Eames glanced at her partner as she drove toward the veterinary emergency room the department used for its K-9 unit. There was no way she'd get him to agree to be seen at any ER until the dog was well taken care of. Stubborn idiot. He was looking out the window, right arm tight against his abdomen, left hand, still trembling, pressed against his mouth. She wondered if he wasn't settling into shock, physical and emotional. She wouldn't be surprised if he was. "Bobby?"

"What?"

He answered right away; that was a good sign. "What happened back there?"

"Do we have to talk about it now?"

"Yes. I have to know. I've never seen you like that before. You scared me."

"I scared myself. I've been close to the edge, Eames, but I've never been that close."

"What was it...? What pushed you to the edge?"

"A combination of things. The victims and...what he did to them, Barry's family, the...connection I made...between the perp...and my dad..." He trailed off, his voice shaking, the trembling in his body worsening. "But it was...the cologne...and...the memories it triggered that...did me in."

"Because of your dad."

He fidgeted uncomfortably, twisting his hands together in front of him. Bingo. She knew she'd hit it. He looked out the window. She reached over and laid her hand on his arm. "Don't you dare shut down on me. Talk to me. Let me know the competition, Bobby."

"C-competition?"

"Yes. I know you struggle with your own demons, and this demon almost took you away from me. I don't want that to happen again. So talk to me. Tell me what upset you so badly, where this all came from. I need to understand."

He was very quiet for a long moment. He wasn't sure how much he wanted her to know. His childhood had been nothing like hers. She had an idea of how it had been, but her ideas and his reality were worlds apart. In drawing those worlds closer, he couldn't get rid of the fear he might drive her away. He chose his words very carefully. "Old Spice," he mumbled softly. "That's what my dad wore. I have no fond memories of that scent. And when he'd come home late... He never tried to hide it. At the time, all I knew was that it upset my mom. So I'd defend her. That wasn't the thing to do, but I'd try. Every damn time." He shifted in the seat. "We've both had a hard time with this case, Eames, but somehow that scent made it more...personal to me. All the anger and hate from the past...collided with the anger and frustration of the case...and...I don't know...something finally snapped."

He could talk about it...that was a good sign. There was one more thing that troubled her, one more answer she needed. "Bobby, would you have pulled that trigger?"

"I don't know. I can't answer that." He shifted again. "But I do know one thing. The day that you can't reach me is the day I'll never come back."

She heard the tremor in the deep breath he took as he pressed his head against the window, closing his eyes. She glanced at him. He was agitated and restless, the way he always got when he was troubled, but he had no way to exert that energy sitting in the car. She understood now what had happened and felt reassured. He would be ok; she'd make sure of that. As always, she would take care of her partner. She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh, and he let her. She was relieved to feel his muscles relax a little under her hand.

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She pulled up to the veterinary hospital. "Do you want me to take him in?"

He shook his head. "I'll do it. But if you want to come along..."

She opened her door without hesitation. He almost smiled as he got out of the car and opened the back door for King. The shepherd jumped out of the car, yelping when his front legs hit the ground. He circled to Goren's side when the big cop dropped to a knee and Eames watched as he buried his face in King's ruff. She knew he blamed himself for the dog's injury. She walked over to them and reached out to him, lightly caressing the back of his neck above the collar of his t-shirt. He took an unsteady breath and she could still feel the tremble in his body under her fingers. He looked up at her, keeping his eyes on hers as he stood. Her lips curved into a small smile of reassurance and they went into the building.

A technician came into the reception area, stopping in her tracks when she saw the two detectives, taking in Goren's bloody arm and pale face. "Uh, this is a veterinary hospital."

Annoyed, Goren slid his badge off his belt and nodded at the dog. "He was shot tonight, during a shootout with a suspect."

"Bring him right back."

They followed her into an exam room, and a doctor joined them right away. Goren leaned back against the wall, waiting. Eames stepped up beside him, leaning her arm against his. The vet looked up at them. He nodded at Goren's bloody arm. "Looks like you need some attention, too, detective."

Eames answered, "We're heading there next. He wanted to make sure King is ok first."

"King will be fine, but I'm going to have to put him under to get the bullet out. He's a healthy dog?"

"Yes."

"You should be able to pick him up tomorrow. Has he eaten in the last ten or so hours?" Goren shook his head. "Then we'll get right on it and do the surgery now."

"Make sure you take good care of him." His voice carried a tone that was half directive, half plea.

"Don't worry about him. You go get your injuries taken care of."

Goren stepped up to the table and leaned over the dog. King licked the side of his face and whimpered. "Be a good dog. I'll see you tomorrow."

The same technician met them in the hallway. "I'll need some information before you leave."

Goren pulled his card from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to her. "His name is King. He's seven years old and he's healthy. I'll be responsible for the bill. Call me if anything comes up."

She nodded. "Thank you, detective."

They headed back out to the car. "You must really be feeling badly," Eames observed.

"I am," he answered as he slid into the car. "Uh, why did you say that?"

"You're not your usual charming self."

"Oh. Sorry."

She studied him. "Let's get you to the hospital. You really don't look good."

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She called Deakins when they got to the hospital. "What's going on, Alex? I've heard eight different versions of what happened. Who shot the guy?"

"Stabler did."

"And Goren?"

"He took a bullet in the arm, and King took a bullet for him that would probably have killed him."

"Nice. I need to hire that dog. How is he?"

"We took him to the same vet the K-9s go to. They say he'll be ok."

"Where were you when this all went down? You don't normally trust anyone else to back up your partner, and I can't believe you'd trust Stabler of all people."

