Finn looked at the two from across the room. He thought it best to give them some space, knowing there were things that needed to be said. He looked at his friend, a wave of nausea crashing over him. All he could think of was that day. It seemed like yesterday, but he knew better. He knew it had been nearly two weeks.

"Logan!" he called out, turning on the light to the apartment. He could smell the alcohol in the air. He should have known Logan would be drinking this early, it had been the case for a while now. "Come on man, you know we had plans today." He walked further into the apartment when he felt a crunch under his foot. Looking down, he saw he was stepping on broken glass. He looked around the room, a bottle of Jack sitting next to the wall half empty, broken glass strewn across the room, more empty bottles. What he didn't see was Logan, which worried him more than the empty bottles.

"Logan," he called out again as he walked into the bedroom. Logan was laying on the ground next to the bed, face down. A bottle of Ben Nevis laid next to him, empty. He knew Logan had most likely drank it in one sitting, which made him worry as he rolled him on his back. He could feel a pulse, but his breathing was shallow.

He pulled himself from the thoughts of that day, looking back at his two friends. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he saw a change in Logan. He was looking at her, leaning towards her with a small smile on his face. He wished they weren't in this building though. He wished their reunion was more than this, wasn't fueled by Logan's addictions. But Finn realized something. Logan was more addicted to Rory than anything else, and this was his hit of that drug. Finn would rather fuel his Rory addiction than let him drown himself in his others.

"Honor," he said shakily into the phone. He looked into the room, seeing the hospital staff emptying the contents of his friend's stomach. He could see them physically recoil, most likely from the stench of alcohol permeating the room. "It's Logan."

"What about Logan?" she asked. He had filled her in on her brother's drinking problems, but this was far beyond that. "Finn, what happened?" He couldn't bring himself to tell her. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he failed Logan, letting himself almost kill himself in an attempt to drown his pain.

"He's at Hartford Medical. I found him," he held back the emotions that threatened to pour out. "I found him unconscious. They're pumping his stomach. Honor, he's killing himself." She didn't respond, the phone line going dead. He sat in the waiting room for another hour before she ran in, Josh at her side. He could tell she'd been crying.

Rory stood from her position in front of him, moving to the chair next to him - the chair Finn had been sitting in just minutes before. Logan's legs were still bouncing, but his arms weren't folded across his chest. He was looking at her like she was his world, like nothing had changed in the past sixteen months. But everything had. He knew that and he knew Rory knew that, but he didn't know if Logan knew that. He didn't know if Logan understood everything that was going on.

He made his way into the apartment, looking around. Just hours earlier, he'd found Logan unconscious, now he was cleaning up. He thought back to all the times Logan had helped him into his own bed, had cleaned up after him, had helped him with his hangover. Their roles should be reversed, it should be him in that hospital bed, not Logan. He knew it would take a while to clean up this mess, to get this place somewhat decent.

Rather than delving into work right away, he sat on the couch and looked around. His eyes landed on the coffee table. There sat Logan's Black Card, something that never left his wallet unless he was spending it. He could see the white powder coating its edges. It took a minute before it finally clicked in his mind, his eyes moving a little further away from the card to the line of cocaine prepared on the table. A hundred dollar bill had been rolled and taped, sitting next to the line.

He mentally slapped himself. He should have seen this, he should have seen the signs. But he didn't, and he can't pretend that he did. He stood up, walking out of the apartment, out of Logan's personal Hell.

Rory finally stood, walking away from Logan and back to Finn. He looked between her and Logan, seeing a smile on his friend's face for the first time. "I see things went well," he said, hugging her.

"Yeah. I'm going to call Hugo and get him to get another reporter to cover the campaign trail. He needs me right now." In his head, he mocked her. She didn't know what Logan needed. Logan didn't even know what Logan needed, but he also knew that her being there would motivate Logan to get better. That's what mattered. "I told him I'd be back tomorrow."

"I'll tell Honor to approve you for the visitor list." She just smiled at him. He was glad she was back, but he felt like it was a matter of time before she left again. He wanted to protect his friend, but at what cost.

"You need help," he told Logan as soon as he stepped foot in the hospital room. "Cocaine, Huntz, really?" He was practically yelling. "I've stood by you with every stupid thing you ever did! But this… This has gone too far. Sinking the yacht, jumping off a cliff, those were things to make us feel alive, Logan! Cocaine is completely different!"

"How, Finn?" His voice was deadpan. He just looked at him, but not really. It felt more like Logan looking through him. "It's the same rush. It's the same feeling every time. The feeling of your heart racing, of thinking to yourself that this is what it means to be alive. Isn't that the point of everything we did at Yale? To feel alive?"

"It was the Life and Death Brigade, not the Trying to Kill Yourself Brigade! You're killing yourself, and I'm not going to stand by and watch anymore. You need help. Honor knows this, so we've set it up. As soon as you're out of here, you're going to rehab. You're going to get yourself straightened out." God, he needed a drink.

"Stop being so hypocritical, Finn. We all know you've been a borderline alcoholic for as long as we've known you." He knew he was right, but this wasn't the time to pick a fight. Instead, he walked out of the hospital room, not looking back.