Author's Note: This is my first Royal Pains fic. I'm sorry if it's OOC - this puppy was sitting in my computer for like a year and I kind of forgot about it. When I saw the season finale last summer, this is truly where my mind was heading in the finale scene when Hank comes home looking for Evan after yelling at him. I think it might have been because I was still dealing with angst from House's fifth season, because I was actually very scared for a few seconds before we learned where Evan was. I'm VERY glad this was not what happened, because I love the show and the brothers' relationship. Arg, I'm not normally this dark, really I'm not. I may need to do a fluffier one to compensate... So please don't throw things at me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Royal Pains, I am but a poor PhD student (i.e. a hermit)

"Evan?" Hank called as he walked in the door of the darkened guesthouse. He had cooled off from his earlier argument with his brother, and now wanted to sit down with him and get the precise details of how Evan managed to screw up their finances. He knew Evan had been upset and guilt-ridden, which was to his credit. Now that he didn't want to punch him in the face anymore, Hank wanted to hear how he was going to fix it. He had a LOT of explaining to do.

But Evan didn't seem to be home, which was annoying him further. Hank tossed his bag onto the countertop in the kitchen, and began to search for his cell phone. Finding it in the bottomless pit of his bag, Hank speed-dialed Evan's number, determined to keep his temper in check. To his surprise, he heard a familiar ringtone behind him. Turning, he saw Evan's cell phone sitting on the table he had commandeered as his HankMed CFO Official Workspace. He was further surprised to see how sparse it looked. Almost… abandoned. Evan, while neater than his older brother, still frequently had organized piles of invoices and spreadsheets stacked around his computer. But now there was nothing. The laptop was shut, the phone beside it, and… an envelope on top of it. Puzzled, Hank went to the desk. Opening the envelope, he first pulled out a check. It was made out to HankMed and signed by a Francesca Stafford. The heiress? Hank thought, clearly astonished. It was for a hefty amount, though not the full total of what they had lost. There was a piece of paper in the envelope as well, which Hank opened next. Scanning it, squinting where some strange wetness had puckered the paper and blurred the ink, he became more and more confused, until the final paragraph.

Dear Hank,

I sold the Tesla to Francesca Stafford. She had admired it in the past, so on my way home I stopped at her place and she was eager to buy. I got a good price for it – it should tide you over for now, at least allow you to give Divya her paycheck and survive until the payoff. Please tell her I'm sorry.

I should probably have told you before, I kind of didn't get the chance to, but it was Dad who took the money. Don't blame him - I'm the one who initiated contact. I never thought Dad would let me down with this investment. I know you're pissed at me; I'm pissed at myself. I screwed up bad, and there's no way to make it okay again. I should have known better; I know that and I'm sorry. I can't believe I ruined everything. Not just HankMed, but, you know, us too. You're both my brother and my best friend, Hank. I never would have handed Dad the money if I thought for one second I would be putting our relationship on the line. You mean way more to me than that. Now we're broke, Dad's conveniently MIA, and you rightly don't want anything to do with me. I don't want to be without my brother. I'm all by myself, and it's my own fault. I'm not good by myself.

It's like I tried to tell you before, you've been bailing me out of trouble my whole life. No wonder you're sick of me. I'm sick of me, of hurting you over and over, of never getting it right. It's about time you were able to live the life you deserve without my screwups. I'll make this up to you… the last thing I do.

My life insurance policy is worth about $500,000. I emailed you the relevant info on that. It still won't be the full amount of what our account was, but it's a nice sum. You can put HankMed back on its feet, or you can finance another career move. But I don't want to be a hindrance to you anymore. I want you to be happy and I hope someday you'll be able to forgive me… not just for the money thing, but for, you know… this too.

My apologies to Boris if I leave a mess. I love you, bro. I'm so, so sorry. Please believe that.

It was unsigned.

By now there was a cold, dark feeling growing in Hank's gut, as though he had swallowed a block of ice. Not good by myself… last thing I do… life insurance… forgive me... love you... Sorry…Sorry… Hardly daring to process the letter, he clutched the paper tightly in his hand as he began to climb the stairs. He found himself standing in front of Evan's bedroom door, shaking uncontrollably from every fiber in his body. He called, "Evan?" his voice strangely choked and hoarse. Please answer me. I'm begging you… Please answer. No answer. He pushed the door open, forgetting to allow his heart to beat, and saw… an empty darkened room. No trace of Evan, but he didn't know whether to be relieved or even more afraid.

He took a shuddering breath as inexplicable tears began to cloud his eyes. He saw the bathroom light on beneath the closed door. "Evan?" he called again, praying his brother was just taking a bath or something. Again, no answer. He forced himself to walk to the door, to push it open, even as he felt the urge to vomit.

By this point, Hank had almost expected it. He had been fervently hoping that he was misinterpreting the contents of this bizarre note. He was desperate to believe that he was overreacting, becoming hysterical, that Evan would never do such a thing… that his words spoken in anger had not crushed the younger man so completely that he would consider the unthinkable as a means for atonement. Surely it wasn't possible – Evan loved life far too much. But his training as a doctor had taught him to plan for the worst and hope for the best. He was hoping to find Evan safe and sound in the bathroom doing, well, whatever, but he was steeling himself to find Evan not okay. Because if Evan was not okay, he would have to be ready to make Evan okay.

But nothing would ever have been able to completely prepare him for finding his little brother dead on the bathroom floor.

The wordless cry he heard, a wail of unimaginable grief and heartbreak, came from his own lips. He was dimly aware of the bloodied razor on the floor near Evan's mangled wrists as he searched in vain for a pulse. He didn't want to look into the glazed eyes, still with the remnants of tears caught in his eyelashes, but completely devoid of that passionate spark that made him Evan. Later on, he would look back and wonder how a man so afraid of blood could choose such a grisly method to end his own life. He would also wonder exactly how long he fruitlessly performed CPR on his lifeless brother before realizing that Evan was utterly, completely, irrevocably gone. He would guess that it was hours before he finally had to give up.

When Jill arrived that evening, to explain that she had thrown Charlie out for good and to make a last-ditch effort at some sort of something together, she found to her horror both Lawson brothers in the upstairs bathroom. The older cradled the younger's still, blood-covered body, sobbing and whispering nonsense, his mind and spirit completely crushed by the trauma of his little brother's suicide. The one person the good doctor wasn't able to save, the one who mattered the most, would haunt his thoughts and dreams for the rest of his weary life.

The End