A/N: Just a reminder--I'm re-editing and reposting this story because I missed some details of continuity and decided to change some things.
Eames rolled over in bed to snuggle against her husband, but he wasn't there. She looked at the time. Almost seven. He was probably on his way back from Logan's. He had a nine-thirty doctor's appointment and she had one at two-thirty. Logan had agreed to take Maggie to and from school and spend the day with Tommy. Molly would remain with them, since Eames was still breast-feeding.
Both men were almost ready to return to work after being shot by John Hammond, and they were both getting restless. Logan seemed to be his normal, obnoxious self, but she was concerned about Goren. Although she was six weeks out from Molly's birth and well healed, he was still very tentative with her. She understood his apprehension and his fear of hurting her, but it troubled her to think that the only reason he slept in the bedroom was to tend to Molly. She wanted to discuss it with him, but she wasn't sure exactly how to approach it. She'd watched him withdraw like this many times over the course of their partnership, and it was a cause for further concern to her that there were still times she could not reach him, even now.
She got out of bed and showered. Stepping into the bedroom wearing only a towel, she was surprised to find Bobby home, holding Molly and pacing beside the crib, gently bouncing her. The cadence of his voice was soothing as he softly sang to her. Eames smiled as she watched him, feeling a complicated surge of tenderness and desire.
He must have sensed she was there because he looked up and stopped his pacing, falling silent as he stared in her direction. "Don't stop on my account," she encouraged.
He blinked for a moment, searching for words, any words, to fill the void. "I...uh, I think she's hungry."
"Probably. Let me get dressed and I'll feed her before we go."
He nodded, looking away and draping Molly's portable oxygen tank over his cast. "We'll wait in the living room."
He purposely averted his gaze to avoid looking at her as he carried the baby from the room, and Eames sighed. She'd hoped he would stay, showing some real interest in her, and she was disappointed when he didn't. She dressed and went into the living room, where he was pacing as he talked to the baby. She was watching him with wide, bright eyes, just the way Maggie used to when she was an infant. He fascinated his daughters. Eames had to admit he fascinated her, too. He was so focused on the baby that he didn't notice her until she stepped up to his side and touched his arm. He looked at her, and she caught an unguarded look for just a moment before it quickly retreated.
She took the baby and walked to the couch, knowing he would follow with the oxygen. He set it down beside her and turned, but she caught his arm. "Sit down," she insisted.
He hesitated briefly, but did as she asked, studying the green tank by his knee instead of looking at her as she settled the baby to nurse. When she leaned against him, he tensed reflexively, then tried to force himself to relax before she noticed. Too late. Her hand grasped his as she asked, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Don't give me that. I know you better."
"I'm serious. Nothing is wrong."
She tried to be patient. "So why are you avoiding me?"
"Avoiding...?" He stopped and frowned, shifting his point of view to consider how she would interpret his behavior and he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not avoiding you. I'm...uh, protecting you."
"Protecting me from what?" she snapped. "And don't tell me you're protecting me from you unless you want a black eye."
"I'm not. You just had major surgery, Alex. The last thing you need..." He trailed off, embarrassed and uncomfortable. "You don't need me causing problems, that's all."
"Problems? What kind of problems..."
He cut her off with a kiss, one that quickly escalated in intensity and she realized exactly why he'd been avoiding contact. When he drew back, it was with great difficulty and she touched his chin. "Dammit," she whispered hoarsely. "How long...?"
She didn't have to complete the question and he had no intention of answering it. He brushed his lips over hers again, got up from the couch and left the room. She looked down at Molly and said, "Your daddy is the most frustrating man in the world, little girl."
As if in reply, Molly grunted and sucked harder. Eames smiled. She understood his frustration and was fully confident she would get the green light from her doctor that afternoon to bring that frustration to a shattering end. Just the thought of it sent a shiver of pleasure through her. Some things were definitely worth the wait and she had every intention of proving that to her husband. When she finished with him, he would have no doubt that the past two months had been just as difficult for her as they had for him in every way.
Richard Wrightweiler studied the x-rays on the lightbox in front of him. He ran his fingers along a series of faint lines on the film and then studied the areas around the pins he'd had to use to hold the shattered bone in place as it healed. He turned back toward the exam table, where Goren was flexing his wrist and elbow. Pain was clearly evident on his face as he manipulated the sore, stiff joints. "You're healing well," the doctor commented as he stepped to the table and examined Goren's arm. "Squeeze my fingers."
