Goren hit the man full force in the midsection and they both went down. He gave no thought to the knife he'd seen briefly raised above the man's head, but he'd recognized the wild, unfocused look on his face. He felt a burning pain in his side as they hit the ground with a jarring force that knocked him clear of the body beneath him. He heard the other man's head hit the ground hard just moments before he hit the pavement beside him and his own head struck the ground. He rolled once and lay still, everything around him fading to black.
The crime scene became a flurry of activity as men scrambled to search the shadows for anyone else who might be laying in wait. Someone made the call for an ambulance, and the words officer down made the bottom fall out of Eames' gut. She dropped to her knees at her partner's side, pushing open his coat and jacket to search for injuries as another officer searched the man he'd taken down. The uniformed officer shook his head as he looked at her. "Idiot buried the knife in his own thigh. How's your partner?"
His blue shirt was saturated in blood. "He got him." She pressed both hands against the knife wound. "I don't know how serious it is but he's bleeding pretty heavily."
"Hang in there, Eames," one of the CSU techs called to her. "Ambulance is three minutes out."
It never ceased to amaze her how three minutes could seem like every second of three hours. All she could do was keep pressure against his side and watch his blood spill over her fingers. "Come on, Bobby," she whispered. "Stay with me, please."
The emergency room at NYU Medical Center was as busy as it always was. They let Eames back into the ER proper, but she had to wait outside the trauma room as they worked on her partner. They brought her word about the man who had tried to attack her. He was being transferred to the prison ward at Bellevue for observation as he came down from whatever high he'd been on. They would have to wait for the toxicology screen to come back before they knew for certain, but it was clear to everyone who'd seen him that he'd been on something. Whether it was a random attack or not, and whether he was the one responsible for the murder, remained to be seen. He would be accused or acquitted based on the forensic evidence the crime scene unit gathered. Unfortunately, she and Goren had not had much time to investigate, though she wondered if the few minutes he'd spent with the body had told him anything. It was impossible to predict what he could garner from a crime scene.
Finally, the trauma room door opened and a doctor emerged. "Are you waiting for Detective Goren?"
She nodded. "I'm his partner."
"And you have medical proxy for him?"
"I do. I'm his wife."
He looked surprised for a moment before he continued speaking. "He's going to be fine. It wasn't a bad injury, although he does have a concussion. There's no reason for us to keep him. His wound has been sutured and dressed, and he's awake. Watch him for signs of concussion—difficulty being roused, irritability, vision impairment...anything that strikes you as abnormal. Try to get him to take it easy, at least through the weekend."
That was easier said than done, although, if she enlisted Maggie's help, together they might have a chance at success. "I'll do my best, doctor. Thank you."
She went into the room, where Goren was handing a clipboard back to a nurse. He grinned at her. "Hey."
"How do you feel?"
"Sore, and my head hurts, but I'm okay. Are you?"
"Perfectly. Just worried about you."
"My, uh, my shirt isn't wearable," he said, indicating the blue scrub shirt he wore. "How'd the rest of my clothes make out?"
"Not much better. There's a lot of blood on your suit jacket. Your coat isn't as bad. It can probably be cleaned, but your suit is a write-off. Are you ready to leave?"
He nodded, sliding off the stretcher with a wince. He leaned back against it for a moment with his eyes closed. When her hand came to rest on his arm, he opened his eyes and looked at her. When he spoke, it was to deflect attention away from himself. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, his eyes darting nervously from her face to her stomach and back.
She nodded, her hand resting over the swell of her stomach. "We're fine."
He laid his hand over hers, leaning over to catch her eyes. He could read her well, too well sometimes. "Then what's bothering you?"
She was quiet for a moment, turning her eyes away from his. "You scared me," she said softly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that. But..." He trailed off with a sigh. "Never mind. Let's get out of here."
She gave him no argument. They were halfway to her father's house before she asked, "What were you going to say, Bobby?"
Roused from his thoughts he looked at her. "About what?"
"When you apologized for scaring me...you said 'but' and then blew it off. I'd like to know what you were excluding."
He shook his head. "Nothing. I just...I am sorry for causing you any grief, but I won't apologize for protecting you...even if you don't think you need protecting."
"I gave up a long time ago asking you not to protect me."
"It still irritates you, though."
"Sometimes. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can. But sometimes..." He trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words to explain himself. "I'm your partner, and the most important part of my job is to back you up. For the past two years, I've also been your husband. That makes it even more my responsibility to watch out for you. I...I like being able to take care of you. It makes me feel...needed."
