The man was hardly aware of anything going on around him. He could feel himself being dragged from place to place, but wasn't fighting it much anymore. He wasn't in the hospital, or jail, and that's what was important. Once he was placed on the pull out, the guy zoned out for a few hours. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't very responsive, either. By the time Garin sat down on the edge of the bed and began talking to him, he was slowly coming back into it. But clearly not enough.

He didn't hear anything but a muffled voice breaking through his jumbled mind. He looked up at Garin, the look of a trapped animal in his eyes. His mind began racing, and common sense had long sense fled. Flashbacks began to roll through his head; pain, fear, blood, anger. All he knew was that he was in a room with another male, who he figured would began beating him into a bloody pulp if he didn't act first. The large man pushed himself off the mattress and made an clumsy lunge at Garin. His arms didn't seem to cooperate, so he ended up falling face first into Garin's back, sending them both onto the floor. He tried to get up to fight, but he couldn't. He couldn't fight. The best thing he could do was curl up in a ball, cover his head, and hope someone rung the bell soon, and that's exactly what he did. 

~~

Garin had turned to get the guy some water when suddenly he was tackled to the ground. With a soft curse, he struggled away from the sick man who seemed just as intent on getting away from him. With the untangling of legs and arms, it took a moment, but quickly sorted itself out to where Garin stood, panting and staring down at where his newest project had curled into a ball on the ground, his arms reflexively over his head. 

“What the fuck?” Allie's voice broke the quiet and Garin turned to look at her, confusion written all over his face. 

“He jumped out of bed.” 

She stared down at the man on the ground and then shook her head. “Weird. Well, at least he wasn't trying to hurt you. Let's get him back into bed.” She slipped to his side and with the brusque nature of someone well accustomed to dealing with the Unpleasant, she tugged on one arm while Garin got on the man's other side. Together, they hefted him, moaning and insensate, into the bed once more. 

“I'll go and get my stethoscope,” Allie growled. 

Garin sat down next to the guy and set his hand on the man's chest. Detox was no doubt unpleasant and the man's actions didn't make much sense, really. But, like she had said, at least he wasn't dangerous. It was less like being attacked and more like having a two hundred pound blanket thrown across his shoulders. 

Allie was back quickly enough which meant she had brought some supplies inside while he'd been in the room with their patient. She leaned over the man and began to check vitals. “Never saw that kind of reaction, though,” she said softly. For once, she almost looked worried, though she obviously tried hard not to seem so. 

“It was like he was afraid I was gonna start kicking him or something,” Garin hazarded a guess. 

“Yeah,” Allie shrugged. “Wonder if he's mentally incapable or something. That'd explain why he's so big and why he's all jacked up. Probably used to having to hide after he's high. Guys can be nice or really cruel to someone who doesn't fit in.” She pulled back. “Heart rate is sluggish, but that's to be expected. I'd guess we're on the first steps of something nasty. You sure you want to do this?” She arched a brow at Garin, then sighed at his look of certainty. “Okay. I'm gonna go and get Spence, pick up some supplies. If he hasn't come out of it enough to give us names, he's not likely to any time soon. You just keep him in bed. If he will drink, give him some juice and be ready for it all to come back up.” She patted his shoulder. “Welcome to Pukeville, honey. You can't get off this train once you're on it. Please lift your trays to the up position and prepare your little, brown paper bags.” 

“Get out of here,” Garin laughed. 

“Going. Going.” 

~~

The man let out a soft groan as he was put back into the bed. Something was wrong; there was no yelling, no hitting, nothing. He felt as though he'd lost a fight, but no punishment came. Usually, his father would scream himself hoarse and smack him around if he lost. Was his father even hear? He was scared and confused, but his body was tired and demanded rest. He could hear people talking, but they didn't sound angry, or even dangerous. He managed to find some ease in that. His face buried in the pillow he was given, and soon he dozed off.

It was about an hour later that he woke again. He felt as though he'd been hit by a car; his stomach hurt, his head hurt, his muscles were sore, and he wanted nothing more but to grip something and squeeze it until all his frustration melted away. He resisted the latter and crawled out of the bed to a trashcan that had been placed nearby. The man leaned over it for a moment, and then heaved out what little contents had been in his stomach. Vomiting came in waves until his body decided that it had nothing else to purge, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth and a burn in his throat. He looked around for something to drink, but couldn't see anything. Instead of venturing out to find water, he just laid on the floor and tried to cope with how shitty he felt. 

He was beginning to wish that his father WAS there, so that he could get another dose of meth. He didn't want it, but he needed it. He'd been forced to take it so long, that he didn't know how to cope without it. He was so dependent on his father's drugs that he would rather stay and tolerate the abuse than leave and suffer the withdrawal, and of that he was more ashamed of than anything. 

He couldn't hear anyone speaking; maybe they'd left to find his dad. Maybe his dad would come in and shoot him up with another round. He was sick at the almost hopeful feeling he got at the thought. The man curled up again, hating himself and filling with frustration at both his own actions and his life in general. He'd thought about ending it several time, but was almost too much of a coward to do it. He laid his face in the crook of his arm as he felt tears running down his cheeks. 

