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John watched as Abby left the room leaving him behind. She had thought that he would need some sleep but how could he sleep with everything that was going on in his head? He needed to make it stop but he didn't know how. He thought that maybe a shower would help him to relax.



John stood in the shower allowing the hot water to stream down his back. His mind was on fast-forward as he went through the many ways he could think of to just end all this pain.



He didn't want to do anything that would be too messy. As he stepped out of the shower and dried off he checked the medicine cabinet for whatever he could find. He picked up the bottle of Tylenol, only to find 4 left in it. That wasn't enough to even kill a headache he thought as he swallowed the pills and tossed the empty bottle in the trash.



John began to get dressed when he spotted a small cardboard box on the shelf in his closet. Pulling it down, he sat on the floor in the closet and opened it. He methodically took out one of the knifes he'd been secretly collecting over the past two years and examined it, opening it and running his finger over the blade and closing it again. He tossed one back and picked a different one, this one being one of his favorites. He didn't want to do it this way but it seemed like he had no choice. He would not do it here, not where anyone would find him. He got up and put the box back, slipping the chosen blade into his pocket.



~~~~~~~~~~~~



Abby had shuffled out of the bedroom looking emotionally drained. Eric was in the kitchen and poured her a steaming hot cup of coffee.



"Thanks," she attempted a smile. "John will be right out." She smiled apologetically.



"Shouldn't he try to get some sleep?" Eric asked, looking towards the bedroom for signs of life.



"He says he can't sleep when he gets like this. He'll probably be up all day. He still has today off but I switch back to 'days' today, lucky me and I get to go to work in…" She looked at her watch and groaned. "In three hours." Eric came up behind her and hugged around her back.



"Sis, you should get some sleep. You can at least get another a couple of hours in." He said, resting his chin on her head.



"I can't leave you with him like this. Its bad enough he made such a great first impression, Eric. He's really a great guy. Good doctor, smart, funny, warm…" She began thinking of words to describe John.



John came out of the bedroom. "Stop it, Abby," he said sadly. "Hi, Eric, I'm John, the one losing his mind." John smiled and stuck his hand out to Eric. Eric laughed.



"Hi, John, Abby's a bit worried that I may have gotten a bad impression of you," Eric joked. Abby was shooting him a glare as John fixed himself a cup of coffee.



"Go to bed, Abby. Get some sleep." John stated as he sat down. Abby reached for him but John pulled away quickly, visibly regretting his actions immediately.



"John? Come with me," she begged. She tried to touch him again but he withdrew into himself, trying so hard not to. He looked so ashamed that Eric had to look away.



"Abby, I can't," he said, humiliated that his body wouldn't let her touch him.



Eric got up and left the room as Abby knelt in front of John.



"Please, John," she tried to take his hand and he began to pull away but Abby could be quite strong when she wanted to be. "Don't pull away from me!" She cried. John looked at the pain in her face and he forced himself to place his hand on the side of her face.



"Abby, I can't right now, okay," he begged, leaning over and kissing her head. She was careful to touch him only on his hand, where he touched her.



"Are you all right?" She asked, tenderly. He got up to refill his cup.



"No, but I will be. Go back to bed, Honey. I'll get you up in time to get to work, okay?" He said as he poured the hot liquid into his cup.



"Can I kiss you?" She asked, smiling for his sake. Inside, she was screaming. John forced a smile and gave her a quick peck. "I love you." She said as she stared into his dark eyes. He seemed lost somehow, distant and she was growing more and more concerned.



"I love you, too, Abby. Now go to bed. I'll be fine," he said, kissing her forehead. He rested his chin on her head for a moment and then suddenly pulled away. Something dropped from John's pocket and fell hard onto the floor. John bent and snatched it up quickly.



"John, is that what I think it is?" She asked. The look on her face made him want to cry. He just shook his head as he ran his hand through his hair.



"Abby, please you have to just leave me alone," John pleaded with her.



"How can I leave you alone, you're scaring me, I tried to tell you I couldn't handle this and you begged me to help you and now you want me to just leave you alone. What were planning on doing with that?" Abby began to cry.



"I'm sorry, Abby, I just can't do this any more I can't. Veronica doesn't want to help me any longer and I can't do this alone, I can't start all over again with someone else," John broke down in tears. Abby pulled out a chair and had him sit back down.



"John, I'm going to call Veronica," Abby picked up the phone and dialed the number. She wanted to know what John meant by 'she didn't want to help him any longer.'



"No, no don't, Abby, I don't want to ever talk to her again," John mumbled not even realizing what he was saying.



"What happened while you were there? I thought that you loved them. What went so wrong?" Abby asked as she held the receiver.



"I just realized that the only reason they even contacted me was because Kerry asked them to. They used me the same way Nicole did," he said with his head buried in his hands.



"What the hell are you talking about?" Abby yelled louder than intended. Just then, the phone line was answered.



"Hello?" A male answered.



"Brandon?" Abby asked. She could hear a long sigh.



"Please, Dear God, tell me he's all right," Brandon insisted.



