Mike sat on the couch for a few minutes more after hanging up with Charlie. What a night so far. Briggs' request for the rum came back to him and he figured he'd better get on it in case his mentor woke up.

Getting up, he walked to where the liquor was kept and searched the large selection until he found the rum. Grabbing a glass, he headed back upstairs to Agent Briggs room. The dark haired man was still passed out practically face first in the pillow. Mike set the bottle down on the night table then took a harder looked at the sprawled agent. The back of Briggs' grey t-shirt was shredded and bore blood stains. At some point in the escapade, Briggs must have physically come in contact with something pretty rough on the pier. Moving his eyes to the front of the unconscious man, Mike noted a large tear and serious blood stains around the right shoulder area and a second large rip in the acid washed jeans on the upper thigh, again with telltale blood stains. 'Damn,' Warren thought. 'Those guys got Paul good before tossing him off the pier.'

Briggs was a mess and Mike again worried that maybe he should call 911. How much blood had the agent lost? Then, a Hector's cautionary note entered his mind; calling medical assistance to the house, could that burn it? No one had told him if that was a house rule. He knew no one but agents upstairs, no guns downstairs and he who eats Jakes' food does it at their own risk; but no one had told him what the rule was about a bleeding agent in the bedroom needing medical assistance. Luckily, before Mike could work himself into any more of a panic, the front door slammed shut.

"Mike!" Charlie yelled.

"Up here. Briggs' room."

Four sets of footsteps pounded up the stairs and they all tried to pile through the door at once. Charlie and Johnny made it thru first with Paige and Jakes bringing up the rear. Charlie ran around the bed to the unconscious agent's side and checked his pulse. "How long as he been like this Mike?"

Mike glanced down at his watch. "Maybe 25 minutes? But before that he was alert and conscious."

Paige and Jakes stood by the far side of the bed and watched as Charlie lightly ran her fingers over Briggs body. The man stirred slightly, moaning.

"Hey Paulie. Rise and shine."

Briggs slowly cracked open his eyes and tried to focus on the voice calling his name.

"That's it Babe. Open those sexy brown eyes for me." As Paul struggled back to consciousness, Charlie glanced over at Jakes. "Go get the first aid supplies." With a short nod of his braided head, Jakes left the room. Paige moved closer and gently stroked Paul's jet black curls. "Come on sleeping beauty," she cajoled.

Briggs regained full consciousness then shook his head slightly letting out a pain-filled groan. "Warren," he growled softly. "Where the #uck is that rum!"

Mike and Johnny, who were standing over by the fireplace, looked at each other silently agreeing to let Charlie take the lead. "Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked Briggs gently.

Struggling to sit up, the wounded agent did his best to intimidate his housemates. "Give me the god damn bottle!" he demanded eyeing the object of his desire on the nearby table. Charlie shrugged, uncapped the bottle and handed it to Paul who took a large swig, spilling some down the front of his torn shirt.

"There's a glass there," Mike pointed out helpfully. Briggs debated throwing the bottle at his smart-assed trainee but decided that he needed the rum in him more than on Mike; he'd get even later with the chore wheel.

Jakes returned to the room with the first aid kit and saw Briggs downing the rum like there was no tomorrow; the bottle was more than half empty already. "You shouldn't be doing that Briggs," Jakes pointed out as he walked around the bed. Jakes figured the only reason Briggs didn't give him the finger along with his string of imaginative curses, was Briggs couldn't move one arm and the other was busy holding the bottle. Jakes gave a little shrug and placed the first aid kit on the chair near the windows. "Hope you don't have a concussion."

Briggs took another drag from the bottle while Mike answered the non-question. "Agent Briggs was conscious the whole time until we got back to the house and then he passed out, probably from exhaustion."

"Thank you Dr. Mike. You have any real medical training kid? Besides what you read in a book?" Jakes asked sarcastically.

"Ah. No."

"Alright then. I guess I'll take it from here."

"Jakes went to medical school for a while," Paige explained to Mike.

"Another idol experience for the rich man's son," Johnny added which earned him the evil eye from Jakes. "Just saying Bro."

Jakes ignored Johnny and focused back on Briggs, who was rapidly getting on the south side of sober. "How are you feeling?"