~~

The door to the room opened and there was a worried sound, a mingled sigh and gasp. “Of course,” a man's voice cut in, soft and almost amused though one look at the man's face would show there was plenty of worry in it, “the minute Spence and Allie get here, you get out of bed.” Strong, slender hands curled around the patient's upper arms and drew him over onto his back. “You fallen and can't get up, huh?” he said in the same tone, broken at the last with a grunt of exertion and the patient was drawn up and toward the bed once more. 

Garin wasn't made for lifting such huge loads. The man was solid muscle but despite all of Allie's warnings, he'd only kept curled in on himself and had moaned softly a time or two. It was strange, like being around a really big kitten. A wet, bedraggled kitten. Granted, kittens had teeth and claws to bear if necessary, but this one seemed to not know it. 

Spence came in just as he'd managed to get the man onto the edge of the bed. The guy couldn't hardly sit up without a lot of help and Garin had him firmly in hand while he was trying to pull back the tangled blankets behind. 

“He's huge,” Spence's voice was a far deeper one, almost raspy from a bar fight years prior that had cut into his larynx. Spence was big enough, but more broad than tall. Garin hadn't put together just how big their guest was until Spence had come up alongside. 

“And he's wrung out. I had put a tub by the bed, buster,” Garin's hands were free with Spence holding the man up to allow him to put the bedding back to rights and then work with his friend on putting the man back into bed. “He keeps crawling out. We might want to pull the mattress down and put it on the floor, keep him from falling and hurting himself.” 

The pair worked over the man, Spence's more experienced eye taking in the state of the man's body as they did so. Silently, the older man left to get some water while Garin pushed the man's hair back out of his face. 

Garin sighed and then leaned down and began to massage the man's temples. He wasn't altogether sure it would do any good, but at the point they were in, any small kindness, right? “Sorry, I wouldn't have left if they hadn't come to the door and Allie had locked it. She's got some insane idea that you got dangerous friends, buddy.” 

It was strange, talking to a man who didn't seem to understand, really. Grain gave a grim smile and then sat back to arrange the blankets more snugly around the man's form. “You really are huge. I should have a king size mattress and I'll bet your feet would still hang over the ends.” He turned and reached out his hand as Spence returned with some Gatorade in a glass. “Okay, up we get. Allie says you need liquids, buddy. Spence?” 

Spence got on the other side of the bed and the pair of them lifted the man to a seated position. Spence took the main weight of the guy on his chest while Garin lifted the cup to the man's lips and tried to get him to drink. 

~~

Once again, the man resisted help. He didn't want them to see him cry; it made him felt weak. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Anger boiled in his blood, but he didn't have the strength to act on it. It faded soon enough once he was back in the bed. His mood swings would be a dangerous asset once he was up and walking around, but for now, they didn't pose much threat. He was able to understand what was being said to him, although he didn't want to hear it. A dark, quiet room would have been nice. 

The man helping him up said something about him having dangerous friends. The joke was on him thought; the man didn't have any friends. Most of the people he met were either working with his father, or were trying to fight him. Either way, they weren't very nice. Once he was laying flat, the man attempted to cover himself with the sheets, but he was soon pulled up again. At least this time, a drink was offered to him. He quickly gulped it down, reaching a shaky hand up to attempt to hold the glass himself. It was probably best that he didn't. 

As his hands raised to the light, however, a few more of his many scars showed. His knuckles were covered in scar tissue. When he held his hand out flat, it became even more obvious. There was really only one way to obtain that kind of injury: punching thing. Most of the time, those things were people. 

~~

As soon as the glass was empty, it was gone and while the man who cradled him against a broad chest remained, the other left the room only to return with the glass filled again and a plastic jug of more red drink. Beside him, a small woman with black hair tied back at the nape of her neck and a pinched expression on her thin lips glowered at them all. 

“Fuck, you guys suck at this,” she snapped and taking the jug from the slender man, she set it on the side table, then grabbed the waste bin and some kleenex. She leaned in, wiped his nose and eyes, then pulled back to glare at the other two. She couldn't have been more than five foot four, but the two men looked sufficiently cowed. “He needs to drink more, but not right away. Parcel that out over the next hour or so. We gotta keep liquids in him more than anything. And get that coverlet off of the bed. When he pukes, it's gonna be red and stain.” She waved a hand at the blankets, then set the waste bin beside the bed. “For you,” she stared directly at the patient, “for when you upchuck. If you can't make it, then that's okay. You got some place to go? You got friends you wanna go to? Anyone got your junk you want?” She looked at him and there was a hint of fury under it all, that or disgust. 

“Allie,” the slender man gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “He hasn't asked to go. Let's keep him and if he wants, he'll say something.” He looked behind the patient and lifted a brow in question. “Whatcha think, Spence?” 

“I think if he needs to leave, he will,” the deep voice belonging to the man called Spence thrummed through the barrel chest behind him. “Otherwise, I say we let Momma Boy here keep him.” 

Allie sighed and shook her head. “I'm going to make us something to eat and some coffee. You two idiots are going to need it. He's still strung out. Give him time. He'll be breaking shit before you know it.” She turned and as she left, she muttered, “Hopefully it won't be your heads.” 

The slender man they'd called Momma Boy gave a fond grin at the man behind him and then shrugged. “Okay, let's get him sleeping again. She's right. He's gonna need any rest he can get right now.” 

“You need to puke or you wanna lay down?” Spence rumbled behind him, one thick arm holding the patient upright still. 

~~