A/N: I'm totally blocked on Spilled Blood, so you guys get another chapter of this instead :)
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Alex gritted her teeth against the pain as Deakins helped her into his car. Her ribs were taped tightly, which the doctor claimed was supposed to help, but when her ribs weren't screaming, her head or the surgical incision in her chest was. All the same, she was determined to get the out of the hospital today, so there was no way in hell that she was letting out a sound.
"Alex," he said as he got behind the wheel, "I know I promised to stick with you today, but I'm in a mad dash to get back to One PP. Is there anything you're going to need in the next few hours that you don't already have with you?" Not waiting for her response, he pulled out into traffic a little too quickly.
"Uh, no, I guess not. I have my assortment of drugs, I have clothes . . . Wait, you're going to take me back with you?" she said with sudden excitement. "Because if that's what you mean, I am seriously considering kissing you right now."
"What would my wife think?" he teased. "And that's not exactly what I meant. I was thinking more along the lines of dropping you off at Bobby's apartment. It's on the way."
She blinked. "Ok, there are a number of things wrong with that idea, but to start with the simplest, his place is not on the way to work."
"I was hoping you'd be too drugged to notice that," he said, not bothering to argue the point.
She groaned. "Drop me off anywhere you want. Drop me off in the middle of Times Square, if you must. Just do not drop me off with him!"
"He's your partner, Alex. If I can't trust him with you, who can I trust?"
"That's not what I mean. It's just . . . he doesn't want to have to deal with me. Don't force him into it."
Deakins let out an astonished laugh. "Are you kidding me?"
"I'm way too tired to kid, Captain."
"Well, you're wrong. He's been worried sick about you."
"He didn't visit me the whole time I was in the hospital," she said. "That doesn't strike me as 'worried sick'."
"You're not the only one who's been having a hard time lately. He won't talk to anyone about it, but I'm pretty sure he blames himself for what happened. I think he's afraid to see you and find out that you might agree."
"What?" she said, shocked. "You've got to be . . . it wasn't his fault!"
"You know that, Alex, and I know that, but I've had zero luck convincing him, so now its your turn. Just let him take care of you for the day; it'll give him something to keep his mind busy."
"Captain . . ."
"Look, Eames," he said as he pulled up in front of Goren's building, "the worst that can happen is you tell him you're tired and play possum until I can come get you at quitting time."
She sighed, knowing he was right. "Fine. But I'm going to remember this the next time someone asks me how nice a boss you are."
"Hey, I don't know about you, but I have this thing about partners having to be able to at least face each other. Sit tight, I'm gonna call up and get him down here."
Goren was sitting, staring sightlessly into the depths of his fourth cup of coffee of the day, when his buzzer rang. He jumped, caught himself before he managed to spill the hot liquid, and scolded himself for being so clumsy. Then he went to the intercom. "Yes?"
"Goren, it's Deakins. Would you mind coming down here and getting your partner?"
"My . . . excuse me?" he said, thinking he'd misheard over the old intercom equipment.
"Your partner, Bobby. 'Bout five-foot-two, blonde, lots of broken bones?"
Why had Deakins brought her here? He knew Bobby couldn't face her! "But I . . ."
"No buts. I've got to drop her off with someone, and you're it. Now pretend you have manners and get down here and help her upstairs!"
Alex looked at Deakins in surprise as he turned back to her. "A little heavy-handed, don't you think? I told you he didn't want me."
"You want a new partner?" he challenged.
"No!"
"Then be quiet and make nice with him."
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"Hi," Alex said in a near-whisper as Goren appeared through the door of his building.
"Hi." He hung back for a second, trying to judge her condition before approaching her. "Uh, how do you feel?"
Well, at least he was speaking to her, she thought. "I'm ok. Sorry about this . . . I didn't know he was going to bring me here."
The depression which had momentarily lifted when he saw her returned and settled back on his shoulders. She hadn't wanted to see him; he should have expected that. "It's ok," he said lamely. "Uh, can you walk on your own, or do you need me to . . .?"
"I'm fine," she lied. "I can handle it, if you take my suitcase." She prayed she could stay on her feet long enough to get to his apartment; she really didn't want the humiliation of having to have him support her or, worse, carry her.
"Sure." Goren glanced over at Deakins, who was simply leaning against his car and watching them. "You can head back, sir. She'll be ok from here."
Deakins nodded. "Make sure she stays that way," he said shortly, sliding into the drivers seat. "It'll be fine, Eames," he called back to her, just before slamming the door.
