SLIPPERY SLOPE — PART 4

When Alicia woke, the sun had already started its ascent up the skyline, and she bounded out of bed in a slight panic. Why hadn't Troy woken her for her shift? Had he been prevented from doing so? Had something happened to him and Nick?

All questions that were answered once she darted for her brother's bedroom to find them both sound asleep.

She moved to turn the television set off and, as always, checked Nick's pulse. It was strong and steady, which was good, and she assumed the reason he was still asleep and not writhing in agony meant Troy had given him another dose of Oxy.

Nature was calling, so Alicia headed for the bathroom to tend to those needs and to help herself to one of the unopened packets of toothbrushes she had noticed the day before. Even brushing your teeth was a luxury these days.

She was in the middle of said process when her gaze fell on an empty syringe on the floor. She paused and bent down to pick it up, even though she knew exactly what it was and what it had contained. A mixture of anger and fear clenched at her heart, at Nick for taking such risks with his life, and with Troy for allowing him to do so. But it faded quickly. It wasn't either of their faults. Not really. It was just an all-round shitty situation and all their options sucked. She threw the syringe away in the half-empty bin.

She didn't immediately go to wake Troy, allowing him another few minutes of rest, assuming he needed it if he was to go through with his plan of casing out the town. Instead, she made her way downstairs, checking the outside of the house from every window to make sure they hadn't been surrounded by the dead in the night, and to grab something to drink.

She came to a sudden halt in the kitchen, however, when she spotted someone shuffling around the backyard. It was a dead woman, and she appeared to be alone, but the hedges shielding this house from the next didn't allow her the best view.

In the past, she wouldn't have hesitated to take the infected out on her own, but in light of recent events, of Nick having been snatched and people so willing to set traps for them, she didn't want to risk it.

She headed back upstairs and put a hand on Troy's shoulder to rouse him, her voice calm so to not wake Nick should he be able to hear them.

"Troy? There's an infected outside. Watch my back while I take her out?"

Troy started as something brushed his shoulder and skyrocketed him out of the abyss of slumber, eyes snapping open in immediate alert, tiredness a thing of the past.

He could remember watching of the movie, listening to Nick's breathing and sometimes checking his pulse to make sure he didn't accidentally kill himself, and then nothing.

Troy swiped at his eyes when he recognized the person hovering over him, her voice low enough to be heard despite the fact that he'd only just woken up.

He looked around and scowled when he noticed that there was sunlight trying to sneak through the curtains. How could he have fallen asleep? That was so unlike him!

He raised himself up on his elbows, nodded, and slowly pushed off the floor, stretching the kinks from his neck as he quietly followed Alicia out of the bedroom and downstairs to take care of the problem.

Back downstairs with a sleepy Troy in tow, Alicia pulled her knife from her boot and opened the backdoor. The infected was still out there and her attention turned to Alicia as soon as she stepped outside, shuffling towards the girl with a groan, teeth snapping, arms outstretched. Alicia gave her a swift kick to the knee, sending her down on the ground before bracing her hand against the dead's throat, and drove her knife into the corpse's temple. She stilled.

Alicia pulled back and waited, listening for any potential stragglers that might be hiding in the shrubberies. But there was nothing. She headed back inside and rinsed her knife, leaving Troy to close the door behind her.

Troy perched himself against the open doorway, yawning as he watched her wander outside to take her early morning aggravation out on the dead. Part of him admired her style while another envied the kill.

When she was done, he shut the door behind her, slipping her ornament thing back into place where it had hooked in the top of the door and studied her while she rinsed her knife.

"What's with the audience? Didn't think you could dust her alone, Buffy?"

She didn't look up, continuing to wash the blood off her knife until it was clean again and she could dry it on a dishtowel. "Her, yeah. But if there had been more, or if someone led her here to lure us out, maybe not. I'd rather not get snatched again, or put us all in unnecessary danger." She slipped the knife back in her boot and met Troy's gaze. "Considering everything that's happened the past few weeks, we should be more careful." She opened the fridge and helped herself to a can of soda, starting to make her way back upstairs to Nick.

"You're not wrong," he retorted, happy that he wasn't the one that had to come up with that condition for the two of them. Despite Nick's injuries Troy didn't think he'd be cool with it – especially with his views on crazy lady's motives.

Troy watched her head to the stairs and then went in search of some breakfast goods, coming up with cornflakes and powdered milk that only needed a bit of water. He mixed up the concoction, tasted it to make sure it was decent and then threw it all together in a bowl for himself before heading upstairs.

