Into the eye of the storm, no sign or omen. Make it right, or fall to the other side, where fields are burning. From the day you're born, you'll always hit the ground running.

(Quattro – Calexico)

It was almost eight o'clock. Bobby was sitting on the sofa, attempting to watch a documentary on the History Channel. It was something about the transcontinental railroad. The detective got up and began pacing, watching as some expert began explaining the railroad's historical significance. It was just the sort of thing that would usually interest him, but tonight he couldn't seem to concentrate on it. Anyway, it was almost eight o'clock; that was when Alex said she would call him. Bobby checked his watch again. If she didn't call him, he'd call her. Possibilities raced through his mind. Perhaps she was afraid to call him because Deakins had given her bad news. Perhaps she was too busy and had already forgotten about him. Perhaps she'd gotten into a car accident on the way home. Perhaps she'd–

"Hello?" Bobby yanked the phone out of the handle after its first ring. "Eames?"

"Hey there." His partner's voice was cool and clear. "How're you? How was your day off?"

"I'm – I'm fine. Did you tell Deakins? What did he say?" Bobby paused for a moment. "And – and did you check the files? You know, the ones I told you about – the ones about McGarry. Did you?" Bobby tapped his fingers against the side of the table, anxiously awaiting Alex's response.

"All right. Let me answer one question at a time, here." Alex yawned. She was still exhausted from the past week. Between having to worry about Bobby at work and his phone calls in the middle of the night, she hadn't had much time to rest. "First of all, I did tell Deakins. He asked where you were, so I pulled him aside for a while and explained it to him as best I could."

"You – you told him what I wanted you to tell him, right?"

"Yep. I–"

"What'd he say?"

"I was just getting to that. He began by telling me that he wanted you to know that his biggest concern was for your health. He also said that there's no way you should worry about losing your job. He's going to work something out. So long as you take care of yourself and stay in touch with Corinne it should be fine." Alex had a feeling that it wasn't the best idea to go into detail at the moment.

"What about McGarry?" Alex sighed. He certainly wasn't wasting any time.

"Well, I got the files, as per your instructions."

"Have you looked through them yet?"

"No, but–"

"Can I come get them? I want to look though them. I'll show you. It – it won't take long."

"If you–"

"Wait!" Bobby whirled around, nearly knocking the phone to the floor in the process. He peered outside, staring out the window towards the street. Cars were streaming by slowly; the apartments on the other side glowed with steady golden light. It was magnificent, Bobby thought. But there was also no way he could go out there. The night beckoned to him, drawing him forth; only a strange, sourceless fear held him back. If he went outside, he'd run into people. They'd look at him. They'd stare at him. They'd follow him with their eyes as he walked. Bobby's gaze darted back to the safety of his apartment. There was no way he could go out alone. There was just no way. "Can you come here? Can you bring them? You can stay here, if you want. I'll make you dinner."

"Bobby, I already ate."

"Oh." Back in her apartment, Alex leaned back in her armchair and closed her eyes. Bobby seemed to be entirely unaware of the fact that she, too, had needs. She felt like he was wrapped in a whirlwind composed of his own thoughts and feelings and couldn't see beyond it, couldn't see through to her or anybody else anymore. "You don't want to come, then?" The urgency in his tone was impossible to miss. "Alex, if we don't hurry he'll get away with it! He'll – he'll get away with it." Bobby paused. "You have to let me come tomorrow. You have to. I'll solve the case. I mean, I've already solved it. I just have to show you. Just – just – you have to let me show you."

"All right." Alex stood up, reluctantly. Frankly, she wasn't too happy having to think of Bobby alone in his apartment in such an agitated state. "But Bobby – you've got to listen to me for a second. I can't keep doing this. I'm completely exhausted. You may not be tired, but I am. So if I can't always come, it's not that I have anything against you. I just can't keep up with you."

"If you let me come back this wouldn't be a problem." Alex felt a headache coming on. She didn't want to have to humor him. If she was in his position, she wouldn't want her partner to lie to her. She'd want honesty.

"I don't think that's a good discussion to have right now. And I don't know if it's a discussion you should be having with me anyway. I think when you come back is up to you and Corinne. It is not up to me." Alex paused. "As for the files, I'll bring them over. I can't promise you I'll stay long. I need to get to bed. But I'll bring them, and you can read them over. How's that?"

