A/N: This story is coming to a close soon enough. I loved writing it, but I can't string it along just for that sake. Anyways, this is obviously set before frame, since Nicole is still alive. And was anyone else pissed that they jumped into the next season without dealing with what happened to Bobby AT ALL? Man, talk about leaving you hanging.

//

The phone shrills, waking a sleepy Eames enough so that she grapples for it, knocks it to the floor, and swears sleepily. Beside her, Bobby grunts, but doesn't wake. It has been three weeks since he came home from the hospital. Three weeks of sleeping next to Bobby, inhaling his scent, making love tenderly, viciously, disspationately, angrily. Sure, she knows Bobby is a swill of emotional turmoil, but there have been times this past few weeks where they are fucking, and she is certain that he's not there. His body is, the familiar topography of his skin is the same, but his mind is floating in the ether. It's like making love in a void. And when she comes, she screams the same way, but his eyes penetrate hers and she sees him dazedly trying to remember where he is. It's frightening, but not worse than when he comes home from physical therapy--silent, furious, his deep, bruised eyes darting around the room, his hands balled up into fists. He lifts them, brings them down hard on his thighs. Useless. And Eames can only sit behind him, stroke his hair, and feel his whole body vibrate with anger and self-loathing. Sometimes she cries for him. On the whole he is coming together. His walking has improved, although he still stumbles, his mind crossing connections, neurons firing rapidly in the wrong section of his brain. When this happens he goes very still for a few moments, and then moves on. Step by step. And many nights he holds onto Eames tightly, his fingers tangled in her hair, lightly kissing her tears away, thanking God that he can finally hold her.

Once she gets a hold on the phone, the voice in her ear is startling, tinny, loud. It is Ross. She listens, and then goes ghostly white.

"Thank you, Captain," she says dully. As she turns around, she notices Bobby's eyes questioning her. He pulls her to him, her small body cradled against his broad chest.

"Is everything ok?" he asks, his lips a few inches from her ear, blowing warm breath that tickles her hair. She takes a deep breath.

"No, Bobby," she murmers, wanting to do anything else but tell him. Desperate to have this news erased, deleted from time. "They captured Nicole a few hours ago, at the same warehouse where you were…held. She's asking to speak with you. She…she says she saved your life and that you..you owe her."

Bobby's eyes go flat again. Oh, she hates that look, she hates when he distances himself. This coping mechanism he has, to blot out the world. He pulls away from her, rolls over, his back to her concerned face. She sees that he is shaking a little, but when she puts a hand on his shoulder to soothe him, she gets no reaction.

"When?" comes his muffled voice. "When do I go see her."

"Bobby," Eames says, "I don't think it's a good idea. What can you possibly gain by talking to that monster again?"
"How did you find me?" Bobby asks, a question which Eames had hoped would never be articulated again. She sighs, and sits up in the bed. Bobby still won't look at her.

"I found a..note. From Nicole." She bites this out, hating Nicole for still having power over her Bobby, for being able to mess with his mind. He should be shut of her. Forever. But she keeps after him. She's relentless. Eames shakes her head, trying to steady her voice. "The note had your location. She wanted you to be found."

No sound from Bobby for awhile, until…"She..she loves me. Did you know that?"

"I…got that impression," Eames says slowly. "But Bobby, it's a venemous love. You said it yourself. She kills the ones she loves. She's a black widow. She can't help herself. She's a psychcopath, she— "

"She saved my life," Bobby cuts her off. "I DO owe her. At least one last meeting. To set things straight."

"Bobby, you can't really believe—"

"It's not open for discussion," Bobby says, and slides out of bed to take his morning shower.

//

Sorry for the short chapter, but the meeting with Nicole, and the aftermath, will be a long uphill climb, writing-wise.