"I just want this to be over!" Sebastian's cry pierces the still night.
"You want to pull that trigger?" Constable Braddock begins to establish a reality check with the troubled youth. "Do you know what actually happens when you do? I can tell you, Sebastian. I've seen it, I've felt it."
"Sam," Sergeant Parker cautions his officer. "We need to de-escalate, not hasten his decisions to go somewhere we can't afford to be. Scorpio isn't a necessity here."
Braddock acknowledges his boss's commands with a slight nod as he proceeds to impress the severity of the situation to the boy in front of him.
"I've felt it," Sam repeats. "You fall over into your own blood after becoming dizzy and lightheaded. What's worse is that bullets aren't so quick and easy. Even if you think you can raise that gun up to your head-"
Here Sam is very careful to stop himself and not to say that he doesn't believe Seb won't raise the gun for the fear of challenging him. Team One begins to tighten the perimeter as close as they can to contain the situation.
"I can't take it anymore, any of it, all of it. I'm done here," Sebastian says simply, effortlessly, as if this sentence is the only truth in the world.
Zack can't hear what is happening between his best friend and the SRU constable. All Zack knows is that he put a GPS locator on Seb's phone, he followed Seb to this forest after phoning in the police, who called the freakin' Strategic Response Unit...
I did the right thing. I did what had to be done to help my friend, even if it means he'll never want to speak with me again...Oh, god, what if he never speaks again because...? No, that won't happen, it can't happen. These guys are trained, they can help, then why do they look so nervous?
Zack begins to stand up and attempts to move away from the medic treating him before he realizes there is an IV drip going into his arm. Saline solution. The medic must've put that in while I was distracted.
"Really, I'm okay," Zack protests. "I just need to go see my friend."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Adams, you have to stay here. Your friend will be joining us soon," the medic says while placing his hand over the boy's arm, reminding him of the condition he's in. "I know this is hard. Please try to relax and rest." Steve remains by Zack's side, acting as the boy's temporary guardian and waiting for another to care for.
"Look at Zack. Look at your friend. He came out here to help you, and if he can't he'll feel the same as you -upset, confused, full of guilt. He will stand on the ground that you stand on now, questioning himself over and over again, wondering where he went wrong. I know you think that having me and my team here is another burden you placed on yourself and an inconvenience to everyone around you. Sebastian, that's not true. We came here to help, Sebastian, because we care about you." Sam steps just inches away from the gun that's firmly held in the hand of a young man who has no business holding it.
Come on. I believe in you, Sebastian, I know you can do this. Please, I'm standing here in front of you, waiting for you. Please, give me the gun. Let me lift this burden from you. I may not be able to lift all the weight of the world off your shoulders, but I can do this. Once we get past this, we can get through anything. I promise.
Sebastian gives the constable a once-over before letting out a scream of raw pain. He's broken, he's aching, his body is shaking uncontrollably. The tears have stopped running their course from eyes to cheeks, but the sweat is visibly pouring out of his body despite the cold temperature. The desperate urge, the need to collapse on the forest floor and give in to his mind is more persistent than the blood barely pumping through Sebastian's veins. His eyes rove across his surroundings, quickly settling on Zack's face so close yet so far away.
Sebastian turned the light off, the blinds shut and pulled all the way down. In one hand rested the bottle of extra strength acetaminophen his father had bought the previous week. In the other, a bottle of scotch held loosely around the neck. With his father at a business conference and his mother still at work, Sebastian didn't bother to think about locking his bedroom door. He paced back and forth, filled with angst and confusion. The words waged war in his mind, saying 'you can fight this!' and 'give it up!' He took a deep swig of the scotch and threw the bottle of pills against the wall in frustration. Damn it! Silent tears began to leak from his eyes as he gritted his teeth.