Goren squeezed the doctor's fingers, wincing as he swallowed a grunt of pain. He asked, "Well enough to get rid of the cast?"
Wrightweiler didn't miss the note of hope in the man's voice and he hated to dash it, but this arm had more healing to do and he was not willing to risk serious complications when it was healing so nicely. "No. Not yet."
Goren frowned. "What about work?"
The surgeon glanced at Eames, then back at his patient. "How's the pain?"
"I manage with it."
"Am I to assume you're no longer taking your pain medication?"
Goren shrugged, but didn't answer and the doctor again looked at Eames, who said, "I encourage him to take it when he needs it, but he won't listen to me."
Wrightweiler sat down on his stool and tapped his pen on a prescription pad. "I supposed I'd be wasting time and ink to write a script for something else."
Again Goren shrugged and he had his answer. He flipped through the file before finally answering Goren's question. "Limited desk duty," he said after a moment. "I will not return you to full duty until your arm is healed and the cast comes off for good."
"But..."
The doctor cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No 'buts', Bobby. Do you need me to write something for pain or not?"
"No."
"Have it your way. Let's get a new cast on that arm."
After applying a new cast and telling Goren he wanted to see him back in three weeks, Wrightweiler watched him slide from the exam table and leave the room, as he did after every visit. The doctor smiled at Eames, meeting her at the door and handing her a prescription, as he did after every visit. With a smile, he said, "Do your best, Alex."
She returned his smile and replied, "Thank you," as she slipped the paper into the pocket of her jeans and settled Molly on her shoulder, following her husband down the hall.
"I don't know why you have to be so stubborn," Eames scolded as she took off her shirt in the exam room of Steven Burke's office, too annoyed to be modest.
"Would you please drop it?"
He turned toward her to make another point as she slipped off her bra before grabbing the exam gown from the table in front of her. He lost his train of thought entirely and stared at her as she unfolded the gown and slipped it on. Turning her attention back to him, she met his eyes and smiled. "Okay, I'll drop it if you'll be reasonable."
"I don't need any medicine. I told you I can handle it; trust me."
Those two words always did her in. She knew how important trust was to him, and she did trust him. "One condition," she replied as she sat on the exam table. "Promise me you'll take it if you need it."
"All right," he conceded, his eyes straying from her face to her chest, against his will. "If I need it."
She watched his eyes and smiled, but a knock interrupted her before she was able to translate teasing thoughts into words. Burke came into the room and smiled at them. "How are you folks doing today?" He walked over to Goren and laid a hand on his arm. "Let me see this little sweetpea."
He smiled warmly as he gently touched her cheek and patted Goren's back. "Beautiful," he commented. "How is she doing?"
"Fine," Goren answered. "She should be able to come off the oxygen in a few more weeks."
"Wonderful." He crossed the small room to the exam table. "And how are you doing, Alex?"
"I feel great."
"Let's take a look."
Forty-five minutes and a clean bill of health later, they left the office. Asking him to wait a moment, she set Molly in his arms and disappeared into the bathroom before he had a chance to object. After washing her hands, she pulled out her phone and called Logan. How'd it go? he asked.
"Fine. How are Maggie and Tom?"
Great. Maggie brought home a 'pitcher' she drew for Daddy to cheer him up. Has he been upset?
"Yes and no. You know how she always picks up on his moods. I need a favor from you, Mike."
Name it, sweetheart.
"Can you keep the kids until after dinner?"
Sure. I have s'ghetti. Is everything all right?
"It will be by the time you bring them home."
There was a moment of silence before he started to laugh. Gotcha.
Ignoring his laughter, she answered, "Thank you, Mike."
Replacing the phone in her pocket, she left the restroom.
They arrived home after a quiet ride. Eames settled the sleeping baby in her crib, hesitating over the bed to watched her sleep. Like Maggie and Tom, she was a happy baby who rarely cried and was easily comforted when she did. She had dark eyes and sparse dark hair, long eyelashes and full, round cheeks. Most babies her age did little more than eat and sleep, but Molly spent an unusual amount of time awake, intensely interested in the world around her. She was six weeks old, and Eames could already see her resemblance to her father. She smiled and reached down to touch a little hand.
