A/N:Sorry this update has been so long in coming. I was stuck. I also want the folks in the path of the hurricane to know that I am thinking of them. Stay safe.


Eames stood by the window in Goren's ICU room, looking out into the swirling storm that held the city firmly in its grip. It had been snowing for two days now and the streets were covered with a thick, white blanket of insulating snow. She found herself wishing she could share the storm with Goren; they both loved the cold and the snow. Snow was refreshing: clean, white, pure. Cold was invigorating: crisp and sharp. As she watched the snow whipping about the street in the wind, she could feel a similar maelstrom built up within her, raging about her heart.

She shot her partner. She had not meant to shoot him, but that did not alter the fact that she had. Two bullets had penetrated his chest. Two bullets had been removed from his body. One of them was hers. She found herself unable to move past that horrifying fact, and the grief and guilt ate at her like a cancer. No matter how many times she whispered an apology to him, she felt no relief. This was something she found herself utterly unable to move past. In order for her to come to terms with her emotions, she knew that she would need his help. If he died...no! That was an option she refused to accept and she'd told him as much. She was the senior partner, and she was not going to allow him to give up. He had to continue fighting; he had to recover.

Until IAB finished investigating the shooting, she was not cleared for duty. Bitterly, Logan had commented they might give her a medal, knowing Goren was a pariah in the department, as much an outcast as he was, maybe more. Being a maverick himself, he was able to make that bitter joke, but it did not spare him her wrath. He hadn't been back. So she sat alone beside Goren's bed. There was no one else, no one else who cared if he lived or died. But she cared because he was her partner. She cared because he needed someone to care and he had no one else. She cared because she loved him.

Turning from the window, she approached the bed and looked up at the monitor that displayed his heart's rhythm, placing her palm flat on his chest to feel the throb of that beating heart. With a mixture of resentment and gratitude, she looked at the respirator beside his bed. She knew it helped him to breathe, but she hated that he needed it. She was assaulted with so many conflicted emotions lately, and she was tired of how unsettled she was. All she wanted was for Goren to turn the corner and recover. She could forgive him for getting shot, even for drawing Eddie's attention away from her to protect her. But she was having trouble forgiving herself for the role she played, deliberate or not. She couldn't help feeling responsible. This was all her fault.

Each night, with reluctance, she left intensive care and drove to Brooklyn, an easier, safer commute in the snowy weather. His apartment was closer in distance to the hospital and, nestled beneath the blankets in his bed, she felt closer to him. Surrounded by the scent of him, she could feel his warmth around her. She was comforted by that, even if she still suffered insufficient, restless sleep. In the morning, she drove back to the hospital to sit beside his bed again and struggle with the fact that two cops' bullets left him struggling for his life, and one of them had been hers.

On the third morning, the storm broke shortly before the sun rose above the horizon, and she made her way back to the hospital before daylight. After she managed a light breakfast of orange juice and a buttered roll, which sat in her gut like a lump of molten rock, Ross showed up. She resented the intrusion but tried not to let it show.

Ross looked around the room, uncomfortable for a number of reasons. He hated hospitals with a passion. That hadn't always been the case. He'd once considered hospitals a necessary adjunct to his chosen career and he felt mostly indifference toward them. Then, he advanced into a position of authority, responsible for the lives of the men and women under his command. Since that promotion to the command level, he had spent far too many hours in hospital emergency rooms and waiting areas. What he dreaded most were the times that followed when he had to visit a fallen officer's family with the inadequate words "I'm sorry."

His eyes came to rest on the man in the bed, and he felt even more ill at ease. There was no family to talk to if this officer didn't make it. The only one for him to offer his condolences to was already sitting at his bedside. Recalling the conflict that seemed to identify his relationship with Goren, he made an odd discovery. He relished that conflict. As long as Goren was fighting, as long as there was fire in the man's disposition, Ross knew that he was all right. He didn't want Goren to be passive or submissive. He relished the challenges of dealing with a temperamental genius. If nothing else, Goren kept him guessing. As long as he was around, Ross knew his job would never be boring.

He grabbed a chair and slid it closer to Eames, lowering himself into it as he leaned closer to her and spoke softly. "How is he?"

"Stable. Their prognosis is guarded."

"How are you?"

That was a much more difficult question to answer and he knew it by the way she hesitated. Her gaze left him and returned to her partner before she said, "His blood is on my hands. How do you think I am?"

Her answer did not surprise him. These partners were close and they always assumed responsibility for each other's welfare. "Eames, this is not your fault. It was an accident of physics..."

"Please, captain. Don't make excuses for me. I accept my responsibility in this."

"Responsibility and guilt are very different things." She didn't respond, but he knew from the rigid set of her back that she would dig in about this. He sighed, knowing he had to let it go for now. He didn't want an argument, so he changed the subject. "Has internal affairs caught up with you yet?"

"No. Not yet. Why?"

"They talked to Logan late yesterday. I wanted to warn you."

"They're trying to pin this on me," she said with certainty.

"No," he answered. "They are trying to find a way to pin it on your partner."

She turned in her chair to stare at him in disbelief. "What? You can't be serious."

"His stability is still in question, and yours is not."

She saw genuine distress in his green eyes. Her voice shook with rage. "I've been his partner for eight years, and he has never used his weapon against a suspect. He treats victims with sensitivity and respect, even the dead ones. He's gentle with the children and they respond to him. What part of any of that is unstable?"

"You don't have to convince me, Eames. You have to convince internal affairs."

Her eyes hardened. "I will."

"One more thing. Have you ever known him to have a death wish?"

She hesitated, not because the answer was yes, but because it wasn't. "He doesn't have a death wish," she assured him. "But he doesn't consider his life before the lives of others. That makes him a damn good, effective cop."

Ross nodded in agreement and shifted tactics to give one more try to convincing her she was not at fault for her partner's condition. "Eames, do you think Goren will blame you for what happened?"

She shook her head. "I know he won't. He wouldn't blame me if I walked up to him and pulled the trigger, point blank. He'd look to himself for what he'd done to make me do that. I'm not worried about being blamed. I'm worried about losing him and I know I contributed to what happened. That makes me partially responsible for the outcome."

He couldn't argue with her logic but he did not agree with her reasoning. He sighed. "I wanted to stop by to see how he is doing and to give you a heads up about IAB, so their questions won't catch you off-guard." He looked toward the bed and added, "And so you will know not to let them do their questioning here."

"That was considerate, captain. Thank you."

He nodded, mouth tight as he looked once more toward the bed. Rising, he left the room. Eames looked at her partner. "They have no idea what they're talking about. I'll set them straight, don't worry. You just get better."

Still, there was no response from her partner.