NYPD's Counterterrorism Special Projects Unit works with detectives from Major Case to help investigate the threat of an assassination. Bobby Goren and Alex Eames figure prominently in the investigation...

For those who like a timeline kind of reference, I'd say late season 4/early season 5-ish fic.

All rights belong to others.

SPECIAL PROJECT

PART I - SIGHTING THE SHOT

"Come on," he said. "You're late."

Alex had to run to keep up with him as he practically drug her into the elevator. Leaning against the wall as the doors closed in front of her, she looked at her watch. "Bobby, it's 7:45, I'm not late."

"Really? Only 7:45. Huh, I thought it was later than that. I kept wondering why everyone was running behind this morning."

Alex frowned as she looked at Bobby. His clothes were clean and fresh, but the rest of him looked worn and used. She wasn't surprised to see his pallid complexion or tired eyes. "How long have you been here?"

"Not that long," He said as he stepped out of the elevator and headed for his car. Alex hurried to catch up. Sliding into the driver's seat, she glanced at her partner.

"Not long, huh? I'm guessing you were here all night . . . again."

"I went home."

"For what, a shower and a change of clothes?" She sighed and shook her head. "I knew it. You haven't slept in a week and you've barely eaten. You can't keep driving yourself like this."

He frowned and stared out the windshield. "Look, just quit nagging. This will all be over tomorrow, one way or another."

"Yes, and you're going to wind up in the hospital. Why do you do this to yourself?"

The ambassador to some tiny country Alex couldn't name, much less find on a map, was making a speech tomorrow in support of the United States war against terrorism. Their support was only important because several larger, more financially able countries seemed to value their opinion on such matters. Homeland Security had received information indicating that there would be an assassination attempt. The FBI and the NYPD's Counterterrorism Division's Special Projects Unit were working together to assess the threat. Several teams of the Major Case Squad were assisting with the endless rounds of interrogations, searches, and the tracking down of leadless leads. In other words, it had all been one big wild goose chase.

Alex was beginning to wonder if there really was an assassination attempt planned or if someone just liked watching the cops and feds chase their tails. If it was the latter, they were getting a good laugh. When she had confessed her doubts to Bobby, he had confessed his concern – what if it was a diversion? – and there was another target.

Bobby had been stressed those first couple of days, but it had quickly morphed into almost paranoid obsession. He took every lead that had them running in circles as a personal failure. Every interrogation that failed to yield useful information he went over repeatedly, trying to figure out what he'd missed. She had worked with him long to know that he felt that every mistake made was his. How could anyone do as good a job as he did and still feel like he'd failed?

"Sorry about the nagging comment. That was uncalled for." She smiled at the way he avoided making eye contact when he apologized. It was uncalled for and it had hurt her, but she accepted his apology.

"It's okay. I guess I was starting to sound more like your mother than your partner."

"Amen to that," He added quickly. He paused a second and then chanced a glance at her. "I probably shouldn't have agreed with that, should I?"

Alex chuckled. "Well, it would have been nice if you had least had to think about it . . . but it's okay. For the record, I still think you're pushing yourself too hard."

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck and shifted around in his seat. He knew she was right. He was so tired, he could barely think and he felt a little like someone had run over him when he wasn't looking. "I know, I know, but . . . every time I try to get some sleep, it's like my brain won't shut off. I just keep replaying every interview, every search, and every report I've read. I just have this feeling I'm missing something and if I just keep going over it, I'll see it."

As they pulled out of the 1PP parking garage, Alex looked out the window of the car and frowned. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Ballroom A of the Convention Center, where the speech will be tomorrow. I want to check out the building and the security arrangements again." He threw up a hand in frustration. "I don't know what else to do at this point."

Alex nodded. "Well, it sounds as good as anything."

Bobby seemed to relax a little as they pulled into a parking place. "Thanks, Eames. I promise, when this thing is over, I'll sleep for a week."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise, Bobby Goren."

#

They had spent another couple of hours walking through the Convention Center, particularly Ballroom A and the rooms adjoining it. They still had nothing to go on.

They'd gone back to 1PP and restlessly went through the personnel files of the Convention Center again.

"Goren, go home. Now. I need you awake tomorrow." Captain James Deakins tapped Bobby's desk as he walked away for emphasis. "I'm not asking," he added as he walked into his office and closed the door.

