A/N: I would like to say thank you to everyone who responded to my request for brainstorming assistance. My warmest thanks go to mitfordgal, Metisse, iluvstabler, Canmar, bammi1, Tate Sourwater, rindy 713, squarey, Lynne z, Carol, and river57. If I forgot anyone, I apologize. Special thanks for the poem go to Canmar. And I want to send a special hello and thank you to my friend deliriousdancer. She knows why.

Robert Goren smoothed his hand over his tie and slipped his tie clip into place. Then he gave himself a critical overview in the mirror. He'd lost some of the weight he'd gained at the end of his mother's life, though not in a healthy manner, and his dark hair was now more gray than brown. His eyes still bore the haunted look they usually did; he knew of no way to chase away his demons. Instead, he kept collecting more.

As he stepped away from the mirror, one of his newest demons slipped into his mind. He remembered the last words he had spoken to his junkie brother: "If I hear that you're on a bridge, ready to jump, I'll listen for the splash."

The ghost of his mother's criticism haunted him for that, and he wondered if it was his own conscience assuming her voice. Very effective, very familiar. He had no idea where to find Frank these days. He'd gone by the motel where he'd last seen him, but he was long gone. He continued to search for his nephew, concerned for his well being but angry that he had used him to escape prison. Donnie still had a debt to pay, however unfair he thought it, and Goren was determined he would serve the rest of his time.

Every time he found something new about his family, it was something bad, he reflected bitterly, recalling the shadow his mother had cast over his paternity by her deathbed revelation that Mark Ford Brady might have been his father. I'm sorry, Bobby. How did one apologize for something like that?

Then Frank brought to his attention a bipolar nephew who was now a fugitive from justice because of him. He decided to stop asking, to stop looking. The things he knew were bad enough. He needed nothing more to drag him further down.

He pulled on his jacket and buttoned it. Every night, he relived the days he spent at Tate's, and every morning, awakening from the nightmare, he found himself grateful, again, for Eames. But now, instead of simply taking her presence for granted, he called her to tell her. She seemed to appreciate hearing from him. It was the only way she knew that he was all right, and she seemed to need to know that he was.

Finally, after two months' suspension, he had been cleared for duty and reinstated. The chief had been hoping the psychological evaluation would render him unfit for duty, but that had not been the case. Instead, it had not only found him fit, but it determined the job necessary for his well being. There was no doubt in the mind of the evaluator that Goren could do his job as well as he ever had.

Grabbing his overcoat, he headed out the door, not looking back into the apartment that had become a new kind of prison to him. Everywhere he turned he found bars of one sort or another keeping him in, and he felt smothered. He was hoping things would turn around for him now that he was returning to work. After all, it was only through the job that he felt his life worthwhile. He locked the door and headed for the stairs. The elevator was too claustrophobic for him today. For the same reason, he opted to drive and not take the subway. He didn't particularly feel like being around too many people...as if they could read his mind and know what a screw-up he was.

A screw-up...A smile forced its way onto his face as he got into his car. In a particularly bitter mood, last week he'd voice his opinion of himself to his partner. She had read him the riot act. "A caring heart and an unquenchable thirst for the truth does not make you a screw-up, Bobby," she'd scolded.

Tell that to the chief, and the world at large, he mused. He'd tried to do right by Kevin Quinn, Joe Dutton and the justice system, and he was branded a whack job. He tried to connect with his nephew, seeking the truth in what the young man thought he saw, and he got suspended for two months, in addition to nearly losing his life What wonders awaited the next application of his integrity? The answer would come much sooner than he anticipated.

The squad room wasn't very busy when he got off the elevator, but it was early. Eames wasn't there yet, but he didn't expect that she would be. She knew his suspension was ending but he had been purposely vague about when he was coming back. He so rarely had the opportunity to surprise her. Placing her coffee on her desk, he set a pastry bag beside it, along with a single rose, and pulled the papers from his inbox to review them.

Fifteen minutes later, a hand came to rest on his shoulder and he looked up into Mike Logan's grinning face. "Welcome back, buddy."