Abby laughed sarcastically. "Sure, he's fine. He won't let me get near him and now he's got a knife in his pocket! Oh, he's doing just fine, Brandon. I wake up to find him zoning out on the bathroom floor, puking his guts out and now he's telling me to leave him alone because he can't do this anymore! He says Veronica doesn't want to help him. Brandon, what did you do to him? I'm scared to let him out of my sight! What the hell happened up there?" Abby yelled, stepping slightly out of the kitchen.



"Abby, calm down," Veronica came on the line. "Brandon is on his way, Honey. Just give him a few hours and he'll be right there. What's John doing now?" She asked.



"He's um, he's, um, sitting at the kitchen table," she said, nervously chewing on her thumb.



"Good. Listen, Abby, has John said anything like that he was going away or anything like that? Has he said good-bye to you?" Veronica asked, sounding almost desperate. Abby felt a chill run up her arms.



"No, he hasn't," Abby, said shaking her head.



"Good. You can't leave him alone," Veronica said.



"I have to go to work. I can't call in again, Veronica. God, I've used all my personal and sick time and if I call and tell Weaver, he'll be out of there, Veronica. I can't let her know. They'll lock him up," she exclaimed, pacing back and forth.



"Can you call anyone else to stay with him?" Veronica asked.



"Uh, my brother Eric is here. He can stay with him," she said.



"Good. Do not leave him alone, Abby. Brandon is on his way. It'll be all right, Honey. I promise," Veronica assured her.



"Okay, thanks, Veronica." Abby hung up the phone. She didn't know what to say to John so she casually went to the guest bedroom and knocked on the door.



"Eric?" She whispered, cracking the door open. He was sitting on the bed with the newspaper spread out. He looked up, concerned by her expression and obvious deceptive demeanor. She came into the room and quietly shut the door behind her. "I need to talk to you," She whispered even though they were behind closed doors.



"Abby, it's very obvious that my being here was not only a surprise to the guy but I made him very uncomfortable by being here at all." Eric started but Abby shook her head.



"No, Eric. That's not it. I told you he was in New York for therapy, right? Well, I guess he left there pretty upset. I just talked to them and they think he's saying his good-byes to people. Eric, I need you to help me." She begged, managing not to cry but on the edge.



"Okay, Sis. I didn't help you with mom but I'll help you now. What can I do?" He offered his big sister.



"Distract him, keep him busy, anything for just a few hours. Brandon is on his way from New York and he'll be able to handle John. I have to go to work because I can't let anyone at the hospital know he's like this. He's the Chief Resident. He's kinda in charge of the place and if they knew he was doing this…." She choked back a sob, placing her hand over her mouth as if it would hold it in. "Eric, he's got a knife," she managed.



"What?" Eric exclaimed louder than he'd meant. They both looked at the door, waiting for John to come barging in any moment.



"In his pocket. See, he's had this weird fascination ever since he got stabbed. We see a lot of knives come in to the ER and I've seen John confiscate them from gang bangers. I think he collects them."



"What does he do with them?" Eric asked concerned for Abby's safety.



"I don't really know, but I've seen him toying with them after he found a new one. He doesn't know that I know but I think he has a stash of them somewhere. I just don't know where he keeps them," she shrugged.



"Well," he said shaking his head, "Sounds like they're here if he now has one in his pocket. Do I need to worry about him hurting me?" Eric asked.



Abby laughed silently. "No. John has the knife to hurt himself, Eric. He says he can't do it anymore. That's why I need you to stay with him every second until Brandon gets here," she begged.



"Uh, Abby?" He asked.



"What?" She responded.



"Isn't he alone right now?" They both headed for the bedroom door at the same time.



"John!" Abby called, not seeing him at the table. Her voice began to raise an octave. "John!"



Abby ran into the bedroom and searched the room. There was no sign of John anywhere.



"Eric!" She began to panic. Eric checked the guest bathroom after clearing the kitchen. When he heard Abby yell, he ran to his sister. "He's not here. He's not anywhere!" She yelled, panic fully setting in.



"Abby! Stop!" Eric had a hold of both her upper arms and had to shake her to get her attention. She looked at him, in total shock.



"Eric, I can't lose him. He means too much to me!" She cried, finally allowing tears to fall down her cheeks. Eric pulled her close.



"Tell me places he likes to go. What does he do when he isn't at the hospital?" He asked, trying to help.



Abby looked around the room, her eyes falling on John's weight bench.



"The gym. Sometimes, when he's upset about something, he goes to the gym and plays basketball," she nodded.



"Good, now what does his car look like?" He asked, trying to get as much information as possible.



"He, um, he has a black Jeep Wrangler, soft top. It's real boxy, you know, square. Big tires," she explained.



"Okay, now Abby, I need you to stay here in case he comes back. Write down the directions for how he usually gets to the gym for me and I'll go see if he's there. You stay here and call me if he comes home, okay? You have my mobile number, right?" He spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. Abby went to the table, found a paper napkin and wrote down the path John usually took to get to the gym. She handed it to him with shaking hands.



"Eric, you gotta find him," she said, her voice very quiet. Abby couldn't speak louder than a whisper now if she tried.



"I will, Abby," he smiled as he left to find John.



