Awareness returned slowly and he braced himself in anticipation of the pain, but it never came. There was still pain, but nothing like it had been. Tentatively, he took a deep breath, and pain flared in his chest, but regular breathing was fairly comfortable. He shifted his weight in the bed, groaning softly, but he didn't feel as badly as he remembered feeling the last time he'd been conscious.
Opening his eyes, he squinted at the light. He couldn't move his right arm and he frowned at that. Turning his head to the right, his frown faded when he recognized the blonde head that rested on his arm. Slowly, he reached his other arm across his body and lightly rested it on her head. She stirred, sitting up suddenly as she remembered...
"Bobby?"
He smiled weakly. "Hi, Eames."
She studied his face, reaching out and resting her hand against his cheek. Her eyes filled with tears of relief. "Bobby, the next time your car breaks down, call me."
He laughed softly. "Bet on it."
He reached his hand up and lightly ran his fingers down the side of her face, along her jawline and up to her lips. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
She gently kissed his fingers. "Sorry for what? Unless you planted those bombs you have nothing to be sorry for."
He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. "But...I do..."
She saw the deep fatigue in his eyes. She lightly caressed his cheek. His eyes got heavier. "Rest," she said softly. "We'll talk later. We have time."
He swallowed, trying to force his eyes to stay open. "Eames..." he murmured. "...Love you."
She watched his eyes close, and she kissed his forehead. "I love you, too."
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When he woke again, he was no longer in Intensive Care. He looked around the room, confused. How long had he been out?
The door opened and Eames came in. "Well, hey there."
"I, uh, thought I was in the ICU."
"You were. But you've been improving and they saw no reason to keep you there."
He nodded, pushing himself up in the bed. He groaned when his chest felt like it was on fire. "Bobby?"
He held up his hand. "I'm ok. Just...broken ribs hurt...you know that."
"How's your gut feeling?"
"Sore...but a lot better. I...God, I felt so bad. I...know what it's like now...to be dying..."
"Bobby, don't..."
"Come over here, Eames. Sit down. We, uh, we need to talk."
"About what?"
"Please."
She crossed the room and started to sit in the chair, but he grabbed her arm. "No. Here." He indicated the bed beside him. "It's ok. I need contact."
She hesitated a moment more before she slid onto the bed beside him, facing him, and very gently rested her hand on his abdomen. He winced slightly and she started to pull away, but he encircled her hand with his and placed it back where it was. "It's ok." He sighed. "I apologized to you...do you know why?"
"For worrying me?" She couldn't think of another reason for him to be sorry. He'd done nothing wrong.
"Well, I am sorry for that, but that isn't why I apologized." He hadn't released her hand, and now he lightly caressed it with his thumb. He averted his eyes, watching her hand where it rested in his. "I, um, I was very selfish, Eames. It was not the time or the place to tell you..." His voice dropped. "...that I love you. I should have chosen a better place...like a nice restaurant, or even one of our apartments...not a subway tunnel. I couldn't even see you."
She rested her hand over his mouth. It never failed to amaze her, the things he felt guilty about. "Don't ramble, Goren. You are probably the least selfish person I know. Did you tell me because it would make you feel better, or because you thought it would make me feel better?"
"Does it matter?"
"Did it make you feel better?"
"No." Actually, it made him feel guilty. It would never have mattered to him if he had died not telling her--he would never have known. But he wanted her to know...and he had no idea why. It wouldn't have mattered to her either, if he had died leaving it unsaid. All it would have done was make her feel...worse. How could he have done that to her?
"It did make me feel better. So, yes, it matters."
He raised his eyes, looking at her for a long minute. "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, Eames."
"Bobby, how long have you known me? Have I ever told you what I thought you wanted to hear?"
He laughed softly, wincing at the pain that flared in his chest. "No. You never have. Not even when I asked you to."
"Ok, then. So, you weren't supposed to fall in love..."
"Not-not with you." It's ok, Bobby. It's a mistake we both made. "Um, do you really think it was a mistake?"
"You don't?"
He shifted his eyes away. "I-I think it was, um, unexpected. But a mistake...? No, Eames. A mistake is something...wrong...or regrettable...something that results from bad judgment or...or ignorance. It wasn't something I intended, but I-I don't regret it."
"If you don't regret it, why apologize?"
He seemed agitated. "I wasn't apologizing for falling in love. I was apologizing for the timing, for telling you when I did, and where. Not for what I told you."
She reached out and gently stroked the side of his face. "Shhh...calm down," she whispered. Leaning closer, she gently kissed him. He closed his eyes, his hand touching her cheek as she whispered, "Mistake or not, it's something we both did. I don't regret it either."
He slid his hand behind her head and drew her closer again, so he could kiss her...
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He adjusted his position on the couch, leaning over so he could see down the hall toward the bathroom. He could still hear the shower running. He got up and went into the kitchen, pulling a beer from the refrigerator. Walking over to the window, he looked out at the late afternoon activity in the neighborhood below. Stickball. He smiled. It was like a rite of passage...playing stickball in the street. He and Lewis used to have a blast playing stickball...
It had been just over a week since he'd left the hospital and Eames was being overprotective. She wasn't inclined to let him do anything, and he was getting annoyed. He was feeling better, and nearly all the pain was gone. Well, except for his ribs, which still hurt when she made him laugh, or he took too deep a breath, or he moved the wrong way. But it was getting better.
The phone rang. He set the bottle on the window sill and crossed the room, lifting the phone from its cradle. "Hello?"
"Bobby?"
"Um, yeah..."
"It's Steve. You know, from the subway..."
"Yeah...hey, man, how are you?"
"Doing good. How about you?"
"I'm a lot better."
"I talked to Alex two weeks ago, after you got operated on. She said you were gonna be ok and that you wouldn't mind if we called you..."
"No, that's fine. I'm glad you called. Uh, who's we?"
"Me and Kelsey."
He smiled. "How is she?"
"Great. We both are."
"You're...uh, together?"
"Funny, isn't it?"
"No. I think...it's something very good that came out of something...very bad."
"Yeah, it is. Say, if you're feeling better...maybe, could we treat you to dinner tonight? I know it's kind of late to ask, but...we'd really like to see you. And Alex, if she's available."
Available? Getting the warden to let him out was going to take some finagling. "I think that would be...nice."
"Great. How about meeting us at Bennigan's near Times Square in an hour? You know the place?"
"I know it. Ok, Steve. We'll see you then."
He heard the bathroom door close as he set the phone back down. "Bobby?"
"I'm right here, Eames. Don't panic."
"Panic? I..." She frowned at him and he laughed. He really wished she wouldn't do that.
"We're going out," he informed her.
"Oh, really?"
He put his arms around her and drew her close, kissing her forehead. "Really."
"Just where are we going?"
"Bennigan's, over near Times Square."
"Why the sudden plans?"
He pressed his forehead against hers. "Because I am sick and tired of being in this apartment and not doing a damn thing. And because Steve just called and I told him we'd come. Now if you want to skip out..."
She silenced him with a kiss. "Do you feel ok?"
"Yes. I keep telling you that." Of course, if she really wanted to keep him here, she had the ability to convince him to do that... But if she knew it already, which he suspected she did, she wasn't going to act on it. No...she was afraid of hurting him, dammit. And so far, he'd been unable to convince her that he wasn't going to break.
Sighing heavily, he pulled away from her and headed to the bedroom to get dressed.