A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed! It's a bit depressing looking at hits vs reviews, but oh well. I meant to mention last chapter- that although this is a BA fic, I'm trying to have it develop organically, so it'll be a while, if it gets resolved at all in this fic. But I will have it chock full of moments. I didn't mean for this chapter to be this long, but Bobby and Alex wouldn't stop talking. Sigh.

Disclaimer: No harm, no sue. I don't own them.

She hated phones. Especially annoying ones that sat on her bedside table, buzzing incessantly at- she glanced over at her alarm clock – 6:05 am. Letting out a low disgusted growl- she flipped the covers up over her head creating a cocoon, and reached one arm out to grab her phone. Glancing at the display – Goren- she groaned again, louder this time. Flipping open the phone she put it to her ear. "I hate you."

"And good morning to you too sunshine." Bobby's voice was what it always was in the mornings – chipper. She hated chipper- she hated the term , she hated chipper things, chipper sounds, chipper people.

"Is someone dead, Goren? Because it is still dark out and my alarm doesn't go off for another forty five minutes, so someone had better be dead." She heard his chuckle come across the line and felt her irritation rise in response. She really hated him right now.

"Aren't you a joy to wake up to. I couldn't sleep so I came in an hour ago-"

"At five in the morning? Bobby-"

"I know. But I got here and the files on Collier's co-workers came in, and some new lab results from CSU." She could hear paper rustling as he spoke, and she sighed in defeat. Pulling herself out of bed she stood and started towards her bathroom..

"God, does no one in the department sleep?" she mumbled incoherently as she stepped into the washroom, gasping as her feet hit cold tile.

"Well, we never close – are you all right?" he asked at her gasp. She laughed lightly in response.

"No. I am up too early, and my floor is cold Bobby." Her voice seemed to be wandering dangerously towards petulance as she spoke.

"If you're here in twenty minutes, I'll leave now for your usual cup of sugar with just a touch of coffee from the cafe." His voice was wheedling and she frowned at her phone, wishing she could glare at him in person.

"I want something to eat too."

"Absolutely-" his voice brightened now that he had gotten his way - "What do you want?"

"You know what I like, surprise me. And it'll be thirty minutes, not twenty- I need to shower." She smiled into the phone at the sudden lack of response on the other end. Leaning over, she twisted the knobs of her shower, letting the water run and heat before she stepped in.

"Uh- sure Eames. I'll be waiting." He hung up the phone abruptly and she flipped it shut, sticking her tongue out at the inanimate object.

"Aren't you always?"

Forty minutes later, she stepped off the elevator at work and stalked over to their joined desks. Dropping her purse and her bag underneath it, she glared at Bobby's empty chair, and wandered over to the briefing room they had taken over. Bobby was inside, sipping coffee and looking as if he had slept a solid ten hours the night before. His suit coat hung on his chair, and he was dressed in a crisp shirt and tie. She decided then and there to hate him for the rest of the day. She glanced down at her dark blue jeans and faded t shirt – a throwback from collage and one of the most comfortable things she owned. Rolling her eyes slightly, she waked in, sat in the chair across from him, and took what she assumed was her cup off the table.

He pushed a brown paper bag across the table without glancing up. "Muffin."

"Yes, cupcake?" she teased him, taking delight in his gaze shooting up to her in surprise. She grinned at him, opening the bag and beginning to pick apart the blueberry muffin inside. She hated blueberries, unless they were in muffins. She wasn't surprised that Bobby remembered.

"Funny Eames." he spoke dryly and she felt the urge to laugh out loud at him.

"Aww honey- I was just 'muffin' a minute ago, and now it's back to Eames. Love comes and goes I guess, huh?" He glared at her, and she just smiled wider – if she was coming in early, she was damn well going to get some fun out of it. He sighed across from her, and bent his head again.

"I see it's going to be one of those days." he muttered, and she crumpled up her now empty bag and tossed it across the room into the trash.

"One of those days where you wake me at an ungodly hour and I spend the day torturing you for it?" She calmly sipped her coffee after she spoke. "Yes, yes it is." She watched him shift in his chair, much like a child waiting to be scolded by his mother and smiled into her coffee. Deciding she had had enough – for now – she decided to give him a break. "So – you wake my at six for some deeply interesting files, and here I am, and you don't produce."

He seemed to relax slightly, it was amazing how tense he got when they discussed anything non work related- and pushed a pile of papers at her. Standing, he moved over to the white board, writing some information on it. "His Captain is Geoffrey Sims – been in the force for almost 30 years now. Clean record, very few complaints files against him. Then there is Detectives Frances and Davis – Tom and Ed respectively. Frances is near retirement, been with the force all his life- has a few write ups- especially recently. Old school cop – new PC world, that type thing." He waved his right hand as he wrote. "Davis is the newbie of the squad, only been there three years. He is cleaner than a whistle. Top of his class – worked the beat- meticulous record, took his detective exam, passed with flying colors, worked Homicide for a while, then transferred to CCS." Her stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face as he spoke, and looking at the board.