"Okay. See you soon." Bobby hung up the phone and walked back over to the sofa. Alex was coming. It would be all right. Alex was coming with the files and he'd find the answers and prove it to her and it would be all right. Bobby leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. Every second, he felt himself swing between feeling an immense fascination for the world and being frustrated that he could not pin it down, make it take shape. Bobby stood up again and picked up his binder, which he opened to a blank page. Maybe if he wrote them down, the thoughts would go away; maybe if he spilled them out onto the page, they'd stop pushing each other around in his head.

He had been writing for a few minutes when a knock on the door brought him to his feet again.

"Hello!" He ushered Alex into the room, removing her coat and placing it on top of the sofa. "You – you should sit down. It's kind of messy," he added, gesturing around at the cluttered apartment.

"I can see that," Alex replied glibly. "What's with the boxes?"

"Packages."

"I see." Alex navigated her way around the brown boxes and sat down on the sofa. "So, shall we start?" Alex handed Bobby a manila folder.

"Is this it?"

"Yep," Alex replied, watching as he made some space on the floor and lay down on the carpet, spreading the papers out before him. Bobby scrutinized the forms, frowning. There was a connection; he had seen it before. Now he just had to put it back together. Bobby felt the facts flow together and then spread themselves out again. He had to be right. He had never been so absolutely sure, so perfectly confident about his conclusions before. Alex just had to trust him! All he was asking for was a little trust. "Alex?" His partner turned towards him. "You have to believe me. You – you have to believe me about this. I know that I'm right." Bobby got to his feet and walked over to his stereo. The apartment was too quiet, too still; a little music would do a world of good. He scanned his collection, chose a CD, and stuck it in the player.

"What're you putting on?" Alex hoped it wouldn't be dance music. After that ride in the car she'd had enough of that to last her quite a while.

"You'll see." Bobby hit play and the beat burst through the small apartment. There was something vaguely tropical about the song; it had always reminded Bobby of traveling. As he listened to it now he could almost feel himself floating up on the sound waves themselves as they spiraled out, shaking the books on the stereo's shelf. Watching him, Alex sighed heavily. She had never seen anyone immerse themselves so fully and completely in a piece of music. The song wasn't even particularly good, really. And played at that volume, it was more irritating than anything else. Bobby whirled around. "I'm turning off the lights."

"All–"

"It's too bright, you see. And – and when the lights are off you can see out into the street and watch the car headlights." Alex nodded. At least he wasn't insisting on solving the case anymore. Instead, the papers lay, forgotten, on the floor. "I want to go out. I want to go somewhere. I want to travel. Do you want to go somewhere, Alex?" Bobby spread out his arms, stretching. He was walking a tightrope between extreme confusion and perfect clarity, balancing precariously between the two. So long as the music was there it would be all right. So long as Alex was there it would be all right. So long as the sudden joy he felt didn't turn into frustration it would be all right.

"Bobby?"

"What?"

"I think I might have to get going soon. It's getting kind of late." Alex headed towards the papers and began to reorganize them. She felt strangely alone in the room with Bobby. She was sitting there, tired from work and hoping to go home; he was elsewhere, seeing something in the music she couldn't begin to understand.

"No!" Bobby was right beside her again. "Don't go! You – you should stay and listen to this album. We can work on the case! It's not late. It's really not. And you have to tell me about tomorrow. I want to come back." In the back of his mind, Bobby knew it wouldn't work. He couldn't work; he couldn't even think straight. "Alex, please don't go." Alex put the papers back on the table, trying to find Bobby's silhouette in the shadowy apartment.

"I'll stay another hour." The thought of leaving him when he was so obviously scared to be alone was worrying, but she just couldn't go on; she had to sleep. Worse still was the fact that he kept insisting on returning.

"That's good." Bobby sat down next to her. "I – I don't know, Alex." How could he express what he thought and felt if he didn't even understand it himself? The closest comparison he could come up with related to rafting. It was like trying to balance on a raft spinning down rapid after rapid. Just when he thought he was safe the water would swing him around once again. "I'm – I'm worried." He paused. "I really do want to come tomorrow."

"I want you to come tomorrow, too," Alex began. "But – and I only say this because I respect you and don't want to talk down to you – I really don't think it's such a good idea, right now." Bobby shifted uneasily beside her.

