tunnel had collapsed. They were trapped. All he'd told the others was that help would be coming, and he knew that it would. He just had no idea how long it would take. There were three cars not completely buried by the collapsed tunnels. The center car had the greatest number of serious injuries, so he had moved the less seriously injured into the first car. They were doing a decent job of comforting one another, with several of them focusing on the two children in there, to help them manage their own pain and fear. As for the far car, which was partially buried in the rubble, there had been no survivors.

He loosened his tie and slipped off his jacket, laying it across the rail at the back of the car he'd just left. It was bloody hot down there. He now had a new vision of hell to visit him in his nightmares. Great. He started off across the width of the tunnel. A noise to his right caught his attention. "Hey," the kid with the beer logo came trotting over to him. "Can I help you out here?"

"It would probably be best if you stayed in the car..."

"Come on, please. I wasn't hurt that bad and the old guy in there is talking about hell and deliverence. I get enough of that crap from my old man."

"Your dad's a preacher?"

"Yeah. And I'm a worthless screw-up wasting my time in college."

He continued toward the far wall, and the kid came along with him. He was taking his time; it hurt to breathe. "You go to Hudson?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm an English major. Believe it or not, I want to teach kids not just to read, but to savor what they read."

Goren looked at the kid. "That's ambitious." He held out his hand. "I'm Bobby."

"Steve." He accepted his hand, giving no thought to the blood on it. He looked around. "We're trapped down here, aren't we?"

"Uh, yeah, we are."

"So what do we do?"

"First, we help keep everyone calm."

"Mr. Hailfire and Brimstone in there isn't helping with that. He already made that girl with the black hair cry. And he's scaring the crap out of the little kids, like they don't have enough to be scared of. Now they think God's out to get them, and there ain't much scarier than that."

People first..."Can you check these walls here for emergency lockers? They're about the size of gym lockers. Should have a flashlight or two, first aid supplies, maybe a radio, a two-way if we're lucky."

"Sure."

"I'll be right back."

He headed back to the car, getting more annoyed with every step. Preaching was one thing, the First Amendment and all, but scaring people who were already terrified...no, that was unacceptable. Opening the door, the first thing he heard, besides the crying and the moaning, was the preacher. "This is God's punishment for our sins."

"Excuse me."

The preacher turned annoyed eyes toward him. "I am busy, son."

Goren leaned in close and spoke in a low, menacing voice. "No, you are done being busy. You are going to sit down and shut up and quit scaring these people. They need a man of God to reassure them, to tell them that God is with them. They don't need to be told that their sins brought this down upon us all, because that's not true. They have enough to be scared of right now. Now kindly do as I ask and don't piss me off. You really wouldn't like me when I'm mad."

The man studied him and decided he was serious. He took a seat on the floor near the sliding doors that were never going to open again. "Good choice," Goren grumbled, turning back toward the door. He'd forgotten he had taken off his jacket, and a young woman several feet away caught her breath sharply. "You have a gun!"

He turned around, reading terror in more than one set of eyes. "It's ok. I'm a cop." He pulled out his badge. "Don't panic."

He was surprised to see how quickly fear dissolved at the sight of his badge. He pointed at the preacher and pressed a finger to his lips. Then he left the car again. He was really feeling badly, and he had to push himself to move across the tunnel. "Over here," Steve called. "Is this what I'm looking for?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"Looks like someone's been here before us. The first aid supplies are here, and two flashlights, but someone swiped the radio, assuming this strap here held one."

Goren nodded. "That would have been it. Damn."

"You ok?"

"Yeah. Hand me one of the flashlights."

Steve gave it to him and he turned it on. It had a powerful beam, he was relieved to see. Shining it up one way and back the other, he said, "There could be another locker at the edge of the rubble over there. Maybe we should look."

"Let me do it. You ought to sit down someplace."

"I'm ok." He headed with Steve toward the edge of the tunnel where the rubble began. "You know what we haven't seen?"

"What?"

"Rats."

"Isn't that a good thing?" He looked nervously around, shining the other flashlight at the ground.

"I don't know yet."

"Hey, here's the edge of one of those lockers. We're gonna have to unbury it." Goren stumbled over a rock the size of a watermelon. Steve caught him before he fell. "Let me do this. You go back and check on the others." The young man reached into his pocket and took out a small flat silver box, slipping it into Goren's hand. "Here. I don't want this getting damaged. Go on. I'll let you know when I get to it."

