Ryan arrived at apartment No. 5 just before 7pm, palms sweaty, heart racing, his busy mind coming up with a slew of different greetings with which he would hopefully soothe his best friend's fiery temper to manageable levels and get to the bottom of what had been troubling him enough to disappear for the remainder of the workday.

Beckett had given him detailed instructions to keep the findings of Lanie's autopsy report to himself for the time being, fearing that the additional circumstantial evidence would only fan the flames further in a case that was obviously eating away at Esposito's nerves.

As such, he'd stopped at the gas station along the way to fill up on an assortment of goodies; offerings to the gaming Gods, if he were to have his way. A couple hours of mindless screen time might just be the best way to solve the issue altogether.

Slightly out of breath, with his hands trembling, he knocked on the wooden door and waited.

And waited.

He'd seen Javi's car parked below, lights on in his living room as he approached the building.

Growing increasingly worried, he knocked again, this time louder.

"Yo Javi, are you home?", he tried, not receiving an answer.

"Jenny is out of town with her mother and I got a six pack and some snacks here. I thought we could, you know…play Madden for a bit. I never did give you a chance for revenge after I beat you so bad last time."

His voice was echoing in the empty hallway, doing little to soothe his anxious mind. As he felt his heartrate speeding up, Ryan recalled reading about suicide and PTSD, the despair some people felt when dealing with this debilitating condition. He wondered about this case and if it would possibly qualify as a trigger event for his best friend, causing a tsunami of unwelcome memories to wash over him, threatening to drown him in its wake.

An exit strategy.

It had been Javi's exact words and they sent shivers down his spine now as his experienced mind painted the grisly image of a lifeless body dangling from the ceiling or stairwell, or the characteristic blood splatter from a close-range bullet to the head.

Swallowing hard, Ryan sat the beer and plastic bags on the ground and dug out his cell phone, his breaths coming in short gasps as he dialed his partner's number.

His shaking fingers nearly missed the right digits and he forced himself to slow down, not assume anything without actual proof.

And yet, the cell phone going off on the other side of the door felt like a dagger through his heart, the sheer thought that Javi could have done something to harm himself putting all his senses into overdrive.

He was about to back up and prepare for a forcible entry, when the ringing suddenly stopped, the cell on his end showing that the call had been terminated, forcing it straight to voicemail.

"Hi, this is Javier, please leave a message.", came the neutral response on the other end of the line that turned his hurricane of emotions from terror to heartache and resentment.

Okay, that was a new kind of behavior for the man he'd worked with for the better part of the past few years; a man he'd learned to respect for his upstanding values and easy-going attitude.

Perhaps, whatever had soured Javi to resort to this type of childish behavior would take a lot more to solve than a computer game.

Sliding the cell back into his coat pocket, Ryan pursed his lips and pushed the goodies toward the door, ready to leave.

"Seeing that you don't want to have company tonight, I ehm…I am leaving the stuff right here for you in case…in case you're hungry or feel like a beer and…you know…for next time we play. Have a good night, Javi. I'll see you tomorrow."