"It's the end of the week," Greg suddenly spoke up out of the blue as the news ended and Letterman came on.

"Yeah, it is." I turned and gave him a questioning look. "So what? Is it a full moon and you're going to turn into a werewolf? What's the big deal?"

"I've been waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"You disappoint me, Jimmy."

"Would you mind letting me in on what the hell you're talking about?" I asked. "What have you been waiting for and why are you disappointed in me?"

What the hell have I done now, or was he just setting me up? This ought to be good.

"I've been waiting for The Lecture," he so gallantly informed me, as if it had been scheduled and I had forgotten all about it. "I've been waiting all week for you to corner me and spew all that nonsense of how I promised to go to rehab, how I need to go to rehab, how I'm going to let you and everyone else down if I don't. Gee whiz, I count on you to be the little angel on my shoulder and you have to go and decide to take a vacation without telling me."

"I'm an angel now? Your angel?" I puzzled, wondering what bizarre point he was trying to make this time. "Um...okay, I didn't know that. And I didn't know I was on vacation either. When did that happen?"

"This week. Haven't you been paying attention? Next time go the Bahamas like everyone else," he said. "So, Doctor Angel, where's my lecture? Is it going to be tough love or are you going to wrap it up all pretty in ruffles and bows?"

"I don't have one. I lost my lecture notes when I went on my surprise vacation."

"Why not? Who's going to keep me in line if you don't?"

"I hate to break this to you, Greg, but you still have one more day."

"I do? Well, I'll be damned..." He seemed to be genuinely surprised. I guess he wasn't keeping an accurate count of the days. Either that or he was messing with my head just for the sake of messing with it. One of the few things he loved more than Vicodin.

"Yes, you do," I replied, pleased with the fact that he had at least been thinking about it over the last few days. "Tomorrow, if you could check into rehab by the end of the day, that would be great."

"If only it were that easy," he said with a frown.

I frowned in return. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I hope you don't think that rehab is going to the magic cure-all for everything that ails me."

"I don't want you to change. I just want you to get the help you need."

"I'm not going to walk out of there as a brand new person," he went on as if he hadn't heard me. "I'm still going to crippled and in pain."

"Yes, you're crippled. Yes, you're in pain. But that's not the point here. I don't want a brand new you," I said. "I want a you that realizes you don't need the Vicodin to get by anymore."

He mulled over my words briefly, then said, "There's no one hundred percent guarantee in all of this, Jimmy. In case you haven't noticed, I've been putting it off."

Yes, he had. Any idiot could see that. He had been avoiding going to rehab. He had managed to avoid even saying the word 'rehab' over the last few days. Acting as if everything was just fine and dandy. Tomorrow would be another perfect day.

And suddenly I knew the reason why.

"What are you more afraid of," I began quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "relapsing or letting me down if you do relapse?"

He looked away, over my shoulder and past the sofa towards the bedroom, and I could see every bit of pain and worry and dread reflected in his eyes. "You've taken everything I've dished out and then some," Greg said. "You have to have a breaking point, and it's going to involve me one way or another. I know I need help, you know I need help, but what you don't seem to understand and what I know all too well is that needing help and wanting help are two very different things."

"You need to do this. It's not a matter of whether you want to or not," I said more tersely than I meant to, but he wasn't going to talk his way out of it. "No matter how overwhelming it might be, you have to go."

"Yeah, well, I'm aware of that," he replied absently. "I suppose I knew it would come to this sooner or later."

"It's come to this now, Greg."

"It's right in my face. It's blocking my view of everything else. And there's only one thing I can do to get rid of it."

"I'm glad you realize that," I said, patting his shoulder with more than a little affection. "I really am."

"Too bad the circumstances are what they are, huh? If I could hop in a time machine and do it all over again..."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a little suspicious of this conversation. "What would you do?" I asked.

He grinned slyly and said, "I'd still leave the thermometer up that son of a bitch's ass."