Once Chris disappeared from view, Tanner started towards the stairs in a panic.  He knew that he couldn't just stand by and allow Chris to take out his anger and frustration on Michelle.  She didn't ask to be put in this situation and he was willing to accept whatever fate was in store for him for his betrayal.  Just so long as he kept her out of harm's way.

"I'm not letting him touch her Jackson."  Tanner stated, as he headed across the livingroom.  "If you can live with yourself for allowing this to happen, then you're not the man I thought you were."

"Now I know you're not THAT stupid?!"  Jackson yelled, grabbing Tanner mid-stride and spinning him around.  "Do you really think you can just go up there and play the hero?!  That you're any match for Chris?!"

"Then help me!" Tanner pleaded.  "How can you just stand here knowing that he is up there with her and what he is capable of?!  Do you really think he can show any restraint right now Jackson? You know as well as I do, that he could end her life without so much as blinking an eye!"

"It's not our place to tell him what he can and can't do  This is his house!"  Jackson yelled, pushing Tanner back towards the kitchen.  "Whatever happens between those two has nothing to do with us!  I don't WANT to be involved in this mess and you shouldn't want to be either." 

"Yeah, well it's a little too late for that now. I'm already involved! I'm the one who delivered her to him that night at the club."

"What?"

"Nothing.  Just forget it."  Tanner quickly replied, glancing back towards the steps.  "Jackson, you know this isn't right.  Sure, we've done a lot of fucked up shit, but this?  She doesn't deserve this and you know it!"

As Jackson stood there letting Tanner's comments sink in, he mentally looked down the paths that lay ahead of him.  One clearly leading to a secure financial future with Chris as a business partner and best friend, the other leading him back to a time when the line between right and wrong wasn't so blurred. 

"So are you going to help me or what?"

Unfortunately before he had a chance to make the decision himself, the increasingly loud sound of Chris yelling upstairs made his mind up for him. 

"You know this is going to be ugly."  Jackson yelled back over his shoulder, as he sprinted up the stairs.

"I don't care!"  Tanner replied, now taking the steps two at a time. "Just hurry up!"

Once Michelle heard the sound of the voices coming down the hall, her focus immeadiately drifted towards the door.  Not wasting a single second to seize the opportunity that was now before him, Chris immeadiately sprang in to action and grabbed the club with his left hand, tossing it on the floor. Then, in a speed that even Superman would be envious of, Chris reached behind him and grabbed his gun from the back of his pants.

"TALK SHIT NOW!"  Chris yelled, forcefully pinning her head against the wall as he jammed the barrel of the gun in to her temple. "COME ON!"

Paralyzed with fear, Michelle stood there in a complete state of shock.  Her legs, threatening to give out on her as the severity of the situation she was now in took hold. This just wasn't happening. 

"COME ON!  RUN THAT FUCKIN MOUTH NOW!"  Chris screamed at her, pressing the barrel of the gun even harder in to her skin. 

As Michelle continued to shake uncontrollably, Jackson and Tanner finally reached the bedroom.  Once they walked through the doorway, both men gasped in horror. Neither of them expecting to see the heart stopping scene that was now playing out before them.

"Man, what the fuck are you doing?"  Jackson asked, placing his arm across Tanner's waist so that he wouldn't walk any further in to the room. 

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!  You know damn well what the hell he is doing!" 

Turning to face Tanner, Jackson mouthed for him to shut up and proceeded to try and get Chris' attention once again.

"Chris?"

Continuing to ignore the pressence of the two men behind him, Chris adjusted his position slightly so he could look directly in to her eyes. 

"Come on baby.  Where's the fire you had in you just a few minutes ago?  Did you lose your nerve?"

Afraid to make eye contact with Chris, Michelle slowly brought her gaze up to meet Tanner's in a desperate plea for help. 

"Man, do you really think this is called for?!  She slammed the door, so what!  Look at what you're doing to her!"  Tanner yelled, once again trying to make his way past Jackson.

"Make a move TJ.  If you think you can make a difference in how this all plays out......."  Chris said, calmly cocking the gun.  "......then make your move."

Taking a deep breath, Michelle squeezed her eyes closed and prepared herself for what she knew was about to come next. At that moment she wished she would have just kept her mouth shut.  She wished she could take back what she had done to the room.  But mostly she wished she could just leave her body.  Even if it was for only a few minutes.

"Tanner don't. I'm not worth it." Michelle softly cried out, her voice just barely above a whisper.

"Imagine that.  Now you speak."  Chris growled, banging the tip of the gun off her temple in rhythm with each syllable he spoke. "What is it that has you coming to everyone's rescue Michelle?  First it was Wade and now it's that fucking nutcase?!"

"You got a lot of nerve calling me a nutcase Chris."  Tanner replied, the tone of his voice laced with defiance.  "It wasn't even five minutes ago that you were downstairs tearing in to me about what would have happened if she would have been hurt back at the club.  Then what happens?  You turn around and personally put a loaded gun to her head!  Now who's the nutcase!?"

