He came out of the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, wearing a t-shirt and sweats. He leaned against the wall and looked at her. She looked back at him. He asked, "When did you get here?"

"About five this morning."

"Where are you staying?"

"Nearby. I'm not leaving you until we get this worked out. I have to know you're ok."

"I'm fine, Eames. You can go if you want to. At least get some clothes on."

"I'm good for the moment. What are the chances of you still being here if I leave the room?"

"I was here when you came out of the shower."

"Answer the question."

"I'd rather not."

She glared at him, but he didn't say anything more. He was not making this easy, not that she expected him to. As much as this had obviously disturbed him, he was not going to talk about it readily with anyone. Softly, she said, "Why did you run away?"

He averted his eyes from hers. "I...I was overwhelmed. I had to...get away..."

"From?"

He raised his eyes without lifting his head. "You, Eames."

"Come over here and sit down."

He hesitated, but then he walked around the bed and sat down in the chair beside the table. She let out an annoyed sigh, but she didn't say anything. That would have to do for now. She settled herself deeper into the pillows, pulling the blanket closer around her and hugging her legs. She rested her chin on her knees and focused her eyes on him. Arms resting on his knees, he sat forward on the chair, eyes focused on the floor. "What am I going to do with you?" she said, her voice gentle.

His head dropped a little lower, shoulders slumped a little more. He sighed softly, but he didn't answer her. "Would you look at me, Bobby? I don't want to talk to the top of your head." He shook his head. "Either you look at me, or I lay down on the floor and look up at you."

He lifted his head and looked at her. "Why would you do that?"

"So I can see your face."

"And that's important?"

"You know it is. I am damn tired of you hiding from me and I'm not going to let you get away with it any more. Bobby, we are partners, and when something bothers one of us, it affects both of us. But more than partners, we are friends. It hurts me to see you like this and I want to help you. We can work this out, you know."

"How do you know that? Huh? How can you know we can work this out when you don't even know what's wrong?"

"How do you know I don't know what's wrong?"

That made him stop. Could she...? "I...I never told you..."

"Words are not the only way you communicate. You know that, genius. And you are not the only person I talk to."

"Uh, you...did you talk to Annie again?"

"Yes, I did. I wanted to know what set you off, and you yourself told me it was something she said."

"Um...what did she tell you?"

Eames sighed heavily and threw off the blanket. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward him. "She told me exactly what she said to send you off into such an emotional spiral. And she knew it would, Bobby. She was hurt because you couldn't do anything more than be with her. She never had your heart, and that made her angry. So she hurt you back, with words."

"What did she tell you, Eames?" This time he wanted to know, so he would know if she was indeed aware of exactly what his problem was.

"She said your relationship was too crowded and you were too complicated for her. That she was tired of sharing you."

"Well, yeah, she said all that..."

She looked directly into his face, catching and holding his gaze. "She told you to call her if you ever got over me."

She saw the color drain from his face as he averted his eyes and she knew that was it. "I, um, I thought I had gotten over you," he muttered, almost under his breath.

She studied him, taking in his posture, his unwillingness to hold her gaze. "Why are you giving up?"

He got up and moved away from her. "I'm not..."

"Do not lie to me. I can see it, Bobby. I see it in your eyes and the way you're carrying yourself. You taught me how to read body language. Talk to me."

He wasn't going to argue with her any more. He'd tell her what she wanted to know, whether she was ready to hear it or not. "I...I'm tired, Eames. I'm tired of fighting and I'm tired of hurting. I...I don't know what...what to do, how to fix it or even just make it...better. I was always...alone inside. I never invested myself in anyone...because I know what happens when you do that. And I wasn't going to set myself up for that kind of pain ever again." He leaned a hand against the wall by the balcony and looked at the door, even though he could only see the room reflected back in the glass. "I was ok with being alone. I didn't mind being alone. And it didn't hurt after awhile. So it was good...for me. Call me a coward if you will, but it hurt less to be alone than it did to open myself to anyone. I could play the game, and I always played it very well. I guess I'm more like my dad than I thought I was. Sex isn't love, and I never thought it would be. It's all just a fucking game." And it was a game he would never win, no matter how well he played.

"But something happened." She'd never seen him as a player, and it disturbed her to hear him compare himself to his father. He may never have let anyone into his heart, but his warmth and concern for the feelings of others was not an act. He was overstating his tendency toward remoteness, but that was something she would deal with later. There were other issues to be handled first.

He could hear the tightness in her voice, and he knew she was near tears. He didn't want that...but he didn't know how to explain this to her in a way that sounded good. It wasn't good, and he couldn't put a positive spin on it. "Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You happened." He rested his head against the cool glass. "God help me, Eames. You came along, and you didn't run screaming in the other direction after our first homicide. After the first year, I began to think maybe you were going to stay after all. Maybe you were the one cop in the department who would put up with me...who could put up with me. And you know what? You are."

"But that's not what happened."

"No. It's not." He wasn't sure he could continue. He just wanted to...he didn't even know what he wanted to do, but having this conversation was not it. "I, uh, I think I need some air."