Logan had taken the time and effort to spend time with him during his suspension, and Goren had deeply appreciated his effort. Logan felt he was given a raw deal, and he knew all about getting shafted by the brass. Goren smiled at him. "Thanks, Mike."

Several detectives made the effort to welcome Goren back to the squadroom. Many of them had not agreed with his suspension, even if they had not been surprised by the chief's response to his actions. A few minutes before he expected Eames to arrive, Goren went into a conference room, watching and waiting.

As she rode up in the elevator toward the eleventh floor, Eames realized she was tired. She was tired of playing games with the brass, tired of fighting battle after battle that she should not have to fight. Goren wasn't the whack job everyone seemed to think he was. She should know; no one knew him better than she did.

She was pleased that the psychiatric evaluation he'd undergone concurred with her. It hadn't been a fly-by-night evaluation, either. Conducted over several sessions and very in depth, it wasn't something Moran could dismiss out of hand. According to Ross, he had not been happy with the results, but he wasn't in a position where he could justify putting Goren through repeated evaluations until he got the results he wanted. She was glad that the chief was angry about being forced to return Goren to duty. The man was an arrogant prick, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him that last week when he'd called her into Ross' office for a dressing-down about her partner. Ross had taken the time after Moran left to talk to her, reassuring her by letting her know for certain that he did want Goren as a member of his squad.

Her mood was dark as she got off the elevator and pulled off her coat. Hanging it on the coat rack closest to her desk, she turned away from it and stopped. Coffee, a pastry, a single rose...her eyes scanned the squad room. Logan avoided her gaze and she frowned at him. She sat at her desk and opened the pastry bag, pulling out the cherry cheese danish. It was fresh, with a thick coating of icing, just the way she liked it. Savoring the first bite, she was halfway through it when she caught a whiff of a familiar aftershave a second before his voice whispered past her ear. "Are you ready to get back to work, detective?"

She laughed and turned in her chair, her face bright. "Welcome back, partner."

His eyes held a dull reflection of her joy, and she tried to remember the last time she saw emotion in his eyes that was not clouded by doubt or depression. She touched his arm. "I am glad you're back, Bobby."

He withdrew his arm, but gave her a smile as he walked around to his desk. "I'm glad to be back. Thank you, Eames."

She didn't address his withdrawal. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?"

He looked up from his binder, and there was a glimmer of his old self in his eyes. "I wanted to surprise you," he answered.

She took more comfort from the gleam in his eyes than from anything he said. She smiled before she turned to the work on her desk. The corner of his mouth turned up and he returned his attention to his binder.

Twenty minutes later, Ross arrived, stopping beside Goren's desk on his way by. "It's good to see you back, detective. Your presence was missed."

Goren looked at him for a moment before averting his eyes. "Thank you, sir."

Ross looked at Eames. "Did you tell him?"

"Not yet, captain."

Ross nodded, then proceeded to his office without saying anything more. Eames knew her partner's curiosity would get the better of him, and Ross knew it, too, damn him. Sure enough, the captain had no sooner gone into his office before Goren said, "Tell me what?"

She smiled affectionately. "He wants you to know that he backed you all the way when Moran went off about your supposed instability. When you were cleared for duty, the chief was unhappy, to say the least. Captain Ross stood up for you, told him he wanted you back on the job, back in his squad." She raised a finger. "But he doesn't want any more headaches, Bobby. I told him no promises."

Goren studied her for a moment, then he smiled. "I'll try. That's the best I can do."

She nodded her head toward the other side of the squad room. "Logan's glad you're back. You take some of the pressure off him."

"Anything I can do to make Logan's life easier," he joked, but she saw a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes. She realized he was aware that Logan had supported him during his absence, and that had endeared him to her.

She pulled out a file and passed it over to him. "Let me know what you think," she said, giving him another brief smile.

He held her gaze, then nodded and turned his attention to the file. It kept him occupied for the rest of the morning.

