Chapter Ten

"What are you doing out here?" I hear from behind me and turn around briefly to see Sid standing there, out of breath from his late night jog. He lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and I get a quick glimpse of his fucking amazing abs. I'm going to need another drink…

"Um… duh… drinking…" I pour myself another shot and take the little glass between my clumsy fingers, tipping it gently against my lips. The first couple of shots burned as they went down but I am far beyond the point of having the ability to taste the alcohol, never mind feel it in my throat.

"Everyone is looking for you…" he explains, coming up to picnic table I am draped over.

"I am playing hide and go fuck yourself right now… I am winning…" I inform him and do my best to pour myself another shot. I think I got some in the glass… good enough anyway…

"Okay, I think you've probably had enough of that…" he declares, reaching out and pulling the glass out of my hands before it makes it to my lips. Ass.

"I think you're wrong…" I correct him. He can have the fucking glass… I still have the bottle… hehehe… can't fool me…

"And I'll take that too…" Sid easily removes the bottle from my fingers. Damn. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No! Give me back my tequila and leave me alone! Don't you have push ups or burpees to do?" I stand and reach for the bottle and stumble forward. So graceful, just like a ballerina! Tada!

"Nope, not even I do burpees at midnight… come on," He grabs my arm, throwing it over his shoulder, his hands are on my waist and then before I know it, I am upside down, over his shoulder. My head bobs and it makes me dizzy as he carries me away from my friend – the tequila bottle.

-.-

"Okay let's get these off…" I move to the end of the bed and pull one boot off at a time, tossing them to the corner of her room.

"Hey! Be careful with those… they were expensive!" She instructs me with a slur. I roll my eyes. Wow, I love drunk girls. They are so much fun. My biggest hope is that I get out of this room without drunk girl barf on me.

"Sorry… if you weren't plastered, you could take them off yourself…"

"I'm fine…" She insists trying to sit up in the bed but her elbow gives out and she falls right down with a thwhomp and a giggle.

"My ass, you're fine…" I attempt to lift her legs, to get her beneath her sheets but she kicks them away from me. It's sloppy and clumsy and I'm afraid she is going to kick me in the face.

"I am…" She giggles, as I grab her legs and swing her around on the bed.

"Mmmmhmmm…" I ignore her and tuck her in. I lace my fingers through her hair and gently lift her head just enough to slide a pillow underneath it. She wiggles into the pillow and I brush some hair out of her face. Her eyes are shut and she looks peaceful and beautiful... if she didn't wreak of booze, it would be hard for me not to feel something more right now.

"Anything else you need?" I ask her quietly.

"My pills…"

"Pills?" I look over at the bedside table and don't see anything.

"Top drawer…" her arm flops across the bed, pointing towards the drawer on the bedside table.

"Okay," I pull open the drawer and paw through a couple of books and hand creams to find a bottle of prescription pills. I try and read the label… Triazolam…"What are these? Sleeping pills?" I ask nervously.

"Give me!" she reaches for the jar but I pull them away quickly.

"Umm… I don't think I should do that… they say don't take with alcohol…" I read off the label.

"I need them…" She pouts and tries to reach for them again. I'm no doctor but I've heard of enough problems to know better then to let her have them.

"No, I think you'll be fine… you have enough booze in you…" I slide the bottle into my back pocket and then reach to tuck her arm back under the sheets.

"I need them to sleep… I can't without them…" she continues to protest.

"Well then, I guess you'll be awake all night 'cause I am not letting you have them…" There is no more argument here.

"You're an asshole! Give me my pills!" She hisses, the giggly drunk stage clearly over.

"No." I say firmly, stepping back from the side of bed. I realize that this argument is not going anywhere friendly and the best thing is probably that I leave. I'll track down one of the guys to come and check on her but I am far overstepping my place here.

I turn and head to the door as she crumples to the bed sobbing into her hands. I feel like the enemy here and I am not the enemy.

"You don't understand! You don't know what it's like…" She calls after me, as I reach the door.

"No, no I don't…" I pause and turn back around to face her. She has swung her feet out from beneath the blanket, tears are streaking down her pale cheeks and she looks so lost, so distraught that I can't just leave, like I know I should. "You could explain it to me..."

"I can't… I can't close my eyes… I can't see it… not again…" she sobs, her shoulders shaking.

"Okay, okay… shhh…" I take the couple steps and find myself in front of her again, pulling her up and in towards me, as she sobs into my shoulder. I lay my hand on the back of her head and smooth her hair, resting my chin on the side of her head. I am so out of my comfort zone here. I just let her cry cause I don't know what else I should say or do.

"Please…" she mutters into my chest and I can feel her hand creeping up my chest towards the pocket that I have stored the pills in. I reach up and grab her hand and pull it back down gently.

"No, I am sorry," I offer, barely above a whisper as another round of sobs escape her. "If something happened, it would be my fault and… I can't live with that…"

"No, no, no!" She begs, clinging to me and gathering the material of my shirt in her fists. I have to hold her up as her knees begin to give in on her.

"Come on… climb back into bed…" I direct her to back to her bed but she pulls away from me.

"NO!" she cries, shaking her head adamantly, as if I am asking her to jump off a cliff into a river filled with piranhas with me.

"Come on, it'll be okay… just lie down…" I do my best to assure her.

"I can't do it…" She continues to protest, pulling back from me, as I guide her back down to the pillows.

