He looked around the bathroom, he was alone. He knew there was no one there, but where was that voice coming from? He could still hear it, almost like she was hovering above him. He shook his head, "I must be going crazy."

The throbbing of his wrist brought him back to reality. The oozing redness was now dripping on the tiles, his fingers not stopping the flow effectively at all. With a sudden clarity, he realized that something had stopped him from doing what he planned. Or Someone. He shook his head again and stumbled to his feet, the woozying effects of the alcohol and the blood seeping out of the deep wound on his wrist catching up to him. He leaned against the wall, steadying himself by resting his elbow on the towel rack.

The spinning of his head only seemed to intensify as he leaned more heavily on the towel rack. With a crack it gave way under the weight of his body. He started to slide down the wall, but it seemed like something had stopped him, grabbed him before he could fall all the way down.

She watched as he started to slide down the wall after the towel rack crumbled. Without thinking she reached out was surprised that she could feel the coolness of his skin. Gently pushing upwards, she managed to get him on his shaking legs again. A flash came to her and she saw a blonde man, stocky, kind blue eyes. He was nearby, she knew it. She could feel him thinking about this person, he needed to get to him. How did she make him understand that he had to go to this man? Cursing whatever fate had brought her to him, she sent her hands forward, pushing him from behind.

"Go to him. Go!"

His head snapped up, there it was again. That voice, the same one who had stopped him. But where? He knew he was alone, yet the voice wasn't in his head, it was here in the room with him. He felt a push on his back, urging him forward.

He shivered and took a halting step forward, then another, one more and he would be in the door or the bathroom. God, it seemed so far. One more step, come on Carter, you can do it. Right.........left.....LEFT! His left leg obeyed and he leaned against the door, swaying with the exertion of the journey. His wrist throbbed mercilessly and the spinning in his head was now starting a buzz in his ears.

He took a deep breath, his feet threatening to buckle underneath him. Then the push came again at his back, urging him further. He stumbled under the forward nudge and managed to scrape his feet across the rough carpet to the door. A trail of red drops, smeared from his feet, marked his trail like the breadcrumb trail in a fairy tale he remembered from his childhood. A trail to find your way back home. He shook his head again, feeling a throbbing in his ears, the rhythmic thump reminding him of his drum-set.

The door. How do I get the door open? He looked down at his blood covered hand. He would have to use that one, the other one was incapable of any movement. He slowly took his hand from the gash in his skin, hissing through his teeth as the air hit it, burning. He grasped the doorknob, trying to get a grip on it. The blood had slickened his hand, making it impossible to turn the knob. He only smudged more and more blood on the knob and the parts of the door around it. He groaned, oh please, just let me get it open, please! He could hear someone talking on the other side, he was so close. He opened his mouth, trying to call for help, but the dryness that parched his throat made sound impossible, only a weak grunt was issued forth from his lips.

He watched the blood surging from the gash in his arm, he had to get out of here. He didn't want to die right here on one side of the door while help lay just two inches away on the other side. He pressed his wrist to the material of his t-shirt, hoping it would stop the blood flow enough for him to get to Brian's room. The t-shirt! He looked down at the material and ran his hand down the front of it, the absorbent material taking the slickness of the blood off his hand. Once again he grasped the knob and this time his grip held, slowly he turned it, each inch of twist seeming to take every ounce of energy he had.

Click.

He nearly fell over in joy at that sound. He retracted his hand back towards him, still holding the knob. The fluorescent light of the hallway dazzled his eyes as the door inched open. He let go of the knob and leaned against the wall as it swung open fully. Throwing himself forward, he felt the impact of the door jamb on his chest. He looked out into the hallway, moments before there had been voices, movement. Now there was nothing. He felt moisture flood his eyes. God was punishing him for what he had tried to do. Why couldn't there have been anyone in the hallway? Because you fucked up, Carter, that's why. You couldn't even do one simple thing right.

She saw him pause in the doorway, tears slipping down his face. She could feel him weakening and she could feel herself weakening right along with him. It was like she was bound to him with an invisible cord that let her feel what he was. She had to get him to the man he was thinking of. She just had to. No matter what.

She took her hands and grasped his shoulders, straightening him, pushing forward.

"Go. You can do it."

For the first time he answered her, his voice barely a whisper, yet it seemed to scream in her ears. "I.....can't." His knees shook with the strain of keeping him upright, the throbbing in his ears slowing ever so subtly. He drew a shaky breath and started to slide down the doorway, headed for the floor.

She felt panic jolt through her and stepped up behind him until she was right behind him, her unseen arms around his waist, her phantom knees behind his. He was weak, so was she, but maybe their combined weakness could form enough strength to get him there.

