Eliot foisted Parker off on Hardison and watched as Nate trudged toward them, leaving Sophie staring at the rehab facility. He looked like he was ready to chew through an arm. Eliot shoved his hands in the pockets of his Levis and studied the older man. He was pale, still shaking, and acted like he had a hell of a headache.

He was surprised. He'd figured one of the first things he'd do once he was free of the rehab facility would be to get a drink. But from the look of him he hadn't. Maybe this had actually done some good. Maybe Nate realized he had a problem. Maybe now he was ready to quit.

Parker and Hardison were already in one of the cars. Eliot stood between Nate and the two cars, waiting to see what he was going to do. Nathan approached Eliot but wouldn't quite look him in the eyes. He held out his hand, jittery and tense.

As Nate came up beside Eliot and stopped, he could sense nothing from the other man. All he could feel was his body's quiet betrayal. He knew that Sophie was at his back, knew that she was angry, but he couldn't feel it either; just the desperation that was eating away at him. He licked his lips and tried not to sound as agitated as he felt. "You guys go ahead. I'll take the other car and give you guys a call later." He motioned for Eliot to hand him the keys with the hand he had stuck out.

Sophie licked her lips and shook her head. "I think I'd better go with you, Nate. You're still going through withdrawal and you shouldn't be alone." Sophie turned toward Eliot. "You go with Hardison and Parker, help him keep an eye on her."

Eliot frowned and shook his head. He stepped in front of Nathan as he tried to go around him, hand to his chest, and stopped him from getting in the driver's side of the other car. "Uh uh. You ain't driving. Go wait in the passenger side."

Nate stood for a moment, trying to figure out some way to get his way on this. He needed to go now. He'd been without alcohol long enough. His mind was doing ugly things to him, showing him things he didn't want to see. He needed to get numb.

Eliot could feel the waves of tension coming off of Nathan. He could tell Nate was having a hard time holding it together and knew that he wasn't going to be quitting. He felt the small bit of hope he'd had fade away. He sighed. "Go on."

He watched as Nate looked between him and Sophie, finally realizing the situation building there. He licked his lips. "Hurry. I don't want to be sitting in the car all day." He kept his head down and went over to the other side of the car.

Eliot turned and saw the confused look on Sophie's face. He stepped forward and lowered his voice. "Look, he's going to stop at the first bar he sees. Do you think you're up to handling Nate on a bender in a public place?"

Sophie licked her lips and looked through the windshield to see Nathan fidgeting in the passenger's seat. "I could just take him home. Make sure he doesn't drink. This is his third day without a drink. He is so close. We could just make sure he finishes detoxing."

Eliot frowned. He knew Sophie was smart. She just didn't want to see the truth when it came to Nathan. Come to think of it, Nate seemed to have that effect on him as well. Eliot pushed the unpleasant thought back down. He couldn't deal with that right now. "Do you really think you're going to be able to keep him from drinking when he's not ready to quit?"

Sophie shrugged and looked away. She realized it wasn't as easy as that, but she wasn't quite ready to give up either. Nathan was worth saving. He just had to want to be saved. She'd thought maybe she'd be incentive enough. However, it looked like there wasn't anything Nathan would crawl out of his bottle for. "It's worth a shot."

Eliot started to say something but turned as he heard the car door open.

"Would you guys save it for later? I have places to go and if you won't let me go alone then you need to get a move on. You know, at this point I don't care who drives. Just get in the car."

"Hold your horses, Nate. I'll be there in a second." He turned back to Sophie. "It won't matter if he completely detoxes, Sophie. Not as long as he doesn't address the reason behind the drinking."

Sophie tapped her toe, glancing between the man in front of her and the one glaring at her from the front seat. She threw up her hands. "Fine." She brushed the hair off her face. "Just make sure he gets home intact."

Eliot nodded, turned, and got into the car. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He turned the car toward home, hoping maybe he was wrong. Maybe Nate would wait until they got home before he started drinking. He glanced at the man beside him, knowing he was fooling himself.

Beside him, Nathan still hadn't stopped fidgeting. He could feel the growing sense of urgency from the man next to him, like a dog foaming at the mouth. Eliot's gut churned, the bad feeling he'd had since the beginning of this stupid job was coming back with a vengeance.

