Eames woke easily when her alarm went off less than two hours later. She found herself spooned against his body, held firmly in place by his embrace. Her heart leaped. She liked this position entirely too much. She shifted against him. "Wake up, Bobby."

It took a few tries, but she finally succeeded in waking him. As he became aware of their respective positions, he jerked away from her. "Eames...I-I'm sorry."

She turned over to face him. "Sorry for what?" she asked, keeping her tone even.

"Did I...I mean, was I...uh...? I-I thought the bed was big enough..."

She laughed lightly. "The bed is just the right size," she answered. "You didn't do anything wrong. You just held me, and it was nice. It was very nice."

"Are you sure?"

She slid across the sheets into his arms and snuggled against his body. "I think I would have noticed if you'd done anything objectionable. You're spoiling me. I like this."

Wrapping his arms tentatively around her, he finally relaxed and held her in a comfortable embrace. They both went back to sleep.

When the alarm went off again, Eames rolled over to empty space beside her. She opened her eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. She got onto her knees and knelt behind him, placing her hands over his. His hands slid away and he rested his head back against her chest as she continued to massage his temples. Resting her head against his, she spoke softly into his ear. "You should lay down."

He didn't want to move because in order for him to move, she would have to move as well, and he wasn't willing for her to do that just yet. Slowly, he tipped his head back so he could look at her. His eyes scanned her face; she did not withdraw. He turned around slowly, drawing her closer and closing his eyes as his lips brushed over hers. She trembled and slid her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Across the room, Wallace watched. When he initiated the kiss and she did not reject him, she felt rage boil up from deep inside. "No..." she growled. "Nooo!"

The light bulb in the lamp on the desk exploded, followed by the one by his side of the bed. Eames broke the embrace, jumping off the bed away from the broken glass, as Goren turned to look at the lamp beside the bed. He turned too fast, and pain erupted in his side, radiating into his hip and his head. He doubled over with a groan.

Slivers of glass from the shattered bulbs littered the bed and the floor in front of the desk, surrounding him. Eames turned on the light by her side of the bed and stepped into her shoes, hurrying around to his side. His body had shielded her from the exploding bulbs. The back of his shirt was covered with shattered glass, and he had glass in his hair.

"Are you all right?" she asked, gently trying to brush the glass from his hair with shaking hands.

He nodded, "I'm okay. Are you?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, struggling to keep her voice steady. "What caused that?"

He shrugged as the pain began to ease. "A power surge, probably. I'll call the front desk."

He picked up the phone and dialed the lobby. The apologetic desk clerk promised to send housekeeping right up to clean up the glass and replace the bulbs. While he made the call she went into the bathroom and found a comb in his shaving bag. She returned to him. "Let's get this shirt off you."

A power surge seemed a reasonable explanation to his mind, but she had nagging doubts as she tried to control the shakiness she felt. Melinda's warning replayed itself over and over in her head. If there was any truth to Melinda's claims, Eames had no doubt Wallace would be as malicious and dangerous in death as she had been in life...perhaps even moreso because there did not seem to be a way for them to protect themselves against her now.

She carefully helped him removed his shirt and then shook it out over the already contaminated bed. Gently, she began to comb the glass from his hair. The simple act of pulling the comb through his hair helped to calm her and relax him. He closed his eyes and focused on her, away from his pain. When she was sure there was no more glass in his hair, she brushed her hands over his back, making sure his skin was also free of the small, sharp shards.

When she moved away from him, he slowly opened his eyes, giving her a half-smile when she handed him his shoes. After he slipped them on, she held out her hand. Looking at her face for a moment, he took her hand and allowed her to lead him to the chair by the window. As he slowly lowered himself into the chair, she retrieved a blanket from the closet and placed it in his lap. That was much less painful for him than pulling on his jeans. She turned on the closest light and pulled the other chair next to his. Sitting down, she reached out to touch the leading edge of the bruises that spread from his side onto his chest, trailing her fingertips lightly along the discoloration. He watched her fingers for a moment, then he grasped her hand and lightly kissed the pads of each finger. She softly gasped at the heat that spread from her fingers with each kiss.

A knock at the door forced him to release her hand. The lock on the door disengaged and the door opened. "Hello? Housekeeping."

"Come in," Eames called out.

