Title: Ice Forms Over

Disclaimer: Slash, language, violence, and angst.

POV: Martin

Chapter Seven: Inside Myself

Two days later….

I drop the remote on the couch. Nothing is ever on TV during the day. Usually this wouldn't bother me because I would be working. Working, ah, sweet relief from boredom. Never in my life did I think I would miss my job so much. Not the way that I do. I miss running around after the bad guys and holding my gun at them. I miss that rush of joy at finding the missing person alive and returning them to their loved ones. Most of all I find myself missing my co-workers. There's always something to be talked about while at work. Whether it be about Vivian's son, Jack's daughter, or even Danny's brother. I miss it all. Staying home all day by myself gives me too much time to think. Is it weird to want to turn off your brain?

The clock chimes the hour; it's ten in the morning and I've nothing to do but take my medication. Sitting on the coffee table are two bottles of pills. One of them is nearly empty, that would be my pain medication. The other one is still very full, the antibiotics to keep away the infections. I wonder what my father would have done if I died from an infection because the hospital neglected their job? I sigh. Not a good thing to even think about, never mind wanting to see. My father can be such a pain in the ass.

With gentle movements I manage to sit up on the couch. The pain in my abdomen is duller than it has been since I got shot. I still take the pill. I chase it down with one of the antibiotics. On a complete whim I take a sleeping pill too. Maybe I can sleep away the boringness of the day. Time always passes fast when I'm sleeping. With a swig of water I lie back down on the couch and wait for the pills to do there stuff. In minutes I feel myself drifting off into the land of dreams.

"Martin, wake up." The voice breaks into the darkness of my sleep clogged mind. I try to push it away. I'm probably just dreaming again, dreaming away the dreary day. "Martin, get the hell up," someone yells. I feel a strong hand grab my shoulder and pull me into a sitting position. I feel like someone lights a fire in my body. My eyes pop open. Danny is standing before me, between the table and the couch. I shove his hand away from my shoulder before placing the other one over my painful wound.

"It's nice to see that you're home, Danny, but that hurt. Talk about a rude awakening," I mumble in a sleepy voice.

"A rude awakening? You want to know who's had a rude awakening?" His voice is high. Why is he yelling?

"What are you talking about? You aren't making any sense." I feel the sleep leaving my body quickly. This is a time to pay attention. Something has gotten under Danny's skin and apparently it's my fault.

He grabs the bottle of my pain pills off the table. "I can't believe the doctor was right about you, Martin. You can't be doing this to yourself. To your friends."

"Doing what?" I ask innocently.

His eyes burn with anger. "Last night there were ten pills in this bottle. Now there's only seven. I'm sure you didn't need three pills today. You're only supposed to be taking one." He throws the bottle at me. It lands on my lap. He grabs the other bottle. "You've already taken five of these in two days. And this bottle is nearly empty," he remarks as he grabs the bottle of sleeping pills.

"You're wrong."

He shakes his head. "Don't deny it, Martin. I checked each of the bottles just last night while you were sleeping. I wanted to prove the doctor wrong. Turns out I was the wrong one. How can you do this?"

"You don't understand," I say standing from the couch. Danny is now pacing on the opposite side of the table.

"What is there to understand? I thought that I knew you, Martin. I can't believe that this is happening."

"They keep the pain away, Danny. And I'm in so much pain. I don't like feeling the pain," I plead my case.

He glares at me in disbelief. "Pain? You do it because of pain and I don't understand that? What the hell? You know that I used to drink away my pain. I fought my alcohol problem and my brother fought through drug abuse. I never in my life thought I would be standing here having to talk to you like this." He's nearly yelling now.

"It's not your problem," I mutter.

"Not my problem? Damn it, Martin, you're my friend; I can't watch you fall apart like this. I refuse to lose you to this addiction. Ask me for help. Tell me that you don't want these pills." Now his voice is pleading.

My shoulders slump. "Alright, I admit, I'm addicted to the pills. I enjoy the feeling they give me. They take me away from what has become a place of hell to me. I'm tired of sitting him day in and day out trying to feel useful. Sometimes I find myself wishing that I'd died on the operating table. Is that what you want to hear?"

He comes over to my side and places his hands on my shoulders. I try hard to meet his gaze. "Martin, I understand your need to feel useful. I understand the feeling of wanting to run away from your problems. Trust me; this is not the way to do it. You have to stop this, Martin. If you don't, Jack will find out. It's not something you can hide forever. And you know that when he finds out you'll be out of a job. Do you want that to happen?" I shake my head. "Then stop, Martin. Don't take the pills anymore."

I feel the tears welling up in my eyes. If I blink I know that they will start falling. Yet I can't stop them. "I wish I could stop," I say in a quivering voice.

"You can stop," Danny says in a softer voice. "You need to stop before it kills you."

The tears are tired of waiting and they begin to fall, leaving wet tracks on my cheeks. Danny pulls me close to him and embraces me in a hug. His arms are strong, giving me some comfort. No one has held me since my relationship with Sam. The thought of Samantha and our doomed relationship depresses me even more. In my mind I thought we were doing fine. Sure, I wasn't spreading the word around the office. Why should I? Samantha had already had an affair with my boss. People would think lowly of her and I never wanted that. As much as I tried to keep the relationship quiet people still found out. Jack amazingly wished us happiness and Danny had acted like a high school boy when he found out.

After Sam got tired of my refusing to be public with our relationship she decided to leave me. I can't remember if she visited me in the hospital after I got shot. If she did, it was when I was unconscious. I do know that I haven't seen her since that day. Danny doesn't talk about her when he comes home at night. Maybe he's afraid my heart hasn't healed. Or maybe he doesn't want me to think about her.

"We'll beat this, Martin", I hear Danny whisper in my ear. I never thought that love would come my way again. After Sam I figured I would just concentrate on my job. If I can't make my dad happy with grandchildren I can at least make him proud of his professional son. Now, standing in this quiet living room with Danny's arms around me, I begin to wonder. Maybe I can still fall in love. Maybe there is still a chance for some happiness. Life just feels right with Danny's arms around me.