A/N: Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! I enjoy reading what you all have to say and what you think. I get a lot of ideas from what I'm given in reviews. So please keep them coming.

Like I said, this is an alternative timeline now, so I'm granted liberties. I know it's too early in the year 2005 to bring this character in, but I don't care.

Enjoy!

Major Case Squad

Deakins stared down at the files on his desk and felt a tremor radiate through his head. There were three files: one was on the Caleb Cunningham case, including his death. One was on Goren's disappearance, and the other was on a new hire. More specifically, an outside hire to take over the case. The brass didn't want anyone who could be biased to be put on the investigation. That went both ways, in favor of Goren's guilt or in favor of his innocence.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the file and flipped it open. He reread the information, went over past history, qualifications, and saw nothing wrong with the choice in hire. The ringing of the phone broke through the radiating in his head; reaching over, he answered, "Deakins."

"Hey, Jim, it's Don."

Seating back in his chair, he smiled into the phone. "Don, what can I do for you?"

"I know your guys are taking over this investigation, and I was hoping for a favor."

"I wish I could give you one, but the brass was very clear. They don't want any influences. Goren's with your department, he has a history with your detectives, and his friendship with Detective Tutuola goes back to his days working Narcotics."

"They don't trust in their own detectives to be unbiased and professional?" Cragen exclaimed in astonishment.

Deakins rubbed at his head, feeling his own anger building but it wasn't toward his friend. "Listen, Don, I agree with you. I do, but I can also see why the brass wants to ensure that this investigation is done right. What if McCoy gets the Grand Jury to indict Goren and it goes to trial? The last thing we want is to give McCoy more ammunition. And a conflict of interest between Goren and the people who investigated his case would certainly give McCoy tons of it."

Cragen was silent for a few moments before saying, "Thanks Jim."

Deakins was confused as he asked, "You're thanking me? For what?"

"For letting me know that I'm not the only one thinking just that. That's what I tried to tell Fin and Munch this morning when I took them off the case. So…any word on who's taking it up? I know it's going to be one of your guys."

"Yes, it is, but it's a new hire. Someone the brass has been looking at for a few years now. She's former FBI, no-nonsense, and unbiased because she's never met Goren and has no history with him whatsoever."

"Have you met her yet?"

"Not yet, but she's here on the ninth floor having a meeting with the brass."

"Okay," Cragen said, sounding defeated and distraught now that there was nothing left to argue over. "You received the file I sent over?"

"It's here, I was just looking at it," Deakins told him as he looked to the file concerning Goren's disappearance that the SVU detectives had been working on. "Once she gets here, I'll turn her loose on it."

"Just her? The brass isn't going to bring in another body to partner her up with?"

Deakins smirked as he told him, "I'm not a man entirely out of leverage. I put someone on the table to be partnered with Barek from inside the department."

"Oh, yeah, who?"

"Me."

Cragen was silent again, this time for an entirely different reason. "You? You're the Captain of Major Case."

"And that's exactly why they have to trust me to run a fair investigation. If they can't even trust the Captain to be professional, than who? I'm not saying I'm going to be running around the city, but I am going to get my hands dirty on this one. I want to know the truth of what happened and I want no stone unturned and no lead not followed. I'm going to go wherever this case takes us, no matter if it's to Goren's guilt, I'm going to find out what happened to my detective and why."

"Well, my friend," Cragen said after a moments pause, "good luck and God speed."

"Yeah, thanks. I think we're going to need all the help we can get. I'll talk to you later." Deakins hung up the phone as he leaned forward on his desk.

Looking out into the squad room, he saw a woman walking toward his office. She was full of purpose and determination. The former FBI profiler turned New York City police detective Carolyn Barek, despite being able to see him through the glass door, stopped and knocked before waiting for him to tell her to enter.

Deakins hoped the brass knew what they were doing, and he had to trust them. Even if he didn't like it, he had to trust their decision. For Bobby's sake. "Come in," he called out as he went to stand to greet the new addition to the Major Case Squad.

