He tried to turn over, but he couldn't. Slowly, as awareness returned, he realized why. There was a warm, soft body tangled with his own. He searched his memory, trying to figure out why she was there, and, slowly, his mind kicked into gear and he did remember. And with his memory, came another awareness, of pain. He tried to move his injured arm, but it wouldn't cooperate, and the little movement he did manage sent a flare of pain shooting through to his shoulder, across his chest and up into his head. He groaned.

His soft moan of pain woke her. She shifted her hips against him and reached her hand up to caress his cheek. "Are you ok?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah, sure," he whispered, not willing to disturb or worry her.

She started to drift off again, and he tried hard to suppress another moan, but he couldn't quite manage it. "Bobby, what's wrong?"

"Wrong? Not a thing," he said softly.

"Does it hurt?"

"You've been shot before. What do you think?"

"Right," she replied. "Stupid question. Sorry."

She softly kissed his head and disentangled herself from him. She got up and went into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a pill bottle. He didn't fuss at all when she handed him the medicine. She rested her arm on the back of the couch, letting her fingers lightly touch his temple. "Hungry?" she asked.

He wasn't really, but he knew if he told her that she'd fuss, since he hadn't eaten anything since sometime the day before. He just shrugged, noncommitally. She chose to read that as an affirmative. "Coffee?"

"Ok."

He slowly sat up, taking the medicine, then resting his head against the back of the couch and closing his eyes again. His arm was hurting badly enough to push any roaming thoughts from his mind. When her lips softly brushed his temple, he forced his eyes open. She handed him a sandwich and a cup of coffee as she sat beside him. "Thanks, Eames."

"Is it that bad?"

He hesitated, but he knew she'd know he was lying if he said it wasn't. "Yeah, it is."

"You really should..."

"Please, don't," he muttered, cutting her off. He rested his hand lightly on her thigh. "I know how you feel and I understand. But it's not gonna happen. Not until this interrogation is done. Ok?" When she didn't answer or look at him, he leaned closer, bringing his lips close to her ear. "Please understand, Eames. It's not going to be an easy interrogation for any of us, but I have to do it, and I don't want to put it off."

"You're not going to be at your best."

"For sure, but that can't be helped. You'll be there to back me up, so I'll be fine. Stabler and Benson will be there, too. We'll get him."

"You're so damn stubborn, Goren."

"You've known that for years. Would you do me a favor?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "That depends on the favor."

"Would you please get me the number for the vet so I can check on King?"

"They said they'd call..." She trailed off. He was concerned about the dog. King was his responsibility, and he had a real affection for the animal. "Ok, hold on."

She got up and went to the kitchen. He heard her voice, but he was too distracted by his pain to even try paying attention to what she was saying. She returned and handed him the number on a piece of paper. She smiled. "I dated a K-9 officer, so it was easy to get," she said with a smile.

He looked at her, not sure what to make of the look on her face. He assumed she was teasing, but he wasn't up for the game. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this interrogation first?"

"I'm sure. Now stop trying to convince me otherwise."

"Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"

He looked at her. Then he laughed softly and, with his free arm, pulled her into a hug. "What would I do without you?" he said softly into her ear.

She wasn't sure how to answer that, or even if he really wanted an answer. So she didn't answer his question at all. "See how King's doing," she replied, moving to kiss his cheek. But he turned his head at the last second and her lips pressed against his. He brought his hand up and let his fingers touch her cheek. She let the kiss linger before she pulled back and looked at him oddly. "Why'd you do that?" she asked.

"Because I wanted to," he replied with a smile.

She returned his smile and got up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Hello, this is Detective Goren. I'm calling to check on my dog...That's right, King..." She stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching him. He nodded his head and finally said, "Ok, good...Right...I'll pick him up tomorrow morning. Thanks."

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's fine."

She watched him dial again, listening to his end of the conversation. She wasn't sure she liked what he was saying. He snapped the phone closed and put it on the coffee table. "Was that Deakins?'

He nodded. "The prints didn't bring a hit on any of our databases, but they matched the partials we have at all four of the scenes. We have no idea who he is. Carver is chomping at the bit to get this guy. He's out of surgery and they say he'll be ready for questioning tomorrow afternoon. We're going to have an audience. Both captains will be present and so will Carver and SVU's ADA, Novak."

"And after that..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You have a one-track mind, Eames."

She stepped around to the couch and sat beside him. "Yes, I do. The welfare of my partner," she answered, leaning closer. "And the health of my best friend."

He reached toward her and pulled her against his chest. "I'll be okay," he whispered into her hair. "You can take me back to St. Vincent's right after the interrogation. But I'd like you to do one thing for me."

"What's that?"

"Take care of King while I'm in the hospital."

"I can do that for you."

He kissed her temple and tightened his arm around her. "Stay at my place with him. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your landlord."

Nodding, she grabbed the remote from the coffee table and snuggled into his side as he sat back. She noticed that he was breathing a little easier, his body a little less tense. The pain was fading. She turned the television on, found a movie, and laid her arm across him. She never realized how much she really enjoyed being close to him.

He watched her get comfortable and he smiled. Having her beside him like this was...nice, really nice. He could easily get used to this. The pain in his arm was fading and his head no longer hurt. He was content. The upcoming interrogation faded from his mind, and, for a change, so did the case. All he cared about right now was the woman curled against his side and the fact that, in spite of all his issues, she did love him.