They returned to his apartment from the club. He kept his sunglasses on as he turned on the living room lights for her. She crossed to the corner and turned the lamp on low, then turned off the brighter lights. "That's all I need to see," she assured him. "Is that too much for you?"

He slipped off the glasses and shook his head. "It's okay."

"Better than it was?"

He smiled but there was a sad quality to it. "It's better," he assured her.

He watched her closely as she paced around the room. She'd been restless since they left the club, and he didn't understand why. "What's the matter?" he asked after she made a third trip to the kitchen.

"I just feel...tense and...embarrassed." She shook a finger at him. "The things you do to me, Goren... I didn't expect to crumble in that office like I did. I'm stronger than that. I never show weakness; I can't. My dad always told me to be brave and strong. 'Never let them see you sweat.' I didn't even cry when I buried Joe. Afterward, well, that was different, and I was alone. But Dad hasn't seen me shed a tear since I was a little girl, and he is proud of me for that. If he'd been in that club today..."

He watched her with concern. "He wasn't. It was just you and me, and I certainly don't think any less of you."

She stared forward, seeing the office once again in her mind as she had in the nightmares that had plagued her since the shooting. "All I could see was your blood on the floor, even though it wasn't there any more. I know it was there, and I know...I know how close I came to losing you forever. I-I wasn't sure I could handle that. Now-now I know that there is no way I ever could."

"You're much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Alex. Besides, I'm not going anywhere."

"Not right now, no. But you can't make that promise for the future, for tomorrow or next month or next year."

"No, I can't, but life is full of uncertainty. We just have to take what comes and deal with it the best way we can." He stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Leaning to the side, he looked into her face. "What exactly upset you?"

"Remembering," she whispered, glancing away from him.

This was something new in his experience. He'd never before meant so much to another person that his death or departure would have such a devastating impact on them. "If I died tomorrow," he said, speaking aloud the thoughts that were spinning about in his mind. "It wouldn't matter to anyone except you. Life wouldn't really change for anyone else, and I wouldn't be missed. But you, your feelings run deeper than that. I matter to you. That means a great deal to me, and I hope I never cause you that kind of pain again."

She offered him a small smile and touched his lips with her fingertips. "That makes two of us."

He teased her fingertips with his tongue. "The only part of it that I really don't get is...well, there are a lot of people who love you and a lot more who respect you. Most of them wonder how you can handle being partners with a crackpot like me. But you do handle me. Even more, you love me. That kind of sets you apart from the rest of the world."

"And you wonder how I cope?"

"Kind of."

She could not ignore the glow of desire she saw in his eyes. She knew it was a side effect of what Summer had done to him, the one side effect-aside from his accelerated healing and survivability-that she wished he would not lose. Moving suddenly, she caught him in a searing kiss. Surprised, he hesitated for a moment before responding to the heat of her passion. But as he relaxed against her, she withdrew a couple of inches and smiled. "That's how I cope," she whispered, her voice slightly raspy. "All I have to do is remember how much you love me, and the rest of it just naturally follows. It's the love that makes everything else so easy and worthwhile." She was silent for a moment. "That was the hardest, and easiest, part of my life after losing Joe, the remembering. I will always love him, but I will never forgive him for dying. Never put me in the same situation with you."

He pulled her into a hug and made the only promise he could make to her. "I'll do my best."

She rested her head on his chest and held him close for a long time. She found it much easier to calm down when she was in his arms. With great reluctance, she pulled herself from his embrace and walked over to the couch. She hated to move away from him, but they were not done talking. Sitting, she asked, "All right, then...how do we go about finding Ethan?"

"I'm not so sure we can find him if he doesn't want to be found. He's been under the radar for almost 200 years; he knows how to disappear."

"So Warren gets away with murder?"

He was quiet for a long time. "I don't think Warren is getting away with anything. We just won't be the ones who hand out his punishment."

"How does that sit with you?"

He walked across the room and sat down beside her. "I'm okay with it. Ethan and his people work very hard to remain in the shadows. Warren shined a spotlight on them. They aren't going to tolerate that. His punishment may be different from what we would give him, but I think their punishment will be appropriate and deserved. Not everyone has to go to prison for their crimes. I believe that what happened was accidental, and I trust Ethan's people to deal with it."

She paused before asking, "Why do you trust them?"

"If they didn't have a system of judgment in place, don't you think they would have popped up on our radar sooner than this?"

"What about the 27 cold cases that popped up on your radar?"

"We haven't investigated them. Some of them may be related to Ethan and his people, but I would wager that very few, if any, are. Do you want to pursue it, Alex?"

"Don't you?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out his breath slowly. "Okay, we'll pursue it."

"You don't agree," she accused, trying not to get annoyed.

He paused again, obviously reluctant to continue the conversation. The recent Tagman case still hung between them, and he felt sick to his stomach. Eames had strongly disagreed with him on that one, but he'd stood his ground. Not only had he made a connection with the lonely young man, he'd identified with him. There but for the Grace of God, go I. That saying certainly had meaning to him when he thought about John Tagman, and it shook him. He hadn't felt God's grace in his life in many years.

Finally, he drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily. He was good with words, but he didn't quite know how to explain himself. All he could do was try and hope for the best. "Justice comes in many forms. Do I want to solve every case? Of course I do. We have solved this case. The bean counters upstairs may not know it, but we have. We know it and Deakins will know it. Warren has been brought before his own people for justice. He will pay for his actions in a way that is meaningful to him. They don't recognize our court system as justice and putting him through it will serve no purpose. Regardless of his sentence, I don't think he'd ever serve a day in prison. He'd escape and he'd vanish, right down the rabbit hole, as you like to say. He'd become one of those fugitives we never find."