~~~~~~~~~~~~



Eric drove down the street using the directions Abby gave him. As he was slowing for a stop sign still several blocks from the gym, he glanced over at a small church and noticed a single man shooting hoops at the basketball court, next to the parking lot. There was a jeep matching the description parked nearby so after calling Abby, verifying that it did match John's and assuring her that he was fine, Eric decided to attempt to talk to John.



"You gave her quite a scare," Eric said, approaching John.



John glanced at Eric, still bouncing his basketball and moving constantly.



"I just needed to get out of there," John said, shooting and making the basket. The ball bounced toward Eric, who began to dribble it.



"You never heard of leaving a note?" Eric said, sounding slightly accusing. John shot him a glare.



"What's it to you?" John challenged, it being clear they were about to square off and compete against each other.



"She's my sister. I worry about her." Eric shot for the basket and missed. John glared his way as he retrieved the ball.



"Where were you when she was dealing with Maggie?" John asked.



Eric looked at him, recognition setting in.



"You're the guy that helped her, aren't you? You drove her to Oklahoma." Eric exclaimed, actually surprised that this was the guy he'd heard so much about.



"We only drove back. Flew out there and drove back." John faked to the right and went left, only to be slammed by Eric as he stole the ball.



"I thought you cared about Abby," Eric provoked, making the long shot.



"This isn't about Abby," John stated dryly, taking the ball to the end of the court.



"Oh, I get it! You're just going to leave her grieving, huh? End your own pain, fuck anyone else's?" Eric asked, knocking the ball from his hands.



John laughed sarcastically. "There won't be anyone grieving for me, Eric. That angle isn't going to work." John regained control of the ball and ran towards the basket.



"Man, I've seen so many guys like you." Eric laughed, facing John head on, both of them dripping with sweat and flushed from the face-off. John bounced the ball from hand to hand as he studied Eric's face.