"Sounds like your typical squad." she spoke, glancing at the files he had pushed over to her. He walked over to a table, picking up a thick file, and came back to the table, dropping it with a heavy thud.

"Yeah. And this-" he gestured to the thick file- "is Theresita Casas' file." Her eyes widened as she took it in, and glanced up at Bobby. "It's not- not as bad as it looks. She's been reprimanded- alot, for her 'methods' during cases. She tends to step on the darker side of the line – does things to get her perps that she's been reprimanded for. She also got a lot of write ups while working Narcotics and Homicide. She didn't deal well with the families- victims, that type of thing. One write up called her cold- another selfish- one complainant called her a heartless bitch-" As he spoke he pulled out the various pieces of paper corresponding with each complaint. "- but, once she transferred to CCS, the complaints slowed down, and once she was partnered with Collier, after about a year – they stopped all together."

Frowning, Alex examined the sheets in front of her. Looking up at Bobby, she grimaced. "And this helps us how?"

"Well, it doesn't – not really, but it'll give us a handle on her when we go interview her tomorrow morning."

"You scheduled an interview?" she spoke quickly, watching Bobby with an unreadable expression. He met her eyes and shook his head quickly.

"No- she called Ross and scheduled it. She wants to help- knows she needs to talk to us. She did ask that it be at her home, instead of here though." His tone was soft, and almost apologetic.

"I'm sorry-" He waved her apology off though, and searched through the papers for another file folder, this one much slimmer.

"It's fine, Eames. Here are the CSU reports. All the blood was from the victim, they didn't find and prints other than Collier's and Casas' – which isn't unusual considering they lived next door to one another." His tone was impersonal, and she could tell that his mind was completely absorbed in the scene. Pulling another sheet out, he slid it across the desk, pushing it towards her, and pointing at several highlighted lines. "These are the LUD's for his cell and house phone. His partner, tried to call him 14 times that morning, respectively – five times on the house phone, and nine times on the cell."

"Wonder what she was trying to get a hold of him for. When's the first call?"

"Uh," he tilted his head slightly, reading upside down. "Nine fifteen."

"Well, that gives us a time frame, doesn't it? We know at nine fifteen the killer was there – otherwise don't you think he'd answer her call?" She studied the bright yellow highlighted calls as she spoke.

"Well- I mean he could have-"

"Goren, do you ever not answer my calls?"

"Well no-"

"And do I ever not answer yours?" She stopped abruptly, sucking in a breath as she saw the shadow cross his face. She had not answered his call. And look how that had turned out.Shit, stupid Alex, stupid.

"Not willingly- no." His voice was soft as he answered and she felt his eyes studying her, as she bent her face towards the files. Deciding that a change of subject was due, she switched topics abruptly.

"What about the syringe?" she asked him, glancing across at the photos.

His face brightened at the change of topic, and he leaned forward further, preparing to go into what she called 'Bobby lecture mode'. She rolled her eyes slightly, but was secretly relives his mind had been taken off the subject of her kidnapping. "Interestingly enough, not Rohypnol- not that I expected it to be. Roofies are usually given in drinks, so I was right about the coffee. One of the mugs held traces of the drug. We need to look into it actually- the chemical make up of the Rohypnol can tell us where it was manufactured. Mexican forms of the drug usually contain more-"

"Goren." she spoke sharply to get him back on point. "The syringe?"

"Oh yeah- anyway interestingly enough, the syringe was filled with Repronex, a gonadotropin which is used in-"

"Fertility drugs?" He glanced up in surprise, and she she resisted the urge to smack him. "My sister took them Bobby – remember? They help the body produce several eggs per cycle instead of one. She took them for harvesting, but some women take them to increase their chances of fertilization. But why would a single man, with no wife or girlfriend that we know of, have them in his house?"

"Well, in some men, the gonadotropin can help with hormonal imbalance, resulting in low sperm count, or low mobility-"

"Shit, where do you come up with this stuff?" she glared across at him, and to her surprise, he laughed out loud.

"I googled it Eames. Before you got here." She grinned at him, and pulled a face.

"I can't believe you touched a computer- isn't that part of my job description? Right under sidekick?" She laughed under her breath, but the sound died in her throat at his expression.

"You are not my sidekick, Eames! You know I don't think that- don't you?" He was staring at her intently, his eyes focused on her like spotlights, and she felt herself grow uncomfortable just from his gaze. Flushing, she glanced down, looking at her hands.

