Eames woke the next morning with the weight of an arm laying across her middle. Goren's body was curled around hers and he was sleeping soundly. In the light that filtered through the shades, she watched him sleep. For so long he had run on a growing sleep debt, and she wondered when the last time was that he had gotten a night of good, restful sleep. Reaching toward him, she sifted her fingers through his hair. He had been so utterly exhausted the night before; she was glad to see him sleeping well.

Snuggling closer to his body, she smiled when his arms tightened around her. She nestled her head under his chin and listened to his slow, deep breathing. Her heart swelled with love for the gentle man who held her, and she drifted back to sleep.

Goren woke slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the woman snuggled against his body. He didn't even try searching his memory for the circumstances that brought her there; there would be time for that after he woke more fully. It definitely wasn't something new for him, and his body reacted as it did every morning he woke with someone in his arms. His head ached from the wine he'd had, and he knew it had only worsened his fatigue, but a quart of water and half a pot of coffee would have him feeling better.

He rubbed his hand over his bedmate's shirt, enjoying the feel of it. Beneath the soft cloth, he felt a compelling combination of defined muscle and soft curves. He turned more fully onto his side and buried his face in her hair...then he froze. A familiar scent filled his nose and fear gripped his gut with an icy hand. Eames.

His mind spun as he tried to recall the night before. He'd been so damn tired, but he would have sworn he got into this bed alone. Beside him, Eames moved closer, breathing out a content sigh. He desperately wished his body would calm down but his mind was on the losing end of the deal. Now what? he thought, at a total loss over what to do. If she woke in his arms, would she blame him for it? What should he do now?

He didn't have a chance to resolve his conflict. She drew in a deep breath and reached over her head to stretch. Oh...don't do that, he thought desperately.

Eames stretched, and she felt good. She had slept better than she had since Frank Goren died because, for once, she did not have to worry about his brother. She actually felt refreshed. It wasn't until she was done stretching that she realized he was awake...and very tense.

She rolled onto her side to face him, bringing herself into closer contact with his body than she intended, and she realized he had another problem that probably added to his tension.

His eyes widened. Mortified, he scrambled from the bed. "I, uh...Eames..."

He had no idea what to say, how to apologize. After a few false starts, he turned and left the room. He went into the bathroom and stood by the sink, hanging his head. What have I done now? And I don't even remember doing it!

He hadn't been drunk, just physically exhausted and emotionally depleted. He remembered being on the couch with her behind it, kneading his shoulders. He must have nodded off for a bit because the next thing he knew, his head was in her lap and she was combing her fingers through his hair. That was the most intimate she'd ever been with him. He remembered thinking he'd better sit up, move away from her, but that was the last thing he remembered. There was a fuzzy recollection of her getting him up and guiding him to the bedroom, but then she left the room and he'd gone to bed. It could have been a dream, but he woke up in the bed. He had no memory at all of her being there, but there she was, curled into his side when he woke up. Curled into his side...an all-too-familiar warmth stirred his body.

Swearing under his breath, he turned on the shower and got in.

Eames watched him leave the room and she wondered what was going through his mind. She carried no regrets about climbing into bed with him. Having him close, being held by him...she felt a certain guilty pleasure at the warmth that coursed through her at the memory of it. She sensed they were at a turning point in their relationship and she felt a small pang of guilt at the thought she had set it all in motion. There were only two potential outcomes: they would draw closer or be driven further apart. She had every intention of drawing him in closer, and she hoped he would not buck off her attempt. She slid out of bed and opened her bag, pulling out a pair of jeans and a nice shirt.

Stepping out of the bedroom, she heard the shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall. She found a second bathroom and got into a nice hot shower.

When she came out, the shower was still running in the other bathroom. She knocked on the door. "Bobby? Are you okay?"

His answer was muffled by the running water and the door, but he sounded fine. She put away her nightclothes and went down to the kitchen for coffee.

Ten minutes later, Goren came down the stairs. He was wearing black jeans and a blue NYPD t-shirt. She watched him pour a cup of coffee and get a large glass of water. He sat at the opposite side of the table as she took a sip of coffee. "Can I get you breakfast?"

He shook his head. The headache had moved behind his eyes and he needed to get rid of it. He downed the water and sat quietly nursing his coffee. He refused to look at her, embarrassed about waking up with her and not remembering how they ended up in that situation.

She read his embarrassment but she wasn't sure why he was feeling that way. "Hey, talk to me."

He looked up. "You're, uh, not mad at me?"

She shook her head. "Why on earth would I be mad at you?"

He returned his gaze to the table, not knowing where to start. He had no idea why she was...His head jerked up when she rose from the table. She walked around to his chair and stood behind him. He started to turn. "What are you...?"