Worried that the situation was only getting worse, Jackson grabbed Tanner and shoved him further in to the hall.

"Can you shut up please!"

"This is fuckin insane!  Can't you see what the hell he is doing to her?!  Look at her Jackson!"

"I can see god damn it, but you're not helping!"  Jackson yelled, turning his attention back towards his partner. "Chris. Come on man. Let her go."

"Get out of here Jackson."

"You know I can't do that.  Not with you holding a gun to her head." Jackson said, taking a few cautious steps closer to the two of them.  "I know you didn't go through all that trouble to protect her at the club just so you could bring her home and hurt her." 

"I'm not hurting her."  Chris replied, pressing the tip of the gun even harder against her head.  "But if it bothers you that much...."  Chris said, placing the gun back on safety and tossing it on to the bed.  "....then here you go.  Take the fuckin thing and leave.  I don't need a gun to take care of this."

"Chris why are you doing this to me!?  You stand there and tell me that you're not like him, but you are.  You're exactly like Wade!"  she sobbed, slowly bringing her gaze to meet his.  "Just do what you have to do and get it over with. I'm tired of fighting."

Looking down as her as she stood helplessly in front of him, Chris felt a wave of guilt wash over him and knew that if anyone's fate had just been sealed...it was his own.

"Chris, just let her go man.  This has gone on long enough."

Glancing over to his best friend, Chris saw the sincere look of concern for Michelle on Jackson's face and hesitantly backed away from her. 

"Go ahead.  Get out of here."  Jackson said, motioning towards the door.

Caught by surprise, Michelle glanced over at Jackson and then back at Chris.  Sure, Jackson was giving her the go ahead to leave, but the decision on whether or not she could actually go rested in the hands of the man that stood before her.

Not saying a word, Chris just stood there.  The look on his face a mixture of love, confusion, rage and hurt. Clearly if one man could have embodied the definition of conflicted at that point, it was Chris. 

"Can you drive?"  Jackson asked, moving back in to her line of sight.

"Yeah." 

"Alright then, come on.  I'll go get your keys."

Letting tears of relief spill from her eyes, Michelle glanced back at Chris one more time and then slowly headed over to where Jackson was waiting.  After everything that had happened, finally...it was over. 

"Are you alright?"  Tanner asked, brushing her hair away from her face so that he could get a look at the mark Chris's gun left on her.

Bringing her hand to her face, Michelle wiped away the tears that were running down her cheek and simply nodded her head.

After wrapping his arm around her shoulder, Tanner proceeded to escort Michelle out the door and down the hall behind Jackson.  He had to admit that he was a bit shocked that Chris was allowing her to leave, but he wasn't about to question it.  He was just thankful things turned out the way they did.  Especially when only seconds ago the potential for disaster was at a high.

"Look, I know that this doesn't make up for what you've been through, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry.  If I could go back in time and change it all, I would.  I never should have left you there with him."  he said, removing his arm from her shoulder so that she could walk down the steps.

"But you did."  Chris replied, quickly walking up from behind them. "So don't try and take the moral high ground now!"

Hearing Chris' voice come from behind him, Jackson stopped half way down the stairs and quickly turned back around.

"Hey!  Let it go Chris.  It's over."

"The fuck it is!  It isn't over until I say it is!" 

"Michelle, go with Jackson."  Tanner said, moving a few feet to the left to try and block Chris from getting any closer to her.

"Man, you better get the fuck out of my face."  Chris growled.

"Chris don't do this."  Michelle said softly, as she cowered behind Tanner.

"Nothing is going to happen to you.  Just come back up here."

"That's not going to happen man.  You know that."  Tanner replied, trying his best to remain calm.  "Just let her walk out of here and this will go a lot easier."

Letting out a slight laugh, Chris just shook his head and stared at Tanner. His patience with him and the entire situation growing very thin.

"Michelle, come on."  Chris said, extending his hand to her.  "Ten minutes.  That's all I'm asking."

"Yeah, give him ten more minutes so he can finish the job."

"You know what..."  Chris yelled, snatching Tanner up by the front of his shirt.  "...I've had enough of your shit tonight!  Who the fuck do you think you are talking to?!"

Fearing the worst, Michelle walked back up the few steps to where Tanner was standing.

"Whoa, back up.  Don't try to get in between them."  Jackson's voice came from behind her.  "Just go down stairs and wait for me."

"But...."

"It's alright.  Just go down stairs and wait for me."  Jackson repeated again.

Reluctantly taking his advice, Michelle switched positions with Jackson and began heading down the stairs.

As Jackson proceeded to maneuver in to the spot previously occupied by Michelle, Chris began pulling on Tanner's shirt in an attempt to bring him to the top of the stairs. 

"Chris, let him go!"

"Oh I'll let him go.  Right after I beat the fucking shit out of him!"  Chris growled and continued to try and pull Tanner towards the top of the stairs.  "Come on you son of a bitch!   Talk your shit up here!  Let's see how far it gets you!"

