IN THE HOUR OF MY DEATH

Approximately 12 hours later

The first thing he noticed as he came slowly back to awareness was the lack of pain. Not that he expected pain, or wanted it, but for some reason it was the first thing his sleep-fogged mind noted. The second thing he realised, as his mind slowly began to reawaken, was that the intense heat that had been slowly engulfing him was gone. He still felt uncomfortably warm, but his body no longer felt as though it was on fire.

He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate. In the end, he gave up trying, deciding he would achieve that particular feat when his body was good and ready.

Slowly, he became aware of a hand covering his; a slim, cool hand that was a huge relief against his hot skin. His fingers flexed instinctively, and that cool hand closed around his in an inherently reassuring gesture.

“Bobby? Can you hear me?”

He knew that voice. It was the voice of an angel; the voice of his angel. His lips moved, but no sound emerged. His throat was too dry, and his mouth felt like it had been rubbed out with sandpaper.

“Here...”

He felt a straw against his lips, and found the strength to draw a few sips of cold water into his mouth. Dimly, it occurred to him somewhere in the back of his exhausted mind that he wasn't dead – far from it. He was still very much alive, and the exhaustion, nausea and fever he was experiencing was proof to it.

Bobby decided to try opening his eyes again, and this time he was marginally more successful. As his vision slowly focused, he found himself looking up into the single most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“...'lex...”

He was barely able to speak, but his companion understood regardless. Alex smiled down at him.

“Hey, you.”

Bobby shuddered, and opened his mouth to try and speak again, but any effort was stopped when Alex pressed her fingertip gently to his lips.

“Don't try to talk, Bobby. Just listen, okay? They figured it out. They found what was making you sick. It was a piece of one of those spikes that Erik Mathers used. There was a piece still in your body, and when you came down with the pneumonia, it helped to make you so sick.” She stroked his forehead soothingly, and smiled tearfully at him. “You're going to be okay, Bobby. Do you understand me? You're going to be fine.”

Somehow, her words registered in his still-foggy mind. He gave up trying to speak, and instead settled for concentrating on their joined hands.

Alex watched Bobby with loving care. She'd expected him to slip back into unconsciousness, but to her pleasant and grateful surprise, he didn't. Instead, he continued to lie awake, looking up at her with an expression that was pure relief. He'd understood her words and he knew that his illness had finally been identified, but she suspected the finer details had escaped his current state of awareness.

That suited her fine. She would happily let the good Dr House explain those points to him once he'd recovered sufficiently. For now, though, she was content to know that he was going to live.

“Hey, he's awake?”

She looked around to see Mike had materialised behind her. It was now just herself and Mike there, after Carolyn had been summoned back to New York by the captain. The lectures she and Bobby were supposed to have been giving over the course of that week and the next had been cancelled out of respect and courtesy to the sick detective, and Deakins had decided he needed at least one of them back at work. Carolyn had volunteered. It was obvious that Alex was not going to be convinced to leave her partner's side anytime soon, and both Carolyn and Deakins had agreed that it would be best if Mike were the one to stay there with her – particularly as he still had authority to make any medical decisions for Bobby that might still need to be made.

“Yeah, he's awake,” Alex answered, smiling up at him. Mike leaned past Alex, and waited until Bobby's eyes had focused on him before speaking.

“Hey, pal. Welcome back.”

Again, Bobby's lips moved, and this time they could make out faint whispers.

“Mi...ikey...”

Mike's lips quirked in amusement. Bobby knew as well as anyone in the Major Case Squad that he hated being called Mikey, and it was testament to Bobby's recovery powers that he had the gumption to call him that right then.

“Cute, Bobby,” Mike retorted. “Real cute. Glad to see you're feeling better, smart-ass.”

To the relief of both of them, a small smile flickered briefly across Bobby's lips, but he made no further effort to speak. Then, as they both watched, his eyes closed again and he slid easily back into a healing sleep. Mike slipped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, and drew her to him in a warm hug.

“You see? He’s going to be fine. Now, think you might be able to drag yourself away for a while, and get some proper rest?”

Alex hesitated. As much as she knew Mike was right, she was still reluctant to leave him. Mike took a step back, gently drawing her with him.

“C’mon, Alex. You know I’m right. You’ve hardly slept at all since we got here. He’s going to be okay, so you don’t have any more excuses.”

“Mike…” she protested, but he silenced her with a hug.

“I promised the captain I’d look out for you, Alex. Don’t make me pull rank on you.”

She snorted at that.

“That’s rich. I outrank you, in case you’d forgotten.”

“Minor technicality,” Mike answered flippantly. “I’m still bigger than you.”

