Auron felt like he'd been hit by a freight train.  His entire body ached, his head felt like it was going to explode, and he was pretty sure some form of mold was growing in his mouth.  To top it off, he was freezing.

Why don't I have covers?

Lying on his side in bed, naked as a jaybird, Auron was a bit perplexed.  Most of last night was rather fuzzy after the Mezcal got opened.  He didn't remember loosing his clothes or getting in bed.  He sure didn't remember opening a window.

What the hell?  This is the worst fucking hangover I've ever had.

A hand reached back to grope for the blanket and instantaneously stopped.  There was a large warm lump under the blanket.  It was breathing.  Auron's eyes opened from narrow sleep filled slits to the wide open of fully awake.

No way.

Carefully withdrawing his hand, Auron turned his head to look at the other side of the bed.  Jecht was lying there hogging all the bedcovers with his head half shoved under a pillow.  Auron started to get a few more memories of last night and cringed.

Oh hell.

Auron put his hands to his aching head and rubbed his face.  To say that the situation was awkward was more than an understatement.  What little he could remember through the haze of alcohol and drugs made the logical leap pretty easy.

This is NOT good.

It didn't take long for Auron to make a plan of action.  He'd just deal with this the way he did every other lay he'd ever had – tell them to get out, he had shit to do, and he'd call them later. 

I'd better shower first.  This IS Jecht after all.  If I'm not ready to go, he'll know I'm lying.

Moving carefully, Auron started to slide out of bed.  Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough.  Jecht rolled over in his sleep, tossed an arm over him, and pulled him flush.

Fuck!

There was no good way to get out of this situation.  Auron decided to just put his cards on the table.  He elbowed Jecht to wake him up.  "Hey!  Wanna let go of the merchandise?"

Jecht grunted and mumbled something incoherent before actually opening his eyes.  When he did, they snapped open in a startled expression and his arm jerked away from Auron's body like he'd touched a hot pan.  "Shit.  Sorry dude."

Eyes narrowing, Auron took a good look at Jecht and tried to gague the situation.  He couldn't tell how much the man remembered and he sure wasn't going to ask.  It took about ten seconds for him to make a decision.  "Absolutly nothing happened here.  We fell asleep."

Jecht's response was immediate.  "Right."

"And we're never gonna talk about this.  EVER."

"Hell no."

Auron wasn't sure if he was thrilled by this turn of events or a bit insulted.  Either way, he didn't have to worry about any complications so he no longer gave a shit.  He slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom.  "Don't let the door hit you in the ass, Jecht.  I got somewhere to be."

--------------

An hour later, Auron was dressed and Jecht was out of the apartment.  Finding some clothes that felt comfortable was a bit of a challenge.  He'd started to pull on a pair of jeans and quickly realized he was far too sore and bruised.  He finally settled on a pair of loose black cotton drawstrings that went with his gi.  He put a T-shirt on, grabbed the denim jacket off the floor where it had been discarded last night, and headed out the door.

He'd lied.  He didn't have an appointment but that didn't mean he didn't have a destination.  After last night, he really needed to talk to Braska.  He schlepped over to SoHo.

Walking was strange, but he figured it was better than sitting in a cab.  The longer he was awake, the more he remembered from last night and the more confused he got.  Trying to push it out of his mind wasn't working too well, but an afternoon at Braska's should take care of that.

"Hi."  Braska opened the door to the small apartment he shared with Yuna.  Auron shuffled in.  "Two unannounced visits in two days.  I'm going to start thinking something is wrong, Auron."

The man was joking, but the comment still elicited a bit of a frown.  Trying not to look concerned, Braska shut the door behind Auron and headed toward the kitchen.  He'd been in the ministry long enough to know when someone needed a bit of food and coaxing to talk.  "I was just about to have a sandwich.  Want something?"

Auron tossed himself down on the couch and lay back until he found a position he could live with.  "Yeah.  That would be cool."

About ten minutes later both men were eating ham sandwiches and chips.  Washing it down with soda, they didn't say much.  Finally, Braska tried the oblique approach.  "I really have to thank you for getting Yuna to come home.  I can't believe I didn't know what she's been doing.  I feel so stupid."

Shrugging, Auron took a swig of soda and said, "It's no big deal.  Kids rebel.  Of course, you probably didn't – but the rest of us normal people tend to start sneaking around and lying around fourteen or so.  You're lucky it took her this long.  Consider it a testament to your parenting skills."  He grinned at Braska and put the soda can on the coffee table.

Braska sighed.  "Well, I don't feel like much of a good parent.  I guess I just don't understand the way things work.  She's my little girl."

Auron nodded.  "Yeah.  I know."

"I got my tickets today.  I leave in a week."  Braska clasped his hands together.  "You're sure that it's not too much for you to watch out for her?"

"No sweat.  You've done a great job with her.  Aside from checking in with her, and making sure nobody's giving her crap, she'll take care of herself."

It seemed clear Auron wasn't going to say what was bothering him.  Braska finally went for the direct approach.  "And how about you?  Who will be watching your back?"

