Alex crawled into bed, feeling warm and confident for the first time in a long time. She pulled out her journal and settled against the pillows. Opening the book, she wrote,

December 12, 2010

Dear Bobby,

My second day in Texas and your second day back in the States, the second day since your surgery. I really don't know the words to express how relieved and happy I was when you woke up. Maybe you can find them; you're a lot better with words than I am. I just know that I felt a huge weight lift from my heart. I was glad they got you up and moving. Every step brings you that much closer to discharge, that much closer to home. You know that I regret that you were injured, but I have to admit, especially since your injuries aren't severe, a very small part of me is secretly glad it happened. Hear me out—I have a good reason. At least, I think it's a good reason. They say they're going to send you home in a few days, to recuperate at home, I imagine. To my mind, that means you may need someone to give you a hand, at least from time to time, maybe more? I think I'll volunteer for that position, if you think you can handle having me invade your space. I realize that your home is your sanctuary, and I have tried to respect that over the years, so unless you plan to recover at my house, you may just have to put up with having me in your hideaway from the world, at least part of the time.

I had the chance to meet your friend Aggie today. I'm not sure what to make of her. I realize you have shared something with your team that I will probably never fully understand, something akin to combat, so I'm trying really hard not to resent her. But when I came into your room this morning to find her sitting there holding your hand, well, I just didn't like it. I suppose I'll feel better once she leaves to return home tomorrow.

Before I say good night and close this journal for the night, I should tell you about my favorite part of the day. Although I was thrilled when you woke up, that moment was eclipsed when I said good night to you—because you said you loved me.

Love,

Alex

Closing the journal, she set it aside and turned off the light.

Alex woke with a start to the sound of the phone ringing. Fumbling for it, she lifted the receiver. "Hello?" she answered groggily.

"Ms. Eames, my name is Carol. I'm the night nurse who has been caring for Robert."

She sat up, fully awake. "Is he okay?"

"He is, but he's having a bad night. He's agitated and he keeps asking for you. I hate to trouble you, but rather than sedate him..."

"No, don't sedate him. It's no trouble. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She almost called a cab, but then she had a better idea and dialed Hunt's room.

Alex approached the nurses' station with Hunt right behind her. "I'm looking for Carol," she told the nurse at the desk, whose name tag read 'Wendy'.

"She's in with a patient right now. May I help you?"

"We're here about Robert Goren."

"Oh." She looked down at a clipboard. "Ms. Eames. Go on down to his room. Carol's in there."

"Thank you."

With a hurried step, Alex went down the hall and into Bobby's room with Hunt following. The nurse looked at them from where she stood beside the bed and motioned Alex forward. Hunt walked over to the window and leaned on the sill. Alex stopped beside the head of the bed and slipped her hand into his. Carol said, "I've tried to stay in here as much as possible, since I only have two other patients. He's been very restless, and nothing I do seems to help settle him."

From the window, Hunt said, "He has a lot of sleepless nights."

Alex nodded agreement. "He has a lot of demons that haunt him."

"Most cops do," Hunt agreed.

Wasn't that the truth? But Alex knew that Bobby's demons were born from more than just the job. His mother's illness, his father's abuse, his brother's addictions and then his murder, his paternity, Gage's betrayal...his past provided fertile ground for his nightmares.

Bobby began to toss restlessly, accompanied by a soft groan. Alex looked at the nurse. "He's in pain," she insisted. "What have you been doing for that?"

"He's still getting medication, but we cut back on the dose at his request."

"Is he due for another dose?"

"Yes."

Alex nodded. "Give him a full dose."

Carol looked relieved. "Gladly," she answered, making it clear she hadn't approved of his request to lower his dosage.

Alex turned her attention back to Bobby, smoothing her hand over his forehead and hair. He tossed some more and muttered her name, growing more restless. With infinite tenderness, she continued to caress his forehead, and she softly spoke his name.

Gradually, he worked his way to consciousness, opening his eyes as the nurse came back into the room. He focused his gaze on Alex, paying no attention to the nurse as she injected the contents of the syringe she held into his IV line. "Eames," he murmured softly, working his way back from a panic. "You-You're still here. You're okay."

"Of course I am. Where else would I be and why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I—I..." He began to relax, only part of it voluntary. "It must have been a dream. Thank God...it was a dream."