The bedroom door eased open and Goren poked his head into the room. "Alex, I'm going to run over to Mike's and get Maggie and Tom."
She looked at him for a moment before stepping away from the crib and walking to the door. She kept her eyes focused on his as she pulled the door open and gently grasped the front of his shirt. "They can have dinner with Mike and Carolyn," she murmured as she pulled his body against hers.
"Alex..." he began, but his protest was weak.
When she began to unbutton his shirt, he grasped her wrists in a gentle hold and softly said, "Stop. You had surgery..."
"Six weeks ago," she interrupted with a frown. "And now I'm fully recovered. You heard Dr. Burke. I can go back to work and resume all my normal activities. There's nothing for you to worry about."
"Let me be the judge of that."
Her frown darkened. "So you're going to punish us both because you can't get past a misplaced feeling of guilt over what Hammond did? I am not fragile, Goren, and I will not let you force me into celibacy because of some guilt trip you're on."
He stepped back from her, frowning. "What is that supposed to mean?"
She waved her hand dismissively. "Forget it," she snapped, turning away from him.
"I won't forget it," he said, following her across the room. "I want to know what you meant by that."
Instead of answering, she opened the closet door and began to unbutton her shirt. "I meant what I said," she replied, slowly sliding her shirt off her shoulders.
"A-Alex..."
Ignoring him, she undid her bra and let it dangle from her index finger. Turning toward him, she unbuttoned her jeans and lifted her chin in a defiant gesture. Slowly, she ran her tongue over her lips. "I will not wait another day," she whispered.
He stared at her, eyes shifting from her lips to her chest, and she watched his resolve waver. "Are you...are you sure...I can't hurt...you?"
"Positive," she promised, pushing her jeans over her hips with a seductive wiggle.
When he didn't move, she finished undressing, taking great care to exaggerate her movements. Then she returned to him, reaching out to finish unbuttoning his shirt. When her fingertips caressed his chest, trailing a line of heat over his abdomen to his waist, his resolve crumbled. With a soft growl, he pulled her against him and claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss. She responded with equal hunger, undoing his jeans and shoving them over his hips as she pushed him roughly toward the bed. When she was through with him, no doubt would remain in his mind—about anything.
Maggie was excited as she slipped her new shirt over her head and put on a new pair of jeans, the ones with the pink butterfly embroidered on the pocket. Daddy got them for her, just because she liked them. She rarely ever asked for anything, but if she really liked something, Daddy or Grandpa or Uncle Mike usually got it for her. Mommy always scolded them for spoiling her, but she did it with a smile, so Maggie knew she wasn't really upset. And they always got something for Tommy, too. Now, she was certain, they would include her tiny sister. She shuffled through her drawer for her pink butterfly barrettes and went in search of her mother.
She found her in the living room, holding Molly and talking to her. Climbing up onto the couch beside her, she smiled and gently grasped the baby's hand. "When's she gonna get bigger, Mommy?"
"That is going to take some time, Maggie. She started out so small, but she'll catch up."
"Gramma is going to like my new baby, isn' she?"
"Of course she will. And she'll be very happy to see you and Tommy, too."
Smiling, Maggie held out her barrettes and a brush. "Could you he'p me with my hair, please?"
Eames settled the baby in her lap and drew Maggie in front of her. She brushed Maggie's dark curls and snugged the barrettes in place to keep the unruly hair from her daughter's eyes. "There you are. Where's Daddy?"
"Thank you, Mommy. He's he'pin' Tommy. I'll tell him to hurry. Gramma ala'ys gets happy to see us."
She watched the little girl trot off toward the bedrooms and smiled. Maggie always left happiness in her wake.
Maggie poked her head into her brother's room, but no one was there so she crossed the hall to her parents' room. Tommy was running around the room, wearing just a pair of jeans and giggling. Goren came out of the bathroom with a warm, wet face cloth. "All right, tiger. Come here."
With a growl, Tommy ran at the bed, scrambled up onto it with a skill born of long practice and ran to launch himself at Goren, who easily caught him with his uninjured arm. They laughed and Maggie smiled, stepping into the room as Goren cleaned the toddler's face. She was happy that her father didn't seem as troubled any more. She knew her mother would fix his mood; she always did when it got very dark. Tommy clapped his hands when he saw her. "Maga! Pay!"