"I'll be fine."  Auron flashed a smile and made a wide-open gesture with his arms.  "You know me, always land on my feet."

Braska frowned.  He moved from the chair over to the couch and sat on the armrest near Auron's head.  "You don't need to play with me.  What's up?"

Auron sighed heavily.  "I wish you weren't leaving.  I'm gettin' used to you being around."

Nodding, Braska put a hand on Auron's shoulder.  "I know."

-------------

Tidus unlocked the door to the apartment.  It was dark and he flicked the switch to the entry light on before heading for the kitchen.

"Son, come in here."  Jecht's voice didn't seem real friendly and Tidus cringed.  When his dad used that tone, it usually meant a shouting match swiftly followed by a beating.

Stepping lightly into the opulent living room, he could see his dad sitting in the chair near the sofa.  He decided distance was a good thing and took a seat at the far end of the couch so Jecht would have to get over the glass coffee table and the tiger skin rug to punch him.  "Sup dad?"

"Well."  Jecht moved around a bit nervously.  "Uh.  We gotta talk."

A few moments of silence followed and finally Tidus said, "What about?"

Jecht shifted in the chair and finally said, "Well.  It's like this."  He stopped, scratched at his neck, and then started again. "Ok.  So, I want you to meet someone.  James!"

Tidus had no idea what this was all about but he wasn't feeling very good about it.  A blond man dressed in pressed tan pants, a light blue oxford cloth shirt, and a cream sweater tied around his neck stepped out of the shadows and approached. 

"Hi there."  The man extended a hand to Tidus.  "I'm James Oxendine."

Narrowing his eyes a bit, Tidus shook hands.  He looked at his dad in question.  Jecht said, "James is with Spencer Recovery."

The boy didn't get it.  "Nice to meet ya."

James took a seat next to Tidus and started his spiel.  "Your father called me because he loves you and is worried about you.  He feels your recent behavior is a bit self-destructive.  He wants to help you regain a sense of purpose and meaning to your life."  The smooth even voice continued.  "I am here to facilitate that change."

Tidus started to snicker and stand up.  "Dad, this is damn funny!  Where'd you find this guy?"

"Shut up and sit your ass down."  Jecht barked out the command and a finger thrust forward to emphasize his intent to ensure that Tidus didn't go anywhere.

"I think what your father is trying to say is that he'd like you to keep an open mind while we discuss your future plans."

"You've got to be shitting me!"  Tidus' incredulous expression said it all.  He wasn't interested in listening to any more.

"Our facility in Florida is a residential treatment center.  We specialize in assisting young people like yourself in the difficult process of cleansing the body of addictive chemicals."  James smiled pleasantly and put a hand on Tidus' shoulder.  "However, it is important that you admit you have a problem and commit to making a lifestyle change.  Tidus, your father and I would like to hear you say that you want to work toward a healthier tomorrow.  Can you do that for us?"

"Fuck off!"  Tidus pushed James' hand off his shoulder and got up.  "I'm outa here.  I have a date."

"You take one step toward that door and you'll wish you'd never been born."  Jecht's voice was a low growl.  "I am sick of your shit.  You are a complete fuck up.  I don't know how it all came to this but your ass is on a plane with James in a hour.  You're going to rehab."

"I think what your father is trying to say is that you don't seem to be making good decisions right now.  He's concerned that the drugs and alcohol are making your decisions for you.  It is his hope that you will come with me to Spencer Recover Center so you can rid yourself of your addictions."

Jecht's eyes narrowed as he looked at James.  His eyes darted back to Tidus.

The boy got in James' face and shouted, "why don't you take your preppy beachcomber ass back to wherever the fuck you came from and leave me alone!"

That was it.  Jecht was done.  He called around and was told that Spencer Treatment facility had the best percentage rate of recovery.  After a quick long distance chat with someone, he made reservations for the kid and James had shown up to escort Tidus to the plane and down to the facility.  He'd thought the guy was a bit of a stiff, but that was ok.  Jecht wasn't having the guy live with him – he was just gonna take the kid off his hands for a few months and try to get him sorted out.  Now the fucker was putting words in his mouth and acting like Tidus had some kind of choice about the situation.

"Tidus, I told you to sit your ass down!  You're getting on the fucking plane with James or you go into the goddamn army!  I'm not dealing with your shit anymore so pack your bag."

"I think what your father is trying to say is that he wants you to be receptive…"

"And you can shut the hell up too!"  Jecht was pissed.  He went over to the couch and looked down James.  He pointed a finger in his face.  "I know what I'm trying to say.  And what I'm trying to say is that he's a worthless piece of shit drug addict who needs to go dry himself out and that I'm not gonna put up with it anymore."  

Turning abruptly, Jecht picked Tidus up by the back of his shirt.  The boy's feet dangled in the air as his father strode down the hallway toward Tidus' room.  "And I better not find any drugs in your drawers while we pack your suitcase!"

James just sat there and gaped.