Noon was approaching when Eames woke, once again cradled in her partner's arms. She could definitely get used to that. Given his basic nature, which was sweet and affectionate, she wasn't all that surprised that he liked to cuddle. In fact, she found it endearing. Resting her head against him, she listened to his breathing. Every so often, a groan of pain rumbled through his chest.

Comfortable and content, she was reluctant to move, but the call of nature had other plans. Carefully, she slid from his arms. He stirred, shifting in her direction, but he settled back to sleep without waking.

When she came out of the bathroom, she returned to the bedside and looked down at her sleeping partner. He was laying on his uninjured side, and she reached out, gently drawing the blanket off him so she could look at his injuries. His bruises had deepened and spread further onto his chest and abdomen. The area over his fractured ribs was the deepest purple. The bruising continued past the waistband of his boxers, extending to his knee. The truck had clipped him and she shuddered to think of the damage it would have caused if it had stuck him full on. He wouldn't have survived that.

When he stirred, her attention was drawn to his hips and she noticed his morning erection. Her cheeks flushed and she jerked the blanket back up to his waist. Unbidden, memories of Joe crept into her mind. Mornings had been his favorite time for sex, and she couldn't help wondering if her partner shared that particular passion. Trying to chase the memories away, her eyes were drawn back to Goren's waist.

Across the room, near the window, Wallace watched her. "Embarrassed, my dear detective?" she taunted.

Eames reached out and lightly stroked Goren's arm. He shifted, then groaned in pain. When she stroked his hair and trailed her fingers to his cheek, he tipped his head, pressing his cheek into her touch without waking. He moved his hips and groaned again. Infuriated by his response to his partner, Wallace made a feral sound and threw the floor lamp toward the bed. The mist interfered with the path of the lamp and it fell to the floor with a crash, landing near Eames without hitting her.

Eames jumped away from the lamp, looking around the room nervously. Goren woke with a start at the noise, lurching to a sitting position. Pain erupted everywhere and his vision faded to darkness. Eames caught him, gently easing him back onto the pillows. After a few seconds, his eyelids fluttered and he groaned. His chest was on fire, the pain radiating into his hip. His breathing was labored as he opened his eyes and looked at her, almost surprised to see her standing over him. His eyes were as bright with pain as hers were dark with worry. She grabbed the pill bottle from beside the phone on the nightstand and dumped the last pill into her hand. "Take this," she said. "We'll get your prescription filled after you get up."

He slowly eased himself into a sitting position against the headboard as she handed him the medicine and retrieved a glass of water for him. "How do you feel?" she asked as he swallowed the pill.

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes as she removed the glass from his hand. Gradually, he calmed and his breathing evened out. He quietly answered, "Like I was run over by a truck. How about I stay here and you fill the prescription?"

"Nice try," she said, glancing at the fallen lamp. "We need to talk to your friend Melinda."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, his brow furrowed. "Melinda? What for?"

"Trust me. You have to hear what she has to say."

"About what?"

"You need to hear it from her. It may have something to do with that-" She pointed at the lamp. "-and with what happened last night."

"What are you talking about? What happened last night?"

"The light bulbs exploding like that...I don't think it was a power surge."

Confused, he shook his head. "What else could it have been? Of course it was a power surge."

She motioned toward the lamp laying on the floor. "You can't tell me that was a power surge."

He looked at the lamp. He had no explanation for how the lamp ended up on the floor in the middle of the room, but Eames had an idea, and she didn't like it. She laid her hand on his and squeezed. "Just be your usual charming, open-minded self and listen to what she has to say."

He turned his hand over and closed his fingers around hers, studying her face. "You stayed in the bed with me, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. And it was very comfortable," she admitted with a smile.

His face was still taut with pain, but beyond the pain, his expression was soft. He moistened his lips and softly said, "Thank you, Eames."

She cocked her head in a way she'd seen him do a hundred times. "For what?"

He didn't look away. "Thank you...for staying."