"Of course I know that Bobby- but let's face it, I am considered-"

"I don't give a shit what other people consider you, as long as we know different, right?" His voice was still intense and she could still feel his eyes on her. She took a deep breath, vaguely aware that her skin felt heated, as she glanced up at him.

"Right." He still stared, and she leaned across the table and stared him down, her gaze serious. "Right, Bobby. We know." She glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was almost eight now. "Shoot – I have to go change before Sims comes in for his interview."

"Why?" he asked mildly.

"Well, because jeans and my Star Wars t-shirt from 1984 don't really count as work clothes?" She spoke sarcastically. Truth was she was also a bit annoyed by it as well- it was one thing to think 'oh he just never looks at me that way' it was quite another to be smacked in the face with proof. Shaking her head, she walked across the bullpen towards their desks to get her bag with her work clothes.

"Eames- wait-" he called, following her and quickly catching up. "I didn't mean- I just thought it was a black shirt – there's nothing written on it-" he waved a hand in front of her cheat, but avoiding looking down, clearly embarrassed.

"It's been well loved." She spoke in a exasperated tone, glancing down. She noticed that he was right, the picture had long since faded, only leaving a ghost of a darker image. "Sorry – I thought you just didn't notice what I was-" she stopped before she could finish. What in the hell would he think about her saying that? Like she expected him to notice?

He just nodded, rubbing a finger along behind his ear as he looked towards the bank of elevators that would soon carry their colleagues to work any minute now. Taking advantage of his averted gaze, she grabbed her bag and high tailed it toward the women's washroom, and escape.

"Thanks for coming in Captain Sims." Her tone was detached, and crisp, as she and Bobby sat down side by side, across from the Captain. He was an older man, but still fit, and had that hard ass look about him that all Captains seemed to acquire.

"It's not a problem, detectives. I just want the bastard who did this caught." His voice was gruff, and his hands clenched on his hat as he spoke. He was dressed in his dress blues, clearly intending on going to the funeral from here.

"Alright, so how was Collier to work with? Any issues off the record, or problems?" Bobby started off, clearly stepping out and taking the aggressive role. She sat back, and waited – this game was familiar to her, and they often switched roles when trying to get information.

"He was a good man." Sims glared at Bobby as he spoke, before transferring his gaze to her. "He had a great background in military intelligence- but after his parents died – well.." he trailed off, his gaze defocussing as he thought. "I've had him for ten years- and I almost never had to write Mark up. He was a good cop- played by the book, toed the line. Hell, he even managed to get MJ in line, which was a feat I feared would never be accomplished."

"Almost never, sir?" Bobby's voice cut across the captains reminiscing. Sims frowned at Bobby in confusion. "You uh- you said you 'almost never' had to write him up. When did you have to?" Sims frown deepened in response to the question.

"Five years ago. Mark was chasing his parents case – it was the reason he wanted cold case, so that he could still work it in his off time. Took him five years, but he found evidence that nailed the killers- there were two of them. He went off, half cocked, didn't wait for back up- hell he didn't even wait for his partner. Took off on his own, and almost got himself and her killed." The captain spoke in a neutral tone, no censure was discernible. Alex made a note on the pad in front of her, exchanging glances with Bobby, before he continued.

"What happened?"

"He got caught in a fire fight with the suspects. He had no backup, but managed to take one of them down. When MJ showed up- she shot the other suspect, but not before Mark took a round to the chest- with no vest on. He almost killed himself." Sims glanced down at his hat, looking back up at Goren with a glare. "It's in his file."

"No, actually , it's not. There is mention of an incident reported, but IAB has the detailed version, and well- getting a file out them is like.." She spoke in a wry tone, using humor to relax the man in front of them. He grinned at her, and she smiled back.

"Don't I know it. Damn bastards at IAB. Anyway, after that – I don't know if Mark was terrified by MJ's threat to kick his ass to hell and back if he ever did something like that again, or if it was just a one time thing- but he was clean after that. Never a toe out of line."

"What kinds of cases were they working on before Det. Collier was killed?" She asked in a gentle tone, pen at the ready and a apologetic expression. "We haven't gotten the case files yet."

"Because it's just one case file. I had to pass it off to Frances and Davis. It was a body – was found two weeks ago, turned out to be a missing pregnant woman who had disappeared three years ago. Mark and MJ had been working on it for a week or so – re interviewing family and friends, going over the autopsy, waiting for a forensic anthropologist – that type of thing. They didn't have a clear suspect. I don't really think that whoever did this to Mark had anything to do with the case."

She nodded, making some notes in the files, while Bobby listened and searched his case. "Uh- tell me Captain, did Mark have a steady girlfriend?" he mumbled as he searched, but pitched his voice loud enough to be heard.

"Uh- no, none that I know of. Ask MJ, she'd know better than I would. My detectives don't exactly discuss their private lives with me Detective Goren." He shifted in his chair, clearly becoming impatient with the interview.