"You gotsta get dressed, Tommy, so we can show our baby to Gramma."
Goren grabbed a little shirt and slid it over Tommy's blond head. Maggie stepped up to the bed as Tommy sat down to have his shoes and socks put on. Goren looked at her. "Mommy helped you with your hair?"
"Yes. You're not ready, Daddy."
"Not yet. I've been chasing your brother. There, little man. Go show Mommy."
Tom slid off the bed and scurried out the door, calling, "Mama! D'essed! Me gotta sooos!"
Goren smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Maggie. She stepped up to him and reached out, fingering an old scar. "Can I ask you somethin', Daddy?"
"Go ahead."
"Can anybody see in my window?"
"Not really."
"Why not?"
"Because we're on the third floor, well above the sidewalk, and your curtains are usually drawn."
"But at night, when the window's open, they're not."
"No, but the light is out. Why?"
"'Cause yesteddy...I thought the mean lady...was watchin' me."
Before he could answer, Eames appeared in the doorway. "Are you ready to..." She stopped at the look on his face. "What's wrong?"
"W-We'll be right there. I have to talk to Maggie."
She nodded and returned to the living room, where Tommy was standing beside the couch, holding Molly's hand and talking to her. Molly was intently watching his face.
Goren drew Maggie up onto his lap. "Why do you think the mean lady was watching you, mouse?"
"I thought I sawed her inna window."
He shook his head. "No one can reach your window, baby, except Mr. Collins with his ladder. But the middle of a January night is not a time he would be up on his ladder fixing anything. No one was looking in your window."
"But she...she doesn' do thin's you ispect."
"That's true. She did plenty of things I never expected. But she can't pull anymore surprises on me now."
"Why? When she was inna jail, you didn' think she could hurt us, but she was gonna try. So we hadda go to the woods an' get baby Sean there."
He kissed her forehead and softly sighed. "While you were in Maine, I arrested the mean lady."
"An' you sended her back to jail so she could get out again?"
"No, baby. After I arrested her, someone hurt her badly. The doctors couldn't help her. She died and she will never hurt anyone again."
Maggie rested her head against his chest and sighed but she made no reply at first, idly poking at the scar of an old bullet wound in his abdomen. He let her take the time she needed to form her response. "How am I s'posed to feel 'bout that?"
"How do you feel about it?"
"Wrong, I think."
"Wrong? What makes you say that?"
"I feel...glad that she can' hurt peoples no more. But that's wrong. I shouldn' feel that way."
"Okay. How do you think you should feel?"
"Sad...because she got hurt and died. It's wrong to be glad someone got hurt or died...even bad peoples. But I can' he'p how my heart feels. Are you sad about it?"
"Part of me is, but part of me isn't."
"Is it okay if you feel good an' bad about stuff?"
"Sometimes, yes."
"So maybe that's how I feel, too...on'y for a diff'rent reason."
"What do you mean?"
"I feel glad b'cause she can' hurt nobody no more, but I feel bad b'cause I feel that way."
He gave that some thought. "That's...fine. It's okay to feel like that."
"Did you like her, Daddy?"
"What makes you ask that?"
"Part of you is sad b'cause she died."
"That doesn't mean I liked her. It just means...I don't like what happened. That's all."
"Does that mean you gotta sof' heart?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"I heared Mommy say it."
He laughed quietly. "Mommy has always thought that. It means that sometimes I feel sorry for the wrong people."
"But you can' he'p the way your heart feels."
"Not always, no." He kissed her head. "Now go help Mommy with the little ones and let me finish getting dressed."
"Okay, Daddy." She stopped before she slid off the bed. "So...I was dreamin'?"
"Probably, yes, but I'll take a look in the snow under your window before we go, to make sure it hasn't been disturbed."
"Okay." She hugged him, slid off the bed and trotted from the room. He smiled and walked to the closet to get a shirt and tie.
They knew the routine. Eames remained with the children in the waiting area near Sylvia's desk while Goren went to check on his mother. He knocked on her door, as he always did, before entering. She was seated by the window, watching the snow. Turning toward the door, she smiled, but her smile faded when he came in alone. "Where are my grandchildren, Bobby?"
"Alex is bringing them, Mom."
Frances frowned. "You didn't screw that up, too, did you, and chase her off?"
He frowned. "No, I didn't. I just came to make sure you're doing all right before we bring the kids in."
