He was cold...and he felt sick. He rolled over onto his back, slowly returning to full awareness. Cold...wind...snowflakes stinging as the wind drove them into his skin. His head was throbbing. But more than anything else, he was cold. He rolled over to his stomach and slowly got to his feet, staggering a bit as the world tilted on him. He stumbled to the closest pillar and leaned against it. He was shivering and he still felt sick. Looking up, he saw the courthouse looming in front of him. Inside...yeah, that was a good idea.

He headed unsteadily toward the building, eventually finding his way around to the side door he'd come out of...how long ago was that? Pulling it open, grateful the locking mechanism wasn't working and not bothering to wonder why, he slipped into the building. He made his way to the stairwell, opening the door and stumbling to the stairs. He sat down, still shivering, still feeling dizzy and sick, but appreciating the warmth and the silence.

He rested his arms on his knees and hung his throbbing head down. Slowly, his shivering stopped and his breathing grew quiet. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the rhythm of his breathing and away from the dizzy, sick feeling in his body. Plap...plap...plap... What the hell was that? He opened his eyes and looked at a small puddle of red on the floor. Plap... another drip fell away from his head to join the puddle, making that small plap sound when it hit the floor. It was a very small sound, but it echoed in the utter silence of the stairwell. Fascinated, he watched as drop after drop fell away from him and the puddle slowly got bigger.

Eames knelt by a pillar where the snow was clearly disturbed. Her stomach knotted when she saw the blood and she looked as far into the storm as she could, but he wasn't anywhere around. She saw where he got to his feet...and followed the trail he left heading toward the courthouse.

He heard the door beyond the stairwell open, felt the cold draft of the blizzard wind, but he didn't move. He just continued watching the slow but steady dripping...until the stairwell door opened. Then he finally looked up.

The door closed behind her and she leaned against it, studying him. His right hand was bloody, which was where the blood on her hand had come from. The sleeve of his jacket was also dark and wet. His hair was damp with snow and blood. Now that he'd raised his head, the blood no longer dripped to the floor but ran down the side of his face. He squinted a little to keep her in focus, and she recognized the look on his face. He wasn't quite sure exactly what had happened. But he voiced the first thought that popped into his head. "Are...are you all right?"

She pushed off from the door and walked to him, avoiding the small puddle and throwing herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. He lightly kissed her skin...warm and soft...just like the lips that found his seconds later. A soft moan escaped from his throat before he could stop it. She pulled back slowly. "Give me your handkerchief."

He fished in his pocket and pulled it out. Gently, she cleaned the blood from his face. He closed his eyes until she finished. His head was still swimming, but she gave him something else to focus on. She folded the handkerchief over and laid it against the wound on his head. "It's not deep...just a flesh wound. Let's get your jacket off so I can look at your shoulder."

"What's wrong with my shoulder?"

She took his bloodied hand and held it up for him to see. Confused, his eyes traveled up his sleeve to his shoulder. With the rush of adrenaline he'd been under, he had never even noticed his shoulder was injured. And after being hit in the head, there was more than enough distraction to prevent him from feeling that pain. He shrugged out of the jacket. The entire sleeve of his shirt was wet with blood. "Great..." he muttered.

He took his hand away from his head and laid the handkerchief on his knee, gently running his fingers over his shoulder and moving it back and forth. He winced, but it was more of a bruised pain than the agonizing fire of a bullet injury. Her fingers joined his and she looked at the injury through the tear the bullet had made in his shirt. "Another flesh wound, just a little deeper," she said. "The bleeding has just about stopped."

She took the handkerchief from his knee and placed it back over the head wound, which was still bleeding. "Maybe we should get you seen at the hospital."

"Why? I'll be fine."

"Bobby..."

He rested his hands on her hips. "With you and Maggie to take care of me, I'll be just fine." He swallowed a wave of nausea...and a thought occurred to him. "Wallace...?"

"She tried to get away."

"Did you shoot her?"

"Would you be upset if I did?"

He smiled. "You didn't."

"How do you know?"

"You, uh, aren't acting like you just shot someone. And you still have your sidearm."

She laughed. His mind never slowed down; his brilliance never dimmed. She kissed him softly. "We should get back to the courtroom."

His hands tightened on her hips. "Wallace..."

