Goren walked from the hospital to the hotel, anger keeping his pain at bay. But as his anger faded, he realized the effect of the painkiller they'd injected into his IV was wearing off. Pain settled in on his right side where the truck had clipped him, as well as in his left shoulder and the left side of his head where he'd hit the curb. His head began to pound. Back home, in the place of medical care, he knew exactly where to go to get what he needed, but in Grandview, his options were limited. He could return to the hospital, an option he immediately dismissed because they wanted to admit him. The only other option open to him was the minibar in the corner of his hotel room. The very last thing he needed was to call his partner to bail his ass out of jail on drug charges.

The best he could do was return to his room, have a couple of drinks and sleep off the pain. He was certain Eames would return to the city after seeing that he was fine. It never entered his mind that he was anything but fine, and he certainly didn't believe that Eames would see anything else. He focused on getting to his room and going to bed. He'd think about everything that happened when he woke up. At the moment, he was too tired and in too much pain to do anything but try to sleep.

Eames spoke with the nurse and waited long enough to get the prescription Goren had refused, in the form of a couple of pills as well as a paper script. Then she drove directly to the hotel, parked and went into the lobby. She saw her partner waiting at the elevator and she went directly to his side. "Do you want to explain yourself?" she asked as she stood beside him, being careful to keep her tone non-confrontational. No one could say she didn't learn from her mistakes.

He was surprised to see her. "Explain what?"

"Bobby, you were hit by a truck tonight." She looked up at him. He had a bandage just above his right eye, which was beginning to swell and turn black and blue. "You have a head injury, a couple of rib fractures, and a lot of bruising. I have never known you to disregard medical advice. You should at least stay overnight in the hospital."

The elevator doors opened. "I'm sorry you got called, Eames. I had nothing to do with that."

She followed him into the elevator as he pressed the '3' button. "I'm glad they called me. What's going on with you?"

He looked at her, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

"This is me you're talking to. Something is wrong."

He looked straight ahead at the elevator doors, scowling. "Something's wrong? You mean, like my brother's murder? Or the fact that I was framed for it by the only man I ever loved like a father? Or maybe you mean the descent into madness of the most brilliant mind I've ever known?" He turned his face toward her, his expression grim. "That could be me in fifteen years, Eames."

"No!" she declared vehemently. "You are nothing like Gage!"

Goren shook his head in disagreement as the elevator doors opened on his floor. "You never saw him in his prime. He wasn't always like that."

She had no reply for that and followed him to his room, watching him unlock the door. Then he paused, holding it open. "You can go home. I don't need a babysitter."

"No, but you do need a friend." She gave him a gentle push and crossed the threshold behind him. "You need me."

He stopped suddenly and she ran into his back. He turned around to face her, giving her an odd look. She frowned and asked, "What?"

He remained silent as he studied her face, her words spinning through his mind. You need me. Somehow, she always managed to hit the nail on the head. He did need her. But did she realize just how much he needed her? Probably not. He did his level best to keep that hidden from her. He withdrew from her, and she followed him further into the room. Pulling a small pill bottle from her pocket, she rattled it. "I got your pain medicine. You might be an idiot, but I think you suffer enough under the weight of being you."

She pulled the paper script from her other pocket and placed it on the desk by the television. Then she got a glass of water and dumped one of the pills into her hand, returning to him. Watching her, he hadn't moved. She reached up and pressed the pill past his lips, holding out the glass. He took it from her and drank the water, swallowing the medicine, then set the glass in front of the television.

Silently, she reached out and slowly began to unbutton his shirt. He looked down at her hands. "Wh-What are you doing?"

She didn't have to feel his pulse to know his heart had begun to race. "I want to see your injuries."

She eased his shirt off his shoulders and examined the bruises from the accident on his side from the middle of his ribcage to the waistband of his jeans. She lightly touched the discolored area. He drew in a sharp breath, followed by a deep groan of pain. "Did you fall, Bobby, like Melinda said? Or did you trip?"

He shook his head. "I didn't trip and I didn't just fall."

"Were you drinking?"

"No. I'm sure they drew a BAC, if you don't believe me..."

"That's not necessary," she insisted. What was done, was done.

She reached for his belt. He stepped back, uncertain. "Trust me," she implored. "I need to see your injuries."

