Emily came in the room holding a tray as Steve slowly pushed himself up on the bed, leaning back against the wood framed headboard. He saw the tray and went to get up to help her when she quickly declined.

"Stay put," she smiled, setting the tray down on the mattress next to him.

He was glad he didn't have to help because over the last twelve hours since what he was now referring to as his 'awakening' he had less energy than he did after some of his thirty-six hour BUD/S training exercises.

Emily opened up a folding chair that Mark had brought in earlier and sat down in it next to Steve's bed. Her jet-black hair was up in the signature bun behind her head with a pink hibiscus flower tucked into it. He noticed just then that she'd worn one everyday since he'd been there, same flower but a different color. She also wore the signature nurse attire of blue smock pants and a Hawaiian smock top. Her heavyset figure covering most of the chair she sat in.

She had an excellent bedside manner, which made her perfect for this job, but it was her gentle smile and serene voice that Steve was drawn too. She had an instant likeability. He trusted her from the get go and being the type of person he was where trust was something he didn't throw out easily, he was impressed by not only himself but of her as well.

He looked down at the tray as the aroma hit his senses full on, feeling his stomach growl over the need for food.

"I wasn't sure what you liked," Emily said, "but I've never been steered wrong with good ole' fashioned chicken noodle soup, a peanut and butter jelly sandwich and chocolate pudding." She saw him staring at the food thinking maybe he was the first to not like this choice. "If you want something else Steve, please let me know. I can have anything…"

He shook his head. "No, this is ok." He wasn't staring at the food in general; he was staring at the peanut and butter and jelly sandwich, remembering the last time he'd had one. Anna had made it for him the morning after he'd spent the night with her. The hunger in his stomach vanished as the depression took over.

Emily picked up the spoon and dipped it in the chocolate pudding. She put it up to his mouth like he was an infant. "I can do the airplane noise, but I know you're a Navy man, would you prefer the puttering of a motorboat instead?"

Steve couldn't help but smile and chuckle over her playfulness.

She tilted her head looking at him. "I like that smile. You have a beautiful smile, Steve. I want to see more of it," she shook the spoon, "but right now I want to see you eat."

He took the spoon from her hand and put it in his mouth. His taste buds stung at the sweet taste of the chocolate, not having eaten anything for the past twenty-four hours, and what he had eaten always came back up. He was pretty sure the vomiting part was behind him, but even so, he ate slowly and chose the soup over the desert just incase his body didn't want to agree with his head.

Emily took a drink of her Coke as she watched him finish off the soup. "I'm moving you into a better room tomorrow. It has a nice view of the mountains and is in a quieter section of the center away from the other guests that are here."

He looked over at her curiously. "Private? Why am I being secluded?" he thought then maybe he had done something wrong.

Emily leaned forward putting a hand on his knee, seeing the concern over that decision on his face. "It's nothing to do with anything you've done, Steve," she assured him, "it has to do with who you are." She sat back in the chair again. "I had a meeting with my colleagues and we all agreed that considering your status…" she smiled, "how was it you put it to me on your first day," her voice going deep, "Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett."

She smiled as he bent his head, grinning and clearly embarrassed.

"I think I got a little carried away with that title."

"Well, nonetheless it is true and considering some of the clientele that we have here, meaning that some have criminal backgrounds because of the drug use, we thought it might be best to keep your group therapy between just you and me. I don't want you to run into someone that you have arrested and vice versa."

He nodded his understanding, appreciative of that. It had never crossed his mind but would have been extremely awkward if it did happen. "Thank you for that."

"It's for the best. My main concern is for your well-being and to make sure you feel comfortable in your surroundings. I won't ever put you in a situation that I don't think you can handle. Sometimes it may feel that way but sometimes I have to take extra measures to work through a problem rather than step around it."

