The next morning, Eames was again the first to waken. Goren was settled on his uninjured side, seeming to rest easily. His breathing was slow and steady, though still punctuated by an occasional soft grunt of pain. His right hand was resting on her hip, and she found it comforting. Reluctantly, she moved his hand and slid out of the bed.

After finishing in the bathroom, she dressed and got ready to go out on a breakfast run, not thinking twice about it. She slipped into her shoes and reached for her purse. The television suddenly switched on, its volume jumping to maximum. Their protector was unwilling for them to separate, where it would be unable to protect them both.

Startled awake, Goren jumped out of the bed, disoriented. Pain flared in his side, and he sat heavily on the side of the bed, holding his side and breathing hard. Eames scrambled to turn off the set and she hurried to his side. "Wh-what's going on?" he asked, his mind still fogged with sleep. He looked at her, noticing that she was dressed. "Where...where are you going?"

"I was just going to get us breakfast."

"Alone?"

"I think I can manage a couple of bagels and two cups of coffee by myself."

Panic cleared his mind quickly. "No," he insisted. "You-You can't go out alone."

"Bobby..."

"Please...this is..." He slid his hands into hers. "You have to..." He stopped again, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts. He looked at her, eyes pleading. "What Melinda said...I...I have to, I mean, you..."

If he wasn't so upset, she would find his inability to form a cohesive thought amusing. She honestly thought that Melinda was overreacting by insisting that they remain together, but his ready agreement had surprised her. She had gone along with him to settle his agitation, which it had. "Do you think that maybe Melinda overreacted?" she asked.

He tightened his grip on her hands. "No," he murmured. "No, I don't. Nicole was always a threat. Now, if what Melinda says is true, she's more of a threat than she ever was."

"Suppose she's wrong? Maybe that was just a power surge. Maybe there is a reasonable explanation for everything that happened, one that has nothing to do with Nicole."

He considered what she said and he knew that her practical approach to life made it difficult for her to accept Melinda's supernatural explanation for recent events. He looked around the room and slowly shook his head. "We have no real proof, either way," he said reasonably, much calmer. "But I would rather play it safe. Please...humor me."

Finally, she nodded. "All right, Goren. I'll humor you."

Releasing her hands, he reached out and tentatively stroked her cheek. She leaned into his touch and smiled warmly. His heart had stopped pounding and now simply fluttered with deep emotion. He leaned toward her and brushed his lips across hers.

She shifted closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His head began to spin again, only this time medication had nothing to do with it. He groaned softly, burning with desire, and gently fingered the hem of her shirt.

Present in the room for the first time since the previous afternoon, Wallace watched them with growing rage. Near the bed, the mist hovered. Wallace, for whatever reason, had left the couple alone for awhile, but the mist had not left its post as protector of the two. As time continued to pass, the mist continued to increase in strength, and it remained positioned between Wallace and her prey.

When Wallace started toward the bed, the mist swelled to almost twice its previous size. It seemed determined to keep the two people safe from her, and that made her even angrier. "If you were smart, you'd get out of my way," she growled menacingly.

The mist continued to roil in place, blocking her path. Behind it, oblivious to the conflict between the two spirits, Goren gently worked off his partner's shirt. He really didn't care if Wallace was watching or not. She meant nothing to him. The woman in his arms, however, meant everything to him, and he wasn't shy about showing her, if she was receptive to his advances, which she seemed to be. Also, his injured body was hurting and, medication aside, he knew that a good way to get relief from the pain was through sex.

"No," Wallace snarled, rage and jealousy causing her to tremble. She let out a howl of fury, grabbed the drapes and yanked hard.

Eames jumped away from Goren as the drapes crashed to the floor. A painting dropped from the wall, breaking the frame, and the window flew open. Shirtless, Eames stared across the room.

Glaring at the intrusive mist, Wallace growled, "You haven't seen the last of me. I will destroy you."

She vanished but the mist remained in place. After a moment, Goren got up and walked to the window, closing it. He took a moment to look outside. It was ominously overcast, the skies dark and stormy. He scratched the side of his head and turned to look at Eames, motioning at the drapes and the fallen picture. "And your reasonable explanation for this is?"

She had retrieved her shirt and pulled it back on, sitting on the edge of the bed. She was pale. "Please tell me you have one," she answered.