When she reached out again, he didn't withdraw. She undid his belt and then his jeans. He gripped the waistband of his jeans, hesitated, then slowly slid them over his hips. He sat with a groan on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes. When he began to lean over to pull off his pants, pain flared in his side and he stopped, closing his eyes and swallowing another deep groan. She moved closer and dropped down to her knees to help him off with his pants. Reluctantly, he allowed it.

She touched a bruise on the side of his knee, following it up his thigh to the leg of his boxers. From his ribcage to his knee, where the truck struck him... She remained kneeling with her hand resting on his knee, and she looked up at him. "What happened?" she asked, knowing that he was not, by nature, a careless man. "How did you get hit by that truck?"

"I...I don't know how it happened. I, uh, I think I remember being pushed, but there was no one around me, so it couldn't have been that." He shrugged. "I can't explain it."

"You're sure you didn't trip?"

He looked down at her hand as her thumb lightly stroked his knee. Much calmer, he closed his eyes and softly said, "I-I didn't trip and I wasn't drunk. I don't know what happened." He forced his eyes open and looked into her face. There was no censure, just concern. "Eames, you-you don't have to stay."

She moved to sit beside him on the bed and said, "I do have to stay. You have to be checked on every couple of hours because of your head injury. So, I am staying to check on you."

He shook his head. "No. That's a lot—too much—to ask. I...I..."

She touched his mouth with her fingertips. "So don't ask. Bobby, how many hours did you sit with me in the hospital after I escaped from Jo Gage? Don't argue with me."

He paused, then shook his head. "That's the last thing I want to do."

"All right then." She stood up and kissed his forehead. "Get ready for bed. I have an overnight bag in the car downstairs. I'll be right back."

She got up and left the room. He went into the bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He touched his cheek below the bruise that was spreading from the laceration near his eye. "Very attractive," he muttered.

"You were always attractive, Bobby," Wallace said from the bath tub.

She watched him wash up and brush his teeth, then examine his bruises again. He remained in his boxers, painfully slipped on a t-shirt and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his socks. He rubbed his temples. Now that he was beginning to relax and the pain medicine was kicking in, he felt dizzy and nauseous.

Wallace sat by the window and watched him. "One bed, Bobby. Where is she going to sleep? This could be very interesting."

He laid back on the bed with a soft groan. Slowly, he turned onto his uninjured side and closed his eyes. In the corner of the room, the mist hovered, angry and red, until Wallace disappeared.

Eames opened her trunk and removed her bag. When she closed the trunk, she saw Jim and Melinda approaching the hotel. She stepped up onto the sidewalk, as the couple neared the hotel entrance. "Detective Eames," Melinda said. "We need to talk to you and Robert."

Eames was reluctant. She just wanted to be alone with him, to judge for herself what his frame of mind was and what he really needed from her. "Not tonight. He needs to rest and heal."

"It's important."

Eames remained adamant. "Not tonight," she repeated firmly. "He will probably be sleeping by the time I get back upstairs. Too much has happened today. Anything you want to discuss can wait a day or so. Come by tomorrow."

"This can't wait," Melinda insisted. "What happened to him tonight, it wasn't an accident."

"What are you talking about?"

Melinda glanced at Jim, then looked back at Eames. "Robert is in danger, but he doesn't realize it."

Eames looked around at the quaint, quiet surroundings of the village. "What kind of danger could he be in around here?"

Melinda didn't blame a cop from the city for scoffing at the idea. She forged ahead with her explanation. "I have a gift. I can see the earthbound spirits of people who have not yet crossed over. Robert has one of those spirits attached to him."

Melinda was accustomed to receiving the look Eames gave her. "Maybe you should go," Eames said cautiously.

"Please, hear me out. He didn't trip or fall in front of that truck. He was pushed."

Goren had said he felt as though he'd been pushed, but Eames remained skeptical. "Pushed? By a ghost? I think maybe scotch had more to do with what happened to him than Jacob Marley."

Jim shook his head. "No. His BAC proved he wasn't drinking."

Melinda's explanation became more urgent. "Sometimes, they're able to interact with the physical world, and this ghost has figured out how to do that."

"Look, I don't know what your game is, but I think you should leave my partner alone."

"I'm not the one he needs protecting from. This ghost is malicious and violent. She wants to take him with her."

"She? He has a female ghost. That figures."