He paid little attention, slipping the box into his pocket and heading back for the car. He was still light-headed and his chest and abdomen were on fire. Several steps into the car, he stopped as everything suddenly tilted and spun past him, faster and faster until his surroundings dissolved into darkness.

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

Deakins arrived at the command center with his three detectives. A tall man with a captain's badge on his lapel approached them. "Jimmy," he addressed Deakins, extending his hand. "It's good to see you."

"Hi, Al," he replied, accepting the man's hand.

"What brings you down here?"

"We came down to see if we can be of any help. One of my detectives may have been on one of those trains."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Why?"

"It's not looking good from this end. Several tunnels have collapsed and we haven't found anyone alive yet."

Deakins glanced at Eames, who was still pale but remained steady. She would never believe her partner didn't make it, not without proof. "If there's anything we can do to help...these are three of my best, Alex Eames, Mike Logan and Carolyn Barek. This is Captain Al Reynolds, from the two-five."

Reynolds looked at Eames. "Johnny's girl?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded. "I have a very high opinion of your dad. Give him my regards." He looked at Logan. "Any relation to the Logan who punched out that congressman?"

"Yeah. I am that Logan."

Reynolds smiled. "Good job, boy. More cops should have guts like yours."

"Staten Island's not that big."

Reynolds laughed and looked at Barek. "I haven't heard anything about you."

"Just wait," she said. "I'm Logan's partner."

"You got good people here, Jimmy. I don't have much for you to do right now, but hang around. Things'll pick up."

They stepped away from the trailer and headed for the sidewalk. "Great," Eames grumbled. "We still have nothing to do."

Logan looked around. "Let's make a coffee run. At least it'll give us something to do. Captain? We're going for coffee. You want one?"

Deakins nodded and looked at Reynolds, who answered, "Sure. And a bagel with cream cheese, if you don't mind."

"No, problem," Logan answered. "This way, ladies."

They headed off down the street, Logan and Barek each glancing at Eames every few steps. Eames finally stopped and said, "Ok, you two. Quit it."

Barek answered, "Are you ok, Alex?"

"Yeah, I'm ok."

"You think he's down there," Logan said, as a matter of fact.

She nodded. "If he's not, he'll wish he was for worrying me like this."

Barek replied, "That's the point, though. He wouldn't worry you like this."

"I know." She sighed and continued walking. "I don't know what to do. I want to know what's going on, but at the same time I'm afraid to find out. I mean...what if there are no survivors? I don't...I can't deal with that."

She looked down at the sidewalk to hide the tears that threatened in her eyes. The thought of losing her partner to this act of terrorism brought forth an overwhelming mixture of rage and grief that she had difficulty managing. Sweet, gentle Bobby...the same man who could make hardened suspects burst into tears in the interrogation room had cradled her infant nephew in his arms and coaxed forth one of his first smiles.

She followed Logan and Barek into the coffee shop, where Logan ordered five coffees, a bagel and two pastramis on rye. Neither Barek nor Eames was hungry. As they headed back to the command center, Eames made an attempt at normal conversation. "So, you and Bobby had plans tonight, Mike?"

He nodded. "We were just gonna shoot some pool and have a few drinks."

Barek looked at him. "That's kind of tame for you."

"Yeah, well, Goren's not much for clubbing and picking up girls."

Eames tried to picture her partner at a club--any club--but she couldn't. That wasn't his scene. And then it occurred to her that she really didn't know just what his 'scene' was. He liked taking her to dinner, and he liked to dance. But his idea of dancing wasn't the hip-gyrating hustle of the clubs. No, Bobby preferred the more intimate one-to-one dancing they'd found at a few of the restaurants he'd taken her to. And she'd found that she loved to dance with him. She sighed.

"What is it?" Barek asked.

"Nothing. Mike's right. Bobby doesn't like clubbing. It's too impersonal for him."

"Do you?" Logan asked.

"Yes, but I haven't been in awhile."

"Do you miss it?"

She gave that some thought, mentally comparing the noise, lights and dancing of the clubs with a quiet night of dinner and dancing in her partner's arms. "No. Not at all."

"Well, if you ever want to go and you need a..." He'd almost said 'date' but using that word with Eames made him nervous. "...uh, company, just let me know."

They arrived back at the command center and handed the two captains their lunches. Then they moved off, out of the way, to wait until there was something for them to do.