"She...ran in front of a car. They'll take her to the prison ward at Bellevue." She sat down on the step beside him. "What happened in the corridor, Bobby?"

He sighed. "She fought us the whole way, and she managed to get her hands in front of her. She grabbed the bailiff's gun and started shooting. She ran down the hall and I ran after her."

"Did you return fire?"

He shook his head. "I never had a clear shot."

"Do you remember getting hit at all?"

He shook his head. "All I remember is thinking I couldn't let her get away. Then she would go after you and Maggie. I couldn't let that happen."

He closed his eyes again when her fingers touched his temple and trailed down the side of his face. An involuntary tremor coursed through him and he laid a hand on her leg. "We, uh, really should get back," he said softly. "Carver and Burrows will be wondering what happened."

She sighed and nodded. "Are you sure we don't have to stop by the hospital on the way home?"

"What are they gonna do?"

"Your head could use a few stitches."

He sighed. "Ok, Eames. If it'll make you feel better, we'll stop. But if they even suggest keeping me for any reason, I'll leave. I am going home tonight, and I don't care who doesn't like it."

"With this storm..."

"I'm going home if I have to walk."

She smiled. "Ok, Bobby. We'll go home."

She stood up and watched as he tried to stand. He was still unsteady and she grabbed his arm. He leaned against the wall as the room tilted again. His stomach lurched. He closed his eyes, turning his attention toward settling his stomach. "Bobby?"

He raised a hand. Slowly, his stomach settled. "Okay...I'm okay."

"Still dizzy?"

"A little."

"Should we go to the elevator?"

"No. I couldn't handle that." He swallowed. "I'll be okay."

He started up the stairs, and she held onto his arm. "You'd better sit down if you feel too badly because if you fall down the stairs, you're going to take me with you. Then I'll really be pissed."

"Well, I wouldn't want that. Last time I pissed you off, you took me down."

"You deserved that, sneaking up on me like you did."

"Sneaking...? Eames, I don't sneak up on anyone. I really thought you knew I was there."

"I didn't, okay? With that wind I couldn't hear anything."

"Sorry. I was just so glad to see that you were okay, I didn't think about that."

"It's not very often you forget to think."

"No, it's not...and you're responsible for it every time."

She smiled at that as they walked to the door leading to the second floor corridor. She pulled it open. He was steadier and feeling better. He took his hand away from his head and shoved the handkerchief into his pocket. The bleeding had mostly stopped. Reaching toward her, he took his jacket and slipped it back on, not wanting to alarm anyone in the courtroom with his bloody sleeve. The blood was less obvious in the dark fabric of his jacket. "Um...I probably should clean up a little."

She nodded. "That's probably a good idea."

She leaned against the wall outside the rest room, waiting for him. "Detective Eames?"

She looked up as Burrows approached her, with Carver and Shaeffer right behind him. She straightened away from the wall. The judge looked around. "Where is your partner?"

She motioned toward the rest room. "He'll be right out."

"The trial has been adjourned for the day. What happened?"

"How is your bailiff?"

"He'll be all right, but the other victim died before the ambulance arrived."

She looked toward the floor. "I'm sorry to hear that."

The door opened and Goren came out, stopping when he saw the three men. "Uh...is everything okay?"

Burrows looked concerned. "Are you okay, detective?"

"I, uh...yes, your honor."

"You look pale," Carver noted.

Goren waved a hand dismissively. "It's not a big deal."

"Come with me," the judge motioned.

They followed him to his chambers. Shaeffer and Carver stood off to the side as Eames sat down. Goren sat a little more heavily than he'd intended, unable to stifle a soft groan. Eames looked at him, but he waved a hand, which he then pressed against his forehead. He felt sick again.

Burrows leaned forward, concerned again. "Should I call for a doctor?"

Goren looked at him and shook his head. "No, sir. We'll stop by the ER at St. Vincent's on the way home."

Carver stepped forward a step so he could see Goren's face. "Just how badly hurt are you, detective...no, wait. Don't answer me." He shifted his gaze to Eames. "Detective Eames?"

She laughed softly. Carver knew her partner well. "Just a couple of flesh wounds needing a few stitches."

Goren muttered, "I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight."

