a/n Thank you for the continued reviews. This chapter is a little weird. Eames is kind of out of character towards the end. But, I figured with the nightmares and no sleep that she deserves to be...I would be...And I guess this gives Goren the right to be ooc, as well...Such as taking some liberties in regards to personal space, which will probably continue in the next chapter, too.

Law and Order: Criminal Intent

High Maintenance

Chapter 5

Hell Hath No Fury

Captain Ross closed his office door and looked over the flurry of officers and detectives in the squad room preparing for their respective days. He preferred a quieter start to his mornings, but would not complain. His crew was the best to be had. He walked through the crowd to the conference room, spotting one of his two top detectives.

"Is you partner making a habit of coming to work late?" he asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Uh, no, Sir," Goren answered with a smile. "She's using the, uh, the restroom." He looked up from his binder as Ross took a seat across from him.

"How's she been holding up?"

"She's…She's better," Goren said slowly. Ross nodded and laced his fingers together as he leaned on the table.

"But…" Ross prompted. Goren eyed his captain, not responding. "Look, Detective Goren, I saw the condition she was in yesterday. She looks like…" He held his hand out, not wanting to say the words.

"I know," Goren nodded. "She had a rough time getting through the interviews yesterday. She was…distracted." He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "I don't think she needs to be taken off the case though." Goren motioned to Ross. "If…If that's what you're asking."

"I share your concern," Ross said carefully. "Just gaging state of mind."

"Well, you have my answer."

"What about her time off?"

"I haven't really brought that up, yet. You know Eames doesn't like to be pushed into taking time off. If the moment isn't just right…" Goren smiled. "Hell hath no fury, Captain."

"I have an ex-wife, Detective," Ross nodded. "Believe me, I know."

0-0-0-0

Alex bent her head over the sink, fighting ripples of nausea and dizziness as they took turns slowly assaulting her body. She couldn't escape the latest nightmare. The fuzzy images she remembered leaked into every thought she had, though she still could not put into words what her mind was showing. The panic and anxiety clinging tightly to her were suffocating her sanity.

In the hour since she woke, everything had been a chore. The hot shower she looked forward to every morning was uncomfortable, her skin crawling under the small drops of water. Dressing was anything but routine. In her bra and underwear, and one sock, Alex spent ten minutes searching for the sock's mate. When she found it on the bed next to her pants and shirt, she cried.

And then there were her wrists.

Alex offered a silent thank you for the cold, rainy weather as she looked down at her sleeves, long enough to cover all but the tips of her fingers. Turning on the water, she pulled up the sleeves, cringing at the ugly pink marks around her wrists. She quickly washed and dried her hands and roughly yanked the sleeves back into place.

Alex left the restroom and made her way to the small break area. She frowned, seeing the lack of Skittles in the vending machine, and turned towards to counter housing the coffee maker. Alex poured a cup for her partner and reached for the sugar as she poured her own. As she ripped open the small packets, her thoughts wandered again to her nightmare. She could see someone standing in front of her, but she could not see his face. He had something in his hand…

Reaching up, Alex rubbed her left cheek. She dumped the handful of empty sugar packets in the small garbage can under the counter and snatched the coffee cups. Walking through the squad room and past her desk, she saw Ross in the conference room, speaking with her partner. Though she could hear his voice, she didn't catch his words until she was through the conference room door.

"Believe me, I know."

"Know what?" Alex asked, setting a coffee cup on the table in front of Goren.

"That you two have your hands full with this case," Ross answered. Goren stilled a smile, approving of the captain's quick response. Ross rose from the chair, offering it to Alex as he silently examined her. She accepted with a nod. He stood behind her, eyes conveying his worry to Goren. "Keep me in the loop today." Ross headed for the door.

"Yes, Sir," Goren nodded, knowing Ross was talking about Alex more than the case. "Are you ready to go?" he asked his partner, reaching for his coffee. She nodded. "Okay." Goren lifted the cup, grumbling as the coffee slipped over his lips. He handed the cup across the table and swallowed awkwardly. "This is your cup. There's way too much sugar in here for my tastes."

