He entered the house through the side door, into a hallway the stretched toward the front of the house in one direction and up a flight of stairs in the other direction. The fire had not yet reached this part of the house. He ran up the stairs to the second floor and through a doorway into another hallway. This hallway was filled with smoke and there were flames licking their way up the walls and across the ceiling. He dropped down and covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. Moving forward, no longer certain of his orientation within the house, he moved from room to room, looking for a very frightened child that he prayed was still alive.

Leaning against the SUV outside the burning house, Eames comforted the frantic mother. "My partner will find your son. Try to calm down." She knew the young mother was in shock, and she wrapped a blanket from the back of the car around her shoulders, sitting her in the passenger seat of the vehicle. Eames' eyes continued to stray to the house, looking for any sign of life emerging from the flames.

The sirens grew louder as the fire engines drew closer. It's about damn time, she thought. She had radioed the call in as soon as they saw the fire. Three fire trucks and an ambulance roared up to the scene, followed shortly by two patrol cars and the fire chief. She turned care of the mother over to the ambulance crew and approached the firemen as they pulled out their equipment, flashing her badge. "There's a little boy still in there," she informed them. "My partner went in to get him."

The fire chief looked at her. "Your partner did what?"

"He did what he had to do. He went in after a little boy."

He turned to his crews. "Ok, we got two people still in there. A little kid and a cop who went in to get him. Let's move it!"

Eames stepped back as the crews scrambled to get into the house, her worry increasing as time passed and there was no sign of her partner.

The last room he went into was the child's room. It was empty. Shit! Where could the little boy have gone? He headed back out into the flaming hallway, checking every door on his way back to the far hall, coughing harder as smoke filled his lungs. When he opened the bathroom door and hollered for the boy, he heard a cry in return. He found the terrified child huddled down in the bathtub, hugging a teddy bear. "Tommy, I'm a police man. I'm going to take you to your mommy. Ok?" He just nodded and whimpered. "Ok, come on."

Goren turned on the faucet in the sink, hoping the pipes hadn't yet burst. He was lucky. He wet down a towel and wrapped the little boy in it. "Now you keep your head right up against me, ok?" He pulled off his jacket and covered the boy with it. Coughing hard, he hesitated before opening the door. Then he stepped back into the hallway. Halfway to the stairs, part of the ceiling collapsed on top of them.

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Eames paced nervously back and forth in front of one of the fire trucks. She looked at her watch. Almost ten minutes. He should have been back out by now. This wasn't looking good. The more time that passed, the less likely it was her partner was going to make it out of the building, with or without the little boy. If the smoke got to him, that would be it. It had not been a good day to start with, and with each passing minute, it was getting worse.

The side door to the house suddenly slammed open, and Goren stumbled out, with something in his arms. She ran toward him as he dropped to his knees on the grass and three firefighters gathered around him, one of them taking the bundle from his arms. She could hear Goren coughing, but he wasn't saying anything. The firefighter handed the child to her as she came up to them and she started toward the waiting ambulance with him. The little boy coughed and whimpered, looking up at her, tears streaming through the dirt on his face. He started crying. "Mommy…"

There was a loud cry as the young mother saw her coming toward them with her son in her arms. Eames looked up as the woman ran toward her, and she handed Tommy to her with a smile. Tears were streaming down the mother's face. "Thank you!" she managed as she held her son close in her arms.

Eames smiled at her. "Don't thank me. Thank my partner."

She nodded toward where Goren was still kneeling in the grass, hunched over, coughing and trying to catch his breath while one of the firefighters held an oxygen mask to his face. The mother walked over to him, still holding her son, and knelt in the grass in front of him. He looked at her, and Eames saw for the first time, the blood running down his face. "Thank you, officer. Thank you so much."

He smiled one of his warm, reassuring smiles, laid a hand gently on the child's head and accepted the mother's hug. Then she let the paramedic take them back to the rig. Eames went over to him as another paramedic ran up to them with a first aid box. She dropped to her knees beside her partner. His eyes were half-closed and filled with pain, but he smiled at her. She shook her head. "You're gonna be the death of me, Goren," she said.

He coughed and his voice was hoarse. "Sorry, Eames," he said quietly. She watched his eyes slide closed and caught him as he slipped into unconsciousness.

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Eames paced the cubicle in the ER as she waited for them to bring Goren back from x-ray. He hadn't yet regained consciousness and that concerned them. The paramedics told her he'd suffered a "significant head injury" as well as "moderate to severe smoke inhalation" and that he would most likely be admitted, at least overnight for observation. He was still unconscious when they brought him back, so she simply sat beside him, holding his hand and watching him.

"Excuse me?"

Eames looked up at the man who came into the cubicle. He wore a white lab coat and a nametag that read Dr Barrett. He was young and very serious. He held out his hand. "I'm Dr. Christopher Barrett, staff neurologist. They called me in to review Robert's CT scan. Are you his wife?"

"No. He's not married."

"Does he have family, a significant other?"

"I am his partner. He has no other family, except his mother who is not competent to make any decisions regarding his care. So if you want a significant other, I guess you're looking at her."

He grinned at her. "Well said." He flipped open the chart in his hand. "Ok. Although he has an open scalp lac, there has been no real damage to his skull, so his injury is being classified as a closed head trauma. Now, his CT is ok…I don't see any real damage to his brain. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Unfortunately, no. He went into a burning house after a little boy who was trapped in there. That's all I can tell you."

"Did he get the little boy?"

She smiled. "Yes. He did."

He nodded, a small smile on his face. "They've noted some burns and serious smoke inhalation. Anyway, as I was saying, there is no notable organic damage, although he has most certainly sustained a moderate to severe concussion. Was he conscious at all?"

"Yes, he came out of the house under his own power."

"And he seemed ok?"

"Yes."

He nodded again. "All right then. I'll come by to see him after he regains consciousness. I'm going to order him admitted for observation." He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a card. "Here's my card, if you have any questions."

"Uh, doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Bobby would have understood everything you just told me, but I'm not as…well-versed as he is in medical jargon. Without talking to me like I'm a toddler, can you tell me in layman's terms what you just said?"

He smiled at her, appreciating her spunk and candor. "Of course. I apologize. Robert's CT scan was good. There is no evidence that his brain was damaged beyond what normally occurs with a concussion. My guess is that after he regains consciousness, after a brief recovery, he should be fine."

She smiled. "Thank you, Dr. Barrett."

"Will you be staying here with him…" He looked at the chart. "Ms. Eames?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll talk with you later."

She nodded and he left the cubicle. She resumed her bedside vigil at her unconscious partner's bedside. By the time they were ready to transfer him upstairs, he had still not regained consciousness.