Nick stepped onto the deck to find Brian staring out across the lawn in a comatose sort of way, a blank expression on his face. The plastic file sat on his lap and a bottle of beer in his hand, his jaw set in a determined, worried kind of way. Nick lowered himself into the chair beside Brian with a groan and yawned as he stretched his shoulders and legs. He reached over and took the bottle of beer from Brian and sipped it, holding it in his own hands, swishing the liquid around as he moved so he was on the edge of the seat, looking down at his own feet and the bottle between his knees as he moved it.
After a moment, he glanced at Brian. "So," he said, "How did it go?" Brian held out the file as a response, without actually saying anything. "What's this?" Nick asked, putting the beer down and reaching for the file.
Brian took the beer back, "Emma's medical bills." He tilted his head back and drank the last of the bottle as Nick opened the file.
"I thought you said you were gonna think about it before you agreed to do this?" Nick asked in an accusing tone. He frowned as he pulled the papers out and his eyes scanned very large digits and foreign words like chemotherapy, radiation, aspiration, and others. His frown deepened.
Brian got up and opened the cooler, taking out another two bottles of beer and handing one to Nick. "She said she doesn't want me to help her," he said.
Nick took the bottle and dropped the file to the ground between his feet as he opened the wet bottle's cap on the edge of the chair's arm. "What do you mean, she doesn't want you to help her?" He switched bottles with Brian, since Brian wasn't very good at opening the bottles that way, and opened the second one before taking a pull off the bottle.
Brian sighed, "She said she's already given up."
"Given up?" Nick's eyes turned to concern as he stared up at Brian.
"Yeah." Brian sat down and started peeling the label off the bottle. "She said she's not afraid to die."
Nick chewed the inside of his mouth, his eyes downcast. "So... what're you gonna do?"
Brian's jaw flexed with determination, "I can't just sleep through it while she dies," he answered. He closed his eyes - a mere blink, really - and like a nightmare coming back to him, he could hear the phone ringing in the dark the night Leighanne died, hear the tinny tone of the nurse informing him that there'd been an accident. He could smell the ER as he rushed through the doors, hear the footsteps in the corridor as the doctor led him to the ICU, hear the beeps and smell the sterile environment of the unit, see her pale skin, feel her icy hand... "I can't just let her die," he said as his throat throbbed with emotion.
Nick leaned back in the chair, "Fair enough," he said.
Lauren was looking through a cookbook on the kitchen table when Nick came inside a couple hours later with four empty beer bottles tucked under his arm. He chucked them into the recycling bin and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. Turning around, he realized Lauren was watching him, eyebrow raised.
"What?" he asked slowly, hesitantly. Lauren closed the magazine's cover, crossed and recrossed her legs the opposite direction, cleared her throat and was just about to speak when Nick interrupted, "Oh God, this is something I don't wanna hear, isn't it?"
"I just think Brian's drinking too much," Lauren said. "And you, too, actually." She reached to poke his stomach but Nick ducked to one side.
"Bri's goin' though a hard time," he answered.
"Exactly," Lauren stressed the word, "He's going though stuff and instead of dealing with the stuff he's going through, instead of working through it and getting over it and healing and working through the grieving process, he's covering it up with alcohol with you on the back deck."
Nick blinked several times before he could wrap his mind around what Lauren was saying - he was, after all, ever so slightly buzzed at the moment - and scrunched up his nose. "It's just a normal part of bein' hurt, though," he argued, "I mean it's what us guys do. You girls, you do your own thing and we do ours."
Lauren shook her head and turned back to the magazine, "Whatever you say, Nick." But he could tell she wasn't gonna let it end that easily.
Nick hesitated, unsure if he wanted to persue the topic now and get it over with, or if he wanted to let her leave it the way it was and deal with it another night. He mentally weighed his options, then, deciding he had bigger and more pressing topics to deal with at the moment, he let it slide and threw himself into a chair, scooting it closer to her until he was practically sitting on her lap.
She never even looked up from the magazine, "Yes?"
"This Emma chick," Nick said, "She told Brian not to help her."
Lauren flipped a page in the magazine. "I thought that's what you wanted? For him not to help?"
Nick shrugged, "I dunno what I want," he answered. He leaned back so he wasn't quite in-her-face and rubbed his chin. "I don't want Brian to get used or hurt, that's what. But he seemed really crushed about it."
Lauren looked up at him slowly. "And?"
"And... I dunno," Nick said. "I think he likes her."
Lauren closed the magazine again and reached over, taking Nick's hands into her own. He wiggled in the chair to be closer to her. She stared into his eyes. "Nick, Brian's gotta do this on his own. I know you want to help him heal, I know you think drinking beer with him and getting involved in stuff like this thing with Emma and trying to psychoanalyze him and stuff is gonna help, but I'm telling you -" she took a deep breath, "He has to do this on his own."
"Matchmaking wouldn't hurt, though, right?"
Lauren's voice dipped into a warning tone, "Niii-iiick. No. Do not try to match-make Brian right now. Let him be."
Nick pouted. Lauren dropped his hands and stood up. He grabbed her hands, and looked up with her with sad-puppy-dog eyes.
"C'mon, you poor abused pup," Lauren said, pulling her hands back.
"I am a poor abused pup," he whimpered, "No cookies, no biscuits, no bones..."
Lauren giggled as he caught her into a crushing hug. "On the contrary, Mr. Carter," she said, "I think you do have a bone."
Nick grinned. "Race you upstairs."
