Eliot was sitting in a little lounge area just down the hall from Nate's room when he spotted Paul stepping off the elevator. He stood, and set his cup of coffee on the end table before stepping out of the area and waving Paul down. He clasped the man's hand and thumped his back as he was pulled into a hug. "Paul, man, thanks for coming."

"No need to thank me, Eliot." Paul set down in the chair next to the thief, concern written over his face in bold lines. "How's he doing?"

Eliot shook his head, had to take a deep breath. "Not so good. It's been a rough few days."

Eliot managed to tell the priest about Nathan's time in rehab and the subsequent fallout without going into too much detail about the job. When he was done he was drained. He sipped his coffee as they sat in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts.

Paul stared at the pale blue wall paper on the walls. He literally hurt for his old friend. He glanced at the man sitting next to him. Eliot looked worn, tired, troubled. There weren't enough adjectives to describe the weariness he felt coming off his new friend. "Did they say how bad the damage to his liver is?"

Eliot shook his head. "Nah. They said they'd have to watch it and make sure it didn't get any worse." He shrugged and turned to face Paul head on. "Paul . . . I've reached my limit here. I don't want to hurt Nathan and I know this will, but I can't go through this anymore. I don't know how to do this. He's in the fucking hospital and he's just admitted he wants to die. And all I can think is, I can't do this anymore."

Paul nodded, worrying at his lip. "It would be a very hard thing to go through. If that's how you feel though, it might be better to do it now than to wait. Here we can alert the staff of the hospital to watch for fallout. There would at least be something to cushion the after-effects."

Eliot shook his head, swiping at the hair caught on the side of his cheek. "I don't know what to do." He turned away, breathing deeply, and trying to get control of his emotions. He clenched his fists to keep from striking out. When he spoke again his voice was rough, tight with the emotion trying to escape. "Fuck, Paul, I still fucking love him. After all of this I still love him, and I know that if I leave, it will destroy what's left of him."

Paul wanted desperately to reach out to his friend, but knew that such a gesture would not be appreciated. Instead he grabbed Eliot's coffee and refilled it at the stained machine in the corner of the room. He came back and sat the coffee in front of Eliot. "You have to take care of yourself, Eliot. If you need to leave, then that's what you have to do. Let someone else carry the burden for a little while."

Eliot picked up the coffee, staring down into the murky depths. "He needs help, Paul. I just don't know how."

"Maybe if he went back to rehab . . ."

Eliot interrupted him, shaking his head. "No. The stuff in his head, it won't let him rest." He turned to Paul. "He told me he'd rather die than live with the guilt of Sam's death. As long as that's eating away at him he'll either drink or he'll kill himself."

Paul sighed and stood, running his hand through his hair. "Not a rehab facility then. There are some good psychiatric hospitals around here. They can deal with both the detox and the underlying issues."

Eliot had his hand over his mouth, elbow resting on his knee. He shook his head, and glanced back toward the room where Nate was. "I don't know what the answer is, but I think that's as likely to work as rehab. Maybe less so" He rubbed at his face. "I need to get back. I don't want to leave him alone too long."

Paul stopped the other man. "Eliot, when was the last time you got some sleep?"

Eliot shook his head and started around the priest. "I don't sleep that often, Paul. I'm fine."

Paul held out his hand. "Eliot, you're exhausted. If not physically then emotionally. Let me spend some time with Nate. You go home, get a shower, rest, and think things over a little. Everything will look much clearer if you rest and get a little distance from this."

Eliot grimaced down at himself. He'd almost gotten used to the smell, but now that Paul had brought it back up he noticed the stench of vomit on himself again. "Maybe that's not a bad idea." He ran his hands through his hair. "Thanks, Paul." He started out the door but stopped and turned around. "If Nate asks, tell him I'll be back."

Paul nodded and watched as Eliot walked to Nate's room and peeked in, checking to make sure he was still asleep before he headed to the bank of elevators.

* * *

It was dark the next time Nathan opened his eyes. The room was dim; the only light the one above the bed. He glanced at the figure sitting in the chair next to him, expecting to see Eliot, and then glanced again when he saw Paul.