Nate tried to take a deep breath through his clenched teeth. Relief was so close. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin, maybe chew through some wood. Rubbing at a spot of skin above his brow he gestured up the road. "There's a bar up here on the next corner. Stop there."

Eliot tightened his hands on the wheel. "Why don't you just wait? You have whiskey at home."

Nathan dug his fingers into the seat beside him. His skin was splitting apart with everything that was trying to crawl out of him. He just knew it; he could feel it. "Because I don't want to wait until I get home, Eliot! Maybe I want something besides whiskey. You ever think of that!" He stopped and licked his lips, lowered his voice. "Now, either stop and come in with me, or pull over and let me out. Now."

Eliot clenched his teeth but pulled into an empty parking space on the road across from the bar. It was still early enough that there were plenty of parking spaces. Nathan was out of the car and across the street before Eliot had the chance to cut the car off. He sighed and pushed the hair off his face, watching as his lover disappeared into the interior of the bar. At least the place wasn't a dive. He'd give Nate one thing, he usually picked good watering holes.

He climbed out of the car and headed across the road. Looked like Sophie's plan had backfired spectacularly.

* * *

Eliot glowered at the guy who had toppled into him as he slid off his barstool. The evening was quickly wearing on and the place was close to packed. Eliot jostled the guy back and then made sure he gave the barfly the coldest stare he had just so he wouldn't start something. He couldn't concentrate on a bar fight and make sure that Nathan didn't get hurt at the same time. Nathan was beyond drunk, he was smashed. With the amount of tolerance Nate had built up . . . Eliot couldn't even fathom how much he'd drank tonight to get this drunk. He'd seen it, he just had a hard time wrapping his mind around it.

He tried to take a deep breath and winced as his lungs burned from the smoke in the air. This was not his idea of a good time. The bar wasn't even playing any good music. It all sounded like something Hardison would listen to.

He grabbed Nate's arm as he raised it to get the bartender's attention again. "You don't need any more, Nate. Let's head home. You can finish killing your liver there if you want to."

Nathan glanced blearily at his lover, blinking to make his eyes focus where they were supposed to. His body seemed to follow his head and he felt himself start to sway towards Eliot. He blinked as Eliot's strong hands gripped his arms and steadied him. Nathan grinned and threw his arm over Eliot's shoulders, trying to nuzzle into his neck. "Just one more. Then we'll go home and you can put me to bed."

Eliot watched as Nathan tried to leer at him but it came out all wobbly, like the muscles in his face weren't working properly. "You ain't getting one more. I bet you can't even feel your face right now."

Nathan snorted. "I'm way past not feeling my face. I can't even feel my tongue."

"Well, that would explain why you're slurring your words so badly wouldn't it." The bartender started over their way. Eliot shook his head and handed out three bills, enough to cover the drinks and a tip. He stood up off the stool, keeping his hands on Nathan so he wouldn't slide off the barstool. "Come on. Let's get you home. You can finish this little party there."

Nathan opened his mouth to argue but then frowned and shrugged. He hadn't been with Eliot in three days. Heading home sounded good. As long as he could get at the Jameson there. "Fine." He grinned up at his lover. "I'll even let you use the lasso."

Eliot looked around to see if anybody overheard, his cheeks turning red. "Nate . . ." He trailed off and sighed. It wouldn't do any good. He helped Nathan slide off the barstool and tried to guide him to the door, but Nate was pulling in the other direction. Eliot stopped. "Where are you going, Nate? The door is this way."

"Bathroom."

Eliot sighed and steered the other man into the bathroom. He stood by the sink and watched as Nathan stood next to the urinal and tried to unzip himself. He staggered to the left and Eliot rushed forward to grab him. He held him up as Nathan unzipped his trousers and reached in to liberate himself from the fabric. Nathan finally braced himself on the wall with his left hand and Eliot stepped back.

He watched Nathan's back as he listened to the sound of piss hitting the metal of the urinal. He sighed and checked his watch. It was nearing nine. They'd been there for four hours. He had no idea how Nathan was still standing.

When he was finished Nate seemed to have some trouble getting himself tucked back in and situated. Eliot waited, but when it became evident that Nathan wasn't having any success he stepped forward and knelt on the nasty floor. "Here, you don't want to get yourself caught." He started to zip up Nate's pants when he heard the door open.

"What the fuck?"

