2. Danny

He couldn't honestly say it was a date, not really. It was too easy and he certainly didn't care enough for it to be a date. He'd met her through a mutual acquaintance and they were just coming back from dinner, their second time out together, and while a part of Danny felt badly, most of him really just wanted to use her. He wanted sex, plain and simple and she was beautiful and he knew she was willing.

Laughing, the two of them made their way down the hall towards Danny's apartment, arms around each other's waists, an occasional kiss or touch making their progress slow. But Danny came to a sudden and abrupt halt a few feet from his doorway, dropping his arm from her waist and swallowing hard, a sudden and sickening feeling of fear washing over him.

Martin sat, unmoving on the floor in front of his apartment, head resting against his door, eyes closed, legs folded, arms hugging himself. Danny dropped to his knees before him, unsure and unsteady, fear permeating everything. Hands shaking, he reached out and brushed his fingers over Martin's cheek, squeezing his eyes shut as he let his fingers drop to his neck, sighing loudly in relief as he felt Martin's pulse beneath his skin. But the skin was colder than it should be, Danny thought.

He shook Martin gently, hand gripping his shoulder as he sat down next to him, ignoring all questions from his date. "Martin?" he murmured, leaning close, fingers passing through his hair and over the soft skin of his neck. "Wake up," he pleaded softly.

Martin's eyes fluttered open slowly and he blinked a few times, confusion washing over his expression as he met Danny's eyes. "Danny?" he asked. His eyes were cloudy, not completely focused and Danny swallowed hard again, pushing down the fear that was still trying to escape.

"Hey Fitzie," he said softly, voice gentle, eyes kind as he looked into Martin's own, a soft smile on his lips. He couldn't help the way his hands kept moving, in Martin's hair, at the back of his neck, across his shoulders...he needed to keep touching him. Assuring himself that Martin was okay.

"Danny, I..." he trailed off, frowning suddenly, his eyes still not seeing exactly what was before him. His hands gripped weakly to Danny's upper arms and he pulled him closer. "I stole her pills," he mumbled, eyes cast downward shamefully.

Danny frowned and took a deep breath trying to work through what Martin was saying, while a part of him knew very well where this was leading. In the back of his mind he'd been dreading it actually. "Whose pills?" he asked gently.

Martin shook his head, seeming agitated. He let go of Danny and began digging through his pockets, his movements clumsy and frantic. "Here," he murmured, relief settling over his features as he finally found what he was looking for. He pushed a small orange pill bottle into Danny's hands, sighing and leaning back against the door again, his eyes falling shut. "Gina Hill," he added, voice trembling again.

Danny glanced down at the empty prescription pill bottle in his hand, eyes scanning the label and finding not only Gina Hill's name but also the high dosage for Vicodin. He bit his bottom lip and looked up at Martin's face, hating the way his heart wouldn't stop aching. He was scared.

"I...Danny, I took them from her house," he said slowly, opening his eyes, cloudy but still bright blue, frightened and uncertain. "They're not mine," he added, an edge of panic starting to creep into his voice. "I...don't know how to stop." His blue eyes filled with tears, spilling over when he looked down. Danny was seconds from breaking. He wanted to gather Martin up into his arms and take him away, because this never should have happened. Not to Martin. Of all people, not Martin...lying here broken and scared, addicted to painkillers and so very, very alone. "I came here because...I need someone to h-help me and I thought that you might..." he trailed off, seeming uncertain. Eyes blinked and he leaned closer, something Danny couldn't resist. He pulled Martin into his embrace, biting down on his lower lip as he felt the other man collapse against him. "I wasn't sure though because...I'm sorry for...for the way I've treated you. But then you weren't home," he went on, babbling, words melting together in a way Danny had never heard from him before. "And I didn't know where else to go...so I waited…"

"Shh," he murmured, hands running up and down Martin's back, lips against his cheek as he soothed him. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly. "I deserved all of that, but let's not worry about it now, okay Fitz?" he asked, pulling back slightly and looking into Martin's eyes. Gently, he wiped away the tears on his face, unable to help leaning forward and kissing his forehead. "We can talk about it all soon, I promise. But for right now...can you stand up?" he asked softly. Martin nodded, his eyes full of a trust Danny wasn't sure he deserved. "Ok then, let's go inside."

Carefully, Danny helped Martin to his feet, noting with some trepidation the way Martin seemed to be so unsteady, the way he leaned against Danny for support. Once inside Danny led him to the couch, becoming more and more nervous and worried by the second as he noticed how sleepy Martin seemed, the way his eyes kept wanting to fall shut. Softly, he told Martin he'd be right back to which he received half a nod as Martin closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch.

He walked into the kitchen, trailed closely behind by Stacey, his date. He quickly noticed her agitation and obvious curiosity but he was more concerned with what to do with Martin.

"Danny..."