Briggs gave him a tight smile. "Starting to feel no pain."

"Ah huh. Well that's going to change real soon," Jakes predicted as he eyed the man on the bed. "You're still bleeding," he pointed out.

"Huh. Where?" Briggs said without much interest as he took another swig.

"Don't know. Can't tell with all your clothes on but I'm pretty sure you're going to have use some heavy duty stain removers on that sheet," he noted and they all followed his eyes to the bright red spot spreading across the cream sheets.

"Huh," Briggs said again as he drained the last of the liquid from the bottle. A troubled frown creased his forehead. "Warren. Go find me another bottle of rum my man." Mike looked at Charlie who discreetly shook her head no.

"No."

The rest of the housemates cringed in disbelief and Charlie quickly grabbed the empty rum bottle from Briggs before he could throw it at Mike.

"Dude. You're not supposed to reply if you want to stay alive," Johnny advised Mike.

"Noted," Mike replied.

Jakes over rode the moment. "Come on Briggs. We gotta get those clothes off so I can see what we're dealing with here." He motioned Johnny and Mike over to provide assistance. Mike noticed that the girls made no move to leave the room and he looked questioningly at Johnny. "Should they, ah, stay here?" he asked delicately.

Johnny grinned at him and answered in a very non-discreet voice. "Why? Cause of the blood? Chicks are way better at handling blood then a lot of men. Or do you mean because we are about to strip Briggs naked?"

Mike cringed and Johnny shrugged. "No issue there either Bro. Charlie and Briggs have gotten it on, so no secret there; cost me a weeks' worth of bar tabs," he scowled at the parties in question and Briggs gave Charlie a sloppy wink.

"And I have seen Paul pad around the house in his tight, black, low-rise briefs. Doesn't take much to surmise what is in that package," Paige added suggestively.

"Hey Mike. May be it would be best if you kept your mouth shut for a bit. You are working on strike three," Johnny suggested.

Jakes had enough. "Charlie, move. Johnny, Mike, come help me sit him up again," since once deprived of his bottle, Briggs had laid back down. Charlie moved to the other side of the bed with Paige and the boys moved on either side of Paul and helped maneuver him upright. Once uprights emu-vertical, Jakes eyed the man with a bit of hesitation because Briggs clothes were stuck to his wounds. It was going to hurt when they tried to take them off. Sighing, he addressed the FBI guys again. "Stand him up. Let's get those jeans off first." Johnny and Mike got Briggs on his feet but had to keep a tight grip on him to stop him from toppling over. Putting the awkwardness of the situation behind him, Jakes reached over and undid Paul's black belt, unzipped his jeans and pulled them down his slim hips.

"Told you," Paige said to no one in particular as Paul's underwear choice came into view.

"Briggs, this will hurt as I pull your jeans over that wound in your thigh," Jakes warned the agent.

Briggs turned his head to stare at Mike. "Maybe it would hurt less if someone had gotten me another bottle of rum."

"You put any more rum in you, Paulie, and you'll suffer alcohol poisoning," Charlie replied.

While Briggs was somewhat distracted, Jakes eased the jeans over the wound and he knew Briggs felt it because the injured man's head whipped around to stare at him. Jakes ignored the 'if-looks-could-kill-glare' and instructed Briggs to step out of the jeans. That, in itself, was probably worth videoing and submitting to 'You Tube'. Briggs could not keep his balance enough to lift his feet so Johnny and Mike tried to assist him. However, they didn't coordinate their moves and both lifted Briggs feet at the same time causing the man to fall back on the bed. The guys looked at each other, shrugged and pulled his jeans off the rest of the way. Briggs was a bit dazed by the whole episode and was still trying to figure out who to yell at.

Jakes took the opportunity of confusion to take a closer look at the exposed wound on Briggs' thigh, not liking what he saw. "Alright. Let's get that shirt off next."

To get the shirt off, they'd have to get Briggs to raise both his arms and that would irritate the wound on the shoulder. Alternatively, they could try to pull the shirt from the lower back edge, up his back and over his head, but it was going to hurt when it broke loose from where it was dried to abrasions on Paul's back. The safest solution was to cut it off like they do in the hospital. "Paul, we're going to have to cut that shirt off you."