"What did you say to him?" asked Bobby as Alex walked up to stand beside him, looking down at the papers and files scattered across his desk.

Alex shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't say anything. The man has eyes, Bobby. He didn't get to be Captain of Major Case by hiding his head in the sand."

Bobby looked down at the mess on his desk and thought about how many times he'd read every piece of paper there. "You know, he's right. You're right. What am I doing? Nothing I haven't done twenty times already." He stood up and grabbed his coat off the chair. "Let's go."

Bobby walked off and when he realized Alex wasn't following him, he turned and added, "And close your mouth. It's not that unusual."

Alex smiled as she pulled on her own coat as they walked to the elevator. "Actually, it is. But I'm proud of you."

Bobby grunted as he punched the button. "Don't be proud until we get the Ambassador out of here safely tomorrow." The doors opened and they stepped in, turning to watch them slowly close. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

#

Alex sighed as she watched the long line of people go through the metal detector, one at a time. She was mentally and physically exhausted from focusing on each individual as they made their way through the process. While the security people went through a man's bag, she took a mental break and glanced around. Bobby had sidled up to her at some point and she caught his eye as he smiled at her.

"You look really tired. Look, I know how boring and thoroughly exhausting this is, but hang in there a little longer."

Alex grimaced at him for just a second before giving him a grin and a nod. She felt better knowing he understood. And looking at the bags under his eyes, he was at least as tired as she was. Just because she got him to go home at a halfway decent hour yesterday, didn't mean he actually slept.

And while she'd been standing here watching people stand in line, she assumed he'd been running all over the building for the last three hours looking for unprotected points of entry. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the line of people, now slowly moving forward again.

Three people later, a large, burly man of almost 300 pounds and wearing a sour expression went through the metal detector, setting off alarms as he hurried away.

She turned to find Bobby watching her intently, his hand already going for his gun. She nodded and he spun around and ran for the man. "Sir, you need to stop where you are."

Security people stationed around the entrance quickly divided into two groups, half staying at the entrance to keep it secure and the other half advancing on the man with Bobby. The man kept going at his same pace, apparently unaware of the order shouted at him. Bobby picked up speed, his gun drawn.

"Sir, stop now and turn around, your hands in the air." Bobby's voice firm and commanding, showing no hint of the exhaustion in his eyes. This time the man stopped and slowly turned around, his expression growing fearful as he took in the five men around him with their guns aimed his direction.

"Please . . . don't shoot. What did I do?"

Bobby gave a short nod then approached the man. One of the other guards searched the suspect, pulling a small penknife from the man's pocket. A moment later, he nodded to indicate that was all the man had and everyone relaxed their stance slightly.

Bobby smirked and shook he head as he put his gun away. He'd carried a pocketknife with him for years, but now did so only when he was on the job. Paranoia and fear was rampant in the city. And there were metal detectors at the entrances of too many building now.

"Come on, let's go." Bobby turned to Alex.

Alex frowned and stopped, making him stop and look back at her. "Okay, now what?"

"Well, we walk around and see if we missed anything."

Alex smiled knowingly, "And just how many times have you already done that?"

"Not enough, since I still haven't found anything."

They walked up the stairs to the next level and began checking each room down the hall. Alex followed quietly, "What if there's nothing to find? What if there is no assassination attempt?"

Bobby closed the door of the room he'd just checked. "There will be. I feel it."

"Oh, so now you're clairvoyant?"

"Gut feeling."

Alex snorted. "Oh, that's even better. The famed magic gut."

Bobby stopped and looked at her. "When has it ever been wrong? When have I ever thought something seemed off that it wasn't?"

Alex frowned and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, I guess never. You keep doing your thing and I'll keep doing mine."

"Thanks," he said quietly as they continued down the hall.

#

Forty minutes later, the elevator came to a stop on the first floor and they stepped off. A tall man with dark blonde hair nodded at them as he pushed a large yellow rolling bucket past them by the mop handle and stepped into the elevator. Alex almost ran into Bobby as he stopped two steps later and turned around, staring at the closing elevator door. He suddenly lunged for the door, but it closed in front of him. Alex had just enough time to register the shocked look on the janitor's face.