Sebastian crossed the room and stopped at his bed to pick up his phone. Scrolled through the contacts list, realized that although there were many names on the list, there were none who could help him now. Sebastian's tears had formed an ocean, surrounding and drowning him. A scream escaped his lips, then another, and another until he couldn't handle the sound of his own voice anymore. He picked up the pill bottle, popped the cap, and poured the pills into his palm. Tossed a dozen or so down with the alcohol and waited. Left the open bottle on the bed, sat on the floor and continued to drink. The scotch burned the lump in his throat where the pills had been temporarily stuck as the room began to turn...
"Sebastian? Seb, can you hear me?"
"Ma'am, I need you to step away from your son. We need to get him to the ER, get his stomach pumped."
"BP's 60 over 50."
"Sebastian?!"
"Sebastian," Sam tries again. The youth had stared into space for a moment while the constable's sergeant gave him some more information. Winnie had called both sets of parents to the Strategic Response Unit's headquarters and had accessed the medical records. Sebastian's information didn't make much sense; although he had tried to achieve 'the deep sleep', he expressed extreme guilt and regret afterwards. While Sebastian neither confirmed nor denied what had occurred, his mother vehemently insisted it was indeed an accident. The boy confused his sports drink for the bottle of scotch on the counter, his headache aided his forgetfulness and he simply took a few too many acetaminophen. When asked whether or not Sebastian knew of anyone with a gun, she shook her head. Her husband turned pale and said one word: "Matt." Wordy completed his visit with Matthew Quinn and had a cruiser drive him to the SRU while he headed back to the forest.
The teenager remains rooted in place, teary-eyed and trembling. I can't. I can't give him the gun. If I do that, I have to go back. I can't do that. I can't stay here. Why is everyone still here? Why didn't they lead Zack away, have him forget he ever knew me?
"I know about Kevin-"
"Don't say his name!" Sebastian responds, much to everyone's relief.
"-and I know about what happened to you last year. You're right, I can't imagine what that must have been like. I do know that losing your friend is painful, and losing him the way you did," Sam shakes his head, "no one should ever have to go through pain like that. What I do know is that you are alive, Sebastian."
"I'm just deadweight," the teenager responds sluggishly. The lack of nutrients in his system, the lack of sleep and the abundance of despair are becoming too much for his body to handle.
"I know you feel that way-"
"What? You're going to tell me that what I'm feeling is wrong? You said it yourself, you don't understand," Sebastian says, dejected.
"I understand what it feels like to be trapped in your own mind," Sam says, leading Sebastian to look up at him. "I really do, and that's why I am here. I want you to let your hand be free from that weapon and I want to help you however I can. I believe in you, and I know that this can't be easy, but it can be harder not to try. Stay with me, Sebastian. These feelings, what you are experiencing right now, I need you to know that they are okay. The feelings aren't going to disappear in an instant. It's going to be a rough journey to take, and I have faith that you can make it. You can fight through this. Look at me, Seb. You can always keep fighting." There is a moment of still silence before Sebastian ventures a response.
"Okay?" Sebastian hesitates. How is any of this okay? I'm standing in the forest at night, holding my uncle's gun, surrounded by some kind of SWAT team while my best friend is sitting on the back of an ambulance and this is all my fault and I can't go back I can't go back I can't
Sebastian's head is pounding, his legs are on the verge of collapsing no, can't fall down, can't go back to them, can't go back there and suddenly, the Colt drops to the ground. It is almost like Sebastian is merely an observer of this scene; he stands his ground with a dazed look on his face. Sam doesn't make a move to pick up the weapon, instead he stretches his open arms to Sebastian's free hands. At this gesture, something clicks in his Sebastian's mind and he stumbles into Sam's embrace.
"It's okay, Sebastian. It's okay, I promise," Sam tells the tired youth. Steve gets the go-ahead to move, and rushes to Sebastian with a stretcher and his bag. Throughout the checkup, Sebastian's tired fingers refuse to leave Constable Braddock's sleeve. The sleeve is his anchor, his lifeline.
"Thank you," Sebastian whispers through his tears. Thank you for my life.