Chapter 5

Eames realized it was almost 8pm as she reached for the cup with her soda in it. Logan had brought her a sandwich earlier, after learning she'd spent the day sitting with Bobby. Ross, Wheeler, and even the Chief of D's Moran had all been by to check on Bobby's condition, which seemed to be steadily improving. The doctor was even talking about moving him to a regular room tomorrow.

She sucked on the straw, a loud gurgling noise telling her the cup was virtually empty.

Should I tell her how annoying and rude that is?

Eames's head shot up as she sensed movement from the bed. Although Bobby had drifted in and out all day, he'd remained still and unmoving except for those brief moments.

"Bobby? Thank God. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

Bobby frowned at her and she felt his questions, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Do... do I know you?"

Well, there it was, the question of the day. How should she answer? While she was thinking, he frowned and seemed to be concentrating. "You… you were here before." He closed his eyes and grimaced, riding out a wave of pain. The woman grasped his hand and held on tightly, and he felt her support and her strength flow into him. Moments later, he opened his eyes, his features relaxed under the bandages.

Eames' sense of relief that Bobby was talking, was thinking had her feeling giddy. She reached out with her other hand and patted down at the patch of unruly brown hair that escaped being bound up in the ring of white bandaging . "You did that before too," he said softly, his eyes studying the grip she had on his hand.

Eames took a deep breath. His eyes reflected the question in his mind. What was their connection? Why was she there? She smiled, suddenly not afraid to share with him what had happened. "Yes, I did." She said as she nodded and grinned back at him.

"I'm Detective Alex Eames. I'm your partner. The reason you're here and are having trouble remembering things is that you were shot in the head while rescuing a six-year-old child from a building where a bomb had been planted." She could feel the fear mounting in him and she smiled as she squeezed his hand more tightly. "But the doctors tell me your chances of recovery are excellent and they really seem to know what they're doing, so I don't want you to worry."

She could feel the fear and confusion that was filling him as easily as she could feel him fighting them both. "What day is it?" he asked, a frown scrunching his face.

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise me you're not going to worry about anything. I'm going to tell you what happened and what the doctors have told me. And then I can tell you about us, if you'd like. But if you get upset, the nurses will kick me out and then I'll be forced to harass everyone in the building to try and get back in here, but in the meantime you'll be stuck in here by yourself."

The corner of his mouth twitched just a little. "Well, we can't have that. No worrying about anything... no freaking out, got it." Okay, maybe I could have been partners with her. I've never had a female partner before. Have I?

"Bobby, focus, you're drifting."

"Huh?" He looked dazed for a moment as he tried to bring his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "Sorry . . . mind's fuzzy."

"That's understandable, but maybe we should do this later." Eames looked at Bobby with concern. She couldn't imagine the number of questions and random thoughts running through his brain.

"No, just . . . you may have to help me stay focused. I want to know. Please." He looked confused for a moment, his brows creasing. Crap. I can't remember the question.

Eames sighed and wondered how many times they might have this conversation before it stuck. At least it would pass the time. "Okay, Bobby, today is July 25, 2007."

Bobby blinked a few times and then took a long breath, letting it out slowly. She frowned. He didn't believe her. She looked around the room and finally found the newspaper in the floor beside the chair. She picked it up and showed him the date.

"Remember," she said firmly. "No freaking out. The doctor said your memories can come back, we just have to be patient. It might take a while and they might not all come back at once, but they can come back."

He looked up at her, studying her expression. "And they might not come back . . . right?"

Eames sighed and dropped her head a little. "It's a possibility."

Bobby swallowed and looked away for a second before looking back at Eames. "How did you get to be my partner?"

"You transferred in to Major Case from Narcotics almost eight years ago. Captain Deakins assigned us together."

"Deakins?" He thought the name sounded familiar.

"Yes, Captain James Deakins. Do you remember him?"

"Ah, I don't know. Kind of, I think." Goren sighed. "I think this is going to take a long time. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Eames nodded. "We're partners, we look out for and help each other. That's what we do."

Bobby smiled and squeezed her hand. "I want to know more."

ooOOoo

Bobby shifted restlessly, resisting the urge to get out of bed and pace. When they got him up to walk a few steps or to sit in the chair by the window, he got so dizzy he was sure he'd be in the floor if someone wasn't there holding onto him. The first time they'd gotten him upright, the dizziness had led to nausea and he'd puked three steps from the bed. Fortunately, that had been a one-time event. But he had enough sense to know better than to get up by himself until he was much stronger and more coordinated. He suffered very few side effects from his injury. His speech was unaffected as were his motor skills. Food didn't seem to taste the same, but he reasoned that could be attributed to the fact that is was 'hospital' food.