He reached out to her, needing to touch her, and she grasped his hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. "I just went to the hotel to sleep. I'm not going anywhere else." When that seemed to reassure him, she said, "Tell me about your dream."

He tried to stifle a yawn. "You...were missing. I-I couldn't find you anywhere, no matter how hard I looked." He began getting agitated again. "You were slipping away through my fingers, and I couldn't hold onto you. I...I lost you...I'm so sorry...inadequate..."

She touched his chin. "It's okay. Shhh. Don't apologize, Bobby. You have never been inadequate. Everything is all right. It was only a dream."

He was mingling reality with memories of her kidnapping, and she wasn't sure why. Her kidnapping had been four years ago. She thought they had finally moved on, past the trauma Jo Gage had caused them both and on to new trauma caused by Jo's father. Why this was surfacing now...?

His greatest fear. Bobby had few fears, but his greatest fear was losing her. She tightened her grip on his hand. "I won't go anywhere, I promise."

She watched the medicine take a firm hold. He didn't have the stamina to fight it. "Eames," he murmured sleepily. Then he shook his head and corrected himself. "Alex..."

With a tender smile, she answered, "I'm here."

His eyes closed most of the way. "Stay..." he whispered.

His hand slowly relaxed around hers as he closed his eyes. "I'll stay," she whispered back.

She nodded at the nurse. "He'll be fine now. Thank you for calling me."

"Thank you for coming right over. Let me know if you need anything."

She left the room, and Alex turned her attention to Hunt. "He wouldn't want you to see him like that."

"Like what?" Hunt answered, understanding completely. Bobby was a man like himself, a man who rarely showed weakness to the outside world.

Alex smiled. "I'm glad he was on your team," she said honestly.

Hunt returned her smile. "So am I. He was willing to sacrifice himself for the team, though I'm glad it never came to that. Is it safe to assume you're staying here for the rest of the night?"

With a nod, she answered, "I gave him my word."

He was silent for a few minutes as he regarded her. "You know, when we were out in the jungle, I didn't understand him, the way he chose to deal with the strain of being in the field, away from home indefinitely—and what he refused to do to deal with it. Aggie offered him a no-strings-attached, what-goes-on-in-the-field-stays-in-the-field chance with her, and he turned her down every time. I don't know any bachelor who would refuse that opportunity, until I met him, that is. He and I had a talk one night over a few drinks. Well, maybe a few too many drinks, but he told me the bottom line of his relationship with you. After meeting you and seeing him with you, now I understand completely."

"The bottom line?"

Hunt looked at Bobby before softly answering, "He loves you."

Bobby had told her that, twice, but hearing that he had confided in an uninvolved third party, and had not sworn Hunt to secrecy, made it that much more real. Bobby was not one to confide in others, not even her at times. He was a man who bore his burdens in silence, unless some circumstance necessitated making them public, usually something that involved getting a suspect's confession. The extenuating circumstance this time was his mission in the jungle. If he had any doubts about returning home alive, telling Hunt how he felt would ensure that Alex would be told, that she would know unequivocally how he felt about her. "Thank you for telling me, Hunt."

"You did know that, didn't you? I mean, he said this turn in your relationship was a new one."

A smile touched her mouth as she looked down at Bobby, who was finally resting comfortably. She stroked his forehead. "Yes. I knew."

Hunt stepped away from the window. "I guess I'll head back to the hotel then. I'll see you in the morning, my dear."

"Good night, Hunt."

Once Hunt was gone, she watched Bobby sleep. His face was relaxed, and he looked younger than his 49 years. She was uncertain about how to deal with him, not knowing how he would respond to her. She'd wanted very much to lean down and kiss away his fears and anxiety, but with other people in the room, she was reluctant to share any form of intimacy with him. They were both very private people. Although Bobby was prone to show emotion more readily than she was, he kept his most intimate feelings deeply buried.

Her thoughts wandered as she tried to imagine the course a relationship with him would take. They already had the foundation of a decade's friendship to build on, but it was going to take some getting used to, seeing and treating him as more than a partner, more than a friend. No longer partners, or even co-workers within the same agency, they were certainly free to pursue a personal relationship with one another without the risk of censure. Yet, they had always kept each other at arms' length, and she wondered how difficult it would be to move past that.

With a sigh, she decided time would tell. She turned off the light and settled down in the most comfortable chair in the room.