Nathan ran his hands over his face, trying to clear his head. He looked around the room again. It hadn't been a dream. He'd wanted so badly for this to be a dream. He wanted to wake up in bed with Eliot curled around him. It was the only time he felt in control anymore. "Paul, where's Eliot?"

Paul sat forward so the light fell across his face. He smiled, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt. As a priest, he'd been by the hospital beds of many of his parishioners, given many extreme unctions. But it was harder when it was a dear friend. Seeing this shell of the man he'd known hurt. Knowing he'd done it to himself hurt more. "I sent him home to get some rest. How're you feeling, Nate?"

"Me? I feel fine." To emphasize his point he sat up, ignoring the pain in his head and stomach. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed but his foot caught the foley line and he stilled, breath hissing between his teeth.

Paul stood and put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Whoa, Nate, where do you think you're going?

Nathan lifted the covers and looked down at the offending catheter snaking out from under his hospital gown. He licked his lips and swallowed. A shot of adrenaline raced through his veins. He didn't understand where it came from, it was just there. He needed to get out of this bed. He needed Eliot. "Paul, call someone to get this thing out of me."

Paul shook his head. "Nate, no, you can't go anywhere. Here, just lie back and rest before you hurt yourself."

Nathan was shaking his head. "No, please, Paul, get this out of me. I've got to go, please . . ." He trailed off as his breathing sped up.

Paul frowned and grabbed the call button, ringing for some assistance. "Nate, hey, Nate, calm down. Listen, you're going to hyperventilate. It's just a urine catheter. I know you've had them before."

Paul continued to watch as the little bit of color drained from Nate's face, leaving him whiter than the sheets on the bed. Sweat had broken out on his upper lip and across his brow. "Nate, come on. Take some calm, deep, breaths. If you die before Eliot gets back he'll kill me."

There was a brisk knock on the door and it opened to reveal a dark haired woman in scrubs. "Is everything okay in here?"

Paul shook his head. "I think he's having a panic attack or something. He woke up and tried to get out of bed, and when he couldn't he started hyperventilating."

The woman came on into the room and approached the side of the bed. "Mr. Courtney? Mr. Courtney, does anything hurt?"

Nate managed to shake his head. "Please, get this stuff off of me. Let me get up."

She checked the monitor and frowned at his elevated heart rate. "Okay, Mr. Courtney, Dr. Hamilton left orders for something to calm you. I'm going to run get it. Just try to relax. What you're feeling is just part of the withdrawal." She glanced at the priest. "I'll be right back."

Paul sat on the edge of the bed, careful of all the wires, and rubbed Nate's back. He tried for a teasing tone, hoping to calm Nate down a little. "Mr. Courtney? When did you change your name?"

Nate didn't respond. He reached up and started removing the wires to the EKG machine. He had to go. His heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn't get a decent breath. Where the fuck was Eliot?

Paul stopped him, grabbing his wrists. "Hey, Nate, look at me. Calm down. Everything is okay."

The woman came back in with a syringe. "Mr. Courtney, try to relax. I'm going to give you something that'll help take the edge off." She rubbed at the IV port with an alcohol swab, uncapped the needle, and injected the contents into the IV line.

Once the syringe was empty, she capped the needle and put it in the sharps box. She came back and rubbed her patient's back in soothing circles while watching the heart monitor.

Nathan started to breathe a little slower, the readout on the monitor calming along with his heart rate. Paul licked his lips. "What did you give him?"

"Just a little Ativan to calm him." She smiled as Nathan finally relaxed under her hands. "Feeling better?"

Nathan rolled his eyes up at her and nodded a little. He was embarrassed, but just now a heavy lethargy seemed to come over him. He lay back in the bed and blinked his eyes.

"I'm Julie. I'm going to be your nurse tonight. Is there anything else you need?"

Paul watched as Nate shook his head. Paul stood and shook the woman's hand. "Is that sort of anxiety attack normal? Should I call his partner back?"

"Anxiety is a symptom of the alcohol withdrawal." She turned and tucked the blanket in around her patient's feet. Julie smiled, dimples showing in her cheeks. "That good looking guy in here with you earlier is your partner?"

Nate didn't really respond, just licked his lips and watched the lights outside the window.

The nurse dimpled again. "Aren't you lucky!" She turned to the priest and then blushed. "Oh, Father, I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect."