He felt a wave of fear go through him knowing he was going to have to face some issues that maybe he never had before. He'd only been there for maybe four days, he wasn't even sure, having lost track of time, but knew he had a lot more to go through before he left at the end of his thirty days, not having the same will to leave anymore. He wanted to stay, still frightened of what was waiting for him when he got back. "I have a feeling," he said quietly, "that detox is nothing compared to what lies ahead."

"Like I said, it's nothing that you can't handle. We won't be in a group setting like you probably imagined, it'll just be you and me and perhaps another counselor at times. I'm not here to make things overly difficult on you Steve, but I am here to help you find out why you came to be here."

That fear inside of him kept growing until it became physically visible as he began to tremble. "I know I have a lot of issues that I pretend don't exist," he bent his head, feeling the rumblings in his stomach as the food began to churn, but it wasn't from the detox this time, it was from the fear of having to come to terms with those issues that he never had to before.

He felt her hand on his shoulder. "Everyone has issues Steve. That doesn't make you weak or different than the person standing next to you in line at the grocery store, its just how we deal with those issues that makes you different, when all is said and done, I'm hoping that together we can help you overcome what it is that you're most afraid of."

He didn't know that definitive answer off the top of his head, because at the moment it was everything.

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Emily opened the door to his new room and went in first as he followed behind her. She went straight for the window and opened it up allowing some fresh air in.

The first thing he saw was the amazing view of the Ko'olau Mountain Range outside his window. He found it peaceful and comforting having climbed it many times over the course of his life. It was kind of like having a piece of home in the unfamiliar place he was now at.

His duffel bag that he'd arrived with but hadn't seen since that day was sitting on his bed. He glanced around the room that would be his home for the next twenty-five days. It was better than he had expected. It was larger for one thing, but anything would have been better than the small room he came from. He never wanted to go back in there, or even see that part of the center again. It only held bad memories and a shame that he wasn't sure he would ever forgive himself for. The yellowish beige paint on the walls he was sure was picked for the calm effect. He had to admit, it did the trick. He felt ok there. So far so good, he thought.

Emily walked past him to the bathroom and turned the light on. "There's plenty of hot water. I've never heard anyone complain about running out, so indulge yourself." She knew he'd only showered once since being there, and that was only because he hadn't made it to the bathroom and needed to clean up.

"I don't think I've taken a shower longer than two minutes in the last fifteen years," he said, glancing inside.

Emily looked horrified over that. "Get over that here honey, those showers are custom made with jets that come out from three of the four walls." She smiled. "Live a little."

Steve grinned, "Yes ma'am."

"I'm going to go and let you get settled in and cleaned up. I'll be back in a little while and then I'll take you around and give you a tour of the place."

"Ok."

"How are you feeling, Steve? Are you good with this room? Do you feel comfortable here?"

He was surprised over the question, "Yes, it's fine. It's actually better than what I expected."

Emily smiled, "Good." She motioned with her hand around the room. "There aren't any cameras in this room. This is your own private sanctuary. No one will come in here unless we're invited," she shrugged, "or unless we feel the need to, but you understand right?"

He held his hands up, "I promise I won't give you any trouble."

"That is yet to be seen," she replied jokingly before going out and closing the door behind her.

He stood in the middle of room looking around again at his surroundings. The twin bed looked comfortable as he leaned over pressing his hand on it, feeling a pillow top mattress under the dark blue comforter. There was a small desk and chair by the window, but he noticed then there were no TV and no phone, not sure how he felt at the moment about either one of those. He wasn't a big TV watcher and there was no reason he needed a phone right now. Who would he call anyway?

He sat down on the bed and pulled over his duffel bag not sure what he was going to find inside, considering he hadn't packed it. The clothes he had on were given to him to put on after he'd arrived. The shirt and shorts were from the center. He was glad to be getting out of them and into something of his own.