"You've lost your god damn mind!  You know that right?!"  Tanner said, holding on to the rail even tighter.

"I MAY HAVE LOST MY MIND, BUT YOUR ABOUT TO LOSE A WHOLE LOT MORE!"

"GOD!  WHAT THE FUCK HAS GOT IN TO YOU?!"  Jackson yelled, trying his hardest to pry Chris' hands off of Tanner while still keeping his balance on the stairs. 

"I'M NOT LETTING ANYONE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!  LEAST OF ALL THIS PIECE OF SHIT!"  he snapped back, and with one final tug managed to break the grasp that Tanner had on the rail.  "COME ON MOTHER FUCKER!  YOU WANNA DO THIS, WE'LL DO THIS!"

"LET HIM GO CHRIS!"

Knowing that she could put a stop to the fight by simply agreeing to talk to Chris, Michelle turned back around and proceeded to head back up the stairs.  Unfortunately before anyone even knew she was coming back up, a sinister smile spread across Chris lips and he looked back over at Jackson.

"Alright, fine.  I'll let him go." 

After giving Tanner nothing more than an arrogant smile, Chris hooked his foot behind Tanner's and shoved him backwards.

Chapter 152

Unable to keep his balance, Tanner tried desperately to grab a hold of the rail.  Unfortunately the force from Chris' shove proved to be more momentum than he could fight off and he felt himself begin to fall backwards.

"Next time you'll think twice before you step up to me!"  Chris yelled, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. 

Quickly realizing that he may be Tanner's only hope of salvation, Jackson spun around and tried to grab his arm. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough and a new realization was about to grab hold. 

"Michelle, watch out!"  Jackson yelled.

Seeing Tanner headed straight for her, Michelle instinctively put up her hands in an attempt to stop him. 

"Michelle, MOVE!" Jackson yelled once again.

Continuing to ignore the yelling, Michelle braced herself against the side of the railing and silently said a prayer.  She knew she just couldn't step to the side and watch him fall knowing that there was even the slightest chance she could stop him.  She had to at least try.

Then almost as if in slow motion, Jackson watched on in horror as Tanner crashed right in to her, knocking her feet out from underneath her and sending her crashing in to the stairs. 

With his momentum now slowed, Tanner quickly grabbed a hold of one of the rails and brought his painful decent to a stop.  Unfortunately there was little he could do for Michelle who was now only a few feet from the bottom of the staircase. 

After firing back a look of disgust and utter contempt at Chris, Jackson quickly ran down the stairs. 

"You alright man?"  Jackson asked, stopping briefly at Tanner's side.

Grabbing the back of his head, Tanner scooted back against the railing and nodded his head.

"I'll be fine.  Just go help Michelle."  he moaned out, squeezing his eyes closed in response to the throbbing pain radiating through the back of his skull.

"Are you happy now Chris?!  Huh?!"  Jackson yelled as he continued down the stairs.  "You wanted to do some damage...and you did!  To both of them!"

Standing there in a state of complete shock and confusion over what he had just done, Chris' heart began to race inside his chest and everything around him began to fade to an eery shade of grey. 

"Chris?!  Are you going to help me or what?!  CHRIS!"

Then, almost as if Jackson's yelling had snapped him out of a trance, Chris looked down at his best friend.  Once the two locked eyes, Jackson noticed that Chris' eyes were beginning to glaze over and that his hands were literally shaking at his sides.  Unsure exactly what to make of the situation, Jackson kept his focus locked on his partner as he crouched down next to Michelle.

"Jackson.....I can't breathe!"

"It's alright.  Just hold on."  he replied, slowly trying to bring her to a seated position.   "You probably just got the wind knocked out of you." 

"Owww.  No.....stop. Please! Stop!"  she cried out, arching away from him as she clutched at her side.

"Chris!  I need your help man!  What the fuck are you standing there for?!"

"I said I wouldn't...but I did." Chris mumbled softly, averting his attention back towards the bedroom. "I did."

Unfortunately as Chris continued to stand there oblivious to anything Jackson was saying, Michelle began to cough up blood and the realization that something was terribly wrong began to sink in. 

"CHRIS?!"

Hearing Jackson continue with his yelling, Tanner forced his eyes open and glanced up at Chris in astonishment.  The fact that he was still standing there catching him completely by surprise.

"What is his problem?!"  Tanner yelled, slowly pulling himself in to an upright position so that he could try and offer Jackson some assistance with Michelle.  "Seriously! Can't he see she needs help?!"

"Obviously not!" 

"What do you want me to do?"  Tanner asked, crouching down beside the two of them as Chris continued to spew nonsense from the top of the stairs.

"We have to get her to the hospital.  Can you drive?"

"Honestly, I don't know."  he replied, still squinting his eyes. "Can't you take her?"

"I can, but I'd rather go deal with that sorry son of a bitch!"  Jackson snapped back, once again directing his attention towards Chris.

"Well then, let's just get her to my car."