She stroked his thumb with hers, a tender gesture, and she knew he wasn't referring just to the fact that she'd stayed with him the night before, that she had taken care of him. He was thanking her for never completely giving up on him, for staying at his side for so many years, for being his partner, his friend, even when it wasn't such an easy thing to do.

She leaned in and softly kissed his mouth. "Get dressed and we'll grab a bite to eat before we talk to Melinda."

He watched her, his eyes aglow with warm affection. Moving slowly, he pushed the blanket aside and got up from the bed. He was stiff and sore, with most of the pain centered in the right side of his chest. He stifled a groan and braced his side with his arm, limping slowly to the bathroom. Eames watched him sympathetically. Nearby, Wallace appeared, also watching him, but without sympathy. The mist moved to position itself between her and the two detectives. With a sneer, Wallace growled at the mist, "I failed this time, but I won't fail a second time. Next time, he's mine."

She vanished. The mist remained where it was, seemingly determined to protect both Goren and Eames.

By the time he was dressed, his pain medicine had kicked in. Although he was clearly still in pain, he was more relaxed, moving a little easier. When they left the hotel room, the protective mist left with them.

After visiting the pharmacy and getting his prescription filled, they stopped in a nearby diner for something to eat. Then they walked through the square to Melinda's store. As they crossed the square, Eames reached out and touched his hand. He looked at her before closing his fingers around hers, and she smiled. His mouth turned up into a soft smile that touched her heart.

Melinda and Delia looked over the classified ads, searching for estate sales to attend over the next few days. They looked up when the door to the store opened. Melinda was relieved to see the two detectives. Oddly, she was equally relieved to see the mist that accompanied them like a faithful dog, determined to guard over them. "Hello," she greeted them. "How are you feeling, Robert?"

"All right, I guess, considering. Very sore."

She looked at Eames. "You had a quiet night?"

"Not really," Eames answered. "That's why we stopped by. I wanted to continue the conversation we had outside the hotel last night."

Goren scowled. "Conversation? What conversation?"

She laid her hand on his arm and shushed him. "This is important, Bobby."

Melinda squeezed Delia's arm. "Why don't you run and get lunch, Delia?"

"Do you want me to bring something back for you?"

"That'd be great. Thanks."

Delia smiled at the two city cops as she grabbed her purse and left the store. Melinda turned her attention to them. "Did you tell him?"

Eames shook her head. "No. I thought it would be better coming from you, since you understand what's going on."

Goren watched the exchange with interest, his curiosity piqued. "Exactly what is going on?"

Melinda read encouragement in his warm brown eyes. "What happened yesterday was not an accident, Robert."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She looked at Eames, who nodded for her to continue. "I have a gift—or a curse, depending on how you look at it. I'm able to interact with earthbound spirits."

He continued to look at her, but there was no censure in his expression. "Earthbound spirits?"

Melinda expected a reaction similar to the one Eames had given her, and she was surprised by his apparent willingness to consider what she said. She nodded. "They are the spirits of people who haven't crossed over into the light. Some of them have unfinished business or loved ones they aren't prepared to leave behind. Many of them are confused and don't realize they are dead. A few don't want to cross over for whatever reason. Most of them attach themselves to a living person."

Still scowling, Goren tried to process Melinda's explanation. He looked at Eames, who touched his arm, reassuring. Then he looked back at Melinda. "This has something to do with me?"

"I'm afraid so. You have a ghost attached to you, a malicious, angry ghost."

"A female ghost," Eames said, her tone guarded.

His back stiffened and the muscles in his jaw knotted. "I, uh, I have a ghost-" He looked at Eames. "-a female ghost, attached to me?"

"She's blond, petite, and she said her name is Nicole."

Goren went very still, except for his left hand, which clenched and unclenched. His breathing rate increased noticeably. "N-Nicole," he breathed. "No..."

"She was a criminal you never caught."

"We caught her," he answered absently. "She just wasn't convicted."

Eames didn't take her worried eyes from her partner. "She tormented you," she said softly.