Alex couldn’t resist a grin as she allowed herself to be drawn away from her partner’s bedside.

“Bobby made the mistake of making that assumption once, Mike. Only once.”

“Oh? Do I want to know what you did?”

“Well… let’s just say that he was walking with a limp for a week.”

Mike winced.

“Okay…”

She laughed softly at his sudden trepidation.

“It’s okay, Mike. I know you’re right. I do need the rest. Just, promise me you’ll stay with him? And call me if anything happens?”

He hugged her again, and this time she hugged him back.

“I promise, Alex. But nothing’s going to happen. Go on, now. Go back to the hotel, and get some rest.”

She hesitated for only a moment longer before heading from the room. Mike waited until she’d disappeared around the corner before returning to Bobby’s bedside.

“Just you and me now, pal,” he murmured, sinking into the chair beside the bed and, after a moment, his own eyes closed, and sleep overtook him.

Mike awoke with a start what could have been minutes or hours later to discover Dr Cameron on the other side of the bed, running through a checklist of simple tests. Bobby, Mike was pleased to notice, was awake, and responsive.

“Good morning,” Cameron greeted Mike with a smile as she gently lay Bobby’s arm back down on the bed. Mike looked vaguely startled, particularly when he realised he was partially covered with a hospital blanket.

“Wha…?”

“You slept right through the night,” Bobby said, and though his voice sounded a little on the hoarse side, his words were lucid. Mike pushed himself to his feet, pausing to stretch before leaning against the bed and grinning down at his friend and colleague.

“You look better. How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” came the blunt answer, and Mike had to laugh.

“Yeah, well, you’re still with us. That’s what matters.”

Bobby sighed softly, making no objection as Cameron pulled the blankets up to his chest and fluffed the pillows beneath his head.

“It was a close one, wasn’t it?”

“Close? Bobby, you scared the shit out of all of us. Damn it, if you ever do anything like this again…”

“Didn’t mean it, Mike.”

“I know, pal. Believe me, we’re just grateful that you’re going to be okay.”

“Even… Even the captain…?”

Mike hesitated in responding to that, his sharp ears easily catching the bitterness in Bobby’s voice. He didn’t think Bobby blamed Deakins at all for his illness, but he also recalled vividly the ferocious argument Bobby had had with the captain the day before he and Carolyn left for New Jersey…

He sucked in a sharp breath. Bobby had gone to Deakins, begging to be let out of the commitment and complaining of illness. Now that he thought back on it, Mike recalled thinking that Bobby hadn’t looked well then, but everyone had just put it down to him looking for an out from giving the lectures. No one had paid any heed to his complaints – not even Alex, and she was usually completely attuned to her partner.

Still, if Bobby seriously thought that Deakins didn’t give a damn, then he couldn’t have been more wrong, and he didn’t hesitate in telling him so.

“Bobby, just how much do you remember of the last week?”

“Since I collapsed…?”

“Yeah.”

“Not a lot,” Bobby admitted. “It’s all pretty hazy. Why?”

“So… You don’t remember that the captain and his wife drove here in the middle of the night because they were worried sick about you?”

Bobby went very abruptly quiet. Mike watched him for a long while before speaking again.

“We were all worried sick, pal. Even Deakins. Especially Deakins.”

A soft sigh escaped Bobby’s lips, then.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, well, I know you were pissed at being ordered to give those lectures, but the truth is you probably would’ve ended up as sick as this anyway. You know you do actually have pneumonia? Dr House wasn’t wrong about that.”

Bobby nodded breathlessly. Cameron had filled him in on the details while Mike was still sleeping. She’d also strategically avoided answering him when he’d asked how long he’d have to stay in the hospital, by shoving a thermometer in his mouth. Mike smiled faintly, correctly interpreting Bobby’s expression.

“Well, just between us, Bobby, I don’t think the quacks in New York…” He glanced up to briefly meet Cameron’s disapproving frown, and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I don’t think the doctors back home would have been able to figure it out. They sure as hell wouldn’t have made the leap of logic that your illness was related to Erik Mathers.”

“Leaps of logic,” Bobby murmured with a wry smile, and Mike laughed.

“Right. Just like a certain Major Case detective I know.”

Bobby looked up at Cameron, then, who was just finishing up her tasks.

“Where is Dr House? I…. I’d like to... to thank him.”

Cameron hesitated. She hated this part. Most patients couldn’t understand why the abrasive doctor never came near them once their illness was diagnosed and successfully treated and many took it as a personal slight, which they then inexorably took out on her, Chase or Foreman – whoever was the most convenient target. She really didn’t care to have the likes of Bobby Goren mad at her.