"Like Nicole Wallace?"

His expression and his manner changed. He rose from the couch and walked to the window. "Yeah," he answered. "Only Warren is different. I doubt he'll ever take another life."

When he withdrew from her, she regretted bringing up Nicole's name. The wounds she'd left were still open and raw. "So, what do you think we should do about those cold cases?" she asked, trying to draw him back.

"You're the senior partner. I'll do whatever you decide we should do."

He'd never played that 'senior partner' card with her before. "Don't you dare pull that crap on me," she warned. "I asked for your opinion because I want it, dammit."

He didn't turn from the window, and he didn't reply immediately. The light from the streetlights wasn't that bright, but it was enough to make his head begin to ache again. He remained where he was, squinting against the light as he looked down at the street. A couple walked by with their dog, holding hands, a normal thing for couples to do. Normal...nothing in his life had ever been normal, not even his relationship with Eames. He wasn't destined to live a normal life.

"Bobby?"

She brought his attention back to her. After clearing his throat, he said, "If we ever find Ethan, we can ask him about them. He'll be straight with us. I have a strong feeling that the council is fully accustomed to dealing with denizen-human interfaces that have gone wrong. It happens, I'm sure. Is it ever intentional? Maybe, but I think the council deals with those as well. Summer has been a denizen in this country for almost 400 years. The council has been in place here for at least that long. I'm sure its European counterpart has existed much longer. Warren will never be a problem for us again. Whatever his punishment will be, if Ethan was right and he did care for Amy, he'll be his own worst punishment."

"What about that whole live in the moment, no regret, no guilt lifestyle of theirs?"

"Warren was a recent convert. Maybe he hasn't yet adjusted to the live-in-the-moment concept. Besides, there are exceptions to every rule."

"Is that why you don't want to join them? Because you're afraid you'll be the exception and then you'll be stuck living an eternity with your guilt and regrets?"

"No. I already told you—I chose not to join them because I never want that day to come when I have to go on without you. I don't want to face the rest of eternity unless I can face it with you. Whatever else goes through my head, that's the bottom line."

"What else goes through your head?"

He shook his head slowly. "You never want to go there."

"What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing. I'm being honest with you. Any curiosity about their lifestyle I may have is secondary to my desire to be with you." He paused and then asked, "You aren't curious about them?"

"No, Bobby. Curiosity is your forte. I find that it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Please don't condemn me for my interest in the things I don't understand," he said.

She crossed the room and stepped up behind him, slipping her arms around his waist. "No. I will never do that. Your curiosity can be annoying, but I never want you to lose it. It's endearing...sometimes."

"Just sometimes?"

"Count your blessings, Goren."

He turned from the window, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "I do, Eames. Every day."

Eames wanted him to spend the weekend with her at her sister's house, visiting her nephew, but he declined. He had to go out to Carmel Ridge to visit his mother. She knew how trying a visit could be for him, and he had a feeling he wouldn't be in much of a mood to play with Nathan afterward. He had been right.

The nurses at Carmel Ridge would not let him leave until the bleeding had stopped. The blow to the side of his head made his headache much worse, but he successfully hid that from the concerned nurses. He was becoming used to the dull throb behind his eyes. What he would never get used to was his mother's unpredictable violence.

He dialed Eames' number as he started his car. There was laughter in her voice when she answered. He smiled. "I'm interrupting."

"Not at all. Nate's six months old. We laugh a lot. How was your visit?"

"It was...fine. I just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you."

"I miss you, too."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Alex."

"Sleep well, Bobby."

He closed the phone and dropped it onto the seat beside him. He looked at the building in which his mother lay, sleeping comfortably under sedation, unaware she had harmed her youngest son in more ways than a blow to the head. Pulling away from the facility, he drove back to Brooklyn.

It was dark when he parked down the block from his apartment, but he did not feel up to trolling around an empty apartment. He walked down the street and around the corner to one of the three bars in walking distance of his apartment.

He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the inner pocket of his jacket as he stepped into the dim interior of the bar. He sat down at the bar and ordered a scotch. He might be lonely that night, but he was going to sleep.

He drank until his headache finally faded, losing track of his thoughts and his consumption. He just wanted the pain to slide away, which it finally did. He stumbled a little as he left the bar and turned toward home. With his senses dulled by the alcohol, he didn't notice the man who stepped out of a nearby alley until it was too late. The man grabbed him and shoved him against a wall. "Your wallet! Now!" he growled.

Goren glared at him as his mind caught up with what was happening. Geez, Eames is going to kill me. His second thought was to pull out his badge which was very much the wrong thing to do. With a swear, the mugger pulled out a knife, thrust and withdrew. He ran off as Goren's knees gave way. Pressing his hand against his side, he felt blood gush through his fingers. A thought popped into his head, unbidden and from somewhere outside his own consciousness. He nodded agreement and struggled to his feet. Home. I need to get home.

He stumbled up the street toward his apartment.

The elevator doors opened, and Goren staggered into the hallway that led to his apartment, blood still oozing through his fingers. Darkness was encroaching at the edges of his vision. Hands grabbed him and guided him down the hall. Someone else's hand felt around in his pocket and he heard his keys jingle. Then he was guided forward again. The room spun and he felt himself falling, but he didn't have the energy to move and stop his fall. The couch broke his fall and someone at his side supported him in a sitting position; the darkness crept closer. "Drink," a voice encouraged him as a cup was pressed to his mouth.

He was barely responsive. "Drink!" the voice demanded.

As he slowly sipped the contents of the cup at his lips, other hands removed his shirt. The cup was taken away and he felt the hands ease him down onto the couch. Finally, the darkness came.