"Alright."  Jackson said, shifting posting.  "Michelle, TJ's gonna take you to the hospital.  Just drape your arms over our shoulders.  We're gonna carry you."

Not wanting to speak, Michelle simply nodded her head and wrapped her right arm around Tanner.  After slowly pulling her left arm from her side, Michelle attempted to put it around Jackson's neck and cried out in pain.

"Man, we can't do this.  I mean, for all we know we're making things worse.  Just call an ambulance." 

Shaking his head with utter disbelief, Jackson stood up and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.  After placing the call to 911, Jackson flipped his phone shut and crouched back down beside them.

"There coming.  Just hang in there."

As Michelle struggled to maintain her breathing, both Jackson and Tanner looked back up at Chris who was slowly lowering himself in to a seated position on the top step. 

"Seriously Jackson.  What the hell is wrong with him?"

"I don't know man, but I'm beginning to think she isn't the only one that needs help."  he said, a tone of seriousness in his voice as he watched Chris stare off in to space.

"Yeah, you're telling me."  Tanner growled sarcastically and shifted positions slightly so that he could help hold Michelle still.  "God, how much longer until they get here?"

"There on the way man. Relax."

Finally after another ten minutes of intense stare downs and questions unanswered, Jackson and Tanner heard the sound of sirens approaching in the distance.

"You got her man?  I'm gonna go meet them in the driveway." 

"Yeah, go ahead."

Once Jackson headed back across the room towards the front door, Tanner scooter a bit closer and took her hand in his.

"It's going to be alright.  You know that, don't you?"

"No....it won't."  she replied softly and looked up the stairs towards Chris.

"Don't even look at him.  You're just going to get yourself all worked up and you don't need that right now.  He isn't worth it." 

Hearing a sudden commotion come from the other end of the house, Tanner looked over his shoulder and saw Jackson and two paramedics headed their way.  After making sure she was in good hands with the paramedics, Tanner stood back up and headed over to join Jackson.

"You think she's going to be alright."

"I hope so man."  he replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched one of the paramedics head back out to the truck. 

"I'm going to ride with her.  I mean, we don't know who to call for her and I really don't want her to be there alone, you know?"

"No, it's cool man.  You go make sure she's alright.  If you need anything, just hit my cell."

Nodding his head, Tanner stepped back and allowed the paramedic to pull their equipment over to the stairs.  As they slowly worked to get Michelle on to the stretcher, she began to cry out in pain and Tanner clenched his fists. 

"He's not going to get away with this.  I hope you know that."  Tanner said, leaning in towards Jackson as they raised the stretcher up.

Unsure of what to say, Jackson just shrugged his shoulders and glanced at Chris once again. 

"Hey, can I ride with you?"  Tanner asked the paramedics, once again taking Michelle's hand in his.

"Yeah.  Come on." 

As Jackson followed them to the front door, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell the deal was with his best friend.  Chris wasn't the type of person to just completely withdraw from everything and everyone and that worried him.  More than he was letting on or would admit to.

"Hey TJ, call me when you know anything." 

"I will."

Once Tanner hopped in to the back of the ambulance, the driver shut both doors and proceeded around to the cab.  After he climbed inside and closed his door, he turned on the lights and pulled out of the driveway. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Knowing that Michelle was now safely on her way to get help, Chris placed both hands on the step beside him and slowly pushed himself up.  After straightening his shirt, Chris dusted off his pants and casually headed back down the hall like nothing had happened. 

Once he reached his bedroom, he glanced down at the broken vase and debris from earlier and felt sick to his stomach.  After kicking it to the side, Chris only made it a few more feet before a flash of light from the mirror on the wall caught his attention and he stopped mid-stride.  After studying his reflection for a few seconds, Chris squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force himself to focus on the present.  To his life now.  To the life he built for himself outside the shadow of his father.

Unfortunately in his weakened state of mind, the past he tried so hard to block out, quickly overpowered him and unleashed a flood of childhood memories.  Glimpses back in to his relationship with his mother playing in slow motion like a classic film in black and white. The mother he loved and cherished more than anything.  Glimpses back in to his relationship or lack there of with his father.  The countless arguements he would hear his parents having because of him. 

Letting out a what could only be describe as a slight cry, Chris laced his hands on top of his head and mentally scolded himself for allowing things to turn out the way they had.  He vowed long ago that he would one day have the courage to stand up to his father.  That he wouldn't tolerate people disrespecting him and that he would make something out of his life, on his own.  And he had.  But of all the promises he made to himself so long ago, none were more important to him than the one he just broke.

Opening his eyes back up, he began to study his reflection once again when something else caught his eye.  Slowly turning to his right, Chris spotted his gun still laying on his bed and felt an odd sense of comfort wash over him.  Not wanting to give himself the opportunity to second guess what he was about to do, Chris quickly locked the door and headed over to the bed.  Once he picked the gun up, he studied it for a few seconds before glancing back up at his reflection in the mirror one last time.  Knowing that he could never look at himself the same way he once had, Chris wrapped his fingers around the cold steel of the handle and disengaged the safety. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the ambulance was out of sight, Jackson let out a breathy laugh and closed the front door. 

