Deep in the night, awareness returned as he woke from a sound sleep. His dreams were getting more and more vivid. He actually felt...different, in a vague, indefinable way. It wasn't a new dream...but something was different. He couldn't quite explain it. He rolled onto his back, jerking around in surprise when he rolled into another body in the bed. She was curled on her side, sleeping soundly. Turning onto his side, he propped himself up on an elbow and watched her sleep. Well, damn! It hadn't been a dream after all. Reaching out, he gently brushed her hair back from her face. Her only response was a soft sigh, which ignited a stronger response in him. No...let her sleep...you don't want to friggin' scare her off...

He softly kissed her forehead and she shifted closer to him. Obligingly, he let her nestle against him and he closed his arms around her, placing another loving kiss against her temple. He felt himself settle and relax, and sleep came easy for a change.

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The rising sun was just beginning to chase away the shadows in the bedroom. She turned in his arms, half expecting him to be awake, watching her sleep. Normally the thought of anyone just watching her sleep would be very unsettling to her, but in this instance, because it was him, it wasn't. Not at all. In fact, it was something she expected from him and she was almost disappointed to find him still sleeping. Resting on his side facing her, his right arm was draped over her while the other was tucked beneath his pillow. Moving closer, she gently kissed his chest, allowing her lips to linger and feel the slow beat of his heart beneath them. One hand came to rest against his abdomen while the fingers of the other strayed across his side. He stirred but didn't yet awaken. Shifting her position in the bed, she reached up to kiss the hollow at the base of his throat, her fingers moving to stroke warm skin. A soft groan and he moved again. Slowly, his eyes slid open halfway and he looked at her. His lips moved to form a sleepy half-smile. "Good morning," he whispered.

Never before had she thought that sleepy could be so sexy. She kissed him and whispered back, "Good morning."

Then she moved her body closer, continued to trail her fingers lightly across his skin and kissed him again.

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At 9:00 on the dot, Hugo Cressmoor stepped from the elevator onto the 11th floor of 1PP. He approached Goren and Eames at a brisk walk. "You've had all weekend, detectives," he said without preamble. "What have you found out?"

If he was honest, Goren would admit he found it was a helluva long way down to the bottom of the whiskey barrel and a hard, painful climb back out. In spite of the way his partner had woken him this morning, a memory he needed to suppress if he was to do any thinking at all, the vague remnant of a headache beat a slow tattoo behind his eyes. Eames watched him shift uncomfortably for a moment before she came to his aid. "Quit messing with the major, Goren," she said lightly, meeting his eyes briefly before turning her gaze to the major. "Excuse my partner, major. He's in an odd mood today. We reviewed all the interviews we conducted last week and selected the ones most likely to be able to help us. We were just about to start calling them to come back in and look at the sketch our artist did with Kelly. We would like to show it to Jeff as well to see if he knows the man."

Cressmoor nodded. "I can bring Jeff in this evening, say 6:30."

"That would be fine."

Cressmoor turned his attention back to Goren. "My wife and I had a discussion about you." Goren groaned to himself, but gave no outward sign of a reaction to the major. "Kelly enjoyed your visit and my wife was very impressed with you. She said you made Kelly laugh, and that was something that had been missing from the time she woke up. I am grateful to you for giving that back to us. I may have been a bit...heavy-handed last week. For that I do apologize. I am angry and frustrated, and I just want you to find this son-of-a-bitch. Surely you can understand that."

"I do understand, and we have every intention of finding him. How is Kelly doing?"

"Much better. She is being transferred to the regular pediatric floor this afternoon. She did want me to ask you to come by and visit her again."

Goren's soft smile was genuine. "We would like that."

Cressmoor nodded. "Have you had any luck finding Gloria?"

"No, sir."

"If I hear from her, I will let you know. Keep me informed."

He turned and headed out of the squad room. Eames snorted in annoyance. "I don't get that. Last week he's out for your blood and now he's all sugar and spice? Is he bipolar?"

Goren laughed quietly and looked at her across the desks. "When did we go through the interviews?"

"We didn't. I did, on Saturday when you were busy not answering your phone."

He felt a pang of guilt at that, not even considering the late hours he'd put in alone most of the last week. "I-I'm sorry about that, Eames."