"You can and you will," I snap at her in a voice as I can only describe as my mother's. She looks at me like a deer in headlights, her eyes wide as plates, shocked that I would sound so forceful. I soften my voice and offer, "I'll stay until you fall asleep. I'll be right here, just lie down…"

"I don't want to…" she says softly, but I just shake my head and another wave of tears begin to fall over her cheeks.

"Okay, okay, shhhh…" I collect her into my arms and feel her press her wet face back into my shoulder. I let her cry for a minute, then press her back from my chest and scoop her up under her knees, placing her down on the mattress in front of us. I know I can't just leave her, so I kick off my shoes and climb in beside her, pulling the blanket up over both of us, as she nuzzles herself into the crock of my armpit.

"Come here. Shhhh… it'll be okay…" I comfort her as she continues to cry. My new plan is to stay until she falls asleep and then go find James or Mike. One of them should be in here with her, not me.

-.-

So last night, didn't go exactly as planned. Liz didn't fall asleep for hours, just cried and cried and cried. It was heart breaking. At some point both of us nodded off because I woke up early this morning with her still curled into my shoulder. My first instinct was to check the pill bottle in my pocket, to make sure she didn't get into it when I fell asleep but to my relief it was still securely in place.

I wiggled out from beneath her and tucked her beneath her blankets before slipping out of her room and back to mine. After a quick shower and change out of my gross sweaty and tear stained jogging clothes, I headed down to the dining room where the guys would have all been gathered for breakfast.

"Hey Mike," I approach from behind, finally noticing a second when he isn't surrounded by his bone head entourage. I wanted to make sure I got him at the right time because I am really worried about Liz and I know he is too. As much as we have our differences, I think he'll see I'm trying to do the right thing here. "I was hoping I could chat with you for a sec'…"

"What do you want?" he growls at me, sliding his breakfast tray into it's slot on the rack. Okay, maybe not. His response instantly makes me feel like I am making the wrong decision by trying to talk to him but I know deep down it's for the best.

"Hey come on man, this shit is getting old. I'm trying to help you out here," I try and appeal to the non-Flyer in him.

He pauses and I can see that he's trying to decide whether or not to believe me. "Fine. What's up?"

"Last night, I uh, found Liz down by the rink," I begin. "She was drinking – "

"She's an adult. She's allowed to drink," he snarks, probably still a little sensitive about the accusations of his own liquid lifestyle out in Philly. Personally, I don't doubt the stories but it's none of my business.

"She was drunk off her tree," I state.

"She's got a lot to deal with…"

"So drinking yourself stupid is the way to handle that?" I question him and then question myself. Why am I even trying to talk to this moron? Why am I even involved? It would be a hundred times easier to walk away and brush the problem under the carpet, like all these guys seem to do. Why can't I just walk away?

"Anyways, that's not the point," I waive off my question, knowing that I have to do this. "I took the booze away and everything and helped her up to her room –"

'You didn't fuck her did you? I'll fucking KILL you!" He practically jumps me, grabbing my shirt and pulling back his fist. So much for a discrete conversation, as some of the other guys in the room shift their attention to us.

"Whoa! No, I didn't fuck her! What the fuck is wrong with you?" I push him away from me fiercely. Maybe that's what he would do, but not me! "I took her to her room and made sure she was okay! What the fuck kinda creep do you think I am? Jesus!"

He takes a minute to compute what I just said before letting his fists unclenched – slightly. "So, what's the point? Why are you telling me?"

"Well, when I was tucking her in, she asked for these…" I reach into my pocket and pull out the prescription pill bottle I smuggled out of Liz's room last night. I am sure she will be missing them soon enough. I hand the bottle over to Richards, who turns the bottle around in his hand and reads the label.

"What's the big deal? What are they?" He asks with a confused expression.

"They are pretty strong sleeping pills. She wanted to take them last night. You can't mix them with alcohol," I explain. "I thought, you know, since you seem to be trying to take care of her or whatever, that you should know…"

Mike just stares down at the bottle blankly. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Maybe you could talk to her, make her realize it's not a good idea…" I suggest.

"What like she's my responsibility?" He snaps.

"No, I just thought – "

"You just thought that I have some sort of fucked up hero complex…"

"No, I just – " Well, this is going well.

"Listen, if Liz has to medicate herself to sleep through the night, who the fuck am I to say anything?" he hands me back the bottle of sleeping pills. "If you dealt with what she dealt with, you'd need some fucking pills to sleep too!"

"Yeah I get that but…"

"But what?" He hisses, cutting me off.

"But I thought you were trying to help her?"

"Help her? Yeah well… that's a joke. She won't let me help her…"

"Then why try?"

"Why? Why? Because I made a promise to a friend…" Mike semi-explains. He must see the confused look on my face, trying to figure out another piece of this clusterfuck puzzle, because he continues the explanation. "He called me a couple hours before he swallowed the bullet and made me promise… made me promise I'd take care of her. I should have known… I should have come down here and – " Mike stops, visibly choked up. Wow, that's the first time I have ever seen this guy show any emotion other then anger and rage – at least sober anyway.

"Hey man, it's not your fault… he was sick…" I offer, as if it's some sort of consolation.

"Whatever." He shrugs it off but I can tell that he's upset.

I can also tell there is nothing that I can say and chances are if I tried, he's just going to get mad at me… I don't really wanna get punched in the head in the off season. That might be hard to explain to the brain doctors so I let him walk away and leave me standing in the middle of the dining room holding a container of pills.