Chapter 6

"You wouldn't be so tired if you hadn't insisted on stopping at One Police Plaza on the way home," scolded Eames as she unlocked Bobby's door. She carried his bag in as he shuffled along behind her and made his way slowly to the couch. She caught his arm before he sat down and began steering him down the hall.

"Oh, no you don't. You're going to bed."

Bobby pulled away as he circled around her and went back to the couch. "I've been lying in a bed for . . . how long was I up there? It doesn't matter, for long enough. I want to sit on my couch and watch TV."

Eames put her hands on her hips as she watched him sit down and put his feet up on the coffee table. "You know, like this," he said as he grabbed the remote.

She growled under her breath. "You're impossible."

Is that a new problem? I don't think so. She should be used to it. He turned on the TV and began channel surfing while Eames sat down and watched him. She hadn't been able to read him very much today, almost as if he'd shut her out. He'd demanded to stop by the office so he could look around and sit in his chair, efforts geared to jarring his still faltering memory. She had to admit, the look of horrified shock on Ross's face had almost been worth it. It took Bobby five minutes to convince the captain that he wasn't trying to come to work his first day home from the hospital. With anyone else, she would have wondered at the man's intelligence for even thinking such a thing, but it seemed a natural assumption with Bobby.

He was switching the channel every five seconds or so and she was pretty sure he couldn't tell her what was on any of them. He seemed to be on autopilot. "Bobby, are you okay?"

He stopped changing channels, but continued to stare at the TV. After several long seconds, he turned his head to look at her. The bandage was gone, the fresh scar and stubble of hair just beginning to grow back was a harsh reminder of his ordeal, one that wasn't over yet.

"I still don't really know you. I don't know what I've been doing the last eight years."

Eames frowned, troubled by the depression she felt coming off him. "But you've been remembering."

He sighed and turned the TV off, dropping his hand with the remote to his lap. "I remember flashes of events that have no meaning. It's like watching TV clips of someone else's life. There's no emotion. It doesn't . . . feel like it's me."

Eames clasped her hands together and stared at them. She suddenly understood what he was saying. She had been so excited about him starting to remember things, that it hadn't occurred to her they might be a string of meaningless flashbacks. He remembered that she was his partner, but he didn't feel that she was his partner.

Bobby glanced over at her, shifting his feet back to the floor and sitting up straighter. "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Even though I don't really remember much about the way we worked together, I do feel . . . like there's some kind of connection. You've really taken care of me the last few weeks and I get the idea that we're a lot more than partners . . . although I'm not sure . . . " He suddenly looked frightened. Crap. I never thought to ask if we were involved. I just assumed we weren't since we were partners.

Eames smiled and shook her head. "No, we aren't involved. We're just really close friends. Bobby… well, we didn't connect at first, but I quickly came to understand you were going to be the best partner I could have for the kind of cop I wanted to be. After that, the connection came quickly. I know that we both had giant voids in our lives that the other just happened to fill." She leaned forward to take his hand. "We had something special . . . we have something special."

Bobby sighed. "I just wish I could feel it," he said quietly, rubbing his forehead as he closed his eyes.

"You will," she whispered. Eames got up and pushed gently on his chest until he leaned back and allowed her to help him lie down. She brought a pillow and blanket to help him be more comfortable before fetching a glass of water and a bottle they had picked up from the pharmacy on the way out of the hospital.

"Take one of these," she said, offering him one of the pills from the prescription bottle. "And don't try to tell me your head doesn't hurt after all that running around this morning.

Bobby didn't argue, perching up on one elbow to pop the pill in his mouth and take a few sips of water before lying back against the pillow. "Thanks."

She gently traced her finger along the outside of the fresh scar, feeling the bristle of new little hairs coming in around it. Bobby watched her through slits in his lids, but didn't move or comment. "I was so scared I'd lose you those first few days. I know that most people think it's the other way around, but you ground me in ways no one else can. I know you don't really feel… us yet, but I know you will." She pulled her hand back and looked at his face. "Rest. I'll be here if you need anything."

He reached up to take her hand and squeeze it, a small smile twitching the corner of his lips.

ooOOoo

Eames opened her eyes and stared into the dark, trying to remember what had awakened her. She could just barely make out the basic outlines of Bobby's living room furniture from her position on the couch. There was a sharp clanging from the kitchen. Her heart jumped into her throat before she realized it must be Bobby.