"You know what, I'm about ten seconds away from walking up those stairs and kicking your ass, so you better start talking."  Jackson growled, as he turned around to confront his best friend.  Unfortunately once he glanced up the stairs he realized Chris was no longer there and called out to him.

"Chris?"

When he didn't receive a reply, Jackson began to survey the downstairs for any sign of his best friend.  But before Jackson could even finish his search, he heard a door slam shut upstairs and knew he didn't need to look any further. 

"That mother fucker."

Shaking his head with disbelief, Jackson stormed up after him.  If Chris thought that locking himself in a room was going to save him from getting an earful, then he had another thing coming. This was clearly long overdue.

"Hey Chris!"

Seeing that his bedroom door was now closed, Jackson knew where his best friend was hiding and headed down the hall.  Unfortunately, just as he was about to grab the door handle, a loud pop echoed through the entire house and he froze in place. 

Pulling his now trembling hand away from the door handle, Jackson prayed that he would hear something, anything come from the other side of that closed door.  That the now ringing sound in his ears was a lie.  Unfortunately after a few more moments of deafening silence, Jackson's heart dropped to his stomach and he knew without a doubt that what he heard......was Chris' gun. 

Chapter 153

Once Michelle was secured in the ambulance, the EMTs went about the routine checking her blood pressure and various other vitals on their way to the hospital. After they had noted the statistics on her chart the young woman began trying to doa more detailed assessment of her injuries.

“Michelle can you tell me where it hurts?” the young female technician asked as she shifted positions.

“Here.” Michelle all but spat out in pain as she pointed to the lower portion of her ribs. 

The young woman gently pressed two fingers against the area that Michelle indicated, eliciting a cry of pain from her. Gently removing her fingers, the young woman made a few more notes and then continued to gently press on different areas of Michelle’s abdomen. Ever so often asking ‘how about here?’ or ‘does this hurt?’. 

After marking down her findings, the young woman rested the chart on Michelle's thighs and checked her vitals once again.

"Is she gonna be alright?” Tanner piped in out of nowhere. “I mean, you don't think it's anything serious do you?” 

“Once we get to the hospital, we’ll be able to tell for sure, but I think she’s going to be fine. More than likely when she hit the stairs she probably bruised or cracked a few ribs.  That would also explain the tenderness and difficulty breathing."

Nodding his head, Tanner grabbed Michelle’s other hand giving it a reassuring squeeze and within minutes they were pulling into the emergency entrance of UCLA Medical Center. 

"Alright Michelle. 

Once the ambulance pulled up to the bay, the driver got out and walked around the back of the vehicle to open the doors.  After Tanner hopped out of the ambulance, the female technician jumped out as well and pointed towards the hospital.

"If you go through that door to your left you'll see the triage area.  Tell them that we just brought someone in and they'll help you get her paperwork started." 

"Alright, thanks."  he replied and watched as Michelle was wisked through the double set of doors off to his right. 

After she was out of sight, Tanner let out a heavy sigh and headed in to the hospital. 

"Can I help you sir?"  an older gentleman asked as he sat behind a small desk.

"Yeah, umm....a friend of mine was just brought in by ambulance.  They told me to come over here and fill out some paperwork or something."

"If you want to come with me I can get that started for you." he heard a woman's voice say from behind him.

Looking over to his right, Tanner spotted a middle aged woman walking back towards the triage area with a stack of charts. 

"You can take a seat at the first desk once you go through that door."  she continued. "I'll be with one in a minute."

Running his hand through his short hair in frustration, Tanner followed her instructions and headed over to the small room just off the front of the ER next to the receptionist desk. He really didn’t want to be doing this right now, but he figured if it was going to help Michelle, then he was going to do it. Even if it did seem insignificant at the moment. 

“Ok….” The woman started, flipping through what Tanner assumed was Michelle’s chart. “Looks like we have her name as Michelle Gianetti, 21 years of age, no allergies and…ummmm…..looks like that’s all they got from her before they took her back.” she continued, typing the information into the computer.

Funny, Tanner thought. Up until now he hadn’t known that her last name or how old she was. She was younger than him. A little younger than he thought she might have been, but not much.

“What is your relationship to the patient?”  the woman asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Oh umm…..we’re friends.” 

"Alright, and what's the reason for her visit?"

"She uh...she fell down the stairs."  he answered, an uncomfortable feeling washing over him as he shifted positions in his chair.

After giving him a questioning glance, she clicked through a few more screens and Tanner began to get restless.

“Look is all of this really necessary?” he asked, already annoyed by the onslaught of questions he knew was coming. 

“If I had a nickle for everytime I've been asked that question...” she said with a slight laugh “...but yes they are necessary and I assure you their all standard questions.” 

Simply nodding his head that he understood, Tanner continued to answer her questions. 

"Do you happen to have her current insurance card?"

"Actually, no I don't."