“Actually… You probably won’t see him. Once he’s solved a case, he usually doesn’t… um…”

“Interact with his patients?” Bobby queried. She nodded, looking embarrassed but resigned.

“Right.”

“Well… Pass on a message for me?”

Cameron looked uneasy, but didn’t object. Bobby went on in a progressively softer voice. He was quickly running out of energy, and would likely be asleep again within a matter of minutes.

“Tell him… I still think he’s a son of a bitch… but thankyou… for saving my life.”

Cameron smiled, then, visibly relieved. In an affectionate, she gently brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“I’ll tell him. Try and get some rest now, okay?”

Both men watched her, and Mike spoke with a wry chuckle.

“Now, if I were ten years younger, and a Jersey cop…”

“You’ve mellowed,” Bobby mumbled. “A year ago, she wouldn’t have been too young for you.”

Mike grunted.

“Yeah, well, things change.”

Bobby was starting to drift again, finding it hard to focus, although he didn’t know whether it was from whatever drugs they were giving him, or plain and simple exhaustion. There was something else he’d wanted to ask, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was. In the end, he gave up trying. It didn’t matter, and he was just so damned tired all of a sudden…

Mike watched as Bobby fell asleep once more. Alex was going to be pissed that she’d missed him being awake, and reasonably lucid, but what could he do? He hadn’t meant to sleep through the whole night, and God knew his back and neck were paying for it now. It was a testament to how tired he really was that he had slept so heavily in such an uncomfortable chair.

Alex might be pissed at him, he mused, but even she wouldn’t begrudge him a decent night’s sleep. That was something none of them had gotten since Bobby had been admitted to the hospital.

For want of something better to do, Mike found his gaze going around the room slowly, until his eyes gravitated to Bobby’s calliper and walking stick, where they were stored in a corner of the room. In the months since their return from Gore Mountain, and the grim prognosis from Bobby’s doctor, a calliper had been designed and tailor-made to suit the detective, allowing him maximum flexibility while still providing much-needed support. His walking stick had been designed for him as well by a friend of Deakins’ who specialised in the craft.

Bobby had been grateful for the efforts that those around him had gone to, for the designs of both the calliper and the walking stick contributed greatly to his ability to continue working as a detective. On the other hand, though, he hated the items for the way that they acted as a permanent reminder of unwanted limitations.

It was a pity that House couldn’t heal Bobby leg along with the rest of his body, Mike thought sadly. It seemed a tragic fact that Bobby was condemned to a life of constant pain, with no relief. It sucked, but what choices were there? Nada.

The only godsend, Mike reflected, was that Commissioner Adkins was sympathetic to Bobby’s situation, and had guaranteed his position with Major Case.

Mike supposed he could have been jealous at the support Bobby had received, when he himself had been left high and dry by the brass more than once, but he wasn’t. Bobby had more than earned the consideration that he got, and he would be the first to step up against anyone who said otherwise.

“Wow. You almost look thoughtful.”

Mike looked around in mild surprise as House came into the room.

“Dr Cameron said you avoided your patients once you figured out what was wrong with them.”

“Dr Cameron lies. You’re a cop. You couldn’t figure that out?”

Mike chuckled, too relieved at Bobby’s recovery to feel aggravated.

“No, she doesn’t. It’s just Bobby. You’re curious about him.”

House came to a halt at the end of the bed. He watched Bobby’s sleeping form for a minute before looking quizzically to Mike.

“It’s true, isn’t it? He walked on two broken legs.”

“Yes, it’s true. And then about nine months later, he did it again when his partner was in danger.”

“He walked on two broken legs?” House wondered, this time sounding more than a little incredulous.

“No, just the one broken leg that time. But that was the break that ended up crippling him.”

House refrained from making comments about stubborn cops making idiotic decisions. He figured it probably wouldn’t be appreciated. Instead, he settled for a less provocative remark.

“And they let him stay on as a cop? Who kissed whose ass kiss for that?”

Mike shrugged, unperturbed by the comment, primarily because he knew it wasn’t the case.

“Bobby’s a smart guy. His solve rate is over the moon, and I think he’s only had to actually fire his weapon once since he joined Major Case. The Commissioner knew it was the NYPD that would have been the loser if he let Bobby be forced out on a disability pension, so he worked it so that Bobby could stay on. And believe me, he can still do the job. He’s still the best we’ve got.”

“You respect him,” House mused, quietly impressed by the admiration in Mike’s voice. Mike answered with a confirming nod.

“Yes,” he answered calmly and simply. “I do.”