"Bobby, what are doing? What's wrong?"

"Victor Martinez . . . he's not supposed to be here today and… and that wasn't him. We need to find out what floor he's going to."

Alex frowned and her jaw dropped open. "How do you know who that is or whether he's supposed to work today?"

"What floor is the speech going to be given on?"

"Fourth floor."

"Fourth, you're sure?"

Alex nodded. "Yeah, it was in our briefing materials… yeah, fourth floor. You remember everything but what floor the speech is being given from?"

Bobby grabbed his radio. "Patel, are you still on five?" Static filled his radio, causing Bobby to growl with anger. "Who's on five? We have a suspect coming your way." Bobby was already moving for the stairwell, throwing the door open and taking the stairs quickly as Alex rushed to catch up.

"Radio's not working; we'll have to check this ourselves."

Alex was three steps behind Bobby, trying to keep pace. "I don't understand. How did you know who that was?"

"His nametag said Martinez, but he doesn't look anything like the picture with the personnel files. And there isn't anyone else who looks like him either, so he didn't just borrow a buddy's uniform."

"You read his nametag?"

"Sure, and I studied all the personnel files so I'd know who actually worked here. Plus, according to the work schedule for today - they cleaned the building last night - and only had one person working on each floor to catch any spills. Martinez . . . is not on the schedule." They were both getting out of breath as they neared the fourth floor door.

Alex marveled, unsure of what was more amazing, the fact that Bobby remembered who worked there and when, or the fact that he knew what all of them looked like. Then there was the fact that he read the man's nametag and looked at him closely enough to know that it wasn't him while passing on the way out of an elevator. She stopped behind him as he peered out the stairwell door and then threw it open and burst out, gun in hand. She watched as he ran to the elevator and punched the button, sliding to one side with gun up and trained on the opening doors. The mop bucket sat unattended in the compartment.

Bobby wheeled around and looked down the hall, already moving down the corridor as his eyes darted back and forth. The fifth floor was mostly small meeting rooms and storage, cleared by security for the big speech that was now only minutes away.

Bobby suddenly froze and stood staring into space for several seconds while Alex waited. "Son of a bitch. I…I think I know where he is. I should have figured this out before now."

She was about to ask what he meant when he took off down the hall. "I think I know what he's planning. I can't believe I didn't see it before now." He stopped at a door at the end of the hall and held his index finger to his lips. She crept up to the door and pressed against it.

Alex shook her head, pointing at Bobby and then farther down the hall. There was no way she was letting him go up against an assassin alone.

"Eames, I can't leave. This room backs up to the ballroom, where the speech is going to be given. I think he's cut through the wall so he can look down on the Ambassador. I've got to stop him from shooting and you've got to go for help. I need you to do this."

Alex cringed. He was giving her 'the look'. His head tilted sideways, he leaned forward slightly, his expression dead serious as he peered at her from under his brows. She hated that look. She mouthed, "Be careful," and hurried back down the hall, hoping it didn't take long to find help.

Bobby watched her go and then pressed his ear to the door. Hearing nothing, he very slowly cracked the door open a slit and peered in. He wasn't surprised to see a round hole about six inches in diameter in the far wall. A stack of boxes blocked his view of the area just to the right of the hole, but he thought he saw a shadow on the floor. As quietly as possible, he pushed the door open until he could begin moving into the room. He was aware of movement from behind the door a split second before something slammed into the side of his head.

Alex flew down the stairs so fast that she almost mowed down the man on the landing between floors. They grabbed each other's arms and managed to keep from crashing into the floor or down the steps. The man laughed timidly. "I'm sorry, I think I'm lost. I'm trying to find –"

"Listen, I need you to get some of the security people up to the fifth floor. I'm with the NYPD and my partner is up there trying to subdue an assassin by himself. Tell them to go to the last room on the left at the end of the hall and hurry." She didn't wait for the man to reply, she had to trusted that he would do as asked and headed back up the stairs to help Bobby. As she reached the door to the fourth floor, she glanced back down at the shocked man. "Go, now!" When he darted down the stairs, she went through the door.