"We were doing our jobs. Benson and I were processing the scene. Goren and Stabler followed the dog after the perp. We got there shortly after the shooting ended. Elliot did a good job, Captain."

"I heard that Goren looked rough when you guys left. Is he ok?"

"Not at the moment, but I think he will be. We're at the hospital now, but we can come in later, if you need us."

"No. Bellevue reports they took the guy into surgery and he won't be 'receptive to interviewing' until late tomorrow, maybe. Will you two be up to it by then?" He knew they worked as a team. One never did as well without the other; her maternity leave had proven that beyond all doubt.

"We should be."

"Then I'll have Logan and Barek handle anything that comes up today and I'll see you two tomorrow. Call me and let me know what the doctor says."

"I will."

She closed the phone and looked at her partner, who was watching her. "The suspect won't be ready to be questioned until tomorrow. Logan and Barek can handle whatever comes up today and you are going inside to see a doctor. Sound like a plan?"

"I have a choice?"

"Did I give you that impression? Move it, Goren."

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Three hours later, they left the hospital. His arm was bandaged and in a sling, and she was annoyed with him. They wanted to admit him, to get the bullet out of his arm, but he refused. He wanted a chance to interview the suspect and he was not going to give it up. Three doctors tried to convince him to stay, to no avail. And he refused to let her say a word on the subject. He knew that if anyone could make him do something he didn't want to do, she could. He threatened to get up and walk out of the ER, leaving her there, if she didn't drop the subject. So she let him have it his way, for now, after getting him to swear he would let them do the surgery once he had a chance to interrogate their suspect. After giving him an injecton of a mild sedative to help him settle down, the doctor gave him two pill bottles--one had a stronger sedative in it to help him sleep, the other had pain medicine--and a written prescription for antibiotics, and he let them leave with the promise of returning within two days to get his gunshot wound properly cared for.

She didn't say anything from the time they left the hospital until she parked the car, and he didn't have it in him any more to try to draw her into a conversation. But he knew she was annoyed, and when she parked outside her apartment, he looked at her. "You could just drop me off at my place, you know?"

"Bobby, it's been a long, hard night and we're both exhausted. You've refused medical treatment..."

"No, Eames..." He held up a finger. "I didn't refuse treatment. I just postponed it."

"Semantics. Look, just let me take care of you, ok?"

He studied her face for a minute before he finally got out of the car. He was still agitated and unsettled, and the last thing he wanted was to fight with his partner. He didn't know where that would lead, but wherever it was, he knew for certain he didn't want to go there. She came around the car and followed him into the building.

She tossed her keys on a small table near the door. "Give me those pill bottles."

"You going to take them?"

"No, ass. You are."

"I thought you weren't mad any more."

"I'm not, but I'm going to be if you give me any grief about taking that sedative."

"What? If you knock me out I can't argue with you?"

She walked up to him and grabbed his hand. "Look at you. You're still shaking. The doctor said you need this and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I was there, remember?"

"Now you're being irritable. Give me the damn pill bottles or I'll get them myself."

He looked at her, tipping his head to the side. "You'd do that?"

"You want to try me?"

For the first time in days, it seemed, he smiled at her. "Another time, I would take you up on it." He shoved his hand in his pocket and handed her the bottles.

She gave him an odd look and took the bottles from his hand. "Sit down, Bobby." She went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. She looked at the two pill bottles. One had half a dozen pills, the other had one. She opened the bottle with the single pill and dumped it into her hand, setting the other aside. "Here you go."

"Really, I feel better. I just need some sleep..."

"And this will help you get it. Now take it. And swallow it, Bobby."

With a sigh of resignation, he put the pill in his mouth and took a drink. She stood there with her hands on her hips, frowning. "I took it, Eames. Don't look at me like that."

She eased herself onto the couch beside him. "Are you really feeling better?"

He nodded. "I feel...okay now."

"That shot must be working by now. Do you want something to eat?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." He rested his head back, then turned to look at her. "But if you want to eat, go ahead."

She reached her hand toward him, touching his temple with her fingertips. He tensed for a second, then closed his eyes. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry, Eames."

She slid her fingers into his hair and he leaned toward her. "Sorry? For what?"

He sighed, settling himself against her. He was no longer trembling. "This was already a difficult case. I...I'm afraid I didn't help matters any, did I?"

She pressed her lips against his head. "It's ok."

"Is it?" He lifted his head and turned so he could see her face. "Is it really ok?"

A big, tough cop with the vulnerability of a little boy, a vulnerability he allowed no one to see. No one, except her. It was a special privelege, she knew, seeing this side of him. And that more than made up for the side she saw earlier. She slid her hand along the side of his face, and she liked the feel of his whiskers against her palm. "Yes, Bobby. It really is ok."

She leaned closer and gently kissed him, easing his upper body down against her legs. She could feel the tension fade from his body as he relaxed. When she sat back, he opened his eyes halfway. "Why did you...do that?" he asked, tentatively.

"Because I wanted to," she answered, and she knew it was the right answer.

He touched her lips with his fingers. "Thank you," he whispered. His eyelids were heavy, and she knew the sedative, along with everything else, was catching up to him. It would hit him like a freight train...but he didn't care...because she was there to catch him when he faltered.

He didn't fight it. He let everything slide away, but before he drifted off, he slid an arm around her and held her close. He wasn't going to let her go...because he needed her.

She slid her body down until his head was resting on her chest, curving the rest of her body around him. His arm tightened around her and he sighed in his sleep. And, finally able to let go of the stress that had kept her body in its grip like a vice, she also went to sleep.