Chapter 82

Gil looked down at the porcelain sink then back at the syringe in his hand. Almost half of the precious clear liquid was still inside, just a tiny bit more than the previous day. Slowly, slowly but surely he worked his way off. He looked down at it. He wanted it, his body craving the rush he wasn't going to give it. He shook his head, looking down at the sink again. He tipped the needle down towards the drain an pressed the back of the syringe, watching every drop wash down the drain.

Finally, he looked back at his arm, pressing against the deeply infected marks, trying to stop the intense sting running down to his fingers. He opened and closed his hand a few times, trying to relieve the pain. He winced, letting his head fall back, gritting his teeth. He turned back to his arm, grabbing a piece of tissue and pressing it onto his arm, trying to soak up infection and blood. He hated it, all of it. What had he done to himself? He was a soldier, not a drug addict. Only he was a drug addict… and he felt sick.

His chest heaved as he coughed into his better arm, acid burning the back of his throat. He grabbed for the glass he kept on the edge of the bathroom sink, filling it with water and drinking it quickly. It barely helped. He pressed his hands into his forehead, trying to force his stomach to calm down by sheer willpower. It only half worked.

Gil sighed deeply, feeling the drugs starting to work. His mind grew cloudy and his hands started to shake. He looked down at them, confused, his vision blurry. He pressed both hands over his face, taking a step back to steady himself. He turned around, holding onto the doorframe for support. He shook his head, waiting for the warm, safe feeling to settle into his chest. He still felt sick. He turned back into the room, kneeling at the toilet, grabbing the sides, trying to order his body to not throw up. It chose insubordination over pain. His hands still shook, his ribs aching, his lungs begging for air. He tried to take a deep breath. He couldn't. He felt fear using into his chest as his heartbeat slowed.

No. No no no no no this isn't happening… he shook his head, looking back up at the syringes on the side of the sink. Something was wrong. He turned back to the door, trying to stand. He couldn't, his legs giving out. He tried to breathe, his lungs shaking as the world spun around him. He reached for something, anything he could grab onto to steady himself, anything he could use to stand. His fingers wrapped around the corner of the sink and he tried to pull himself up. He barely managed to stand, turning to lean against the doorframe again. He looked up towards the rest of his room. It still spun, fading in and out of focus. He looked down, forcing himself to step forward, turning towards the door to his room. He had to breathe. He just had to breathe. His hands shook more, and his legs gave out again.

Gil didn't move, laying on his side, trying to breathe, trying to remind his own heart to just keep beating. Had he passed out? He didn't remember. He looked up towards his door, dragging himself towards it, scraping his bare side against the carpet. He didn't care how much it hurt. He got to the door, his breath so shallow he could barely move his hands. He reached for the knob, watching in blurred slow-motion as his almost blue fingers couldn't grip it. He let his arm fall against the door, slamming it against it again as hard as he could, barely making a sound. He opened his mouth to cry for help, but his body forced a breath instead of a scream.

God, please… please… please let someone find me, anyone, please… It was more than a prayer, he was begging. Gil closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing, trying to feel his heart in his chest, trying to will it on to beat. Please… he tried to let his wrist hit the door again, praying someone would hear it.

…

Poland looked up from his book, annoyed. Someone down the hall was tapping, and it was obnoxious. He slipped his bookmark into the pages and set the fiction on his nightstand. He looked at the clock. It was almost midnight. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, throwing off the covers and standing, tossing on a pair of sweatpants and very fuzzy slippers. He opened his door, standing in the hallway for a moment to listen for the tapping. He growled in the back of his throat, hearing the noise again. It was coming from Gil's room. He wasn't surprised. He contemplated turning back to his book and trying to ignore it, but he was too angry.

He stormed towards Gil's door and knocked, "Hey, could you, like, stop tapping on the door? It's annoying the-"

The tapping sped up, and he thought he could hear a gasp coming from inside the room.

"Gil? Gil, what are you doing?" He put his hands on his hips, "Gil?"

