Goren readjusted himself on the couch, trying to find a position that didn't hurt so much. Eames came out of the kitchen with a glass of water. She placed four pills in his hand. "I really can go home, Eames."
"Not until you get that bed replaced, unless you particularly want to sleep in seagull blood."
"Not particularly, but I have a couch. I don't want to put you out."
She shook her head and headed back toward the kitchen. "You're not putting me out. I don't sleep on the couch, Goren."
He listened to her move about in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, rattling silverware, and he leaned his head back, making a game of identifying the noises she was making. When the noises stopped, he opened his eyes and she was standing near the small dining table in the breakfast nook watching him. "Something wrong?" he asked.
"I thought you were sleeping." She studied him for a long moment. He still looked pale, and he had not yet recovered that boundless energy that never let him stay still for long. Quietly, she said, "What are we going to do? She still has my keys, Bobby. She knows where we live and she can gain access to either of our apartments at any time. I…I know I'm not comfortable being alone here."
"Well, we change the locks. Or we move into new apartments. Or we just stay here together and never live alone again." She stared at him, mouth open slightly. He laughed, wincing. "I was joking, Eames. We'll help you move, if you want a new place."
"'We?' Just who are you volunteering to help move furniture?"
"Logan. He bullied me into bringing him along with me. I'll bully him into moving some furniture."
"So you and Logan have decided to be buds?"
"I wouldn't call us 'buds' exactly. No. But he's all right."
"Funny. He said the same thing about you."
"Is lunch ready?" He was ready to change the subject.
She smiled. "I'll bring it over…"
He raised a hand. "No. I can get up. I'm not an invalid."
"But…"
"A little suffering is good for the soul. I'm not going to break, Eames."
She watched him get off the couch, struggling to hide the pain it caused. He did everything he could to hide his discomfort from her, though she really wasn't sure why. Anytime he used his upper abdominal muscles, she could tell it caused him pain, so getting up and down was hard for him. But he wouldn't let her do much of anything for him, insisting he could do it for himself. So she let him be stubborn.
"Coffee?" she asked.
He just nodded. She set a cup of coffee in front of him and sat down across from him. She watched him for a moment before she said, "Bobby, we need to talk."
All the time she'd spent with him over the three days they'd kept him in the hospital, and they had both pointedly avoided discussing Wallace and what she had done. They needed to talk about it, whether they wanted to or not. "About what?"
"Don't play dumb with me."
"Eames, I don't want to…"
"I know you don't, but we need to. I need to." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Bobby, I haven't spent my life burying things and not talking about them. I can't do that like you can."
He looked down at his plate, scowling. He didn't like being reminded of his tendency to bury what he felt, especially when it involved something difficult or overwhelming. "Eat your lunch," she said, trying to placate him. He knew she wasn't letting it go, and he tried to eat slowly, but she wouldn't let him get away with that either.
When she was done eating she set her dish in the sink and walked up behind him. Leaning over and resting her chin on his shoulder, she said softly, "It doesn't take an hour to eat a sandwich. Come on. Finish up."
He stiffened when she kissed the side of his head above his ear. Damn. He finished his lunch reluctantly, set his plate in the sink and sat beside her on the couch. She smiled at him. "You can't run away from me here."
"I can't run anywhere at the moment."
"You know what I mean."
"Would you let me get away with it?"
"Not a chance."
"Ok, then."
"Before I say anything else, I need to get something out." He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. She smacked his shoulder. "You idiot! After all we talked about you walked right into it and let her damn near kill you!"
"I…couldn't stay away. I had to…"
She let her anger build. She needed to be mad at him right now. "You had to what? Get yourself killed?"
"I wasn't trying to do that. I just…I had to get you out of there, away from her. What the hell was I supposed to do? Walk away?"
"You went after her alone, damn you!"
"I couldn't send anyone else. This was between her and me. You know that. She'd never physically attacked me before. I…I wasn't prepared for it."
"You should have been! I told you…"
"I know, I know…you told me…" He got off the couch, grunting, and he began pacing, angry and agitated. "Hindsight is 20/20, Eames. Now I know…what she's capable of…"
"You always knew what she was capable of! You just never thought she'd turn that against you. Why should you be immune to her evil?"
"She always got a bigger kick out of the psychological abuse."
"Well, I guess that's getting old now and she wants to see real pain."
"If she wanted to cause me real pain," he yelled. "She would have hurt you."
She fell silent, and she just sat there and stared at him. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't yelling at him any more. He stopped and looked at her. "What?" he asked more quietly.
"Settle down and come over here," she said softly, her anger gone.
"I…"
"I'm done, Bobby. I'm not going to yell at you any more."
It took him a few minutes to settle himself down. The truth of the matter was he was angrier at himself for letting this happen than she could ever be at him. He understood her anger, and he knew she needed to yell at him. He wasn't quite sure why he'd yelled back though. He sat down, a little too heavily, sending a jarring pain through his upper abdomen up into his chest. He doubled over, waiting for it to subside. As the pain faded, he became aware that she'd moved right up against him, draping her arm across his back and pressing her forehead against the side of his head. As his breathing eased, she whispered, "Are you ok?"
He nodded, and she sat back. Slowly he leaned back. "I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For yelling. You didn't do anything wrong. It was all me. I let my guard down; I let her get to me."
"She always gets to you."
"Not usually with steel, though."
He looked at her, realization dawning. She'd baited him, gotten him angry, and he'd confessed something he otherwise never would have. "Damn it, Eames. You did that on purpose."
"Of course I did. But I needed to yell at you. You put yourself in a lethal situation, because you were angry. You can't ever do that again."
"She crossed some invisible line with me when she brought you into it."
"But you let her get the better of you. You let her see that she hit you right where she meant to. She knew you'd do exactly what you did, all because she took me away from you. The only thing that saved us, Bobby, was Mike Logan."
He nodded, looking at the floor and not at her. She was exactly right. If he'd gone alone, as he'd first intended, she would have killed him and then left Eames to die a slow death in the abandoned building. Anger again flared, and he trembled. He had no vent for it; he wouldn't take it out on her again. "How could I be so stupid?"
She watched his fists clench and unclench, saw the firm set of his jaw, and she knew he was angry. She also knew that he was most angry at himself. And she wasn't quite sure how to defuse his anger. She touched his arm, and he pulled away. He didn't usually do that. He was afraid…afraid of how he was feeling, and he didn't want to say anything that would hurt her. She didn't push it. She moved away, to the far end of the couch, and sat quietly, picking up a book she'd been reading. When he was ready, he'd let her know. He always did. This wasn't over yet…he still had explaining to do.