The inactivity was driving him crazy. Other than the few minutes he was helped around his room and up and down the hallway, he was bedridden. He was used to being busy, both with his body and his mind. Even though he was too weak and too muddled to do anything constructive, that didn't mean he wasn't itching to try. He ran his legs along the sheets, alternately bending and straightening each leg and wiggling his toes. Anything to keep the circulation going.

Ross had been by earlier to assure him his job was safe and for him to relax and obey all the doctor's orders. He kept talking about when Bobby got his memory back, as if it was a certainty. Bobby couldn't help but wonder what would happen if it never came. Would the NYPD still want him? He doubted it. He hadn't had the nerve to ask, not yet.

Then there was Eames. He didn't know what to make of her. She seemed very concerned about him, as if they had known each other for years. It scared him that she knew him so well. But he didn't remember her, he didn't feel for her. And that made him feel guilty. He was beginning to like her, but the differences in their memories made it awkward sometimes. He found it unsettling to deal with someone who knew so much more about him than he knew about them.

Bobby sighed and leaned his head back against the pillow. He knew he was lucky he had someone to look after him as she was. Eames watched over him day and night. He had to kick her out so she could take care of things she needed to do and so he could have some down time. Trying to revive his stalled memory was wearing him out.

Bobby closed his eyes and squirmed a little to get comfortable. He realized he was moving cautiously to keep from jolting his head. Somewhere along the way, he'd started doing that automatically, so that most of the time he wasn't even aware he was doing it. He really hated being hurt and immobile. As he stilled, exhaustion began to creep up on him so slowly that he wasn't even aware he was drifting off.

ooOOoo

Eames hurried into Bobby's room to find him sitting in the big chair in the corner. "Sorry it took me so long," she said as she set a plastic bag on the table. Bobby had been out of the ICU for several days and he was looking a little better each day. Although he still had the IV catheter taped to his arm, it was currently plugged and he was line-free. The bandage circling his head was much smaller than what he had initially. He'd asked for a mirror at the last dressing change and taken a long, dramatic look at the stitches in the side of his head, but he'd only commented on how lop-sided his hair was, choosing to ignore how close he'd come to death.

"That's okay, I told you not to hurry. I'm a big boy, now. I can stay in the hospital without supervision." He grinned up at her and she could tell he felt better than when she'd left. He'd had a headache, the someone is stabbing me in the temple kind.

"You feel better," she stated.

"I do. Did all my whining work?"

Eames lifted her eyebrows a bit and then dipped into the white plastic bag, pulling out a small yellow package. "Peanut M&Ms, just for you." She tossed the pack at him and Bobby caught it in both hands, not trusting his coordination to try one-handed.

"Yes! Thank you! A man's gotta have a little junk food every now and again." He tore off the top of the package and snagged a couple of the candies, tossing them in his mouth. Eames laughed as she pulled the smaller chair a little closer and sat down next to him. He was dressed in pajama's and a robe she'd brought from his apartment. Both looked so new that she guessed they were rarely used.

"Happy now?" she asked, enjoying the fact that he was enjoying the candy.

"Definitely. Ross came by while you were out. They've charged the four rich kids with everything from extortion to attempted murder and they're pretty sure they have enough evidence to make it stick, no matter what kind of lawyers the parents hire. Darrell Griffith is still out there." The case was one of the first memories to return. Bobby thought it might be because it was the most recent. Everything about the case came back in sharp detail. The people he worked that case were indistinct shapes as were the other detectives that had stopped in to see him. He sensed that he knew Logan and Wheeler, Ross and Jeffries, Ritchie and Jamison, and others, but still the connection didn't come to him.

Eames nodded. "Well, at least they got four out of five. Did Ross tell you why they shot you?"

Bobby hesitated, chewing his lower lip. "He told me that Thomas Keller was the shooter. Turns out he's quite a marksman. He was there for me. Darrell felt I was a threat and told Keller to get rid of me and anyone else who looked like they might mess things up."

Eames stood looking at him for a few moments. "Do they think you're still in any danger from Darrell?"

