He walked down to the waterline and headed north. The crash of the breakers on the beach was comforting. The tide was heading out. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and again gave his mind free rein. As he expected, it drifted to her. He really couldn't go on like this. What the hell had Annie been thinking? He had been perfectly content to ignore his feelings, keeping them suppressed and under control. But how well under control were they? If she could see that his heart lay elsewhere, then he must have just been fooling himself. Now he wondered just how good at hiding things he had been. His father's voice popped into his mind again. You're going to destroy everything you worked to build because of a damn woman. What the hell is wrong with you? But she wasn't just any woman. Not to him.

"Bobby?"

He froze. What the hell...? He was hearing things now. Damn...he really was losing his mind...

She watched him stop, and she knew what was going through his head when he didn't turn around. So she called his name again. This time he did turn.

He stood there staring at her. A whole range of emotions crossed his face in succession, but he had no idea how he felt, how he should feel. He was angry, but relieved...pleased, but disappointed. "I should have known you couldn't stay away."

"I was doing fine until you called me at two this morning."

"I didn't call you."

"Yes. You did."

He closed his eyes and let out his breath. What the hell was he doing, calling her at two in the morning, as drunk as he was...oh, shit..."What did I say?"

"Not a lot of anything that made any sense."

"And you're here because...?"

"Because you need me."

"I told you that?"

"You didn't have to."

He turned and started walking away from her. But she wasn't going to let him run away again. She trotted to his side and fell in step beside him. Used to matching his pace, she had no trouble keeping up with him. Long ago, she'd made a promise to herself that he would never have to slow down for her, not with his stride or in his mind. She remained silent and just walked at his side. She was intruding into his space; he would be the one to set the tone for their conversation.

He looked at her as she came to his side. She said nothing; she just walked with him. He didn't know what to say because he wasn't sure how he felt about her being here. She was right. He did need her. And he sure wasn't solving anything on his own. All he'd succeeded in doing was arguing with himself and getting drunk. Yeah, he'd gotten far. But how the hell was she going to be of any help? He couldn't tell her what was bothering him. "Um, did I tell you why I called you at two in the morning?"

"You wanted to say good night."

"Really? Well, I did tell you I'd call..." He was very unsure of himself right now. "Uh, what else did I say?"

"You told me that I was the one who was messing up your head."

He stopped. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

He squinted his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. "What else?"

She kept her voice matter-of-fact. "Nothing much. You said you were going to continue drinking because you still had beer left. Everything was spinning and you were feeling good. That's about it."

"Great."

"Oh, and you told me you loved me."

He stopped rubbing his head and looked at her, but she had turned away from him. She continued walking down the beach, leaving him standing there, looking after her with a look of incredulity on his face. No... He ran after her, leaning toward her as he walked backwards beside her, trying to see her face. "Please tell me I didn't."

"Why? Don't you?"

"Well, yes, uh, I mean, I...I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not? What possible harm can there be in telling someone that you love them? That's a good thing, Bobby. There's nothing wrong with love."

He grabbed her arm as he stopped and turned her to face him directly. "How can you say that? Eames, love can destroy...everything."

"Goren, you're an idiot." She pulled her arm from his and continued walking. She had no doubt he would follow. He was committed to the discussion now, and he was going to be sure she heard him out. And if he thought she was annoyed with him, which she was, so much the better.

Sure enough, he appeared at her side again. "Why? Why am I an idiot?"

He was getting irritated, but she was already there. "Why?" she asked. Stopping, she turned to face him and gave him a hard shove. He stumbled backwards toward the surf and she advanced on him. "Did you ask me why? Look around you. We shouldn't be here! We should be home, sitting in a warm living room and talking about this. But no! You have to freak out and take off, worrying the shit out of me and refusing to tell me what's wrong. That's bullshit, Bobby." She poked her finger into his chest with each word, driving home her point and getting angrier with each word. "That's not how you treat your best friend!"

She was furious now. Slamming her hands into his chest, she put all her weight and all her anger into shoving him as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards into the surf, lost his balance and fell into the water. She just stood there, shocked. As he scrambled to his feet, though, she overcame her shock and, covering her mouth with both hands, she started laughing. He glared at her, but his face softened when she began to laugh. Still, he was not going to be the only one who was wet. She backed away as he started for her. "Oh, no you don't..." she started. But he kept coming, so she turned and ran. He caught her in a few strides, grabbing her around the waist. "Bobby, don't! Come on, it's October, not July!"

But he wasn't listening. He dragged her into the water as she struggled against his hold. "I'm going to kill you, Goren."

He carried her into the churning surf and let her go. She disappeared under a breaking wave, surfacing a few yards away. Furious, she waded toward him through the water. "You stupid moose!"

He caught her as she ran into him, intent on doing something to let him know just how angry she was, although her brain did not plan out what her five-foot-three self could do to his six-foot-four bulk. She slammed two fists into his chest, but he grabbed her and pulled her into him, trapping her arms against his torso. So she kicked him. He grunted, but did not loosen his grip. "You are so dead," she growled, struggling against him as the waves crashed around them.

She looked up into his face, fulling intending to read him the riot act, but every angry thought and word slipped from her mind when she suddenly found his lips pressed against hers. She caught her breath and her brain short-circuited; she stopped struggling. She could feel his body trembling against hers, and something told her it wasn't from the cold. When he pulled his head back, breaking the kiss, she looked at him, cold, wet and confused. "What is going on with you?" she asked. That was the last thing she would have expected him to do.

He shook his head. "I have no idea."

Then he kissed her again, releasing her arms, which she slid around his neck. Slowly she pulled back from his embrace, and he let her go. She stared at him. He looked...defeated. Dripping wet, standing in the crashing surf and shivering, they continued looking at each other. "Can we go back to the motel?" she asked. "I am freezing my ass off here and we need to talk."

He just nodded mutely. They left the surf and headed back toward the motel, walking in silence. She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away. So she left him alone.

They returned to his room. He handed her a t-shirt and gave her a gentle push toward the bathroom. "Go take a hot shower," he said softly.

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're going to be here when I come out, aren't you?"

"I won't go anywhere," he replied.

She didn't like the look on his face. "Bobby..."

"Go on."

He turned and went out onto the balcony. She took a quick shower and came out of the bathroom wearing only his shirt. She slid the balcony door open. "Bobby?"

He turned to look at her, and she couldn't interpret the look on his face. But he didn't say anything. He was shivering from the cold, so she grabbed his arm and gently pulled him into the room. "You're going to get pneumonia. Go shower and warm up."

He let his eyes linger on her face. "Um, I wouldn't complain if you weren't here when I came out."

"Don't be an ass. I'll be here."

He shrugged, grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom. She sat down on the bed. She knew him well enough to know why he was acting the way he was. He came here to sort through his feelings, to try to find a way to deal with his attraction to her, his love for her. He was failing miserably at that, and he was giving up. It was up to her to help him find a way to cope, to reassure him and let him know that everything was ok. Frustrated, she stacked the pillows against the headboard and, pulling the blanket over her, she sat against them, waiting.