Alex sat at the desk in her hotel room after Hunt took her to dinner and then walked her to her room. She pulled out her journal and began to write.

December 11, 2010

Dear Bobby,

When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I would be going to sleep in a hotel room in Texas. Today has been an emotional roller coaster for me, from the time I answered the doorbell at lunchtime until now, as I prepare to turn in. Your buddy Hunt showed up at my door to tell me you had been injured in Venezuela and were in surgery in Houston. He flew all the way to New York to personally escort me to your hospital bedside. He's a nice guy, a lot like you in many ways. He bears his burdens heavily and takes his responsibilities seriously.

I learned that Derek and two other members of your team didn't make it home. That news saddened me. I was looking forward to meeting Derek, but even more, I hate to think how you will react when you hear the news. You have never coped with loss very well. It's not a character flaw as much as a testament to how deeply you feel emotion, even though you try to hide it. I hope you've learned by now not to try hiding it from me. If we are going to be closer, you will have to get used to sharing yourself with me.

You'll be spending the night in Intensive Care after being in surgery for three bullet wounds you received protecting other members of your team. I want to be mad at you for not being more careful, but I can't be. I can't ask you to change who you are and, even if you were willing, I don't think you could change that part of you. It's a fundamental part of who you are, something that has been reinforced all your adult life, and maybe even before that. Always take care of the other guy-the civilian, the innocent, your partner, your brother, your nephew, your mother. I get that. Don't change. Just be more careful.

As I stood there beside your hospital bed, one thing struck me right away. I have never seen you so still. I am so used to you moving-moving around the room, fiddling with this, poking at that, looking at the other thing, shifting your weight, moving. Just moving. Being still is an abnormal state for you, and I found it troubling. Hopefully, you'll wake up soon and be your normal, sweet, perpetually moving self again.

Have I mentioned that I've missed you? That was never more evident to me than when I first saw you this afternoon. God, how I've missed you. We have so much to talk about and so much lost time to make up for. I am anxious for tomorrow, when I'll get to see your beautiful eyes again and tell you myself that I have missed you...and that I love you.

Good night, Bobby.

Love,

Alex


When Alex and Hunt returned to Bobby's room early the next morning, someone else was already there, sitting by his bed. Alex bristled as Hunt said, "What are you doing here, Winchester?"

Aggie released Bobby's hand, stood and approached them. "I was up early so I came to see how he was doing. He had a quiet night, they said."

She gave Alex a sideways glance as Hunt said, "Alex, I probably should have warned you: members of the team are likely to come and go. We watch over our own. Don't let them bother you."

"No bother," she replied, giving Aggie a cold look.

Hunt touched Aggie's arm. "Come on, Aggie. I'll buy you breakfast. Can I bring you something, Alex?"

"Coffee would be nice."

"You got it."

Once the agents were gone, Alex approached the bed. The IV that had delivered blood to him was gone, leaving just one line. His color was better and he was resting easily. A nurse came into the room with a small IV bag. "Good morning."

Alex gave her a brief smile. "How is he doing?"

"Good. Are you another one of the agents?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm his..." What single word would describe the complicated relationship she had with him? Unable to find one, she concluded, "I have medical proxy for him."

"Oh—Ms. Eames. Well, we finished with the transfusions and his numbers look good. Right now we're just giving him a little fluid but nothing else except antibiotics and the anti-malarial medication he needs to take for a couple more weeks. We need him to wake up so we can evaluate his level of pain." She hung the bag and ran the line into his IV. "This is his antibiotic. We'll discontinue it in a couple of days, when he's ready to go home."

She left the room and Alex looked down at Bobby again, sliding her hand into his. In her mind, Mike's voice reminded her: He's a survivor. Yes, he was. She'd watched his world shake and crumble more than once, and he came out of it battle-scarred but intact, a stronger man for his trials.

She wasn't sure what to do, what the nature of their relationship was evolving into. It was all too new. So she didn't know what he would find appropriate in what setting. She wasn't even sure what she would deem appropriate. In spite of his imposing size, aggressive interrogation style and sometimes confrontational manner, Bobby was fundamentally shy, a contrast she found both amusing and endearing. He was especially shy about displays of affection, which had made his kiss on a busy Bay Ridge street that much more surprising to her.

Again, Mike's voice spoke to her, saying, He'll be okay. He'd said it as a measure of comfort, but she was now beginning to believe it. She continued to stand there, looking at his face, and she noticed his eyelids twitch. In her hand, his fingers twitched as well. His breathing changed and he groaned softly, a groan of pain.

She pressed the nurse call button as she watched him continue to waken. The nurse came into the room, and she said, "He's waking up, and he's in pain."

"I'll be right back."

Alex turned her attention back to Bobby, who shifted, seeking a position that didn't hurt so much. He coughed once, followed by a deeper groan of pain. His eyelids moved again, this time flickering open. Squinting against the light, he looked around the room and blinked a few times, trying to concentrate on the person by his bed and not the pain that seemed to be everywhere. Then she squeezed his hand and he realized her hand was nestled in his. She was familiar...very familiar... "Eames?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and hopeful.

She smiled at his reversion to using her last name. Old habits die hard. "Welcome home, Bobby," she replied, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat.

The nurse returned to the room, stepping up to the other side of the bed and touching his arm to get his attention. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," he answered, tightening his grip on Alex's hand, hoping she wasn't going to go anywhere before he could talk to her.

