Warrick sauntered up the front walk with a spring in his step. His best friend had now been out of the hospital a couple of weeks, and the last few visits had been more like old times. Chinese take-out and bull sessions. Games on the tube. He still hadn't talked his friend into heading out anywhere with him. He claimed it was the bite scars that lingered on his face and arms, but he'd dropped enough hints that Warrick had been able to figure out it was more the prospect of crowds that freaked his friend out. But he thought he might have the answer in the back of a neighbor's pick-up truck.

His knock on the door was answered by a half-clad Nick, toweling off his hair. Nick swung the door open for him and walked back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. Just the fact that he'd let Warrick see him without his shirt on had been a good omen. He'd seemed to wear his bites, bruises, and bandages as badges of shame and had made every effort to cover them from sight, to the extent of wearing long sleeved shirts in summer. In Las Vegas. Needless to say, he'd been rockin' the central air.

Nick shouted out from the bedroom for him to grab a beer. "And the remote is back on top of the TV, where I always leave it!" he finished with a laugh.

He emerged from the bedroom barefoot and in a blue chambray long sleeved shirt and a pair of ratty jeans to find Warrick still standing there, rocking back and forth on his heels, with a foolish grin on his face. "Dude. What are you doing? Grab a beer and a seat. Those pilsners are still in there from the two-four you bought the other night."

Warrick rubbed his hands in anticipation. "Nope. Got a better idea. Let's get out of this place. I know I'm getting tired at staring at these walls. You've gotta be going outa your skull. C'mon. Nick Stokes, I'd like to introduce you to the outside."

Nick was already shaking his head but Warrick threw his hand up to stop him. "Nope. Not 'til you've seen what I brought." He could tell Nick was hesitant, but definitely intrigued. Got him!

He walked back to the front door and made an elaborate gesture of ushering Nick out first. He watched as his friend blinked like a mole in the bright afternoon sunlight, then gestured with his head to get Nick to step further out into the driveway and led him around the back of the pickup truck. Perched in the bed of the truck were two dirt bikes.

He relished the glimpse of the first excitement he'd seen in his friend's eyes in way too long. "I remembered you told me how you used to ride back home. Thought we could check out a few trails. What do ya think?"

Nick gave him a look. "Where did you get them?"

"Bought 'em off a friend of a friend."

"You bought them? Rick- these would've set you back - jeez - five k?"

More like seven. "Nah. Dude had a gambling debt he had to pay off and I got 'em for practically nothing. C'mon. Quit jawing and go get your kicks on."

They drove north until they came to an area of the desert that had been laid out with dirt bike trails. This time of the afternoon there weren't many people there, and those that were there were busy on their bikes. He saw Nick staring out at the expanse of bright sand and realized that he'd rarely seen his friend without his ubiquitous sunglasses on. He reached into the glove box and dug around, emerging with a pair of beat up plastic sunglasses and handed them to Nick, who put them on without a word. He looked more like the old Nick already, ugly sunglasses notwithstanding.

They unloaded the bikes from the back of the truck and he watched as Nick set himself up on one, refamiliarizing himself with the gears and pedals. He grabbed them each a helmet out of the backseat and waited to make sure Nick was ready. He watched as Nick fired up the bike, a grin spreading on his face, and handed him the helmet. As he reached over his sleeve pulled up and Nick noticed he was wearing a different watch. "Hey, Rick what happened to your Rolex?" He asked, making air quotes at Rolex. "Did it crap out on you already?"

"Yeah. Damn thing died the other day."

"That's what you get buying those shitty Chinese knockoffs, my friend."

"Yeah. Lesson learned. So, you ready?"

"Yeah. Riding a bike is like…riding a bike, I guess," he said with a laugh. He stepped on the gas, let out the clutch and took off at a respectable pace, not too much of a wobble at the beginning, then he evened out and sped off.

Not bad, Nicky. Not bad. Warrick revved up and took off after his friend.

They'd been riding for about an hour. Warrick was pleased to see a fresh new sunburn on his friend's former pallor. His plan had worked out better than he'd hoped for. Nick had taken to the bike like he'd never stopped riding, and was actually turning out to be a better rider than Warrick, who'd grudgingly given his buddy props for his superior riding skills.

They hit a straightaway and Nick poured on the gas, flying without fear. That's when the rabbit decided that he'd rather be on the other side of the trail. He hopped two feet out, then stopped, frozen at the sound of the engine revving at him at top speed. Nick barely had time to note the animal's presence. He swerved away, the bike riding up on the hard packed dirt ridge along the trail and losing traction, he laid the bike down and rolled off into the scrub that grew everywhere in the desert.

Warrick braked and ran over to his friend to find Nick sitting on the ground, knocking the sand and dirt off his jeans. He accepted an extended hand and stood up slowly and shakily, mumbling a string of profanities to himself. Warrick was a bit taken aback by the obscenities. Nick had always been a pretty soft-spoken guy and usually reserved the choicer words in his vocabulary for situations where he was talking about crimes involving kids.

"Jeez, Bro. Nice spill. You alright?"

"Yeah. Set my ribs back a few weeks, though, I think." Another few whispered profanities. "Is the rabbit okay?"

Leave it to Nick to be more concerned about some damn bunny rabbit… "Yeah. It took off. You never hit it. You sure you're okay? Damn, that was a hell of a tumble you took."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's check out the bike."

The bike was none the worse for wear, better than it's rider.

A much more subdued Nick saddled back on the bike and took off his helmet to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Sun's going down pretty soon. Maybe we oughta head back, huh?

"Nick, Man. It wasn't your fault. You were doing great. It was just bum luck that rabbit crossed your path."

"Yeah, I know." He buckled his helmet strap and gave Warrick a dark look. "You ready?" And without waiting for a response he revved his bike and took off back to the parking area.

Nick barely spoke the entire time they were loading the bikes back onto the truck and spent the drive back to his house staring out the passenger side window, slumped against the seat.

Warrick pulled into his drive and Nick turned to him with a sad smile on his face. "Thanks, Rick. I had a great time. I really needed to get out. This was great. Really great, I mean it." He got out, walked up to his house, and entered, shutting the door behind him without looking back.

Warrick sighed. Yeah, 'Great.'