She pulled out of her parents' driveway and headed out of the development. He sat quietly, looking out the window at the quiet suburban community they were passing through on the way home. She kept glancing toward him, but he remained still and silent. Silent, she could handle; he was usually thinking. Still, though...Bobby was never still. "Hey," she said quietly.

He turned his head toward her. "Hmm? Something wrong?"

"I was wondering the same thing."

"Why?"

"Because you're just...sitting there. You don't just sit, Bobby."

He laughed softly. "I'm fine, Eames."

"Tired or drunk?"

"A little of both. Today was...a good day."

"Do you have many of those?"

Every day he got to spend with her was a good day. "Outside of work? Not too many."

"You can't tell me that a day spent chasing our tails on a homicide investigation is a better day than one spent relaxing at home in a hot bath with a nice glass of wine."

He laughed, a genuine laugh of real amusement. "I can honestly say I have never spent a day like that. I have good days. Just not many of them."

"Ok, I'll bite. What is a good day for you?"

He thought about that. How many good days did he have that did not involve her? "Well, I'd say a day hanging out with Lewis working on cars is a good day." He smiled fondly. "Lewis is a lot of fun."

She nodded. "I like Lewis. I think he's my favorite of your buddies."

"He'd be happy to hear that. He likes you, too."

"I know he does," she said with a smile. "What else?"

"Sometimes a good day is just walking in the park, watching kids playing on the playground or chasing each other around on the grass." He looked at her. "Or hanging out with my partner without the shadows of a case hanging over us."

She felt her face color, and she wasn't sure why. She enjoyed his company, too. She decided not to touch that one and steered the conversation toward children, which should be a safe subject. "Why do you watch kids playing?"

He sighed and leaned his head back. "Because they're innocent, Eames. The world hasn't taken that away from them yet. They can still run and laugh and be happy."

"That got taken from you early," she said softly.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. But it got taken from you late."

She almost felt guilty. "I'm sorry."

He sat up a little straighter and leaned his head to the side to see her face better. "Why? What are you apologizing for? Don't apologize because you had a good childhood and I didn't. I'm glad you were happy as a kid. Kids should be happy, Eames. They should be like your nieces and nephews, and their parents should protect them from the world as long as they can."

"The world is a harsh place, Bobby, and kids need to be prepared for it."

"You can prepare kids for life without destroying them." He kept his gaze trained on her face. "Tell me you weren't prepared for the world when you left home."

"I'm not every kid. My dad was a cop. We learned that the world can be a terrible place where people do horrible things to each other."

"And you still had a happy childhood. That's what I'm talking about."

"How will you make your kids happy?"

He sat back and looked away, withdrawing from her. "I...I don't know. But I'll tell you one thing--they would never, ever doubt that I loved them."

"You doubted?"

"Every single day. Memories of love in my childhood are distant shadows in a dreamworld I'm not sure ever existed. I could never do that to a kid. If I couldn't love them...well, I would never have kids to start with if there was any question."

"But you can love them," she said softly. "You have it in you to be a great dad."

"Even for those two a.m. feedings?"

"Especially for those two a.m. feedings. I..." She stopped suddenly. What the hell was she doing, imagining being a parent, with him? Not that it would be a bad thing, but the fact that it would never happen would make such imaginings painful.

"What, Eames?"

"Nothing."

He frowned. She had been about to say something. Had he done something to make her withdraw? He leaned toward her, bringing his face close to the side of her head. "You said I'll find her; maybe I already have. What did you mean by that?"

His breath caressed her cheek. The scent of his cologne mixed with his own natural scent and the beer still on his breath sent an odd shiver through her body. She forced herself to keep her attention on the road, but his closeness was making that harder and harder. She slid the car to the curb on an empty stretch of street and turned her head to speak. But no words would come. She became trapped by smoldering dark eyes under heavy lids, overwhelmed by the closeness, drawn by...him. When her lips touched his, she felt a tremendous release of tension she had never realized was there and an overpowering desire to step it up, to give herself to him...

But he pulled back, leaning against the door, confused. What the hell had just happened? "I...uh, Eames..."

She leaned closer. "If you apologize, I swear to God, Bobby, I'll shoot you."

He clamped his mouth shut. She shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. He didn't say another word. She pulled up to his building and waited. He tipped his head forward. "Are-are you ok?"

"I'm fine." She looked at him. "I'm not sorry," she whispered. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Are you sure? I mean, if you want to come up, you know, for coffee...uh, to talk..."

She knew if she went with him, very little talking would get done. "I can't. We can talk tomorrow."

He sighed. "Whatever you want. Good night, Eames."

She watched him walk to the building and disappear inside before she pulled away from the curb.