Eames smiled as she listened to him shuffle around in the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and then closed.

Everything went silent for a few moments, prompting Eames to sit up and listen. Without warning, the sound of glass crashing violently against the wall shattered the stillness. Eames leaped to her feet and sprinted to the kitchen, stopping at the threshold. It took a few seconds to find Bobby, sitting in the floor with his back to the cabinets. His legs were bent at the knees and his arms rested across them, his forehead resting on the back of his right arm. She could feel his despair.

"Bobby, are you all right?"

"No," he whispered. It was several moments before he lifted his head to look up at her, his eyes glinting in the gray light. "I'm not me any more." Crap, I hate this. My head always hurts, I can't remember anything. I practically have a stranger living here and taking care of me because I can't be trusted to function by myself. I can't help put together our latest case because I can't remember any part of the investigation. I'm going to lose what's left of my mind if this keeps up.

Noticing the shiny spot on the far wall, Eames decided her bare feet were safe on this side of the room and she moved over to sit beside him. "That's a strange thing to say. Of course you're you."

"Doesn't seem like it. I feel like I'm slipping away, like my life is sliding out between my fingers and no matter how much I tighten my grip, it just keeps… moving away."

Eames looked at him, knowing his fear. He hadn't forgotten his mother or her illness and but he had once told her that he felt as if his mother had 'been slipping away my whole life", and one of his deepest fears was that he would suffer the same fate. She hadn't thought of it like this until now, and her heart broke for him.

"I have this handful of spotty memories, but none of that really helps me. What if I never remember? What if I forget something that proves critical later on down the line?"

"Bobby, that's a lot of 'what ifs'. You're trying too hard. You need to relax and just... let it come in its own time. It will. Both Dr Gordon and Dr. Kirkus have nothing but very promising and positive diagnoses about your situation. It's just going to take more time."

Bobby leaned his head back against the cabinet and stared off across the dark room. "Maybe I could just hit myself in the head with a frying pan." The image of a frying pan coming at him full force suddenly popped into his head, making him wince. "Never mind, I guess someone tried that already."

Eames smiled and rapped her knuckles on his arm. "That would be from our first case together, and I tried to warn you."

"I'm guessing I didn't duck fast enough."

"No, you didn't. I just realized how many times you've been hit on the head over the years. It's wonder you even know who you are. Maybe we need to get you some protective head gear after this. What's your favorite football team? No, we should probably stick with NYPD issued equipment, I'll put in a request for a riot helmut for you."

She could feel Bobby relax next to her, a trace of a small smile creeping across his face. "Shouldn't you be commenting on my hard head about now?"

"No, this is more fun. But, I'll stop, and cut you a little slack. You look like you could use it." She reached out and put a hand on his arm, "seriously, just give this some time. It's going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. You're stuck with me Bobby Goren, because you're not only my partner, you're my friend. You may not remember that yet, but I certainly do."

Bobby looked at her for a few moments. "If I never remember you . . . do you still want to be partners? That is if NYPD doesn't make me go out on a disability related retirement."

Eames sighed, feeling the internal battle between hope and fear currently being waged in his head. "Ross told me if you started questioning the safety of your job to squelch it immediately. He's willing to wait until you're ready. You're his best detective and you have talents no one else does. He brought in a temporary to help with the case load until you get back, but he made sure everyone knew it was only until you were back on your feet. As far as I'm concerned, you are my only partner. We got to know each other once. If we need to, we can do it again."

Bobby sighed and gave a small nod. "What if I don't want to be your partner?"

She had a moment of pure terror before his mental wall came crashing down and he grinned at her. "Bobby! That wasn't nice," she said sharply as she punched him in the arm, again.

Bobby chuckled. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." The smile faded and he looked down at her. "Seriously, though… thank you. I have to keep saying that to you. Do you always take such good care of me?"

Eames pursed her lips a second before leaning her head over against his shoulder. "Actually, we tend to take care of each other. We try to be there whenever the other one needs us, for however long it takes." She felt his head lean against the top of hers.

"I think I like that arrangement."