Paul shook his head, smiling at the young woman. "Nothing to be sorry about." He watched as the nurse nodded and then made her way out of the room. He turned back to Nathan and scooted his chair up so he could be closer to the bed. "Are you feeling better?"

Nathan licked his lips and reached for the cup of water on the bed table. Paul grabbed it and handed it to him.

Nate took a sip of water and put his head back against the pillow. "Eliot isn't coming back, is he?"

Paul scooted forward, hand resting on Nathan's arm. "He is, Nate. I promise."

Nathan looked around the room. It was odd. He felt calmer now with the drugs in his system, but a heavy sadness settled on his chest, crushing him. "It would be best if he didn't."

Paul frowned and squeezed Nathan's arm. "How is that?"

Nathan grimaced, concentrating on something on the other side of the room. "This is for the best. I can't give him what he needs. Just tell him I'm sorry, okay?"

Paul scratched at his forehead and bit the inside of his bottom lip. Well this didn't sound good. "Nate, listen, I know you're feeling lousy right now but you need to step back and not make any decisions just yet. Eliot is going to be back. I promise. Anything you feel you need to tell him you can do it to his face."

A tear broke free and trailed down Nate's cheek. He sobbed and curled, hiding his face in his arms as he brought his hands to the top of his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen, Paul. I should never have let him close to me. I destroy everything." He took a deep shuddering breath, a hiccup escaping as snot bubbled out of his nose. "Maggie knew. She got as far away from me as she could, but it was too late for Sam. Oh, God, Sam! I'm sorry, Sam. Please . . ."

Paul stood and sat on the bed, tried to gather Nate up in his arms. He should've expected that without the alcohol in his system Nate would start to feel all that he'd shut out. But it was horrifying none the less. It was like he was reliving Sam's death all over again. It was the same exact words he'd yelled the night Sam died. Paul could still hear them echoing off the hospital corridors. "Listen, Nate, please. You're not thinking clearly right now. What happened with Sam, that wasn't your fault. You did everything in your power to save your son."

Nate was shaking his head and pushing at Paul. "No, no, no. He looked to me to make it better. He believed that I could make it better! It should be me! I should've died, would've gladly died to save him. I wish it had been me!"

Paul closed his eyes, still trying to keep Nate still and in bed. "Nate, come on. Lay back and take a drink of water." Nathan was inconsolable. Paul had no idea how he could go through a mood swing so quickly.

"Tell Eliot that I don't blame him. Tell him that I'm sorry I hurt him. Tell him . . . tell him I understand."

Paul finally let go of Nathan, let him curl up into a ball, sobs wracking his body. He didn't know if this was an adverse reaction to the drugs, withdrawal, or just Nathan finally imploding. Whatever it was he couldn't get his old friend calmed down. He reached for his phone and dialed Eliot's number.

* * *

Eliot charged out of the elevator and trotted down the hall to Nathan's room. Even before he opened the door he could hear the sounds of soft sobbing. He pushed open the door and hurried to the side of the bed. "What happened?"

Paul stood up from where he'd been sitting by Nathan, trying to talk to him, to calm him. He backed off and watched as Eliot climbed into the bed with the sobbing man, wrapping his arms around his heaving chest and shoulders. "When he woke up he had a panic attack. They gave him a shot and he calmed down, but then he didn't think you were coming back and got upset again."

Eliot started rocking Nathan, trying to soothe his lover. "Hey, Nate, come on now. You're making my shirt all wet with the tears."

He didn't get any response. Eliot looked up at Paul, frown pulling his eyebrows low over his eyes. "Have you called a nurse?"

Paul sat back down in his chair. "Yeah. They said the doctor wouldn't approve anymore sedative. Julie, the nurse, said it was probably a mood swing from the withdrawal and that he would be fine eventually.

Eliot snarled. He wanted to get up and find the doctor, but he couldn't with Nate cuddled in his lap. He turned his attention back to the man in his arms, laying a kiss against the top of his head. "Hey, Nate, Parker called. She's got another play date with that little friend she made while serving on the jury."

Eliot kept his lips pressed into Nathan's hair, talking. He talked about the rest of the team and about what he'd done at home. He talked about nothing, just waiting for his voice to break through to Nathan.