Eliot leaned around Nate's hip to see the asshole who'd jostled him standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Eliot glared and stood, pushing the hair out of his face. "You got a problem?"

The guy in the door held up his hands and smirked. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you and your boyfriend here. But doing it in a public place here, I don't know, maybe a couple fags like you like being watched."

Eliot growled and started forward but Nathan stumbled and Eliot had to step back and catch him. The guy in the door was smirking. Eliot felt his own face spread in an unpleasant smile. He put Nathan's arm over his shoulder and helped guide him to the door. The asshole continued to stand in the doorway, blocking their exit.

Eliot felt his smile grow. "Your momma didn't teach you any manners." He let go of Nathan's hand and jabbed outward, catching the guy in the throat. The big guy let out an ugly choking noise and then went down.

Eliot stepped over the guy and then helped Nate over him. He let the door close behind him and then led Nathan outside. The cool night air felt good on his overheated skin and he stopped a moment, just breathing. He fucking hated cigarette smoke. He'd have to take a shower when he got home or he wouldn't be able to sleep for the smell clogging his nostrils.

* * *

Once home, Eliot tried to lead Nathan to the bedroom but he wasn't having any of it. Nathan pulled out of his grasp and weaved dangerously toward the couch.

Nathan blinked down at the piece of furniture, trying to make it stay still. He reached out and managed to grab the arm of the sofa and fling himself onto the cushions, mostly. At least he was numb enough that his back hitting the arm that way didn't hurt. "I'm not ready for bed. Come here."

Eliot sighed and ran his hands through his hair. With traffic it'd taken them about an hour to get home from the bar. He'd half hoped that Nathan would've fallen asleep in the car so Eliot could just put him to bed. Of course, that meant he would have had to carry him up the stairs but he could do that. It wasn't that much more difficult than leading and supporting his drunken ass as he weaved all over the damn place.

He watched a moment and then shook his head. "I ain't in the mood to cuddle." He was tired. This case had sucked and the worry over Nathan had worn him down good. He might actually sleep a whole three hours at one stretch tonight. He went to the kitchen and came back out with a glass of water. Eliot sat it down on the coffee table in front of Nathan and stared at him a minute. "I'm going to take a shower. Drink some water while you sit here, Nathan. You've drunk enough tonight that I'm surprised you're still up walking. You need to rehydrate."

Nathan glared up at him, eyes tracking just off to the left. "Stop mothering me and go take a shower."

Eliot shook his head. Nate usually wasn't a sullen drunk but he had his moments. It looked like this was going to be one of them. "Fine, whatever." He started stripping on his way to the bedroom, eager to be free of the smoke stench in his clothes. A hot shower would feel good. Maybe the heat would help ease the tension in his shoulders.

Nathan watched as Eliot walked into the bedroom. He waited until he heard the water start up and then pushed himself up off the couch. He stumbled, but managed to catch himself on the back of a chair. He made his way into the kitchen with the help of some strategically placed furniture. He grabbed a bottle of Jameson out of the cabinet and unscrewed the top.

He turned up the bottle and let the liquid pour down his throat. The onslaught of whiskey didn't bother him this time. His throat was long numbed to the burn of the liquor. He pulled the bottle away before he had it fully upright and some splashed over his chin onto his blue oxford. He brought his head up from blinking down at the spot on his shirt and staggered.

He ended up with his back to the fridge. The coolness from the refrigerator door was soothing through his oxford shirt and he slid down so he was sitting in the floor, propped up by the fridge. This was a good place to sit. It was cool, it was calm, and it was slightly dark. He could feel himself start to calm inside, the turmoil of the past few years starting to fade away; the panic of the last few days sliding into nothingness. A few more drinks should do it, and then he could rest. He just needed a few more.

* * *

Eliot hated to leave the warmth of the shower. The heat had eased the tension in his neck and shoulders, and the headache that had been building in the back of his head had faded. But he needed to get out and check on Nathan. He hadn't turned his radio on so he'd have a better chance of hearing if Nate fell, but the sound of the water hitting the tiles was loud enough that he probably wouldn't hear anyway.

He sighed and turned off the water. Grabbing his towel, he stepped out of the oversized shower. Eliot toweled off his hair, squeezing the ends so drops wouldn't spill down his back, and then ran the towel over the rest of his skin before wrapping the towel around his waist.