"Go out on the balcony. You are not running away from me again."

Away from her...he was never away from her. She was with him all the time because he carried her in his heart. "I fell in love, Eames," he said in a rush. "That's what happened. I fell in love with my partner." He said it as if he couldn't believe it had happened. His anger at himself allowed the words to continue tumbling from his mouth, before he could stop them. "But I've been pushing those feelings away and pretending that they don't exist. I won't lose you. I need you as my partner a hell of a lot more than I need you in my goddam bed. I will never put our partnership at risk, because there is no other partner out there for me. I can always find someone for my bed...if I want to...but I doubt I'll ever find another partner. Not one like you." He rubbed the back of his neck, still refusing to look at her. "I-I'm sorry for kissing you. I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me." He swallowed hard. "I...I think I'll take that air now."

He slid the door open and stepped into the cold night air, closing the door behind him. He leaned his arms on the railing and hung his head. There it was, all out in the open. If she had a mind to kick him while he was down, she'd never get another opportunity like this one. There was no person on the planet with the ability to totally destroy him except the petite woman he had just left in his motel room. His parents had tried, wittingly or not, to destroy him all his life, and he had come out on top. But if Eames wanted to do it, he would never survive. And now the ball was in her court...and so was he.

She watched him step through the door and lean against the railing. Everything about his posture told her he was done. He wasn't giving up any more; he had already quit. He had just placed everything in her hands. What she said and what she did now was probably more important than anything that had ever happened in his life. In a way she resented him for putting her in this position, but she also understood the supreme trust he was placing in her. He knew she could destroy him and he trusted her to care enough about him not to do it. He had to know, on some level, that she did love him.

She crossed the room and opened the door, stepping out onto the balcony with him. "I do forgive you, Bobby," she said quietly. "I forgive you for saying you're sorry. Now I never, ever want you to apologize again for kissing me or for loving me. Ok? That's not something you should apologize for, at least not to me. Got it?"

He nodded mutely. She stepped up to the railing beside him and leaned against it. "I can't tell you how many times I have jumped back and forth from wanting to smack the shit out of you to wanting to just grab onto you and hold you and never let you go. And that was just this week." She sighed. "I swear to you I don't want anything to happen to our partnership either." She paused, quietly looking at his face and trying unsuccessfully to read his expression. "Look, if neither of us wants to put the partnership in jeopardy, why would we? I don't want a different partner. I love being your partner and I'm used to you; we work well together. We like each other and we're in sync with each other. That doesn't happen often. So you can relax. Nothing you have said or done has threatened us."

He seemed reassured. His shoulders relaxed and he let out a heavy sigh. She let herself smile, then she said, "So what do we do about our problem?"

A look of utter confusion settled onto his face. "We have another problem?"

"Another problem? Are you looking for more trouble? Being partners was never our problem. That's the one thing we have done right and done well. We have a bigger problem."

"We do?"

"Ok, I'm back to wanting to smack you. You're being an idiot again. Why do you think all of this is one-sided? All week long, you have been so self-absorbed you haven't given me a second thought."

"A second thought? Eames, you are all I have thought about all damn week."

"I don't doubt that, but you've been obsessing about how you feel. It's not all about you, Bobby. What about me? Does how I feel even count?"

"Of course it does. I..." He trailed off and she watched his mind catch up with hers. "How do you feel?"

"Gee, thanks for asking." She turned away from him and went back into the room. She was freezing and if he really wanted to know how she felt, he could follow her into the room and she would give him his answer in the warmth and comfort of the indoors.

She knew he wouldn't leave it hanging. "Eames?"

She finally looked at him from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Why is it so hard for you to imagine that I might love you back?"

He looked as though she had just punched him. His mind went blank and he had no idea what to say. She was right. He hadn't thought about that, and he had no explanation for why. "I...I never thought..."

He trailed off and she shook her head at him. "That's right, idiot. You didn't think. Geez, Bobby, I've seen a leaf blowing in the wind make you think. But now, when it really matters, your brain goes on vacation." She patted the mattress beside her. "Come over here."

She waited patiently for him to decide to cross the room and sit beside her. He was tense and he wouldn't face her, but she let that go for now. He'd relax soon enough. "You drive me nuts, Goren. But you make it worth the frustration." She continued to watch him. He was slumped over, with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. When she remained silent, he turned his head to look at her. She reached out and touched his cheek with her fingertips. "You are sweet and kind and usually considerate, and dammit, I love you, too. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I can no longer imagine loving anyone else. Bobby, without you in my life, I'd die of boredom...and a broken heart." Her fingers strayed across his chest. "You think about that, ok? Put everything into perspective and hash it all out. Get your head on straight." Now he needed time alone, to digest what she'd just told him. "As soon as you realize that we can do this and that it will only make our partnership stronger, then you come and talk to me. I'm in room 206."

She got up and grabbed her pile of clothes from the bathroom. Stopping at the door, she looked back at him. He looked exactly like he didn't know what to think or how to feel. Quietly, she said, "You're not alone in this, and you never have been. It's time you realized that. I'll be waiting." She left the room.