He unzipped the bag and found his black leather travel bag that held all his personal grooming supplies, unzipping that one as well. Inside was his razor with back up heads, a can of shaving cream, a half full tube of toothpaste and his toothbrush and deodorant. He shuffled through the items wondering if Anna or Danny had packed it when he came across the mirror that he used when he shaved in the shower, knowing now that Anna had packed this. She'd been in that shower with him when he used it. Danny wouldn't have known to pack that. A smile crossed his lips recalling once when she had shaved him while they showered together. She'd done well, only nicking him once, but what he remembered the most was watching her while she did it. He could still remember the concentration on her face as she carefully moved the razor over his cheeks and chin, thinking how beautiful she was and how lucky he was to be standing in the shower with such an incredible woman. It was the first time the word love had entered his mental vocabulary in his relationship with her.

He looked down at the items finding comfort knowing she had been a part of the process of getting him where he was. He took out the mirror, startled over his reflection in it, not having seen himself for days. He set it down and went into the bathroom and stood before the larger mirror staring at the stranger who was looking back at him. His beard was almost full, barely showing any skin from the top of his cheeks down over his neck. But it was his eyes and the narrow line of his face that even with the beard looked sickly. He ran his hand over it just to make sure it was really him, not recognizing himself.

It brought tears to his eyes realizing then what Anna must have gone through watching this transformation. He'd done to her exactly what her father had done. That thought alone weakened him, knowing he'd preyed upon the one thing in her life that she was most afraid of.

The thought of facing her ever again was mortifying. The things he said to her were unforgiveable in his eyes. He cringed at the last words she'd heard spoken from him. How could he possibly ask for forgiveness or even attempt to think he'd be welcomed back after that? He told her he didn't ever want to see her face again. He was sure those words severed the only fragile link that had been holding them together.

He closed his eyes, not able to look at himself anymore knowing what he'd done to her. He hated himself for it; but was sure that it wasn't as much as Anna did. If there was one thing he could count on at the moment, it was that she hated him more.

The sooner he came to terms with that and let go the hope of some kind of reconciliation with her, the better.

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Steve walked down a hallway with Emily as she pointed out places they passed. She stopped at another door and opened it.

"This is the book room," she explained. "As you probably figured out already, there are no TV's in the rooms. We prefer you read or write in your Journal." She pointed toward an area, "I'll give you a notepad and pens to begin with but if you ever need more, there's a supply over there. We have a wide range of books, nothing to complicated or racy or even political, just good old-fashioned novels. You'll find everything from Moby Dick to Daniel Steele's latest romance." She smiled at him. "I see you as a mystery reader more than a romance one, but," she chuckled, "I've been wrong before."

"I like thrillers, although my partner thinks I'm more into war books."

"You mean Danny?"

He was shocked that he knew his name, but then figured he was probably the one that registered him. "Yes, Danny. Have you met him?"

Emily smiled, not wanting to begin a session with him right then and there. "We'll talk about that later."

He tried to judge that answer by the tone of her voice whether it was good or bad, but couldn't come up with a definitive answer. "Ok," he replied, feeling that dread in the pit of his stomach again. He'd already lost Anna; if he lost Danny over his stupidity he wasn't sure what he'd do.

She closed the door and went to the next one that had the word gym on it. She opened it up and Steve was pleasantly surprised over the state of the art workout equipment inside.

"Wow, this is nice." He walked past her inside, going up to treadmill that looked barely used.

"I take it then that you will use this room?"

"Yes, I like to swim in the ocean, but this good too. I swam everyday," he recoiled some, correcting himself, "well, I mean I used to swim everyday, but I kind got out of the habit of it when I…" he paused not wanting to say it, "you know."

"Yes, when you became addicted to the Morphine. You can say it, Steve. It's no secret, to anyone."

He slightly turned his head, seeing her in his peripheral vision. Her forwardness came on strong sometimes, he found it annoying at the moment, ignoring her reply. "Can I use this room whenever I want?"

"Sure."

She closed the door behind her and went into another one but just opened the door showing him. "This is the group room where you and I will meet four days a week to talk. We call it the group room because usually there is a group session in here."