She approached the door carefully when she saw Bobby was no longer in the hall. The door was cracked open an inch or so, so she chanced a glance in. Seeing Bobby lying on the floor did little to make her feel better. He was on his side facing away from her and the puddle of blood beneath his head really did nothing to make her feel any better. Cold fear settled like a weight on her chest when she realized she couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

Taking a deep breath, she looked across the room and could see the hole in the wall. A rifle with a scope was up against the wall next to the opening, but no one seemed to be in the room. Maybe Bobby had scared him off. She listened carefully, hearing nothing at first. Too late, she heard it. As she tried to turn away, the door slammed open and an arm grabbed her around the throat and then threw her down to the floor and dragged her into the room. She heard the door slam shut as she scrambled to her feet and looked into the barrel of a silencer.

The man they had passed getting off the elevator stood smiling at her, a gun aimed at her head. "I knew he wouldn't have come alone. Now get over against the wall." He motioned toward the wall across the room from where Bobby lay. Alex slowly backed up, keeping her eyes on the man and the gun.

"Is . . . is he alive?"

"If he is, he won't be for long. I'm really sorry, but I have work to do and I can't leave any witnesses. That means both of you will have to die. Don't worry, I'll make it quick. You won't feel a thing. I'm a professional."

She thought about rushing the man, thinking anything was better than just standing against the wall, waiting to be executed. Before she could act, the sound of a gun going off startled her, making her flinch visibly. She stood staring at the man's shocked expression, wondering why she wasn't dead and had still heard the shot. The fake Martinez fell forward, hitting the floor in front of her with a loud thump. Alex jumped, her back slamming into the wall. Shaking and confused, she looked up to see Bobby, blood almost covering the right side of his face as he swayed back and forth. Their eyes met for just a second before he fell to his knees and then slumped over onto his side.

"Bobby!" She kicked the would-be assassin's gun away and ran over to kneel beside her partner. Her hand trembled as she felt for a pulse and she let out a long breath when she found one. When the security team crashed through the door, Alex found herself jumping yet again and wondering just how many jolts like that her heart could take in one day.

PART II - HURT PRIDE

"Bobby, can you open your eyes for me?"

He thought he recognized the voice, but it had awakened him enough to make him aware of the stabbing pain in his head that seemed to accompany the fireworks show now taking place behind his eyelids, and he didn't appreciate it one bit.

"That's it, come on Bobby, I need you to wake up for me." He was becoming aware of hands touching his body, prodding and poking. A sharp pain in his arm, made him wince and try to pull away. Cool air stroked his bare skin for a moment and he shivered.

"Lea'me lone," he slurred, trying to roll away from the voices and hands, but firm grips pinned him down.

"Bobby, you need to stop fighting us. We're trying to help you."

He struggled to open his eyes and see who belonged to the voice that kept drilling holes in the side of his head. Only managing a slight crack, it was enough to make out blurry images, moving around him. He blinked, trying to clear the haze. "What?"

"That's good, now just relax. Are you with me? Detective, can you understand what I'm saying?"

A woman with blonde hair pulled back came into focus. The bright lights behind her made him feel like someone had just planted an axe in his face, so he closed his eyes.

"No, Bobby, stay with me. Bobby do you remember me? I'm Dr. Kirkus."

"Bright," he managed to croak out. He felt someone tugging at his lid and then an intense point of light hit his eye, making him flinch away. His head held in place though, and he didn't have the energy or coordination to fight against it. The process was repeated with his other eye. Everything faded for a while and then the voice came back.

"Bobby, I need you to come back here. I need to ask you some questions. Do you remember what happened?"

He really wanted the woman to go away. He wanted to tell her she was making his head hurt, but he didn't seem to have a lot of control over his body. Everything but the pain felt distant and foreign. He couldn't think.

"Bobby?"

"What?" he asked sharply, his response spiking the pain to the point he could barely breathe. The hands were back, stroking him as if seeking to comfort him. When the pain subsided enough he could catch his breath, he opened his eyes again. This time the woman came into focus almost immediately, smiling down at him with a slight nod.

"That's it, just try to stay with me a minute. I need to know if anything hurts besides your head."

Bobby tried to make his mind work, pushing past the pain in his head to evaluate the rest of his body. "No."

"Okay, that's good. Look, you took quite a blow to the head and you're in the emergency room. There are a few more tests I want to run, then we'll get some x-rays and get you stitched up, okay?"

