He regarded her as she worked, taking note of the tiredness evident in her incapability of keeping her eyes open. She was staying late. Again. Although unsurprising, it worried him.

Accompanied by a cup of coffee, she sluggishly swirled her pen across one of the files occupying her desk. Recently, she had volunteered to take on extra paperwork. As popular as it made her, he couldn't stop feeling there was more to it than good-will.

In the beginning, when it had only been his paperwork, he'd jotted it down to some leftover worry from when he'd been shot. Maybe it was just her way of showing that she cared.

Then it had become extensive.

After he stopped letting her, he'd notice some of their colleagues dropping off an extra file or two at her desk. He didn't know how she managed to balance it with sleep, but judging by her constant yawning, he guessed she wasn't. Dana must've noticed too, because it had been a couple of days since she'd last been in the field.

Something was bothering her. Aside from the whole lack of sleep issue, she was raising walls. She'd brush off his attempts at personal conversations and didn't reciprocate when he poked fun at her. Even when he did get a smile out of her, it would quickly falter.

Deciding against heading for home, he walked over to her desk. Once it became apparent she wouldn't acknowledge him on her own, too engrossed in her work (or just too tired to notice), he cleared his throat.

"Do you need anything?" she asked, still focused on her file.

"I was hoping we could talk."

"About?"

"You."

That made her look up. "Me?"

He nodded. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure I'm following."

"You're…different.

That sounded awfully generic, but he felt 'you look exhausted, you're avoiding me, and Dana placed you on desk duty' would be too direct. He didn't want to make her defensive.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm the same as always."

"You expect me to believe you've always loved paperwork?"

"Everyone likes feeling needed," she said with a shrug.

At least her lack of sleep wasn't impairing her ability to dodge questions.

"Now you're just being stubborn."

"Maybe."

Some part of him wondered if she truly believed she was alright, or if she had just taken the decision to ignore her own words about how they were supposed to be honest with each other.

"Come on, Maggie," he said. "You can't deny you've gotten more serious lately." That was one way of putting it.

"Maybe you're just not as funny as you think."

There was a playful tinge to her voice, and if only just to prove a point, it felt a bit more like her.

"No, that's not it. I'm hilarious."

She rolled her eyes before shaking her head in that I can't believe I'm stuck with you way of hers. Had he not known where this conversation was heading, he would've smiled.

"You've been acting this way every since I got shot."

Although she was quick to mask it, he noticed how her face fell. Coupled with the heavy silence that followed, it confirmed his suspicions. She must've realized he knew, because suddenly she found great interest in her file again, finding a convenient way to avoid his gaze.

"You know I'm fine, Maggie," he said softly, because aside from some soreness and being on desk duty for another week, he was.

"You almost weren't."

"Emphasis on almost. I got lucky."

"And if you hadn't been?"

Situations like these, those that reminded them of how close to death the job brought them, were among the harder things their work entailed.

"But I was," he repeated. "You'll destroy yourself thinking about what ifs."

It was a dangerous path, linked closely to guilt and fear. It was amazing how much power those two emotions harboured. They had the ability to make even breathing painful once they festered in you. He didn't wish that upon anyone, least of all her.

"It was my call." She looked back up at him, revealing the glistening in her eyes. "It was my call, OA," she repeated, and he was unsure whether or not he imagined the small quiver to her voice.

"You made the right one." Who knows how badly things could have gone if she hadn't. "I didn't exactly give you a choice, either."

She didn't look convinced.

"You made the right call, Maggie," he assured her. "And none of what happened was your fault. Nobody blames you." Aside from her, that was.

"Okay."

She still didn't seem completely convinced, but he'd take it. No matter what he said, he knew it would take her some more time to fully process her feelings. Guilt didn't disappear overnight. However, this was a beginning.

Then she yawned, and he tilted his head.

"How have you been sleeping lately?"

"You know, I'm the one supposed to be worrying about you."

"I think you do enough of that already," he said. "You didn't answer my question."

She sighed. "Why do you think I'm doing everyone's paperwork?"

So she was avoiding sleep. "Nightmares?"

"It's fine, really," she said. "I just…prefer to stay awake. Might as well do something productive with my time, right?" She looked down on the file in front of her. "I know it's not a good combo with our jobs," she continued, "so I asked Dana to put me on desk duty with you until I get a handle on it."

Always the responsible one.

"And here I thought you just missed me."

"You wish," she scoffed. Then she adjusted her posture. "You don't—" she paused, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "You don't think any less of me as an agent, right?"

"Of course not." If anything, he respected her more for her responsibility. "Nobody I'd rather have as my partner."

"Good, because you're stuck with me."

He smiled fondly. "Lucky me."

A pool of warmth settled in his chest once she returned his smile. He hadn't seen one of those in awhile.

Then she yawned, again. "I should probably get going, huh?"

"Yeah, it's getting late," and she needed the rest. "You can do the rest tomorrow."

"Can't wait," she threw a look across her desk, the realization of how much work she had to do finally sinking in. "I'm gonna need a vacation day to finish all of this."

He chuckled, even if he pitied her. "At least you can sleep in tomorrow."

"I guess."

"Want me to take some?"

"I'll be fine, but thanks," she said, gathering up her files. "For everything," she added more quietly.

"Of course."

He was her partner, after all. More so, she'd quickly become an important part of his life. He cared for her happiness. The least he could do, was check up on her.

"Goodnight, OA."

He smiled. "Goodnight."