She saw the tension in his shoulders and the set of his jaw. "She's dead," he murmured. "Declan killed her."

"Yes, she is dead," Melinda confirmed. "And her ghost is attached to you."

His face was pale and a sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. "Bobby," Eames said softly, touching his arm.

He turned his head slowly to look at her. He felt as though he was under water. Breathing and moving took almost more effort than he was able to make. She met his eyes and reached out to close her hand over his arm. The physical contact drew him back to her. The fog cleared from his mind. "I, uh...the accident...last night. I, I, uhm, I felt like I was p-pushed..."

Melinda nodded. "You were pushed. She feels like she has some kind of claim on you."

"Of course she does," Eames snapped, angry and bitter on behalf of her partner. She knew he wouldn't have the sense to feel that way himself. "Bobby, she wants to take you with her."

His brow furrowed. "Take me...Take me with her? Why would she think I would want to go?"

"She's not giving you any choice," Melinda said.

Without taking her eyes from her partner, Eames said, "Last night, several light bulbs in the hotel room exploded. It could have been a power surge..."

Slowly, Goren shook his head. "No. It was her."

"Bobby..."

"And the lamp this morning... It makes sense, Eames. It was her."

Eames still struggled with the idea of a ghost haunting her partner, her natural pragmatism kicking in, but she had no better explanation. She wasn't surprised, however, that Goren did not doubt Melinda, who was watching them. Quietly, she said, "She wants you dead, Robert."

"Some things never change," he said.

Eames shook her head. "She never wanted you dead. She had too much fun tormenting you."

Wallace materialized nearby. "Like he said, some things never change," she said.

She started toward the partners, but the mist moved quickly, blocking her path. Her expression turned dangerous. "Get out of my way," she snarled.

The mist, which was more dense than when it first appeared, remained in place. Wallace let out a roar of frustration, and several glasses on a nearby shelf exploded into shards, which flew toward Melinda and the two detectives. However, instead of slicing human flesh, as Wallace intended, they hit the mist and fell harmlessly to the floor. With a scream of rage, Wallace disappeared, shattering several more glasses in her wake.

Unconsciously, Goren had moved in front of Eames, using his body to shield her from harm when the first glasses blew apart. Melinda had retreated to the far end of the counter. He turned to look at her. "Was that Nicole?"

She nodded. "Yes. She's very angry."

"So she...she can interact with...this plane of existence?"

"Yes. Some spirits learn how to do that, and they can be very dangerous."

Goren motioned toward the broken glass on the floor. "There's more that you aren't telling us. The trajectory of that glass...something stopped it."

Again, Melinda nodded. "There is something else that has apparently attached itself to you, but I have no idea what it is."

"Not a ghost?" Eames said.

"No, not like anything I have experienced. It appears as a mist, but anything else is speculation. It seems to react to your moods, Robert. When the ghost is around, you tend to get agitated and so does it. When she isn't around, it's calm, but it's never far from you."

Eames recognized the look on Goren's face. He was thinking, trying to figure out a puzzle, which was something he was extremely good at doing. "Nicole...she was dangerous when she was alive. And now...she's even more dangerous."

Melinda agreed with him. "Yes, she is. And if it wasn't for that mist, you might have been killed by that truck."

Concern clouded Goren's dark eyes and he turned to his partner. "Eames...you, you should go...go home..."

"No," Melinda said. "I don't think that's a good idea. Spirits can travel at will, so there is nothing to keep Nicole from showing up in New York, or in the car on the way back there, and harming Detective Eames, then coming back here to you. She is jealous of her, and there is nothing to prevent her from hurting her. Whatever that mist is, it seems intent on protecting both of you. You are safest if you are together. I honestly don't think it's inclined to leave you, Robert, so I would suggest you remain together."

Goren kept his attention focused on his partner, his expression once more soft. "I can do that," he said quietly. "Eames?"

She held his gaze and nodded. "Yes, we can do that."

He looked relieved. Every fiber in his being wanted to protect her, but how could he protect her from a threat he could not see?