He stopped talking when she grabbed him and kept him from turning. She started to knead his shoulders, like she had the night before. Firmly, she worked the tense muscles at the base of his neck. He tipped his head forward. It had been such a long time since anyone, including Eames, had shown such tender concern for him. He felt his muscles begin to relax; the knots slowly untangled and it felt good. A soft groan escaped from him before he could give any thought to stopping it.

As she worked his shoulders, she watched his posture. He started out tense, but now he was beginning to relax. She wasn't sure where she was going with this. She just wanted him to not be miserable. She believed that his confusion about her was genuine, and she could not blame him. She had been sending him mixed signals for a long time, without even realizing she was. She had been running hot and cold for awhile now, but he made it so difficult to tell what he was going to respond to.

She leaned over his shoulder and asked, "Are you ready to come home?"

"Not quite," he replied. "I have a funeral to go to."

She pulled a chair closer and sat beside him. "Would you like me to stay and go with you?"

He studied her face, caught off-guard by her offer. "Yes," he admitted. "I would."

He surprised her. She waited for him to change his answer, but he didn't, and that thrilled her. She smiled and nodded. "Then I'll stay."

He looked away, not returning her smile. He knew she would stay if he asked her to, but he hadn't expected to ask her. He didn't know why she wasn't angry with him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about waking up with her. Part of him felt good about it, but another part of him didn't want to feel good about it, so he was conflicted. He got up from the table and went into the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

When he didn't come right out, Eames followed him. He was looking out the window over the sink. She stepped up to his side and touched his arm. He looked at her and she gave him a warm smile, nodding her head over her shoulder. "Let's go down to the beach and take a walk."

He took a drink of his coffee, then set the cup in the sink. He followed her from the house.

They walked together in silence on the hard-packed sand. "Tell me more about Ellie," she said, curious about the mysterious woman who had made such an impression on her private partner.

"What do you want to know? I didn't know her long, Eames."

"But she had an impact on you."

He nodded. "Yes, she did."

"Did you know her before you came up here?"

"No. I met her the first day I was here."

She wasn't sure how she felt about that. In just a few days, Ellie seemed to have gotten past Goren's defenses, something that had taken her years. She felt an uncomfortable pang of jealousy toward a woman she'd never met who'd died the day before...and that made her feel guilty, which made her angry. "So, how did this woman get to you in three days when I couldn't do that in three years?"

He looked at her, surprised. "What? Eames...you got to me a long time ago."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why do you think I didn't get along with Bishop? She wasn't you. I don't do well without you, at work or at home."

"It seems like you've been getting more and more distant, especially over the past couple of years."

He put his hands in his pockets and stared at the sand as they walked. "I was trying to protect you," he replied.

"Protect...me? From what?"

"From me. I...I was afraid of what would happen if I let you get any closer to me."

She decided to push. "Afraid of what would happen to who?"

"To both of us. I didn't want to risk losing you."

He had never been more open and honest with her, and she gave that some thought. She didn't notice when he stepped sideways, closer to her, until his arm brushed hers. She looked up at him and he leaned closer. "Why were you in bed with me this morning?"

She gave him an innocent smile. "You were just so comfortable."

"Was I?"

She didn't look away. He stopped and she turned to face him. His eyes darkened as he touched her arm with one hand and her cheek with the other. He slid his hand into her hair and pulled off the clip that kept her hair from being blown all over by the ocean breeze. Her hair fell out, past her shoulders, and the wind whipped it around, in her face and around her neck, as he watched, enchanted.

Battling the wind, she tried to push her hair back, out of her eyes, but it was not cooperating. Smiling, she turned to face the wind so her hair would feather out behind her and stay out of her face. He stepped around with an amused grin on his face. Playfully, she gave him a shove, then she turned and ran down the beach, hoping he would give chase. He did not disappoint her.

He chased her for a few hundred yards, letting her retain her lead briefly. By the time he caught her, she was laughing. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. He buried his face in the hair that gathered around her neck, drawing in a deep breath. His arms tightened when she wiggled against him and he groaned. His lips brushed her ear, her cheek. She shifted and he found her mouth. With one hand she stroked the back of his neck while she combed through his hair with the fingers of the other.

He pulled back slowly, looking into her face as he bit his lower lip. He always relied on her better judgment, and now was no different. "If you think this is a bad idea, say so and it never happened," he whispered, his voice strained.

"I think this is a very bad idea," she replied after a moment. "But I have never wanted anything more."

She leaned up and captured his mouth in another deep kiss. His arms tightened around her and his tongue gently probed her lips, which parted to allow him entry. It was only then that he relaxed completely and gave himself over to the kiss. To his relief, she did the same.