He wasn't sure how long it had been, minutes or hours, but Nathan had eventually stilled and quieted in his arms. Eliot thought he'd fallen asleep, but he kept up his quiet patter, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Nate's spine.

"Eliot?"

Eliot shifted and looked down at Nathan. He swallowed. He was a little horse from all the talking. "Yeah, Nate?"

"Why are you here?"

Eliot glanced up at Paul and shifted in the bed. "Because you needed me." He was silent a moment. "How are you feeling?"

Nate tried to push himself up and Eliot let him go. "You shouldn't be here."

Paul sat forward. "Nate, he's here because he cares. We both do. You need to let us help you."

Nate turned from Eliot, ashamed at the tears on his face. "I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help. I just want everyone to leave me alone."

Eliot stood and walked to the end of the bed, staring down at the man who occupied it. Despair was eating a hole in his stomach, anger throbbing behind his temples. He took a deep breath and gripped the foot of the bed. "I ain't going to lie to you, Nate. I care about you, I do. But I can't take any more of this. Watching you do this to yourself is killing me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you." He paused and ran his hands through his hair. "If I had my way you'd be well and we'd be together and none of this would be happening. I don't want to leave you, but it's getting the point where if things don't change I'm going to have to."

Nathan nodded his head but his face remained dry. His tears were already shed. "I understand, Eliot. You need to. You need to get as far away from me as you can." He took a deep breath and curled down in the bed, trying to stop the ache in his chest. "I . . . I think I need to get some sleep now."

Eliot glanced at Paul helplessly. "Nate, please let me finish."

Nathan lay in the bed, apathy making his limbs heavy, limp. He turned and stared out the window, refusing to look at Eliot.

Paul shrugged and sighed. "You go ahead. I'll stay here."

Eliot pulled at his bottom lip but finally nodded. "Yeah, okay. Call me if . . ." He shrugged. "I'll be back in the morning. Maybe he'll be ready to talk a little then."

Paul watched as Eliot strode out of the room and then turned back to Nathan. He was curled up in the bed, cover pulled up to his shoulders and arm throne over his eyes. Paul sighed and yawned. He settled down in the chair and tried to rest a little.

* * *

Paul startled and sat up. "What?"

Eliot looked up from where he was standing by the bed looking down at Nathan. He held his finger up to his lips so Paul wouldn't disturb the sleeping man. He gestured with his head and led Paul outside.

Paul rubbed his face and peered down at his watch, blinking, trying to make his eyes focus. "What time is it?"

Eliot rolled his shoulders. "It's about nine. How long has Nathan been asleep?"

Paul swallowed and pulled at the collar. Most of the time he didn't notice it, but if he'd been wearing it for an unusually long time, it sometimes felt constricting. "He slept off and on last night. Mostly off. He didn't really fall into a good sleep until about six this morning."

Eliot nodded and watched as a gurney was pushed down the hall. "He say anything else?"

Paul shook his head and sighed. "I couldn't get him to talk. He just shut down." Paul studied Eliot. He didn't look anymore rested than he felt. "You don't look like you rested much either."

Eliot pursed his lips and then grimaced. "It wasn't an easy night. Nathan shut down on me before I could finish. We . . . I need to talk to him." He shrugged. "I don't know how much longer we'll be together, but I can't leave him like this."

Paul nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand. I'm glad he has someone to be there for him. It's a thankless job, Eliot. It takes someone with a lot of strength to do what you're doing."

Eliot shrugged, eyes focusing on a point far off. "It's what I do. I take a licking and keep on ticking. This is just another kind of beating, Paul. I'll get through it."

Paul was silent, a little horrified. It was a little scary to think Eliot was the healthier one in the relationship. He cleared his throat. "Well, if you don't need me I really need to get back to the rectory and take a shower before I head into the office. Will you call me? Let me know how things go or if you need any help?"

Eliot nodded and gave the priest a brief hug. "Yeah, man, thanks. You've really been a lot of help."

"Not a problem. Tell Nate I'll talk to him later."

Eliot watched as Paul got on the elevator before turning and going back into the room. When he stepped back inside he noticed that Nate's baby blue eyes were at half mast. "Hey, Nate, you awake?"