He remained in the hallway and just glanced inside, already afraid of that room. He turned and looked down the corridor as if ignoring the place all together. "Can I go outside at all?"

Emily closed the door, knowing it was making him uncomfortable. She was going to start his first session the next day but decided to bump it up to that afternoon right after lunch instead. She didn't like the idea that he was already falling back into denial. "Of course you can go outside."

They continued down the hallway passing another patient and counselor.

"Hi Emily," the counselor said stopping before them. He turned to the older woman standing next to him. "This is Barb. She arrived a week ago."

"Congratulations, Barb," Emily replied, "Welcome. This is Steve. He's been with us five days now."

He smiled but was shocked at the other patient's age that he guessed to be around seventy but was even more surprised at the casual introduction as if they were at a cocktail party or something. After they moved on he turned to Emily. "Was she here for addiction?"

Emily shrugged, "You're never too old to start over."

"I thought I wasn't going to be around other people because I'm a cop."

"I said I didn't want you in group therapy because you're a cop but I can't keep you sequestered, besides," she smiled looking at his beard that he hadn't shaved off, "I don't think anyone will recognize you. I thought for sure you would shave it off."

He reached up, touching his face. "I've never had one before. I figured since I'm this far, what the heck." He told her that story, but the truth was he felt safe behind the beard, afraid to shave it off and see the monster he felt he'd become.

They continued down until they went through the two double glass doors that led out to the grounds. The path that began just outside the door led through a garden that was filled with a variety of flowers and trees making it a very serene place. There were benches and several picnic tables that were scattered all around. Some occupied and some not. In the distance he could see the ocean, and in the opposite direction was the majestic Ko'olau Mountain Range once again. He liked this space. It kind of reminded him of his own backyard.

"There is no curfew here," Emily explained, "and the doors are never locked. We have a tight security system and people walking the grounds at night who are very familiar with who the guests are, so if you decide you want some fresh air at night, feel free to come out and take a breather. No one will bother you. The only thing we ask is that you don't leave the campus grounds."

He agreed to her request and took one last look before they ventured back inside.

She took him to the kitchen next. "In here is just about anything you could ask for in the food department. If you have a special request or need, the chefs will do their best to accommodate you, to a degree you understand."

"I'm not really a picky eater," Steve said.

"Then they'll love you," Emily replied. "Breakfast is from six to ten. Lunch is eleven to two and dinner is four thirty to six thirty, but the kitchen is always open and a chef is on duty twenty-four hours a day. You just tell him what you want from the list available and he'll make it on the spot."

"Twenty four hour room service?" Steve chuckled. "This is more like a resort."

"We want you to feel comfortable here. This isn't a resort. I'm not going to sugar coat it for you Steve, you're going to have some of the most challenging and stressful moments of your life while you're here," she put a hand on his bicep, "but you will also have some of the most rewarding."

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They had breakfast and Emily walked him back to his room.

She handed him a notebook that she had picked up on the way back as they passed the book room, handing it to him as they stood in the doorway. "Here, you're first assignment is to write something in your Journal."

He took the paper and variety of pens and pencils that had a rubber band around them from her. "Write about what?"

"That's up to you. It can be anything you want, just write whatever you feel inside at the moment."

"You mean like a letter?" he asked confused not sure what she was asking.

Emily shrugged, "If that's what you want. It's only for you. You can share what you write if you want, but you don't have to. It's only for you." She turned and started walking down the hall toward her other office that she used now that he had moved rooms. "After lunch, meet me in the group room. Two o'clock."

He watched her walk away, still a little confused about the Journal, but went inside his room and closed the door. He sat down on the bed rather than choosing the small desk by the window.

He flipped open the cover of the notebook all the way over until just the first page was visible. He then began to slide the rubber band off the pencils when it broke. A piece of it snapped back, hitting him in the hand leaving a small welt.

"Ouch, damn it!" he said dropping half of the writing utensils on the floor.