He walked to her and sat beside her, sliding his arm around her. Unashamed, she pressed herself against him. She did not object to his protective embrace or the kiss he pressed onto her head. She was deeply unsettled by the unexplained series of events...well, not entirely unexplained. She was troubled even more by the only explanation they had: Nicole Wallace.

He wished he had a reasonable explanation for her; he did not. All he could do was hold her, so that was what he did.

By the time they had settled enough to eat, it was lunchtime and they went to the diner near the square. Melinda was just leaving the building as they approached, and she smiled at them in greeting. "How do you feel, Robert?"

"I'm getting by," he assured her.

"Is everything all right?"

He looked at Eames, who answered, "She's still around."

Melinda nodded. "I don't think she's going to go anywhere on her own. She's angry and possessive, and she's determined to get her way."

"Which is taking me with her," Goren muttered.

"Yes."

"So what do we do?" Eames asked.

Slowly, Melinda shook her head. "I don't know, but I will figure something out. Why don't you both come over to my house for dinner tonight? Jim gets off at four, so how about six-thirty?"

Eames looked at Goren, who placed his hand on her back. She nodded and he shifted his gaze to Melinda. "All right. Six-thirty."

Thunder rumbled across the sky, and they looked up at the dark clouds. Melinda pulled her sweater more tightly around her. "Looks like it's going to be a bad storm," she said.

"That's what the news said," Goren agreed.

She opened her bag and pulled out a note pad. She wrote on it and tore off the sheet, handing it to Goren. "That's my address. I'll see you this evening."

She gave them another smile and walked past them. Goren watched her walk away as he opened the diner door for his partner. He hoped Melinda could figure out how to get rid of Wallace. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his life dealing with her and he was certainly not going to risk Eames' life. Wallace needed to move on, and he was definitely not going with her.

The waitress delivered their lunch, and as they began to eat, Goren's phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. He didn't answer it, but his expression told Eames who it was. "Gage?" she said.

He nodded as he put the phone back in his pocket. "I know you don't like him. I...I haven't been taking his calls, and that kind of pisses him off. He...he doesn't think he did anything wrong. He can be, uh, difficult."

She was quiet for a moment. "It's not just that, Bobby. He's more than difficult. He's done...unforgivable things...to his daughter, to you."

Goren looked at his plate. "Jo..." he said with guilt. "I...I kind of had a hand in that. When I first met Gage, she was a kid, and I was so engrossed in him and what he had to teach me, I kind of ignored her, too. I shouldn't have done that. I should have been more observant, more sensitive to her. I should have paid attention to her."

She shook a finger at him. "Goren, don't you dare take ownership of what Jo became. That was Gage's doing. She was his daughter and his responsibility. I'll bet she was well on her way to psychopathy by the time you came around."

Slowly, he nodded. "That's fair. But I still feel bad for ignoring her. Maybe if I'd paid some attention to her, she wouldn't have chosen to target you. That was my fault."

Eames shook her head, annoyed. "We've been through this. What happened to me was not your fault and I've apologized for blaming you."

He stared at the tabletop beside his plate. "I'm not looking for any kind of apology from you, Eames. You don't owe me that."

She took a drink of coffee and wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. "I admit I hated Gage for what his daughter did to me, because ultimately, that was all on him. Even more than that, though, I hate him for what he did to you, for teaming up with Nicole and framing you for Frank's murder under the guise of 'saving' you." Her tone intensified and became more passionate as she tightened her grip on her cup. "You've been through enough, and he made it worse. He betrayed you in the worst way, and I will never, ever forgive him for that. The only thing I don't hate him for is for what he did to Nicole. With that, he did us a favor."

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Did he?"

"You don't think so?" she challenged, trying not to react until she knew exactly what he meant.

He hesitated, then answered in a quiet, guilty voice. "She killed my brother. I would have preferred to see her go to prison for what she did, to be properly punished for her crimes. I think she got off too easy. And now...well, who's being punished? Certainly not Nicole."

She didn't misinterpret the bitterness in his tone and she felt reassured that his emotions were in the right place. "We've dealt with her before; we'll deal with her now. As long as we face her together, she'll never win."

