Disclaimer: Dick Wolf is the master of the universe.

Title: Hurricane Katrina

Chapter 19 – Back to Work

Characters: Goren, Eames, Deakins

Rating: T

Reviews welcome.

Other than his lunch with Katayeva's husband, Bobby Goren spent most of his weekend with Alex Eames. What had someone once called her? Touchstone of a genius? She was his rock, his security blanket, his tether to reality. Eames spent the weekend making Goren feel normal, feel safe. When he dozed off on her sofa in the middle of the afternoon, Eames gently placed an afghan over him. She saw to it that he ate nutritious food and made sure that alcohol was not a part of this weekend. They strolled in the park. Had a picnic on her living room rug. Eames massaged his neck, his shoulders, his hands, his feet. She played soothing music softly in the background. They spooned in her bed. Goren responded well to all her ministrations, soaking them up as the desert does water. Eames was just grateful she could help him.

When Goren and Katayeva arrived at One P.P. on the following Monday, the Captain advised that they would both be receiving special citations from the Mayor and the Police Commissioner at an upcoming City Hall ceremony. Neither detective gave a rat's ass about citations and awards. Just let me do my job and stay the hell out of my way. But they nodded politely to Deakins and participated in the obligatory conference call with the Chief of D's and the Commissioner.

"Deakins needs to open the windows in his office…let out all the hot air from that call," mumbled Katayeva, as they walked back to their desks.

A momentary smile flickered across Goren's face.

Both detectives had individual sessions with NYPD shrinks that afternoon. Dr. Emil Skoda met with Katayeva; Dr. Elizabeth Olivet with Goren. The two shrinks then compared notes. They attributed Katayeva's quick recovery to her lack of history with Wallace and to her self-use of the Emotional Freedom Technique. Goren was better than they had expected. This was attributed to Eames' attention. Goren would be re-visited to make sure he continued to progress favorably. Both doctors advised Captain Deakins to assign the duo to a case as soon as possible. They needed to be busy. And they especially wanted Goren to focus on something other than Wallace. Fortunately, there was never a shortage of new investigations rolling into Major Case.

Deakins wanted to assign Goren and Katayeva to a case where it would be extremely unlikely that either would have to draw their weapon. The perfect case fell into his lap. The death of the wife of a police captain in Queens. Caroline Martin, 53 year old wife of Captain Raymond Martin, was found in her car in her driveway. It appeared that she had died of heat suffocation. The car was closed up, but not locked. Mrs. Martin had apparently returned from the local supermarket with three bags of groceries. The victim's right hand was grasping the bag handles as though pulling it towards her. The driver's bucket seat was flipped forward as far as it would go, effectively pushing Martin's forehead into the steering wheel. Her purse was in her lap, the shoulder strap hanging down between the seat and the door, caught around the seat's release lever. The victim was discovered by her husband when he arrived home around 9 p.m. Deakins received the call from the Chief of D's and immediately contacted Goren and Katayeva to head over to the crime scene. He'd have preferred not to send his detectives out at night after they had put in a full day, especially one with two small children, but it couldn't be helped.

Katayeva arrived first, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, denim jacket and sneakers; Goren arrived minutes later in similar attire. Both had their badges clipped to their waistband. The two detectives expressed their condolences to the obviously distraught Captain Martin. Fortunately the Police Commissioner's office had sent over another captain who was a longtime friend of Martin's. He managed to keep Martin from contaminating the scene.

"Murder, suicide, accident, natural death," enumerated Katayeva, "Those would be our choices."

"Captain Martin said that all he did was check for a pulse in her neck," admitted Goren, "No pulse and body already cool to touch."

The two detectives had turned on Martin's outdoor floodlights. At first glance they noted that the woman's purse strap had caught on the seat lever and it had slammed her forward, shoving her head into the steering wheel.

"Temperature was high eighties, low nineties today. Inside a closed car it could reach one hundred and twenty or above," said Katayeva, as she laid her palm on the car's hood, "Cool, but god knows how long it's been here."

Goren nodded and then they were both doing their sniffing/touching/poking/prodding thing. The attending uniforms and forensics were standing around rolling their eyes. Neither detective gave a damn.

