He didn't go right home. He couldn't shake the anger. Why hadn't they told him? Eames knew better. Damn! She knew better.

He let his mind wander, which he had learned was the best way for him to deal with something he didn't want to deal with. First, he thought about Emily. His mind traveled over the brief time he had known her...and he analyzed his attraction to her. She was small and muscular, beautiful...very much...like Eames. Tough, smart, pretty...again...just like...Eames. Oh...shit... He had to sit down, so he sat on the front steps of an old apartment building he was passing. Of course, Emily was her own person. She was genuine and sweet. She had helped him when he really needed help, and made him keep focused when he wanted to forget. He could easily have lost himself in her arms...why? Because the real love of his life had gone and he was hurting. So...his attraction to her was a reflection of his deeper attraction to Eames, even though he had come to honestly like her. Ok, yeah, he fell for her...but...no... he fell...for Eames. Emily was a substitution. He buried his face in his hands. He had used her. Fuck...he was no better than his old man. How could he have allowed himself to do that. Had his pain at the thought of losing Alex turned him into such a monster? More importantly, what did he do about it now? Apologize? Explain? No. He wasn't going to do either. She was dying. Why cause her more pain by letting her know just how much of an ass he was? Let her die in peace, thinking whatever she would about him. He wasn't going to take that from her. But he was going to find out why she thought he had no right to know how sick she was. That hadn't been fair to him, and he wouldn't be able to let it go until he knew why.

And Eames...Now to her, he would apologize...and explain. Because she already knew how much of an ass he could be, and she loved him anyway. He needed to apologize to her. Why? Because he had always felt he was better than William Goren, and he had stumbled. The fact that he hadn't done anything was irrelevant because he would have...if Emily had not stopped him. And to him that was unforgivable. He should fucking well be able to put the brakes on his own damn body. And the fact that he had failed so miserably began to eat at him. No better than his father... He got to his feet and began walking again. He found another bar and stopped in for a few more drinks...just to ease the pain.

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He tried to be quiet as he came into the apartment. He wasn't sure how successful he was, but he tried. He saw the form on the couch and lumbered over to it. Swaying slightly, he studied her as she slept. Honey-brown hair framed her lovely face, which was softened by her slumber. It gave no indication of the disease that ravaged her body, robbing her of her health but not her spirit. He sighed softly, moving away.

He headed down the hall toward the bedroom. Opening the door, he stumbled slightly, knocking it into the wall. "Shhhh..." he whispered to the door.

She turned over and sighed in her sleep. She didn't sit up or say anything, so he continued into the room. Trying to keep his balance as he undressed was a challenge he was not up to. He gave up trying before he woke her and leaned against the wall. Finally, he made it to the bed, sitting as lightly as he could. He put his face in his hands. He had really screwed up, and he could only hope she would forgive him...again. He wondered vaguely how much forgiveness she had in her, knowing that however much it was, he was certainly going to tax it.

When hands came to rest on his bare back, he nearly fell off the bed. Her chin came to rest lightly on his shoulder and her voice whispered past his ear. "Are you okay?"

He considered lying for a fraction of a second, but figured that would only get him deeper into trouble and he wasn't sure how deep he was to begin with. "No."

"I am so sorry."

"You? What are you sorry for?"

"I should have told you."

'That's true. But that's nothing compared to what I did to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not in any shape to talk about it now. Go back to sleep, Eames."

"Bobby..."

"Not now. Good night."

She kissed his neck softly...and he groaned. "Please...don't..."

She sighed and he felt an electric charge jolt through him as her breath caressed his neck. He swallowed as she whispered, "I am sorry we did this to you."

"Go to sleep, or I'll go over to Mike's."

She pressed her head against the back of his neck, her fingers trailing lightly from his shoulders to his waist. "Fine," she finally said. "But you aren't going to run away any more. Got it?"

He nodded. "I got it."

She leaned over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Then she was gone, back to her side of the bed. "Eames?"

"What?"

"I do love you."

"I know you do. I love you, too."

He wasn't sure how she could love him, but she did. And for that, he was eternally grateful. Turning, he looked at her. She had turned her back to him, not that he blamed her. He slid into the bed, settling onto the pillow as the bed tilted and spun. Thank God he didn't get motion-sick. He turned onto his side and slid his arms around her. She sighed and settled into his arms, nestling back against his chest. Content, he sighed softly, burying his face in her hair and enjoying her closeness.

She knew when he had drifted off. His arms loosened their hold, although they stayed wrapped around her. She could smell the liquor on his breath as it caressed her neck and shoulder, and she hated that they had upset him so. Lightly, she stroked his arms, knowing she wasn't going to waken him now. She knew how sensitive he was about things, and she should have tried to get that across to Emily sooner. But she had been so wrapped up in trying to make this, the last trip Emily would ever take, a memorable one, she had failed to take into account her partner's feelings. What had she done to him? He had been so...off-balance over the past week she wasn't sure how long it was going to take him to get his bearings back. At the very least, she should have prepared him. That look in his eyes...she knew right then she had done the wrong thing in letting Emily have her way as long as she had. Granted, Emily had no idea what waiting would do, but she had, and it was inexcusable that she had let her wait. She felt it was Emily's place to tell him, and she should have pressed her to get it done that first night. But Emily was afraid that he would feel sorry for her, that he would treat her differently. She wanted him to be relaxed, to see him smile without the specter of her illness clouding his face. And it would have. That much she did know. Past a certain point, Bobby couldn't hide his pain. And he cared enough about Emily that he wouldn't be able to hide that pain. All she could do now was hope she would be able to salvage their relationship. She knew she screwed up and she hoped he could forgive her.

He shifted in his sleep, tightening his arms around her and nuzzling his face closer. She sighed. This was one place she always loved to be, in his arms. Here she felt safe and protected. Here was the only place she let him take care of her without argument. And it was only here she let go of her tough, seasoned shell and let him see her vulnerability. She could cry when she hurt and love him without restraint. She could be soft and gentle and...fully human. No pretenses, no judgment. She loved him all the more for being that one person in the world with whom she could just be Alex. Not Detective Eames, not Aunt Alex, not sister, or daughter, or partner, or anything else. Just his Alex. And that was the person she most loved to be.