Alicia took a sip of her soda and set it down on the nightstand, climbing onto the empty side of Nick's bed with the intention to check and change on his wound again. Only now, he seemed much paler than before, and it was hard to see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Her fingers pressed to the inside of his wrist, searching for his pulse. She found it okay, but it was weaker than when she'd last checked on him. "Nick?" she said calmly, though on the inside she was anything but. "Nick, can you hear me?" She touched his face, gently patting at one cheek to try and wake him.

When Troy stepped into the bedroom again, Alicia was busy tending to Nick and trying to get him to wake up. "Everything okay?"

Nick didn't wake, didn't even respond to her attempts at making him move. She leaned over him, her hand hovering over his nose and mouth to feel for his exhales. Barely there.

"He's not breathing right," she said in response to Troy's question, carefully cradling her brother's head with one arm and removing the pillows with the other, putting him back on the flat surface of the mattress. "How long since you gave him the Oxy?"

Troy glanced at the sunlight outside and then at the watch that had been glued to his wrist since the day he turned thirteen, one of the first adult gifts Jake had gotten him. It was waterproof, glowed in the dark and was scratched beyond repair. Still, he loved it. "Before midnight, so seven or eight hours at best? But I checked him throughout the night and he seemed fine, I'd have heard him if he helped himself to more…"

He moved to the other side of the bed where his old noodle bowl still sat and slipped his current bowl into it, the spare and dirty spoon slipping free of it to clatter onto the wood.

"He didn't swallow it, he refused and spent twenty minutes throwing some junkie thing together for himself. Is it that?"

"Maybe," she said, her fingers moving to open Nick's mouth so she could peer inside, make sure nothing was blocking his airways. "It's one of the dangers. Opioids always slow your breathing. But not this much. Not unless he's ODing."

But then, that would have happened sooner. Right? If it was seven hours since he shot up, the effects would have been noticeable sooner. But what if she was wrong? She could be wrong.

With one palm on Nick's forehead, and her other hand under his chin, she gently tilted his head back to ensure his airways would be as clear as possible. "I need you to keep track of his pulse. Let me know if anything changes."

Troy climbed onto the mattress and took a hold of his wrist, pressing two fingers to his pulse point in the only way he knew how, and concentrated on his heartbeat. "Seems to be steady," he said after a minute's silence. The next time he broke in at a hospital he'd have to make a point of taking a stethoscope.

While Troy indulged her request, Alicia started to give Nick mouth to mouth, slow and steady, one breath every five or six seconds. She didn't know if it would help, but it was the only way she could get oxygen into him at the moment. At a hospital, they would have used an oxygen mask, but they didn't have the luxury and probably wouldn't ever again. She gave a brief nod in acknowledgment of the information Troy gave, gesturing he continue. It was all they could do.

The fact that she was giving him mouth to mouth and his heart hadn't stopped was something Troy'd never seen before but he didn't question her reasoning. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Nick's heartbeat. There was a touch of chance, a fleeting stutter he couldn't disconcert at first and eventually became more prominent. "I think it's getting a bit faster."

"Think or know?" she asked in between breaths, continuing to give a steady flow of oxygen to her brother, keeping an eye on the rise and fall of his chest.

A cough erupted from the depth of Nick's chest, bringing up more pain that blared in his side and stole his breath. He gasped for air, almost passing out again when his head responded with a vengeance of its own. His temples went ablaze like firecrackers, sending a bout of nausea to the base of his throat.

Troy kept his eyes closed and waited a few more beats and then confirmed his earlier suspicions, something Nick back up with a sudden cough. "Know," Troy added anyway, opening his eyes keeping a firm hold of his wrist, unwilling to let go until she told him otherwise.

Alicia pulled away as soon as she felt Nick respond, keeping a hand lightly atop his chest to ensure he wouldn't bolt out of bed in a panic. She waited until he stopped coughing, winced as she watched him gasp, and finally spoke. "It's okay. Try to stay calm and just breathe."

Nick cracked his eyes open and saw flashes of red and white, barely heard Alicia through the ringing in his ears. He tried to do as he thought she said – breathe. His heart was thudding hard against his ribcage and inside his skull like a hell bell. "Wha— What… happened?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"The Oxy," she said, relieved beyond belief that he was awake and conscious for now. "You almost stopped breathing."

The pounding in his head made it hard to perceive what she said, especially since it made little sense to him. It couldn't be that. It was a small dose for someone with his tolerance. He shook his head. "It's not that… It's a number… of other things… The wound, no food, vomiting… dehydration… My head is busting… feels like my pressure dropped."

She was sure all factors played their part but also knew from experience Oxy could have this effect on people. Didn't matter if they were used to the substance or not. But she saw no point in arguing with him at this moment. "I'll get you on some more fluids. Glucose this time. It will nourish your body. Unless you feel up to eating?"