Goren reached over and turned the key in the ignition. The car sprang to life. Nothing was on, no radio, air conditioner, CD player. Goren turned on the radio to see what station she listened to. It was an oldies station. Popped open the CD player. Empty. No CDs in the car. The electronic windows worked easily. He carefully looked over the victim without moving her.

Meanwhile Kat was on the passenger side, inspecting the grocery bags. There were three. One had a receipt with a date and time stamp. Mrs. Martin had checked out of the market at 11:17 a.m. Glove box contained only the car's manual along with valid registration and insurance card. Both front sun visors had mirrors. Nothing else tucked in either one. The back seat contained an umbrella, an ice scraper, and a couple out-of-date supermarket flyers. They popped the trunk. Found a spare tire, jack, the usual.

Katayeva nodded at Goren, who then turned to the forensics team, giving them the OK to begin their job.

"We need to determine when she arrived home," said Goren.

"Well, the supermarket address is about a mile and a half from here. The bags contain cheese, cold cuts and containers of yogurt. No housewife with half a brain would cart perishables around in a hot car. She'd drive straight home.We should certainly still investigate to see if she made any post-market pit stops, but I'm inclined to doubt it."

The forensics team dusted for prints, photographed from every conceivable angle, tested for evidence of illegal drugs, etc. Then they evidence-bagged the purse, keys, the flyers, ice scraper, the groceries. M.E. Rogers put in an appearance. Her current best guess at cause of death was heat stroke. ..until she got the body on the table.

Goren pulled out his cell phone, called Deakins with an update. Then he and Katayeva headed back to their respective homes, knowing they were not expected to be in the office until noon.

It was around 12:30 a.m. when each made it home. Goren just flopped on his bed, so exhausted he fell asleep immediately. Katayeva quietly tiptoed into her house, reset the alarms, undressed and slipped into bed next to her husband, Jack. He didn't seem to wake up, but he did sense her presence, rolling over so he could snuggle up with her. Both were sound asleep in minutes.

Next Day, One Police Plaza.

"You've got a husband and two kids to deal with," said an unshaven Goren, rubbing his eyes, "How come you look better than I do?"

"Because I slept straight through until nearly 10 a.m. Jack woke up before the alarm went off, reset it for me, kept the kids out of our room, fed everyone breakfast, got them dressed and dropped off at school," replied Katayeva.

"Oh…"

"You need…..a husband. Or a wife. Or a something, Bobby." Hmmm, I was hoping he had gone to Eames' apartment, but apparently not. Too bad.

Kat rose from her desk, walked around to Goren, leaned over his shoulder.

"Why didn't you go to Eames'?" she asked softly, "Partners do that, you know."

Bobby took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled.

"It….uh…it was so late…I …I didn't want to …disturb her."

"If I phoned Eames right now and told her why you didn't go to her, what do you think she'd do?"

"Kick my ass," snorted Goren.

"Deservedly so," smirked Katayeva.

"What…umm, what do you do…when Jack isn't there? If you don't mind my asking…"

"I think our dogs are psychic. If Jack is traveling, one of the dogs is on my bed at night. When I was in Afghanistan, one was always with Jack at night. The other dog always lays in the hallway by the kids' bedrooms. Boris and Natasha seem to change off between the kids and the adults. Not sure how they decide who guards whom."

"And your partners?"

"Oh, Ben LoMonaco has stayed over at our house many times. Sofa bed in the family room. And one of the dogs will go to him."

"Jack doesn't mind?"

"As long as Ben's not in bed with us, no," laughed Kat, "Mack and Katie think Ben's part of the family, Bobby. Just like you and Eames are family."

Goren just nodded.

Moments later Captain Deakins was standing next to their desks.

"Goren, you look like crap," said Deakins, "What the hell happened?"

"Uh…we've already established that, Captain," said Bobby.

"And how is it you look bright eyed, Katayeva?"

"I have a husband who pampers me. I slept in until 10 a.m. Breakfast was waiting on the kitchen table. I told Goren he needs a husband…or a wife."

Deakins raised his eyebrows, looked a Goren. Goren just shrugged.