After a brief discussion talking to Barek about the case and what they were after, the truth no matter where it lead, they were on there way down to the M.E's office. The autopsy had been moved to afternoon since Rodgers had been called out to a meeting. It was nearly four in the afternoon now, having given Rodger plenty of time to conduct the autopsy and get results back. Sure enough, while he was rounding the ground level landing, he received a text that it was completed.

Barek didn't seem to have a problem with him partnering up with her for the case; she seemed to get the importance of this case and the limited time they had in completing it to the best of their abilities. He held the door open for her to go ahead of him into the office.

Rodgers was waiting for them and the moment he stepped into the room, she was handing him a printout. "He was poisoned."

Taking the report, he read it over before handing it to Barek. "Potassium Chloride; his heart was stopped."

"The injection point is under his tongue," Rodgers explained as she walked over to the body.

Deakins looked down at the seventeen year old for the first time. He saw the facial features, the dark brown eyes that blankly stared up at the ceiling and couldn't help but noticed the similarities with his detective. They were subtle, but they were there.

Rodgers opened the mouth and used a tool that looked like a pair of pillars to pull the tongue back. There was a square bruising on the underside of the tongue where a needle had been placed to inject the deadly chemical combination into the young man's body.

"He didn't die from blood loss?" Barek asked as she rounded the body to get a better look at the stitched up gunshot wound.

Deakins eyed the wound that Barek was referring to as he listened to Rodgers.

"Definietly not. There wasn't enough blood loss to have caused any life-threatening injury or death."

"And the trauma to his face?"

"Not made by a fist," Rodgers said that as she looked straight at him instead of to Barek who had asked that question. "The facial damage was made by an object." She picked up a stack of photos and handed them to him.

Deakins took them and at seeing the fractures before and after the autopsy, he saw what she had seen. The blood settling, the cleanup of blood from the face, and the result were the obvious circular patterns. "A hammer?"

"That would be my guess," Rodgers said. "Whoever did this wanted us to think that he was beaten within an inch of his life and the blood loss from the ripped stitches resulted in his death."

"But instead it was a needle to his tongue," Barek said as she looked over the photos he had handed to her. "It still doesn't clear your detective," she told him as she pocketed the photos, "but it raises a lot of questions."

"Not for me," Deakins said. "It points to the one other person, the one who we are certain actuality committed this murder. A serial killer that Goren's been after for over three years now: Nicole Wallace."

NYC Downtown Hospital

Downtown Manhattan

Alex had taken off the moment she handed Deakins the file she had on the Caleb Cunningham case. Not being able to work it had infuriated her. Logan had tried to calm her down but he had been unsuccessful. She couldn't calm down. Granted, she understood the why's. She understood the impact it would have if it went to trial. How the jury would see her as not an unbiased cop but as Bobby's girlfriend. But it would also be a conflict with Internal Affairs. They would never accept a case being investigated by the cop's girlfriend. It would cause to many problems and questions. The best thing to do was to take her off the case.

Still, it pissed her off. She felt helpless. Bobby was still out there, with no memory, and there wasn't anything she could do to help him or protect him. All she could do was wait until he got back in touch with her. She had tried calling the number back, but he didn't answer. A part of her was afraid that he refused to answer because he didn't trust her, and another part of her was afraid because he was injured somewhere. If he'd been picked up by the police, she would have known. She was still the detective that would be contacted if he was found. At least she still had that.

Getting off the elevator, she made her way down a long hallway with two cups of coffee and a card she'd picked up at the gift shop. There was a uniform standing outside the door as she approached. Luckily she had decided to clip her badge on her coat before entering the hospital. It kept a lot of people from confronting her as she made her way through the floors.

"Is Detective Benson still here?" she asked as she stopped outside the closed door.

"She's around," the cop told her. His name was Morgan.

Gesturing toward the door, she asked, "Is the family?"

"Only the wife. The kids left a few hours ago."

She didn't want to go in with Kathy in there. Deciding to give the couple their privacy she went in search of Liv. It didn't take long to find her. She was down the hall in a waiting room, and she was talking on the phone.