"Ross didn't say, but I doubt it. His rich foursome of freaks are going to be doing heavy time, his money supply has dried up, and he knows we're are looking for him. He'll be laying low and looking for a way out. Besides, I don't remember any of this, so there's no way I'm a threat to him now."

"But he may not know that," said Eames, her worry increasing. "And he may just want a little revenge."

"Nah, this guy is too meticulous for something like revenge. He'd only come after me now if he saw me as a threat and I'm not his problem any more. At least until I get out of here and have a chance to study the files again."

"Bobby."

Bobby frowned and looked up at Eames. "He's responsible for injuring dozens of people, including several rescue personnel still searching the building they called in the threat for. It's just a matter of luck that no one died. They did thousands of dollars of damage to the office building that was evacuated and the area around the blast site. And we haven't even talked about the kidnappings. He's not walking away from this."

"Okay, I agree he shouldn't, but you're not going after him until you've healed some, understand?" Her voice held a warning that was unmistakable.

He looked at her as if he might argue, then relaxed his posture and flashed her a lop-sided grin. Looking down, he leaned his open bag of M&Ms her way. "Want some?"

"No, you go ahead," she said, relieved he wasn't going to argue. "I bought my own." Eames reached back into the bag and pulled out a bag of skittles.

"You're always threatening me Eames."

Eames froze, staring at Bobby as he studied the M&M package and then looked up at her. "What?"

"Why did you say that?"

Bobby frowned. "Huh? Say what?"

Eames took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, telling herself to calm down. "Why did you say I'm always threatening you?"

Bobby's eyes widened, as if he hadn't really processed what he'd said. "I . . . I don't know. It just popped out . . . and it seemed right." He looked down at the yellow package in his lap. "I . . . I don't really . . . " He trailed off, staring across the room as if in a daze.

Eames was holding her breath. As she watched him, she could actually see him remembering, she could see the wheels turning.

Bobby was remembering something… remembering the two of them walking back to the car from a... a cemetery. The image switched to them riding in a car and this time she was speaking. He could remember the conversation like it was yesterday. "Bobby, you haven't slept in a week and you've barely eaten. You can't keep driving yourself like this."

Next she was waving a sandwich in front of his face as he worked through a giant stack of files in the conference room. "Will you just stop and eat before you pass out. You've been in here for over eight hours, without a break.."

Bobby blinked and wiped at the sheen of sweat that had formed across his face. The color seemed to have drained away, leaving him looking pale and sick. "Bobby, are you okay?"

He slowly lifted his head to look at her, his hand trembling slightly. "I . . . I remember something."

Eames stood and took the candy package from his lap, where he'd let it fall from his grasp. Laying it on the table, she turned back to him. "Maybe you should lie back down. You look kind of shaky."

Bobby pulled away from where she was trying to take his arm. "No, no, I'm fine. It just caught me a little off guard is all. I'm okay now."

The color had begun to return to his cheeks and he looked less like he was going to pass out cold right in front of her. She sighed heavily. "Okay, but only for a little while longer. How long have you been sitting there?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe forty minutes."

"Five more minutes and then it's back to bed."

"I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are. Your forget I know you a lot better than you do, remember?"

Bobby furrowed his brow slightly. He couldn't seem to keep that fact in his mind. "Well, that really sucks sometimes," he said, almost pouting.

"Probably, but it's also come in handy a few times as well."

Eames and he were sitting in a restaurant. She nudged him in the arm as they sat at the table eating dinner. "We have what we need."

The room seemed to spin as it came back into focus and Bobby closed his eyes against the illusion of movement. "Yeah . . . handy," he murmured weakly. He was suddenly very tired.

"Bobby, let me help you back to bed."

"Hmm, 'kay." He opened his eyes, but the room still seemed to be slowly shifting around him. With Eames' help, he slowly got to his feet and they began shuffling to the bed. He didn't lean on her for support so much as he leaned against her for balance. The dizziness wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't getting better either.

When they finally arrived, she helped him out of his robe and then to get settled into bed, drawing the covers up to his chest. His eyes had slid closed during her fussing, but he opened them a slit to smile at her. "Thanks."

She nodded, returning the smile. "You're welcome. It's starting to come back, Bobby. Just be patient and I'm sure you'll remember more. For now, just get some rest."

Eames' smile twisted into a bit of a smirk as he let his eyes close and she smacked him playfully in the arm.