A/N: When the site was down and the chapters of my current stories were suspended in cyberspace, I did what any self-respecting writer would do. I wrote another story :-)

He was late. He was never late, but today he was. Eames looked across her desk at his empty chair, looked at the time again, and worried. Bobby was never late.

"Hey, Eames," Logan grinned as he stopped at her desk. "Where's the big guy?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"He and I were gonna go shoot some pool tonight. I wanted to know if he was up for grabbing some dinner, too."

"I'll tell him you're looking for him."

Logan studied her. "You're worried."

She gave him an annoyed look. "Wow, are you a detective or something? How'd you figure that one out?"

"Calm down, Eames. Everyone oversleeps from time to time."

She shook her head. "He doesn't sleep that well, Logan. He's never slept through his alarm."

"Maybe he forgot to set it."

"His internal alarm is about five minutes later than his clock."

Logan laughed. "Maybe his car broke down or he missed his train. I'm sure he's fine, Eames. It's a guy thing to not call and worry those who care about us most."

He winked at her and headed to his desk. She frowned. A guy thing? Maybe so, but Bobby was anything but a typical guy. No, she was certain he would never forget to call if he was late. He always called her when anything out of the ordinary was happening. She picked up the phone and dialed his number. No answer. She called his apartment. Again no answer. Setting the phone in its cradle, she propped her elbows on the desk and rested her head on her hands. He would not cause her undue worry, and he certainly wouldn't not answer his phone. Deep in her gut, she had a feeling something was wrong, a sixth sense she learned a long time ago never to ignore. Grabbing her jacket, she called to Logan and Barek. "If the captain asks, tell him I'll be back shortly. I need to check on something."

Barek waved a hand in acknowledgment. Logan snickered, earning him a look from his partner. "What are you sniggering at?"

"She's overreacting."

"To what?"

"Goren's late."

"Really? I've never known him to be late. I was beginning to think he lived here."

"He probably would if he could. I told her not to worry. He probably overslept or something."

"Goren sleeps?"

Logan laughed. "Not very well, according to Eames, though how she knows that is something I don't particularly want to ask. But that begs the question that he does sleep in the first place."

"I don't know, Mike. Maybe you're not worried enough. If he was running late, he'd call her. He wouldn't want her to worry."

"He forgot."

"Goren? Have you even met the guy?"

"Yeah, yeah...ok. But I still think she's worried for nothing."

"Eames doesn't worry over nothing."

"Would you worry if I was late?"

"No. You would forget to call."

"Aw, Barek..."

-----------------------------------

He looked at his watch. He was annoyed that the train was delayed, but still, he'd be at work early. Damn car...

He found himself wondering if Eames would get there first. He smiled to himself. She fussed at him almost every day for arriving before she did and remaining after she left. He worked too hard, she complained. But the truth of the matter was he just didn't want to miss any time he had to spend with her. And besides, it was more than worth it every morning to see her arrive, walk to her desk and smile at him for the danish and coffee he'd left there for her. His day always seemed to go better when it started with a smile from Eames.

Finally...the train arrived. He looked at his watch again. He'd be cutting it close, but at least he wasn't going to be late. There was still a chance he would get there before she did, but it was slim. He thought about calling her, just in case she got there first, so she wouldn't worry if he wasn't there. But he was being stupid. She wasn't going to worry if he got there a few minutes after she did.

There weren't as many people on the train as he'd expected, but it was still a little early for the crushing rush hour peak. He liked to leave a lot earlier when he took the train because he hated standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a hot subway car, particularly with his gun on his hip. Of course, he hadn't expected to have to take the train today. Ah, well. Some things couldn't be helped. The seats were all taken, and there was a scattering of folks on their feet, but at least there was breathing room. He stood at the end of the car, near the door leading to the next car, where he always preferred to be. It wasn't because, like Wild Bill Hickcock, he wanted his back to the wall, but because he liked to watch the people around him and play one of his favorite games. Observing people, he liked to see what he could surmise from their appearances and actions. He'd been playing the game for most of his life, and he was pretty good at it. It made his time on the train pass a lot more quickly.

There was a young woman settled on one of the seats that faced the center of the car, nicely dressed, but he'd bet money she was sporting more than one tattoo. He could see the piercing holes in her lip, nose and eyebrow, and her hair was much too dark for her skin. A Goth princess with a respectable job? He smiled to himself. Then there was the middle aged man in Armani. Carrying on an affair, perhaps? Why else would he have a band-aid on over his bare ring finger but to hide his tell-tale tan line? And the kid with the torn jeans over there...his Navy blue shirt had a six-pack of beer on it above the words "Beer is technically a vegetarian meal." He smiled. College kid. But he almost laughed out loud at the logo on the yellow shirt of the girl behind him. "Your village called...they want their idiot back." That made him think of Eames.

He was pulled from his musings by the sound of a deep rumble in the distance and he frowned. That didn't sound quite right. Another rumble followed, and another...What the hell...? They sounded like...

Suddenly, the train lurched violently and the lights went out. He heard screams in the pitch black as the train bucked and lurched in a manner in which it was never intended to move. He felt a searing pain everywhere at once and then he felt nothing.