The moment she saw her, she ended the call and came over to take a cup of coffee from her. "You got here quick."

"It was a short drive. One P.P. is right up the street."

Liv took a sip of the coffee then asked her, "Have you heard?"

"That the brass is taking everyone off the case? Yeah, I was told."

"Sorry. I just got off the phone with Munch, they were stripped of the case as well because of Fin's friendship with Bobby and the fact that he's still a detective with us."

"Any word on who's taking it over?"

Liv shook her head, but said, "It's someone from Major Case, that's all we know."

Alex went to sit down in the chair and realized she still held the card. Handing it to Liv, she told her, "This is for Elliot. How is he?"

"Better. He's awake and alert, but there's swelling from not only the injury but the surgery. The doctors want to monitor him for a few more days, make sure he doesn't produce a blood clot or that the swelling doesn't get worse. Right now, it's pressing on his spinal nerves, causing him not to have any sensation in his neck."

"They're afraid of paralysis?"

Liv gave a nod as she closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. "The dagger had sliced through a lot of nerves and tissue and arteries. It did a lot of damage, Alex. The surgery increased the risk of because of the sensitive nerves they had to try and put back together. I don't understand it all, I'm not a doctor, but I do know that they're concerned of weakness or permanent loss of feeling in his neck. And his voice…It was very close to the voice box and nerves or whatever that controls the voice. He can barely speak right now, and his voice is weaker than it was before. There're many things the doctors are still concerned about," she finally finished with a deep sigh before taking another sip of the coffee.

Alex rested her hand on her friend's shoulder; giving it a squeeze, she told her, "He'll get through this. He's strong and if it comes down to physical therapy, you know he'll be fighting as hard as he can to get back to normal."

Elliot had become a friend to her and a good friend, almost a best friend, to Bobby. It had pained her to have seen Elliot hanging on for dear life, but it nearly broke her heart to have witnessed Bobby's struggle. He had blamed himself for Elliot's injury, and then when he found out that he could have helped to save his life by giving blood but couldn't because of the restrictions on blood donors, the guilt had nearly done him in.

Now, Bobby is out there with no memory of his friend who was still clinging to life. Elliot was better, but he wasn't in the clear. A blood clot could form or the nerves could not heal right and he could have no strength in his neck for the rest of his life, thus ending his career as a cop. At this point all they could do was hope for the best, and that wasn't just for Elliot, but for Bobby too.

"So," Liv said after a moment of regaining her strength. "What's this I hear about Bobby? I heard you talked to him…How is he?"

Alex smiled a little at Liv's concern. Bobby and Liv had started off on the wrong foot as far as being friends was concerned. Where Bobby had immediately gotten over his distrust of Elliot to become his friend, he had been slow to befriend Liv. She figured that Bobby didn't see the point, she didn't know, but it took him a long time to warm up to Liv. And still, they weren't close but that didn't stop Liv from asking about him out of worry and friendship to her.

Shaking her head, all she could think of to say was, "He's lost, Liv. I'm so afraid for him right now. He has no idea who he is and what's going on. It's scary to think about and to wonder if he'll ever be found, and I'm not just talking physically. I don't know the extent of the damage done to his psyche. I don't know why he's not remembering, if it's because of a drug or damage to his brain, or if was some sort of mental choice his unconscious made to protect him from everything."

Liv gave her a weird look before smiling slightly, "You've been reading his books haven't you?"

Alex couldn't help but huff out a laugh. "Yes, I have. Ever since I learned of his amnesia, I've been researching it, trying to figure it out. I learned so much about it and the possibilities, but until I talk to Bobby, or until we get test results back from the hospital, it's all speculation."

"He'll remember, Alex," Liv told her. "Give it time, okay. You're not going to lose him."

That was her biggest fear. She was afraid of losing Bobby forever. She was afraid that he wouldn't love her anymore, that he would never remember them, their love, and that he would never come back to her.

Alex swallowed the hardness in her throat as she tried to push the fear away. As she tried to hang onto hope. She felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. Taking it out, she saw it was the number Bobby had called her from before. Getting up, she walked over to a corner to be alone as she answered, "Bobby?"