Something kept tugging at his thoughts as he tried to process what the doctor was saying. He'd been in the Convention Center . . . with Alex. The assassin and Eames? He automatically pulled up, only to be held down by the people surrounding him.

"Bobby, lie still." When she was certain he wasn't going anywhere, the doctor looked up at one of the nurses to her left. "Do you know where his partner is?"

"Is she all right?" He whispered, spots of light still dancing around from his attempt at sitting up. The second voice returned, but this time a face accompanied it. A young nurse with big, brown eyes leaned over to smile at him. She had neon blue streaks in her otherwise dark hair, making him wonder just how hard he'd been hit.

"Detective Eames is fine. She has a sprained wrist, but it's already been wrapped and she's been waiting to see how you are."

"Thanks," He said softly, staring at the blue hair, waiting on it to turn a normal color. The smiling face left and was replaced by the doctor, who seemed to be smirking.

"Don't worry, Detective, her hair is really blue. You aren't seeing things." He thought he heard giggling from the side of the room. "Now, we're going to get x-rays in a few minutes and then Alex can sit with you while we stitch you up, okay?"

"Mmm," Bobby groaned, letting his eyes slip closed to shut out the light. There was a jumble of things in his brain and he still wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew at one point Alex had been in danger. Now that he knew she was okay, he could relax. The sounds and voices around him slowly faded away.

He was moving. He opened his eyes and quickly closed them again as the ceiling lights flashed in his eyes and everything around him blurred. A hand took his and a familiar voice comforted him.

"I'm here, Bobby. You're going to be okay."

She really was all right. "Eames?" He tried opening his eyes again, but the blurry flash of movement made his stomach roll and he felt the burn of stomach acid crawling up the back of his throat. The gurney seemed to jerk to a halt and the acid surged up in his mouth, choking him. He coughed and tried to roll on his side.

"Bobby, what's … oh!" He lifted a little, gagging and still trying to keep his stomach contents in his stomach. He made it a few inches when the hot liquid spewed out, his stomach muscles convulsively clamping down long after there was nothing left to push out.

The next thing he knew, the right side of his face and neck felt very hot. He became aware of soft voices and movement over him, along with a strange tugging sensation on the side of his head. He was propped partially on his back and on his side. Blinking a few times, he slowly worked his eyes open to see Alex peering at him curiously, as she sat in chair beside the bed.

"Hey, take it easy. The doctor is stitching you up, so don't move around. Just please, in the future, give me a little warning the next time you feel like throwing up."

Alex smiled and he realized she was holding his hand, her right wrist wrapped in an ace bandage. Looking past their hands, he next saw that she was wearing a hospital scrub top.

"Uh, sorry," he whispered. He thought he vaguely remembered getting dizzy and feeling sick at some point, but everything else was a blur. "You 'kay?" He also remembered being worried about her. Actually, it was more like being terrified, but he wasn't sure why. Flashes of things kept popping in and out of his thoughts, but none of it made much sense.

"I'm fine," she said, squeezing his hand. She glanced up at the doctor and then back down at Bobby, winking. "I'm sure you're a little confused at this point. Would you like me to fill in some blanks?"

"Thanks. I think my brains are scrambled."

Alex nodded. "Okay, I'm not sure what you remember, so I'll start mostly at the beginning. We've been investigating a possible assassination attempt on the ambassador today during her speech. You noticed someone dressed like maintenance person who didn't match the picture in his personnel files. You also knew he wasn't supposed to be at the Convention Center today, so we followed him up to the fourth floor. Any of that sound familiar?"

Bobby winced at a sudden flash of pain, holding his breath for a few seconds. "Yeah … sort of."

"You figured out what room the guy was in and that he had cut a hole in the wall to sight his shot, then you sent me for help. Our radios weren't working and all of the security people seemed to have abandoned the fourth floor. I found out later that Krusov, our assassin, had a device to scramble the radios, which he activated when he passed us on his way up."

The burn in Bobby's throat and mouth made him feel like puking again. When they eased him back down to the bed, the movement kicked up the vertigo for a while and voices were lost in the buzzing in his ears. When the buzzing finally went away and the stabbing pain had settled a bit, he opened his eyes again. The heat and light from the lamp were gone and he was on his back, the head of the bed elevated slightly.