"It was fine before. You let me come before. Even if – I – I can still do this, Alex." Bobby wasn't sure who he was trying to convince anymore. "This – it's the only thing that – that I can do. I have to do this. I have to." He got up again and walked over to the stereo; as he leaned against the speakers he could feel the music humming through them. "I'm going to lose my job. I'm going to lose my job, Alex." The confidence that had sustained him was cracking like thin ice. "I know you said you spoke to him but it's – it's not going to – I don't know." Bobby struggled to concentrate. His mind was feeding him static. He didn't hear voices; he knew it was all internal. None of it was from the outside. Yet he couldn't pinpoint where the thoughts were coming from; he couldn't make them go away; he couldn't make it stop. "What am I supposed to do, Alex? What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know." Alex spoke softly, her words small and serious. "I wish I did, Bobby. I wish I knew." She searched for a solution, for something to suggest, something to do. "For the time being, what would you say if I asked you to help clean up your apartment? We'll do it together. Maybe you'll feel better if it's a bit neater around here." Bobby's ability to be both obsessively organized and incredibly chaotic had always puzzled her. He kept his binder with him constantly; he worked brilliantly with maps and charts and diagrams. No matter how hard he tried, though, he was always losing things, pushing papers off his desk onto the ground, letting forms accumulate in uneven piles on the office cabinets. When he did clean, he did it perfectly; when he didn't, the mess would spread with alarming rapidity. "So, how about it?" Bobby paused.

"Okay."

"We need the lights, though."

"I know." Squinting, Bobby turned them back on. The apartment really was a disaster. Alex was right. It would be better once they fixed it.

"All right." Alex approached Bobby carefully. For all his usual obliviousness to the concept of personal space, she'd noted that being close to others made him even more edgy lately. "Now, I'll start on this side. You start over there." She looked around at the brown boxes. "I think we should stack those in one corner." Alex counted them, raising an eyebrow. "What'd you buy, anyway?"

"I – I'm not sure. Books, mostly. Some other things as well. Do you want me to open them?"

"I think we'd better save it for another time. We've got enough on our hands as it is." Alex strode over to the other side of the room and began picking scattered books and magazines off the floor. "I'd rather not be here all night if at all possible, so we should get started here."

"Okay." Bobby decided to begin with the table. There had always been something calming about cleaning, especially now that Alex was there helping him. He liked the small, simple decisions. Would he put the papers on the left side or the right? Would he move the potted plant onto the windowsill, or would he keep it where it was? Bobby took a deep breath. He was shaky. His thoughts were shaky; even his hands were trembling. But he wouldn't think about it. He had to rearrange the items on the shelves. That was what he had to think about.

"It looks better already." Alex was smiling at him. "Before long this place will be spotless."

"There's a new painting, too." Bobby had bought it on an online auction; it was in one of the packages, probably. "I – I think it would look good here."

"In the boxes?" Bobby nodded.

"We'll put it up when we finish with everything else." Alex glanced at the boxes again, hoping that Bobby had the money to afford all his purchases. It seemed like an awful lot. "Anyway, Bobby," she continued, "I want you to know that you won't lose your job over this, okay? I promise."

"You can't promise that." Bobby sat down, sweeping debris up from the floor with his hands.

"And this from the man whose favorite thing to do is make promises that might be impossible to keep? I don't think so! I can and I do promise it. Got that?" Bobby was silent for a moment. There was the music. There was Alex. There was his job, which he wasn't going to lose. They held him back; they wouldn't let him fall though.

"Okay." Bobby leaned back against the wall and yawned. He was sleepy, all of a sudden, just like the night before. An hour after he'd taken the stuff Corinne had prescribed him he'd ended up falling asleep at the kitchen table. It was strange, as if the speed of his racing thoughts was battling against medicines that were supposed to calm him, to let him sleep. Strange…

"Tired?" Alex looked towards her partner.

"Woozy." Bobby closed his eyes. The stuff made him dizzy. He had thought it wasn't going to work for a while. Maybe it just took an hour or two to have an effect.

"We can do this another time." Alex squatted down beside him. It was kind of funny, actually. He'd gotten tired so abruptly! He was practically falling asleep on the floor. "Hello, Bobby?"

"What?" He opened his eyes wearily, searching for the source of the sound.

"Over here. You okay?" Alex peered at him carefully. He seemed sort of disoriented.

"Just dizzy." His partner held out her hand. "That medication makes me dizzy," he mumbled, holding on as he stood up slowly. "Lets me sleep, though."

"That's good." Alex pushed a package aside, clearing space to let her partner through. He let go of her hand, rubbing his eyes. "Anyway, I guess I'd better get going and let you get some sleep." Bobby nodded.

"Are you coming again?"

"Of course I'll come again! Maybe not tomorrow, but as soon as I can." Bobby was leaning against the wall. "Go sleep."

"Okay." He headed into his room; Alex walked back and picked up the forms she'd brought.

"Wait, Bobby?" He'd left the door to his room open. "Do you want me to leave you with a copy of these?" He didn't respond. "Bobby?" She peered in. He was already asleep.