There was nothing left to do with the Brady case. The man was going to die on schedule, which was a huge relief to Eames. Slimy bastard, she thought bitterly. He had caused her partner more than enough grief over the past few weeks. Ever since Bobby returned from his solo visit to the prison, she had second guessed her decision to trust him and let him go alone. He had been sullen and withdrawn, even more than usual. She got the feeling something had happened, but all of her attempts to talk with him had been met with silence, dismissal or avoidance. He wasn't trying to be difficult; it was something that came naturally to him. The same man who would use any aspect of his rocky life to connect with a suspect on the way to a confession would clam up tight with those closest to him. Years ago, she had learned more about him from his 'tit for tat' game with Nicole Wallace than she'd learned directly from him. Six years as his partner, and he still closed himself off from her.

After her kidnapping, when she was released from the hospital, he had taken her home. She did her best to hide her apprehension at being left there alone, but it was impossible to hide from Bobby Goren. The man could read her like a open book which was simultaneously frustrating and comforting. And he had stayed with her that night, and for several nights afterward. Once she was asleep, he'd gone to sleep on the couch, though he could have used the spare bedroom...or her bedroom...but he kept as far from that degree of intimacy with her as he could get.

He had taken her to every therapy session and waited outside for her. He had listened to her whenever she felt the need to talk, a need he himself seemed not to have. Eames was a smart woman. Several times she succeeded in easing him into a conversation that showed every sign of leading someplace, but just before they got where she wanted them to be, he would change the subject. She alternated between wanting to smack the crap out of him and wanting to draw him close and never let him go. Her biggest problem was that she had no idea what he wanted.

As far as Eames knew, Brady was still scheduled to die the next day, at midnight. She had no intention of being there, and she doubted that her partner did either. There was no reason for him to go, and the fact that Brady wanted him there was added incentive for him not to go. She could not explain Brady's intense interest in Goren, and it made her uncomfortable. She was grateful that it was almost over.

Ross came looking for them just before six, but Goren had already gone. The captain told her that Brady's final attempt at delaying his execution had run out. It was done. She breathed a silent sigh of relief and Ross told her, "Let your partner know that."

"I will, sir."

"Uh, how is his mother?"

"Not good. I don't think she is going to be around much longer."

"Keep me informed, will you, please?"

She nodded and watched the man walk off. Ross had cut Goren a great deal of slack over the past year. He had skittered at the edge of control often, and even she had trouble reeling him in. She understood Ross' position. He had to establish himself as the man in command, and Goren in particular had difficulty with authority. But Deakins had learned how to handle him and so, in time, would Ross, she was certain.

Early the next morning, she stepped into a hot shower. She had talked with Bobby late the night before and he'd sounded so...tired. She knew the end was near for his mother and she had offered to sit with him at Carmel Ridge, but he had told her no. As was his tendency when he was hurting, he had withdrawn into himself and he wasn't going to let anyone in. Eames knew him. She knew when to push and when to retreat. Remembering what had transpired in November, she knew that right now, it was time to retreat. The time would come to push, and she was determined not to be shy about it this time. When the circumstance presented itself, she had every intention of pushing, hard. One way or another, she was going to convince her stubborn partner that he was not alone in the world.

The phone rang as she stepped from the shower and she ran into the bedroom to grab it. "Eames."

"It's me."

Her heart dropped and the towel fell from her hand. "Bobby? No..."

"Yes. Sh-she died, about an hour ago. I, uh, I have to handle things here...so...I won't be in today..."

"Do you want me to come out there?"

"N-no. That's not necessary."

"Call me, if you need me. Please."

"Sure. Thank you, Eames."

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

Silence. Then a dial tone. She hung up the phone and sat on the bed. He wasn't going to call and she knew it. He was going to handle everything on his own, just as he always did. But she knew that showing up unannounced and uninvited would only serve to drive him further away. Right now, whether she liked it or not, he needed space, time to grieve and come to terms with his loss on his own. Only then would he be able to accept anything from her, even sympathy and support.

Sympathy...no...not sympathy. The last thing in the world he wanted was sympathy, which he equated with pity. That was why he had not told her in the first place when his mother was diagnosed with lymphoma. He had not wanted her pity. It was why he withdrew from the world and suffered in silence. Bobby met the world on his terms, and that did not involve sharing his burden with anyone. She wasn't certain how she was going to get him to let her in, but she had to do something. With his mother gone, and his brother's support unreliable at best, he had no one...no one but her. Now she only had to convince him of that.

Still lost in thought, she dressed and drove into Manhattan. The first thing she did when she got to the squad room was talk to the captain. "Goren won't be in today, Captain. His mother passed away this morning."

Ross gave a heavy sigh. "You knew it was coming," he said gently.

She nodded. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Did you know her?"

"I met her once."

"Tell Goren I'm sorry for his loss."

"I will, captain."

The day passed in a fog. Her thoughts were with her partner and they never strayed far. She finished up the paperwork on the Brady case and sat in a conference room alone, leafing through the photographs of Brady's subjects, and his victims. Finally, she set the picture of the woman he called "Bambi" on the table in front of her. There was something about this one in particular that had struck a chord with her partner. She couldn't get away from it. What was so different about this well-worn photo? Someday, she would have to ask him.

Sliding the photo into its album, she set it aside and stared at the table in silent grief for the passing of a woman she barely knew. And it dawned on her that Frances Goren had passed onto her a sacred trust. She had given into her hands the only thing she had left that was still worth anything to her: her youngest son's heart. Now she just had to figure out what to do with it to keep her word.