George sat next to her brother's bed, biting her fingernails, a childhood habit that she picked up again just recently. Her mind was a jumbled jigsaw and she prayed for someone to come along and help her sort out the pieces. Unfortunately, the people she would normally turn to in a situation like these are all either absent, busy or have disappeared.

Her younger sister, Nic, was a lost cause. the last time George had seen her was when they were in Egypt and Nic fired several round from a stolen gun into the lifeless body of her boyfriend turned Death Eater spy. This, subsequently, meant that their mother was busy with her work at the Ministry, as she directed the mission to find the murderer of Dermot O'Brien, little did she believe it was her youngest daughter.

Her twin brother, Chase, was lying in the bed in front of her. His body motionless as observations were run constantly through tubes and wires. He looked weak and feeble as the Dark curses writhed through his veins now, the scars from Rose's jinx clearly visible on his chest, and the Healers didn't know if he was going to be the same again.

Her boyfriend, Jack, was at their flat probably, relaxing after a hard days work doing his duties at Hogwarts. She knew he couldn't leave, they both did. Dumbledore trusted him, and the Headmaster can't afford to lose another staff member, especially as that girl had just died.

It was now that she realised that someone held out a polystyrene cup of hot coffee out in front of her. George looked up, pleased to see one of her colleagues and old friends from before her accident when they attended Healer Academy together (although George had to be reminded of that). Lionel sat down beside her, pulling up a chair, as George took the extra coffee.

"Though you might want one. You've been here ages." He said quietly.

George smiled at him, "Yes thank you,"

Lionel was a tall, blonde, twenty three year old, Top Consulting Healer. He had taken on Chase's case as a personal favour for George, and was one of the Healers behind the research to get George to wake up when she was in her coma. He felt inclined to look after her after that, and thus, when she came down to London to overview Chase as a bystander, Lionel offered her a place to stay. She refused, having got a room at the Leaky Cauldron. However Lionel always kept a look out for her, some would call it a 'soft-spot' but some would say it was more animalistic then that.

"You should get some sleep. Go home and rest." He said to her as she yawned over the top of her cup.

George shook her head, "My home is in Scotland, Lionel, you know I don't like to apparate, especially when I'm tired"

"Poor lass," was all he said in return, before taking a sip of coffee. He picked up Chase's notes at the side of the bed, looked them over before turning back to George, "When did your shift end?"

"About four hours ago," George said was a sigh, "But I can't leave him. He barely left me when I was in this state, and that was when he had a club and a daughter to look after."

Lionel nodded, "I remember," He placed a hand on her shoulder in sympathy, "My flat is not too far away, and my shift is almost over. You're more then welcome to use it for a sleep before coming back here."

George, again, shook her hand, though didn't shrug his hand away. For a moment, she liked it. It reminded her of Jack's touches. "No I'm fine, but thanks,"

"You sure?" He asked.

"I'm sure," George reaffirmed, but liked the squeeze of her shoulder she was given.

"Even if I make up a nachos plate, like the old days?"

George saw his raised eyebrow, "Fine, you've won me over with mexican, and only because of the mexican"

---

An empty nachos plate lay on the coffee table as the two old college friends chatted away on the sofa. It seemed that once they were out of the Hospital environment, George felt more relaxed, especially as Lionel didn't know about the burden those select few carried about what happened in Egypt.

Lionel got up and walked over to his drinks cabinet, "Want a night cap?" He offered, holding up a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"No thank you," George politely refused. She didn't like to drink. Her condition meant that any drugs have multiple effects on her. For instance, one drink would make her drunk and sleep. Which in itself could be dangerous for she could fall into a deep sleep again. "You know I don't drink,"

"Ah yes, but as I Healer I would be here if necessary. Plus, you're a lot better then you were." He walked over regardless with the bottle in hand and two glass tumblers. "Go on, I'll look after you"

"I shouldn't"

"But could..."

"No," She argued affirmatively, "I can't" Jack would kill her.

"Who's stopping you?"

George was about to say Jack, her parents, her siblings. But then it came to her. She was alone. None of those persons were present or able to stop her. She had been having a crappy day, week, month. Her thoughts were confused. Her sister was missing, in a few weeks she'll be presumed dead. Jack's absence was taking it's toll. She was aching to see him again, but couldn't quite get the courage to leave Chase and his unknown condition. He'll be a completely different man when he wakes up, and that was another complication of her life.

The answer to Lionel's question was, "No one is." It felt weird to admit it, she was free from the slightly judgemental close knit Bauer family for one moment. "Go on then, I'll have just the one"

Lionel let out a laugh; "Now there's the George Bauer I remember,"

George just grinned as they clinked their glasses. She brought the glass to her lips and downed the entire two-finger measure whole, before slamming her glass on the coffee table. She felt liberated as she felt the effects of the alcohol quickly in her body and mind.

Her and Lionel downed a few more until a good two thirds of the Firewhiskey bottle had disappeared and before George could register what was happening, Lionel's hand was on her thigh. She didn't resist. Jack did that. She'd always liked that. She missed Jack too much. She wished he had more time to come down and see her. Next thing she noticed, Lionel's other hand was stroking her face. Again, George did not protest, and maybe even moved closer towards him. She didn't have control of herself anymore. Everything Lionel was doing felt so good, as he began to kiss her neck, but it was wrong. Her mind knew it, but her body wanted more. It was the alcohol. She was drunk, she hadn't been this intoxicated in a long time, and she never allowed herself to be for fear of long term effects.

But now she wasn't fighting. There was no one stopping her. It was liberating and, to be frank, all she thought was; Fuck it.