Logan joined them for lunch, reiterating how glad he was to have Goren back. Eames was thrilled to see her partner laugh with Logan. He had not had much reason to laugh lately, but maybe now things would settle in his life and he would be able to relax. She also sensed that they had a chance to work out the problems that had cropped up between them, causing a tension in their relationship that neither of them wanted there. It all began when she had been kidnapped by Jo Gage, something she had tried hard not to blame him for, but did. The thought of it made her sick, but she couldn't always help how she felt. When she had been forced to read her withdrawn request for a new partner in open court, blindsiding him with that painful revelation, he had not made an issue of it. The entire thing went by the wayside and they moved past it. She had been unable to do that in the wake of Declan and Jo Gage. Not even therapy had helped her move on and it sat between them like a coiled viper waiting to strike.

The revelation that he had not seen fit to tell her about his mother's cancer and the major fallout they'd had shortly after she found out had done nothing to help matters and they had drifted further apart, driven by unresolved issues that they chose to ignore rather than deal with. His mother's death seemed to have set them on the right path to reconciliation, but it had not lasted. When he had chosen to reinvestigate Joe's murder without telling her, not only had he reopened raw wounds, he had rubbed salt in them. But once again, his instincts had proven true and his investigation was solid. She slowly began to find her way back to him, and he seemed to stop running away. Then he got himself locked away in Tate's, and she had nearly lost him, permanently. She found that losing him as her partner paled in comparison to the thought of losing him from her life. While he served his suspension, recovering his balance as he searched for his renegade nephew, she made certain she was there for him. Kenny Moran could not forbid her to spend time with her partner. He was her superior on the job, but he did not own her life. Ross had cautioned her to proceed with care. Moran couldn't care less if Logan hung out with Goren, but he said that the maverick detective had done enough damage to Eames' career. Filled with fury, Eames went off on the captain, discharging every resentment she harbored toward the department for betraying and abandoning a man who had given a portion of his soul to the job. Ross let her go, listening carefully to every word and hearing in them a deep concern and abiding love he had feared she'd lost. Spent of her anger, she stood before the captain's desk, jaw jutting defiantly toward him as if daring him to suspend her for believing in Goren. But Ross had given her a rare smile of affection. "I was wondering what it would take," he said quietly.

"Sir?"

"I wondered how far you would let it go before you struck back. Eames, I am not forbidding you from seeing Goren. Just be careful what Moran sees. I can't say for certain what your association with Goren has cost you in terms of your career, but I can see that you are not particularly worried about that. I know you care about your partner. You have been running interference for him since I took over Major Case. But Moran is on the warpath and, unfortunately, you and I are in his crosshairs at the moment. Tell your partner I am fighting for his reinstatement and let's not do anything to tank either of your careers."

Since then, Eames had developed a new respect for Ross. He had accepted the black mark in his jacket with his head held high, as had she, convinced they had done the right thing in rescuing Goren from his incarceration. It infuriated him that Moran seemed to prefer that he and Eames should have left Goren there to die. It had taken every fiber of control he had to keep a lid on the rage he felt at the chief's attitude toward Goren, which had been there since Moran took over as chief and only worsened after the Quinn shooting. Ross did not, however, take out any of his anger on Eames. After his verbal chastisement of her for letting her partner undertake a rogue assignment without his okay and with minimal backup, he had not brought it up again with her. He was good at letting things in the past stay there, and he had mastered the ability to move on without resentment. Eames admired him for that. She also admired his ability to go to bat for Goren, and even to develop a liking for her partner, in spite of his issues...or maybe it was because of them. Ross welcomed a challenge, and she had to admit, Goren had given him plenty of challenge. Between him and Logan, Ross remained on his toes. He hated being caught off-guard, and Goren's escapade at Tate's had done just that. However, he recognized Goren's loyalty and devotion and he understood it, even if he felt it was misplaced. He still stepped up to the plate and stood behind his detective as he defended his actions to the chief. Moran had taken a hard line, which Ross disagreed with, but it was the chief's call. Eames could tell the captain was pleased that Goren was being returned to duty. But he was walking a tightrope; Moran would tolerate no further insolence from him. She hoped he realized that and took it to heart.

In the middle of the afternoon, Goren and Eames got called into Ross' office. The captain laid out his expectations very clearly. He would allow Goren some leeway to get the job done, but he made it clear that Moran was gunning for him and he had to watch his step. Among the detectives in the department, he and Logan were at the top of the chief's shit list. The main point of the talk was caution. "Watch your step, detective. There is only so much I can do for you, so don't push it."