"My favorite shirt? Ut-ah."

Paige left to get a pair of sharp scissors leaving Charlie to convince Paul it was going to be OK. Moving around to the other side of the bed she placed her hands on either side of his bearded cheeks. "I promise Paulie. I will buy you another shirt that you will really like to replace this one."

Paul looked at her grinning mischievously. "Ok. You have good taste. After all you slept with me."

Charlie laughed and gave Briggs a light slap on the cheek. "See," Charlie addressed Mike as she lifted her head. "There are no secrets in Graceland."

Paige returned with the sheers and handed them to Jakes who moved Charlie out of the way and carefully cut Briggs free from his shirt. The shirt was really stuck and by the time Jakes got it off, Mike had learned a whole lot of new curse words in Spanish. By the time the last piece of the shirt fell to the floor Paul's complexion was looking like someone had added a lot more cream to the coffee. "Don't pass out on me Paul," Jakes warned. The pain from the shirt removal had sobered Briggs up a bit and he did his best to hold onto reality.

Now that he was nearly nude, the housemates got a good look at Briggs' wounds. Johnny summed it up best with a low whistle. "Man Briggs. They got you good with that blade. And what the hell happened to your back?"

"Pier. Lost my bearings and slammed into it."

"Rookie mistake Bro."

"Tell me about it."

"So those abrasions all over your back came from barnacles? High chance of infection from those suckers," Jakes commented. Briggs gave a little so-what shrug. "And those knife wounds. They should be stitched. I think Mike was right on this one Briggs. You need professional medical help."

Briggs voice grew hard and deadly cold. "No."

"How about one of those urgent care centers?" Jakes suggested.

"Let me make this very clear. No medical facility of any kind. Not even a #ucking doctor that makes house calls. You either patch me up or get the hell out of my room. All of you," Briggs snarled.

The housemates looked at each other uneasily before Jakes finally spoke. "I'll do what I can which is," he shook his head skeptically, "clean them out and bandage them. But it's going to hurt like hell and I have nothing to give you to take the edge off the pain."

Briggs involuntarily shuddered at Jakes' words. Pain killers were the last thing he needed no matter how bad he wanted them. He could not take the chance they'd cause an avalanche. He'd been good for awhile and he was determined not to get sucked back in, no matter what. He'd deal with the pain, he had too; there was no other choice given his problem.

Jakes ran his hands through his dread-locks. "OK then, into the shower Briggs. We have to flush those wounds." Briggs stood with a little help from Johnny, then made his way to the on-suite. Jakes turned to the rest of them. "This is really going to get ugly. Why don't you all go downstairs."

"I'm staying," Charlie said in a determined tone. "You're gonna need help with him. He always has my back; now I need to have his."

Jakes nodded as the rest of them filed out. "Let's do this," Charlie said resolutely as she marched into the bathroom.

Briggs suffered in relative silence through the water but could not stifle his screams when Jakes applied the disinfectant. Tears flowed down his cheeks and by the time Jakes had bandaged the last wound, Briggs was physically and mentally exhausted.

Jakes cleaned up all the medical waste then headed for his room needing to chill. Charlie stayed with Briggs, stroking his shower-damp dark curls. His pain-filled, heavily hooded eyes stared up at her and she couldn't bear it.

"Paul," she whispered. "I have Vicodin. It will help."

Briggs reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it so tight it was painful. "No."

"But…"

"No narcotics. Promise me Charlie. You can't let anyone give me anything," he pleaded with voice rough.

Looking into his eyes Charlie saw something she could not fathom, pure fear. "I promise Briggs."

Briggs gave a quick nod of acknowledgement and some of the tension drained from his body, enough to allow him to drift off to sleep. Charlie sat there stroking his hair letting her mind drain too; this had been more stressful than some of her worst busts.

Mike, Johnny and Paige stayed downstairs but the eerie silence after the tortured screams eventually made them quietly creep upstairs to see what was going on. They found both agents fast asleep on Briggs' bed, Charlie's hand resting protectively on Briggs. Paige gently shut the door and they headed for their own beds; it had been a long night for all.