0-0-0-0

The drive to Hoboken was quiet. Eames spent the time staring out the passenger window; fingers tracing the paths of ran drops as they raced across the glass. Goren tried several times to spark a conversation, but Eames' one-word answers stifled his attempts. Goren slowed the SUV, coming to a stop in front of the Hales' house. He removed the keys from the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt. Eames continued to run her fingers down the window.

"Eames? We're here," he said softly.

"Yeah." As her hand closed over the belt buckle, Goren's hand closed over hers. She flashed him an angry look.

"What's going on?" he asked. She didn't answer with words, simply furthering her glare. "Come on, Eames. You let me drive. Not 'let me' like I asked if I could…Handed me the keys and said, 'Drive, Goren'." Eames dropped her eyes and used her free hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"I didn't get much sleep last night. I didn't think being behind the wheel was a good idea."

"How did you get to work this morning?"

"I drove…I drove." Eames' voice faded as she answered her partner. Goren nodded.

"Are you up for this today?"

"Of course I am." She met his eyes, anger snapping through her words.

"All right." He let go of Eames' hand and slid out of the vehicle. She rolled her eyes as she unbuckled and opened the door. Goren waited patiently for her, umbrella open. "Forensics has finished with the house," he stated as she met his side under the umbrella. "We have permission to roam freely. Thought we could give Connie's room a good old tossin'." Goren lowered and closed the umbrella when they reached the porch. He lifted the crime scene tape and Eames ducked underneath.

"I haven't done one of those in years." Once in the house, Goren walked next to Eames, shielding her view of the blood stain on the carpet. They made their way up the stairs, each taking a side of the hallway as they looked for Connie's room.

"Here." Goren flicked the light switch and stepped into the fairly large bedroom.

"It's pretty sparse," she said slipping past Goren. The bedroom sheltered a full sized bed, a small dresser, a two-drawer filing cabinet and an older, wooden desk. "Let's go through the dresser and the closet before we make a mess with any papers." Goren moved to the other side of the room and opened the closet door a few inches.

"This is going to be easy," he said. He stepped to the side pulling the door fully open. "It's empty." Eames frowned and moved to the dresser. Each drawer she opened revealed the same as the closet.

"Well, let's see what the filing cabinet and the desk have to offer." Eames opened the top drawer of the cabinet, removed a lone file folder and sat on the floor. Goren took a seat at the desk, rifling through a small pile of papers stacked neatly on top. "I've got a budget…Income from odd jobs, rent paid to the Hales…"

"I have the same." He opened the two drawers on the left of the desk. "These are empty." Eames reached over and opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet.

"This one, too." She returned her attention to the papers in her hands. "I have a list of people Connie was helping with yard work. Mrs. Pedersen, Mr. and Mrs. Allan, Ms. Grainer…We spoke to all of these people yesterday." Goren stretched his legs, stood and paced one length of the room.

"There's nothing here." He turned to Eames. "Nothing."

"There's an office across the hall. Maybe we should toss that, too." Goren stepped towards Eames and she accepted his out stretched hand. As he pulled her to her feet, the dizziness took hold of her again. She braced herself with her hands on Goren's shoulders, as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Careful," he whispered. She closed her eyes, letting him keep her upright until she reclaimed her balance. Goren brushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "What is this?" He gently touched her left cheek. "Do you have an ink smudge…" Goren moved his hand to her neck, slightly tilting her head to get a better view of her face.

"Bobby, if you lick your finger and do the 'mom-spit' thing, I'll drop you right here."

"I won't, promise," he said smiling briefly. He trailed his thumb over the spot once more before moving his hand to her arm. "It's a…a bruise. Can't wash those off." Goren watched Eames reach for her cheek and registered the fear that flicked through her eyes. His arm still around her, he felt her body tense and her breathing quicken. "Sit down."

"I don't need to sit," Eames said, pulling herself out of Goren's hold. "I'm fine." She straightened the hem of her shirt. "Let's go across the hall." Goren sighed and followed as Eames left the room. After a few more hours of searching the house, they would be heading back to New York. Goren would wait until then to confront Eames. Her insomnia, her shoulder, now her bruised cheek…Something was going on and this last exchange was the last opportunity Eames had to lie about it.