He looked down at the red mark when all at once he felt the craving for a pill. He wanted that satisfying stimulation that eased the pain; even though this was so minuscule it wasn't even considered painful, yet his body reacted to it as it had been programmed too, pain equals Morphine.

He felt the panic in him climbing, knowing there was no relief for the craving that was taking over his body. The dread feelings of detox came flooding back, using that as the crutch not ever wanting to go back to that place again.

"Find something," he said out loud, pacing the room back and forth, not sure what he was looking for but needed something to take away from what was pulling him down. He knew he could leave at anytime and also knew that if he did, that he could feel the instant relief and high his body was aching for in probably less than an hour. He still had his stash in the spice cupboard of his house that no one knew about. He could make it home in an hour, probably less.

He stopped pacing; realizing his train of thought had drifted to the worst-case scenario, "Stop! You can't leave. You can't go back, this is it, right here. This is the place. You're here for a reason. You're here for a reason," he said over and over, still fighting the craving that was now causing him to sweat which only intensified his paranoia that those thoughts could overcome him at any second and he'd be powerless to fight them, thinking of the bottle sitting in the cupboard at home.

He grabbed the notebook off the bed and sat down, picking up a pen from the floor and started scribbling out words on the page. He frantically wrote the first words that popped into his head.

Jenny, Eric, Anna, Danny, Chin, Kono, Mary, work, freedom, health, Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna, An… regret, loss, fear, hurt, anger, liar, liar, liar…

He pounded his fist on the notebook hating who he'd become to her. In his eyes he'd turned into exactly what he had worked so hard to get off the streets everyday. He was one of them now. His hand began to write again.

humiliating, degrading, liar, cheater, hated, hated, hated

He flung the notebook across the room like a Frisbee as it slammed into the wall across the way. He stood up and began to pace the room again. "You piece of shit!" he growled angrily. "You ruined it for everyone! You don't deserve her! You don't deserve anyone! Look at you! Look at where you're at! Look what you've become you fucking coward!" he yelled angrily, clenching his hands into fists, wanting to hit something.

He stormed into the bathroom and faced himself in the mirror, "You're nothing but a fucking coward. You let it beat you! You let it take control!" He slammed his fist into the reflection, cracking the glass.

"You're such a pussy, hiding out like a fucking coward!" he blasted himself as he took his black leather bag and dumped it over on the counter, shaking out the items that were inside. They spilled out one by one as he grabbed the can of shaving cream before it rolled off onto the floor. He sprayed a hefty amount into his hand and abruptly rubbed it over his beard and then reached for the razor.

He started at the top of his cheekbone and sliced through the dark course hair over and over until it was smooth, rinsing the blade under the cool water and repeating until there wasn't a speck of beard left on his face.

He stood looking at the results as several small nicks shown bright red, catching one with the back of his hand that began to trickle down his chin. He forced himself to stand there and look at the person he'd become. Through the haze and anger that had subsided he saw himself.

He wasn't a monster and he wasn't a coward. He'd made mistakes and lost his way, but he'd made it through detox and made it through his first craving, still struggling with it but feeling more in control than a few minutes before. He was a fighter and a soldier at heart and always would be, focusing on that side of who he was, rather than the negative that would only lead to failure. There was no room for failure on this mission. It was do or die.

"Forward march," he said to his reflection, chuckling to a certain degree.

He went back in the room and picked up the notepad writing one last entry for the day.

Dear Morphine,

FUCK YOU!

A wry smile appeared on his lips as he closed the cover and tossed the notebook on the bed.

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Emily sat on a cushioned fold up chair in the group room, making an outline on her notepad for she and Steve's first session together as he came in through the slightly ajar door.

"Hi." She glanced up for just a second and then went to focus on her notepad again when she noticed his clean-shaven face, looking back up at him with a smile. "Wow! Look at you. A new man." She scanned the rest of him as he chose a pair of black basketball shorts and a plain dark blue T-shirt with blue and white Nikes.