He padded out into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of boxers and some sweatpants. Eliot tossed the towel back into the bathroom. He'd take care of it later. Right now, he needed to try and get Nate off the couch and into bed. The living room was quiet and dim, only the one table lamp turned on for illumination.

When Eliot first stepped out into the living room he didn't see Nathan. He'd probably lain down on the couch. "Nate?"

He walked around the couch and frowned at the empty cushions, at the untouched water. He growled and turned toward the kitchen, anger flaring through him so brightly it blinded him. "Nate, you've had enough!"

He rounded the bar and squinted into the gloom of the kitchen. It was dim enough that he probably wouldn't have spotted him as quickly as he did if his body hadn't been in spasm while he vomited.

"Fuck!" He hurried over to where Nate was passed out in the floor, body slumped and legs stretched out along the kitchen tile. He lifted him a little, trying to prop him up so that his body could expel the alcohol without Nate breathing it back into his lungs.

"Jesus, Nate! Come on, man." He held him, grimacing as he felt warm liquid pour over his hand where it was clasped around Nathan's chest. Nathan was insensate, but his body kept heaving, spewing amber liquid and bile over his chest, pants, and the floor. Eliot didn't know where it was all coming from. He didn't think Nate's stomach was big enough to hold everything that was coming up.

Eliot felt his foot slip in the growing puddle and he landed on his ass in the warm mess. "Damn it!" He grimaced but didn't let go of the man in his arms. He kept hold of Nathan, feeling the muscles in his stomach, sides, and back spasm.

Nathan kept heaving and heaving, even after stuff stopped coming up, his body continued to wretch, muscles clenching in a vain attempt to rid itself of more poison. Eliot managed to get vertical, still keeping Nathan in his arms. He half carried, half drug, Nathan out of the kitchen and into the dining area, away from the mess in the kitchen floor. He laid him on his side in a modified recovery position, cradling him, trying to get a better look at him.

"God, Nate, you're cold. Why are you so fucking cold?" His mind supplied him with the answer, hypothermia. He wished he'd never read those damn books. Eliot laid his hand against Nathan's face, his skin felt clammy. He pulled Nathan's shirt off and laid his hand against his chest, trying to sense the rise and fall. Eliot licked his lips and placed his fingers under Nathan's nose, trying to feel his exhalations. Most were shallow and they were all so fucking slow. Eliot could count only about eight breaths a minute. Every so often Nathan would take a huge, stuttering breath, and each time Eliot felt like he was going throw up because each time it seemed to take longer and longer for Nathan to take another one. He swallowed and jumped up, switching on the light so he could see Nate.

He dropped to his knees next to his lover and tried not to panic. He was turning blue! Not just pale and hung-over, but fucking blue. "Nate! Nate, wake the fuck up, man!" Eliot reached out and grabbed the flesh on Nathan's upper arm, twisting cruelly. There was no response from the other man. Eliot jumped up and ran to the bedroom where he'd left his cell phone. He didn't have the ability to deal with this here. Nathan was going to fucking die if he didn't get him to an emergency room.

He ran back to the kitchen while dialing 911. "Yeah, I've got a 40 year old male with alcohol poisoning. He's unresponsive, his breathing is severely suppressed, and he's turning blue. I need an ambulance." He listened as the operator rattled off his address. "Yeah, that's it."

He heard a noise and brought his eyes back up from where he'd been flipping on more lights. "Goddamn it, Nate! Fuck!" He threw the phone, heedless of the operator's concerned voice, and knelt back down next to Nathan as his muscles seized up and his body started to shake.

He knelt by, helpless. The only thing he could do was make sure that Nathan didn't knock into something as he seized. Eliot sat down on his heels, aching to take the other man in his arms, and watched as time kept marching across his wrist.

* * *

Eliot sat in the chair next to Nathan's bed and sipped at the weak coffee given to him by the duty nurse. He shivered slightly. Why did hospitals keep the rooms so damn cold? He took another sip of his coffee and set it down on the bed table to rub at his arms. The nurses had taken pity on him, and given him a pair of scrubs so he could cover his bare chest and change out of his vomit soaked sweat pants. He hadn't taken the time to change before coming to the hospital. He'd just hopped in the back of the ambulance with Nathan.