She continued toward the hotel entrance, until Melinda said, "She said her name is Nicole."

Eames stopped in her tracks and dropped her bag. She turned. No... "What did you say?"

"She told me her name is Nicole, and she's gone to lengths to try to convince me that you don't care about him. I can see that the opposite is true. You care about him very much, probably more than he thinks you do."

Eames moved closer to her. "What do you know about Nicole?"

"Not much. She's blonde, petite, and she talks with an accent. She told me that he pursued her for years but never caught her, but she didn't put that in any context."

"What context did you put it in?"

"At first, I thought she might be a jealous ex."

"You have the jealous part right."

Jim said, "Then we thought she might be a criminal he was after, or maybe even one he arrested."

Eames nodded slowly. "Right on both counts, though she was never convicted. She was obsessed with him, and she lashed out to hurt him in any way she could. Last month, just before she was killed, she murdered his brother. He was framed for that murder. It's a long story."

"Well, now she wants to take him with her."

"Take him with her? You mean she wants to kill him, too?"

Melinda nodded. "I'm afraid so. That's why I think he's in danger. Like I said, she's very malicious."

"So she...she pushed him in front of that truck?"

"Yes. I saw her do it."

Eames was torn. She didn't know what to believe, although if anyone could figure out a way to torment Goren from beyond the grave, Nicole would be just the one to do that. "Do you deal with this often?"

"A lot more often than I'd like."

"How can I protect him?"

"I don't know for sure, but he should be careful. I have to get her to cross over, but first I have to figure out why she's here, why she attached herself to him."

"If you'd known her, you wouldn't have to ask that. She set him up to take the rap for another murder six years ago by making it seem like he drove a suspect to commit suicide. She haunted him even before she died." She looked up the side of the building. "I'd better get back up there."

"Both of you, be careful. She has a great deal of animosity toward you, too."

Eames picked up her bag. "She never frightened either of us and she won't start now. Are you sure about this? It's not some kind of prank?"

"I'm positive. Believe me, I wouldn't pull a prank like this. She's messing with him, and it's affecting him."

"I don't doubt that."

Melinda pulled out her card and wrote her cell phone number on the back of it. "Here. Call me if anything happens. I'll do what I can."

Eames took the card and looked at it, then she hurried back into the hotel.

Eames got to the room before she realized she hadn't grabbed the keycard before she left. She knocked but he didn't answer. Finding the night manager, she used her badge and a series of not-so-subtle threats to get him to open the door. As she approached the bed, she watched the slow rise and fall of his chest and dismissed the manager.

She sat lightly on the edge of the bed. "What am I going to do with you?" she whispered as she lightly pulled on his soft curls.

"You can leave him the hell alone," Wallace sneered as she approached the bed and touched Goren's forehead, her ghostly hand near Eames' living one. "He's mine, Detective Eames. You had your chance. Many chances, actually, and you blew it."

As Eames watched, her partner became restless. She leaned closer, making a soft, reassuring sound to settle him. Without waking, he shifted closer to her, relaxing when he made contact with her. In the corner, the mist once again swirled in angry reds and oranges. Wallace made a feral noise and stormed around the room.

Eames looked toward the window as the curtains suddenly billowed angrily. She frowned and went over to the window to close it, surprised to find it was not open. She recalled Melinda's warning, but she now felt foolish for believing any part of what she said. Ghosts. The thought of it alone was simply ridiculous. Nicole Wallace was dead and gone, and so was any threat she posed beyond what still existed in her partner's head. She knew of no way to purge those thoughts from his mind.

She moved the curtains and looked out the window. Goren chose a nice place to gather himself after all he'd been through, and she made up her mind to call Ross in the morning to take off some time to stay here with him and help him do just that.

As she contemplated her plans, Wallace approached her, her face twisted by rage and jealousy. How fair was it that this woman got to exist with Goren when she could not? She braced herself, ready to throw Eames through the thick glass.

The mist moved suddenly, this time interfering with her plans before she could act, saving Eames' life. Wallace glared into the swirling cloud. "Do not cross me," she warned.

When the mist remained between her and Eames, she growled at it. "You can't protect them both," she threatened, and then she was gone.

Eames stepped away from the window, suppressing a shiver. She looked around the room and checked the thermostat. It was a little cool in the room, the same way he kept his apartment. She adjusted the thermostat just a little, then walked back to the bed.