He rubbed his hand over his chin, "Yea, I was already sick of it," he lied, but didn't want to tell her about the incident he'd gone through, still slightly reeling over it.

"Have a seat." She motioned toward an identical chair to hers that was a couple of feet away but directly across from her.

He saw the notepad in her hand and pointed over his shoulder to his room, "I didn't bring that notebook, should I have? I can run and get it."

"You don't have to bring it, not unless you want to share something you've written in it?"

He shook his head as he sat down. "No."

She left it at that, not asking whether he had followed her request to write something down. The journal was his business unless he chose to include her in it. She picked up her can of Coke that was sitting on the floor next to her and took a drink. "Do you want something to drink before we start? I can get you a Coke or water or something?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine thanks." He looked past her and around the room trying to get a feel for it. There was only a table along one wall and no windows, but it didn't feel stuffy at all, maybe because of the size of it. He remembered her telling him that groups met here, but with only the two of them it was defiantly large for what they were using it for. He felt ok so far, still feeling a little unnerved from his earlier ordeal but glad that he had that first one under control, at least at the moment.

Emily allowed him a minute to get comfortable in his surroundings before she began. It was important to her that he feel relaxed, knowing that it will help the conversation flow better if his guard was down.

"I only have one rule in here Steve, and that rule is honesty. I don't mean just towards me, I mean towards yourself, but it works both ways, because if you aren't honest with yourself then you aren't being honest with me, ok?"

He nodded, "Ok."

She saw him fidget in his chair. "Is there anything you want to say before we start?"

He thought about that for a second wondering if he was supposed to say something. "How long do these last, these sessions?" After he said it he regretted it, not wanting her to think he was anxious to get out already, even though he was. But he didn't want to be difficult for her either. "I mean I'm just curious."

"It's a good question," Emily responded. "There is no time limit. They can last ten minutes or they can last four hours, it all depends on the situation."

"Who is allowed to end it, me or you?" he asked.

"Only me. We can take breaks if you want, but I don't want you running out the door to try and escape from where a conversation is headed, so I may deny a break to you."

He nodded his understanding again, trusting her judgment that she'd lead him slowly into his treatment, until she asked her first question.

She crossed her hands on her lap, looking directly across at him. "Tell me about your family?"

He let out a laugh, not able to control it. She had no idea how loaded that question was. He looked across at her but she remained unaffected by his outburst, which in turn settled him quickly. "My family?" he questioned, "Which one? My work family or my family, family?" Letting her know right away how important others in his life were to him.

"Your family, family."

He huffed, deciding that he'd give her the quick low down; otherwise they could be there for hours.

"Not much to tell except that my Mom worked for the CIA as an undercover informant and faked her own death when I was fifteen. My Dad spent all of his time searching for her killer after he found out her death wasn't an accident. He eventually sent my little sister Mary and I to live in California with relatives that I barely knew. I did what I could to hang on until I graduated from high school and was old enough to join the Navy. My mom showed up a couple of years ago claiming she was sorry. She stuck around for, I don't know, as long as she felt the need, and then disappeared again. I don't know where she's at, and my Dad was killed by the men that were looking for her."

He sighed, looking straight at her as if what he had just said was as normal as the Brady Bunch story.

But the thing that shocked him was that it didn't shock her.

"What makes you happy, Steve?"

He shrugged, wondering if he'd gone too far in his analogy of his family and that's why she was changing the subject. "Work, watching football, I don't know. Lot's of stuff I guess."

"Those are things that you do to make other people happy, or things that other people do in their life to make you happy, but what is one thing that you do for yourself that makes you happy, something that you're passionate about."

A hobby is what she was looking for he decided. "I work on my Dad's car when I get a chance. I like doing that."

"What kind of car did he have?"

"It's an old 74 Mercury Marquis, jet-black with matching leather interior. I remember when were kids, Mary and I could stretch out in the backseat on either end."

Emily smiled seeing a light come on in his eyes over just the memory of that. "What do you think about while you're working on the car?"

