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Eames woke up very slowly. She felt disconnected and struggled to recall what had happened. She felt like she was floating, but she didn't feel wet. Struggling to sit up, she found herself bound by the wrists to a point above her head. As she became more aware, she realized she was on a bed. In addition to her wrists, she found herself bound at the ankles, which restricted her ability to move.

What the hell...?

She had no idea where she was or how she got there. Looking around, she tried to penetrate the darkness, but it was complete. As the fog rolled away from her brain, memories began drifting back...dinner with Logan...watching her partner with Connie Helprin...the doctor's seductive attitude...seeing him leave with her...following them to the park... "Bobby?" she whispered, remembering that Helprin drugged him and he'd collapsed fighting against her gorillas.

There was no answer and she continued to struggle against her bonds. She had to get out of there and find her partner. They had to get away from Helprin. ...suffer the same fate... She shuddered to think what that could mean and continued to struggle against the restraining bonds.

Helprin had warned her to leave, but she was not willing to go without Goren. And he had gone down defending her. Locked in the grip of whatever drugs Helprin had slipped to him, he was still able to fight a good fight...for her. The thought simultaneously choked her up and annoyed her. But then again, Goren had a tendency to affect her that way.

She struggled some more, until the burning pain in her wrists made her stop for awhile. It did not seem likely she was going to be able to get out of her bonds, but she was not about to give up trying. She had to get free and find Goren. Once they were out of this mess, then she would worry about trying to knock some sense into him. Mike Logan's comment came back to her. Dating a suspect...that's a new approach.

She swallowed a laugh. Was she losing it? The darkness was oppressive, engulfing her like a pillow, smothering her. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her surroundings, listening for the smallest sound that might give her a clue of anything. But like the darkness, the silence also was complete. She tried to distract herself by focusing on Connie Helprin. What possible motive could she have for kidnapping and holding her and Goren? Were they closer to discovery than she was comfortable with? Could she possibly be responsible for the murders of Torrington and Cooper? If Goren had any inkling of that, she was going to seriously hurt him for putting himself out on a limb like that. When you have a maneater cornered and in a desperate rage, you don't continue poking at it with sticks until it eats you. Dammit, Bobby...

Teetering on the brink of despair, she caught her breath, thinking she heard something. Straining in the darkness to see and to hear, she tried to penetrate the murkiness, to no avail. Then she heard it again. Staggered and irregular, but unmistakable, it was the sound of someone struggling to breathe. She willed the breathing to become regular, and when a quiet groan accompanied the struggle, she knew who was in the room with her. He'd gotten his poking stick knocked away, and she wondered what he was going to do about it. Straining against her bonds to turn in the direction of the sounds, she quietly called, "Bobby?"

He did not answer.

Logan was pacing the sidewalk impatiently, waiting for his partner to arrive. The few inquiries he had made turned up nothing. He had found Goren's car half a block north of the restaurant--the guy always seemed to have better luck with parking than he did, and a quick call to find out what Helprin drove led him to find her car a block and a half to the west.

"All right, Logan. What's up? And this better be good because I had to leave my husband home alone with a sick, cranky kid."

Logan spun around, not expecting her to come up behind him. He was frowning and his face was dark with concern. "They're gone, Falacci."

She continued to stare at him. "Gone? Who's gone?"

"Goren and Eames."

Her face became stormy. "You called me from home because they took off together? Maybe they finally listened to the rumors..."

"Do you think I'd call you out because they're shacking up? Give me some credit, will you? I was with Eames, shadowing Goren, and when I got back to the table after taking your call, they were gone."

"Did you try calling them?"

"Calling them? What an original idea, Falacci. I should have thought of that. Of course, I called them! Neither of them answered. Neither Goren nor his date finished eating, and both of their cars are still parked nearby."

Falacci raised her eyebrows. "He was on a date, and he left the restaurant with her. I wouldn't answer my phone either. Eames talked you into this because she's jealous?"

Logan was quickly losing patience with his partner. "No, Falacci. Eames is not the jealous type."