He looked back at the man on the bed and picked up his hand again, rubbing his thumb over the other man's knuckles. He didn't look much better now than he had last night. At least he wasn't blue. He was still pale, but the cyanotic tinge to his skin was gone and that at least was some improvement. But the sight of him in that bed was frightening. It was one thing when it was him. It was something else entirely when it was someone he loved.

They had Nathan hooked up to both an EEG and an EKG to monitor for more seizures, and to make sure that he didn't experience any cardiac dysrhythmias. They were still pumping fluids in, and there was still an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Eliot glanced down at the bag hanging on the side of the bed. He was relieved to see the bag had some fluid in it. Nathan's body was starting to produce urine again. That was good; it meant the dehydration was abating. The color had also improved; it was no longer the darkish amber that signified dehydration.

But Nate still hadn't really woken up yet. The doctors came in every once in a while and did neuro checks on him, but Nathan quickly slid back into sleep, not really seeming to comprehend where he was or what was happening. Eliot knew the doctors weren't happy by the faces they made when they tried to get him to answer their questions. So far they would only give Eliot the party line though. He was resting. Like he couldn't see that with his own eyes.

The past night had driven him to the verge of that precipice he seemed to balance on so often. He knew that sometimes the only thing standing between the living and the dying was a person's will. Eliot had been afraid that maybe since death was looming so near Nathan had just decided to go along, that he'd finally given up.

But as the sun rose and Nate's vitals started to improve he felt his fear turning into a weary sort of apathy. He couldn't even be angry at this point. Forget Nathan, this last incident had just about broken him. He didn't want to ever, ever see Nathan that way again. This was it, the final straw. He'd thought they'd reached it so many times before, but now he knew that those had just been trial runs. This was the last inning and things had to change. There was just no other option.

* * *

Of course Nathan waited until Eliot had stepped out to the hospital cafeteria for something to eat before he woke up. Eliot returned to Nathan's floor just in time to see the doctor coming out of Nate's room. Eliot shifted the cellophane wrapped sandwich to his left hand and nodded to the doctor. "Is there any change?"

Dr. Hamilton glanced over his shoulder as a patient was wheeled down the hallway in a wheelchair, and beckoned for Eliot to move to the side of the hallway. "Mr. Courtney is awake. He's relatively oriented. The last bit of confusion is probably more from the alcohol, and waking up in a strange place, than from the seizure."

Eliot nodded and swallowed. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but found his throat had closed up. The relief he felt at hearing that Nathan was okay hit him with surprising force. He'd numbed out while waiting for Nathan to wake up. Now that comforting blanket of dissociation was falling away.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "That's good to hear. What about the rest of it." He felt his cheeks start to burn at the wobble in his voice. He wasn't going to fucking cry, damn it!

Dr. Hamilton smiled softly at him. "His lungs sound good and no arrhythmias have shown up on the EKG. I'm going to keep him one more night, monitor his input and output, and make sure his EEG stays normal."

Eliot ran a hand over his mouth and chin. "Thanks, Doc."

The doctor held out a hand to stop Eliot from moving around him. "Mr. Williams, some of the blood work I've ordered has come back elevated." He glanced around and motioned for Eliot to follow him. He led the younger man down the hall into an empty doctor's lounge. "Please, have a seat."

Eliot chewed on the inside of his lip and sat down in one of the softly padded chairs. The relief he'd felt was running out his fingertips and draining through his toes, washed away by a flood of adrenaline.

Dr. Hamilton smiled once again at the young man. "Once we had your friend stable I ordered what's known as a Comprehensive Metabolic Panel. This is routine when we suspect heavy use of alcohol. Some of the tests, mainly the liver panel, came back elevated."

Eliot shifted in the chair and swallowed. He could feel the blood drain from his face. It wasn't really surprising, still his veins filled with ice. "Are you trying to tell me his liver is failing?"

"He's not in liver failure yet, Mr. Williams. However, there is some concern that he has some liver damage. At this point it's not bad enough to do anything about, but we do need to keep a watch on it."

Eliot felt every muscle in his body just go limp. He really needed to get off this roller coaster before it fucking killed him. "I see."

Dr. Hamilton sat forward and met the young man's eyes. "It's very important that your friend stop drinking. Has anyone talked to him about it?"

Eliot didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

The doctor studied him for a moment more and then nodded. "Okay. He's going to start experiencing withdrawal. We have him on some benzodiazepines to help. They may make him a little drowsy."