"Look, I'm sorry Stacey, but I have to take care of him right now and--"

She put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head. "I understand that Danny. He needs to go to the hospital," she added, a worried expression on her face. He nodded, turning suddenly when he remembered. She was a nurse. His eyes widened and he grabbed her hand, pulling her into the living room with him. He sat down next to Martin, gently touching his face again.

"Fitzie?" he murmured, fingers shaking a bit as he passed them through Martin's hair. Slowly, Martin opened his eyes, head turning a bit to look at Danny. He smiled softly and shut his eyes to which Danny shook him gently and called his name again. "Martin...I need to ask you something," he said, forcing himself to stay calm, to not let his voice tremble.

Stacey knelt down in front of Martin and leaned closer, pressing her fingers to his wrist, eyes watching the clock on the wall behind him. After a minute she looked up sharply at Danny and stood up. "Danny...I don't know how much he's taken, but he needs to go to the hospital. His pulse is too slow," she said briskly, suddenly seeming very professional. Not at all the easy, one night stand he'd had the impression of earlier.

"Martin?" Danny called again, sounding more frantic now. He shook him gently, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat, smiling when Martin opened his eyes again. "Martin look at me, please?" he asked, nodding when the other man did. "How many pills did you take?" he asked, keeping his voice purposely soft, gentle. He was seconds from panicking even though he knew it wouldn't do anyone any good, least of all Martin. But this never should have happened. Logically he knew it wasn't his fault, but he was wholeheartedly blaming himself for Martin's addiction. There were so many things that he could have done differently but hadn't and he was constantly asking himself "what if"...no more than at this moment.

Martin frowned and shook his head, leaning into Danny. "Don't know," he mumbled. "I'm tired Danny," he added.

Danny nodded, hands on Martin's shoulders now, forcing him to sit up straight. "I know you are Fitz, but I need you to stay awake for a little bit longer, okay?" he asked, fingers brushing gently over Martin's jaw, his neck. "We need to take you to the hospital."

Martin shook his head adamantly, his body tensing, agitated. "No Danny," he pleaded. "No hospitals." Danny bit his lower lip and shut his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. The sadness he heard in Martin's voice, the fear...it only took him back to the shooting and it was almost too much.

"We have to Martin," he murmured, already pulling Martin towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "I promise I won't leave you," he went on. "I'll stay with you this time...please." He was close to begging. Either that or forcefully pulling Martin up and dragging him downstairs.

But Martin was silent for a few moments more before mumbling an agreement, hand coming to grip Danny's arm for a second before he stood up. "Danny..." he said, sounding panicked. "No ambulances," he said, eyes wide for the first time all night.

Danny swallowed hard, wondering exactly what it was Martin was remembering, and then he nodded. "All right Fitz...no ambulances."

-----

Danny shut his eyes and leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands, unable to stop the doctor's words from echoing painfully in his head. Overdose, detox, counseling, rehab... Words he had wanted to stay far away from for the rest of his life. But now it was happening to Martin and Danny felt wholly responsible for how far his friend had fallen.

Friend... He shook his head at that too, not sure if the word even applied anymore. Nor could he stop the stab of longing he'd always felt where Martin was concerned. The longing that wanted them to be more than friends. He stood up and crossed the hall, looking through the window into Martin's room. He was unable to take his eyes off of the other man, watching to make sure his chest continued to rise and fall. Shivering, Danny hugged himself tightly, biting down on his lip as he let his eyes drift to the machines that Martin was hooked up to. He hated them. Hated every beep and light and knob and number. He'd hated them last time too and that was part of what had kept him from crossing the threshold into the other man's room then. But now, he knew there wasn't a choice, and this time, Martin wasn't unconscious.

Quietly, he shut the door behind him and took a deep breath, swallowing nervously as Martin turned his head, blue eyes weary as they met his. Danny tried smiling and knew it was a poor imitation, but he didn't look away, crossing the room instead to sit in the chair at Martin's bedside.

"Hey Fitz," he murmured, so unsure of where they stood that he couldn't decide if he should reach out and take Martin's hand or not. He wanted to. Wanted to provide some sort of comfort, but he had no idea if Martin would want to be touched just yet. Or at all.

But Martin reached out to him, searching for his hand, eyes locked on Danny's, full of a desperation Danny knew too well. Eagerly, he took Martin's hand in his and squeezed gently, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Jesus Martin...you scared me," he whispered, struggling to hold in the feelings that were all too anxious to escape.

Martin shook his head and grasped tighter to Danny's hand. He seemed to struggle with something he wanted to say but in the end said nothing, turning slightly onto his side, careful of the IV and whatever else it was that he was hooked up to. Blue eyes continued to stare at Danny, pleading almost, full of fear that Danny knew was easier to keep inside than to actually admit to. And Danny felt helpless as he watched those eyes fill with tears and then close. He reached out and closed his other hand over the one of Martin's that he already held, leaning forward slightly and just watching as Martin fell asleep again. He fell asleep himself a few hours later, making sure to continue holding Martin's hand in one of his own.