He held her gaze for a long time. After all the grief he'd caused her, she still remained steadfastly in his corner, ready to face adversity and defend him against the world. He gave her a soft smile, trying to hide the guilt he felt. Gently, he reached out and took her hand. Raising it to his lips, he softly kissed her fingers.

She felt the soft touch of his lips travel like an electric charge to the center of her body, where it radiated to places he had yet to touch. It had been such a very long time since she'd felt so drawn to a man. Nicole was a serious threat to him, and she was determined to do whatever she could to keep him safe from her. But she had never been able to insulate him from her, and she was worried about him. It had been a long and winding road to where they were right now, and somewhere along the way, he had worked his way into her protected heart. All she wanted to do now was keep him alive, with her, so she would not have to bury what was left of her heart in another grave.

Releasing her hand, he turned back to his lunch. Perhaps Nicole was jealous and angry that he was getting closer to Eames, but in a real way, she was the one who was responsible for it. If she hadn't pushed him in front of that truck, Eames would still be in New York. He wouldn't be sitting here with her now, and he wouldn't know how much she still cared for him. He might possibly have never known. Still...he was determined to remain between her and Wallace, to defend her against the threat Wallace posed to her. Except for Eames, he had lost everyone who meant anything to him. He was not going to lose her, too. Whatever happened, he would do everything in his power to see that no harm came to her, no matter what it cost him.

Melinda sat at the kitchen island as Jim cooked dinner. He looked over his shoulder at her. "So, you like this city cop?"

"I really do. He's a sweet man. He's not sure about what's going on, but he didn't dismiss what I told him. He's open-minded."

The doorbell rang, and she went to answer it. Rick Payne came through the door, shrugging off his raincoat and hanging it on the coat rack. "Tell me some more about this mist," he said without preamble.

"Hello to you, too," she said with a laugh. "I don't know anything more, except that it doesn't seem to stray far from Robert."

"His ghost, she's strong?" He headed toward the kitchen. "Something smells good."

She followed him. "She's very strong and very dangerous."

Rick waved at Jim as they entered the kitchen and he speculated, "So, could this mist be another ghost? A new ghost, maybe, one that isn't quite so strong yet?"

"That makes sense. But it seems to be gaining strength quickly, from what I can tell. At the very least, it's becoming strong enough to protect him from Nicole, and that's making her very angry."

"And a lot more dangerous," he agreed, grabbing a piece of carrot from the salad on the kitchen island. "What's for dinner?"

"Rib roast," Melinda answered with a laugh. "Would you like to join us?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Goren stepped out of the shower, toweled off and pulled on his boxers. Stepping to the sink, he noticed a glass of water beside the pill bottle that held his pain medication. Eames. She did her best to watch out for him, but more than that, she honestly cared. That was more than he could say about anyone else in his life, and that had been the case for as long as he'd known her. No one cared about him more than his partner did. He stopped short of admitting she loved him, though, because if he allowed himself to dwell on it, he would only cause himself more grief. It was enough for him to admit that she cared.

He dumped two of the pills into his hand and swallowed them with the water, doing his best not to dwell on the fact that she had stepped into the room, for whatever reason, while he showered. He felt a surge of desire and struggled to chase it away.

He opened his shaving kit and looked in the mirror. Turning his head to the side, he examined his bruised face, lightly touching the area of dark discoloration that surrounded his eye, extending up into his hair and down almost to his jaw. "Nice," he grumbled as he took out his shaving cream and set out his razor.

He looked back at the mirror and turned a little to the left, examining the extensive bruising the truck had caused. He lightly touched his hip, where the bruise went down to the bone, then he looked at his side. Fractured ribs caused him a lot of pain and more bruises covered most of that side of his chest. What a train wreck.

Bracing his hands on the sink, he hung his head and closed his eyes, slowly drawing air deeper into his lungs. When it began to hurt, he drew in a little more air before he let his breath out slowly. Focusing on the pain, he repeated the process, pushing it a little further each time.

A knock at the door broke his concentration. "Bobby? Is everything okay in there?"

He paused for a moment to give the searing pain in his chest a chance to settle so he wouldn't worry her. "Uh...yeah, fine, Eames. I'm just shaving."

"Oh. Okay. Give a yell if you need me."

He hesitated for a moment. "Eames?"

"Yes?"

He looked at the closed door. "I always need you."