Nick couldn't keep his eyes open, anymore. His head was killing him along with his side strained by the earlier. He felt the withdrawal pains oozing back into his bones. "I'll need more Oxy, too. Starting to hurt. And that migraine…"

She didn't immediately address that particular need, instead moving to the hallway to find the IV equipment. Back in the room, she nudged Troy aside so she could take his place. "Could you grab the hammer and nails from downstairs?"

Troy practically ran downstairs, returning a few minutes later with the hammer she'd left on the counter and the few accompanying nails. "I'm assuming you're trying to make a crude stand? Should I hammer in a few nails above his head?"

"Please," she said, grateful Troy was following her train of thought.

While they got busy, Nick hoisted himself into a sitting position, waited out a vertigo attack, then got to his feet and started for the bathroom.

Alicia opened a new butterfly needle, flushed through the extension tube with a syringe filled with saltwater, and followed Nick with her gaze as he dragged himself out.

Inside, he braced himself against the basin's sides, eyes shut and head swimming. Blood was flushing in his ears like ocean waves. Eventually, he dashed for the toilet and vomited a bit of water with bile and some blood. The wound wasn't letting him have it easier just yet.

He urinated, flushed, then drank a few handfuls of cold water, splashing some in his face. He was hot and shivering. Fever and pain were back.

He snuck two more pills from the bottle, returned it to the back of the drawer, washed them down with two handfuls of water and turned off the taps. Drawing in a deeper breath, he started his way back.

He was in there for what felt like an eternity, but considering his current condition Alicia couldn't blame him for that. She'd checked the medicine cabinet, though, hadn't she? Made sure there was nothing there he'd want? She thought she had.

She moved the equipment out of the way so Nick wouldn't have to climb over it on his way back to bed, eyeing the bandages at his side. They hadn't bled through this time and that was progress. They still needed to be changed, though.

Troy had followed Nick with his eyes, thinking to tell her that that was where he kept running to last night for privacy and that it was sketchy. Troy set the nail against the wall and measured the alignment to where it should hang with his eyes, and quickly set to work, leaving just enough space for her to hook the baggy over the hook provided. He hooked a finger around the nail, tugged to check that it could take the weight from the bag and wouldn't pop out of the wall, and then set aside the tools out of the way as Nick returned from his trip to the bathroom. "Done."

Not that it wasn't obvious, but Alicia probably had a lot that she was going through in her head.

Nick pressed his fingers to his temples as if it would stave off the pain thundering there. It made him sick to just think of moving, but he proceeded to lie down slowly, nonetheless. He held his breath until the sickness eased up, then released it gingerly. The world was spinning around him when he closed his eyes. Like after a hell of a party.

Alicia waited until Nick had passed through whatever new agony was attacking him, before gently taking his arm in her hand, searching for that vein in the crease of his elbow. As always it took some time but she managed. She taped the butterfly in place and hooked him up, lifting the bag to hang it from the nail Troy had fixed in the wall, so she could adjust the valves to the correct speed and amount.

She sat back down on the side of the bed once she finished, examining Nick's face, carefully lifting one of his eyelids to check how his pupils responded to the light. They were tiny, the exact opposite of what hers had been at the night of her peyote adventures.

"How much Oxy did you give him?" she asked Troy cautiously.

"I only gave him one. He didn't take it normally though, he crushed it and then injected it into his bloodstream – the exact thing you warned me about. He wouldn't listen to reason though and I don't suppose he could stomach anything anyway. Why? Is he having a reaction or something?"

"It's like I'm back home with mom," Nick muttered, both physically and emotionally disgusted. "It's not Oxy, it's all at once. I told you already. Before I get over the withdrawals, I can't eat, and that, plus the wound and dehydration makes my pressure drop unexpectedly."

It didn't make sense to Alicia because the way Nick's body was reacting, it was though he had taken a higher dosage.

Nick's comment hurt like a slap to the face. "I'm doing my best, Nick," she said quietly. "You were close to a respiratory arrest just now, and I don't have the equipment or skills to bring you back from the verge of death. So I'm allowed to be worried."

And he knew as well as she did the consequences of Oxy-abuse were just that – trouble breathing and potential death. He could deny it as much as he wanted, blame it on everything else, but it didn't change the truth.

"Ditto. We're both worried," Troy muttered to back up Alicia. He hadn't liked his over excessive use at the arena but he was guessing what he'd seen there had been a surface scratch. Troy barely knew what to make of this particular issue. Was Nick doing this to himself or was it the injuries he'd sustained? Troy wasn't understanding anything of what was going or what Alicia was even trying to prevent and how she was even doing what she was doing. He barely even knew what to do.