"Ok.  We can try to get that information from her."

“Umm...any known domestic violence in the household?” 

“No…..no not to my knowledge.” 

There was lie #1.

“Any history of drug use?” she asked, typing his answers in to the computer.

“Again, not that I know of.” 

Lie # 2.  How many was she going to make him ramble off? 

"Does she smoke?"

Now clearly frustrated, Tanner ran his hand down his face and let out a slight laugh.

"No.  I can't say that I've ever seen her smoke."

After another five or ten minutes of making up answers to the questions he didn’t know and lying about the ones he didn't want to disclose, the woman filled out the last of her paperwork and placed her chart in another stack on her desk.

"Ok, if you want to go have a seat in the waiting room, someone will come out and get you as soon as they know anything." 

"You mean I can't go back and see her now?" Tanner asked, his frustration now growing every second.

"Well right now they are probably doing a more extensive assessment.  Then if the doctor feels she needs x-rays, he'll send her down to radiology.  Once they get all their tests done and get her settled in to a room, you can go back and see her."

"Then can someone atleast tell her that I'll be out in the waiting room?"

"Yeah, I'll make sure she knows you're here."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Tanner grabbed his phone from his front pocket and headed outside to make a phone call.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trace headed out of Area night club with a little less swagger than he had when he entered. He wasn’t wasted, but drunk he definitely was. It had been a good night, and now it was time to go get some nice greasy food to end it right. He wished that Justin had come with them tonight, but instead he had opted to stay at home and throw himself a good old fashioned pity party. That fact that he had still not made contact with Michelle weighing heavily on his mind. 

“Hey yo dude, I swear if you don’t get your drunk ass over here now, I’m leaving you.” Trace yelled to Tony, half laughing.

Tony jogged briskly across the street, almost meeting his fate more than once by passing cars. When he finally reached Trace, he turned back to the traffic, throwing his arms up in the air at the motorists blaring horns. 

“Damn, a man cant cross the street?” he asked in a slurred voice, clearly seeing himself as a victim in his drunken state. 

“Oh my God man get in the car!” Trace instructed, trying to sound serious but failing miserably. 

“I’m telling you Ayala what we need to do is get some food, find some bitches, and drag Timberlake’s sorry ass out of that house of his.” Tony announced as if he had come up with the greatest plan known to man. 

Trying to unlock his car, all Trace could do was laugh and shake his head as his friend began to sing a song about his plan, and start doing an impromptu dance that in all its glory looked more like a full body seizure. 

“Dude it looks like your body is vomiting!” Trace spat out, doubling over with laughter as his friend ignored him and continued his masterful performance. 

“Food, bitches, food and bitches. Gonna get Justin’s sorry ass then some food and bitches.” Tony continued to sing and dance next to the car. 

By this point Trace was laughing so hard that he could hardly breathe. Tony was really committing himself to his little routine, which was making it that much more funny. The fact that he was taking himself so seriously at the moment was too much, but the fact that there was now a small crowd of drunk onlookers beginning to form around Tony was more than he could handle. Apparently Trace wasn’t the only thoroughly entertained by his friend’s antics. 

It wasn’t long before what Trace knew what would inevitably happen. Tony was really getting into his little performance, now adding verses to his ‘Food and Bitches’ song and somehow between his suave foot work and lyrical genius, Tony lost the ground beneath him on what would have been the third round of his chorus. 

“Food, bitches, food and...” he hadn’t even gotten halfway through the line when he went down like a pile of bricks. 

It was almost like it happened in slow motion. It was like one of those things where you see something happening and you wish you could stop it, you really do.  Hell, maybe if you weren’t laughing so hard it might have been a possibility, but the fact remained the same. You didn’t stop it and thank God for it, because that just might have been the funniest shit you have ever seen in your life! 

“Dude? Dude? Oh my fucking God! Dude, are you alright?” Trace laughed out trying his best to reach his friend. “Oh my God dude! Your fucking bleeding, are you okay?” Trace asked, trying to sound concerned but failing miserably at it. 

Lifting his fingers to his forehead, Tony dabbed blindly at his fresh wound and then brought his blood stained hand into view. After examining it closely with a look of shock on his face, Tony busted into a fit of hysterical laughter. 

“Ok……now its stitches, food, bitches and then Timberlake’s house” he announced with a slight shrug, continuing to laugh uncontrollably.

Chapter 154

As Jackson continued to stand there in a state of shock, his mind began trying to process what he could have done, if anything, to stop his best friend.  Was there any indication that Chris was thinking of taking his own life?  Was there some sign he missed?  Some act of desperation on his part?

Trying to think back to the events that played out earlier today, Jackson struggled to recall anything that stood out.  Sure, tonight pushed the envelope when it came to irrational and violent behavior, but the actions themself weren't really that abnormal as far as Chris was concerned.  So...what was it?  What was different now?  What emotionally could have pushed him over that proverbial edge? 

"Jesus Chris man."  Jackson gasped, resting his still shaky frame up against the wall.  "Why the hell did you do it?" 

