The pain brought him out of the blissful nothingness he'd been floating in. He bit down on the pillow. It tasted like shit but was better than screaming.  It wasn't the first time he'd been shot. Usually he'd healed. So why wasn't he healing now?"  Sweat dripped into his eyes as he gasped at the pain radiating out of his shoulder. He had to get up and find the First Aid kit he kept here. He had to... He gathered himself and gritted his mind against the pain that was coming in waves. He heaved himself upward and tried to roll over onto his good side in order to get up.  He was never sure which hit him first, the blackness of oblivion or the blackness of smashing face down onto the floor.

The next time he awoke he cursed. He had a date, he had to get there. She'd worry, he had to....

She waited all night Saturday night.  She started calling his cell phone at nine o'clock.  She'd called it every hour on the hour after that.  All she'd gotten was the tinny voice telling her it was either turned off or out of the coverage area.  She'd left five messages and paced miles around the apartment.  By dawn on Sunday morning she was seriously worried.  She fell asleep on the couch finally, around nine o'clock and he'd filled her dreams, dreams of him hurt and dreams of him deciding to never see her again.  She didn't know which were worse.  She woke a few hours later, more tired than when she'd fallen asleep and refused to give the idea he'd stood her up on purpose any consideration. 

Monday and Tuesday she moved through work like a zombie, avoiding Billie and Leroy, blaming her pallor and the circles under her eyes on a cold she was fighting off.  Wednesday she burst into tears when her cellphone rang and it was reminder call about a dental appointment and not him, so she went and told Coop she was giving into the cold and going home to bed.  She'd worry about dealing with Billie when she got there, she told herself.  And, she figured as she got out the cab she'd called to take her home, chicken soup could only help considering she hadn't eaten much beside a couple of pieces of toast and a lot of coffee in the last five days.

She ignored her mail and the door to Betty's apartment, to his apartment and climbed the stairs to her own wondering if there was any way she could find him without going to Dinah.  She wasn't going to Dinah; not unless she had no other choice.  She turned on the landing and ready to head up the next set of steps, ready to cry again and then stopped and looked behind her at the carpet and then ahead of her.  The spots, dark red splatters hadn't been there when she'd gone to work this morning.  Even if she hadn't noticed Billie would have and then said something.  She raised her eyes all the way to the top of the steps and stifled a scream.  She took the rest of them two at a time and fell to her knees next to him, taking in the blood soaked shirt, the ashen gray pallor and sunken cheeks,  and the hot dry skin.  She grabbed his hand and winked out, reappearing in the Infirmary at the Refuge with him. 

She refused to let go of his hand while they were working on him, removing the bullet fragments, clearing the infection, the sepsis from his blood system and reversing the damage the early gangrene had caused in his shoulder.  She'd stayed there, demanding a cloth and cold water, holding his hand and sponging his face, moistening the cracked lips until they were through and ready to move him to a bed.  She taken a seat beside the bed and refused to budge from there either, his hand still in hers, just waiting, watching his face.

He jerked awake, his eyes flashing open, and going wide when he was able to focus on her. "Bobbie? How.. Where..."

She squeezed his hand, smiling at him.  "You're going to be fine, you're in the Infirmary at the Refuge.  You were shot and it got infected."

"I'm sorry I missed our date," he replied.

She shook her head, her eyes filling, lifting his hand to her lips.  "It's okay, just as long as you're okay.  There'll be other dates."

"Look, maybe not."

She looked at him, her eyes huge, her chin trembling.  "Don't...oh please, don't say that," she begged, the tears spilling over.

"Oh, Bobbie. Don't do that. I can't stand the idea of you getting shot. These guys aren't playing around."

"Then we'll deal with them.  I'm not letting you go," she said, her voice fierce.  "Do you hear me? I don't care what it takes.  I'm not letting you go."

"Oh honey," Simon said, reaching out to touch her cheek and the tear there. "I've got to at least get them off my back. When I do, then maybe we can see one another. I'm just afraid for you."

"No!"  she said, implacable.  "We'll do it together or I'll kill you myself.  But I'm not giving you up.  I'm not," she repeated, her voice rising.  "I'm not."

"Okay, okay. When can I get out of here?"

"I don't know.  You've been out of it for almost a day.  You were pretty sick, so they'll probably want to keep you in bed for a day or two," she said.  She raised an eyebrow.  "But you could do that in the bed at my place, if you want."

His grin was his answer. "Man I'm starving..."

She bent over and kissed me.  "Me too," she said.  "I'll go tell them and be right back.  Don't you dare move," she added as she stood up. 

"Don't be long," he said.

She smiled and shook her head.  Then she was gone and hunting up Thea to tell her. 

Thea listened and frowned.  "They're all alike.  Almost die and expect to be back to normal the minute they open they're eyes."  She shook her head.  "Okay, don't let him use that arm for much of anything for a couple of days.  And if anything changes, he spikes a temp, whatever, get him back here."

Bobbie nodded solemnly.  "I promise.  Anything else?"

"Don't let him get on top for a few days either," Thea said with a straight face.

Bobbie snorted and then burst out laughing.  "Yeah, gotcha," she said and went back the room. 

"It's all set," she said as she walked in.  "I'm your official nurse."

Simon began to get out of bed only to discover he was weaker than he thought.

"Here I got you," Bobbie said wrapping an arm around him and zapping them to her apartment.

He looked around and made a face.

"What?"

"I don't think I'm up to sex quite yet."

"Maybe after lunch," she said, helping him into bed.  "What would you like to eat?"

"Whatever you're offering," he suggested hopefully.

She sat on the bed next to him and curved her palm against his cheek, stroking his lips with her thumb.  "We'll start with some soup," she told him.  "Then we'll see how you feel." 

"It's a plan."