Eames grinned at him. He was being stubborn. Across the room, Shaeffer spoke for the first time. "Where's my client?"

Goren looked at him. "A word of caution, Mr. Shaeffer. Nicole Wallace is never what she appears. Don't let her steamroll you. Like a black widow, she'll draw you in, seduce you, and then eat you for dinner."

Shaeffer bristled. "Detective Goren...I can assure you..."

Goren leaned over, swallowing another surge of nausea. "Mr. Shaeffer, you do not know her. I saw the way she was with you, even on the stand. I know that...behavior. I have...been on the receiving end of it. But it never got her what she wanted, so she turned on the venom. She directs it toward Eames, and toward Maggie, because that's her nature. That's part of her pathology. But do not fall for her act, Mr. Shaeffer. It can be a fatal error. Nicole will behave in whatever manner she feels she must to get what she wants, and then she'll leave a trail of broken bodies when she's done. I learned that the hard way. I knew better, but I underestimated her...and I paid the price for that...but so did my father-in-law and my best friend, and worse, my wife and my daughter, and I can't forgive myself for that. But you've been warned now. Whatever you allow to happen will not be on my conscience. Just be careful."

Shaeffer frowned at him, and it was clear he didn't believe him. Goren just shrugged and sat back in the chair. "Where is she?" the lawyer asked.

Eames glared at him. "On her way to the prison ward at Bellevue. In her efforts to escape, after shooting the bailiff, my partner and an innocent man, she ran in front of a vehicle. She was alive when I left her in the custody of four uniformed officers. So you may want to trot yourself over to Bellevue when we're done here."

Carver looked at Shaeffer. "And when Ms. Wallace awakens, you can inform her of my intent to indict her for murder...and two more counts of attempted murder."

Goren frowned. "M-murder?"

Eames laid a hand on his arm. "The bystander."

He closed his eyes. "I, uh, I...tried to...get him out of the way." He shifted away from his wife, and she wasn't surprised. "Um...she was aiming at me...that time. I think...that must have been...when she hit my shoulder...then the-the bullet...continued on."

Great, Eames thought. It was going to be a long night. It was time to get going. She looked at Burrows. "Your honor, with all due respect, I really think we'd better leave now."

Burrows raised a hand. "Detective Goren, what happened in the hallway...I need to know whose negligence led to that."

Eames braced herself. If he took the blame, she was going to kick his ass all the way home. He shook his head slowly. "I can't say anyone was negligent, sir. She fought us every step of the way. I can't say how she got her hands in front of her, or how she got your bailiff's gun. Those things happen, unfortunately. I...I'm just sorry...an innocent man died."

Carver leaned forward. "Don't bear that burden, detective. You did everything you could. Let Wallace bear the burden for her actions."

Goren frowned. "Someone should be sorry that man died. She won't."

"Be sorry for it then. But don't feel guilty."

Carver looked at Eames, who shrugged her shoulders. She would do what she could, but Bobby bore his burdens heavily and she found there was little she could do about that. Quietly, she said, "I think the best thing I can do right now is get him home to see Maggie."

Burrows nodded. "See that you get yourself seen on the way home, detective. Say hello to Maggie for us, and Mr. Carver will be in touch about the trial. I still may have you bring Maggie in on Monday, so the testimony she gave yesterday is still fresh in her mind."

Carver nodded. "I'll call you Monday morning."

Eames nodded at him. "Just let us know."

"Call me at home later. Let me know what the doctor said, and I'll give you an update on Ms. Wallace."

"All right."

They headed out of the chambers and started down the hall. He was very quiet, and she watched him closely. He wasn't unstable, but something was wrong. "Bobby..."

"I, um...I'll be right back."

He went back into the rest room and she leaned against the wall and waited. When he came back out, his hair was wet, and a trickle of fresh blood dribbled down in front of his ear. She held out her hand and he fished out the handkerchief. She gently wiped the blood away and drew him down so she could look at the wound. "Hospital," she said, leaving no room for argument.

He straightened up and took back the handkerchief. He leaned back down to catch her eyes. "I won't stay."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I won't, Eames."

"I heard you, Goren."

"As long as you understand."

She nodded. She understood perfectly. He would do exactly what the doctors wanted him to do, and she would make sure of it.