With much coaxing, Randy talked Meg into taking the back seat, in part so he and Dave could talk without bothering her, and in part so she could stretch out comfortably and sleep while they drove. They hadn't decided where to go, which made Meg uncomfortable. What won her over was the promise that she could nix any place they stopped at, no questions asked. With that settled, Randy slid over to the passenger seat and Dave, after adjusting the driver's seat to accommodate his much shorter stature, prepared to drive.

Before Dave even put the key in the ignition, Randy had turned around, balled up his hoodie, and given it to Meg. "Pillow? Shitty substitute, but...better than nothing." Her smile was small but grateful as she accepted, smoothing out the cottony fabric before cuddling her face into it and breathing deeply. Randy winced; he knew he needed a shower, but Meg didn't seem to mind. The smile didn't leave her face, in any event.

Dave turned the engine over, and Randy watched Meg in the rearview mirror. Her body tensed, and she pressed herself back into the seat, digging her fingers into the fabric of the hoodie. Before Dave could even put the SUV into reverse, Randy had his hand on the gear shifter.

"You know...I can drive."

"Not a chance. I slept on the plane; you look like you haven't slept in days."

"Dave, really. I'm okay to drive." He shot a pointed, backward glance at Meg. Dave followed Randy's eyes, then raised his eyebrows, mouthing out 'What's wrong?' in response. Randy shrugged, but started to unbuckle his seatbelt in order to switch over.

"Guys. It's fine. Dave can drive." Meg's voice was small, but the decision was final. "Really." She swallowed down the quaver in her voice. "Let's just go." She bunched Randy's hoodie further in front of her face, praying they'd hear sincerity and not nervousness.

Dave and Randy shot each other concerned looks, but said nothing. Dave started the SUV, slid it into reverse, and ever-so-gently, backed out of the parking spot. Meg buried her face in Randy's hoodie so she didn't see the lights pass overhead, and tried to breathe deeply, to force her body to slow down somehow. 'He's right, he kinda does need a shower. But...it's not so bad. He's been worse.'

- "Jesus Christ, Randy, this is awful even for you. Have you let housekeeping in here since you checked in?"

He looked up at her from the floor, silent.

The room was pungent. The first thing Meg did was throw open the balcony doors for some air, snow be damned. She peeled the sheets and pillowcases off the bed; they smelled like sweat, sex, spilled beer, and a thousand other products of whatever else Randy had been up to in the week he'd been holed up in the room. The towels and washcloths came up next; every single one she touched rousted a cloud of mildew along with it. Cups, beer bottles, liquor bottles, plates, napkins, whatever leftover takeout was, well, left over – all went into the sole trash bag she could find.

"You're lucky I care about you as much as I do. This is going to involve one hell of a lie. At least you didn't break anything this time. Or have I just not found it yet?"

Meg lifted the receiver on the phone – sticky, of course – and dialed housekeeping. She asked for sheets, towels, toiletries, pillowcases, trash bags, extra washcloths, anything she could think of – and then said her friend had taken ill and hadn't realized the 'Do Not Disturb' tag had been on his door. Declining the offer for help cleaning the room, Meg explained she would take care of it herself, she was a nurse, there was no medical emergency, she simply wanted to change the sheets and save the staff the difficulty. Tip to be provided, of course.

"My wallet is by the TV. I think."

"No, it's not. You need to get up off the floor."

"So I can do what? You said my wallet's gone. I can't get dressed, I don't have clean clothes. I don't have clean sheets. I don't even have soap. Everything's fucked, Meg. Everything."

Housekeeping knocked at the door much faster than Meg expected, so she bit her tongue, pulled out her own wallet, and pressed two twenties into the maid's hands, accepting several stacks of linens and other items from her, blocking the door with her foot to prevent the woman from coming in. The maid shook her head as she left.

"Here's a start. You gonna get up and help me, or not?"

Randy slid himself up the wall with his legs, but his arms didn't want to cooperate with the rest of him, so Meg waved him off. "You fucked up your shoulders again, didn't you?"

He didn't say anything, just stood there, looking at her blankly.

"So you stayed in here for a week, letting it get worse?" Her tone was significantly more annoyed now than it was with the previous questions. "And now I get to clean up after your ring rat orgypalooza?"

"That was low."

Meg snapped the fitted sheet in place, grabbed Randy around the waist, kept him at arm's length – which did nothing to prevent his odor from wafting in her general direction, but at least mitigated some of it – and forcibly sat him down on the edge of the bed, putting her hands gently on top of his shoulders. "And now I just wrecked the sheets, because I know those are absolutely not clean boxers." She sighed. "Look. You can't keep doing this to yourself. I have no idea what it feels like to go through what you're going through, but nothing you're doing right now is making it better. Know how I know?" He looked up at her, silent, but not angry. "You keep doing it. If it actually solved your problem, you wouldn't need to keep going. You'd just be done."

Randy's eyes were empty. Sam wasn't there to fill them anymore, and nothing he tried to put in her place helped. Meg smiled gently and rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. "C'mon. They brought soap. Go get in the shower. You'll feel better. I'll finish your bed and you can sit around in a towel while I run stuff through hotel laundry. Then I can check your shoulders." She chuckled. "I might even be nice and shut the balcony." -

Once Meg finally stopped fighting it and let herself sleep, Randy stopped staring at her backwards in the mirror. 'Thank God, I was gonna throw up if I had to keep looking in reverse.' He took a few deep breaths to steady his stomach, and then turned to Dave, not daring anything more than a whisper. "Any ideas? She needs to eat, minimum."

"And we all need sleep."

"Okay, so, a hotel with room service and multiple beds."

"Yeah, and that's going to be so easy to do in a tourist city, in the evening, headed away from the airport, with three people, no reservations, and her having issues with everything. It's all going to remind her of Joe."

At the mention of his name, Randy involuntarily clenched his hands, a motion not lost on Dave.

"See? This is why I'm behind the wheel. You'd turn around right now and drive this through his living room."

"No. I'd drive it over him. Big difference."

Dave snorted. "Do something useful with your phone. Punch up a travel website and see what's available. Corporate was kind enough to throw me a black card and you a vacation-extension, on my way out the door. They were very serious about avoiding a scene with you, Joe, and Meg. I don't want to run up a huge tab, but if there's nothing else, there's nothing else. Don't go nuts, though."

Randy managed, after a lengthy search, to find a four-star with features they'd use and appreciate for a few days – private balconies, an in-suite kitchenette, locking separate rooms, 24-7 security and dining, and on-site laundry. And, shockingly, a decent rate, with the only catch being that there were no three-bed suites available. "Then...wake her up and ask her. We're right on top of this place; it wastes time to turn around if we pass it."

"Ran? Just book it." Meg murmured from the backseat. "Two beds still means I can sleep on a sofa."

He sighed, but pressed "Book Now" and punched in the numbers from the card. 'We'll see who sleeps on what, Meg. It won't be you, but we can talk about that later.' "You always did chime in at the worst times, Meg."

"Watch it, or I'll use my veto power. Now shut up and let me get back to sleep." She pressed herself back into his hoodie, but not before catching his eye in the mirror and smiling at him.

Randy smiled back, shaking his head. 'Whatever I did earlier...at least I didn't fuck up too bad. This is going to take practice.'