"Should I find a hospital and hunt for one of those panel things—defibrillator!" he asked, having blanked on the name and remembered simultaneously.

"Oh for Christ's sake!" Nick groaned, wincing at the migraine jolt punishing him for it. "Stop running to hospitals and trying to poke me with new things. You're more likely to finish me off with that much worry."

Troy's offer was generous, but somewhat misplaced. Alicia didn't have the time to tell him it wasn't so much Nick's heart she worried about as his oxygen levels, as Nick once more shot down their attempts at helping.

She lingered a moment, considering her brother, then shrugged. "Alright." She got to her feet and made sure the IV bag was dripping as it was supposed to before heading for the door and the stairs. "Gonna grab some breakfast."

Nick's outburst wasn't all that unexpected. He was so tightly wound that trying to tell him anything was like pulling teeth. Troy glanced at Alicia as she left, assuming that they'd done all that they could and that whatever she was concerned had passed or maybe she'd given up?

That didn't seem like her though, not if Troy was to take into consideration everything he'd witnessed over the last few weeks and what he'd come to know about her and her love for her brother.

"Why are you being such a dick, Nick? We're trying to help you and you're doing nothing to make that easy."

"Neither of you can get in my skin to find out how little of what you do feels like help."

"No, we can't, neither of us are witches but treating us like idiots doesn't help either. Stop acting like we're trying to parent you, we're not – I'm not – and far as I can tell neither is she," Troy started down at him, wondering if he was actually absorbing anything Troy had to say. "You realize that ten minutes ago she was giving you mouth to mouth? I don't know about you and your view on that particular matter, but that's pretty fucking serious in the grand scheme of medical intervention."

He let Nick think that over and walked back to the other side of the bed, picking up his cornflakes, wrinkling his nose with distaste at how soggy they were.

Beggars couldn't be choosers.

He heaped a spoonful and gradually began to stuff his face.

Nick heaved a sigh, yearning to pass out already. The damn IV felt like hot water streaming through his already hot body. It was impossible to distract himself from it. "Have you ever been in constant pain for days, when all that changed was the intensity: from unbearable to impossible and all in-between? If I sound like a dick to you, it's not because I am or like to be. It's because I can't do better."

"No one expects you to be Mary Sunshine but you've warped into a frustrating jackass," Troy stated, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand to get rid of any stray milk. "I don't know if she feels like I do but after last night it feels like you're going out of your way to work against us and everything we're trying to do, like you don't want to be better. You might see yourself as the Gandhi of the drug world, Nick, but you aren't in a position to play like you were at the arena. You know that, this isn't news to you, so stop trying to pretend that we're out to get you and baby you into the next life. No one here is trying to repeat whatever childhood trauma Madison hit you with."

In the kitchen, Alicia took her sweet time looking through her options, mostly because she wasn't actually hungry, and yet she knew she should eat something. All the while her mind was on Nick. He wasn't entirely wrong — this was just like the good old days, and not just from his perspective.

Only, whereas Alicia'd always had the hospital as a backup option when she'd taken care of Nick in the past, now she was alone. And if she messed up, there wouldn't be anyone to call. And that terrified her. Only thing worse than her brother dying would be if she was the one responsible for his death.

She eventually reached for a can of peaches, found the tin opener and a fork, and hoisted herself onto the kitchen counter to sit.

It was coming; Nick could sense the waters of reality starting to worry around him. The pills he had swallowed were adding the tiniest bit of relief that would allow him to drift off.

"I know it's not what you trying to do, but it changes nothing in the way it… feels…" he responded lazily, pushing through the nasty migraine pulsating in his temples. "I can't catch a break and… I just… don't want… to feel anything… anymore…"

"Surrender isn't an option, Nick. This world is designed to kill us and it eventually will, don't make it easy." That wasn't how Troy knew him and he didn't particularly like the sound of that confession in this setting. Troy scooped another spoonful of flakes into his mouth and gradually attempted to make a dent in it, using the simple job as a means of distraction.

Alicia took a few bites of the peaches and put the can down while she chewed, eyeing the dead walker on the lawn. If they were going to stay here for much longer they'd have to move her. Out of sight. To continue her decomposition elsewhere, away from their noses.

Alicia heaved a sigh and jumped off the counter, heading for the backdoor to explore the garden a bit more, to decide in which direction to pull her.