There was one more loud tap before another gasp, this time louder, and almost pained.

Poland bit his lip, "Gil…?" he asked more carefully, "Gil are you ok?" He put his ear to the door. He could still hear the sound of Gil breathing, heavy and slow, dangerously slow. He turned the doorknob.

Poland froze, just staring for a moment. Gil's hands and lips were blue. He was laying on his side, trying to force air into his lungs by willpower alone. The sound of his breathing was painful to listen to. He knelt beside him, leaving the door open.

"HELP!" he screamed, "SOMEONE, PLEASE HELP!" he looked back down at Gil, lifting his head gently, trying to help him breathe, "Gilbert…?" Gil…?" He looked at him, trying to figure out what to do, trying to help, somehow. He had to help. He glanced back at Gil's right arm and saw blood. Carefully, he moved it, trying to get a better look. The needle mark. Realization shot through his heart. He looked back towards the door again. He couldn't do this alone. He needed help, he needed Estonia, or Lithuania, or anyone who would listen. He didn't dare call for human doctors.

He turned back to Gil, shaking him gently, "Are you awake? You have to stay awake."

Gil nodded very slightly.

Poland grabbed his hand, pausing for a moment, biting his lip as the feeling sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head, he didn't have time for a panic attack. He looked down at Gil's face, his lips blue, the veins in his neck more clear as his body begged for air. He shuddered. He couldn't do nothing.

"Can you squeeze my hand?" he asked, shaking, trying to stay calm.

Gil proved he could, his hands shaking with the effort. He could barely feel his hands, and his fingers were completely numb.

"Ok, ok good. One squeeze means 'yes', and two means 'no', ok?"

Gil gave one squeeze.

Poland sighed in relief. He looked back over his shoulder out the door, "PLEASE! SOMEONE HELP!" he screamed as loud as he could, banging on the side of the wall with his free hand, his other still closed around Gil's. He looked back at the white-haired country.

"Ok, did you take your normal dose of heroin?" Poland bit his lip.

Two squeezes.

Dread sank into Poland's stomach, "Did you take more?" he tried to force himself to ask the questions factually, his mind screaming at him to get away from Gil, to run and let him die.

Two squeezes.

Poland frowned, surprised, "Less?"

One squeeze.

"So you took less heroin than usual?"

Again, one squeeze.

Poland tried to think of a reason, any reason, why this was happening… unless the drugs weren't pure. If there was something to make them stronger inside them. He kept the thought tucked close by in his mind, looking down at Gil again, then away. He couldn't look at his face. He'd watched too many people die.

"Were you drinking before you took the heron?"

One squeeze again.

Poland winced, "Did you drink too much? Get drunk?"

Gil squeezed his hand twice.

Poland looked over his shoulder again, he needed more help. Someone had to be coming. He had to get someone to hear him. He just couldn't be loud enough.

"Gil," he turned to him again, shaking him again urgently as he saw Gil's chest completely still, "Gil wake up. I need you to wake up. Come on…" he pressed his fingers into the man's neck. The pulse was weak, but there, "Please breathe…"

Gil took a very faint, very shaky breath. But it was a breath.

Poland sighed in relief, "Can you still hear me?" he asked.

No squeezes.

"Gil?" He touched his shoulder again, "Gil, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"No. No no no no no…" Poland looked over his shoulder again, why wasn't anyone there already. He took a deep breath, screaming as loud as he could. He heard doors opening as he turned back to Gil. He heard Lithuania's footsteps, at two others. He hoped it was Estonia and Latvia, or even Hungary or Ukraine, just someone other than Russia. Someone who could help.

"Feliks tell me everything you know," Estonia's voice was urgent as he knelt next to Gil, grabbing his hand from Poland and pressing his fingers into the man's wrist.

"He just stopped responding… I think he got a bad bag of drugs or something…?" Panic started to settle into Poland's chest, his hands shaking. He tried to force himself to stay calm. Estonia was there, he would fix things. He would help Gil.