"So she was on a date with you and you ran her off? Good job, Cyrano. You called me away from my family because Goren and Eames have independent private lives. Thanks so much."

Logan grumbled under his breath for a moment, pacing to force himself to settle down. "I wasn't on a date and neither was Goren, Sigmund. Sometimes a banana isn't a banana. He was playing up a suspect, and I think this one caught him offguard. That was why we were shadowing him. Eames was concerned..."

"About his judgment?"

"About his invincibility complex. Both cars are still here..."

"Because they took a cab? Were they drinking?"

"She had wine and he had a scotch, but neither of them had enough to impair them. This reeks to high Heaven, Falacci. I have a really bad feeling about this."

"All right, Logan. Let's check it out. But when we find Goren and his date making out in the park and Eames at home in bed, you're taking my husband and me out to dinner."

"Fine. Whatever. Come on."

As he led his partner away from the restaurant, Logan had a really bad feeling he would not have to make good on that deal.

Breathe in, then out...then nothing...a gasp for air...Concentrating on breathing, Goren worked his way back from the drug-induced darkness. Opening his eyes, he was dismayed to find his surroundings almost as dark and oppressive. He began to slip back toward the murky depths of unconsciousness again, but something grabbed his attention, drawing him back toward consciousness.

He tried to move, swallowing a mild panic when he found himself restrained. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel the room around him spinning and his stomach lurched. He focused on his senses to ground him. Sight was useless, and his surroundings continued to spin as his mind dipped in and out of a fog. It was a dizzying ride, and he was kind of glad he couldn't see anything. The air was musty, like a basement would be, and damp. He ran his tongue over his lips and winced, tasting blood. He still had to work to breathe, and he turned his attention to listening. He heard the scurrying of tiny rodent feet and the dripping of water somewhere else in the basement. And he heard movement, which put him on edge because he could not identify the source.

He struggled to figure out how he'd ended up where he was. He remembered dinner with Connie Helprin. She'd been...arduous, and that confused and distracted him. She wanted to go for a walk in the park, and after that, everything became muddled. The room began to spin faster as he tried to recall anything that had happened in the park. Where was Connie? Had something happened to her? The tip of his tongue skimmed over the cut in his lip. The captain...wants to see us... In the park...Eames!

He struggled against his restraints again, then fell back on the mattress, dizzy and starting to slip again toward the fog lingering at the edge of his consciousness and threatening to overtake him. He groaned softly and muttered his partner's name.

"Bobby?"

"Eames? Where...where are you?"

She didn't miss the way his tongue tripped over the words, and she wondered again what drugs Helprin had used to subdue him. "I have no idea where I am.. Do you?"

"No. I...I'm sorry, Eames."

He's always sorry, she thought, annoyed. "You can't say that I didn't warn you," she said and wished a second later she would have kept her comment to herself..

He fell silent at her rebuke and stared off into the darkness, willing himself not to get sick. He said nothing more.

His mind was spinning as a hundred questions swirled through it. He had hoped having dinner with Connie would answer some of them, but it only served to generate more. And now...look what he'd done. Not only was he in danger, but he led Eames right into it as well. Sometimes, he was the one who regretted her decision to withdraw that long-ago request for a new partner.

His head was throbbing and he found himself seeking the fog that teased his mind, wanting to slip into its oblivion. He closed his eyes. His mind and his stomach were spinning and lurching in synchrony, and he was still finding that he had to concentrate on breathing to get it right. The fog he sought hung at the edge of his consciousness, neither retreating nor encroaching, and his mind reached for it.

"Bobby?" Eames broke the silence. She hated the cadence of his breathing; it didn't sound right to her. Shallow and irregular, she found herself counting the seconds between each breath he took, and that time was getting longer. "Bobby, please answer me."

"What do you want me to say, Eames?"

"Are you all right?"

Her mind was swamped with images from the park. Over and over, like a movie on rewind, she watched him fight for both their lives. She remembered the unfocused look in his eyes and the disjointed rhythm of his speech. She watched the drugs overtake him as Helprin's thugs took him down. Now she waited for his reply.

