Ink smeared across Ada's face as she jumped at the sudden sound. She leapt towards the door, brandishing her marker in front of her as she stared outside.

Spencer was doubled over, his back to the door as he retched and vomited onto the patio. Ada stared in horror for a moment before dropping the marker and sliding open the door.

"What's wrong?" She grabbed his shoulder as he clutched at his stomach. He took a deep breath and shakily got to his feet. One hand stayed firmly over his stomach while the other scratched at his arm. He looked up, and his eyes were wild. His lips moved wordlessly. Ada wrapped her arm around his shoulders and led him inside. She dashed to the kitchen for a glass of water and a bowl.

"Rinse and spit," she instructed, holding the glass to his mouth. The arm clutching his stomach slowly moved up to take the cup. He spat two mouthfuls into the bowl, then took a long gulp before collapsing into the couch. He never stopped scratching.

"Spencer, what's wrong?" Ada set the glass and bowl on the table and watched as he began to twitch and shake.

"He died." Spencer's words came out in huffs and grunts, as if he had just run a marathon. He reached for his bag. His hand was twitching so badly he could barely get it open. He pulled out a vial and a syringe. "I can't- I need it," he pleaded.

"You're in withdrawal, aren't you?"

Spencer nodded, his head jerking with the tremors running through his body. He pulled the band from a side pocket of his bag and struggled to tie it around his arm.

'It hurts. It all hurts. I need it." His leg spasmed as he tried to fit the needle to the vial and he dropped both. The needle fell to the floor and bounced under a chair. The vial landed on the couch. He scooped it up with jerky motions and fished out another needle. It fell, following the path of the first, as he clutched at his stomach again.

"Spencer, I-"

"Please." He stared into her eyes with an intensity she had never seen before. "Please, help me." He held the bottle out.

"No, I can't do that." Ada's voice was soft as she pushed his hand away. "I can give you a safe place, Spencer, but I can't help you. Not with that."

"Please." He was begging now. "I need it. It hurts so much."

"I can't. I can- I can call an ambulance. Or Gideon, I can call him. But I can't help you drug yourself. I can't."

Tears were dripping down Spencer's face as it contorted with pain. A cry escaped his lips. "They can't know. Please." He locked eyes with her. "Please. Help me." He held the bottle out.

Ada looked into his eyes as he shook and took a deep breath. "I don't know how much."

Spencer dropped the vial onto his lap and fished a third needle out of his bag. He shakily pointed to a spot about a third of the way up. "There."

Ada took the needle from him, her own hands shaking with the weight of what she was about to do. She picked up the vial and turned it over in her hand as she sat beside him. "Is that a high dose or a low one?" She stared into his eyes. "Don't lie to me."

He squirmed in his seat. "High."

"What's a low dose?" She held the needle up and he pointed to a spot just over half of what he had indicated before. She took a deep breath. "Okay. But that's all I can do." He nodded.

Ada pulled his arm over her lap. She pushed his sleeve up higher and pulled the band tighter. She gazed at the mess of bruises and small red marks dotting the inside of his elbow. Her hands shook almost as much as his as she drew back the plunger of the needle, filling it with the pale yellow fluid. She looked back down at his arm and bit her lip. "I don't know-" she looked up at his face. "I don't know how to do this."

Spencer reached out his other hand and she placed the needle in it. He closed his fist around it. Ada placed her hand over his, holding it steady. His eyes roamed across his puckered and damaged skin. His hand shook as he chose a spot and moved towards it. Ada held on tight, concern written across her face. Spencer plunged the needle down. His hand twitched as it made contact. He pressed the plunger. He dropped the needle and loosened the band. He sank into the couch as blood oozed from his arm, his twitches quelled. Ada cried.

It was only a few minutes before Spencer's eyes burst open. He inhaled sharply, then saw the blood. He looked up and took in Ada, the needle clasped in her hand as tears dripped down her face. He shrank into the corner of the couch.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Then louder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Ada." He hastily rolled his sleeve down, coating it in blood.

"Spencer, I-"

"I should never have- I'm sorry. I have to go." He grabbed his bag and stuffed the vial into it. He backed towards the door, his eyes fixed on the needle still clutched in her hand. She dropped it and stood to follow him.

"Spencer, don't-"

He slid the door open and finally turned away from her. He sprinted across the patio, not stopping even when he stepped in the puddle of vomit he had left there earlier. He burst through the gate and disappeared down the street before Ada could stop him.

The needle was still on the table. Ada shoved it into the sharps bin. She got on her knees and fished out the two on the floor. They joined the others in the bin. The bowl and cup were still on the table. She put them in the sink. There was blood on the couch. She left it. She picked up the dropped marker. She washed off the patio. She paced up and down the living room.

It took her less than three minutes to realize that, other than waiting outside his apartment building, she had absolutely no way to contact Spencer. She picked up the phone and turned it over and over in her hands as she paced, Gideon's number echoing in her head. 202-555-6573. She keyed in the numbers. She held her finger over the call button. She put the phone down. Then picked it back up. Then put it down again. She went to bed and cried herself to sleep.