When Eames returned to the floor, Foster was waiting for her at the nurse's station. She looked at him, her face unreadable. But her voice was soft. "How is he?"

He shook his head. "Not good. He's furious, but he doesn't quite know where to focus that anger."

"So he chose you."

"You do know him well."

She nodded. "I never wanted to hurt him."

"I know. But he really gave you no choice."

"If he chooses to turn back in to himself, I don't know what I'll do. I…I don't know if I can leave him. I have too much invested in him."

"That's up to you."

"I love him, very much, but I'm not going to let him use me."

"I don't know him as well as you do, but I don't think he is using you, except maybe as a buffer from the world." She thought about that for a minute, and it did make sense, but she never minded protecting him from others. Foster sighed. "I know what I told you earlier, but maybe you will have to walk away, Alex."

"Didn't you say that would destroy him...and me?"

"I did, and I haven't changed my opinion, but it's all up to him, and I told him that. So if you stay or if you go, the choice is his. Don't feel guilty. You made your choice."

"I just want him to invest himself in me, like I have in him."

"I know. What is your heart telling you?"

"I don't know. It's hurting too damn bad to say much of anything right now."

He smiled sympathetically. "Go talk to him. Right now you're the only person in the world he wants to see."

"I would say thank you if I wasn't so angry with you."

"I understand. I'm going home now, but you can call me if you need me." He handed her a card. "That's my home number on the back. Don't be shy if you really need to talk."

She slipped the card into her pocket and headed down the hall.

She pushed the door open and walked into the room. He wasn't in the bed. She heard movement in the bathroom, so she waited. When the door opened and he came out, he was fully dressed. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. She studied him. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"I was going to find you."

"I told you I'd be back."

"I…" he trailed off.

"You didn't believe me."

"No."

"I've never lied to you, Bobby."

He walked across the room and leaned on the window sill, looking out across the city. He wished he was a bird, or a bug, or a bat, anything that could just fly away and never have to deal with all this…confusion...emotion...pain.

"Have you made your choice?"

He nodded, but he didn't turn. He still wanted to fly away. A bat never had to open itself up to what he was about to. When her hands came to rest on his back, he jumped away from her, as though she had physically hurt him. He turned to face her, and he saw a kaleidoscope of emotion churning across her face. He felt the same way. "Is Foster still out there?"

"No, he went home. Why?"

"This is all his fault and I want to pound him."

"Want to, but won't. You're not a violent man. And it's not his fault. I want this answer from you, so blame me if you have to blame anyone."

He frowned, and she again saw the little boy in him. "I'm not going to pound you."

"Will you sit down, please?"

"I…I can't." He was pacing the room, too agitated to settle into a chair.

"I am not going to chase you around the room, Bobby."

He ran his hand over his hair, letting it come to rest on his neck. He stuck his other hand in the pocket of his jeans. "I…I…you were right. I-I've never done this before. I…I hope I can do it right."

"This isn't like baking a cake. There is no right or wrong way to do it."

"I-I…know how to protect myself. It's what I've always done. But I don't…know how to do...what you're asking me to do. I…I'm not using you. I would…never do that. Not to you." He leaned toward her, bending at the waist, head tilted, to catch her eyes. "I do…want you."

She raised her eyes to meet his, reading more in his eyes, and in his hesitancy, than she'd been able to read in him for a very long time. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"With you…yes."

"You're going to stop hiding from me?"

"I…I'm 44 years old, Eames. I've been keeping myself…inside all that time. I can't swear I won't retreat…sometimes. But I'll try. I promise you that."

"That's all I ask." She leaned forward and gently kissed his lips. He closed his eyes, raising his hand to her cheek.

He stepped back, reluctantly. Again, he tilted his head and looked at her, trying to get an idea of what she was thinking and feeling. She sighed, knowing what he wanted. "I feel good about this. What about you?"

There was that pensive look. Well, she guessed it was a good thing he was considering his answer. "Yes," he said after a short while of searching his feelings. He was looking for the unrest that was always a part of his emotional self, but he couldn't find it. That, he decided, was a very good thing, and it was all because of her.