When they entered the hotel room, he walked over to the window and looked out over the lake. Eames watched him, but still let him be. If she tried to draw him out too soon, she would only succeed in driving him further away. Timing was an important thing in dealing with him when his emotions were all askew, and she understood that better than anyone did.
She took a hot shower and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. She just wanted to be comfortable. She wanted to crawl into the big bed in the middle of the room and let him hold her. But when she came out of the bathroom, he was gone. She sat down on the bed and debated what to do. Pulling on a pair of thick socks and her running shoes, she walked over to the window. She had been right to choose this hotel. He was down by the lake.
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She knew he heard her when she approached, but he remained down by the water. It had been a long time since she'd seen him turn so far into himself...and that told her he was trying mightily to suppress his feelings rather than deal with them. He continued walking along the waterline while she watched him from the path. "It hurts," she said softly.
"Go back to the room, Eames. Your head is wet and you're going to get sick."
"I don't think I want to leave you out here alone."
He looked at her. "Why not? What do you think I'm going to do?"
"Spend the night continuing to try to avoid what you're feeling."
"Go inside."
"No." She finally approached him. "I know you're a big, tough cop. But I also know what's inside and that's where you're hurting."
He didn't react except to turn away and resume walking along the lake. She followed him, continuing to push. "I know where it's hurting you, because I hurt in the same place." No answer. "You loved her."
He stopped, turning to look at her. She expected a denial, but he still remained silent. There was no turning back now. "It wasn't hard to love her. But you carry the extra burden of seeing me in her...and I can't pretend to know how much that hurts. I just know that it does."
She approached him, but he backed away, until his back hit a tree. She stopped in front of him. Her voice was soft and gentle, and he wished she would yell at him or be angry or...something because he could handle anger better than sympathy. His insides were trembling, and he had no idea how to make them stop. Her soft voice just made matters worse.
"We are both hurting," she said softly.
He slid down the trunk of the tree to the ground and she dropped to her knees beside him. He continued to keep a marginal hold on his grief and pain...until she touched him and whispered his name. His control snapped. She pulled him into her arms and she cried with him...and he let her hold him and share that grief. She was the only one he had ever let in that far, and she was the only one he ever would.
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Daylight streamed into the room through the window, waking her. His arms were still around her, holding her close against him. He had not let her leave his embrace all night, and she welcomed his closeness. He was swinging through extremes right now. First he had pushed her away, but when she pushed back and broke through his reserve, he had drawn her close and he hadn't yet let her go. Carefully, she slid from his arms and crossed to the window to close the drapes. Darkness settled back on the room and she crept back into the warmth of his arms. He pulled her back against his chest, kissing the side of her head as she snuggled into his embrace and they both drifted back to sleep.
When he woke, she wasn't beside him. He rolled onto his back, listening to her quiet voice as she talked on the phone, trying not to wake him. "Ok, tomorrow, then. 9:00. We'll find it. Thank you."
She looked up when he placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned over to kiss her. "How are you?" she asked.
"Okay. You?"
"Yes. The funeral is tomorrow at nine."
"Fine."
She watched him go into the bathroom. When the shower started running, she slipped out of the room, returning twenty minutes later with two foam containers. He was sitting on the bed, holding his head in his hands, when she came through the door.
This was hard for him. It was hard enough to lose someone he'd come to care about, to love, but he was still unable to separate Eames from Emily in his mind, and it was driving him nuts. He heard her come in the door and set down her keys and whatever she had gone out to get. He heard her take off her jacket and drop it over a chair. He felt her get onto the bed and crawl across the mattress to him. Her hands settled on his shoulders and began to rub. His body shuddered and he turned, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her neck and her hair. And he held her.
She let her body fall into his arms as he laid her back onto the bed. His breath was warm against her neck and his arms were tight around her. He continued to tremble, and she continued to caress his back and comb her fingers through his hair. Gradually, he relaxed, but he still wouldn't let her go...and she didn't want him to.