When Bobby awoke two days later to find he’d been moved out of the ICU and into a regular ward, he knew he was finally on the road to recovery. As frustrated as he felt at the restrictions being imposed on him – such as being unable to get up and move around – he couldn’t ignore the relief at the knowledge that he was finally out of those proverbial woods.

Being in a regular ward told him that yes, he was recovering. It said that yes, he was going to be okay. That in itself was a good feeling, and he could see his own relief reflected in Mike and Alex’s faces as they came over to the bedside.

“Hey,” Alex murmured, smiling warmly down at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, and realised that he meant it.

“You look a lot better,” Mike commented. “I mean, considering how you looked a week ago…”

His words ended in a pained grunt as Alex elbowed him solidly in the ribs.

“What?” he grumbled. “I’m just telling it like it is.”

“We don’t need reminders, thankyou,” Alex snapped, and Mike held his hands up defensively.

“Sorry. I’ll keep my trap shut, then.”

“S’okay,” Bobby murmured, anxious to end the sudden tension in the room. “I don’t mind. I know I… wasn’t good.”

Mike snorted at that.

“That’s gotta be the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard!”

Alex frowned at him, and then leaned in close to Bobby, stroking his forehead and cheek soothingly.

“Bobby, do you realise just how sick you were?”

“I know,” he answered wearily. “I know. I nearly died.”

“Yes, you did,” Alex confirmed. “And if you ever frighten me like that again, I’ll kick your ass. Do you hear me?”

He smiled faintly.

“Got it. Now… When can I get out of here?”

Mike laughed openly at that.

“We were taking bets on how long it’d take you to ask that question. Sorry, bud, but you’re not going anywhere for at least another two weeks.”

The dismay on Bobby’s face said it all, and Alex leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be left alone here. I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Mike.”

“At least, not until the end of the week,” Mike added. “I think that’s about as long as I’ll be able to sucker Deakins into letting me stay for, before he tells me to get my ass back to New York.”

“And we thought you hated Jersey,” Alex remarked dryly, and Mike grinned.

“Hate the state, love the people.”

“You mean you love certain female doctors,” Bobby corrected. Mike shrugged nonchalantly.

“What can I say? I love women.”

“Uh huh,” Alex snorted, and promptly returned her attention to her partner. “I’m sorry, Bobby. There was no negotiating with them over when you can leave. We already tried. Apparently Dr House said you couldn’t be discharged for at least two weeks, until he’s satisfied that you’re well on the way to recovery… Not to mention, you’re going to need some serious physio on that leg before you can walk again.”

Bobby frowned, realising unhappily that she was right. Alex went on quickly, before he could focus too much on that particular issue.

“Dr House actually seemed to be under the strange impression that you couldn’t be trusted to take the time off that you’d need to recover properly, if he let you be discharged early.”

Bobby looked away sulkily.

“I wonder where he got that idea.”

A moment later, he yelped as Alex slapped him hard enough on the shoulder for it to sting.

“Don’t you go there, Goren,” she growled. “You know damn well that I wouldn’t go behind your back like that. The only person who gave House that idea was you.”

“Me?” Bobby asked incredulously. “When?”

“How about when you ignored his advice about getting proper bed rest, and went ahead and did that stupid lecture?” Alex shot back. “And, that reminds me…”

“Ow!” Bobby burst out in protest when she slapped him a second time. “What was that for?”

“For being a stubborn idiot,” Alex snapped. “You should never have given that lecture!”

“And have Deakins on my ass about obligations? No thankyou.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Bobby. Don’t you dare. You didn’t take that lecture out of any sense of obligation to Deakins, or to anyone else. You took it because you wanted to prove House wrong. Didn’t you?”

The silence that followed answered her accusation more succinctly than anything he could possibly have said. Alex nodded with grim satisfaction.

“I thought so. You were stupid, Bobby. You could have done so much damage to yourself…”

“I… I didn’t realise how bad it was…” Bobby protested weakly, but the words died on his lips as Alex glared at him with a harsh stare that he couldn’t quite meet.

“Look me in the eye, and tell me that,” she challenged him in a soft, yet equally powerful voice. He couldn’t, and ended up looking away entirely. After a long moment, Alex reached across the bed and closed her hand gently over his. “Bobby, I love you, but if you ever play Russian Roulette with your health again…”

She trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken. When Bobby finally looked back at her, his eyes were red and his cheeks wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Alex, I’m sorry…”

Alex leaned in to hug him as fiercely as she dared.

“It’s okay, Bobby,” she whispered, and as she spoke she felt a huge weight lift off her. “It’s going to be okay.”

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