As he tried to make sense of it all, to piece together what he could only describe as a puzzle with no obvious solution, Jackson heard a small thud come from the other side of the door and jumped back up.  Once the realization hit that his best friend could still be alive, Jackson frantically began trying to gain access to Chris' bedroom.

"Chris!  Just hang on man!"  he shouted, quickly grabbing the door handle.  "FUCK!"

Remembering that it was still locked, Jackson groaned out load and knew that there was only one way to quickly gain access to his best friend.  Not wanting to waste any precious time, Jackson quickly pulled his own gun from his waistband and took aim at the lock on the door.

Taking a deep breath, Jackson pulled the trigger, sending large chunks of wood flying away from the frame of the door. He had never had a problem pulling a trigger in his life, but this time it felt as if it took all the strength he had to pull back the tiny piece of metal. 

After waving away the small amount of dust that had accumulated, Jackson surveyed the door andrealized that one bullet was just not going to do the trick. Quickly popping two more bullets into the thick wooden door, Jackson placed his gun back in the waist of his pants and gave the door two hardy kicks. 

When he was finally able to enter the room, he stopped dead in his tracks almost as soon as he set foot in it. Quickly searching around the room for Chris, he finally found him slumped over on the floor at the foot of his bed. His fingers still wrapped around the handle of the gun as it rested on the floor beside him. 

Never taking his eyes off his best friend, Jackson slowly began to close the distance between them. Pieces of a once priceless vase cracking under his feet with each step. Truth be told, you probably couldn’t have stepped anywhere in that room at that point and not crushed the remains of something that used to be worth more than most peoples cars.  Shaking his head, Jackson couldn’t help but think ‘there must be about a quarter of a million dollars worth of rubble on this floor’ 

Stopping a couple of feet away from Chris, Jackson ran his hand down his face in frustration.  The past 24 hours had produced more problems than he had experienced in his entire life. Then, out of nowhere, Jackson heard the cocking sound of Chris' gun and froze mid thought, his hand still pressed against his face. 

Peeking from behind his fingers, Jackson saw that Chris’ hadn't budged from his position on the floor, but his gun was now aimed directly at him.  Letting out a breathy laugh, Jackson knew his level of frustration was teetering on hysteria.

“I locked the door for a reason you know.” Chris said calmly, still not bothering to make eye contact with his best friend. 

“I should shoot you!” Jackson laughed out in frustration, quickly retrieving his own fire arm. “I should just blow your crazy ass away right now, on general principal alone!  Seriously!  What the fuck are you doing?!” 

Glancing up at Jackson briefly, Chris just shook his head and let his arm drop back to his side. After leaning his back against the bed, Chris surveyed the room all over again, that same glazed over look still present in his eyes. 

“She really fucked up this room, didn’t she?” he asked more so to himself than Jackson. 

Standing there in amazement, Jackson couldn’t have had a response to that one even if Chris had been talking to him. Slowly lowering his own gun, Jackson studied the look on his friend’s face intently as he placed his gun back in his waistband. He looked confused. Like he had been randomly dropped into the situation exactly as it was and he had no idea what to do with it.  But before he could analyze his friend anymore, Jackson heard the muffled sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. After fishing out the small device, he glanced at the caller I.D. before flipping it open. 

“Whats up?” he asked into the receiver. 

“I’m still waiting for the official word, but it doesn’t look like anything too major. She‘s mostly just pretty banged up.” Tanner answered with a heavy sigh 

“That’s good. That’s real good.” 

“So  uh...what’s the deal with Chris?” Tanner asked, not even sure if he cared.

“I‘ll handle Chris.” Jackson replied, without really answering the question. “Hey, while you're up there, can you see if you can find anything out about Wade?“ 

“Oh yeah, no problem Jackson. I’ll just walk right on up to the front desk and ask them for an updated.” Tanner snapped back sarcastically. 

“Ok whoa, wait a fucking minute.  I know your feeling a little on edge right now, so I’m gonna go ahead and let all the little outbursts you‘ve been having lately slide...” Jackson started. “...but let me make this abundantly clear to you. You are just about the last person that I’m gonna take shit from……especially after the shit you pulled tonight. So you better check yourself and remember who the fuck it is that you work for.” 

Slightly in shock, Tanner remained silent on the other end. It was a rare occasion for Jackson to lose his cool and to practically  getting his head ripped off by him at the moment, said a lot about what he was dealing with. 

“Oh...and one more thing. You should really say ‘Thank You’ to the angel that kept Chris from killing you tonight. I’m telling you right now man, you pull some shit like that again and if he doesn’t do it, I’ll kill you my damn self.” Jackson said flipping the phone shut. 

Sure, he and Chris might argue like some twilight zone version of the odd couple, but Jackson wasn’t about to let anyone disrespect the man he called his best friend and he knew Chris would extend him the same courtesy. 

“Is she ok?” Chris asked quietly, now standing near the window. 

“Why? You care all of a sudden?” Jackson asked with a light, almost disgusted laugh. 