There was no response. Then, the doorknob turned and she pushed the door open just far enough to poke in her head. He motioned for her to come in, which she did. Stepping to his side, she looked at his reflection, at the extensive bruising on his body. She rested her hand on his stomach. "You were lucky," she said softly.

"I've been lucky for a long time," he answered, looking at her in the mirror. "I just never realized it."

Moving from his side, she grabbed a towel and, leaving it folded in half, she laid it on the toilet seat and motioned for him to sit down. She picked up the can of shaving cream, shook it, and dispensed some into her hand. She rubbed the cream into a lather in her palm and then tenderly applied it to his face. After rinsing her hands, she picked up the razor. As she drew the sharp edge across his face, he closed his eyes. Lilac mingled with the scent of the shaving cream, creating a new scent in his mind that would forever be arousing.

Slowly, she scraped the razor's edge over his skin, rinsing it in warm water between each stroke as she cleared the stubble from his face. After drawing the razor over his skin in a final sweep, she set it beside the sink and grabbed a clean towel. He opened his eyes as she gently wiped the remaining shaving cream from his face. Running her fingertips over his smooth jaw, she searched for any stray whiskers she might have missed. He watched her, his eyes smoldering, and tipped up his chin slightly, a silent invitation she was free to ignore.

Her heart skipped a beat when his face moved closer to hers, however slight the movement. His meaning was clear to her, and she leaned closer, giving him the kiss he obviously wanted. He slid his hands along her legs, pulling her against him as he slipped his tongue past her lips. Her arms encircled his neck and she caressed his bare skin. When she drew back, he released her, though reluctantly. With a soft smile, she stroked his lips with her fingers and whispered, "Get dressed. We don't want to be late."

He watched her leave the room and softly groaned. Another shave like that and he would implode. Moving carefully, he slowly dressed. He stepped out of the bathroom, stopping to watch her as she leaned over the desk toward the mirror to apply mascara to her lashes. Her beauty, to him, needed no enhancement, but he said nothing. Lifting his bag from the floor, he set it on the bed and pulled out a tie which he slid beneath his collar. He continued to watch her as he skillfully secured his tie with a Windsor knot.

Eames gathered her makeup into a small bag, zipping it closed before she turned to her partner. With a smile, she reached out and straightened his tie, smoothing it with the flat of her hand. He leaned toward her to kiss her again. He wanted more of her but she wasn't willing and he accepted that. He understood that she was unsettled at the thought of Nicole Wallace lurking nearby.

"Ready to go?" she asked as she broke the kiss again and stepped back.

He released her, his tension palpable, which concerned her. "Bobby? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he replied with a shake of his head. "I, uhm, yeah...I'm ready to go."

She didn't move, waiting for more of an explanation.

He touched her arm, steering her gently toward the door. "Now isn't the time," he said softly.

Finally, she gave in and let him guide her from the room.

The leading edge of the storm had rolled into Grandview sometime around four. A huge storm front loomed behind it, accompanied by loud, rumbling thunder, intense ground-to-cloud lightning and gale-force wind. The sky was black with roiling clouds. Rain fell lightly at first, becoming heavier as the storm moved into the area. It now fell in torrential sheets that made it difficult to see.

As Eames drove toward the address Melinda had given them, she was troubled by the apprehension she sensed in Goren. Unlike her, he loved storms-the more violent, the better. Several years ago, they'd gone to Miami, following a lead in a case, when a hurricane made landfall. His excitement had been contagious, even though she didn't particularly like storms. But now, his apprehension interfered with his enjoyment of the huge storm. On some level, Eames realized, Goren was aware of Nicole Wallace, and that bothered her. His odd connection with criminals always bothered her, but it was even more troubling with Wallace.

She pulled to the curb in front of the house and parked. Then she turned to Goren, who was deeply distracted, touching his arm. "We're here."

He looked at her for a moment before her words registered and he shook off his distraction. He rubbed his temple and took a moment to gather himself while she waited, not rushing him.

He was in no hurry to exit the car into the storm, and he took the time to reach out and grasp her hand. She didn't pull away. He wanted so much to tell her how he felt about her, but the words were lost to him. He wasn't even sure the right words existed to describe what was in his heart. Every phrase that came to his mind seemed woefully inadequate. But he felt compelled to tell her something. His thumb stroked hers as he watched the frequent lightning illuminate her face. With a soft smile, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and said, "You...You're beautiful. I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, but it must have been something damn good."