Eliot nodded. "Thanks." He left the doctor in the lounge and walked down the hall toward Nathan's room. As he approached the door he tried to think of what he'd say. He was so torn between grabbing the other man up in his arms and knocking the shit out of him that he didn't know what to do.

He glared down at the sandwich in his left hand and grimaced. Any appetite he'd had, had faded away at the doctor's news. He couldn't do this. He would not sit around and watch as Nathan killed himself. He was no fucking Elisabeth Shue and he'd be damned if he'd let Nate pull a Nicholas fucking Cage. This shit just wasn't going to go down like that.

Eliot pushed open the door to Nathan's room and closed it gently behind him. He stood just inside and observed Nate as he lay on the bed.

He was still pale, even the afternoon sunlight didn't chase away his pallor. Eliot found himself looking for any signs of jaundice, but there wouldn't be any. Not yet. He just couldn't help but check. He could see it in his mind; Nathan's sclera and skin tinted a sickening yellow. He knew that from here on out he would always look at Nathan and search for any hint of liver failure. He fucking hated that. When he looked at his lover he wanted to notice the way the black of his hair accented the blue of his eyes or the way his pants fit across his ass. Not the color of his skin, and not the way his hands trembled. He wanted Nathan back. Not this palsied, hollowed out stranger that had taken his place.

His attention was brought back to the bed by a shifting of movement. Nate was staring out the window. He either hadn't heard Eliot come into the room, or he was ignoring him. Eliot came farther inside and crossed in front of Nathan's line of sight, wondering if this lack of attention was from the lingering effects of the alcohol poisoning or from the drugs they'd given him.

Nathan jumped a little as he noticed Eliot. He licked his lips and rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing as the motion pulled on the IV line. "Eliot, I didn't see you come in."

Eliot nodded and sat down in the chair. He tossed his sandwich on the bed table. He winced inwardly as he got a good glance at Nathan's eyes. There were some broken blood vessels from the force of his heaving, causing his eyes too look red and painful. He blinked to keep his own eyes from watering in sympathy. "I noticed. How you feeling?"

Nathan nodded, regretting the action. It felt like his brain was shifting in his head. "Fine. Yeah . . ." He trailed off and swallowed. He studied the cellophane wrapped sandwich on the table over his bed and felt his stomach flip. He tore his attention from the sandwich and made himself focus on Eliot. He frowned as he really looked at him for the first time. "Why are you wearing scrubs?"

Eliot nodded his head, mouth twisting in an ugly grimace. "They tell you why you're in here?"

Nathan stared over Eliot's shoulder out the window, gaze becoming unfocused. "Yeah." He picked at the IV line in the back of his hand.

Eliot knocked Nathan's hand away. "Don't pick at that." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "The nurses were kind enough to give me these after you puked all over my sweats."

Nathan grimaced and looked away. "Sorry. I'll get you a new pair."

Eliot clenched his teeth, trying to hold his patience. "I don't want a new pair of sweats, Nate. I want to never have to see you like this again. Can you not understand that?" He stood and paced over to the window. "You know, for a guy who doesn't like hospitals you spend an awful lot of time waking up in them."

Nathan didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. One, he didn't have the energy, and two, Eliot was right.

After some deep breaths and a few quiet curse words, Eliot turned and faced the other man again. "Are you still going to deny it, Nathan? Are you still going to tell me you're not an alcoholic?"

Nathan remained quiet, staring out the window. He hated that damned word. It was so ugly. It was something he never thought would pertain to him. His hand moved to pick at the clear covering over the IV needle again and Eliot came forward and grabbed his wrist. "I said stop."

Eliot squeezed Nathan's wrist a little harder and then let go. He propped himself on the edge of the bed so he could look Nathan in the face more easily. "You had a fucking seizure, Nate. You almost fucking died. Do you get that? Does that matter at all to you?"

Nathan let his head fall back on the pillow and stared Eliot in the face. It wasn't supposed to be like this. When had it gotten out of his control? If he could just pinpoint the precise moment it got out of hand then he could keep it from happening again.

Eliot watched as Nathan's blue eyes started to shimmer with tears. He wanted to reach out and hold the other man, but he wouldn't allow himself to do it. Coddling Nathan hadn't done anything to help the situation. He had to stop, he had to show Nathan that he meant business.