After Nick fell asleep and Troy finished off his breakfast, he headed back downstairs, rinsed his bowl and set it to dry on the shelf. Alicia was outside but this time she was alone, an immediate contradiction about what she'd said earlier. He headed to the door and perched against the doorframe, silently watching her try to dispose of the corpse.

She wasn't all that heavy. Mostly skin and bones, to be honest. And that made it so much easier to drag her across the lawn and into the neighbor's yard, hidden beneath plenty of shrubbery. Alicia felt Troy's eyes on her the entire time but didn't acknowledge his presence until she headed back for the house, waiting for him to move so she could pass through the doorway.

"Out here by your lonesome looking to get snatched up by the crazy lady or needing to work out your frustrations?" he asked, remaining in the entryway for the time being.

"Neither," she replied. "And I wasn't alone. You were watching me from the moment I stepped outside." She looked up to meet his gaze, stifling the urge to try and physically remove him so she could get past. "You mind? I'd like to finish my breakfast."

"You're full of shit, like your brother. You couldn't have known I was going to come down here." Troy stepped aside to let her pass at her request, as he wasn't trying to be particularly aggravating. "If I'm going to be getting out of this house today to check things out, you're going to have to keep it together. Can you do that, Alicia, or do you need a break?"

She laughed, turning on the faucet to wash her hands in the kitchen sink. "We don't get breaks. You know that." Drying her hands on the thighs of her jeans, she hoisted herself onto the counter again, picking up her abandoned can. "And I am keeping it together. May not look like it to you, but that's exactly what I'm doing. It's what I've always been doing." That last part slipped out before she could stop herself, but it didn't matter. She stabbed at a slice of peach with her fork, murmuring quietly. "I'll take care of things here. Just bring a radio in case of emergency."

"That's where you're wrong, Alicia, if anything this entire thing with Nick—and he is sleeping now, by the way—is the perfect opportunity for a break. We haven't left the house, the Jeep is tucked in the garage and other than the dead, no one else has arrived on our doorstep as we feared. If you want a little R and R, then say so, I can hold off on the trip into town and pick up some of the slack on the bedside manner." For the most part he'd left the nursing to her and she seemed content to take that on considering she had more knowledge than he did in that department, but clearly their little spat upstairs had caused a bit of a fissure – a need for a time-out. "You needed my help before to keep tabs on his pulse, do you think you'll still need it?"

She was quiet for some time, gaze on her food, but she didn't eat, idly stabbing that same peach over and over.

"If he stops breathing again, yeah," she said eventually, putting that damn can down again, her appetite completely gone. "Other than that, I just need to change his bandages. It's okay, I'll do it."

She slipped off the counter and opened the utensil drawer, grabbing a new butter knife, not trusting that the one she'd left upstairs was clean enough for the honey.

"I never said you couldn't, Alicia, I was asking if you think there is a risk of that happening again and if you need me to stay. I can stay." He assumed she'd got the hint but that she was being optimistic, her face a written sign of contrasting misery.

Truth was she didn't know whether what had happened before was likely to happen again. But she worried it might. And she worried she wouldn't be able to bring him back.

She nodded, closing the drawer, knife in hand, and spoke quietly. "Stay."

"You got it," he said, heading for the stairs to leave her to finish her breakfast or whatever else she had planned. He checked on Nick, pressed two fingers to his pulse and found his heart to be beating a bit faster than it was before, at a rhythm that was almost familiar now. Troy had no idea if that was good or bad, but accepted the fact that Nick was still alive as a good enough sign.

He moved to the foot of the bed, cleared away the CD covers and turned off the TV, slipping them onto the device so that he could put them away or Alicia could watch them if she later chose to use it as a distraction.

Alicia watched him leave, assuming he'd eventually turn around before he reached the stairs to get the knife from her and to ask directions for how to change Nick's bandages. But as she heard his footsteps overhead she realized that wouldn't happen.

Partially exasperated and partially amused, she followed him upstairs, grabbing new dressings from the cardboard box in the hallway, holding it all out for Troy to take (deciding throwing the knife, however blunt, might not be received well) so she could go wet a cloth in the bathroom. "Take off the old bandages?"

Troy hadn't really expected her to come in after him so soon, but he took the offered knife and moved to do as she'd requested. Nick was still out of it and Troy guessed he would be for a while.

Troy set the knife down on the bedside table along with the other medical crap and went to work on the bandages, peeling away the corners and ripping the entire thing off like a stubborn band aid. Quick and easy, no muss and even less fuss.

Alicia came back with a wet cloth and nudged Troy aside to carefully clean the wound and then the healthy skin around it, making sure to get all traces of old honey away before we applied the new. The wound still didn't look infected, but it had to hurt like hell, and she hoped some of the discolorations of the skin would fade in time and wasn't in fact necrosis.