The woman propped the door open and came into the room. "I am so sorry this happened," she said as Eames showed her the remnants of the two light bulbs.

Eames returned to her chair as the housekeeper got to work. After changing the sheets, she plugged in her vacuum cleaner and worked on vacuuming the glass from the carpet. The noise from the machine pounded and echoed in Goren's head, intensifying his headache. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his head on his hand, nauseous and fatigued. Eames reached out and stroked his hair.

Once she was certain all the glass had been cleaned up, the housekeeper replaced the bulbs, made the bed and gathered her things, apologizing again for what happened. She left the room, and they were alone again, almost. The mist remained in the corner, undulating blue and green.

Goren had begun to nod off in the chair, so Eames ushered him to the bed. He eased himself back against the pillows and watched her. She seemed awfully keyed up, which he was unable to fully explain. She should have gone back to the city. Quietly he asked, "Why did you stay, Eames? You could have gone back to New York."

"You're my partner. I stayed to take care of you. That's what partners do."

He didn't know if she was affirming that or reminding him of it, but at the moment, he didn't care. "You surprised me. I thought...I thought you would have gone back to the city."

"I'm not going back until I'm convinced that you're okay."

"Okay? Am I ever okay?"

She studied his face, which reflected both confusion and relief. He was right. It had been a very long time since he had been okay. It was a circumstance she wanted to change. Softly, she answered, "As long as I'm here you are."

He let her words tumble around in his head, then he motioned to her and waited for her to crawl in beside him. As she climbed into the bed, he reached out a tentative hand toward her. When she settled into the crook of his embrace, he relaxed, turning onto his side and nuzzling his face in her hair. He exhaled slowly and whispered softly, "You're right. I am as okay as I ever get when you're around."

She felt the weight of his body against hers as he drifted to sleep, but she had trouble following him. Melinda's words of caution about the ghost of Nicole Wallace haunting her sensitive partner now haunted her.

She was still awake when it was time to wake him again, so she reset the alarm before it went off. She still had to invest some effort into waking him, but his mind cleared in a reasonable amount of time, so she wasn't overly concerned.

"You're still here," he murmured sleepily.

She smiled and gently stroked the side of his face. "Where else would I be?"

He shrugged. "Somewhere...else."

She recalled what Gage had said to him about everyone always leaving him and his admission that he thought it was his fault. She shook her head. "No. I'm here and I'm going to stay."

He gave her a small, sleepy grin and turned his head unexpectedly. His mouth brushed her palm and he kissed it. She didn't pull away. Slowly, he raised his hand to grasp hers, and he lightly kissed the inside of her wrist. Her stomach fluttered. "Stay here with me?" he asked, his breath caressing her wrist, causing more fluttering that began to wriggle outward from her stomach.

She moved closer to him. "I promise," she said.

Satisfied, he closed his eyes, shifting toward her until his head rested against her chest. He softly sighed. At that moment, there was no past and there was no future. There was only the present and he was content to simply be with her. She stroked his hair as his breathing became slow and steady. Resting her hand on his back, she closed her eyes and tried to send thoughts of Nicole Wallace far away from her mind.

In the darkest hours of the night, before dawn broke, Wallace appeared in the room again. Seeing the partners snuggled together in the bed made her angry. She was not going to tolerate the two of them becoming closer. He was hers and she was taking him with her, one way or another. Reaching out, she touched him, expecting the same unsettled reaction he always had when she touched him.

He shifted against the woman in his arms, burying his face in her hair as he slept. He felt the familiar touch, his mind interpreting it as hers. His hips jerked forward, into her the curve of her firm butt, and he softly groaned.

Wallace pulled back from the bed, furious that he was turning his attention to another, believing that on some level, he knew she was there. Her anger escalated to a blinding rage deep inside her. "No!" she screamed, though no one could hear her. "He is mine, you bitch!"

She launched herself toward the bed, but the mist moved out of the corner, once more a roiling storm of red and orange. Since it had first appeared, it had been gaining strength and knowledge of the world it had left behind, and it successfully blocked Wallace's attack. "Get the hell out of my way!" she screamed at it, lashing out as she tried unsuccessfully to cause it harm.

In a fit of rage, she knocked the phone off the nightstand, ripping the cord from the wall jack. She ran at the wall and vanished through it.