He wondered when he'd stop feeling so tired, so drained of energy. He'd slept for a good eight hours, maybe more – which was certainly a rarity for him – but he didn't feel rested at all. He felt tired, and not just physically. So much had happened, and so quickly it seemed, although he'd been leading up to this point for quite a while now. But it was only a week ago that he had been slumped on the floor in front of Danny's apartment well on his way to a drug overdose.
It was terrifying if he thought about it for too long.
Unfortunately, he had to think about it. Had to think about recovering, about getting more help and moving on with his life. Although, it was more than daunting to realize that he'd forever be labeled an addict now. There was a very big part of him that just wanted to run away. To leave behind everyone and everything he knew and escape, see where he ended up if he was completely on his own. However, he was pretty certain that wouldn't be a good place. Despite his pride, his need to prove that he could stand on his own two feet, he needed help. For once in his life, he realized that he couldn't do everything by himself.
And somehow, somewhere along the way he'd gotten Danny.
Yawning softly, he forced himself to sit up, pushing the blankets off of his legs and stretching his arms over his head. He could hear Danny in the living room, muttering about not being able to find his keys. Softly, Martin padded across his bedroom floor, grabbing a t-shirt from the foot of his bed and pulling it on as he walked into the hallway. He made a stop in the bathroom, smiling to himself as he saw Danny's missing keys lying on the sink.
"Looking for these?"
Danny spun around quickly, nearly tripping over his feet. "You scared me!" he exclaimed, his wide-eyed expression changing to a smirk as Martin tossed him the keys. Within moments, his expression changed again, a concerned look flitting across his features. Martin had to wonder how he switched thoughts and feelings so quickly. "Did I wake you?" he asked softly.
Martin shook his head and walked into the adjoining kitchen; eager for some of the coffee he smelled brewing. He'd expected Danny's concern to become annoying after a few days, but here it was a week later and Danny was still staying with him, still worrying about him, and still being a tremendous comfort. He wondered how long they could go on this way without talking though. Not that they hadn't talked, because they had. About many things. Things Martin wasn't sure he'd be able to open up about. But they'd never really said a word about the fact that Danny had become a somewhat permanent fixture on Martin's couch, in Martin's apartment…every night.
He thought back to the day after he'd come home from the hospital. How nervous he'd been to tell Danny what he needed most. A break. Time off. And he needed – and wanted – Danny to go with him when he talked to Jack.
"I need a break Danny," he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence they'd lapsed into. Danny's eyes were full of understanding and Martin shifted closer to him unconsciously. "I need to take some time off to recover and just…" he trailed off, biting down on his lower lip and looking away. "I can't do both," he whispered. "I can't get better and work there at the same time."
He didn't expect Danny's hand on his arm, and when he looked up and met Danny's eyes again he felt a lump forming in his throat. Danny was smiling softly, eyes warm, nothing but sympathy and acceptance in his eyes. "What do you need me to do?" he asked softly after a few moments.
Martin shook his head, turning away and pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. He couldn't say anything yet, was terrified to speak because he knew his voice would break, and damn if this wasn't hard. He wasn't quite sure how to ask, how to lean on Danny and let him help. But underneath it all, he knew Danny understood what he was going through. After a few minutes, he turned to face him again, forced himself to move closer and when Danny reached out for him, Martin returned his embrace without a second thought. He let Danny hold him. Just shut his eyes and let himself feel safe in Danny's arms.
"Will you come with me?" he asked softly, his head resting against Danny's shoulder. "To talk to Jack?"
"Course I will," Danny answered, pulling Martin just a little closer.
They sat that way for a long time, and for the first time since he'd figured out his addiction, he felt safe. He felt like maybe, possibly…things would get better.
Things were still difficult though. But Danny was more help than Martin thought he realized. The time off was good for him also, even if the first few days had been unnerving. He wasn't used to having time to himself with nothing to do. Well, nothing wasn't exactly the right word…
He spent a lot of that time convincing himself that he didn't need any Vicodin. Also, he took the initiative to call the hospital, to set up a follow up appointment. That was easy because he understood and accepted the wisdom of checking on his physical symptoms. It was infinitely harder, however, to call the counselor that he'd been referred to and to make an appointment to see her. Also tough had been finding an NA meeting to attend – something Danny had offered to go to with him if he wanted it. And Martin did want that. Going would be difficult enough and while part of him wanted to go alone, to indeed remain anonymous, he wanted Danny's support more.
Martin leaned against the counter between his kitchen and living room, sipping his coffee and watching Danny put on his tie. His stomach fluttered as his eyes followed Danny's fingers – nimble, elegant almost – move over the fabric, adjusting it at his neck. He forced himself to look away after a few moments, not wanting to get caught staring.
And that was something else they hadn't talked about. Their attraction to one another. The relationship that was more than simple friendship but not quite anything more. It was frustrating as hell, but so much easier to go on pretending it wasn't there. So many barriers, obstacles…Martin was positive that it would never work. Even though he could still replay their only kiss in his head with perfect clarity as if it had happened minutes ago instead of months. And never mind the fact that two nights ago he'd ended up sleeping in Danny's arms after a nightmare that had left him practically paralyzed with fear.