When Nathan closed his eyes a tear slipped loose, trembling on his lash before breaking free and trailing a wet line down his pale cheek. Eliot took a deep breath, resistance fading; he reached forward and wiped away the tear. "Damn it, Nate, just fucking talk to me, okay?"

Nathan opened his eyes and turned his head, not able to meet his lover's gaze. He didn't do weak very well. It made him uncomfortable, vulnerable. He cleared his throat, hoarse. "I hallucinated."

Eliot frowned and pushed himself up on the bed until his hip was against Nathan's thigh, relishing that small amount of closeness. "When?"

Nathan chewed on his bottom lip, still not meeting Eliot's gaze. It was fucking humiliating to have to admit this. "In the rehab center after I tried to leave."

Eliot nodded, not really surprised by the news. He reached out and laid a hand on top of Nathan's thigh, squeezing lightly. "That's a symptom of the DT's, Nate. Do you understand? Can you admit you have a problem now?"

Nathan finally met his gaze, but instead of looking broken, he just looked hard, pissed. "Yeah, Eliot, I get it. I'm an alcoholic. Are you happy now?"

Eliot felt the knot in his stomach loosen. He'd admitted it. Thank God, he'd finally admitted that he had a problem. Eliot smiled a little, but it did nothing to ease the tightening muscles in his face or the way his eyes burned suspiciously. Admitting you had a problem was supposedly the first step, right? "No. I'm not happy, Nate. But we can get through this. We'll get you some help and things will get better."

Nathan was shaking his head, gut clenching. Yeah, bad things had happened, but it wouldn't happen again. He could handle this. "No. Eliot, you've misunderstood. I admit, I'm an alcoholic, but it's not a problem." He pushed himself up in the bed. "Look, I'm functioning. The alcohol doesn't get in the way of me doing the job. It doesn't stop me from having a full life. I don't need help."

Eliot just sat there, face turning red. He took a deep breath and finally ground out between clenched teeth. "You call this functioning? Really? 'Cause last time I looked, drinking yourself into an early grave was not functioning." He stood up and paced the room. The need to hit something overwhelmed him and he punched the bathroom door.

He whirled around and approached the man in the bed. "How many times in the last few months have you been hurt because of your drinking? Do you know what the doctor told me before I came back in here? Your liver is damaged, Nate. I don't know how many ways I can say it. This is fucking killing you!" He shook his head, breath coming in hard pants through his nose. He pointed to the door. "I have half a mind to walk out that door right now, Nate. If I do, I ain't coming back."

Nathan felt his pulse pick up, his muscles tighten. "Yeah? Go ahead." Nate pushed himself up off the bed, gripping the sides as the room tilted. "So my liver's failing. So what, Eliot! I'd rather be dead than . . ." He trailed off, swallowing. He tried to hold back the sob that tore up his throat.

Eliot stood where he was, not moving any closer, but his eyes softened and he felt the anger fade away, replaced by fear and a deep hollow ache. How could he want to kill the man one moment and then hold him the next? It just wasn't right. "What, Nate? You'd rather be dead than what?"

Nathan took a deep gasp, trying to stop the flow of tears. It didn't matter anymore. He could see where this was going. Eliot was done with him. It was ending, just like he knew it would. "Eliot, I can't live with that movie playing over and over in my head. I can't live with the guilt that crushes me every time I'm sober. Every time I've drunk myself into oblivion I've wished for death. I've just been too weak to do it the right way. I'm sorry I dragged you through this."

Eliot crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hold the ache inside. He approached his lover's bed and sat down on it again. He picked up Nathan's hand and tried to rub some warmth back into it. He had to ignore the talk about suicide. It was too big to handle. He couldn't process it on top of everything else. "You talking about Sam? Is that the 'movie you're talking about?"

Nathan turned onto his side, tried to curl himself fetal, but Eliot wouldn't let go of his hand. He felt so hollow right now he ached. "Please, Eliot, I can't do this right now."

Eliot squeezed his hand and nodded. They both needed some time to process. "Okay, Nate." He reached forward and ran his hand through his hair. "Close your eyes and try to get some rest. I'll be right here."

He sat there, stroking Nate's hair until the other man's breathing deepened and the tension leaked from his muscles. Once he was sure Nathan was asleep he stood up off the bed and pulled out his cell phone.