"Goren, if you haven't eaten yet, do so now. We don't need you dropping from hunger. Then you two head over to the M.E.'s."

Bobby and Kat hit a local deli/diner. Kat ordered a BLT and Goren, pastrami.

"No, he won't be having the pastrami. Make it a turkey club," said Katayeva.

Goren looked at her.

"You're already exhausted. Pastrami gives you heartburn. Bad idea," whispered Kat, "I depend on you to be functioning one hundred percent, partner."

Goren sighed. Looked up at the waitress.

"Turkey club is fine."

"And we'll each have the mesclun salad," added Katayeva.

The waitress nodded and left.

"Jeez, you're worse than my mother," hissed Bobby.

"Do I dare ask when some fresh vegetables last passed your lips?"

"How…how does Jack stand you?"

"Jack knows that when he eats right and takes care of his health, then he has plenty of energy for …..other activities," grinned Kat, "Instead of getting heartburn from eating something guaranteed to make you miserable. For a supposedly brilliant guy, Bobby, why do you treat yourself so poorly?"

Goren's elbows were on the table, his chin rested in his left hand. Rubbed his face with his right hand.

"Truce."

"Truce?"

"Change the subject...to, uh…something other than me."

"Gee, you're one of my favorite subjects," chuckled Katayeva.

Goren shot her a look. Katayeva just rolled her eyes.

"You have not yet figured out that I am not intimidated by your size, your intellect or your expressions, have you?"

"It was worth a try," sighed Goren.

"Save it for the perps, Goren," Kat snorted a laugh.

Their food arrived. Both detectives dug in. Goren was ravenous. This was his first meal of the day. He gobbled his salad and every crumb of his sandwich.

"How about some nice fresh fruit salad for dessert?"

"No pie? That …uh…has fruit."

"Fresh fruit, Bobby." She told the waitress to bring two fresh fruit salads.

Goren nearly inhaled his serving.

"Mmm…that was reallay good."

"It's been so long since you ate real food, that you're actually surprised that it's good."

Goren looked sheepish.

As they left the diner Kat picked up two apples from the fruit bowl and paid for them.

"Afternoon snack."

Location: The Medical Examiner's Office

Goren and Katayeva were pulling on the latex gloves as they walked in the door. Dr. Rogers looked up as the pair approached.

"Good afternoon, detectives."

"Dr. Rogers, what can you tell us?"

"Caroline Martin, age 53, cause of death still looks like heat stroke in a closed car. However, there are other factors in play here."

Goren raised his eyebrows at Rogersm, as he circled the body like a predator. Katayeva was circling in the opposite direction. I wonder if they'll walk into each other?

"Mrs. Martin had cancer surgery about two years ago. Underwent chemo/radiation. But the cancer returned and was spreading. I already spoke with her oncologist at Sloan Kettering this morning. She had a life expectancy of six months. So far it had not disrupted her life and activities, but it was certainly coming."

"And Mrs. Martin knew this information?"

"Yes, according to her oncologist."

Goren and Katayeva examined Mrs. Martin's forehead, which was bruised from hitting the steering wheel. Nothing else remarkable about the body.

"Tox screen negative except for a dose of ibuprofen. A dose being two tablets. Certainly can't kill yourself on that."

"I consider ibuprofen the best pain relieve ever invented. I'll bet that's what she was using it for. And it doesn't have the side effects of those prescriptions that turn you into a zombie," observed Katayeva.

"I would guess she was in some pain," said Rogers.

"Would you classify this as a suicide, Dr. Rogers?" asked Goren.

"Not based on what I have here, even with the cancer info. It would take more than that for me to make that call. Suicide must be very definitive. It has a major effect on the decedent's family emotionally. It can even effect their finances, if life insurance benefits are denied due to suicide."

Goren and Katayeva just nodded. They knew that whatever the rest of the story was, it's their job to figure it out.

As they left the M.E.'s Goren made an involuntary shake-off movement. Katayeva caught it.

"You got that right. We are walking into a soap opera. There is nothing simple about this."

"I feel a headache coming on," said Goren, rubbing his forehead.

"I got the Advil™," said Katayeva, pulling a small plastic bottle from her purse.