Poland jumped, turning to see Lithuania's hand on his shoulder.

"Estonia, what do you need?" Lithuania's voice was equally hurried and Poland could feel his hand shaking on his shoulder.

"Just grab my bag!" Estonia almost snapped, not taking his eyes off Gil. "If you can hear me, Gil, please, please just try to breathe…" he shook the mans' shoulder, trying to force him awake.

Nothing.

Lithuania ran back as fast as he could, setting Estonia's back next to him, "What can I do?" he asked, looking down at Gil, shuddering to see his face. He couldn't watch. He didn't want to watch his friend die.

"It's labeled already for a heroin overdose," Estonia said simply, not taking his eyes off Gil.

"Ok…" Lithuania whispered, digging through the bag until he found it. It was a long needle. He winced, handing it to Estonia.

The blond nation drove it into Gil's leg without a moment of hesitation, "This will counteract it… if we got here in time. Other than that… there's nothing I can do. We just have to wait until he fights through it, or dies."

Poland turned back to look at Gil, leaning in to listen to him breathing, laying his head on the mans' chest. The breath was weak, almost nonexistent, but it was there, and it was slowly getting stronger.

"Hang on, Gil. Please just hang on…" he looked over at Lithuania worried.

Lithuania put his hand on Poland's should reassuringly, "Good job waking us up by the way. You almost killed us."

"Well at least, Gil's going to stay alive, so…" Poland bit his lip. He wasn't really in the mood to joke.

"I hope so…" Estonia said simply, inspecting Gil's arm, "Do you know where the rest of the heroin is? Empty syringes…. anything?"

Poland shook his head.

"B," Gil's voice broke very quickly, his breath still shaky and weak, "Bath… bathrmm sink… Itwasntright…" all his words slurred together until Poland couldn't understand it.

Lithuania ran into the bathroom, looking down at the sink where the syringes had fallen into it. He picked them up carefully, bringing it to Estonia.

"Thank you…" Estonia looked them over, smelling the liquid, "This wasn't pure… that's why this is happening…" he shook his head with a sigh. "We need to get him onto the bed…"

Lithuania nodded, turning to look at Poland.

"I don't want to touch him…" Poland shook his head.

"Can you move the covers for us?" Estonia asked, trying to be gentle.

Poland nodded, standing and running towards the bed, throwing the covers away from it.

Carefully, gently, Lithuania and Estonia lifted Gil and carefully laid him down on the bed, pulling the covers over him. Estonia listened to his heart again, nodding in approval.

"It's far from perfect, but it's there and getting stronger, so that's a start," he smiled, listening to his lungs again. His breath was shallow, but there. The counter-drug was working. Estonia sighed in relief.

"Gil, can you hear me?" he asked gently.

Gil manage to nod faintly.

"You're not going to die from this."

Gil didn't respond. His body burned, his limbs refusing to feel like anything but jelly. His lunges still heaved and his heart was heavy, pounding in his chest, but dangerously slow. He wasn't sure he wanted to survive. He would value the few hours of peace… he tried to open his eyes, his vision so blurred he could barely make out the faces. He fixed his eyes on a blond country he didn't recognize. He was too tall to be Latvia, and Estonia was standing next to him. He couldn't imagine it could be anyone else, unless…

"Poland?" Gil asked weakly.

"Yes?" Poland whispered, his own breath shaking.

"Thank you…" Gil nodded, trying to talk through the pain, trying to breathe.

"Stop talking, Gil," Estonia almost snapped, "Stop talking. Just breathe. Please, just breathe…"

A/N: New Chapter up! YAY! It's late and I'm super tired, so there will be like, no author's notes here... but yeah. Gil is trying to get off the drugs! And Poland was helpful! But, as much as he tried... he's still nervous around Gil. He still doesn't want to touch him or talk to him.

Thank you for all the reviews! YAY! I LOVE reading them. Even if all of you don't agree with all my story choices. ;) ;P Thank you so much for all the support. I really can't express how much it means to me! *hugs* cookies and cake and candy for all!