Goren was subdued as they walked back to their desks. "You can't just take things upon yourself, Bobby," Eames warned. "Procedures are in place for a reason. I know you don't particularly like that, but those are the boundaries we have to stay inside."

He waved his hand impatiently. "I know that, Eames. And you know there are sometimes better ways to go about things."

She sighed in frustration as he dropped into his chair. "I can't keep taking the fall for you, partner," she complained.

He picked up an envelope from his desk and studied it for a moment before he looked up at her. "I never asked you to."

Sliding his finger under the flap, he opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of card stock. Printed neatly on the white paper was a poem:

Everything comes so easy to him.
He Always takes it for granted;
She is Meant to be treated better.
Yet he continues Eating away at her life
And she gets the Short end of the stick.
Can I settle this matter for him?
I'm An expert at making things tick.
I will Respond to his arrogance around 5.

"What's that?" Eames asked.

He handed it to her and studied the envelope more closely. It was paper that could be purchased at any stationary store. He took the card when she handed it back and held it up to the light. It was too thick to contain a watermark. She wore a puzzled frown. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know."

He leaned back in his chair and studied the card, reading the words over and over. By the end of the day, he knew them by heart, but he still had no idea what they referred to. Eames straightened her desk and put her things away as he turned his attention to the structure of the words: grammar, punctuation, capitalization. He waved to Eames as she said good night, barely acknowledging her teasing admonition not to stay there all night long.

He sat up suddenly, a dark frown clouding his face. Patterns...He was good at seeing patterns. He noted the placement in each line of the capitalized letters: one, two, three, four, five...one, two, three...E-A-M-E-S C-A-R.

Swearing, he dropped the card on his desk and bolted for the stairwell.

Eames approached her car, keys in hand. It had been a good day. The card, whatever it was, managed to keep Goren occupied for the remainder of the afternoon and she smiled about that. He loved puzzles. As she slid the key into the door lock, she heard a shout. Turning, she was surprised when her partner grabbed her and dragged her away from the car. Glancing at his watch, he ran her halfway down the level before knocking her to the ground and dropping on top of her. His watch read five o'clock as he landed. The ground beneath them shook violently and a powerful, hot wind gushed over them. Chunks of concrete and car pieces rained down on them. As the air around them settled, Goren pulled away from her. "Are you all right, Eames?"

She sat up slowly and glared at him. He looked at the ground. "I-I'm sorry. I, uh, I just figured it out..."

He trailed off as people began to arrive. She didn't say a word, but got to her feet and walked to the burning shell of metal, plastic and fabric that used to be her car and the ones adjacent to it. The air was filled with the acrid scent of burning wires, melting plastic and hot metal. Goren also approached the smoldering wreck, but as he got closer and closer, Eames grabbed his jacket and pulled him back. "Let the bomb squad do it. That's their job, not yours."

They heard a familiar voice, raised in anger. "What the hell happened here?"

Goren faded into the background, leaning against a nearby car and hoping not to get noticed. It was his first day back and he did not want blame for this to fall on him. He was also caught offguard by his partner's anger. Ross arrived a few moments later, as Moran was screaming at the people gathered. "What do you mean, you don't know? There was an explosion in the parking garage at police headquarters! Whose cars are involved?"

"Mine was one, chief," Eames said as Ross came to stand behind her.

Moran glared at her as Ross casually scanned the surroundings until he found Goren. He gave him a brief nod and Goren stayed where he was. Four cars had been engulfed by the explosion and a number of others had suffered damage. In the midst of the confusion, Ross stepped away from the crowd to Goren's side. The man looked a little shell-shocked. "What happened?" he asked, not intending to be overheard.

"Someone left a notecard on my desk with a poem on it. It took half the afternoon for me to figure out that it was a threat against Eames. I got her away from the car just in time."

Ross nodded slowly. "Wait here." He found Eames and leaned close to speak into her ear. "I'm taking Goren back up to the squad room. Come up when you're done here."

She nodded and he squeezed her arm. Stepping away from her, he walked away from the crowd and motioned to Goren, who joined him. They left the area without being noticed.