She studied herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the dark calf-length skirt she had chosen for the day. The sleeveless dark top was a few shades lighter and comfortable. Sitting on the bed, she pulled on a pair of black boots and gave herself one more perusal in the mirror. She hated funerals, and this one promised to be one of the most difficult she'd ever attended. It would be difficult not because the deceased had departed before her time, but because she had departed before her son was ready to let her go. This funeral was going to drive home the finality of his loss once and for all.

The final day of Frances Goren's wake was uneventful. Frank had not returned. Lewis and Mike Logan both showed up for the third night in a row, offering both support and distraction to Goren. It made Eames smile to watch the three men interact. Lewis and Logan got along well, and together they not only made her partner smile, but they were even able to get him to laugh. Her heart swelled with gratitude.

Eames left her bedroom and hesitated outside the bathroom as Goren's aftershave was carried on the warm, humid air that rolled out into the hallway. She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to sort out her feelings. She made quick work of suppressing them and struggled to keep her voice even. "Everything okay in there, Bobby?"

"Fine. I'll be right out."

"Are you hungry?" She already knew the answer but felt obliged to ask nevertheless.

"No. But I made coffee while you were in the shower."

"Thank you."

She smiled at the comfortable feeling of domesticity that struck her. He had settled in a little more, feeling more at ease being in her house. Some of his guilt had been chased away by her assertion that she felt much more at ease having him there. She knew he assumed it was a fallout from her kidnapping, and some of it was, but most of it was reassurance that he was close and that he was okay. He was letting her take care of him, and that lifted a huge burden from her mind and her heart. If only...no...she refused to dwell on uncertainties. She continued into the kitchen for her coffee.

The trip to Brooklyn was made in silence. She had no idea what to say, and he was preoccupied anyway. He shifted nervously in his seat and she knew he was dreading the day's events. She found herself feeling relieved that Logan and Lewis would both be there, and she wondered at that. Was she thinking perhaps that she couldn't handle him by herself? Or that it would be nice to have a little of the burden shifted from her shoulders? Another thought occurred to her: Frank. He was likely to show up, and that made her more than a little nervous. How would Bobby react to him, under the weight of everything that burdened him? Again, she was glad that Logan and Lewis would be there.

She parked outside the funeral home, glad that Goren had driven his car home last night before he'd come home with her for the third night in a row. She had a feeling that her life was heading toward a level of complexity it hadn't known before. Ever since that night at the Lookout on Long Island her thoughts of him were getting increasingly out of control. As much as she felt herself wanting a deeper relationship with him, she realized that any sort of advance beyond friendship from her at the current time would be likely to spiral him into a meltdown. So she remained within the boundaries she knew he could accept. He would not reject overtures of friendship, she was now certain, so those were the parameters within which she was forced to operate...at least for now.

Eames was surprised that Logan had arrived before them even more than she was surprised that he had come to the funeral home so early rather than meet them at the church at ten. He was determined to be supportive and to be a friend at a time when Goren very much needed him to be one. When she hugged him in greeting, she spoke softly into his ear. "Thank you, Mike."

"Don't mention it. You can buy me dinner sometime."

She laughed and smacked his shoulder. Logan was irrepressible. Turning, her heart went out to her partner, seeing him standing near the casket, looking down on his mother's body. She looked as frail as she had in life, but there was no longer a voice to destroy that impression of frailty. She crossed the room, stepping up beside him. Reaching out, she let her fingertips skim the back of his right hand. As her hand fell away from his, he did something unexpected. His hand came out and grasped hers, holding it firmly. She lightly caressed his thumb with hers, and he let out a heavy breath. "I guess this is it," he whispered.

"I guess so. Please don't forget I'll be right there for you. And so will Mike and Lewis."

"I-I know. I feel like...saying thank you has become...hollow, I've said it to you so often lately."

"Then stop saying it. I know how you feel, and you should know how I feel by now."

He looked at her, genuinely surprised. "I should? Eames...lately...I...I've lost my ability to...to read you."

"Then remember that everything I have done and everything I do, is done out of friendship, because I care about you, very much. You have to know at least that much."

He nodded. An overpowering wave of emotion rendered him incapable of making any response beyond giving her hand an affectionate squeeze which she readily returned. When he finally found his voice again and engaged it, it was very soft. "I-I can never repay you..."

"I would never ask you to," she answered when he trailed off. "Let's just get through this funeral, and we'll go back to my house and recover."

She knew him well, too well sometimes. He just nodded. When she finally stepped away from his side, she took whatever warmth he felt with her and he shuddered involuntarily. It was going to be a very long morning.

As they prepared to leave the funeral home, the door to the room pushed open and Frank Goren stuck his head in. Immediately, Eames looked at her partner. He saw his brother and he approached him. She lingered close by, in case she was needed, and let the brothers interact quietly.