Nathan licked his lips and nodded. He felt confused. Things were hazy and he wasn't quite sure if the last couple of days had been real or not. "Eliot?" He winced as his voice scraped along the sides of his vocal chords, coming out dry and brittle.

Eliot filled a glass with some water from the pitcher, stuck a straw in it, and handed it to Nate. "Yeah. How are you feeling?"

Nathan sucked at the straw, relieved when the cool water hit his burning throat. He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm . . . hazy."

Eliot nodded and sat down in the chair that Paul had vacated. "Do you remember last night?"

Nathan licked his lips and toyed with the Styrofoam cup, picking off little balls of the white spongy material. "Sort of." He rolled his head around, trying to work the kink out of his neck. "Look, Eliot, I understand. I wish . . ." He trailed off and smiled a brittle smile.

Eliot sat forward, forearms braced on his knees. "You wish what?"

Nathan put the cup back down and sat up straighter in the bed. "Doesn't matter."

Eliot shook his head. "You are one hard headed son of a bitch. Do you know that?"

"What do you want me to say, Eliot? That I don't want to lose you? Well I don't! But I cannot . . ." He trailed off and looked away. "You have no idea what you're asking me to do." He rubbed his face over his hands. "You know, this wouldn't have happened if Sophie hadn't interfered and conned me into rehab. If I hadn't been so damn thirsty I wouldn't have drank so much."

Eliot shook his head, eyes sad. "That's an excuse, Nathan. It would've happened sooner or later. Nobody can continue to drink like you do and not come to some kind of disaster. This one's been waiting in the wings for most of a year, man."

"I can't live with everything inside of me, Eliot. The only way-the only way-I can get by is by numbing myself to the point that I don't feel." Nathan glared at Eliot for a long time. "If you can come up with some way to stop it, then have at it! Until then I will continue to drink."

Eliot sat in the chair for a long time, watching as Nate avoided his gaze. Hearing the pain in Nathan's voice as he talked about it brought the whole thing to startling technicolor.

He narrowed his eyes. Could it be that simple? Had it been staring them in the face all this time? Eliot licked his lips. "Look, Nate, I won't pretend that our relationship can withstand this pressure. Right now it's a very fragile thing. But, I'm not ready to walk out that door just yet."

Nathan swallowed but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. If it was going to end he wished Eliot would just get it over with.

Eliot reached forward and patted his leg. He was afraid of what he was feeling, wasn't sure if he could trust it. But there was a little hope blooming in his chest. With a little help he might just be able to help Nathan out after all. "I'm going out in the hall to make a phone call. I'll be back in a minute."

* * *

Sophie was curled up in the chair, sunning herself and reading the society pages when the phone rang. She grabbed it up off her lap, hoping it would be Nate, or at the very least Eliot. It had been two days since Nate had gone off with Eliot and neither one was answering their phones. She was slightly pissed and a whole hell of a lot worried. She'd gone by Nate's apartment last night, but he hadn't been home and she'd walked away in a huff. He was probably at a bar somewhere.

Her cell rang and she picked it up off the end table, glancing at the Caller ID before connecting the call. "Eliot! Why haven't you been answering your phone? I haven't heard from you or Nate since the other day and I was getting worried."

She chewed on her cuticle as she listened to Eliot. "Sure. What's going on?" She looked around her apartment, glad it was tidy. "Yeah, come on up. I'll be expecting you."

She disconnected the call and turned her face to the sun, breathing deeply. Eliot wouldn't say why he wanted to come over and talk to her. He'd sounded stressed. Something was up. She knew that he and Nathan had developed a close relationship. She thought it was sweet that Nathan had become a sort of father figure for Eliot. But she was a little jealous. Why could he develop a close relationship with Eliot but keep her at arm's distance?

When Nate had brought her on to the team she'd hoped that it would be a new start for them. However, he seemed to be holding her more at a distance than ever. It was infuriating and more than a little distracting.

The doorbell buzzed and she jumped up out of the chair to go to the door. She checked to make sure it was Eliot before answering the door. She bit her lip as she got a good look at him. He really did look haggard, like he hadn't had any rest in a while. "Eliot? What's going on?"