"You should give yourself more credit," she said with deep affection. "You never deserved to be miserable."

He shrugged. "It's just about all I know any more."

"Well, then, we'll just have to change that."

His eyes almost glowed as he smiled at her. "You're more than welcome to try."

"I accept the challenge." She gave him a quick kiss, then pointed toward the house. "There's Melinda. Let's make a dash for it."

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm not in any condition to be dashing anywhere," he complained.

"Are you saying you can't keep up with me?" she retorted, a teasing smile on her face.

Raising her hand to his mouth, he placed a soft kiss on her palm. "I'm willing to try," he answered.

Eames slid out of the car, coming around to Goren's side as he got out. Thunder rolled across the sky as the worst part of the storm bore down on Grandview. Eames started toward the house with Goren just behind her.

On the porch, Jim and Rick joined Melinda as the wind whipped around the house. Rick looked up at the violent sky. "Wow, this is some storm."

Melinda stepped closer to the railing, her attention focused out in the yard where Wallace had appeared. Jim moved to her side. "What is it?"

Before Melinda could respond, Wallace rushed at Goren. The mist, lingering opposite Wallace, just beyond the detectives, moved to intercept. As it did so, it took on more substance and hit Eames hard enough to send her sprawling away from Goren.

As Eames hit the ground, she turned in time to see her partner disappear into a thick fog that settled over the yard. "Bobby!"

She jumped to her feet and ran toward the foggy area, only to be knocked away. Jim reached her side and pulled her to her feet, half-forcing her toward the porch. "You can't help him," he told her, shouting to be heard above the howling wind.

Eames focused on the fog as Jim and Rick each held an arm, keeping her on the porch. She searched for her partner, but the fog was too dense and she couldn't find him. "No..."

Goren became disoriented as his surroundings vanished. The yard, the storm, his partner, everything was gone. "Eames!"

She was nowhere in sight. He spun around, searching in vain for some kind of landmark. He only saw gray. A searing pain suddenly ripped through his gut, and he heard voices, far in the distance-Wallace screaming, "Get away from him! He's mine!"

Another voice, a familiar one he couldn't quite place, responding, "You have no claim on him! He belongs to her!"

With a groan, he sank to his knees, weakening as the white-hot pain sapped his strength. "Eames..." The darkness at the edges of his vision was rapidly expanding. "Forgive me, please, forgive me."

The pain became unbearable as a bright light exploded behind his eyes and then everything faded to black.

A bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree, showering the yard with sparks. "What's happening?" Eames demanded, still unable to see Goren.

Melinda moved to her side, so Eames could hear her over the storm. "I don't know. I can't tell."

"I thought you could see the ghosts," she snapped angrily.

"I've never experienced anything like this," Melinda confessed. "I can't see anything inside that fog."

"Is Wallace there?"

"Yes. She's with him, somewhere in that fog."

Trying not to panic as fear gripped her heart, Eames asked, "That mist, where is it?"

"It was with him. It's the only thing that can protect him."

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

Sadly, Melinda shook her head. "No. Nothing."

She looked back out into the storm, finally seeing movement at the edges of the fog. Wallace emerged from the thick fog suddenly, a look of horror on her face. As she backed away from the fog, dark shadows emerged from the ground, grabbing at her. She began to scream as the shadows engulfed her, dragging her down into the ground, and she was gone.

Melinda covered her mouth as she watched, horrified. She had seen the shadows claim souls before, and it always horrified her.

The fog in the yard faded away into the wind. Goren lay on the ground, face down and not moving. The mist still hovered close by. Eames pulled away from Jim and Rick, running off the porch to kneel at Goren's side. Jim was right behind her, kneeling across from her. He quickly assessed Goren's condition as best he could. "Help me roll him," he said.

Eames and Rick helped roll Goren onto his back. Another few moments and Jim looked at Rick. "Let's get him inside."

The two men carried Goren into the house with Eames and Melinda following. On the porch, Melinda turned to look back into the yard. The mist was gone. Across the yard near the street, a lone figure stood, watching as they carried Goren into the house, but before Melinda could make it out, it vanished.