Goren picked up her suitcase and turned back to her. "What did he mean by that?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Let's go." All she had to do, she told herself, was walk to the elevator, stand still while it rose to Bobby's floor, and then walk to his apartment door. She could handle that . . . couldn't she?
He unlocked the building door and held it open for her, watching with concern as she gingerly climbed up the steps. "You can't walk, Eames," he said as he shut the door behind them and pressed the button to call the elevator.
"Yes, I can. It's just . . . my ribs pull if I stand up straight."
He studied her face for a moment, then tried to take her arm. "At least let me give you a hand."
"No!" She pulled away from him too quickly, and found herself a few feet away from him, digging her nails into her hands to try to hold back the hot pain in her side. If he touched her, it would somehow make this more real. It would bring her back to reality, and she'd find herself either screaming or crying.
Goren watched as a procession of emotions crossed her face. There was a tiny flash of something that might have been gratitude, but that was immediately covered by fear, which was replaced by a look he would have labeled "tearful" if there had been tears in her eyes. "I was just offering . . ."
His words stopped as her face changed again, this time into a look of impatient stubbornness, and she said tightly, "I know. I'm just . . . not feeling up to being personable today." And I'm standing here with the guy who got hurt because of me, and he's acting like he's the one who owes me something, she thought.
He sighed heavily and told himself to accept it. "Ok. Well, uh, here's the elevator." He put a hand against the doors, forcing them to stay open while she made her way into the car. The pained look on her face made the knife that had been in his gut since the attack twist a little deeper.
She shuffled into the elevator and leaned back against the wall, trying to muffle her sigh of relief. She'd made it halfway. She could do this.
They rode in thick silence to his floor, where he repeated his actions, holding the doors open while she shuffled out of the elevator and into the hallway.
He stayed beside her, expecting her strength to run out with every tentative step she took, as they made their way toward his apartment, but she kept herself upright until they reached his door and he found himself proud of her persistence.
She took the opportunity to lean on the wall while he dug out his keys, trying to make it look casual.
He pushed the door open and preceded her in, kicking a wayward shoe out of the path as he went. "Come on in."
"Thank you." Even her voice sounded tired, she thought disgustedly as she forced herself to walk into just about the last place she wanted to be.
"You're tired." It wasn't a question; he didn't need to be a genius to notice her weak voice and lagging steps.
"A little," she admitted. "Is it ok if I crash on your couch?"
"No."
She looked up at him, taken aback. "Why not?"
"Because I have a perfectly good bed, and that's what you're going to use while you're here." He started to reach for her arm to direct her, but caught himself and just pointed, instead. "Through there."
Normally, she would have refused the gesture, knowing that if she took his bed he'd have to scrunch himself onto the couch, but today she knew that she had only enough energy to argue or walk herself to the bedroom - not both. After a moment's hesitation, she straightened her body as much as she could and followed him into the bedroom.
His bed was unmade, as it usually was on non-work days, and he wondered if now she would think he was a slob. Stopping just into the door, he turned to her and said, "I can, uh, change the sheets for you. I would have done it before, but I didn't know -"
"You don't have any strange diseases," she cut him off, stepping around him. "I'm way too tired to worry about whether your sheets are sparkling clean right now. Just need to lie down."
He watched her try to do a sort of roll to get herself onto the bed, watched her freeze when the movement sent pain through her body. "Stay still," he ordered, moving closer. "I'll help you up."
"I can -"
"Obviously, you can't. Just accept the help for once, ok?"
If she didn't, there was no way she was getting herself onto that bed without passing out from pain. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth.
He stood next to her, looking thoughtful, for a second. "Which parts of you are safe to touch?" Damn, that had sounded bad. He tried not to groan.
"Pretty much anything from the waist down is fine. Also my arms, but only below my shoulders."
He nodded. "So hips are ok? How about if I just lift you up a few inches so you can get your, uh, butt up there, and then you can do the rest yourself?"
"Yeah, I guess that'll work." She added this moment to her mental list of Things I would never, ever do or say if I wasn't thirty seconds from falling asleep standing up while Goren gave her a boost and, true to his word, released her once she was sitting on the bed. "Thanks," she mumbled as she slid the rest of her body onto the mattress and reached for a big down comforter that looked like heaven.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked hesitantly.
"I'm good. Just turn out the light, would you?"
"Sure." He hit the light switch and left the room, closing the door about halfway behind him.