Eliot took the opportunity to look around Sophie's apartment. This was the first time he'd ever been inside. It was about like he expected, fussy. He stood in the entrance of the living room, a little uncomfortable with all the white furniture. Actually, he was a little uncomfortable with this whole situation. He'd be lucky if Sophie didn't try to hand him his head. "We need to talk about Nate."

Sophie gestured to the white couch and curled up in the chair she'd been sitting in before he'd called. "What about him?"

Eliot ran his hand through his hair and stayed standing, arms braced on the back of the couch. "He almost died night before last." He held up his hands as Sophie jumped up from the chair.

"What? What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

Eliot motioned for her to sit back down. The last thing Nathan needed was her rushing in and adding more stress. Hardison was sitting with him right now and he knew the hacker would be mindful of what he said. Yeah, he had Hardison's number. "Sophie, calm down. He's fine. He's at the hospital. The doctors have him sedated and he's resting." Once he was sure she wasn't going to fly out of the apartment he continued. "He had a little too much to drink and had to go to the emergency room."

Sophie advanced on the hitter, face darkening. "You were supposed to be watching him! Go home, you said. I can take care of it, you said. Then you let him drink himself into alcohol poisoning!"

Eliot couldn't help the sneer that twisted his lips or the low growl that his voice dropped to. "My back was turned for fifteen minutes! Don't you go laying this on me!"

Sophie stood, mouth open. She shook her head. "Who am I supposed to blame? Nate? He's an alcoholic, Eliot! He has no control when it comes to the stuff."

Eliot advanced on her, frustration and anger making him gesture violently. "Well, he wouldn't have drunk himself into a seizure if you hadn't tried to push him into rehab before he was ready!"

Sophie stood, shocked at being blamed for this. "I'm only trying to help him! Not like you!"

Eliot clenched his hands into fists and bared his teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sophie took a step forward, eyes narrowing. "You and Nathan seem to be very chummy lately. You know, I get that you feel the need for a father figure, Eliot. But enabling him is only hurting him."

"Enabling him?" He was trembling, his heart beating so hard it was going to burst. "You're the one trying to push him into things he isn't ready for! You're the one that stresses him out so bad he can't stand it. He's so fucking scared to be himself around you, thinking you'll leave the team! You sit by and watch him try to destroy himself and all you can think of is how he's not returning your advances! Back off!"

He turned away before he could strike out at her. All of the anger and frustration that he'd been bottling up was rushing out of him, like poison from a snakebite. Everything that he couldn't afford to let lose at Nathan was spilling from him now, leaving him feeling shaky and weak.

Sophie watched him walk away and tried not to show how much that stung. "He needs to involve himself with people, involve himself in relationships. He doesn't need to shut himself off from the rest of the world with alcohol as a great big barrier!"

Eliot turned around, rubbing at his chin. He felt exhausted after releasing the anger that had been building up inside of him. He just wanted to get back to Nate's side and rest a little while. "Look, I came here to ask for your help. If we don't do something he's going to end up dying real soon."

Sophie was breathing hard, flushed. She took a few deep breaths and pushed the bangs out of her eyes. She looked away, biting her bottom lip, before she gestured to the couch and sat back down in the chair. "How can I help? He won't let me get close enough to help him? He won't go back to rehab. I'm at a loss."

Eliot sat on the edge of the couch, afraid of getting dirt on all the white upholstery. He met Sophie's stare. "He's admitted he's an alcoholic, but he denies it's a problem. It's a step forward, but I think we're missing a piece."

Sophie looked pointedly, gesturing for him to elaborate.

Eliot felt an unpleasant grin stretch his face. "We get revenge on Nate's old company. We do for him what we do for all these other people. It might not work, but at this point I think it's our only option."

Sophie rubbed at her bottom lip as she thought it over. "It might work." She let her eyes go unfocused, thinking about a job she'd wanted to do. She'd originally been thinking about a solo job but the team might just be her best way to go about this. She flashed Eliot a glance, not having entirely forgiven him, but if it would help Nate . . . "Wait a minute." She grabbed at the paper she'd been reading before Eliot's phone call. She flipped through the pages until she came to a page with a photo of a very familiar statue. "I think I know how."

*THE END*