She smiled at him. "You did do most of the paperwork last week. Call us even."

"Still," he said quietly, leaning forward. "I, uh, I should have answered my phone."

"I agree. Don't let it happen again." She handed him a stack of files. "These are the witnesses we need to recall. Have fun."

He sighed softly, but took the files with no argument. After flipping open the first file, he glanced up at her. She smiled at him. It took an effort for him to look away as he picked up the phone.

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The files were once again spread out over the table in one of the conference rooms. They had two witnesses scheduled after lunch and then they planned to head over to the hospital to see Kelly. Goren was trying to review the initial interviews with the eleven witnesses they were recalling but he wasn't having much luck, and he was getting increasingly frustrated. Normally he had no trouble concentrating but today seemed to be an exception. Every time his partner came into the room, his brain went on hiatus. Between last night and early this morning, there was plenty for it to dwell on, and he found it annoying that his mind had now chosen to join his body in rebelling against the small part of him that was struggling to be reasonable. There was work to be done, even if everything was stalled at the moment. He really needed to review these interviews. Work now, play later. But it was the play part of it his mind wanted to focus on and his body was going right along with it, compounding the issue. He needed to get a grip, to re-establish his equilibrium. Just when he would begin to get a handle on it, though, Eames would come into the room, offsetting his balance all over again just by being there.

To make matters worse, she had removed her jacket. She wore a collared shirt, open in the front, her bare, nicely-muscled arms fully exposed. Just barely visible where the curve of her neck disappeared beneath the fabric were a couple of small bruises, and he smiled at the memory of putting them there. She braced her hands on the table and studied the schedule of interviews on the paper in front of her, a small frown creasing her brow in concentration. Her frown deepened and she picked up the paper, moving over a few steps to stand directly across the table from him. Leaning forward, she pointed to the paper and started to speak. His eyes unconsciously strayed past her neckline and his brain disengaged until she cuffed the side of his head. "Pay attention," she snapped, but there was a smile in her eyes.

Pay attention? Oh, he was paying attention, all right. His attention just wasn't directed where she wanted it. Struggling, he drew his gaze to her face, fighting the powerful temptation to let it wander. There was a glint of amusement in her eye as she tapped the paper on the table in front of her and said, "Look, you've got two interviews for Tuesday at three."

He looked at the paper, forcing his mind to translate the letters into words. The two names floated around in his mind until they clicked. His eyes cleared. "Oh, I, uh, this one should be Thursday. Sorry about that."

She changed the second 'Tuesday' to 'Thursday' and turned her eyes back to him. He was watching her intently. She smiled and lightly tapped his chin with her finger, letting it trail lightly along his jawline for a brief moment before her hand dropped away and she turned from the table. Leaving the room, she returned to her desk and sat down, lifting her coffee cup and holding it in both hands. She couldn't help but notice her partner's distractibility. Normally, she would find it annoying except for the fact that she wasn't doing much better. She felt uncomfortably too much like a teenager with a new boyfriend. He had removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt, and rolled his sleeves halfway up his forearms. She couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted to watch the well-defined muscles in his arms or the seductive curve of his neck and the soft hair that rested at the open collar of his shirt. Taking frequent, unscheduled mental forays back to his bedroom, she could not keep her body from reacting to the memory of what had transpired there. Thank God she wasn't a guy. If her own wanderings were any indication of his state, she did not blame him one bit for hiding out in the conference room.

In spite of the great effort she had put into keeping her mind on track, it had taken her far too long to notice the scheduling error on the paper in front of her. Turning her attention to him as she pointed out the mistake, she was surprised to find him looking down the front of her shirt. Oh, Bobby...she thought sympathetically. But when she got no reaction after calling his name, she couldn't help gently smacking the side of his head. It seemed to serve the purpose of jumpstarting his brain, at least long enough for him to answer her. She hoped no one else would notice what was going on, but everyone seemed wrapped up in their own work, much to her relief.

They really needed to get their acts together. If only she could keep her mind away from the memories of what he did to her body...oh...there it went again. Concentrate...easier said than done. Sighing, she took a drink from her coffee cup, frowning at the cold fluid that flowed past her lips. When did it have time to get cold? Glancing up at the time, she sighed. 12:42. Time to get ready to re-interview Mrs. Kowalski.