The nurse held up a syringe. "This will help settle the pain. Then you'll have a better idea of where it really is."

She injected half the contents of the syringe into his IV line and waited as he began to relax. He turned his attention back to Alex, squeezing her hand again now that his vision had cleared and he could see that it really was her. "Am I in New York?"

She shook her head. "No. We're in Houston. This is where they evacuated you to after the shootout in the jungle."

The nurse touched his arm again and he turned his head toward her, his expression curious. "Where does it hurt now?" she asked.

He closed his eyes to concentrate. When he didn't open them right away, she squeezed his arm. "Robert?"

His eyes opened slowly and he looked at her for a moment before he remembered her question. "Uhm, it, uh, my chest, and my back. That's where it hurts most."

She nodded, then gave him the remaining medication from the syringe. She gave Alex a smile. "He'll sleep soon. The doctor will be in to check him over and decide if he can be moved upstairs to the post-surgical floor."

"Thank you."

Alex turned her attention back to Bobby as the nurse left. She still held his hand. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"I'm okay now. Better with you here. But-why are you here, in Texas?"

"Because Hunsicker flew to New York to get me. He said it was the least he could do for you."

Bobby looked confused. "How did he find you? I never gave him your full name."

"Apparently, when you filled out your paperwork, you listed me as your medical proxy and next of kin. I think he figured it out from there."

"Oh. I forgot about that." His eyes perused her face, straying down as far as he could see, then back to her face. "I, uhm, I hope that was okay."

"It's fine. I've been your medical proxy for a long time. No need to change that."

"I had no one else to list as next of kin," he explained weakly, though he knew she was well aware he had no family left, except a nephew on the run from the law and distant relatives he didn't really know.

She nodded. "It's okay. Relax."

He looked her over again. "How have you been?"

His sleepy expression warmed her heart with memories and she lightly touched his cheek. "I've been fine," she answered, telling mostly the truth. She would wait until he was more alert for an in-depth talk.

He wanted to ask her more, but Hunt and Aggie came back into the room. Hunt smiled. "Well, look who's awake! How are you feeling, Bobby?"

"I've been better," he answered with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you have." He handed Alex a cup of coffee and a white wax lined bag. "I took a guess and got you a pastry."

"Thank you."

"Coffee with a little cream and a lot of sugar, and a cherry danish," Bobby said with a sleepy smile directed toward Alex, who smiled back and squeezed his hand. "Cherry's her favorite."

"I was close. I got lemon."

Bobby arched an eyebrow and shifted his gaze to Hunt. "How is lemon close to cherry?"

"It's a fruit, isn't it?"

As Bobby tried not to laugh, Aggie walked around to the other side of the bed. "You gave us a scare there, honey."

"Just doing my job," he said with a non-chalant shrug.

Hunt shook his head. "Nowhere in your agreement did it say you were to provide a target for the men we were after."

"I guess you could say that was my conscience rather than my duty," Bobby said, snugging his hand more firmly around Alex's. "Most of the other guys have families to go home to, kids to raise." He glanced toward the door expectantly, realizing someone was missing. "Where's Derek?"

Hunt and the two women exchanged looks, none of them anxious to give him the news about Derek. But Bobby recognized the looks and the silence that accompanied them, despite the fuzziness the medication caused in his head. "What happened?" he demanded, shifting a little higher in the bed.

Hunt locked eyes with Alex who reluctantly nodded. She turned her attention back to Bobby. "Bobby, Derek didn't make it home."

Bobby immediately looked at Hunt. "Wh-What happened?" he repeated with more insistence.

"I don't have details. He took a couple of bullets and was evacuated right away, but he died on the way, and so did Spencer. Bert survived a little longer, but he died in surgery. The rest of us sustained comparatively minor injuries, but no one escaped unscathed."

Bobby became very quiet, and Alex recognized his retreat into himself. She looked at Hunt. "Could you please excuse us?"

Hunt nodded. "Sure thing. We have a debriefing to attend. Once you get out of the hospital, we'll arrange your debriefing, Bobby. Come on, Aggie."

Aggie touched Bobby's shoulder, then followed Hunt from the room. Alex turned her full attention to Bobby, knowing she had to draw him out. She'd been through this before with him, helping him to manage his losses. Sitting on the edge of the bed, where the side rail ended, she squeezed his hand. "Tell me about Derek," she encouraged.

Slowly, he turned sad, tired eyes toward her. "Did...Did you get my letters?"

She recognized his stalling tactic; they'd been through this before. She went along with it for the moment, lightly stroking his hand with her thumb as she answered, "I did, and I savored every one."

"Savored?"

"Yes. Savored. Every word. It was all I had of you."

He gave her words some thought while she resented that grief should taint their reunion, wondering if the news of his fellow agents' deaths could have waited. Then again, she corrected herself, this was Bobby, a man impossible to put off. Reading body language, he would have known. No, telling him was the right thing to do.

She wanted to press him to talk about Derek and the other two agents who had died, knowing it was something he needed to do, but he was fighting to stay awake and losing the battle. With a soft sigh, she stroked his arm. "Sleep. We'll talk later."

He barely nodded his head before his eyes drifted closed and his grip on her hand relaxed. She slid off the bed, laid his hand on his abdomen and kissed his forehead. Then she sat down with the book she'd brought to wait for him to waken again.