"So you have to get stabbed in order to feel needed?"
He laughed softly. "N-no. But if he'd gotten to you...Alex, he could have seriously hurt you and the baby both. I...I couldn't let that happen. But I didn't intend to get stabbed, either."
"I know you, Goren. You didn't give a thought to anything past me being in danger, did you?"
A fleeting smile touched his mouth, but he didn't reply. He leaned back in his seat and looked out the window. She didn't press it. As she drove into the night, his mind wandered.
The FBI was convinced there was some kind of threat to him? What could that possibly mean? Then he got to wondering if the Wallace shooting had anything to do with it. Was it possible that he had been the target after all and not Wallace? Was that why Gordy took the blame with him, to deflect his suspicions from what had really gone down? Every time he turned around, he got more questions than answers and he was tired of it. It was time for answers, and he was going to get them.
"Bobby?"
He shifted his eyes toward her. "Hm?"
"Welcome back. I called your name three times."
"Did you? Sorry. I was thinking."
"Obviously. What were you thinking about?"
He sighed softly and rubbed his left temple. "I...I'm tired of having more questions than answers. I need to know what this threat is...how far-reaching...and exactly who's at risk."
"We are not sending the kids back to Maine."
"Hell, no. The guys I talked to in the Lumina say you and the kids are not targets, but I think Gordy and Jack know more about it. I'm going to find out exactly what they know."
She was quiet for a moment. "Just promise me if you decide to pound either one of them, you'll take it away from the house."
"Give me some credit, Eames. I won't get into a fight in the middle of a family gathering...although I seriously doubt anyone would notice."
She smiled at him. He was almost right. "Maggie would."
He nodded. He had no doubt of that. "I'll behave," he muttered softly, turning back toward the window. His wandering thoughts once again took him away, but this time, the trauma of the night caught up with him and he dozed.
She woke him up when they got to her father's. To her relief, he was not difficult to rouse. When they entered the house, they were not surprised to find Maggie and Tom sleeping on the couch. Her father was in his chair, reading a book, which he set aside when they came in the door. Concerned eyes fell on his son-in-law. "Alex called me. Are you all right, Bobby?"
He nodded, once again asking a question that would deflect concern away from him. "How are the kids?"
"Stubborn. Maggie insisted on waiting up, and Tom refused to leave her side. They fell asleep between ten and eleven."
With a sigh, Eames started for the couch. John met her there. "I'll get Maggie. She's too big for you to be carrying right now, honey."
Eames knew better than to argue with him. But before she could lean over to lift up her son, familiar hands settled on her sides and a soft voice whispered past her ear. "Let me get him."
She started to shake her head, but he kissed her neck and nuzzled her ear, distracting her enough that he was able to step past her and lift Tom from the couch with little difficulty. "Not fair," she whispered.
Laughing softly, he carried Tommy to his bed. He met John in the hallway on his way back to the living room. John studied him. "Difficult night?"
"We've had worse."
"You look worn out."
He shrugged. "Concussion."
"Alex didn't get hurt, did she?"
"No, John. She's fine. I...I try to take care of her. Tonight I got lucky and I was able to do just that. I got a little beat up in the process, but that's a small price to pay."
John studied the younger man, knowing full well that he was being sincere. "I want to tell you something, Bobby, and I want you to listen closely to me. I love every one of my children and grandchildren dearly. I always tried hard never to play favorites. Always. But God help me, I'm only human, and Alex has always had a special place in my heart. She gave her mother and me hell when she was a teenager, but she made up for it all as an adult. The day she graduated from the Academy was one of the proudest days of my life. And the day she married you was one of the happiest. I don't know if I have to say this, Bobby, but I love you like one of my own. You are my son, every bit as much as the ones I raised. Never forget that."
Goren nodded his head slowly. "Th-that means a lot to me, John."
John rested his hand on Goren's shoulder. "You and Alex have been through a lot, and you have weathered every storm. You have given me two beautiful grandchildren who keep me young. I couldn't ask for more from any man." He poked his head into the living room. "Good night, Alex."
"Good night, Dad. See you in the morning."
"Good night, Bobby."
"Thank you, John."
John gave him a smile and headed back down the hall toward his bedroom. Goren returned to the living room where Eames was looking at the assortment of pictures her father kept scattered about the room, pictures that chronicled her life and the lives of her siblings, her nieces and nephews, her children. "Alex?"