"Different stuff, whatever I'm trying to repair at the moment.

"Do you think about your dad?"

"Yes."

"You said he sent you away when you were fifteen that must have been difficult."

"I think it really messed up Mary. She was never really the same after that."

"It messed up Mary?" Emily questioned. "What about Steve?"

"I was older."

"Fifteen is older?"

No one had ever asked him that question before, how he felt about being sent away. It was done and that was that. "I managed. I think I over came it pretty well."

"When you think about your Dad while you're working on the car, what kind of things do you think about?"

"I don't know, conversations, fishing trips."

"Do you ever think about why he sent you away?"

"I know why."

"I know you have the reason in your head, but I mean do you ever feel angry that he sent you away?"

"He did what he had to do," he defended.

"You said that it messed up Mary. How so?"

He took in a long deep breath and let it out slowly. "She was a very playful and happy kid before that," he smiled over the memories. "She used to drive me crazy on purpose."

"What changes did you notice in her after you went to California?"

"She clung to me. I don't mean like physically hung on me but she wanted to be where I was all the time. I think she was afraid we'd get separated." He hated how it changed Mary. The transformation was hard to watch he remembered.

"How did that make you feel about your Dad?"

The words came out before he even had a chance to assess it, "Angry. Resentful."

"Did you ever talk to your Dad about that?"

"No. I didn't see him again before I went in the Navy, but he had his reasons for what he did."

"So these conversations you think about while you're working on the car, did you ever actually have any of those conversations with him, or just with yourself?"

She managed to see right through his testimony, calling him out on it. The conversations were made up in his head. They were what he hoped they would have talked about if given the opportunity. "No," he said sadly.

"And the fishing trips?"

He shook his head. "We always talked about going and he promised to take me, but we never did. But I do think about things I wish we had said. I'm not lying."

"I believe you," Emily said wholeheartedly. "I also believe that whether you want to think it or not, that you were hurt just as much as Mary. And I bet you liked having her close too when you were in California, didn't you?"

He didn't answer her directly but nodded, because it was true, that first year was the hardest. He couldn't stand the thought of being separated from her either.

"Where is Mary now?"
Steve smiled, "I don't know. I don't mean that I don't know because we never talk, I mean that because she moves a lot. One minute she's in California and the next she could be in New York, or Utah or Texas," he chuckled. "She's what you call a free-spirit."

"Has she ever been in trouble?"

Steve rolled his eyes, "Yes, but nothing really bad. She's never been in jail. Just minor stuff."

"And who does she call when she's in trouble?'

Steve smiled, "Me."

"I thought so, " Emily grinned. "And I bet you go running. As a matter of fact I bet a lot of people turn to you for help. Am I right?"

"Well yea," he agreed, "I'm a police officer."

"I mean the people in your life."

"Yes," he said proudly, "they do. There's nothing wrong with that," he defended. "I like it that they know they can come to me when they're in trouble."

"You're right Steve. You're absolutely right. You should feel proud knowing that. It's a very, very good thing." She leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees. "Let me ask you one question though. Who do you go to when you're in trouble? Who do you ask for help from when you need it?"

He thought of the first person that came to his mind. "Danny."

"Hmmm," Emily sighed, sitting back in her chair looking over at him with a questionable expression. "I don't think you ever actually ask Danny for help. I think Danny sees you struggling and then he jumps in and helps, but I don't think you ever come out and ask for it, do you? I don't think you ever ask anyone for help."

"Why should I if I don't need it?" he defended himself. "I've always been able to handle stuff on my own."

"Like your addiction?"

"I didn't know I had a problem," he said dryly, "that's why I'm here."

"What about when you get out?"

"What about it?"

"You're withdrawals and cravings aren't going to go away anytime soon. I'm sure you think about that high and how it used to feel all the time. There'll be times when you're going to have to ask for help because it will be overwhelming."

