A/N – Short chapter. Anyone who's read my stories knows that they don't usually (okay … never) have much of a plot. This one's likely to have holes large enough to drive a tank through. I'm treating this as a learning experience, so any commentary or feedback as the story progresses will be appreciated.

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Chapter 4 – Gamesmanship

He felt better than he deserved to. He had Eames to thank for that.

Last night when he'd headed out to the kitchen, Bobby had every intention of pouring himself another drink – and another one after that. Then he'd heard the front door close and knew that she'd left – probably because she didn't like to see him drunk.

'Together we're going to look at those files.'

Bobby closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What the hell was he doing? She was unfamiliar with the details of the case. He needed a clear head if he was going to find out anything to protect her. And here he was determined to drink himself into a stupor. The only thing to be gained by that would be a foggy and painful head in the morning.

As for the rest of it … they'd made their decision nine months ago. Alex had suffered as much as he since then, Bobby knew that. He should be happy for her that she was now trying to get on with the rest of her life. Maybe it was time he stopped feeling sorry for himself and did the same.

He'd put the bottle away, chugged a glass of water instead, turned off Stevie Ray and watched the late night news before going to bed and actually managing to get a few hours of sleep.

As Bobby turned the corner on the eleventh floor of One PP, he saw that Eames was already at her desk reading through file notes. She looked up when she heard him and her uncertainty was quickly replaced with a surprised smile. He knew she probably expected him to be hung over, but instead he'd been up for a couple of hours, eaten some breakfast and even shaved.

"You look good for a Sunday."

"Well a … a friend stopped by last night and kept me from … drinking myself into oblivion," he said gently. Her smile brightened and Bobby wished he could always make her this happy. "Have you been here long?"

"Just got here about fifteen minutes ago," she answered while grabbing the file folder and walking with him to the conference room.

Eames must have gotten an early start – there was a carafe of Starbucks coffee and box of Krispy Kremes sitting in the middle of the table.

"I thought you'd need the sugar," she sounded apologetic.

"A sip of your coffee would have done it." He managed to avoid the paper clip she threw at him, but not the warmth of her smile.

"Why don't you start with those files," he waved a hand toward one end of the table. "They're mostly history on José Valderez and … Logan's notes on what he was able to dig up. Let me know if you need help deciphering his handwriting."

"After reading your scrawl all these years, this should be no problem."

He tried a threatening scowl, but instead it turned into a grin.

This felt good. They hadn't been this relaxed with one another in months – nine months to be exact. Goren realized how much he'd missed the teasing and easy companionship they'd had before he'd messed things up and thrown in the sexual tension. Maybe they could get back to where they were …

He stopped and his eyes scanned the photos on the bulletin board. Something wasn't right. A picture had been added to the lower right-hand corner. Goren bent over and cocked his head to see what it was, and froze.

"Eames … did you put this here?"

"What?"

"This photo."

She got up from the table and walked to where he was still studying the picture, ducking her head beneath his to get a better look. "That's me," Eames sounded mildly surprised.

"That's you … and that's José Valderez."

"What!"

He straightened in time to keep her head from knocking him on the chin. Eames reached for the photo and Goren grabbed her wrist. "Don't! Don't move or touch anything. If I didn't put it there, and you didn't put it there …"

"I'll get gloves."

"No," Goren realized he still held her wrist and let go. "For all we know, the placement of that photo has meaning. We need someone from CSU in here to … take pictures and check for forensics."

Eames nodded. "I'll have the security tapes pulled," she called over her shoulder as she headed toward her desk.

"And … call Deakins."

TBC …