"Martin."
The voice seemed far away, small…no one could possibly be calling him. It was too dark for anyone else to be here. He was lost, cold…terrified. And there was nothing around him…nothing but a terrible, inky black darkness. He wanted to scream, but he could barely breathe; the darkness was suffocating. Paralyzing.
"Fitzie, please wake up…"
The voice was louder now. Familiar too. But he didn't trust it, didn't trust anything. How could he? There was nothing but darkness.
"Martin!"
He opened his eyes, awakening with a start, dim light causing him to blink several times. He was cold, sweaty; his breathing was irregular and the fear from the dream lingered, making him wonder if he were truly awake. But as orientation returned, he was finally able to focus on Danny. Danny, whose eyes were worried, frightened almost, peering down at him nervously. And he was so close. Sitting next to him in bed, hands on Martin's shoulders…warm, strong.
"Danny…" he murmured, voice trembling.
"You wouldn't wake up," Danny said, fear evident in his soft voice. He paused, blinking several times, hands moving gently over Martin's arms, heat seeping into Martin's skin through his thin t-shirt. "Are you okay?"
And God how he wanted to say yes – to lie – to tell Danny that he was fine and it had just been a nightmare and shake it off. But he couldn't. Because he was still afraid, even now when he was awake, not alone, safe with Danny…he was still panicked, fearful. And worst of all, he didn't really know why. There wasn't a single, exact reason that he could pin down; it was just a combination of everything. The same kind of nightmare he used to have right after the shooting…but amplified somehow now…probably because of the addiction.
He shook his head, staring up at Danny with pleading eyes, unable to voice a reply. When Danny lied down next to him, Martin started to tremble. A part of him wanted to cry, but his tears wouldn't come. He let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him as Danny pulled him into his arms. Warmer now…he felt the fear start to dissolve as he curled closer to Danny, burying his face against his neck and shutting his eyes. Danny held him tightly with strong arms, hands rubbing slow circles over his back. While a part of Martin wanted to resist, to maintain the distance that they had imposed with each other for such a long time, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He fell asleep a while later, feeling safe in Danny's arms…
"Martin?"
Martin shook his head, forced himself out of his memories. He blushed slightly as he looked up and met Danny's eyes. "Sorry…tired," he muttered.
Danny smirked, pulling on his coat and grabbing his bag. "Uh huh," he answered. "Do you want me to bring something home for dinner?" he asked, double-checking his bag to make sure he still had the previously-missing keys.
"If you get a chance," Martin replied lightly, trying his best to ignore the way Danny referred to Martin's apartment as home. Martin felt his heart ache, wishing – not for the first time – that it meant more than a simple word. Danny looked up again, smiled as he walked down the hall and called out his goodbye.
"Bye Danny." A pause. "Be safe," he added softly after Danny had already left.
-----
He couldn't remember the last time he'd sat down to read a book. Upon complaining to Danny that he was bored and had nothing to do with his time off, Danny had risen an eyebrow suspiciously, stared at Martin for the longest time and then shook his head.
"So read a book."
Martin hadn't answered him at the time knowing there was much more behind his gaze. Recovering from a drug overdose hardly qualified as nothing to do. Martin also had the distinct impression that Danny would probably hold him captive or something equally extreme if he tried going back to work before he was truly ready.
The book he'd chosen was something easy – a sale-priced paperback about a murder-mystery. Simple, raunchy, entertaining. It was relaxing and, although he'd never admit it, he liked it.
It was around four thirty when a knock on the door startled him from the book. Frowning, he slipped his bookmark between the pages, reluctant to leave the story but curious about whom might be at the door. Quickly, he glanced through the peephole, and then paused. He'd been expecting this, had been waiting, knowing it would happen sooner rather than later.
It was his father.
And Martin had known since the moment he'd talked to Jack about taking a leave of absence that his father would find out. But he hadn't been strong enough to tell him on his own, and honestly, he wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it with him now.
Taking a deep breath, he unlocked and opened the door, his stomach fluttering nervously. "Hi dad."
"Martin," Victor replied, no real emotion in his voice. But his expression was strangely subdued, curious…even worried.
"Do you want something to eat? Drink?" Martin asked as he led his father into the living room.
"No thanks," Victor answered, glancing around the room as if he had never seen it before. Martin waited, biting down on his lower lip and watching his father closely. He seemed at a loss for words, something Martin couldn't recall ever seeing before.
"I assume you know why I'm here?" Victor asked finally.
Martin nodded, motioning for his dad to sit down in one of his chairs. He was surprised by the lack of disappointment he heard in his father's voice. It was something…different. "I knew you'd find out," he replied softly, sitting down on the couch and facing him. "I just…I couldn't tell you then…"
"Couldn't tell me what?" Victor asked, frowning. "Both you and Agent Malone failed to indicate the exact reason as to why you needed a leave of absence on the form you filled out."