Uncomfortable and stiff, he awoke to the uncanny feeling of someone watching him. Opening his eyes he met Martin's gaze and again attempted a small smile. It was early morning, something he could tell from the dim light that was starting to creep in through the window. He stretched his hands over his head, turning his head from side to side, trying to loosen his limbs.

"You don't have to stay here every minute Danny," Martin murmured. Danny raised an eyebrow, surprised when he looked down and saw a small smile on Martin's face. Danny shook his head and looked down, not sure how to respond. But Martin continued on before he could even think of something to say. "They told me that they…had to pump my stomach because I'd…I'd OD'd," he said softly, voice carefully void of emotion. "That I was…well, any longer and it would've been much worse." He stopped, eyes looking away. Danny watched him closely, his words cutting through him like knives they hurt so badly. But Danny knew Martin had to say them out loud, because letting them simmer inside was worse. It would only build his fear into panic and it wouldn't be long before he broke again.

"They also said that today they want to…well there's some sort of rapid detox where they put you under anesthesia and flush out all of the…drugs," he murmured.

"And then?" Danny asked, sounding slightly skeptical. He remembered well the crushing pain of his own withdrawal and while he didn't want Martin to go through that by any means, he knew it had served to make him stronger in some way. To make his resolve to stay away from alcohol into something more. A physical and emotional memory of a hellish pain he never wanted to experience again.

"Counseling and check ups and…" he trailed off waving his hand to indicate whatever else it was that the doctors had told him. Danny knew though and he intended to make sure it was followed through…even though he also knew, quite well, that it was Martin's sole responsibility to make sure he got well.

"Would you do something for me?" Martin asked after a few moments, his voice sounding timid again.

Danny looked up, nodding. "Anything," he responded quietly.

"Be here after they put me through detox," he whispered fearfully.

"Of course," Danny replied, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat. It was almost too much; this was never supposed to have happened to Martin. "And anything else you need Fitz," he added.

Martin sighed, looking away. "I don't understand how this happened Danny," he murmured, eyes still focused on the window. "I mean, I know how but...it was like I lost all of my common sense, my conscience, and something blocked me from seeing what was happening. Everything I did to get more Vicodin seemed justified to me; I never questioned it. Until yesterday when I saw myself in Gina Hill's mirror...stealing her pills," he stopped abruptly, voice dry, pained by the admittance. He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered. "I wanted to throw them away then," he went on, eyes still closed. Danny reached out and took his hand again, feeling Martin's gratefulness from the way he squeezed Danny's fingers. "But I...couldn't," he said softly. "And when I took them I just...I finally knew, finally understood what had happened, but I...I took them anyway!" he said, voice shaking, sounding surprised.

There was nothing Danny could say because he knew it all so well. Knew exactly what Martin was feeling – his frustration, his confusion, his fear. It was all so familiar, and a part of Danny wanted to run. Because watching Martin go through all of this brought his own addiction right back to the forefront of his mind. But he couldn't abandon Martin now. Not this time.

The silence that lingered was comfortable in some ways, letting them both think, wondering where to go next. When Danny left a few hours later he still felt guilty and alone and his thoughts were only for Martin. He didn't go far, stepping outside for a while to walk the blocks around the hospital, wanting the fresh air and the chance to briefly escape its walls. He wondered over how everything would change now. Wondered over Martin's recovery, Martin's well-being…his own peace of mind and whatever the hell it was that happened next.

When he came back, hours later, Martin was asleep, past his rapid-detox procedure and looking strangely pale. Danny trailed his fingertips lightly down Martin's cheek, shivering at the sensation of soft, warm skin. He resumed his place at the other man's bedside after gazing at him for a few moments. Back in the uncomfortable chair, back to glancing from Martin's sleeping form to the muted TV mounted on the wall. Back to gripping Martin's fingers and wondering how to be there.

-----

Without being asked, Danny went back to Martin's apartment with him when he was discharged from the hospital. It was easier to not ask…because Danny knew Martin well enough to know that he'd never request Danny to come with him. And he was certain that Martin would just decline if Danny asked. So he took him home, ordered them both takeout, tried to help without hovering. But he could see the look in Martin's eyes and he couldn't ignore it. He was lost now, confused and scared. Danny knew this situation so well, could remember exactly what it felt like, and he hated that Martin was there now. It was exhausting, frightening and so maddeningly beyond his control. When Martin asked him to stay for the night Danny was not surprised that he didn't want to be alone, but he was surprised that he had asked.

He nodded, watching him closely for just a moment, not wanting his scrutiny to be noticed. He agreed softly, making some comment about Martin's couch being more than comfortable for him. And Martin smiled weakly, thanking him softly. It was difficult, but Danny resisted the urge to pull him into his arms. He wanted to hold Martin close and soothe him, reassure him that everything was going to be okay – even though he knew how impossible that promise was. Instead he forced himself to give Martin space, desperately hoping that the other man would come to him when he needed it most and not shut him out to preserve his pride.

tbc...