The church was filled with mourners, and Goren wasn't surprised. People loved Ellie; that was no surprise. What did surprise him was to find that he had loved her, too. He looked at the woman seated in the pew beside him, and Ellie's voice whispered in his head. You are afraid to love...Let her love you. Ellie had been right about so many things. She had seen right into the heart of him and nailed him to the wall. He reached over and covered Eames' hand with his. She looked up at him and he gave her a sad smile. She slid closer to him, releasing his hand in favor of taking his arm. He felt oddly comforted by the gesture. Ellie had been right. Letting Eames have her way hadn't been the catastrophe he'd predicted. Far from rejecting him, she had drawn him closer, and he felt more at peace than he ever had.

Up at the altar, Father Charles had begun to deliver the eulogy, and Goren allowed himself to get lost in his memories of the brief time he had spent with Ellie. There had been two things Ellie seemed determined to do. First, she wanted to draw him from his self-imposed exile and open his eyes to love. Secondly, she'd tried to restore his faith. She had succeeded in the first, but not the second. He didn't have it in him to embrace faith the way she had. Maybe, someday, he would, but not now.

After the funeral Mass, they went to the smaller graveside service. The formal eulogy done, Father Charles now spoke to the crowd in a comfortable, personable way. He wasn't eulogizing now; he was remembering. His memories were of a bright, shining woman who embued everything she saw with life and love. Father Charles looked around at the small crowd, his gray eyes resting on Goren as he said, "Everyone who met Ellie was a better person for the encounter. It was impossible not to be touched and changed by the love that shone from her soul."

Goren swallowed hard, but he met the priest's eyes without wavering. Father Charles barely inclined his head, and Goren knew the man had privileged information that he would take to his own grave. He closed his eyes and again heard Ellie whispering in his mind. I came to know what it means to be in love.

Eames somehow sensed his tension, looking up to see the familiar mask of grief on his face. She reached out and touched his hand. At his mother's funeral, he had dodged her every attempt to comfort him, but now, he seemed to welcome it. He closed his hand around hers and held it firmly.

The sun had long set. Goren reclined on the chaise lounge, listening to the crickets and cicadas compete for dominance of the night. The door to the house opened and closed, and Eames came up to him, holding out a beer. He gave her a sad smile and took the bottle with one hand, taking her hand in the other. Gently, he pulled her into his lap and drew her down against his chest. He leaned his head against hers and put his arms around her as she snuggled into him and made a soft noise of contentment. He kissed her temple. "Thank you," he murmured against her soft skin.

"What for?" she answered, a tiny shiver in her voice in response to his gentle tone.

His fingers caressed her back and she relaxed into him. He never thought he would know this kind of companionship, especially with Eames. But Ellie had been right. All he had to do was open the door a little and she took care of the rest. Instead of rejecting him, as he'd expected, she had embraced him, drawn him closer and let him know that she loved him--all without even saying it. He lifted her hair from her back and, moving his head, began kissing the nape of her neck. "Thank you--for everything. I don't think I ever said thank you."

She sighed. "Keep doing that and I'll be the one saying thank you."

Smiling, he continued to move his mouth and tongue over her skin. She trembled, thrilled by his attention. His other hand splayed over her stomach and she pressed into it. His mouth heated her skin and sent delightful shivers to the center of her body. "I love you," she said into his shoulder.

He stopped his exploration of her skin, caught off-guard by her confession. "Wh-what did you say?"

She shifted her weight and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "I said 'I love you'," she repeated with confidence.

"Oh." Her movement distracted him and he returned to his slow exploration with gentle kisses and a tender touch. "I love you, too, Eames."

She laughed, then squirmed a little when he found a ticklish spot just below her right breast. Her wiggling and laughing elicited a soft moan from him. She ran her thumb over his lower lip and quietly said, "If we're going to keep on going, I'd rather you didn't call me Eames."

He nodded, grabbing her thumb with his teeth and teasing it with his tongue. When he released it, he asked, "Do you still think this is a bad idea?"

She tipped her head back as he kissed her throat. "Uh-hm," she replied. "But don't you dare stop."

His tongue teased the hollow above her collarbone. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured.

She pulled back. "What?"

"Just following orders," he assured her, moving back in to follow the curve of her throat around to her ear. "After all, you're the senior partner."

She smiled, then trembled when he hit a sensitive spot. "A little to the left," she directed.

He obliged and she rewarded him with a shudder and a squirm. "Oh...do that again," he whispered.

She shifted her hips and he made a noise that was half-groan, half-growl as he buried his face in her neck. His fingers hit another ticklish spot, and she laughed and squirmed. When he realized what was happening, he didn't let up. Still laughing, she wiggled her way from his grasp and launched herself out of his lap. He scrambled up to pursue.

She hurried down the steps and ran toward the beach, with him just yards behind her and gaining. She reached the water's edge as he caught her. She knew she was in trouble when he had no trouble finding the same spot. Laughing and squirming, she turned in his arms. Her laughter faded as his mouth covered hers. She buried her hands in his hair as the ocean lapped at their feet. "I love you, Alex Eames," he murmured into her mouth.

She smiled as she went in for another taste of him. It was a start.

fin