"One more thing Captain-" Bobby spoke in a placating tone that appeared to grate on Sims' nerves judging by how he stiffened. "Had you noticed any changes in Det. Collier's behaviors in the weeks before his murder?"

"No." Sims' snapped tightly. "Mark was an outgoing guy , friendly, upbeat – he seemed the same as usual."

"Alright, thank you for your time Captain." She spoke soothingly, bridging the gap Bobby had left. "If you think of anything else at all, call. We may need to contact you at a later date." Sims smiled down at her from his standing position and thanked her, before glaring at Bobby again and exiting the room. She returned her attention to her notes and smiled slightly.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just nice being the good cop occasionally." She smiled as she spoke, and he stared at her.

"I wasn't the bad cop – just the- the" he paused for a moment, and she looked up from the legal pad she had been staring at.

"Heartless one? I know. So-" she switched the subject swiftly - "who do we have next? Frances, or Davis?"

Bobby glanced down at his sheet and looked up. "Frances-" he spoke quickly, glancing at his watch. "-and then Davis and we have to be quick. Funeral starts at eleven, so they'll need to be out of here by then."

"Alright, let's get it done."

Several hours later they found themselves in the briefing room again. Bobby was pacing and staring at the white board as usual, and she was trying to type up transcripts of the interviews just conducted, while scooping rice out of a cardboard container. She dropped the box, sighing in disgust as she continued typing. She hated paperwork. Moreover she hated mid case paperwork, as Bobby tended to forget it existed. He usually made it up to her though- but doing all of the closing paper work himself.

Frowning, she deleted the typo she had just made and corrected it, sitting back and saving the document. The interviews with Davis and Frances had gone amazingly like Capt. Sims interview. No Mark wasn't acting odd. He was a great guy. Good solve rate- one of the best in CCS country wide. No they didn't know if he had a girlfriend, or who his friends outside of work were. Ask his partner. They were hitting a brick wall with physical evidence, whoever the guy had been, he hadn't left a trace of himself at the scene. They knew the Rohypnol had come from Mexico and that was about it. They had no way of knowing exactly which part of the country it had comes from, and no way of finding out. They were still working the fertility drug angle, but there were a lot of specialists in the New York area, and none of them would release confidential information without a warrant.

She heard a crackling sound, and glanced up to see Bobby tilting his head left and then right, cracking his neck as he went. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she crumpled up a loose sheet of paper and threw it at him. It bounced off of his head with amazing accuracy, and she started typing again before he could turn around.

"Funny Eames." He tossed it back at her after scooping it off the floor. She dodged left, and it sailed past her head, causing him to glare at her and drop into the chair beside her. "Need help?" He offered, which she should have at least given him points for, but his tone clearly said 'please God don't make me sit and do that.' Rolling her eyes, she saved the document again, and shut the computer, turning to stare at him.

"No cupcake, I just finished. But let me applaud your impeccable sense of timing , as always." To his credit, he flushed under her gaze.

"Sorry- I was uh- just-"

"Having an impromptu chiro session?" She spoke in a gentle teasing voice, smiling to let him know that she was teasing. Sometimes with Bobby you had to beat him with the fact that it was a joke. Not so much now as in the early years of their partnership, though. "I hate my laptop right now." She muttered, transferring her look to the silent computer.

"Want me to kick it's ass?" He leaned over, giving the computer his best glare, and she found herself choking on her laughter.

"You wouldn't stand a chance, cupcake."

"Still with that? Do you know the meaning of overusing a joke?" He glanced over at her, his eyes light, and a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

"Not really.. no." She grinned and stretched back, raising her arms over her head as she glanced at the time. Three pm. Damn – still hours to go and nothing to go on. She craned her neck around, her eyes traveling across the photos as she did so. Settling back into to position, she turned to find Bobby watching her, and she sighed. "So , what now?"

"Oh what all of a sudden I'm the leader?" he snorted under his breath and she elbowed him lightly.

"All of a sudden my ass, half of my day is spent chasing you trying to figure out what the hell you just figured out." He opened his mouth to retaliate, but the phone on his belt buzzed before he could get anything out. Frowning at her, he answered it, speaking in brief sentences. When he had finished, he nudged her slightly with his shoulder.

"Want something to do? That was Casas – she wants to do her interview now. Doesn't want to sit home and think about it. She seems kind of nervous." He spoke in a hopeful tone, and she glared at him.

"Got all that in a three minute conversation, did you?" She folded her arms across her chest, staring up at him as he stood.

"Haven't you heard? I'm a genius. Come on." He handed her coat to her, and grabbed the keys from the table where she had dropped them earlier.

"Maybe we can get a damn break in this case." She muttered as she followed him out the door to interview Theresita Casas, and hopefully get some useful answers.