AN: Ouch, no reviews on the last two chapters! Ah well. Hopefully this one is a little better. I think one more after this and it will all be over. :)

Chapter 11

Squad cars from the local force quietly crawled up the gravel path that doubled as a driveway to the seemingly deserted cabin.

Goren's hope of finding them here sunk as he saw the cabin, nestled in a quarter of a mile from the road, was completely dark.

The officers exited the three cars and slowly approached the front door, guns drawn. Then he saw it. A flutter of movement from the window next to the door. A blackout curtain. He wasn't the only one to see it. The team scrambled to the front door, while a second team went to the rear of the cabin. A local officer kicked in the door, and they flooded in. Goren motioned two officers to the right, he and Eames went left.

The cabin was dimly lit and sparsely furnished. They followed a short hallway to a door at the end.

BAM!

"Shots fired!" Eames yelled.

Goren kicked in the door.

Emmie lay on the floor on her side, her back to the detectives. Nicole stood over her, but swung the gun up to face Goren and Eames.

Goren barely blinked as he squeezed the trigger. Nicole stumbled backward and dropped the gun before she fell over, clutching at her abdomen.

"Officer down!" Goren called, "Get a bus!" He dropped down to Emmie and saw she was bleeding from her right shoulder.

Eames ran to Wallace, kicking the gun further away from her.

"Two buses," Eames yelled out, as officers poured into the small room. Someone flipped the light switch and an overhead lamp lit up the unfurnished room. "Suspect down," Eames added.

Emmie looked up at Goren, who unlocked the handcuffs and helped Emmie put pressure on her shoulder.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

She nodded. "If someone can un-duct-tape my feet," she said.

One of the officers crouched down with a pocket knife and obliged as Ross made his way into the room and took in the scene.

"Ok people, let's set up the crime scene, and someone get to the road to flag in EMS," he said.

Officers scattered to their duties, as two stayed with Wallace.

"Captain, we're going to transport Handsen," Goren said, helping the girl to her feet.

Ross nodded and Eames and Goren helped Emmie to one of the squad cars, racing off to the hospital.

Emmie lay in a bed in Trauma 1, becoming more than irritated at the gaggle of doctors around her, prepping her for surgery.

"Really, it's just a flesh wound," she insisted groggily.

"We have to get the bullet out," one doctor insisted for the eighth time. "We can't stitch you up with it still in there. Just relax, we'll get you to the OR in a few minutes."

A bang, and the ER doors flew open as EMS ran in with another stretcher, one medic on top of the victim performing chest compressions.

"GSW, upper torso," he called out as his partner pushed the stretcher into Trauma 2, followed by several local police officers.

The doctor groaned and turned to run over to the new commotion. "It must be a full moon."

Emmie's vision blurred, refocused, and blurred again. She looked down at the IV in her hand, pumping pain meds into her bloodstream.

That is some good shit, she thought to herself.

Cottons-Madison General Hospital

Friday, April 6, 2007

6:44am

The small waiting area seemed even smaller than it had before they'd fallen asleep, if it were possible. Ross had been called back to the city about three hours previously and took most of the task force with him, insisting on hourly updates from Goren and Eames before he left, which they both promised. Upon his departure, they headed for the small, private waiting room usually reserved for families and promptly fell asleep.

The local force had secured the crime scene and taken Goren's statement, but he'd have to give it again to IA once they returned to New York. The locals also placed two officers to guard Nicole, who was in surgery in the room next to Emmie.

At first Eames wasn't sure what had woken her, but then she saw the doctor standing in front of her. She sat up straight, more than a little embarrassed to notice that he'd walked in on her using her partner's shoulder as a pillow. She less than gently nudge Goren awake, who snorted mid-snore and opened his eyes.

"Detectives," the doctor greeted them. "Emily Handsen is out of surgery. She's just waking up if you want to see her. She's doing fine, but we're going to keep her here for a few days to monitor and make sure she doesn't develop any infections."

"And Wallace?" Goren asked hoarsely.

"Still in surgery," the doctor answered. "Her wound is substantially more severe. I'll keep you updated."