"I know about the cops sitting on the hotel."

She was taken back by his sudden bluntness and the hint of impatience she heard in his voice. "How?"

He was silent for a moment and she could hear noise in the background. He was in a crowded place. "You'll know soon enough. I, uh…I just wanted to spare you, and the department, the waste of time and effort. I won't be going back."

She went to speak when the dial tone sounded in her ear. Sighing, she hung up before flipping the phone open. She needed to let Deakins know to call off the stakeout at the hotel.

Park Slope Ale House

6th Avenue, Brooklyn

He wanted to call her. The thought kept spinning around his head. He needed to talk to her again; he needed answers. However, each time he thought about it he remembered how she evaded answering anything directly the last time he had spoken to her. He remembered how she avoided certain questions. She didn't want to tell him the truth. That upset him and made him reluctant to call. Then there was the fact that she would only try to convince him to come in.

He wasn't ready to come in yet. He had his reasons, some personal and some out of fear. To say he wasn't afraid would be a lie; he was. He was deeply afraid of being guilty and that was why Eames refused to answer him.

Then this morning at his home, the pictures he saw and the things he heard. It all confused him even more. He didn't understand any of it. He had no starting point, no foundation, and no bearings. Like a ship lost at sea with no navigation, no lighthouse guiding it home, and all around him was the deep, dark raging ocean trying to devour him up.

Rubbing a hand over his head, he stared down at the cell phone on the table as he took a sip of the bottle of beer in his hand. Now that he had no doctors to worry about, he gave in and had a beer with his dinner.

"Done?"

He looked up at the waitress as she started to reach for the plate he'd pushed away. "Yeah, thanks."

"Would you like another?" she asked, gesturing to the beer bottle he was swirling in his hand.

Giving a nod, he smiled back at her smile as she took his plate and headed toward the kitchen.

"My, my, don't you have a wandering eye."

He took a sip of the beer as he looked away from the waitress and to a woman standing on the other side of the table. She was tall, blond, with blue eyes and a pretty smile. What he saw in those eyes were recognition and he felt that they knew each other. Before he could say anything, she pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

Tilting his head, he curiously asked, "You know me?"

"Of course, Bobby," she said with an accent he wasn't quite sure if it was Australian or British. "I know you quite well. I see you've been making progress."

"Uh, progress?"

She smiled at him as she rested her elbow on the table; leaning her face into her hand, she told him, "I've been keeping my eye on you. I followed you to the DMV where you got a brand new driver's license, and then to the bank where you reported your credit card missing and also withdrew a sizable amount of money. Very clever or you. And not once were you arrested, I'm impressed."

He stared over at the woman and this time the curiosity was gone. "Who are you?"

The smile never left her face but it grew, making her appear amused, as she said, "You really don't remember me, do you? You don't remember all our talks, the games we've played?" She stood and slowly approached him as she ran her hand over the table top. Reaching up, she touched his face as she barely cupped his cheek and turned his face up toward hers as she leaned down. "All the fun we've had over the years."

Staring up into her twinkling blue eyes, he felt a spark ignite deep down in his gut. He knew this woman really well, and he wasn't sure if what he felt was a good or a very bad thing. The emotion he felt was strong, powerful, and it was the first time he had that reaction to anyone. He didn't even have that reaction to Eames, and she claimed they were together and in love. So, why was this woman stirring so many things inside of his mind and body, and yet Eames hadn't?

The more the tried to reason it out, the worse his head felt. It was another piece to the growing puzzle that was his life. This woman knew something.

"You feel it, don't you, Bobby? Our connection? I told you once, even though you don't remember, that I will always be with you." She said that mere inches from his face before she dropped her hand from his jaw.

As she sat back down, he had to gather himself as he tried to focus. There was no desire in him to run, to get away from her. Instead, he was drawn to her. He felt he had to stay, to talk to her, to see what she wanted. So, he picked up the beer and finished it off as the waitress returned with another.

"Anything for your friend?"

He glanced at the woman and wondered if that was who she was, a friend.