0-0-0-0

"You don't have sufficient evidence for a search warrant on Connie's phone." Ross dropped the file folder on his desk and turned to face Goren.

"But, Captain, if we could just—"

"No. You have no fingerprints, you have no murder weapon. Conjecture is all you have on Connie's involvement. I can't go to a judge with that." Eames appeared at the door, stopping the argument between the two men.

"I have autopsy results."

"Anything that helps your case?" Ross asked.

"Not really. Cause of death is exsanguination due to severing of the carotid artery. They were given heavy doses of an over the counter sleep aid before their throats were cut. Rodgers says fifteen, twenty minutes tops for bleed out." Eames turned to Goren. "None of the knives we found in the wall are a match to the wounds. Most of the knives were butter knives, older knives from the Hales' kitchen. The one used for the murders was probably more along the lines of a hunting knife."

"Well, I suggest the two of you take another crack at it. Re-interview if you have to. Do you even have a game plan for your interview with Connie tomorrow?" Goren looked to Eames.

"Somewhat."

"Somewhat," Ross repeated. He rounded the desk and took a seat. "I seriously hope tomorrow you can tell me more than 'somewhat'." Goren and Eames left the office.

"We're getting snowballed here," he said as he led her to the conference room. "This isn't any Joe-Blow. I know Connie is involved in this somehow." Eames took a seat, looking at Goren curiously as he closed and locked the door.

"We'll figure this out. Nichols is back from his vacation tomorrow. It might not hurt to have another pair of eyes on this."

"Yeah," Goren sighed. "We can talk to Ross in the morning." He grabbed the other chair, dragging it to Eames' side of the table. He leaned his elbows on the table, resting his temple on folded hands. "What's going on with you?" Eames straightened and pushed her chair back a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. What's wrong?" His voice was quiet and his eyes conveyed a deep concern.

"I told you before, Bobby, I'm fine." She stared him down for a long, awkward moment before he moved to face her straight on.

"You're not fine, Eames." He raised his hand motioning to her. "Where did you get the bruise on your cheek?"

"I don't—"

"And what about your shoulder? How…How many times did you reach for it yesterday?" Eames opened her mouth to answer but Goren interjected. "And your hands…You've been rubbing your wrists today, just like your shoulder." Eames shook her head and stood.

"I don't know what you think is happening here, Bobby, but I'm finished with this conversation." She moved past him. Goren sprung from his chair and in one stride was behind her as she started turning the handle. He pushed a hand against the door, preventing it from opening, and reached around her to re-engage the lock. "Bobby, stop it."

"Turn around and talk to me."

"No." She ducked under Goren's arm and moved to the far end of the table. "There is nothing wrong." Her breathing was ragged now, her anger stronger than Goren had ever seen. "No need to talk to you about anything!" She tried to round the table as he approached her, but Goren anticipated her move. He met her on the opposite side of the table and slipped an arm around her waist as she pivoted to run from him.

"Stop fighting me," he said struggling slightly against her.

"Then let me go!" Eames tried to push his arm off her waist but Goren easily caught both her arms just below the elbow in his free hand. Turning her, he gently, yet quickly, moved her arms behind her back and pinned her carefully against the wall. "Let me go," she whispered.

"No." Goren reached up and slowly pulled the collar of her shirt over her shoulder, revealing a purplish bruise. Eames squirmed against him; his size prevented her from escaping. "Where did you get this bruise, Eames?" She glared at him and twisted her leg. Goren ran his hand down her thigh, pushing her knee to the outside of his leg. "Don't kick me," he warned.

The two turned their heads, hearing a knock at the door. Eames took the opportunity, pushing Goren backwards. She yanked open the door and jogged across the squad room. Ross looked inside, raising his eyebrows as Goren moved to his side.

"What did you do?" Ross asked watching Eames dig through her purse.

"I, uh…asked how she was feeling." Goren looked down. "But that's…that's not all." He could hear the drawers of Eames' desk being violently wrenched opened and, in turn, slammed shut.

"Robert Goren!" Eames yelled from across the room. Ross looked to Goren.

"I took her keys."