"You want to talk to Emmie?" Eames asked once the doctor had left.

Goren sighed and considered. "Once things… come to light… I might be asked to step off this case," he said. "We'll both go, see if she's ready to make a statement. Then I'll talk to her."

Eames nodded.

Emmie picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Her shoulder was throbbing, but the pain meds took care of most of the pain. The downside was that even though she'd just woken up from an almost four hour, anesthetically induced nap, not long after the several hour nap before that, she felt like she was ready for another one.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. 7:10. She sighed. What is on at 7am? She started flipping through the channels.

News.

News.

Paid programming.

News.

With a frustrated sigh, she dropped the remote and left it on the local news.

"…Some excitement for local law enforcement early this morning as a raid on a cabin on County Road 16 ended with two people shot," the anchorwoman announced. Emmie looked at the screen and saw an overhead shot of herself and Goren and Eames making their way to a squad car. "The raid was conducted with officers from the NYPD, and as you can see here from our news chopper—"

Emmie, horrified, grabbed for the remote and pressed the power button. The screen flickered, but came back on as the story continued. She pressed the button again, and the images stayed one the screen. Frustrated, she pressed repeatedly on the button.

"Here," a voice said. Emmie turned her head to see Goren and Eames step into her room, and Goren reached up and pressed the power button on the TV, which finally turned off.

"Thank you," Emmie sighed, relieved.

"How are you feeling?" Eames asked gently.

Emmie groaned loudly. "Does that answer your question?" She smirked. "They've got some good meds here, though. I might not go back to New York."

Her attempt at a joke fell flat, and her smirk faded.

"I'm kidding," she said. "I'll probably end up back in New York."

"I know you're just out of surgery," Eames said. "But do you feel like going over what happened?"

Emmie drew in a breath and let it out slowly, moistened her lips, feeling the stitches along her bottom one. "I guess now's as good a time as any, right?" She forced a smile, then let it drop. "I don't remember a whole lot," she said honestly. "I was sitting in my car, an SUV pulled up, I thought it was yours. Obviously it wasn't. There was a fight, she stuck me with something. I woke up in her little cabin." Emmie held up one of her heavily bandaged wrists. "She had me handcuffed to the radiator." She lowered her eyes, suddenly finding the plain white sheet covering her more interesting than her visitors. "She tried to mess with my head, she said she had killed my mother, out of…" She shrugged. "Jealousy, I guess. That Brady had fathered me, but wouldn't have kids with her." She raised her eyes. "How fucking sick is she?"

Goren nodded. "Nicole was sexually abused as a child," he explained.

"Oh." Emmie looked down at her hands. "That explains a lot."

Eames let it marinate for a moment before continuing. "What happened when we came in?"

"We heard the cars pull up," Emmie continued. "She left the room, and I managed to break the pipe I was cuffed to, but she came back with a gun. I rushed her, we struggled, the gun went off, you guys came in."

She looked at Eames. "That's really all I can remember, and even a lot of that is kind of fuzzy."

Eames nodded. "Thanks Emmie." She offered a supportive smile.

"Oh," Emmie said, grabbing Eames attention back. "What happened to Nicole? I mean, I know—" She looked at Goren, "You shot her, but… I mean, did she survive?"

"She's still in surgery," Goren answered.

Emmie nodded, and pretended not to notice Eames quietly slipping toward the door.

"And Rick?" she asked, glancing at the now closing door.

"We found him," Goren told her. "He's going to be fine, just a few bruises. He's at Bellevue."

Emmie nodded again, looking to her hands, then to the door, and finally back to Goren. "Your partner sucks at sneaking out of rooms," she said blatantly.

Goren looked to the door, then to Emmie. "Yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, down to the back of his neck, looking around the room. His eyes fell on a chair, and he pulled it over next to Emmie and sat.

Emmie was bewildered. "Okay, have a seat, detective," she said, not bothering to even try to keep the confusion out of her voice.

"Um, call me Bobby, please," Goren said. "I actually… What I want to talk about is more like a… non-business type of conversation."

