A/N 1: Someone said (and Wikipedia and IMDb agree) that Annabella Sciorra played an un-named lawyer on the CI episode "Self-Made". Is that true?

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: AVATAR

Las Vegas
9:30PM Monday evening

The conference at the Mandalay was determinedly limping along, despite the pall cast by a murder, love triangle and dramatic arrest, and despite the ongoing presence of several burly uniforms that offered an ironic contrast to the theme of the event.

Standing in the lobby of the hotel, Bobby felt inexorably bleak. He'd been running on adrenalin since leaving Ross's office. The anxiety of the plane ride had given way to the thrill of the hunt when he was weaving a net around Dreyfeus, but now he was coming down, and reality was setting in. He didn't want to be here, surrounded by blue in an inhospitable hotel, looking for Lieutenant Becker. He wanted to be with Eames.

He could almost physically feel the weight of everything that had gone on here bearing down on him. Not only the murder, Eames's ignominious withdrawal, her poor treatment by the authorities… her affair with Becker. Her submission, his betrayal with Carruthers, her discovery. How it must have felt to share a room with Carruthers, knowing what she knew? And whose idea was that?

Bobby vacillated between being furious at Becker for capturing Eames's interest, and furious at him for rejecting her. And on the topic, what was Becker's angle? Bobby paced around the hallway outside the conference rooms, trying to wrangle his mind into formulating a gameplan for his interview with the man that didn't involve popping him on the nose… but his brain was mush, like wet cotton. He couldn't think. It didn't help that Becker was waiting for him, somewhere within. Earlier on, after Bobby had broached the topic outside the bar, Dreyfeus had phoned the Lieutenant straight away and arranged a meeting, not giving Bobby a chance to ask her not to.

Bobby thought about Nina Carruthers. Small and dark, the crime scene tech working out of a State detachment in Lake Tahoe had a quiet demeanour and regular features. The selection of photos of Carruthers that had been taken during her life did not present an image of charm or allure. Bobby's first thought of her had been, how could she have replaced Eames? It was a crass observation, not worthy of him, but he couldn't help it. It gnawed at him… did Becker still yearn for Eames? Had his rebuff made her feel inadequate? Did he move on so quickly on purpose to hurt her?

o.o.o.o.o

Bobby stood at the double set of double doors that separated the convention rooms from the rest of the hotel. He was an object of interest from most of those within; his appearance met with looks of derision, apprehension, and aversion… whether from recognition of him as an official in the investigation, as Eames's partner, or from the rumours that seemed to have followed them both, he didn't know.

The lone conference info table attendant surveyed him owlishly. "If you're wondering if it's you who's sucking all the fun out of the room, the answer is yes. If you're wondering if it's fair, the answer's no." Her dry humour made him smile, a little. He shuffled over to her table, plopped his binder on it and sat down.

"I feel like I'm, uh, the punchline of a joke I don't understand," he said with a self-effacing grin. A friendly face was a nice surprise in this place.

She looked at him impassively and 'hmmm'd, before looking down at the book she was reading. Maybe friendly face wasn't exactly the right description. His leg began to jiggle, and he was making to get up again, when she looked over at him, contempt in her shrewd grey eyes. "If you 're looking for Phillip Becker, he's waiting for you in Conference Room D." She gestured down the hall with a nod of her head.

Bobby stood up, feeling even more self-conscious. He couldn't figure out if her attitude was for him or for Becker? Becker was a known quantity, good looking and well-liked. But who knew? He decided to test her, a little. "Thanks, yeah, I am. I'm Robert Goren by the way. Detective. NYPD." He held out his hand, which she took. Her hand was slender and pale, just like the rest of her.

"Hi, I'm Patsy Isle. Victims Services. I'm from Sacramento." Her response was friendly enough. Maybe the contempt was for Becker. Or maybe Patsy Isle just blew hot and cold. Law Enforcement didn't necessarily respond any better to investigators than the general public. "Good luck," she said to his retreating back.

o.o.o.o.o

"Do you want Detective Eames to be convicted of murder?"

The interview with Lieutenant Becker wasn't going well. It was clear that Bobby had made a mistake letting Dreyfeus warn Becker that he was coming, but that wasn't the only problem.

When Bobby entered the conference room – which was still set up from an earlier lecture – Becker had been leaning on the podium, on the stage at the far end of the room. A position of power. He must have heard Bobby come through the door, but he kept his head bent, attention on the papers he was fiddling with.

Bobby stood for a second, silent and unmoving. Partly to try to reclaim control of the room, but mostly just to compose himself. Even without seeing his face, the resemblance was clear. Long, rangy limbs, rakish dark blonde hair, Irish complexion.

When Becker looked up, Bobby's heart fell. Behind the tight, disapproving expression was a good, kind face. A reasonable, and easygoing, and normal face. Body a tiny bit softer, skin a bit puffy and crepey.

Like Joe's might have been, if he'd lived.

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A/N 2: I published Chapter 1 on March 25, 2010. I am HOPING to finish it before March 25, 2011. BUT – the story is more important than the process, so I won't rush. And BTW, I'm now at the end of the chapters I feel good enough about to post… there's lots more to come, it just hasn't been written yet. :D

Please review! Every time you review, the picture in my attic gets older.

WORDS: 1066 UPLOADED Wednesday, March 23, 2011