He felt something behind him, holding him up, stopping him from sliding to the floor, stopping his knees from buckling beneath him. He gripped the opposite side of the doorway and pulled himself across, bringing him more fully into the hallway. He knew Brian was in the next room. He looked down the hallway, seeing the door. It looked so far away, almost mocking him. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, the blood flowing out of him weakening him relentlessly. His shirt clung too him heavily, the blood absorbing and saturating the material. He looked down the hallway again. Ten feet. He could do this. Five steps, ten at the most.

He felt the presence behind him, still holding him up. Carefully, slowly, his foot slid across the threshold of the door, stepping out into the hallway. Still leaning heavily against the door jamb, he slid his other foot out, then braced his upper body with his good arm and swung the rest of himself out into the hallway.

His breath was becoming shorter, more difficult to draw in. Sweat was forming on his brow with the exertion it had taken to get this far. He knew the longer he stood there, the less chance he had of making it there. With a grunt of pain and effort, he groped the wall, leaving a trail of red on the tasteful pattern of the paper. His foot slid forward again, never breaking contact with the carpet. As hard as he tried, he couldn't raise it enough to clear the carpet, instead sliding it along the surface. Once he had slid it far enough forward, he dug his fingers into the unyielding wall and jerked his upper body forward, sliding it against the wall. Once he had jerked himself forward enough, he brought his other leg forward, using the wall to lean into so he wouldn't fall over. One step, he had done it.

She panted behind him, feeling every part of her aching in the struggle to keep him upright, keep him propelling forward. They had done it. It was one step closer to where he needed to be. She saw the blood dripping off of his jeans, the material of the t-shirt unable to absorb any more. She gripped him harder,

"Another one. We can do it. "

He closed his eyes, it would be so easy to just sink to the ground and close his eyes. To sleep. He was so tired. His eyes blinked open, the blurriness taking longer to go away. He slid his foot forward again, a longer distance this time. With a heave, he started his upper body sliding against the wall, his hand inching along trying to prolong the momentum.

Sliding to a stop, he dragged his other leg forward until the two were side by side, feeling the leg with all his weight on it shuddering from the load. He kept the other leg sliding forward, until with a violent shake, his knee gave way, crashing him forward, his upper body sliding in an arch down the wallpaper until he was able to brace himself, his palm hitting the carpet and sliding forward, burning him with the friction, until he was able to grip the loops in his fingertips to stop the momentum.

His chest heaved, this palm burned, his other wrist surprisingly numb now. His eyes clenched shut, tears streaming from them. Please, if you can hear me, let me get there. Give me the strength to get there.

She heard his silent plea. She was shuddering under his weight. Somehow, when he had started tipping forward, she was able to pass right through him until she could feel him pressed against her from behind, his breaths panting into her shoulder. She bent her elbows and gathered her strength, he knees shaking, laying in wait.

He heard a grunt that wasn't coming from his lips as a force seemed to propel him upwards and forwards, first his lower body, raising him until his legs were under him and able to lock, then his upper body slowly arched backwards until he was standing again. What felt like a hand held him against the wall and then he felt the presence once again behind him, holding him upright. A gentle nudge behind his knee urged him forward again and he drew in a gasping breath, with this next step he could make it.

With a strength he didn't even know he had, his leg slid forward until he could move it no more, his toe resting against the door jamb to Brian's room. Then his hand gripped the wall, his fingernails gripping the cold steel of the door jamb and his the muscles tensed, slowly dragging him forward. He rested his head against the coolness of the doorway and dragged his other leg forward until he was leaning against the door. The pounding in his head was making him more dizzy as a small smile of victory graced the edges of his blue tinged mouth before sliding off, not having the strength to sustain it.

She was leaning against the door with him, all of her energy gone. She felt her breath weakening along with his. They had come this far, only one thing left. She slid her arm down his, gripping his good wrist and laying his splayed hand on the door. Slowly she slid it upwards until it was at the same level as his shoulder.

She felt the life draining out of him as the puddle of red grew beneath his feet, soaking the edge of his jeans. She leaned against him, gathering her strength for this one last action.

"What is his name?"

He panted softly, licking his lips to answer, "B...Brian."

She drew in her breath and took his wrist that she still had grasped in her hand and wrenched it away from the door, then brought it back with a force she didn't know she possessed, slapping the door with a BOOM in the quiet hallway.

"BRIAN!"

Brian sprang up in his bed, a voice screaming his name, a loud thump on his door. The voice sounded like Nick's but softer and terrified.

She didn't know how much longer she could keep him up on his feet. They were both so weak.

Suddenly the door opened and Nick swayed, nearly following the door. His hands dangled at his side, one arm dripping blood from a gash that traveled two inches up his arm towards his elbow. His shirt and jeans soaked in his own blood. His eyes met Brian's for a split second before his legs gave way a final time from underneath him, all of his strength gone.