A/N – Dick Wolf is the master of the Law and Order domain; I'm just playin'.

It was just a regular day at the office; well, up until the point all hell broke loose, anyway. Goren and Eames were, as usual, working their way through a complicated case, doing the always-glamorous research needed to pinpoint a suspect. Working with a large pile of files on a conference room table, they had each chosen several that had promise, and had just exchanged piles to get the others' perspective on their choices. As they were reading through the others' files, Eames suddenly gasped, turned pale, and ran from the room. Stunned, Bobby was frozen for a moment; it was totally unlike his even-tempered partner to get upset, and his brain was working overtime trying to figure out what it was that had set her off.

He realized that she had taken the file she was looking at with her, and so followed her out to the squad room. To his utter shock, she was on the phone, screaming at some unknown source of aggravation, "HOW is it possible that I was not told about this? This is UNACCEPTABLE, and you know it. I wasn't even given the chance to be there!" She listened to something being said, then, though he didn't think it was possible, paled even further, sitting down hard in her chair. In a flash he was beside her, full of concern and not a little fear. Deflated, she flipped her cell closed, unable or unwilling even to meet his eyes. Clutching the offending file to her chest, she grabbed her jacket and purse off the back of her chair, mumbled "I'm going home," and left. Not one to be so easily put off, Bobby chased her down the hall to the elevator. "Eames, what the hell is wrong? I-if you tell me, maybe I can h-help." Still keeping her head down, she said quietly, "Not this time, Bobby, I-I just need to be alone right now, okay? I'm sorry."

Knowing that she wouldn't ask him for something she didn't really need, he decided to let it be for the moment. "Okay. Call me if you need me." He was rewarded with a glimpse of her teary face as she looked up briefly to attempt a smile for him. "Thanks, I will." With that, she got in the elevator and was gone, leaving a very concerned and now-determined partner in her wake.

Alone time or no, I need to find out what in the hell was in that file. I've never seen her like that; no one's ever seen her like that. Heading back towards the conference room, he dug through the mess they'd made, looking for the inventory of files. He'd handed her about 10 from an initial batch of 50; there had to be a way of figuring out which one she'd taken through process of elimination. Fighting down his fear for her, he concentrated on the task at hand; checking off names until there was only one left, for which no file was present. That's gotta be the one she took. He looked at the name, but it rang no particular bells for him. Ruiz, Manuel. Who the hell is this guy, and why does Eames need to take his file home? Closing his eyes, he tried to envision the file he'd looked at not too long ago. What had caught his attention about Mr. Ruiz? Drug dealer, recently paroled after serving time for something; what was it?

He went back to his desk and fired up his laptop; though Eames was usually the driver of both the car and the computer, he could certainly manage a basic search. Ruiz, Manuel. He waited impatiently for the results, scrolling through until he found what he was looking for, then bringing it up on the screen. Okay, yeah, this face is familiar; I looked at it before. Drug dealer, paroled late September, after serving time for…what? File blocked? What the hell is going on here? Reading further, Bobby tried to figure out why so much of this common criminal's file had been redacted, even electronically. His memory of the file returned; the redaction was why he'd pulled it out in the first place. It was rare to see an NYPD file so covered in black. No address, no family information, no nothing. After searching every page available to him, and stubbornly trying to get into even the ones that were blocked, he finally found one interesting and disturbing piece of information. Refer all inquiries to…now, that can't be right.

His frustration had reached epic heights by this point; there were few things that would drive Robert Goren over the edge more than a lack of information, and in this particular case, he was being denied it by those who usually provided to him without question. It was time to find out why.

Mentally apologizing to Eames for what he was about to do, he hit the print button, grabbed the profile and shoved it into his portfolio, and ran for the door. She could have her alone time, for now; he had work to do.