Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
It was a rhythm that I had grown to love in the many hours that I spent at her bedside in the dark. It was something I could rely on. Her breathing was something I had the right to expect, unlike the right I lacked to expect her to be by my side for the rest of eternity.
The curtain was drawn around her bed, providing partial privacy from the hospital around us. It was about 4 am and the movement in the hospital had decreased severely. Earlier there had been a roar outside of that curtain, but now there was only the occasional squeak of a nurse's shoes.
This pale blue partition blocked off the world. It blocked off the hostility, the violence, and the torture of the past couple of days. For some odd reason, a longing to stay within the boundaries of the curtain overwhelmed me. Within this cloth enclosure she was safe, she was mine.
A rustling came from the bed beside me. Then came the falter of breath, the touch of her hand, and the whisper of my name.
"Bobby?" Her hand tightened on my bare wrist. Her cold hand made me shiver. I leaned forward out of my lounging position and placed my other hand on top of hers.
"I'm here, Alex." Words that I had always wanted to say, but I have never gotten the chance. The tasted sweet as they jumped from my lips.
I felt her hand go limp as I clasped it in mine.
"How long have you been here?" her voice was faint and raspy.
"Since they brought you in." I wanted to say so much more than those five words, but something inside of me held back. I wanted to apologize more than anything. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was that I let her leave me, that I didn't find her sooner, that I let anything bad happen to her. But, I didn't. I knew that apologies wouldn't help heal her bruises. No matter how horrible I felt and how much I regretted letting her leave that room, I couldn't do anything to take it back.
I couldn't see her, but I began to feel her body relax. "What time is it?" she was whispering now. I was happy that she wasn't using her voice because it sounded so unlike her that it hurt.
"Its about 4 in the morning." I looked towards my hands. The warmth of hers in mine was comforting in the fact that she was still with me and she didn't intend to leave.
"I've been knocked out for the past several hours, I think you're the one that needs to sleep." For some odd reason, the tone of her whispering made me feel that she was back with me.
"No, I'm fine." I looked about the room. From the flowers on her nightstand that were tickling my right year, to the thin layers of light that fell onto the floor from the edges of the curtain. "I asked for the next couple of days off, so if you need anything, just ask."
"Oh, what will the New York City criminals do without the great Robert Goren at their heals?" Her sarcastic tone signaled that I definitely had my beloved partner back. She laughed a little, and then she fell silent. "Bobby…."
"I can stay if you want. You know, to sneak you in some real food, wash your therapeutic slippers, or even change your bed-pan." I laughed softly.
"Right. Like I'm letting you anywhere near my bedpan." She laughed and squeezed my hand.
"Ow…." I exaggerated the sting of her remark.
A few moments passed with a deafening silence, instilling the seriousness of the moment within us.
"Bobby?" Her voice sliced through the air.
"Yes, Alex?"
"Stay with me…"
