Summary: Nick and Ellis were split up for a long time. As in, they didn't see each other for over a year. He won't admit it but Nick wants to see the kid's happy face again. He won't admit it but Ellis wants to hear the cynical conman again. Set after the Green Flu. Oneshot for DirectionallyChallengedKenshi.

Pairing: Nick and Ellis but ONLY friendship. It's not intended to be anymore than that.

Disclaimer: Valve owns all!

Rated: T

Extra Info: Specially for DirectionallyChallengedKenshi!

Songs: Reload by Tommy Trash but mainly On My Way by Charlie Brown. Also, Heart Attack by Demi Lovato. (... although I don't think one of them would paint their nails or wear perfume! I don't really know, I just listened to songs like that.)

The Savannahite sat dismally with an unopened and untouched beer bottle in front of him. His head was resting in his hands, his elbows propped up on the countertop.
"Aren't you gonna drink, honey?" the female bartender asked gently. He shook his head slowly. "Something troubling you?"
"Ya see, ah miss someone terribly," he blurted helplessly. "Ah wanna see him so much, but ah don't know where he is."
"He? As in, father?" He shook his head. "Brother?" Shake. "Uh, friend?" Nod. She sat back, sighing. "Have you tried to find him, honey?"
He shrugged listlessly. She sighed again and clicked her tongue. Then she spoke up. "What's his name?"
"Nick," he replied quietly.
"Surname?"
"I don't know." She seemed surprised by this, but quickly recovered.
"Well, honey, ask around! Look for others who might know him, any contacts or folk who'll know his whereabouts. Okay?"
He nodded silently and slipped off the bar stool, passing money to pay for the beer. She didn't accept it, pushing it back into his hand. "You didn't touch the beer," she explained. But before he left she called. "Honey, what's your name?"
He turned round with some enigmatic emotion in his eyes.
"Ah'm Ellis, ma'am. Thanks for the help."

The man sighed and pulled the wine nearer. He ignored the glass in front of him, instead drinking straight from the bottle. The waitress frowned at him, motioning at the glass. He ignored her too. With a raised eyebrow she took the glass.
He swore softly under his breath, wiping his mouth carelessly, setting the bottle down with a loud clunk. If the kid was here then he wouldn't be drinking. A Keith story would be babbled happily, and he'd listen with amusement.
A curvaceous young woman abruptly sat opposite him, a coy smile playing upon her lips. The man dismissed her with a cold glance, and she left with a childish pout. He gave a low sigh, muttering incomprehensible words.
Soon the woman returned, with a fresh bottle: his was already nearly empty. But if this was her attempt to get him to notice her then it failed miserably. He pointedly ignored her. She scowled and left again, leaving the bottle.
He pulled the new, full bottle towards himself, but hesitated. Was getting stoned really the solution? He contemplated this whilst opening the bottle and taking a long draught.

Ellis knocked on the mahogany door. A young woman, maybe thirty, opened it. Her dark face broke into a broad smile.
"Ellis, sweetie! It's been so long!" she beamed, drawing him into an affectionate hug. He tried to smile, and she sensed his mood. "What's wrong, sweetie?"
"Rochelle, have ya seen Nick recently?" he asked. Her expression went thoughtful. Eventually she shook her head, and he sagged. She looked, sympathy in her brown eyes.
"I'm so sorry, but not recently, no," she answered. She bit her lip. "You could ask Coach, he might know."
Ellis gave her his thanks, attempting yet again to smile, and waved as he walked down the front path.

The man set down another empty bottle. The waitress came, looking at him with distaste, and took the third bottle. She refused to give him another, suggesting he leave. He hauled himself up reluctantly, stumbling in a drunken daze.
He tottered into the street, almost tripping over the sidewalk, lurching around in his state. He almost fell on a young woman with a pink jacket, who seemed surprised.
"Whoa, buddy, hold back from the alcohol a little?" she exclaimed, helping the man onto a bench. The figure slumped, murmuring something unintelligible. The woman walked away. He watched blearily as a young man raced from a house up the road. He was wearing a blue cap that seemed oddly familiar. The man on the bench shook his head, watching the kid's back as he got further away.
"Well, looks like I have to get home," he grunted, dragging himself up off the bench.

A broad, more muscled man opened the door, his paunch receded noticeably. The school he taught at had reopened, giving him more of a chance to exercise well and often.
"Ellis! How're ya doin'?" he smiled, grasping the younger man hand in a welcoming handshake. He saw the expression on Ellis' face and his grin faltered. "What's wrong, boy?" he said seriously, as if he was talking to a troubled student.
"Have ya seen Nick?" Ellis asked, cutting straight to the chase. Coach frowned, deeply thinking.
"Matter of fact, I have. He went into a bar not too far from here," he answered. It was a thick slice of hope and Ellis clutched at it. He listened attentively to the name of the bar and directions, then sped off with a breathless thanks.
But a search of the bar revealed nothing to him. He trailed sadly away from it, feeling dejected and strangely betrayed.
He saw a person slumped on a bench, looking hammered and exhausted. He decided to be a good person and aid them. Maybe karma would be kind and help Ellis in his search if he did a good deed for someone.
He went over and hauled the man up, avoiding looking at his face so he didn't get alcohol breathed on him.
He finally got the man to his house, practically dumping him onto the couch and putting a spare blanket onto him.
Ellis didn't want to do anything else. Maybe he should copy this man and get smashed. Forget his worries. Give up. But he decided to be sensible and go to sleep, try again tomorrow.
Maybe.

The man opened his eyes, swearing colourfully when the hangover hit him. It was like a Tank had punched him in the skull, throbbing and relentless.
He heard a clattering of kitchen utensils, the sound magnified and painful thanks to the hangover. Wait, he was in a house?
Looking around, he noticed he was on a couch, under a blanket. The light hurt his eyes and he pulled the blanket up, covering his face.
Footsteps approached. Somebody was there.
"Ya awake?" came a Georgia-accented voice.
"Barely," came the dry reply. His voice was rough and sounded different from the alcohol. There was a pause.
"Hangover from all tha' drinkin'?" He groaned at the kid's question. Obviously, he growled in his mind.
"Why do you care?" he spat. No reply. He peered above the blanket, his brain still sluggish and partly unresponsive. The stranger was looking out the window.
"Ah hoped tha' my good deed would help me find someone. Ah haven't seem him for so long," he answered quietly.
The man sat up. The accent had triggered a memory.
"Do I know you?" he demanded. The kid turned, and they stared at each other. His green eyes widened. "E- Ellis?"
"Nick?" he croaked. The dark brown hair was longer and less tidy, the stubble darker and less sparse. He was wearing a different shirt, a navy one, with black trousers. But he was recognisable. He scrutinised Ellis.
He wore a red shirt with a pattern on it, maybe a logo, with worn jeans. But it was the same blue cap he'd worn the whole time they had fought the infection. His caramel hair was tousled, and his black eye was gone. A small scar crossed the bridge of his nose from the nick he had acquired on their journey.
Nick stood from the couch, the blanket forgotten. Both had lost the ability to speak. His eyes were almost watering.
After so long they had succeeded. Maybe karma really existed for those who deserved it.