She turned to him, waiting for him to cross the room to her. Reaching out, she gently ran her hand over his injured side. His eyes closed when her hand slipped under his shirt and touched the bandaging. The fingers of her other hand skimmed across his cheek, past his ear and into the hair at the back of his head. He offered no resistance when she applied a little pressure to guide his face closer to hers. His hands pulled her into his body as her mouth sought his. Then something changed. Her kiss became more demanding, more desperate. He noted the difference but was not inclined to question it at that moment, unwilling to step from her arms...until...
He heard the sound in the back of his mind, but it took time for it to register for what it was. As soon as they realized what the sound was, he released the hem of her shirt and let her withdraw from his arms. "Mama? Dada?"
A soft smile touched his face at the sound of the soft voice. Turning toward the hallway as the little boy charged into the room, he watched Tom jump into his mother's arms. "Miss-u, Mama!" he exclaimed as he touched her face with both hands.
"I missed you, too, baby."
He launched into an extended explanation that ended with the words "...wif Maga."
Goren walked over to them and leaned over to kiss the side of the baby's head, gently running a hand over his blond curls. "Did you wait up with Maggie?"
"'Es, Dada!"
"Crash and burn, little man."
Tom giggled. "'Ike-a pane?"
"Not ideally, but yes, buddy, like a plane."
Tom yawned and began an extended question. Both parents picked up words that sounded like 'parade' and 'turkey' in addition to the well-recognized words 'Maga,' 'pie,' and 'Yake,' which was his word for Jake, who was the cousin closest in age to them. Eames looked at Goren, who made an educated guess at what their son was asking. "Yes, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and you and Maggie can watch the parade and play with Jake."
With a smile, Eames added, "And we're going to have turkey and pie."
He clapped his hands with a giggle then settled his head on his mother's shoulder. "I'll put him back to bed and meet you in the bedroom."
He smiled with a nod and watched her head for the hallway. He went into the bedroom, changed into a pair of sweatpants and sat on the bed, holding his throbbing head. He heard the door open, expecting his wife to sit beside him on the bed and try to soothe the pain away. But it wasn't Eames who scrambled up onto the bed, and it wasn't her hands that reached out, small and cool, to smooth over the side of his face, gentle and reassuring. He turned his head, meeting dark eyes that looked so much like his own. She smiled and he couldn't help but return it. But her smile quickly faded. "You got hurt."
"Just a little. I'm okay."
"Does your head hurt?"
He nodded. "Yes, it does."
"What happened? Did you bang it?"
"Yes, I did."
She looked thoughtful. "Then lay down, Daddy."
"Let's get you back to bed first, mouse."
"I can fine my way back to my room." He let her gently push him back onto the bed. "Jus' lay down onna pillows."
When he laid back, the room began to spin and the throbbing in his head grew worse. She sat on the pillows beside him, gently singing softly the words of a German lullaby he'd sung to her for as long as she could remember. The gentle tone and cadence of her voice, and the little hand that played with his hair, lulled him to sleep.
When Eames came into the room, she stopped and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at the little girl sitting on the pillows beside her sleeping father. Maggie raised a finger to her lips. "Shhh, Mommy. Daddy's sleepin'."
"So I see. What are you doing in here?"
"I waked up in my bed, an' I didn' 'member seein' you an' Daddy, so I comed in here to check. Daddy's head was hurtin' 'cause he banged it, so I telled him to lay down an' he goed to sleep."
She studied her daughter for a moment before she smiled. "Always taking care of your daddy, aren't you?"
"Al'ays, Mommy."
"Are you ready to go back to bed?"
"Will you take care-a Daddy now?"
"Yes, sweetheart. I'll take care of Daddy."
Maggie kissed his cheek and slid off the bed to the floor. She walked over to her mother, who squatted down to her level. Maggie wrapped her arms around her neck and squeezed. "I love you, Mommy," she said softly. Pulling back, she asked, "Will you he'p me make waffles for Daddy for brefkiss?"
"You want to make waffles for him?"
"He al'ays makes waffles for me, but he got hurt. So I wanna make waffles for him this time."
Eames smiled and drew Maggie into another hug. "Of course I'll help you make waffles. Now let's tuck you back into bed."
"That's okay, Mommy. I can tuck myse'f back in. You stay here an' take care-a Daddy." She kissed her mother's cheek and then leaned down to kiss her stomach. "Good night, my new baby."
The little girl left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Eames opened the door and watched down the hall as Maggie went into her room. Smiling, she closed the door, undressed and climbed into bed. Nestling into his side, she reflected that between her and Maggie, he would always be taken care of. She ran her hands over the soft hair on his chest and drifted off.
