He was on one side of the bed and I was on the other. The only thing missing was a duct-tape border down the center.

We ate our sandwiches and chips and watched Wheel of Fortune, looking straight ahead, pretending not to notice the tension swirling like smoke in the room. We were putting off the inevitable shouting match yet to come, but at least we had a halfway decent excuse. Greg was honestly hungry, so I let him wolf down his reuben in relative peace. I was hungry as well and needed a decent meal to have the energy to argue with him.

"I want you to come back home," Greg said calmly after polishing off the last of his chips and clicking off the television.

That got my attention. "What for?"

"Do you need a reason? Do I? It's our apartment, remember?"

"In this case I do need a good reason," I said. "Tell me why I should even consider it."

"Because you're miserable in these hotels, you're miserable without me, and I'm miserable without you."

"Is that supposed to make me come running back home? That's not good enough."

"Why not? Like you said, misery loves company. There's no reason why we can't be miserable under the same roof."

All the anger and bitterness came flooding back. "If you're so miserable without me, why did you spend Christmas with a bottle of stolen pills instead of me?"

"And why did you leave me face-first in a puddle of my own puke while I was overdosing?" He looked at me for the first time since I walked in the door; his glare could have stripped the finish off a picnic table. "What a lovely Christmas present that was. Don't you even start your pathetic poor-little-put-upon victim act with me, Jimmy, because you know damn good and well I'm not going to buy it for a second."

"I got you a deal and you didn't take. Thank you very much for that Christmas present."

"You're quite welcome. How did it feel to sell your soul to Tritter?"

It took every last ounce of self-control to keep from punching him in the jaw. "I got you a deal and you still chose your so-called principles over me."

"You're going to throw that in my face every chance you get, aren't you?"

"Just like you're going to throw my making the deal in my face, Greg."

"You're right. If you're going to hang that over my head for the rest of eternity, maybe I don't want you to come home after all."

"Yeah, that's why you went out of your way to find me," I said blithely. "How did you know where I was staying?"

A knowing smile curled on his mouth. "I had you followed."

"What? Who the hell followed me?"

"He'd prefer to remain nameless. I promised I wouldn't divulge it. Seeing as how you're in a fighting and arguing mood, you'll probably run off and I'll have to hire him again."

I hadn't noticed anyone in the hallway while finding my room. "How did you know which room I was in?"

"A few well-placed greenbacks in the right hands got all the information I wanted."

I sighed and shook my head. Well, that explained why he was wearing just the tee shirt under his jacket. He knew exactly where I was because he hired a mystery man to shadow my every move. It never ceased to amaze how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted, and how he wasn't going to let me go that easily.

"I need to keep an eye on what's mine," he said, gloating over my reaction.

"Even if I sold my soul?"

"I was thinking maybe Tritter could put it to good use, but since he doesn't have a soul either he probably doesn't know what the hell to do with it."

"Greg, you're not really convincing me to come back home."

"Hmmm...you have a point there. Well then, I guess we'll just have to go about this from a different angle. How about this–it's your turn to convince me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Give me a reason why I should let you back into our apartment."

"Are you serious?"

"You better fucking believe I'm serious," he answered tersely. "Do I look like I'm the mood to play games right now?"

"No," I said. "No, you're little trick is not going to work. I'm not going to beg."

"I'm not asking you to beg," he replied solemnly. No humor or malice in his expression, just weariness and gloom. "I'm just asking you for a good reason."

"What's your definition of a good reason?" I had to ask.

"I'll know it when I hear it. Surely a man such as yourself, who wanted to do the right thing for me, had a very compelling reason or two for selling his soul. So tell me, what was it?"

Before I packed a suitcase and began to camp out at various hotels, we had been too busy screaming at each other about my supposed betrayal to have a real conversation. There was something I had been wanting to tell him. I never got the chance to get the words out because he would always cut me off. It didn't really have anything to do with 'selling my soul', as he so kindly put it. If I did sell my soul, I think what I was about to say bought it back. I wasn't sure if he would believe what I was about to tell him, but now that he was finally listening it was now or never.

"Back when the deal was still on the table," I began carefully, "I had a talk with Tritter."

"About what?" Apprehension spread across his face like ripples on water.

"About you. I was still holding out hope that you would take it. I knew you wouldn't, but I still had that hope. Anyway, I told Tritter I wasn't going to testify against you." Greg said nothing, just gaped at me with his jaw brushing against the blankets. "I wasn't going to testify and he couldn't make me. He said something about using my original statement, having me arrested for interfering with an investigation, and both of us ending up in jail. I told him that you were the better doctor and it would be better if I went to jail instead of you."

We stared at each other for a few minutes, frozen in place, neither of us willing to break the edgy silence, afraid that we would set off the spark that would make atmosphere around us go up in a fireball of unrestrained emotions. I watched, fascinated, as his expression changed; flowing seamlessly from unbelieving to accepting to resigned. He knew I was telling the truth and he could see it crystal clear. He hadn't known or expected that I was willing to go that far for him, and much to my own quiet, smug satisfaction, it blindsided him like a good backhand across the jaw.

Before I had a chance to gloat about my good deed and enjoy the hell out of it, Greg muttered, "Oh my God," and made a mad dash for the bathroom. A few seconds later I heard the sound of retching, followed by the toilet flushing and running water.

When he didn't come back out, I went to the bathroom and found him sitting on the edge of the bathtub, resting his head on the handle of his cane. I sat down next to him. He didn't look up.

"I want to go back home," I said quietly, "but I'm not going to if you're going to have me there just to watch you self-destruct."

The room was quiet for a few minutes, the only sound was a buzzing from the lights.

"I need some help," he finally confessed to the floor, unable to look me in the eye and admit his defeat, "and I need you there to help me."