AN: Just a warning that the first part of this chapter deals pretty heavily with anxiety. A lot of it is probably irrational and illogical, but damn it seems real and totally plausible when you're in the middle of it.

Time was a funny thing when you were wound up this tight. Days felt like an eternity, the nights even longer, yet a week seemed to fall off the calendar with no memory of where it had gone.

Colby was struggling. He'd been doing okay, felt like he was getting on top of things, but he was suddenly full of doubt and second guessing himself at work. Occasionally he found silly mistakes in his paperwork, things he could fix without anyone noticing, but it scared him, because on the surface, he thought he had it under control. Mistakes were forgivable in the office, but in the field they might not be. And what if he fainted again?

Sometimes his throat felt swollen, and he thought he couldn't breathe properly. He had to keep telling himself it was all in his head, there was nothing physically wrong with him, he'd be dead a hundred times over by now if his throat actually was closed up. It made eating even more of a chore, he kept thinking he was going to choke, every mouthful was like walking a tightrope between rationality and insanity.

He told Rena about it. She said it was an anxiety lump. He knew it was a manifestation of guilt. He was scared it was going to stay there for the rest of his life, it was all he could think about sometimes. It was kind of like that tight feeling just before you cried, except he couldn't make himself cry, and it just wouldn't go away.

He needed to talk to Dean, but he was terrified to ask. He found himself watching TV at two in the morning, anything to pass the time till the sun came up, reruns of shows he really liked, familiar comforts to soothe him. He knew how these stories ended, and that these people wouldn't let him down, or maybe it was that he couldn't let them down.

He had to keep telling himself it was a rough patch, it would pass. It didn't feel like that though.

One foot in front of the other, just focus on the next step, and whatever you do, don't let anyone see just how fucked up you really are. They think you're getting better, they won't understand, you don't want to disappoint them, do you?

He didn't wanna be like this, it wasn't him. He felt like his anxiety was a separate entity to himself, it wasn't hard to get why people used to believe in possession, the way it managed to twist you, to pray on your insecurities, to change the rules just when you got the latest fear under control. It was a battle, a fight to reclaim the person you knew you could be.

He found himself falling back into old thought patterns, justifying every bad decision by claiming it was for Bella. But then his thoughts would cycle back around to Dean, to the plans they'd had, the promises he had broken, and the panic gripped him again. How could he do what he'd done? It was so terrible, so utterly thoughtless, he was the worst kind of person. He didn't deserve forgiveness, but he did deserve every second of this hell he was going through. Didn't he?

He thought about asking Rena for something to take the edge off. But he'd have to declare it. Then there'd be questions. Was there a register somewhere? A list of all the people who'd given in and taken crazy pills? Would the bank give you a home loan if you were on that list? Maybe they'd think you were too unreliable to make the repayments.

And what if someone noticed he was falling apart? What if he lost his job? What if he couldn't pay rent? He didn't wanna be a burden on anyone.

God, why couldn't he switch off? He just wanted it all to stop. For a brief moment his mind flashed to his sidearm. That would be so quick and easy. But he'd be leaving Dean behind again. He banished the dangerous thought.

But he needed something, and the easiest drug to get was already on hand. He went to the kitchen, twisted the top off some whiskey and drank it straight from the bottle.

xxx

Dean planned on hitting the waves early. Usually the beach was empty at this time of day, but when he headed down he saw a familiar figure sitting in the sand. He headed over.

"What's up?" he asked Colby.

Colby aimed a not-so-subtle look at his crotch.

"Not what I'd like to be..."

Okay, that was... unexpected. Dean wasn't exactly sure where to go from there.

"Relax," Colby said, drawing the word out. "I'm not gonna jump your bones. Been there, done that. Fucked us both up, right?"

There was something wrong with this picture.

"Are you drunk?"

"No," Colby giggled.

"It's 6:30 in the morning."

"Or maybe it's 6:30 in the night, like if you haven't been to bed..."

"You've been here all night?"

Colby shrugged. That was when Dean noticed the empty Johnny Walker bottle that had been tossed across sand.

"What is that?"

Colby looked over at the bottle, then back up at Dean.

"You said the beach was too clean."

"Mate, this isn't a good look."

"I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks."

Dean gave him an unimpressed look.

"You need to go to bed."

"What? No..." Colby dismissed.

He was plastered. Dean gave up on the idea of surfing.

"Seriously mate, come on," he said, helping Colby up. "You're lucky it's Saturday."

"What? You think crooks take the weekend off?"

"Just shut up and come on."

"No," Colby said, taking a drunken stand. "What is it you think I do at work?"

"I never really thought about it," Dean lied.

"Police work is important."

"I'm sure it is," Dean allowed. "Which means you need to get some sleep."

"Fine," Colby agreed sarcastically, holding his arm out so Dean could prop him up. He dumped his board and did like Colby expected.

It wasn't too far back to Colby's flat. Getting up the stairs was interesting, but they finally made it inside.

Dean led Colby to his bedroom.

"There's the bed. Use it."

"Is that an invitation?" Colby grinned.

"No." Drunk sex was the worst, especially if you were sober.

"Go on," Dean said, encouraging Colby to get some rest.

"But couldn't you stay too?" Colby insisted. He didn't want what Colby was implying, but he was worried.

"Lay down."