"I'm... no, I'm not okay, Eames."

"Are you in pain?"

"No. Please, Eames...I don't want to talk about it. I feel sick, and I just want to lay here. I really am sorry I got you into this. I...I really screwed up this time."

Eames bit her tongue, tempted to agree with him. "Your curiosity is insatiable. You have a need to understand the most twisted minds, and when one comes along that you can't grasp, you go to whatever lengths you have to so you can understand. It's what makes you so good at what you do."

"It's not the first time my curiosity has come back to bite me in the ass... but this time I took you down, too, and that's inexcusable."

She had to admit that he was right, but she wouldn't admit it out loud. He carried enough guilt. She knew what was coming next. He was going to try to convince Helprin to let her go, at the cost of his own life. It wasn't a sacrifice she was willing to let him make, but he was not going to give her a choice. He never did. If he could not think of a way to get them both out of this, he would find some way to get her out.

His breathing evened out a little and became more difficult to hear. "Bobby?"

He didn't answer, and she felt a panic rise in her. She would feel better if she could see him. She called out to him, a little louder, more urgently. She heard him move, though his mobility was restricted. "What is it, Eames?" he asked, his voice groggy.

"S-stay with me, please."

"Where am I going to go?"

"Sometimes...you turn so far inside your head I'm not sure I'll ever reach you."

He was quiet as he considered her words. The fog still beckoned to him, but her desperation was stronger. "I'll never go that far, Eames. I won't leave you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes. That's a promise."

The fog now lingered very close, and he let it come.

Logan had no idea where to start. He paced the sidewalk, thoughts racing. "Come on, Falacci. Let's head down the street. Maybe someone saw them."

"No one in the restaurant saw them leave?"

"I'm sure a number of people saw them, but no one noticed them. About the only thing I am sure about right now is that they did leave the restaurant."

Falacci sighed. "I think we're chasing our tails here, Logan. Eames is probably home in bed by now, and Goren's showing his lady friend a good time. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, if that was what went down. But it's not. I'm sure of it."

Falacci was about to tell him he was being ridiculous, but the look in his eyes stopped her. He was genuinely worried, and he would not be satisfied until he found them. If he was anything, Logan was loyal to his friends. "All right, Mike. Let's check out their cars and see what turns up there. We can canvass the area and see if anyone noticed them."

He looked relieved. "Thanks, Falacci."

Eames was worried. Goren was not responding to her, and his breathing had become so shallow she couldn't hear it. She wrestled with her bonds, to no avail, and tried to keep the rising panic she felt at bay. "Dammit, Bobby!"

Finally, he answered. "What'd I do now?"

She frowned. Something was definitely wrong. His words came out slurred and she didn't like that. "You didn't answer me."

"I jus' did."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." He was quiet for a moment. "My head hurts, and I feel sick."

"Why are you having such a hard time clearing your head? I'm not."

He moved his arms. "I, uh...I think there's an IV line in my left arm. I don't think she trusts me."

That would explain the continued respiratory problems as well as the nausea and confusion. "I can't say that I blame her," she commented. "You're not a typical cop."

"She's a...psychopath, but she's smart. And she has resources. It won't be easy...to out smart her."

"I have faith in you," she answered.

"I'm afraid your faith is misplaced, Eames."

"Don't say that, Bobby. Maybe Logan will figure out what happened."

"Logan? What's he got to do with this?"

"Um, he and I had dinner at the same restaurant you and Connie did."

Goren was quiet for a minute as his blurry mind processed her revelation. "You...you're dating Logan?"

"Bite your tongue, Goren. He was just being a friend."

"Why were you...uh, Eames, were you...tailing me?"

Even when he wasn't at his best, he could shine. "We were just keeping an eye on you."

Another pause, then he said, "That turned out well."

She couldn't help laughing at that. But the seriousness of their dilemma came back quickly. "I'm not sorry," she confessed. "At least I know where you are."

"That's not reassuring, Eames. You should have left well enough alone."

"Who was it that had to tempt fate by dating our primary suspect for two murders?" she snapped back. "Just how far did that get you, Goren?"