"Oh, yeah?" John snorted.



"Yeah, guys who have been through some shit in their lives and think that no one will understand. You have these memories and bad dreams and it seems like life just gets to be too much at times because you can't shut the voices up in your own head and you feel like you're going crazy sometimes." Eric talked. John continued to playing ball but as Eric began to talk, John began to slow down and listen.



"How much has Abby told you?" John stood there panting, holding the ball.



"Look, John. Abby hasn't told me anything. I just got in town late last night and she told me that you two finally hooked up. You're just textbook, though. Man, I've seen guys in worse shape than you are after a month under fire. I've seen normal guys crack under the pressure. You ain't no different than anyone else with PTSD and if you were smart, you'd get yourself to a support group and stop hurting the people that care about you," Eric explained. John stared at him, realizing how much he and Abby looked alike.



"You sound like Abby," he finally said, bouncing the ball in front of him.



"Oh, I do, huh?" Eric smiled, knowing he'd gotten to John.



"So, I guess I know where she gets it from, huh?" John laughed, and for some reason, he felt considerably better. Eric kept trying to get the ball, now more playfully than anything.



"You any good at this, doctor?" Eric snapped the ball from John and took control. John laughed.



"Do I hear a bet coming on? I have to warn you, Eric. I'm very rich," John teased, trying for the ball but Eric managed to keep it from his reach.



"Oh, we'll see. If you win, I'll tell you all sorts of sordid details about Abby as a child, no matter how much she tortures me," he laughed, John finally managing to steel the ball from him.



"And if you win?" John questioned, eyebrows raised. Eric stopped in front of him.



"You give me the knife," Eric stated very authoritative. John smirked. Eric was good at making deals but John knew he was good at basketball.



"Anything goes?" John could feel the testosterone pumping through his veins. He needed the endorphin rush.



"Anything goes," Eric agreed, taking on a defensive pose.



For the next hour, they played furiously, slamming into each other, tripping each other ruthlessly, and playing to win. John was a few points ahead but Eric was playing as if his life depended on the results. Some of the neighborhood kids were beginning to show up and watching the old guys play harder and meaner than they did. Both had been knocked to the ground more than once and their knees, elbows, and backsides were covered in dirt. The knee of Eric's jeans were torn and actually had blood soaking through where John had tripped him and sent him skidding across the pavement but neither one was about to give in.



"You ready to give up yet, doctor?" Eric challenged, watching the sweat drip down John's face.



"You forget whose winning, military boy," John replied, stealing the ball from Eric as a few of their onlookers yelled encouragements. John quickly became known as 'Doc' and Eric as 'Buzz' as their cheering section grew.



"Only a delusion!" Eric knocked into John, causing him to lose his grasp of the ball long enough for Eric to gain control. Before John had a chance to recover, Eric made the tying basket. "Hah! Now it's all even." Eric taunted, spurring John on.



"You son of a bitch!" John laughed, knowing they were down to the winning basket. He didn't really even care about the knife. He just wanted to win.



"You're foul language isn't going to help you win this game, John. Nope, this one is all mine." Eric laughed as John tried to block him. Eric ran, jumped and shot over John's head. It was a long shot as they both watched the ball soar through the air.



"Yes!" Eric yelled as the ball went in without even touching the net. Some of the kids ran over, giving him slaps and high fives. John was bent over, trying to catch his breath but laughing.



"Okay, you won that fair and square." John came over to congratulate him. Eric held out his hand. Reluctantly, John pulled out a black pearl handled switchblade and handed it to Eric.



"Oh, man, look at that sweet piece!" One of the kids exclaimed.



"Hey Doc, can we have that?" Another kid asked.



"Hell no! I don't want to have to take it off one of you guys next week after you've pulled it on someone and end up in my ER with a bullet wound to your skull!" John kidded as both men, sweaty, dirty, and bloody in spots walked back toward their vehicles.



"See you back at the apartment?" Eric asked as John opened his Jeep door. John nodded.



"Follow me. I'll show you a short cut," John said, feeling better than he had in weeks.





To be continued…
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