When Travis came through the front door of the loft, it was the same moment that Jones collapsed against the counter, and was the same moment that Derrick looked up in surprise. "Trav!" he said in surprise. "Here, help me get Jones to bed, I think she had a little bit too much to drink tonight."

Derrick was in a compromising situation, and Travis knew it. However, ever the silent one, he walked up the stairs to the platformed kitchen and helped Derrick carry Jones to her bedroom. This was the first time Jones had to have been carried; many a night they would carry Derrick and many more a night they would carry Travis, but this was the first time Jones had been too intoxicated to move.

Once upon her bed, the two men stared at each other.

They had been good friends once a long time ago.

But Travis wasn't looking in the eyes of his good friend any more; his blue eyes were tinted and outlined with 'rapist'.

"What?" asked Derrick.

Travis was quiet. Then, suddenly, it happened. It was completely out of nowhere, and later he questioned what made him do it, but when Travis' callused knuckles collided with Derrick's jawbone, euphoria swept over him in one grand sweep.

"Travis!" yelled Derrick as he massaged his bleeding jaw. "What the fuck!"

"I know what you were going to do to Jones! I heard you talking about it this afternoon; you were going to rape her!"

Derrick stood up quickly, but still stunned by the unexpected blow to his face. "Maybe if you'd just calm down…"

But Travis didn't notice the hand until it met with his stomach. Doubled over, his face soon met Derrick's knee and he heard a slight crack and blood began to pound and flow like he'd never felt before. Both hands went to his face to catch rivers of blood. He watched Derrick's arm cock back for a second punch, but was able to connect the dots a lot faster and nimbly dodge it as his scarf was wrapped around Derrick's wrist.

Letting go of his bleeding nose with one hand, Travis smeared red truth over Derrick's face and pushed him back into Jones' bedroom wall.

Being braced by the wall, Derrick ran forward and tackled Travis to the ground, punching him hard over and over.

With every blow, Travis felt consciousness slipping further and further from him, a new constellation of stars gleaming before his eyes every time Derrick's fist made contact with his body.

Derrick knew that Travis was immobile, and he stood up overshadowing Travis' body. With a sleeve, he wiped away some of his own blood. "What was that all about, huh? You heard that I was going to rape Jones, and then you try to hit me? What were you thinking?" He sniffled, looking at the blood on his sleeve. "Fuck, I have to get this shit off my face. Don't you go anywhere, and I'll show you what I really meant to do to Jones."

Travis heard her bedroom door swing shut with a soft thud.

'Get up,' he thought to himself.

'You can't,' his other half replied.

'Jones needs you. Her phone is on her night table. Call someone. Get up.'

'You can't.'

'Get up now.'

With every effort in what was left of his body, Travis rolled himself to the side. He saw Jones lying, completely unconscious from the alcohol Derrick had persuaded into her, on her bed in a forlorn and broken state. With his weak elbows, he left a trail of blood across her floor and made it to her night table.

The phone rolled itself out of its cradle and almost out of Travis' reach. Everything was a little battle. 'If you're going to just lie down and die…'

"9-1-1?" he asked weakly.