Once dry, she applied a new layer of honey and dressed Nick's side in new bandages, gathering the soiled ones to throw away, cleaning up what they would no longer need.

Troy reached for her wrist once she'd finished changing her brothers dressing, gently prying the gross bandage from her grip to get rid of it. He hadn't planned on leaving it there for her to take care of anyway. He walked it over the dustbin and dumped it inside. "You'll have to show me how to do that sometime."

"I will," Alicia said, letting him take the bandages from her and moving to lay down on the bed beside Nick.

"On my cold, dead body," Nick muttered, wincing. "Give me a gun, I'll put myself out of my misery."

She turned onto her side to face her brother once he spoke, watching him. "What's worse? The withdrawals or the wound? Can you even tell it apart?"

Nick considered, cracking an eye open to look at the needle still in his arm, pouring more liquid heat into him. "Barely. I'd roll around screaming if I could."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, meaning it. She hated seeing him like this, hated how helpless it made her feel. "What do you need?"

"A hammer to my head," he jibed, and heaved a sigh. "When is this dripping thing done? It makes me wanna pee. Badly."

She raised her head to look, gauging how much remained in the bag. "Twenty minutes, give or take. But we can take a break if you need it. Do the rest later?"

Nick pondered bearing the pain for twenty more minutes and then having to get up and move, then nodded. "Yeah, I'll go now."

When she pulled the needle out, he gnashed his teeth as he pushed himself off the bed, holding a hand to his side in that stupid natural instinct of trying to ease the pain that way, and went for the bathroom.

The urine wasn't as dark, anymore, so perhaps those IVs were helping a bit. It was good. He was craving to get out of that damn bed as soon as he could. He was sick and tired of all this drag and no recovery.

He turned the taps on and relished in the cold water against his hot face as he washed it. He quietly revisited the Lortab bottle, popped a pill in his mouth and crushed it with his teeth, washing it down with tap water before returning everything to how it was and turning the taps off.

When he lay back down, he was already feeling slightly better. Maybe he could even sleep better this time.

"Will it bother you if I lay down beside you?" she asked, gesturing to the empty side of the bed. The mattress was large, and since she was re-considering sending Troy out to do recon, she wanted to stay close to her brother. But if her moving or shifting beside him gave him more pain, then it was out of the question.

"Be my guest…" he murmured, already feeling that he was drifting off.

Troy got up, scrutinized the two, and slowly made his way out of the room to go check the other room. Maybe there was a book he could read, something to kill some time aside from the TV.

Alicia watched Nick until he fell asleep, then followed Troy out, leaning in the doorway of the room he was searching. "If you still want to go out, maybe you should. I don't know if Nick will stay stable, or how long he'll sleep, but… if things change for the worse I'm not sure I can bring him back. Even with your help."

Troy opened a few drawers and searched through the stuff inside while she spoke, removing the items to study them, setting them down either back inside or on top. "You asked me to stay, Alicia, I'm staying. If something does happen, I'm here to help you no matter the outcome." He removed a small pouch tucked into the back and found a necklace inside. It was pretty. A lengthy silver chain with an azure stone encased in some intricate cage. It wasn't his style. He tossed it at her. "Unless you'd rather I leave?"

"Not what I meant," she said, catching the pouch, holding off on inspecting it for now. She wasn't trying to start another fight. She just didn't want her insecurities to be the reason someone could take them by surprise. "Nevermind. I'll watch him for now." She turned on her heels and headed back to Nick.

Troy had to be certain, at times it was hard to decipher what either of them wanted, and right now they were both so volatile that it wasn't easy reading them.

"Your choice," he said as she left, letting her know that the offer for her to take a break was still on the table and that she was free to do so whenever she was ready.

He found more jewelry, fifty dollars, a couple different types of juicy goosy lip balm and a black iPod that didn't have earphones. They weren't in the drawer either.

After fifteen minutes, he found a series of books though, something about cats that looked distinctly ridiculous, but he settled to read, anyway.

Alicia climbed up on the bed next to her brother and opened the pouch, pouring the silver necklace into her open palm. It was pretty. Too pretty for this new world. She stuffed it into her pocket and lay down on her side facing Nick. For now, he seemed to be breathing normally and his face was serene and void of pain. That helped her relax. She closed her eyes, careful not to fall asleep, just relishing in being close to her big brother in this peaceful moment.

When Nick gradually came to, there was no way of telling how much time he had spent out. The light was different outside the window. Alicia was fast asleep next to him, and her face was somehow tense. As if she was seeing something bad again. She couldn't shake the worries, and he was the big reason for it. Nick was back to square one, with all the pains, deception, and guilt – oh dear God, so much guilt! He wasn't sure he could bear as much, but there was no door to escape through.

