Chapter 5

His phone rang at six a.m. Goren snatched it up from the nightstand. "Goren," he said quickly, expecting a call out.

"Goren, it's John Eames."

"Mr. Eames? Is she okay?"

"About the same. She's asking for you."

"Uh, I, uh… I was sleeping. Tell her I'll be there as quick as I can."

"I'll tell her."

"Thank you, sir," Bobby sputtered. He was grateful the man had called him. He rushed around, getting dressed and grabbing the things he would need. He combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and grabbed his wallet.

"Dad."

"What is it, honey?" the old man said from his perch on the chair.

"Tell them my head hurts."

He gave her a wary look, but got to his feet. "All right. I'll tell them." He stepped out of the room and to the nurse's station. Bobby saw him just before he leaned over to get the nurse's attention.

"Mr. Eames!" Bobby called out.

John gave him an unconvincing smile. "Goren," he said, and held out his hand for a shake.

Bobby shook his hand, his eyes searching her father's, wanting to know the latest.

"She asked me to tell them her head hurts. I don't know…"

"She's… avoiding? Trying to escape?"

John shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe her head hurts. I don't know."

Bobby frowned and patted the man's arm before he quietly opened the door to her room.

"What'd they say, Dad?" She asked, before turning and seeing it was her partner. "Oh."

"Hello, Eames," he said, offering her a smile.

"Hi, Bobby. I thought you were my Dad."

"I just saw him in the corridor."

"My head hurts."

"Yeah, he told me." Bobby looked her over, and raised a finger to delicately touch the skin near the bandage on her head. "That bad?"

"Between that and the rest, the damn thing's pounding."

"The rest?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I don't want to cry any more, Bobby."

He nodded and looked at his shoes. After a moment, he looked back. "Your Dad, he… he said you asked for me?"

She lifted her hand, and he was relieved to see that she'd moved much more easily than yesterday. Bobby reached down and took her hand, careful not to touch her bandaged wrists.

She squeezed his hand until the nurse came in, but never said a word in explanation. Bobby offered the only comfort he could, and then stepped out of the way while the nurse checked her vitals.

"My head," Alex said.

"I know," the nurse replied. "Let me check this, and then I'll call your doctor."

"Can't you just give me that medicine?"

"The doctor ordered some for you, but we weren't supposed to administer it until later."

Alex sighed.

The nurse removed the blood pressure cuff and replaced everything in its rightful place. "I'll check with your doctor and come right back."

Alex closed her eyes and nodded slightly, clearly unhappy that she had to wait. Her father came back in the room as Bobby replaced his hand around hers.

"What's the word?" John Eames asked.

"Hurry up and wait," Alex grumbled. She finally let her eyes fall on her partner. "You look like hell," she told him, and he laughed. "What's so funny?"

"You keep telling me that."

"I do?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's true. When was the last time you slept?"

"I slept last night."

"How long."

"I don't know."

"Exactly." She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, my head!" she complained.

Bobby stroked her hand gently with his fingers.

"Your face looks puffy," she continued, after opening her eyes again.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, you know…"

John Eames walked a few steps away and sat down in the visitor's chair.

"You've been crying, too."

Bobby shifted awkwardly, unwilling to speak of it in front of her father. "I just… need more sleep, that's all," he said quietly.

"They told me that's what you were doing… last night."

He shrugged. "I tried."

Alex squeezed his hand and stared into his eyes.

She was right, of course. But she was also well aware that her father was in the room. She closed her eyes again, furrowing her brow until the nurse returned.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Eames. The doctor insists that you get nothing more than a mild analgesic until this afternoon."

Alex's jaw jutted out in anger. The nurse picked up her water from the tray table and handed her a small paper cup with two pills in it. Stiffly, Alex put the pills in her mouth and drank from the straw.

The nurse instructed her to let her know if she needed anything else and left the room again.

"Don't fret about it, Alexandra," John Eames spoke.

Bobby saw her cheeks burn with anger. "How the hell does he know anything? She called him on the phone, for Christ's sake!" Alex raged.

Bobby kept a firm grip on her hand and tried to soothe her. "Give it time, maybe the pills will help."

She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him.

Goren spared a glance in her father's direction, and they were both thinking the same thing. The doctor was right not to give her the potent stuff. She was trying to escape her problems. She was very vulnerable to addiction right now.

"Look, I think I'll go find a good cup of coffee or something," Bobby said, feeling his presence wasn't doing a thing for her. Immediately, she tightened her grip on his hand. He searched her face, but she didn't move, and she didn't explain. Bobby threw her father a helpless glance.

"No, don't bother, I'll go get a coffee for both of us," John volunteered. He got up and gave his daughter a quick look before he pulled the door open and wandered down the hall.

"Alex, what is it?" Bobby asked, urgency in his voice. "You want me here, but there doesn't seem to be anything I can do."

"Don't leave," she pleaded.

"I… I'm not," he said. "I just… don't understand how I can help."

"That doctor thinks I'm trying to abuse the drugs," she said. Without even turning his way, she added, "You think so, too."

Bobby exhaled heavily. "I think you've got a good reason to want to escape." She squeezed his hand again, and finally turned toward him. "Alex, I'm here for you. As long as you want me, I'm here."

"I can't tell them, Bobby. My family."

He nodded. "It's too…"

"Yeah."

"You're the only one, who knows…everything."

Sadness passed over his face, and he looked away, trying to keep the emotions from erupting again. "And you…" he huffed, "wonder why I didn't sleep."

She squeezed his hand again and stared at the day's growth of beard he had. "I can't stop thinking about her… Amanda… Not more than a few minutes, anyway." She knitted her brow again and sighed. "I don't want to cry anymore, Bobby, I can't stand it."

Now he squeezed her hand. "I know what you mean."