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Beep... Beep... Beep... There were sounds all around her. Where was she? People rushing all around her, shoes squeaking on the tile floors. Where was she? What had happened? She wondered if she was dead.

No way... Death isn't this uncomfortable.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"Michael!" Her eyes shot open and her head flew up, looking to the left and the right frantically as she sat up all the way. She saw the familiar white curtains, walls; ceiling of the hospital and, with a groan, Eva fell back into the chair that she was sitting in.

She had fallen asleep at Michael's bedside in an uncomfortable hospital chair. A blanket had been draped around her shoulders and she now sat up, holding it around her neck as it fell on either side of her shoulders. She was wearing a hospital gown, her face clean and her hands less bloodied, sore, but still clean enough. In her hand she held Michael's feeling his pulse under her fingers like a lifeline to her own life, and not only to his.

Even bloody, an oxygen tube on the bridge between his nose and mouth, and his hair messy, he was still beautiful to her. She found herself staring into his face, for once the ice from her eyes and the coldness from her features. She looked at him, swallowing painfully before sighing, looking down at her hand in his.

"Michael..." she said, but realized at that moment she could think of nothing to say. Lifting her hand to wipe her eyes, she looked at him. "I'm going to catch this man..." she mumbled, "For you. Because..." she choked, shaking her head and standing up, letting go of his hand. Sighing again, Eva walked over to the door of his room, opening it and peering out into the hallway.

"Ms. Streepe," a nurse was walking by.

"I need my clothes. And a phone. Now." Her voice was shaking, low and with one look at the detective, the nurse knew not to speak against her.

It was ten minutes before another nurse came in with both Eva and Michael's clothes in the same bag, and Eva's cell phone, a long scratch on the front of it. Eva nodded her thanks before taking both of them, looking down at the phone with a sense of loathing in the back of her throat. With a toss of her head, her hair flicking over her shoulder, she closed the door and walked over to the corner, opening the phone and hitting the speed dial number.

"Hello?"

"Kenneth."

"Eva!" There was relief in his voice, "Are you and Michael all right? I heard about what happened. And Spencer Dagert dead."

"Yeah, yeah." Eva blew off the pity, "I'm okay. Michael..." her voice choked, "They don't know about Michael yet, but he's hanging in there. Apparently there's something wrong with the left side of his chest, I don't know." She let out her breath, shaky as she heard Kenneth sigh on the other end.

"He'll make it through it," he said comfortingly, "Michael's always been a trooper."

"I know," Eva was not sure if she believed it. "Okay, well. You're at the crime scene aren't you?" she asked, holding the phone tightly in her hand.

"Yeah."

"I want you to find out who purchased those explosives. Look around; anywhere you can, for the company or something. Then, when you find that, I want the name of every single person that has EVER purchased ANYTHING from them and I want it yesterday." Her voice was stronger, harsh. Her defense mechanism was kicking in, making her cold as ice and tough as iron.

"You got it, Eva." His voice was gentle.

"I'm going back to my apartment for a little bit," she said, "To get some new clothes and then I'm coming over there. We're going to catch this son of a bitch. Today." She closed the phone with a snap. Sighing, she turned to walk out the door, reaching for the doorknob.

"Eva," Eva turned at the sound of her name, weakly coming from Michael. She wheeled around and stared at Michael, who had opened his mouth.

"Hi," she said. Her voice was gentle and she crossed back over to his bedside, "Hey," she said again, holding his hand in hers. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." Michael grunted, trying to sit up. Eva leaned down, pushing him back into the pillows.

"Stay there." She said, smiling a little bit at him. "I'm just going to change clothes at my place, okay? You need to stay lying down... something—something happened to your chest. But you're gonna be okay." She was babbling at him now and quickly shut her mouth.

"I'm going to get him," she promised to him, holding his hand tightly in both of hers. "Today." Michael lifted his hand; an IV attached to it and brought it across the side of her face, brushing her hair out of her face. Eva quickly stepped back.

"I know you will." He said, smiling at her. Eva nodded at him, smiling again before patting his hand and walking toward the door.

"I'll be back," she promised and reached the door, before Michael called her again.

"Eva?"

"Yes?" Eva turned around.

"What were you going to say?" the question was obscure and took Eva by surprise.

"What?"

"When you were talking to me earlier," Michael explained, "You said that you were going to catch the killer, for me. Because... Because what?" Eva shrugged her shoulders, smiling at him.

"Nothing," she smiled.

"You were going to say you loved me." Michael was blunt, and Eva raised her eyebrows at him.

"What?"

"You were going to say you loved me weren't you? That's why..."

Eva turned around to the door, slowly, with each moment feeling her heart splitting at the seams, tearing apart. She turned her head over her shoulder, looking at him.

"No I wasn't." she said and she walked out the door, leaving whatever Michael's response was behind her.