"Hey, are you back?" Alex asked as she stood up and moved closer to his head. They were in the room alone.

"Yeah . . guess I conked out for a while."

"It's okay. They're moving you to a room in a little while. Looks like you're here for a few days."

Bobby frowned. "Days?"

Alex briefly lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "You have a severe concussion and they had to put …I think Dr. Kirkus said nineteen stitches in the side of your head. I'm afraid your hair is going to be messed up for a while on the right side. Oh, and you're suffering from exhaustion and dehydration again. Dr. Kirkus says she's going to keep you in here, if she has to keep you sedated the whole time."

Bobby glared at Alex. "You are entirely too happy about this."

Alex crossed her arms and sighed. "It's not that I'm happy, it's just that… you don't take care of yourself. I told you that you'd end up in the hospital if you didn't . . ." Alex stopped and let her arms drop to her sides. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go all 'I told you so' on you. I know you don't do it on purpose."

"No, I don't. Maybe I do get kind of obsessed . . . and I'm not sure I can change that." Bobby shifted in the bed and noticed for the first time he was in a hospital gown. "Eames… where are my clothes?"

Alex grinned and patted his arm. "Don't worry about your clothes. You won't need them for a while. Now, as to who undressed you… "

"Never mind, don't want to know. I hate this." He looked down at his hand and fiddled with the IV line taped to the back. "I hate these things too."

Alex slapped at his handy. "Leave that alone. Here let me finish telling you everything that happened. Maybe I can keep you distracted until they move you or until you pass out again."

"Funny," Bobby said sarcastically, trying to make a face at her without moving his aching head.

Voices began filtering in long before Bobby made any sense of the words.

" . . . pretty ingenious, with the jamming device and a diversion on both the second and third floors to attract most of the security personnel. We were lucky Goren figured out what was going on and recognized, or didn't recognize that guy. I hate to think about the fallout if Krusov had been successful." Was that Deakins?

"I still find it hard to believe he figured out Krusov was a fake just by passing him on the way out of an elevator. Did you see the size of that personnel file they sent over? How does anyone memorize all the names and faces and work schedules of that many people in that length of time? That was just dumb luck."

"No, Patell, that wasn't dumb luck. That's Detective Robert Goren. Why do you think I wanted him for Major Case? He has the mind and the drive to solve cases."

He was awake enough to recognize the sigh that came from Alex. "Yes, well that drive would have put him in the hospital even if Krusov hadn't."

"What time is it?" he asked, noting the dark color under her tired eyes.

"Almost ten-thirty. I finally convinced them to let you get a few hours sleep without waking you up to see if they could."

"Thanks, but you look exhausted."

Alex smiled. "No, I'm a little tired. You're the one suffering from exhaustion."

"Touché."

Deakins stepped up to the opposite side of the bed. "Alex tells us she's filled in the gaps from what you remember. You two did a good job out there, Bobby. You saved our country a great embarrassment, not to mention a political fiasco that would have haunted us for years."

Bobby gave a small smile. "I was thinking we saved someone's life."

Patel rolled his eyes, but Deakins laughed and gripped Bobby's shoulder. "That you did, Bobby that you did."

"I'm just glad we made it," he said as he flashed a look at Eames. "And that neither one of us got killed.

Alex gave a small smile and a nod.

Deakins moved his hands to grip the bed rails. "A lot of people are thankful for that. Alex explained how you knew Krusov wasn't a maintenance guy, but I've been wondering how you knew which room he'd be in and what he was planning."

Bobby tried to shift his stiffening muscles without moving his head. "I remembered when I checked the room earlier that day, the boxes had been moved from where they'd been the day before. Someone had moved them across the room to sit in front of the back wall. I just put that with the blueprint of the building and realized that it would be easy to cut through that wall and you'd have a perfect view of the speaker in the ballroom below."

Patel sighed and shook his head. "That's . . . freaky."

"No, Patel, that's good work and attention to detail. Goren, get some rest and give yourself time to recover. You've earned it." He looked across Bobby to Alex. "Make sure your partner doesn't try to do too much too fast. We need him healthy again."

"I can try, but no promises and no guarantees."

Deakins looked back down at Bobby before turning to leave. "Listen to your partner. She's a smart lady."