She picked up the cocktail menu and flipped through the pages before ordering a martini.

"I'll pay for it," he told her once the waitress left. "The least I can do."

"The least you can do…Such a gentleman. Or so it would seem."

He stared over at her as she said that. It resonated within him, like he'd heard that before. Or he could have been imagining things. Maybe he wanted a connection so bad with his former life that he would reach out and grab hold of anything. He was desperate for answers, but how far did that desperate go? How deeply?

He figured he would find out soon enough. Looking out the window, he spotted a man coming out of a coffee shop across the street. The man ran over to an unmarked sedan and got in.

"The police."

Glancing back at the woman, he gave a curt nod. "They're-"

"You shacked up in that hotel last night, or should I say part of the night. Did you sleep well at home or did you stay up all night with your thoughts and despair?"

The longer she talked the more nervous he got. Trying not to let it show, he answered, "I slept okay."

"Tell me, Bobby, did you sleep alone or did you sneak into your room at night and lie with her?"

Narrowing his eyes at her, he felt the anger gnaw at his gut as he figured out how to take that. He caught a hint of bitterness in her voice, it sounded like temptation and malice mixed together. The devil tempting her pry. Or a mistress tempting her lover.

He was in a motel room, with a woman…A woman that was neither Eames or this blond. Eames claimed they loved each other, but how far did his love go? From the way the woman was looking at him, touching him, and the emotions in her voice, he wondered how honorable of a lover and boyfriend he was to Eames. The thought burned something deep within his soul. The thought of being unfaithful pained him deeply.

"I was alone," he finally answered in a thick cool voice. Clearing his throat, he took a sip of the beer and tried to gauge her reaction.

She smiled; it was slight and sinister, and it did something to him that a smile like that should never do to a man.

"What do you want to do now?"

"What'd you mean?"

"I mean, it's your move, love."

His move. His…move. "My move? Okay," he said with a nod as he picked up the cell phone and called the only contact he had programmed into the phone. After a couple of rings, she picked up. Peering over at the woman as he talked, he told Eames, "I know about the cops sitting on the hotel."

He could hear the hesitation in her response and didn't know what to think about it. It was quiet where she was. It didn't sound like the inside of a police department.

"How?"

Taking his eyes off the woman, he looked down at the table. He wanted to tell her because he was there, at his home, but felt confused and conflicted. Trying to figure out who to believe was killing him. He didn't know who was playing him and who was telling him the truth.

But what he did know was that this woman sitting across from him knew something. He didn't know what yet, but he had to find out. He had to play her game; he knew it would lead to all the answers to his questions. She was the key, he was sure of it.

"You'll know soon enough," he told Eames instead. She would go to his home and she would notice the changes. She would know that he found her and that he had been there. "I, uh…I just wanted to spare you, and the department, the waste of time and effort. I won't be going back."

He closed the cell phone as he glanced out the window he was seated next to. It didn't take long-a couple of minutes-before the car that had been sitting across the street from the hotel pulled away from the curb. Watching as the car turned the corner, he leaned back in the chair and picked up the bottle of beer off the table.

After finishing off his second bottle, he waved the waitress over and asked for the check. The moment the waitress was away from the table, he asked, "What's your name?"

Offering him her hand, he gripped her palm as she introduced herself. "I'm Nicole. Nicole Wallace. Do you want me to keep calling you Bobby? You seem to flinch each time I say it."

Dropping her hand, he shifted in his seat as he thought about it. It seemed like whenever anyone called him that nickname, Bobby, that it bothered him. Maybe because it was such a personal name and it meant a deeper connection than just mere acquaintance. He didn't know anyone and yet they seemed to know him very well. That's why he had a problem with it.

Shaking his head, he said, "No…I, uh…I prefer Robert, for now."

"Until we get to know each other better?" she coyly asked. "I like it. Sort of like a game, isn't it, Robert? A game of getting to know one another."

He didn't know what to think of that, or what to say. Instead of saying anything, he reached into his pocket and pulled out some money as the waitress returned with the check.

TBC…