Not while he was chained to this bed.

The pain was there, all right, like a dear old friend: his side, his fever, his bones. It was all there, clinging to him, and yet not too bad just yet. It was going to slide down, but he had a head start. He had to use it.

Nick shifted, wincing at his stiff neck, and Alicia moved, a faint sound escaping her. He sat up carefully, hoping she wouldn't fully wake up right away.

Troy finished four chapters on the cat adventure, set it aside and rose off the mattress to head downstairs for a snack. It was funny, when they were out there, doing what they were doing to survive and food was rationed, he took it slowly, played it smart and stretched it as far as they possibly could until he was sure they'd be okay until they found their next load.

This house – this unintentional treasure – he was digging in as if he feared it was going to be ripped out from under him at any moment and the time to remain full and satisfied wasted.

He gripped the same bowl he'd used for his morning cereal and dumped a packet of Lays chips into it, helping himself to a another cool drink before heading back upstairs.

Alicia drives her blade into one man after another, then a woman, a child, more men. Bodies are dropping all around her. People are crying. Screaming. The blade slips from her hand. There is too much blood. It's everywhere. She's choking on it. She can't breathe.

Her eyes shot open but for once she didn't start. It was as if despite her fear, her racing heart, her body was getting used to the nightly trauma.

Nick was sitting up on the edge of the bed. She didn't get up. She just watched him. "Are you leaving?"

"Bathroom," Nick responded, getting to his feet and turning to look at her. His side throbbed, offended by his moving. At least his head wasn't trying to get him to barf. He made a few steps, stopped and studied her sympathetically. "You seeing that shit every time you sleep, don't you?"

"Not every night," she murmured, but that was only because she didn't exactly sleep most nights. "It'll stop eventually. It's got to." She scrubbed a hand over her face, rolling onto her back before pushing herself up to sit. "You need more Oxy?" It had been some time since his last dose. She was surprised he hadn't demanded it of them sooner.

Nick reflected on her statement grimly and slowly shook his head twice, a hint of an apologetic smile flickered over his mouth before disappearing. "They don't stop until you resolve the issue for yourself," he said quietly. He let it sink, then nodded. "Yeah, I need it. Gotta take the bathroom first."

Alicia was baffled. How the hell am I supposed to resolve the issue? Would there just come a day when I'd simply accept what I've done? Or would I have to actively work for it? Probably the latter. Nothing worth having ever came easy, and peace of mind was certainly worthy.

Nick relieved himself, washed his face, drank a couple of handfuls of tap water, then pondered for a moment, and popped a pill, crushing it with his teeth once again before swallowing with more water to help it down. He hid the bottle in the back just the same, then returned to the bedroom.

Alicia got off the bed as Nick headed to the bathroom, stopping by Troy's room where he lay reading and munching on potato chips. "I need the Oxy."

Troy finished the sentence he was reading, slipping a hand into his pocket to retrieve the asked for pills and handed it over.

Alicia grabbed the bag of pills and headed back to Nick, rounding the bed to take a seat on the edge. "Think you can swallow it this time?"

Nick gave her an ironic look. "Do I have a choice?"

She fished a pill out of the bag and handed it to him, grabbing the bottle of water from the nightstand and unscrewing the cap. "I'd prefer it this way, but I know I can't force you."

Nick said nothing as he took the pill, washing it down with two gulps of water. He put the bottle on the nightstand and lay back, trying to relax and wait out a throe in his side. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, and not thanks to the rationed pills.

Alicia did feel a sense of relief to not have to inject him once more, and the fact he was able to swallow now seemed a great improvement from the night before. It proved not all hope was lost.

She got up to draw some of the curtains shut now the sun had shifted and blazed into the room like the headlights of a car, assuming Nick would prefer the semi-darkness.

"What do you see in that dream?" Nick asked with his eyes closed.

It seemed selfish of her to talk about it now that Nick was suffering, but Alicia didn't want to lie to him either. She took a seat on the edge of the bed again, undoing the ties on her boots. "I see people dying. Me killing them. Children crying, trying to get back to their parents. Parents begging me for more time with their children. I never give them any. I just… kill them."

Sounded painful enough. It would haunt him just the same, he imagined. He wished to comfort her, but at the same time, he knew it wouldn't help and maybe would make things worse instead. There was no way to resolve anything while pitying oneself.

When he spoke, his voice was calm and even, same as his face, his eyes still closed. "Does it reflect how it really happened?"