"Yes sir, I know."

After seeing the two men to the door, Alex returned to the bed. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine. Except . . . well, thanks for staying last night. I know it wasn't easy, with the nurses traipsing in and out every few minutes."

An image of Bobby holding his gun while blood ran down his face and he swayed on his feet came to mind. She remembered the fear that had filled her in those moments when she was sure she was going to die and the relief that followed when Bobby saved her. She took his hand. "I'd say it wasn't much, considering that if it weren't for you, I'd be a cold body in the morgue right now. I haven't had a chance to say thank you yet, so . . . thank you, for saving my life."

Bobby shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the bed. "Hey, we're partners, right? Partners take care of each other."

"Yes, we are and . . . we do. Now, at last count, you had about a week's worth of sleep to catch up on and I seem to remember you promising to do that when this whole thing was over.

#

"Wow, you were hungry," Alex noted as she watched Bobby finish off the tray of food. "You ate every bite, an unusual feat for you."

Bobby set the fork down and leaned back against the pillows. "I had no idea how hungry I was until I started eating, then I realized I was starving."

Alex grinned. "Dr. Kirkus will be pleased. You might actually get out of here some day."

Bobby snorted and crossed his arms. "I still don't know why I have to wear this stupid gown." He frowned at Alex's grin. "What do you know?"

Alex shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I may have accidentally heard Deakins telling the doctor to make sure you stayed until she was ready to release you and to make sure you didn't get up and let yourself out early. Then I might have heard the doctor tell the nurses to keep you in a gown to reduce the risk of premature flight. She thought you'd be less likely to sneak out in an open gown with your backside showing, I guess."

"This is so not fair. I can sleep at home in a lot more comfortable bed more easily than I can sleep here."

Alex pointed to the IV. "Well, I figure that's one reason. Another is that you still get dizzy and almost pass out when you stand up. A third is that everyone knows you won't rest at home, you'll find something to work on."

"We have no cases right now."

"Then you'll try to write up the report on the assassination attempt, or at least the part you've been able to remember."

"Hey, I actually remember most of it now. And I do need to be working on that report. It's going to be a doozy. Maybe you could bring my laptop up here if they won't let me out."

"No. Rest. Remember?"

"Bobby, what are you doing?"

"Don't worry, I just want to hit the bathroom before I doze off."

Alex moved up to stand beside him as he sat on the edge of the bed, getting ready to slide her hand around his waist. "Wait and I'll help."

Bobby waved her away. "I can make it okay."

"No, you can't. Dr. Kirkus said for you not to get out of bed by yourself. You're still getting dizzy."

"I don't want you helping me to the bathroom. You're my partner and that's… just… wrong."

Alex raised one eyebrow in a serious scowl. "Would it be okay if I was a man?"

"That's beside the point… and probably not. Eames…it's the bathroom… it's personal. It's not an experience I want to share."

"It's not like you have anything I haven't seen before . . . do you?"

Bobby's eyes widened. "Just where have you been looking?" He stood and took a half dozen steps before he fell sideways onto the floor.

"I think you might have been right about me still needing help."

"Ya think? Are you hurt?" She pushed the call button to summon the nurse.

"Just my pride."

Part III - Home Turf

Alex watched Bobby shuffle carefully into his apartment, making an obvious effort not to move too quickly. "Want me to fix you something to eat?"

Bobby eased himself down on the couch, disturbed by how tiring it had been just walk from the car to his apartment. "No, I'm not hungry. How's the wrist?"

Alex opened and closed her hands a few times, fingering the bandage wrapped around her arm. "It's okay; it was just a mild sprain. I'm mostly just keeping the bandage for support because I keep forgetting and trying to pick stuff up with my right hand."

"Take care of it. You don't want it to give you trouble later." He watched his feet for a few seconds before looking back up at her. "Look, I'll be fine."

Alex sat in the easy chair a few feet from the couch, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up in the chair. "You just got out of the hospital."

"Exactly," said Bobby. "I was released, as in I don't need medical supervision any more. I'm fine, Eames, really. You don't have to stay."

"I could take this time to remind you that you're still having headaches and dizzy spells and I know you still feel weak."

"Eames," he drawled.

She sighed loudly and pouted. "So, you don't want me here."