Emmie stiffened. "O-Okay," she said slowly. She thought she had an idea of where this was going, and she fully intended to head it off at the start. Now it made sense that Eames had tried to not so successfully leave the room discreetly. "Bobby. Um. . .I thought that you had realized. . .I actually have a boyfriend, but even if I didn't, I don't think it would be entirely appropriate to. . .I mean, you are older—" she immediately held out her non-IV hand in an 'I'm-sorry-I-didn't-mean-it-like-that' gesture "—I'm not saying you're old. . . But I'm young and— well, I'm younger, and—"

Finally realizing what was going on in her mind, Bobby held up his hands. "No, no, Emmie," he cut her off. "It's not that kind of a. . .non-business conversation."

"Oh thank God," Emmie sighed, relieved. "So what's up then?"

Goren took a breath. "Okay," he started. "This might sound a little…" He moved his head around, trying to come up with the right word. "…weird," he hesitantly decided on, "but just bear with me."

Emmie nodded patiently, waiting for him to go on.

Goren opened his mouth to go on. But he was stuck. He'd gone over and over it in his head, different ways of approaching the subject, but now that she was giving him the opportunity, he couldn't start.

Emmie smiled nervously. "Well I know you're not about to tell me my dog died," she said. "I don't have a dog. But if I did have a dog, I would think that you were about to tell me he died." He looked up at her and she reconsidered. "No, scratch that," she added. "Not my dog. My puppy. My very cute, very innocent puppy. What could you possibly have to tell me that you don't want to?"

Goren allowed himself a smile at her attempt to lighten the dark mood enveloping the room. "Well, it's not… I mean, not that I don't… it's just…"

Emmie raised her eyebrows. "Are you familiar with the Band-Aid method?" She could feel the pain meds finally taking over, and nearly overwhelming drowsiness setting in. "And it would be best to get it over with if you don't want to tell me twice, because I think I'm about pass out."

Goren nodded. "Okay. Mark Ford Brady—"

"Ugh, that asshole," Emmie muttered, closing her eyes and rolling her head to face the ceiling. "Sorry, continue," she said, not re-opening her eyes.

Goren could tell she was indeed on the brink of drug-induced sleep. "How sure are you that he's your father?"

Emmie took a deep breath. "I never had a paternity test, but my mother wasn't exactly a whore. And she did ask him for financial support, I can't imagine she wouldn't have done that unless she was sure."

Bobby nodded. "Brady, he. . . He had a lot of victims."

Emmie's turn to nod, slightly. "I know. I read the file, remember?"

"So you know how he kept track of them all."

"Yeah, with the photo albums."

"Right." Bobby took deep breath, looked at the floor, then looked back at Emmie. "We found a photo of your mother in one of the albums."

Emmie nodded, not fazed. "I figured," she said. Her eyebrows crinkled and she opened her eyes to look at Goren. "Where are you going with this?"

"Between his last appeal and his execution, we were working a case involving him," Bobby explained. "During the course of that investigation, as you know, we found the photo albums. In one of the older albums. . .was a photo of my. . .my mother."

Emmie stared at Bobby with her mouth slightly agape. "Um. . ." What was she supposed to say to that? "I'm. . .sorry," she settled for.

He didn't think she was getting it. "Just before she died. . .I-I asked her about it." He was paying more attention to his shoes than to Emmie, but was managing an occasion glance at her. "She didn't give me a straight answer, but there's a strong possibility that. . ."

Realization dawned. "Well how do. . ." She gasped. "You're saying. . ." Bobby looked up and nodded. "But then that means. . ." Bobby nodded again. "I'm sorry," Emmie said. "It would be nice if I finished a sentence."

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in getting a DNA test," Bobby said. "At the very least it could answer questions for both of us."

"What if it says we have the same father?"

Bobby shook his head slightly. "Then. . .I have a sister."

Emmie smiled a small smile, and turned her face back to the ceiling. "Cool," she whispered, before the drugs overpowered her tired mind and she drifted off to sleep.

AN: Yeah, so... I think the next chapter's the last one. I'm trying to wrap up and explain everything. What'd you think of Chapter 11? Loved it? Hated it? Let me know!