In the corner of the room, the mist gradually settled from its agitated state to a calmer one. It further calmed when Eames leaned over to lightly kiss Goren's temple.

She changed into her favorite pajamas, a light purple satin set with a sleeveless top and shorts. She loved the feel and fit of them. After setting the alarm in her phone to wake her in two hours, she sat lightly beside Goren and gently stroked his hair. He softly sighed and again shifted closer to her. She smiled, then she looked around the room for the most comfortable place to sleep. She got up and began to rearrange the furniture. As she moved the larger of the two chairs toward the bed, she stubbed her toe on it. With a sharp gasp, she let out a cry and a swear, dropping into the chair and cradling her foot in both hands.

At the noise of distress from her, Goren stirred, and his eyelids flickered. He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. "Eames, are you okay? What are you doing?"

She looked up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I just stubbed my foot."

He looked at the foot she cradled in her hands...such a small foot, with perfectly manicured toenails painted pink. "Uhm...D-Doing what?"

"Arranging the furniture so I have a place to sleep."

He shifted his eyes to her face, his brow furrowing, which made his head hurt more. He winced but remained focused on her. "You're going to sleep in the chairs?"

She motioned to the room around them. "Look around, Bobby. I only see one bed in the room, and getting hit by a truck earns you that sleeping place by default."

"But...it's a king-sized bed. I don't need all this room, and you don't take up that much. There's plenty of space for you."

When she didn't move, he cocked his head to the side and said, "I promise I won't bite...hard."

She stared at him for a moment before suddenly laughing. He had the oddest ways of setting her at ease. "Do I have to draw a line down the middle of the bed?"

"I'll be good," he promised.

"Yes, you will," she said firmly. "Are you going to sleep on top of the blanket all night?"

"Would that make you more comfortable?"

Smiling, she walked around the bed and pulled back the blanket. "Come on, get under the blanket."

He moved slowly, pain radiating everywhere. She slowly pulled the sheet and blanket from under him so he wouldn't have to move so much, then she pulled them up over him. "There, isn't that better?"

His breathing was ragged and his eyes were closed. Once the pain settled and he was breathing easier, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Thanks," he said, his voice hoarse.

She knelt on the bed beside him. "I think it would have been a better decision for you to have stayed in the hospital, where they could keep an eye on you and control your pain better."

"I'm just sore," he assured her. "I'm all right."

"Just sore, my ass. You know better than to lie to me, Goren."

The pain was receding as he rested against the two pillows beneath his head and watched her. His left arm was draped above his head and his expression was sleepy. She couldn't help smiling. "Go back to sleep," she said, her tone warm with affection.

"Promise me you won't sleep in the chairs."

"You're okay with me sleeping in the bed with you?"

"Yes. I'm not okay with you sleeping in the chairs."

She slid under the sheet and blanket and stretched out beside him."Happy?"

He had no answer for that. He rolled onto his uninjured side, facing her, tucking his arm under the pillows. He reached toward her with his other arm, running his fingertips over the fabric of her top. "This is nice," he said.

"It's comfortable," she replied.

She arched her back, pressing her stomach against his fingers. He jerked his hand back suddenly. She pulled the sheet up and looked under it. "What? Did it bite you?"

His expression betrayed his confusion. "Bite me? N-No."

She smiled and curled her hand around his. "It's okay," she soothed. "Relax."

His head sank deeper into the pillows as he relaxed. He moved his thumb along hers briefly as his eyes drifted closed.

She watched his breathing even out, and she reached toward him, lightly brushing her fingers over his jawline.

He groaned softly, shifting closer to her. His hand slid around her and he applied gentle pressure to guide her closer to him. It was a subconscious gesture. When someone lay in bed beside him, he wanted her close, so he could hold her as he slept.

She was surprised by the tender intimacy of his desire to have her close, but she didn't resist. In his sleep, he folded his arm around her midsection as he tucked his chin over her head. He draped his leg over hers and sighed again. She snuggled into his embrace, wrapped her arm around him and rested her head against his chest. A slurry of emotions whirled their way through her head as she rubbed her hand over his back. It had been so long...not since Joe... She was warm and comfortable, and she felt safe.

She closed her eyes and fell asleep. In the corner, now fully calm, the mist remained, keeping watch over the sleeping couple.