Chapter 3

"What do you mean you can't find him?" Eames asked in frustration. She slept a few hours at the hotel and arrived back by 8:00 a.m. to find that Bobby had disappeared from his room. Apparently, Nurse Carmen was making her morning rounds and noticed his bed empty. Despite what Eames requested, they did not call her cell phone.

She floundered with some paperwork, "I'm sorry ma'am, we…"

"I had specifically requested I be notified if he woke or there was any problem. He has..."

"What's going on?" Ross noticed Eames irritation when he walked in the hospital.

"He's missing; Bobby's missing," Eames replied loudly with even more aggravation. She turned back to the nurse's station.

"What? How did this happen, nurse?" Ross directed a penetrating glare at her. Eames cringed recalling that look was usually reserved for Bobby.

The nurse flinched, "sir, I just got on the floor. We are doing our best to…"

Nurse Carmen frantically ran up to the station and grabbed a card key, "we found him! He's on the third floor in the utility closet near the cafeteria. We need some help; Roscoe tried to help him but he went crazy." She gestured to Ross and Eames to follow her. "I'm really sorry," she implored to Eames, "Nurse Owen said his fever broke early this morning; she checked him at six. We would have called but I didn't know he was missing until about 15 minutes ago."

So, he could have been missing for a couple hours at the most, Eames thought as she nodded; it wasn't very comforting. They rode the elevator to the third floor. As soon as they arrived they met Roscoe. He was a large, middle aged black man in a blue orderly's shirt and white pants. He addressed Eames, "I'm sorry; I tried to get him into a wheel chair but he just wants to stay in the corner. He's bleeding and his skin is really hot. He said something about taking his pills and was sick," he rolled the chair forward.

"Thanks," she said sincerely. Nurse Carmen opened the door and Eames entered the large supply closet. The sour smell of vomit permeated the air. The closet wasn't really a closet but a tiny L-shaped room with no windows. Several years ago it was a storage room for patient files; it was converted to a utility closet after a new cancer wing was added to the hospital in 1996. "Bobby?" she asked softly. She found him wedged into the farthest and darkest corner; knees drawn tight to his chest, head buried in his thighs and hands clasped behind his neck. For a large man, she had never seen him look so small. She walked slowly into the room, side stepped some vomit, and lightly gripped his upper arm. He startled violently and buried further into himself, "Bobby? Hey, c'mon, what happened?" Roscoe was right, his skin was very hot. He was only wearing his hospital gown and robe, no socks or shoes. He was feverish and his left arm was bleeding where the IV was dislodged.

"No, no, no…I don't want to go back," he uttered; shivering frighteningly. She didn't know what to do; she had never seen him this sick.

"Bobby? It's Eames…" she touched his shoulder.

He slowly lifted his head from his arms, "Eames? I threw up," he said indicating the mess on his gown and the floor. His hair was mussed and matted with sweat; his eyes were bright. "I had a really bad dream."

He was sleeping soundly when she left the night before. In less than six hours he was violently sick and hiding in a closet two floors up from his room. She crouched down to the floor and touched his forehead, "That must have been some dream."

He looked around surreptitiously, leaned to her and whispered, "I don't like it here."

"I know. Bobby, I know. We want to help you but you have to let us. We need to get you back to your room." She reached out and tentatively touched his hand. "Why don't you let us help you back so you can get better; you're really sick."

His body began to tremble violently and he resumed his original position; trying to cover himself for protection. "N-n-n-no, it's a trick; please don't make me go. I'll take my pills; I'll be good," he shuddered and began rock imperceptibly.

Oh my God, he still thinks he's going back to 'heaven'. She gently grabbed his forearms in an attempt to pull is arms away from his head. She sighed, "Stop…Bobby; look at me. Can you see me?"

He lowered his arms and nodded slowly, "what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here; they will get you too." Ross chose that moment to step into the room to assist Eames. Bobby was horribly confused and regarded him with trepidation, "sir?"

"Goren, you're not at Tates; we want to help you," Ross said, squatting in front of him but keeping his distance; attempting to be as non-threatening as possible.

Eames held his head between her hands; redirecting his gaze. "You're at the hospital; not at Tates. I promise I won't leave. You're safe with us. We won't let them take you back to 'heaven' but you need to get back to your hospital room and get cleaned up." She looked at him imploringly and caressed his cheek with her thumb. "I'll stay with you. How does that sound?" She really didn't know what else to say and she hoped Bobby would comply with her request.

Bobby bit his lip and furrowed his brow in deep thought; his body slowly uncurled, "ok." He placed both hands to the floor and attempted to lift his body. His right hand slipped and his bum hit the hard concrete floor.

Ross walked around to Bobby's left and slung his arm across his shoulders and helped him to stand, "c'mon, big guy," he flinched but accepted the help. Eames pushed the wheel chair forward and Ross helped Bobby sit; both sighed with relief. Nurse Carmen grabbed a blanket off the shelf and covered Bobby. He shivered uncontrollably.

TBC...

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews; they are very encouraging.