Frank stepped into the room, looking at the floor as his younger brother approached. "Bobby," he said softly once Goren was within earshot. "I am very sorry about the other night. You know I have trouble coping sometimes and I need...help."

"You need help, Frank, but not with coping."

"I know, I know. Face it, Bobby. I'm going to be fifty years old next year. It's too late to teach this old dog any new tricks."

Goren raised his hands. "It's your life, Frank. Just don't come to me expecting me to bail you out of it."

"Yeah, I know better. But I'm here right now, and I'm sober. I'll stay this way until the funeral's over. Then...I'll be out of your life again."

"You know that's not the way I want it."

"I know. But it's the way it has to be."

Frank gave him a sad smile, then stepped away and walked to the casket to say good-bye to their mother. Again Eames touched his hand and squeezed. He looked at her and gave her a brief nod. It was the only response he had in him.

Eames was pleased to see a respectable turn-out at the church. Some of the people there were doctors and nurses who had cared for Frances in the last years of her life. Some were old friends of hers that she had lost contact with but Bobby had not. She was pleased to see that her parents had been able to make it and even more pleased to see Deakins and his wife there. Ross was also there, in spite of the tension that existed between him and his brightest officer. She saw an assortment of Bobby's friends, an odd lot that had never ceased to amaze and amuse her. What touched her most, however, were the other people who had come, not to say good-bye to a woman they did not know, but to offer support for her son, whom they did. A good portion of their squad was there, and other officers Bobby knew from narcotics, from the lab and CSU, even Rodgers was there, which made her smile. In spite of her gruff exterior, the ME had a soft spot for Goren. She was used to cops collapsing in front of her table, not men like Goren who was never intimidated by anything that came into her morgue. Bobby feared the dead far less than he feared emotional intimacy with the living.

She talked briefly with her parents before her father sent her to sit in the front pew and wait for her partner. He and his brother, Mike, Lewis and two of Bobby's other lifelong friends were the pall bearers, and they were outside at the hearse right now.

She sat between Goren and Logan through the familiar ritual of the Mass. Frank was seated on his brother's other side and Eames was glad that he was there, if for no other reason than it was his place to be there. Halfway through the Mass, she was surprised when Goren's hand sought hers, gripping it firmly. She squeezed back and he didn't release her until it was time for the Kiss of Peace and they had to interact with the people surrounding them. After communion, he again grasped her hand and held it until the benediction, when it was time for the men to return the casket to the hearse for the trip to the cemetery, where Frances would be laid to rest within walking distance of her late ex-husband, the father of her two sons.

Following the graveside service, she remained by Goren's side as he said thank you and good-bye to the people who had taken part of their day to attend the funeral of a woman most of them had never known.

Finally, only Goren and Eames, Frank, Logan and Lewis remained. Frank once again apologized for turning up the way he had at the wake. He thanked Eames for stepping in to save both him and his brother from a great deal of embarrassment.

He held his hand out to his brother. "I'll see you around, little brother."

Goren pulled him into a hug. "Take care of yourself, big brother."

"I'm pretty good at that. Don't worry."

They watched him walk away until he was no longer in sight. Lewis clapped a hand on Goren's shoulder. "I gotta go, man. I have a Mustang that's getting picked up this afternoon and I'd better get it done. I still got that T-bird waiting to be worked on, if you're interested."

Goren gave him a hug. "Thanks, Lewis."

"Yeah—call me."

Logan shook his hand. "It was good to meet you, Lewis."

"Same here, Mike. You're welcome to come with Bobby to work on the car, if you want."

"Thanks."

Lewis smiled shyly at Eames. "Bye, Detective Alex."

She smiled back. "Bye, Lewis."

He headed away from the grave site toward his car. Logan looked around at the surrounding cemetery. "These places creep me out. You guys want to go out for a few drinks?"

Eames gave him an amused look. "It's lunchtime, Logan."

"Tonight then?"

He looked at Goren, who shrugged. "I'll call you later, Mike."

"All right. If I don't hear from you by six, I'll give you a ring."

"Okay."

Logan walked off, leaving Goren and Eames alone beside the casket. Eames looked up at her partner. "Are you ready?"

"Um, not quite. Would you...walk with me for a few minutes?"

"Of course. Where are we going?"

"To visit another grave."

He headed away from his mother's gravesite and she fell into step beside him. He hesitated for a moment, then reached his hand toward her, brushing his fingers across the back of her hand. She read his intent and gently grasped his hand. She heard him sigh softly and she smiled to herself. Without even trying she felt as though she was making some headway with him.

When he stopped, she looked at the headstone of the grave he was looking toward. William M. Goren. "Your father?"

He nodded. "You know, they are closer here in this cemetery than they were in life."

She didn't know what to say, so she remained silent. He stood by the grave, also silent, holding onto her hand with a firm grip. She could not even guess at what was going through his head. Finally, he turned away, and she remained beside him, glancing over her shoulder once as they walked toward the car.