And Martin nearly smiled at the way he sneered over Jack's name…that was much more like his dad. But something was still very…off. There was a certain concern in his father's eyes that Martin had never seen before. It threw him, and he couldn't seem to answer. If he told the truth, he was afraid that concern would turn to its normal disappointment and exasperation.
"Are you sick?" Victor asked after several moments of silence. His voice was strained, nervous almost.
Martin looked up sharply, shaking his head at the genuine concern he saw in his father's eyes. Understanding dawned. "No," he choked out. "I'm not…well, no. I…I don't have cancer or anything if that's what you mean," he said, frustrated. He saw relief flash in Victor's eyes before he schooled his features quickly back to neutral. It made Martin angry…yet he wasn't sure why. The worry he'd heard in his father's voice, the concern he'd seen there…it had been real. But was that only because Victor assumed him to be dying of some terminal illness? It wasn't enough to just be worried…it had to be something deathly serious. Otherwise, it must not matter.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
And again Martin was taken off guard, because the worry was back. Yes, Victor had looked relieved when Martin had said he wasn't sick, but now he seemed concerned again. Frowning, he sighed and ran his hand over his eyes and his forehead, trying to figure things out. He just wasn't used to dealing with this side of his father. Hadn't even known this side existed.
"You really want to know?" Martin asked softly.
Victor nodded, looking slightly exasperated. "I'm here, aren't I?"
Martin shut his eyes for a moment and nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to retort an angry response. Mainly because arguing was normally his first instinct where his father was concerned. But he was tired, and he just didn't have it in him to argue right now.
"I…I hurt my hip a while ago…I fell," he started, wondering if his father already knew. "It was fine but…painful. And it just got away from me and I ended up…I…was addicted to painkillers. Am addicted. I overdosed on them…I was in the hospital…and now I'm…recovering. Or trying to. But I couldn't get better and…work at the same time," he finished, words choppy, his voice hoarse. Admitting his problem – to his father of all people – was still hard. Sometimes, it seemed even more difficult than the actual recovery.
Victor didn't say anything right away, and that Martin had expected. But he looked at his father carefully, and the stony, resigned silence he had anticipated wasn't there. Instead, he still looked worried…understanding even. And that Martin found very difficult to trust.
The silence stretched on, well on its way to becoming painful and Martin wondered how long the two of them could sit there without saying anything. They were both incredibly stubborn after all. But he wasn't in the mood to play their usual game.
"You haven't said anything," he remarked. His father cleared his throat, shook his head and looked away from Martin's curious eyes. Martin couldn't remember ever seeing his father look so flustered; it was rather unnerving. "Dad?"
"I'm sorry Martin, this is just…"
"Unexpected?" Martin finished for him, a sad sort of smile flitting across his face. "I know. No one was more surprised than me."
"You're all right?" he asked tentatively, that unsettling look of worry in his eyes again.
Martin shook his head, nearly laughing at the question. "No. Not in the least," he answered honestly. He paused for a moment and sighed. "But I'm…getting better," he added softly.
Victor nodded, both of them lapsing into silence again. Martin watched, seeing his father glance around the room, his eyes lingering here and there, and after a few moments, Martin could almost predict his next question.
"Is someone staying here with you?" he asked curiously, a little bit of the familiar patronizing attitude back in his voice. "Helping you…?"
And Martin was strangely comforted by this change in manner, because this was normal and expected, and this he knew how to deal with. Sighing, he nodded; knew there was no point in lying…Danny had random things lying all over the living room. "Danny is," he answered. "He's…an alcoholic. He understands," he added, trying to make it sound logical, simple. He didn't think mentioning the fact that he was pretty sure he was at least partially in love with Danny would go over well with his father. Although Martin had to wonder if his father already knew that he was gay. Over the years he'd stopped trying to hide it, never really admitting it to either of his parents, but no longer actively trying to keep it a secret.
However, if he did know he didn't press the issue, didn't ask any questions…and Martin was just as glad because he really didn't want to talk about it. At least not now. "Does mom know?" he asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from Danny.
Victor shook his head. "I haven't told her yet…didn't want to worry her. But I'll tell her when I go home, unless…Martin, I think she'd appreciate it if you told her yourself."
Martin nodded and ran his hand over his eyes, feeling guilty all of the sudden. He probably should have called already. But telling her that he was taking a leave of absence, that he was a drug addict…if he had told her, he'd have to tell his father, and he just hadn't been ready for that. "I will. I'll call her," he said softly.
Sighing, he looked up as they settled into yet another uncomfortable silence, something Martin was beginning to be quite annoyed by. "Are you staying in town long?"
"Are you still offering something to eat?" Victor asked at the same time.
Martin smiled wearily and nodded. "Sure."
They settled into something easy after that. Martin cooked hamburgers and French fries for dinner, which they ate in the living room while watching a football game on TV. It was easy because it required a minimal amount of talking. By the time it was over, Martin was exhausted – his energy level still quite low – and he said goodnight and goodbye to his father before climbing into bed, asking his dad to lock the door before he left. He was still going over the entire evening in his head by the time he fell asleep. He was just thankful that his dad was going to leave before Danny got back from work.
tbc...