"JD, we're so close. Hang in there, little brother. It'll be over soon." Dan's voice is comforting, even though you only catch half of his words. Your breathing has diminished to wheezing gasps, drowning him out. You want so badly to say thank you, to tell him that you're so grateful and that he's the best big brother in the world.

But what comes out is: "D-Dan . . . I . . . I can't . . . do this . . . an-anymore."

Your legs are screaming. You must have lost twenty pounds by now. And your epinephrine supply is low -- not that you're going to use anymore of it anyway. Your chest is bruised and littered with needle marks, and you have a feeling that if you were to use another, it would rip apart the organ you used to call a heart.

"Johnny, you can do this. It's just a little bit longer, I promise. You hear that? I promise." Dan has never promised anything he can't deliver on. Ever.

"I . . . hear you," you breathe, forcing burning breath after burning breath into your lungs. "Dan . . . I love you."

"I love you too, little brother." His voice is distant. "I'll see you soon." You snap your cellphone shut, and it slips from your trembling fingers, bouncing against the sidewalk. You leave it behind. You can't stop. You don't have the time.

Your vision blurs, and you rub at your eyes then check your watch. You've been running for five hours since your last break -- you've alloted yourself so much time to rest every few hours or so. Ten minutes is the most you can spare. Otherwise you start to feel cold and sluggish.

You stop at a busy street corner, leaning against a streetlight pole. Your entire body shudders with every breath, and people are staring at you as they walk by. One person stops, asks if you're okay. You only nod and wave them on.

Your legs are on the verge of collapsing out from under you, so you carefully lower yourself to the concrete, back braced against the pole as you close your eyes. You think it's only for a moment, but when your eyelids fly up, you can barely move, barely breathe.

You lift your arm, and it feels like Jell-O attached to ten-ton weights. Your watch tells you it's been almost twenty minutes. You'd curse if you had the energy.

Somewhere beyond your impaired hearing, the blast of a car horn sounds. It seems to take hours to turn your head, but when you do, you find the Janitor's van parked beside you, Perry and Dan jumping from its dark interior and bounding toward you. You try to stand, but your body is shaking so badly you can't get a grip on anything. You fall on your side, scraping your cheek, and claw at the sidewalk. You think a couple of fingernails break off, but you couldn't really care less at the moment. Any pain is good pain. Then two pairs of hands grab ahold of you and carry you to the van.

The door slides shut, and you're sprawled in someone's lap, another person leaning over you as the van jerks to a start.

"JD?" Perry asks, snapping his fingers in your face, and you furrow your brows, pushing his hand away. Dan's fingers snake through your hair gently, and he massages your scalp.

"You're going to be fine, Johnny. Just you hang in there."

You nod, your eyes closing on their own. Someone shakes you, and it hurts.

"You've got to stay awake, little brother," Dan pleads into your ear.

"Newbie, where's the epinephrine you took from the hospital?" Perry demands, and you lazily reach into the pocket of your hoodie, extracting three syringes. The older man winces. "You took all the other ones?" You nod. He sighs, taking them and opening one. "All right, kid, this is going to hurt like hell, but . . ." He pulls down the collar of your shirt, gawking at the bruised, needle-marked area. "Jesus."

"Oh, Johnny," Dan breathes sadly, tightening his hold on you. You look up at Perry through half-lidded eyes. He looks hesitant, but you grab his wrist and tug with the little strength you have left. You cry out as the needle enters the bruised skin, but Perry immediately depresses the plunger, and the feeling fades as you become more alert.

Your eyes widen, and you swallow again and again. Your legs kick out restlessly as you gulp the air around you almost desperately.

"Newbie?" Perry questions worriedly, grabbing your arms as you start to jerk uncontrollably.

"Coxie, what's wrong? What's going on? Why's he doing that?" Your back arcs, and your brother grasps you as tightly as he can, holding you to his chest.

"JD, calm down. You have to-" You just barely miss kicking your mentor in the face, and he dives to the left, grabbing your legs as they settle back onto the floor of the van. He looks at you with pleading eyes, and tears come to your own, spilling down your cheeks.

"JD, please," the older man whispers, and you reach out, fisting his thin T-Shirt and pulling him towards you until your noses are barely an inch apart. You swallow hard, tasting blood in the back of your throat. You move, and so does he, your lips meeting halfway.

Everything stops, and for a few precious moments, you are the only two in the world. Then reality comes crashing back down on you both, and you pull away, breathing heavily but considerably calmer than you were before.

"Better?" Perry asks breathlessly, and a smile spreads your lips impossibly thin.