A/N: Two pieces of music for this chapter: Okay, as much as I HATE Philip Glass (with a passion! Let there be no mistake!), I have to say that I've fallen in love with the soundtrack to The Illusionist (He's owed me one ever since I was forced to play one of his God-awful Adagios…), so this chapter's thematic music is "The Chase" from The Illusionist. The second piece of music- the one that Eames is playing through the stereo- is John Tavener's The Protecting Veil as played by Yo-Yo Ma and the Baltimore Symphony.
Two months later…
Bobby lay in bed, his cheek pressed against the pillow, and a quiet snore escaping his lips.
He snorted and opened his eyes. The other side of the bed was empty, and he immediately sat up and scanned the room for his partner. The bathroom light wasn't on, so she wasn't in the bathroom. He got out of bed and went into the hallway. "Eames?" he called out. Nothing.
Alex gave one final push at the screwdriver and the door gave. She fell forward, catching herself before taking a nosedive into the concrete of the roof of OnePP.
She surveyed the roof before her and smiled. This will do just fine. She put a crumpled up piece of paper in the latch and went back down the stairs to the 11th floor. She gathered her things: A small stereo, a CD, a string of Christmas lights, and an extension cord.
She made her way back up the stairwell and back onto the roof. She checked her watch. It was 2:00 am. Perfect. Ever since the shooting, Bobby woke up every night at 2:00 without fail, and without prompting or an alarm clock, to double check that she was still there. Part of her healing process was dismissing this protective behavior, but tonight, she relied on it. 2:05. She flipped open her cell phone and called Bobby…
A small amount of worry coursed through his heart to the pit of his stomach. He was walking back down the hallway when he heard his cell phone ring. He sprinted back into the bedroom and jerked it off the nightstand.
"Goren."
"Hey Bobby," said a familiar voice.
"Eames! What are you doing? Where are you?" he asked, calming himself. "You had me worried."
"I have a surprise for you," she said enticingly.
"Eames; now is not the time. Where are you?"
"I'm at work," she stated. "Come on. I have a surprise for you."
He sighed. "Alright. I'll be there in a few."
He snapped his phone shut, pulled on some pants and a t-shirt, grabbed his keys and coat, and left the apartment.
Twenty minutes later he stepped off the subway and crossed the street. He scanned his after-hours access card and stepped inside OnePP, mindlessly beat the path to the elevator, up to the 11th floor, and then to his desk, where he found a slip of paper. "Go to the roof. Stairwell B is open…"
He shook his head with an exasperated smile and headed towards the stairwell.
When he finally stepped through the door and onto the roof, he heard music.
"What's this?" he asked, as Eames stepped into view.
"Yo-Yo Ma," she said with a slick smile while handing him a bottle of beer. "Piano Concertos make you want to clean…I needed something else."
A lonely note pierced the air as a cluster of notes surrounded it. It was as if the high-pitched cello solo were a baby and the rest of the orchestra were wrapping it in a blanket in case its fragile line were to somehow break. The Virgin Mary was floating in the air above them and all around were people with their hands held up to catch her if she fell. But it didn't. The line never broke as it wafted higher and higher, then back down again, then louder, then softer- as if floating in mist.
Bobby looked around and could not find the source of the music. "I've hidden it," she said in that all-knowing tone. "Don't even bother."
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tight to shield her against the soft wind that was blowing. They looked out over the city. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, leaning into him.
"Not as beautiful as you," he said, kissing her forehead. She smiled and looked up at him. "I can't believe I almost lost you," he said quietly.
"But you didn't," she responded, turning to face him. She set her beer on the ledge of the roof and did the same with Bobby's. She took his hand and placed it on her hip, took the other one in hers and began to rock side to side. They shuffled side to side on the roof, the lights of New York City shimmering behind them, the cool night air wrapping around them and pulling them closer.
Bobby leaned into her shoulder, savoring the sensation of holding her while he glanced at the City behind them. Looking out on it and for once not seeing a city full of crime, not seeing a giant puzzle waiting to be solved, not seeing the place he had almost lost her in…
Then, the melody broke its sereneness and was replaced with force. It was still the same high lingering notes, but it was no longer delicate. The orchestra was now edging it on. Leave the nest. Go… The lights began to fade, the music came in and out of prevalence, and everything became fuzzy. The feeling of Alex's coat slipped through his fingers, and he felt dizzy. The light faded completely and he was lost in limbo…
He opened his eyes and realized that tears were leaking down his face and onto the pillow. The other side of his bed was empty; the clock read 2am; his cell phone lay untouched on the nightstand; and a picture of him and his former partner- a picture of the way things used to be- stood on his dresser next to a battered copy of the funeral announcement…
fin.
