The tears ripped out of her for what felt like forever. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Keira cried until her throat burned and her stomach hurt and Carlos's coat was covered in tears and other, less graceful bodily fluids. She choked back a laugh when he pulled a small pack of tissues out of his pocket and tried to push away, tried to put some space between them so she could get herself back together. He just pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin and rocking her like a child while he used his broad shoulders to shield her from the people she could barely hear walking down the sidewalk.

Finally, when she had no more tears to cry, when her eyes were heavy with exhaustion and her breath came out in trembling gasps and hiccups but no more sobs, he let her pull away just far enough to see her face. Taking one of the tissues from the pack she was clutching like a lifeline, he wiped her cheeks dry before wrapping her back up in his arms.

"What happened?" he whispered softly into her hair, and Keira almost started crying all over again. Carlos was so warm and solid under her hands while the rest of her world bucked and twisted beneath her, and in that moment it was too easy to forget that he despised her, push aside the fact that he distrusted her, and let him anchor her to this time and place the way he had so many times before.

She opened her mouth-to say what, she didn't know-but couldn't make the words come out. Somehow Carlos understood anyway, somehow instinctively knew what she needed as he squeezed, then pulled both of them to their feet, tucking her protectively under his shoulder and heading toward the station.

Carlos sighed, doing his best to keep the woman under his arm snugged firmly against his side while they wove through the uncharacteristically light crowd on the sidewalks. She felt so tiny. She was fire and ice, and so fierce it was easy for him to forget that she wasn't much bigger than Betty. She felt…

Well hell. Women's lib be damned, she felt like someone he should be taking care of. Because she was a woman. Because she was his partner. Because despite the darkness in her eyes and her new, cynical outlook on life, despite all the secrets he knew this Keira kept that his Keira didn't, she was still Keira.

That still meant something to him, whether he wanted it to or not.

When they got back to the station he didn't even ask, just led her over to his car and helped her into the passenger seat. She still hadn't said a word. If it was his Keira he'd be worried. Since the day he'd saved her life and she'd told him who she really was, they hadn't had a problem communicating.

This Keira was another story. Sometimes it seemed like she was a million miles away, even when she was standing right in front of him, and he was getting used to her silences even as the part of him that recognized his partner in her banged against them in frustration. It made her strange and unfamiliar and just a little mysterious.

He thought about taking her home. Back to her new apartment and the John Doe she was spending more time with than she was him these days. Just drop her off and drive away and let someone else deal with it so he didn't have to get all tangled up with this Keira the way he had…

'Doesn't matter now bucko.'

Slipping his key into the ignition, he took at a look at his partner. She'd curled herself into a small ball and leaned her head against the window. Her hair was falling over her face, shielding her from view, and without thinking about it he reached out to pull the damp strands out of her eyes. She was sound asleep, completely worn out from the storm that had raged through her as she'd leaned on his shoulder, crying like her heart would break.

Watching her sleep, Carlos felt something in his chest that he had kept locked and frozen since he first saw his partner's dead body shift. As soon as it did, he couldn't stand the thought of taking her back to her place, and the man that might be waiting there. Without examining the impulse too closely, Carlos turned the key, shifted into drive, and made the turn that led them toward his place.