Not mine. My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading. I appreciate the comments of heidiblack14, James Birdsong, and CSIMiamiFAN on the last chapter.

Note: I am not a doctor. If Ryan needs better medical care, tell me in the comments.


Walter looked up from a magazine as his friend emerged from the back room of the ophthalmologist's office and walked toward the receptionist's desk. "Hey, Wolfe," he greeted as he stood up. "What did the doctor say?"

Ryan blinked one bloodshot eye and took a step back. His other eye was covered with a white gauze patch. "What're you doing here, Walter? I told you I was taking a cab home." With a deep frown, he added, "I watched you drive off with Delko." Ryan instantly adopted a guarded posture, folding his arms and standing with his feet apart. He would have looked more intimidating, Walter thought, if he hadn't been wearing a hoodie, baggy sweats, and old tennis shoes with missing laces. His face was deathly pale and the eyepatch only added to his air of frailty. As it was, his friend appeared both ill and annoyed, but Walter had known Ryan long enough to hear the edge of panic creeping into his voice, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Walter approached Ryan carefully. "It's all right, man. Delko had to get back to work on the Reynolds case. I told H I needed the afternoon off. Personal business." Before Ryan could ask, he added, "I didn't tell him anything, Ry. I just figured you needed a ride home."

Ryan turned back to the receptionist. "Well, I don't."

As Ryan was paying his bill, Dr. Medby appeared from the back. She handed Ryan two small slips of paper. "Don't forget these, Mr. Wolfe." She eyed Walter and nodded meaningfully at her patient. "Remember to keep that right eye covered until our next appointment." She handed him a pair of cardboard sunglasses with dark plastic lenses. "You need to protect your eyes, Ryan. They're very sensitive to light right now and that's triggering your headaches. I'll see you in two days. Do you need a note for work?"

Before Ryan could speak, Walter answered for him. "Yes, he does." Even with just one eye on him, the big man could feel the heat of Ryan's death glare.

Dr. Medby smiled. She added her signature to a pre-printed page and held it out. Lacking depth perception, Ryan struggled to retrieve it and Dr. Medby placed the document into his hand. "I've written this for a week. With any luck, we should be able to move you from the ointment to a drop long before then." She gave her patient an appraising look. "But only if you take care of yourself, Mr. Wolfe." At Ryan's pained expression, her face softened. "Go home and get some rest."

The thank you that Ryan gave her was nearly inaudible. Shoving the cheap sunglasses, prescriptions, and the form into the front pocket of his hoodie, Ryan stormed toward the door. Walter practically had to chase him to catch up.

Once they were in the hall, Walter asked, "So, looks like we need to hit a drugstore before we head home, Wolfe. Where do you normally get your prescriptions filled?"

The younger man turned and snapped, "What the hell was that, Walter?" As the big man shrugged, Ryan ranted, "It's none of your business if I need a note for work or where I get my prescriptions filled! I didn't ask for your help." He stomped off down the hall.

Walter sighed and followed him. "Wolfe-"

Ryan whirled around in a fury. He swore at Walter, using some particularly colorful language, before resuming his trek to the lobby.

Walter counted to ten before replying to Ryan's retreating back, his voice clear and deadly calm. "You know, I used to feel sorry for you. Poor little Wolfe. Dealt a bad hand. Had a rough childhood, always getting dumped on at work. But you know what? You can be a selfish bastard." As Ryan stopped abruptly and turned back with a look of surprise, Walter continued, "You've got so many people who care about you and you push us all away." Ryan folded his arms and stared at the floor with his good eye. "Do you have any idea how worried Eric, Natalia, and Calleigh are right now?" Walter shook his head. "No, of course you don't. Because you're too busy standing there, throwing yourself a pity party." He threw his hands in the air and turned away from Ryan. "Forget it, man," he called over his shoulder. "I've got better things to do. Find your own damned ride." He walked toward the parking garage, his heart heavy.

"Walter-"

"I'm not bluffing, Wolfe. If you can't be bothered to take care of yourself-"

"I'm sorry." The words startled Walter enough that he whirled around and walked back to his friend's side. "I ... uh ... I'm not mad at you," Ryan continued, arms loose at his sides. He fidgeted uncomfortably. "I'm just ... frustrated." The single eye he turned to Walter was visibly bloodshot, watery and haunted, and Walter felt the beating of his heart accelerate at this unexpected vulnerability.

He clamped a strong hand on Ryan's shoulder and squeezed. "My car's this way."


Walter and Ryan rode in companionable silence for awhile, Ryan with his elbow on the arm rest, holding up his head. Walter cast surreptitious glances at his passenger from time to time, noting the latter's pallor, occasional cough, and obvious fatigue. Belatedly, he remembered that Ryan had just come off of working a double.

"Hey, uh, Ryan," Walter began, as he cast about ways to phrase his thoughts without igniting the other's ire. "How about if I drop you off at home and then I'll pick up your medication. I can hit a grocery store for you at the same time." He left off the part about Ryan looking like death warmed over.

When Ryan didn't answer right away, Walter steeled himself for another barrage of fury. But when none came, he cast a glance at his friend. "Ry?"

"Mmm?" Ryan blinked open his left eye. "Yeah?" he replied, voice thick with sleep.

Walter chuckled. "Go back to sleep, Ryan."

With effort, Walter maneuvered his sleepy co-worker out of his car and up two flights of stairs. After depositing Ryan on his living room sofa, Walter slipped off his friend's shoes and covered him with Bubbe's blanket.

Walter frowned. A Ryan Wolfe that allowed someone to enter his apartment without putting up a fight and/or dusting the place was a first. He must be really out of it. Ryan still hadn't disclosed exactly what was going on with his health and Walter worried that he might be out of his depth in terms of his care. He rested his wrist across Ryan's warm and sweaty forehead, trying to gauge whether the man had a fever. His best guess was that he did, but it wasn't dangerously high.

"Thanks, mom," Ryan mumbled.

Walter cocked an eye at the drowsy man. There's no way I can leave him alone like this. And I need to get his medication. He located Ryan's land line, remembering that his friend kept several numbers on speed dial.

"Dr. Woods?" he said, as soon as the woman had picked up. "Yeah, this is Walter from the crime lab. I'm at Wolfe's place and he's not looking too good." At her question, he replied, "I don't know exactly. He saw Dr. Medby and she's got him on some kind of ..." He scrambled around for the scripts. "Antivirals and antibiotics. Does that sound right, taking those together? I need to run by the drugstore and get these prescriptions filled but I don't want to leave him here alone. He's kinda out of it." At her response, he smiled. "Okay, thanks."

He whispered to the sleeping man. "Wolfe, you don't know how lucky you are to be getting this house call."


Anybody recognize where Walter's last line comes from? It was a popular TV show in the '70s.