Alicia slipped her boots off and lay down beside him. "Partially." She reached out to gently brush some of his hair away from his face, then pulled away, worried touching him would add to his pain. "Don't worry about it. You already have enough on your plate. I've got it."

It was her burden to bear and she didn't want anyone else to have their lives affected by her guilt and trauma. Well, maybe Troy, but that was it.

"It's not about the worry. I'm trying to help. Compare the dream and how it really went down, and you might find the unresolved part you need to deal with."

The major difference was that she had not hacked and slashed gleefully at the bitten people in the cellar like she did in her dream, but she didn't think her reluctance to murder was part of her problem. Though Troy probably would have argued otherwise about Nick and her both.

"Guess a part of me still feels like there may have been another way out. All those lives lost. Such a waste," she murmured.

"Why were you killing them? They were bit? Or your air was ending?"

"Both," she confessed, a sour taste in her mouth. "The ventilation system wasn't working. We had two hours before the carbon dioxide would kill us all. So, I asked the ones who had been bitten to step forward. Because they would die anyway. I led them away, one by one, behind a curtain. I injected them with morphine. And then I put my knife into the back of their skull." Nausea rose in the back of her throat. She fought it off, silent for a moment. "I've never had morphine. They looked like they were sleeping but… do you think they felt it?"

"No," he responded not missing a beat. "They didn't."

Truth was, it depended on the dose. With a bigger dose, you passed out. With a smaller one – you felt something but didn't care. Either way, she needed to let it go. It was too short a moment to beat oneself over forever.

"You gave them the most peaceful and painful death possible, under the circumstances," he added. "You couldn't help them otherwise. And you tried to save those you hoped could live. Time was against you, but you did all you could. There's nothing you could have done better. Because you did it. If you did nothing, if you didn't put anyone down, more people would have suffered, woulda been in pain and fear. You picked the lesser evil of all possible and lived through it with them, holding their hand, making it better. This is what you should get through your head, and then your dreams will stop."

"Yeah," she whispered. It was the same things she had told herself over and over to try and alleviate some of the guilt from that day, and though it worked at times, it was rare. Still, maybe if she continued to remind herself of those words every day, there would eventually come a time when that guilt would lessen, maybe eventually disappear. It needed to if she wanted to make it through this.

It would, she decided.

She reached out to squeeze his hand, silently trying to tell him she appreciated him being here for her even at a time such as this.

"Always saving me from my nightmares," she murmured, a slight smile on her lips. "Even after all these years."

Nick smiled subtly; it was more of a sad one. "Just not from the nightmare that's me," he muttered sleepily. "The dam should've taken care of that… but… it didn't…"

Alicia turned to her side to watch him, frowning. "Is that what I make you feel like? Like I want you gone?"

It was as if she was speaking underwater. The words and their sense slurred in his mind, making it hard to grasp the meaning. "Not you…" he muttered. "It's all… on me…"

She continued to watch him but didn't speak up again, recognizing the exhaustion in his voice. He needed sleep.

Seemed they were both carrying around our share of guilt. As always. But in Nick's case she didn't know how to help. She'd told him she'd forgiven him for past transgressions that had happened between them, and since that she had simply tried to show him how much he meant to her. How glad she was to be with him. But maybe that wasn't enough? Maybe there needed to be more words?

Later, though. When his mind was clear of drugs and pain.

She lay beside him for a while longer before finally climbing out of bed, put her boots back on, and headed downstairs where she made an effort to finally finish her breakfast. She took a seat on the couch with one of the radios in hand, tuning the channels to check if anyone with similar devices were communicating in their vicinity.

The book hadn't been a page-turner but it has been interesting enough to keep Troy entertained for a couple of hours, only half listening to what was going on in the room—at least that he could hear—and waiting on some sign of trouble that he needed to jump into.

He folded one of the pages in the book, even though he hated to do that, and set it aside on the counter, wiping the few crumbs that clung to his shirt from his chest as he walked to the bathroom.

He made used of the toilet, splashed water on his face, found a toothbrush he hadn't looked for before despite it already being used and made a point of cleaning his teeth.

This whole waiting thing was a bitch. Troy was starting to feel a bit caged – perhaps – one of the other things he and Nick had in common to a certain degree.

He set the toothbrush aside in the plastic cup next to the mirror so it could try, ran a hand through his hair, and headed to the bedroom to see if they'd fallen asleep.

Only one of them was in there. Not a surprise who.

He looked peaceful, maybe those pills were causing less trouble and finally working.

After a quick check to see where Alicia was, Troy headed back to the room he'd holed himself, reclaimed the book he'd set aside, and fell into the fantasyland of cat warriors.