Colby gave him a drunken smile and hopped onto the bed, patting the spot beside him. This was a bad idea, but Dean carried on anyway. There wasn't much point in turning sensible now. He sat down where Colby wanted him too.

"I thought you said we have to lay down."

Dean rolled his eyes and put his head on the pillow. Colby snuggled in behind him. This wouldn't take long, Colby would crash soon, then he could leave him to it.

But Colby was pulling the neck of Dean's t-shirt down, instead of trying to sleep.

"Hey, we have matching tattoos..."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. Then he felt Colby's lips against his skin.

"I love you. So much."

"Yep. I got that already. Now go to sleep."

Colby wrapped an arm around him and nestled in close.

"How good would it be if we could do this all the time?"

"What? Get shit-faced down at the beach till dawn? We used to do that."

"No, I mean fall asleep together."

They used to do that too.

"Well you better stop talking if you think that's gonna happen."

"When did you get so boring?"

"Charming..."

"I still love you though," Colby assured, adjusting himself so they were pressed as tightly together as they could be.

He waited until Colby was snoring softly, then he nipped back down to the beach to grab his board. The waves looked good, but he turned his back on them, and headed back to Colby's place.

Colby was still asleep when he poked his head in the bedroom door. Dean was willing to bet it had been a while since he'd got any of that.

He decided to settle in on the couch for the day. He didn't have anywhere else to be and he suspected Colby was gonna be a bit of a mess when he woke up. And thanks to his criminal activities, Dean wasn't too bad at cleaning those up these days.

xxx

Colby reached for his phone, he felt rotten. 2:12. AM? But the sun was shining. He sat up. Bad idea, his head was pounding. He didn't remember how he'd ended up here like this.

He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, he needed a shower, and some paracetamol.

He got up, waiting till his head settled, then headed out to the kitchen.

Dean was on the couch. Now he really wished he could remember details.

"Hey..."

Dean turned to him, a pitying smile forming on his face.

"Oh mate, you look like crap."

"I feel it," he said, downing a couple of pills. "What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you don't disgrace yourself."

That didn't sound good.

"Oh man... What did I do?"

Dean got up and came over, leaning on the kitchen bench across from him.

"Nothing too bad. Just boozed it up on the beach till dawn."

"How'd I get back here?"

"Well I couldn't leave you there..."

That was true friendship.

"Thanks mate."

They looked at each other, something unspoken passing between them, but Colby couldn't take too much more of that pitying look.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"What do you want to eat? I'll run downstairs and grab something."

"I dunno," Colby shrugged. "Something greasy."

They hoed into a couple of bacon and egg rolls. At least it was good to see Colby eating.

Dean was trying to decide if he should say anything about all this.

"What?" Colby said.

"Nothing," Dean answered.

"You've got that look."

"I don't have a look."

"There's something on your mind."

"Fine," Dean relented. "How long have you been drinking like this?"

Colby tensed. That was the last thing Dean wanted. Maybe he should drop it, it wasn't really any of his business anyway.

"It's not a problem," Colby stated.

"Never said it was."

"I just needed a break."

"From what?"

Colby gave him a pained look, Dean had a feeling the answer might be him. He hated what they were doing to each other.

His mind flashed back to something else that had happened right here. Walking in, finding Colby dead on the floor, doing CPR on him till the ambulance arrived. That had been scary as hell. And he'd had his own brush with death not so long ago, it seemed stupid to keep making themselves, and each other, miserable. But even near-death experiences didn't really change anything. Nothing seemed to.

"The endless shit that goes on in here," Colby said, poking a finger at his temple.

"About me?" The words were out before Dean could stop them.

Colby's shoulders sagged.

"This isn't your fault. I've only got myself to blame, right?"

Colby was throwing his words back at him. Dean wasn't angry though, he was worried more than anything.

"How do we fix this?"

Colby gave him a surprised look.

"Do you honestly want to?"

"We can't keep going on like this."

Something was on the tip of Colby's tongue but he seemed reluctant to say it.

"What?" Dean pressed. "Tell me."

Colby looked up, determination in his eyes.

"Come to counselling with me."

"What? You want me to see a shrink?" There were things in his head he never wanted to look at again, let alone allow anyone else to see.

"I want us to. Together. Rena's great. And I promise if you get uncomfortable, you can leave."

Promises from Colby weren't worth much, and Dean didn't want some stranger picking their problems to pieces, they had a tough enough time dealing with them on their own.

He thought of being on the stand in court, of stuffy, over-privileged, university-educated people asking him questions they couldn't possibly really understand the implications of, or answers to.

"She knows. About the accident. I had to tell her."

"What?" That was their secret. One Dean had suffered long and hard to keep.

"She won't tell anyone."

"That wasn't only your secret to tell."

Dean got up. Why did he keep falling back into this? Keep thinking Colby would change? That Colby would ever consider him?

"Dean, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You never do. But that doesn't stop it from happening."

"Forget I asked," Colby pleaded, trying to save a situation that was already too far gone. That shrink wasn't gonna forget what she knew.

"Dean, c'mon. Don't go."

He wondered if those words would have been all it took to stop Colby running off after the accident. Well, one thing he did know was that they weren't gonna work now.

AN: Got shit-faced on Greenall's to 'research' and write the second part of this chapter. Always wanted to try fic writing when pissed. How'd I do?