"I'm just trying to say that I don't want you to feel like you have to stay and take care of me and . . . you're doing that on purpose, aren't you."

She grinned impishly, waggling her eyebrows up and down several times. Bobby leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes a moment. "We could… watch a movie or something if you want."

"Great," she replied, reaching over to snag the remote from the table. She turned on the TV and flipped through several channels before settling on a channel just beginning a movie. Looking over at Bobby, she found him watching her. "What?"

"I was just thinking . . . you're a good partner . . . and a good friend."

"So are you." They sat looking at one another quietly for a few moments before she gave him a big grin and got up. "I'm making popcorn."

"Popcorn sounds great. How about grabbing me a Coke while you're in there?"

"What do I look like, your maid," she called back playfully over her shoulder.

"I just got out of the hospital, remember? I've still got stitches and bandages and pain meds." Bobby smiled and took his shoes off, twisting around to stretch out fully on the couch.

"I'm sorry, I thought like a minute ago you were telling me how fine you were and you didn't need me to stay." She stood in the kitchen and waited for the popcorn to finish popping. She thought she heard a muffled reply, but couldn't understand him over the TV and the popcorn, which was now making a lot of noise. The microwave finally beeped and she emptied the hot kernels into a bowl she'd grabbed from the cabinet. Grabbing two Cokes from the refrigerator, she carried everything to the living room and set it all down on the coffee table.

"Okay, your snacks have arrived."

"Mmm, thanks."

Alex looked over to see half-lidded eyes fighting to come to life. "You'll be asleep before the first commercial."

Bobby lifted his head a little and stretched out, snagging a few kernels. "Will not. That's almost all I've done for three days. Or was it four?"

Alex shrugged her shoulders. "Probably closer to four, but you needed it. And you didn't get much sleep that first day because they kept waking you up." She sat on the floor next to Bobby and set the bowl in her lap where he could reach it. His hand came down over her shoulder and dipped into the bowl.

Alex glanced back over her shoulder in time to see two pieces of popcorn pop out of his hand and get lost in the cushions. She watched him push up and try to find the errant pieces, finally slapping at his hand. "Lay down, I'll get that later. You are supposed to be resting."

"It'll attract roaches or ants or maybe mice," he said, ignoring her.

"Not in a couple of hours. Honestly Bobby, you are so OCD about some things."

Bobby jerked his head up to protest, but immediately regretted the motion and slowly lowered his head to the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you all right?"

"Fine . . . just . . . give me a minute." He lay still as the jackhammer in his head slowly backed off. You'd think I'd know by now not to do that.

Alex let out breath. "Well, you are stubborn and a little set in your ways."

"Am not," he muttered, his eyes opening a slit as he smiled up at her.

"R-i-i-ght. You just keep telling yourself that." She watched as he slowly lifted his head and looked around. Realizing what he wanted, she handed him his Coke and watched as he drank some, handing it back to her. She replaced the cap and set it on the table.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Now, are we going to watch this movie?" she asked.

"That's the plan," he said lazily. "Man, it feels good to have clothes on again. And I appreciate the special delivery of the clean boxers, as embarrassing as that was."

"Not as bad as your swan dive to the floor, I'm betting."

"No, I think that was the highlight of my stay, barely topping out puking all over your shirt. On the up side, I got two phone numbers along with my discharge papers." He frowned slightly. "I think one of them was the girl with blue hair, though."

Alex laughed. "I can't see you dating someone with blue hair. You're too . . . old-fashioned."

He grimaced as he palmed more popcorn. "The fact that she's at least twenty years younger than me bothered me more than the blue hair, although that was definitely odd."

"Look at it as a complement. When you were in the emergency room, she kept asking me how I liked working with someone so hot." Alex grinned when he groaned and put a hand on his face.

"Could we just watch the movie please?"

His hand dipped back into the popcorn bowl and she relaxed, turning back around to watch the TV. By the time the movie was half over, she could hear his even breathing over her shoulder. Deciding her rear end was almost paralyzed; she climbed to her feet and took the nearly empty bowl back to the kitchen. When she returned, she took the blanket off the back of the couch and draped over the sleeping figure of her partner before settling down in the easy chair to watch the rest of the movie. She could dig through his cabinets later and figure out what to make him for supper.