Steve sat up straight in the chair. "I just talked myself down from one a little while ago. I was even on the verge of leaving, but I didn't. I talked myself through it and," he motioned to the room, feeling confident over it, "here I am. I feel fine."

"Congratulations. I guess my work here is done."

He sighed his annoyance over that comment, "I'm just saying, I was trained in the Navy to work through problems. I know how to overcome situations that maybe most people can't. I won't cave. I'll be alright by myself."

Emily reached in her pocket and took out a familiar blue pill and set it on the table next to her.

He stared at it, instantly feeling his mouth begin to water and his senses explode over being this close to one. He looked back at her, angry that she would tempt him like this. "What are you doing? Why are you doing this?"

"Do you want it?" she motioned with her head to the pill. "Take it."

He looked in the opposite direction of both, "This is completely unorthodox. I can't believe you would set me up like this!"

"Do you want it?"

"Of course I want it!" he yelled, "Why the fuck do you think I'm here?"

"Then take it."

He looked to see if she were serious, feeling a jolt of excitement over being given permission. He looked over at it again and then at her, his mind reeling over the possibility when it suddenly dawned on him that she was just testing his last testimony.

He crossed his arms stubbornly, glaring at her. "No. I don't want it."

"Good for you," Emily smiled. "That's good, Steve. Really good." She stood up, "You know what. I forgot to use the bathroom before we came in here. I'm going to run to the restroom really quick. Be right back."

Steve watched her walk towards the door and quickly glanced over at the pill sitting on the table that she left behind. He could feel his hands begin to tremble wanting to reach for it, looking over at her as she neared the exit. It was right there. He didn't even need water to get it down; all he had to do was just swallow it. She was almost to the door when he began to panic not wanting to be alone with it.

"Wait!" he said, "Don't go!" He got up and backed away from the table as if it held some kind of toxic airborne substance that might hurt him. "Take it with you." He saw that she had the door open when he began to plead with her. "Please Emily, take it with you."

Emily turned around and walked back over to the table and picked it up, putting it back in her pocket. She went back over to the door. "It's not so easy surviving on your own is it? See what asking for help can resolve? There's no need to feel that you have to do this alone. You're not alone, Steve, not here and not out there. The sooner you rely on others for your recovery both here and at home, the better the chances are you won't ever be back."

She opened the door. "End of session today. You're free to do whatever you want." She was releasing him from the room but she also knew the session didn't end there. They had covered a lot in the few minutes they were together. She was more than pleased at the outcome and also knowing that even though he had consent to do as he pleased, the therapy would continue as he contemplated what went on.

He watched her walk out and leave the door open behind her. He leaned back against the wall he had run into trying to get away from the temptation, partly angry that she'd proved him wrong and partly amused over her risky tactics. She was good at calling his bluff. He grinned over her arrogant behavior. "I don't like her," he mumbled jokingly, looking back over in the place she'd been standing. It had only been his first session and she had already brought up issues he'd never had to deal with before, not knowing it was going to happen so fast or so abruptly.

His eyes scanned the room having a premonition that this was nothing compared to what lay ahead. The slight grin slowly disappeared from his face as he thought of the one subject that he was most frightened of. He knew Emily would call him on it and there was no way of getting around it. Jenny's name was going to be brought up, which would lead to the others.

He looked at the place where the pill had been sitting; wishing he had it now because just thinking about her triggered the one thing in his brain that brought on the craving…it was pain. He missed she and Eric, and mostly Anna. The more coherent he became back into his life the more he missed all of them. He promised Jenny he'd be back and he would be. She was his inspiration to walk up the steps into this place. He focused on the image of her that had stolen his heart that first day she knocked on his door, looking up at him so sweet and innocent. She claimed them as friends from the beginning and she never once faltered in that duty. She still loved him regardless.

He was shocked at the peaceful feeling that overcame him. It was more powerful than the drug that was trying to lure him into temptation.

Emily was right, he thought amusingly, he did need others for help, not realizing just how much until that sweet little girl rescued him once again from his despair.