He fell silent after that and she could not coax any further conversation from him. An occasional shifting of position or a quiet grunt reassured her that he was at least alive, and she had to be content with that for the moment.

Logan and Falacci got a myriad assortment of answers from the people they canvassed about Goren and Eames' disappearance. One man who called a park bench home told them they'd been abducted by space aliens, and a junkie told them they'd been eaten by mutant tigers and would be reincarnated as pigeons.

Falacci dragged Logan away from each man before she started laughing. "This isn't a joking matter, Falacci," Logan insisted. "I have a feeling they are in real trouble. We have to find them."

"All right, Logan. Do you want to tackle the maneating mutant tigers or the space aliens?"

"Let's just keep asking."

It amazed Logan how little people noticed in the city. Complacency won high marks on the city streets. Finally, someone recognized Goren's description and told them he saw the big guy walking toward the park with his girl, a classy chick with long hair. It looked to him like the guy'd had quite enough to drink, too. That comment disturbed Logan. He'd been out with Goren several times, and he knew how much the guy could put away before he showed any effects. He was nowhere even close to his limit with what he'd had to drink in the restaurant.

As they headed toward the park, they passed the spot where Helprin's car had been parked. Logan stopped and studied the canary yellow Porshe that occupied the space Helprin's Mercedes had not long ago. "Wait here, Falacci."

Logan trotted to the end of the block and turned the corner. She waited for him to return. "Helprin's car was parked right there, and now it's gone, but Goren's car is still around the corner."

"So he went home with her? Or maybe she took him home? No shock there. You said he was drinking."

Logan shook his head slowly. "No. I don't think he went with her. Not willingly. And his binder's on the front passenger seat."

"And? Does that mean something?"

"That binder's his security blanket. He never goes anywhere without it. It's got his casenotes, crime scene reports and photos...he wouldn't have left it behind. And Eames certainly didn't pop up and invite herself along. Where did he go?"

"See those yellow things crawling the streets? They're called cabs. Why are you so certain something bad happened to them?"

"I've been a cop for over twenty years, Falacci. You don't do the job for that long without developing some kind of sixth sense about it. When the radar goes off, you learn to listen to it."

"And your radar has never been wrong?"

"I'm not wrong. Come on."

They continued toward the park, Logan worried and Falacci wanting to just go home and tuck her kids in. Talking out loud as they entered the park, Logan said, "She was turning up the heat on him, flirting up a storm and kicking it up a notch."

"Kicking it up how far?"

"If it had been me, I'd have been tempted to find a bathroom someplace and let her fulfill her promise."

"You're a pig, Logan."

"I'm a guy, sweetheart, and we can only take so much teasing before we need a woman to put up or shut up."

"Oh, really? And if she chooses to shut up?"

He grinned at her. "Then we find a woman who'll follow through with it."

Falacci rolled her eyes as they entered the park. There were not too many people in the park, and they talked briefly to each person they encountered. Logan watched a middle-aged couple with a big German Shepherd play with the dog. He strolled up to them. "Excuse me? I'm looking for a couple of friends and I was wondering if you've seen them. The guy's a big one, tall and broad, graying dark hair. The woman's small, blond. They might have been with another woman, a tall brunette."

The man nodded. "I remember. The big fella and the brunette went down that way. He was drunk and she was talkin' real sweet to him. The little blond wasn't too far behind. The women kind of got into an argument, so we took the dog and moved on. He goes nuts when people fight. Can't stand it. So we took him to the other side of the park."

"That's all you saw?"

"Sorry we can't help you more. That's all we saw."

"Thanks."

As they headed in the direction the man indicated, Logan called Goren's phone again, but it went directly to voicemail. "Either his phone's dead or off," he grumbled, dialing Eames' number.

He was just noticing the disturbances in the gravel and the grass that indicated a fight might have taken place there when her phone began to ring. He met Falacci's surprised look when the bushes beside the path erupted with the singsong of a cell phone's ring. He swore. "I think I'll take the space aliens," he muttered.