His eyes follow the light, even though it's not going anywhere.
But it bears down on him, and after a while, it feels like it's moving.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…ten, nine, eight, seven…ten, nine, eight…
Soon, the room is spinning. He is well aware of the fact that he's flat on his back, but he can't help but feel as if he wants to be sick.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…
There isn't anything but silence, and there hasn't been for a while. His voice echoes when he finally breaks and starts to ask for water, but of course, it doesn't come.
Hold on, Bobby, this isn't gonna hurt. Just give me a minute, will you?
What the hell are you doing?
He would move, except for the fact that he can't. There is no clock. No way for him to know how long he's been there.
And there is no way to contact her.
Five, four, three, two…
If things weren't as uncertain as they are now, he probably wouldn't be scared. She told him it was a stupid idea, but he didn't want to listen.
There's nothing wrong with me.
Don't come back until you've seen psych services.
It used to be that they knew each other inside and out, but now he isn't sure anymore. She agreed to help him because they are partners, but beyond that, he doesn't know.
I should have told you about it.
Ten, nine, eight….
He could have taken the pills and gotten out of this, but no, he had to be stubborn. Had to find out what's going on in this place, because no one else wants to do anything about it.
Don't come back until you've seen psych services.
Bobby closes his eyes at this point, willing sleep to come. But he knows it's not going to, strapped down to this cold metal table where the lights are shining too brightly, and the silence is threatening to slowly drive me mad.
Darkness, the sound of a door slamming closed, rants about 'them' and the sound of something shattering, and then…
Nothing. Just like that.
Nothing.
When they take him to the isolation cell, he is relieved, but only for the moment.
In the cell, there is only more silence.
Why is it that silence is always awkward with anyone but you, Bobby?
I…ah….I don't know, Eames.
If he could have known how nerve-wracking silence could be, maybe he wouldn't have liked it so much.
Down the block and across the street, make sure you've got the bus pass and hurry, before you miss it…
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five….
He's wired, and that's the problem. He hasn't taken anything, hasn't had anything to drink, barely had anything to eat…
Peas. The peas…they way they're organized. Indicative of someone who's been institutionalized.
And later, an exasperated face and a halfway affectionate voice: You're a show off.
She knows what he is doing, and that is his comfort, the fact that she knows where he is and when he doesn't come back, she will come for him.
Maybe.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…ten, nine, eight, seven, six…
If this is what heaven's like, then maybe he doesn't want to end up there after all.
Her voice is the one thing keeping him sane, for the moment, or at least it was until this point.
What about now?
Now? Now it's too late.
He never did figure out what it was too late for.
I'm your partner.
Trust me.
He remembers sitting vigil beside her hospital bed after she rescued herself.
Stay with me, Bobby. Just…stay.
I'm not going anywhere. Captain's coming to see you tomorrow morning.
I don't wanna see Ross in the morning.
I meant Captain Deakins.
Oh.
It is the last thing he remembers before everything fades to black.
When he wakes up, he doesn't recognize where he is.
One of these days, he's gonna wake up in a mental institution.
But it's not an institution, and there's gonna be trouble with the brass when he's cleared to leave this place, and he knows there are other people there, but all he can see is her.
I'm an acquired taste.
And later, in a cop bar somewhere in between his place and headquarters: Yeah, well, I should have acquired it by now.
Don't leave…please. You're the only partner I've had that's stuck around for longer than a few weeks.
His eyes are following the lights again, trying to figure out where he is, even though he knows that he's not in 'Heaven' and he's not in Tate's and he's not where anyone can hurt him.
Her hand reaches for his and he takes hold, squeezing as hard as he dares, not wanting to hurt her.
"I'm right here, Bobby," she says, quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."