"The forward scout?"
"Give me a break, Mom. If you're having a bad day, I'm taking the kids home."
Frances sighed impatiently. "I'm fine, son. I just want to see those children. I've been looking forward to seeing them all week."
"I know you have. They have, too."
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him expectantly. He raised his hands and said, "All right. I'll be right back."
He headed down the hall, pondering the interaction, which wasn't sitting quite right with him. He considered taking the kids home, but then wondered if he was overreacting as he motioned to his family to join him. The nurses said she was having a good day, after all. He would never second guess his gut again.
Frances handed her tiny granddaughter to Eames and gathered Tommy into her lap. "That's one thing you have done right, son," she said as she hugged the toddler in her lap.
"What's that, Mom?"
"You have made beautiful children."
He nodded agreement, wondering at her ability to compliment and criticize in the same breath. His eyes strayed to his wife, where he found the encouragement he sought in her eyes. Then he looked at Maggie, who was running a light finger along the gilded edge of a framed photograph of him and his brother. She'd seen it before and he knew to expect more questions about the mysterious Uncle Frank she had never met. He wondered if she ever would.
Maggie turned from the picture and looked at her grandmother with a curious tilt of her head. "Daddy does lotsa thin's right, Gramma."
"Maggie..." Goren shook his head.
"But you do, Daddy."
"Let it go," he said quietly.
He was used to his mother's criticism and disapproval...so used to it that it did not occur to him until later that she had never openly criticized him in front of his children before.
Maggie turned back to the picture and Tom sat happily in his grandmother's lap, playing a game of pat-a-cake with her. Everything was fine...until Frances Goren's mind began to slip away...
Goren turned toward his mother at the sound of his name, but she wasn't talking to him. Too late, he saw the signs, and she escalated quickly. Her scolding tone rapidly disintegrated into fury as she yelled at the little boy in her lap, spinning him toward her and calling him 'Robert.'
Goren swore and ran across the room as she began to slap the toddler, who started crying, which fed her fury. 'Never cry... ' the warning words came unbidden to his mind.
At the same moment her father charged toward his mother, Maggie, who was closer, moved, too. Ignoring the swinging fists of the woman she did not recognize as her grandmother, she grabbed her little brother around the chest and yanked him from Frances' lap, dragging him out of range as her father grabbed the screaming woman. She sat on the floor on the other side of the room, cradling her sobbing brother in her lap, her quiet sobs melding with his as she looked for her mother.
Moments later, the door opened and several people she recognized only in passing came charging into the room. Then her mother was there, pulling her gently into an embrace as she took Tommy from her lap. Reluctantly, Maggie let Eames take him and she followed her from the room as her grandmother's screams and swears got louder. Maggie heard the sounds of fists meeting flesh and she cringed. "What about Daddy?" she sobbed, starting to turn. "I gotta he'p Daddy."
Eames gently grabbed her arm. "Daddy will be all right, baby. Stay with me and help me with Tom."
"Where's my Molly?"
"Miss Sylvia has her."
Maggie nodded as Eames led them to the nurses' station where a kind, attentive nurse named Mandy tended to them. Tommy's nose was bleeding and his eye was bruised, and Maggie had a bruise on her cheek. Tom held fast to his mother's hand, still sobbing. Maggie continued to look down the hall, toward the screaming, waiting for her father to appear and trembling with fear that Gramma was going to hurt him, too. Neither her mother nor Nurse Mandy could reassure her. She would not settle until she knew he was unharmed.
Twenty minutes later, Goren stepped from the now-quiet room and started down the hall toward the nurses station, distracted as he wondered how he could have missed it until it was too late. Usually, he knew, and with the children present, he was even more vigilant. Had he ignored the small clues that he knew could mean a break was imminent, hoping he was wrong? He knew better.
He was drawn from his reflections by a shout and he caught Maggie in his arms, lifting her and settling her on his shoulder as she began sobbing again. Tommy was in his mother's arms, now quiet, but holding on for dear life. His eyes searched the area and Eames told him, "With Sylvia."
He nodded, but he would not look at her face. He knew that he would not like the look he saw there. He should have known. She was never going to trust him again.
Eames thanked Mandy for tending to the children. "I'll call later," Goren told her.
They headed for the reception desk to retrieve their youngest child and head for home.