“Look, I just asked if the girl was alright. You don’t have to go and make a federal fucking case about it.” 

“That’s just it Chris. Any and every time something comes up with this girl you're the one making a big deal out of it!” Jackson yelled, disbelief apparent in the tone of his voice. “I mean,Jesus Christ Chris! One minute your about to kill the girl for something she didn’t even know she did, if that’s not the case, your threatening to kill someone else for simply breathing in her direction. But I'm the one making a federal case about this!?” 

Running his hand through his slightly damp hair, Chris let out an almost defeated sigh. He didn’t even have the energy to argue at this point. What was left to say? He didn’t want to admit that even he thought he was going off the deep end lately or that he felt more for Michelle than he was letting on.  But he did.  He didn’t want to admit that he was slipping when it came to business or that he was pushing the only real friend he had away. But mostly, he didn’t want to admit that he just felt lost. Nothing was making him happy anymore. Nothing made sense. How could so many things become so unclear in a matter of days? 

“What do you want me to say man?” Chris asked tossing his hands up on the air. “I’m just...fuck...I don’t know.  I don't know what you want me to say!” 

“I don’t want you to say anything Chris. What I want is for you to get your shit together and stop acting like an even bigger lunatic than you normally do!  Let's look at the facts here.  You almost killed Wade with you bare hands, you threw TJ down a flight of stairs, you pull a gun on Michelle and then you go and shoot up your fuckin room?!"  Jackson yelled, motioning to the shattered mirror as it hung on the wall.  "Dude, that shit is not normal!  Even for you Chris!” 

“Wade and Tanner deserved exactly what they got.....and that mirror was just bothering me.” Chris said nonchalantly as he glared back out the window. 

“Do you even hear yourself?” Jackson asked in disbelief. “Ok, so Tanner and Wade got what they deserved.  What about Michelle? Did she get what she deserved?  Did you put her in her place?” 

"FUCK YOU!" Chris yelled, quickly turning back around to face his best friend. "YOU KNOW DAMN WELL SHE DIDN'T FUCKIN DESERVE IT!"

“Why did you do it then man? Why wouldn’t you just let her go?” 

“BECAUSE SHE MADE ME FEEL ALIVE AGAIN, ALRIGHT?!  In the short amount of time that she was in my life, she hated me, wanted me, feared me...and I hated, wanted and feared her right back!  DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO GO THROUGH LIFE AND NOT FEEL LIKE YOU'RE LIVING?!  TO WAKE UP EVERY FUCKING DAY AND WONDER WHY THE FUCK YOU ARE ALONE?!"

Jackson stood there and was rendered completely speechless by Chris’ confession. It didn’t even sound like the Chris that he had known for almost forever. Honestly, he looked like he was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. 

“She was the first good thing I’ve had in my life since...I can remember."  Chris sighed, thinking back.  "I had to make her stay. I couldn't just let her walk out of my life like that.  I just...I just wanted that goodness ya know?" 

“Look Chris, its understandable for you to want something good...even innocent in your life. But if your looking for someone to feel sorry for you, you’re barking up the wrong tree. We got our cards man and we played em. Your life doesn’t get to be all about sunshine and rainbows just because one day you want it to.” Jackson began, but despite the harshness of his words, his tone held a hint of sympathy. "Besides, that girl, the one your trying so desperately to hold on to and push away at the same time? She isn't simply a way to make you feel better about yourself.  She's a fucking person and incase you hadn’t noticed...she’s losing everything you like about her. All that goodness that you want so bad, your fucking sucking her dry. Your gonna take and take and take until she’s got nothing left for you. And then what? After all that ’goodness’ is gone and there's nothing left of her but an empty shell, are you going to move on to another girl?"

"I'M NOT SUCKING HER DRY!"  Chris yelled, the pain in his voice evident as Jackson's words began to sink in. 

“JESUS CHRIST CHRIS! ARE YOU DILLUSIONAL?  You did god knows what to her while you had her and you think you haven't all but destroyed every last bit of innocence she has?!  You forced that girl in to a situation she couldn't escape from.  What do you think that does to a person?  Do you seriously think she can see the world with the same perspective as she did before?"

"People change Jackson!   You think they can't overcome adversity?  That once you've been through something tramatic that you shut yourself away from the world and never recover?  Because if that was the case, I wouldn't be standing here!  I can get her through this.  I just need the chance."

"You can't get her through this man!"   Jackson yelled, as he watched Chris' expression change.  "You're not the solution, you're part of the problem.  I mean, honestly.  Do you think that you can just turn this nightmare around and make something out of it?  That she could somehow forgive you for the hell you put her through?"

"Why do you even care? Seriously Jackson, since when do you give a shit about what’s going on with me and Michelle?” he asked, walking backing over to his bed.

"THERE IS NO ‘YOU AND MICHELLE’!  THERE NEVER WAS! You held the girl against her will for days on end!  Last time I checked that was a defining characteristic of a hostage, not a girlfriend .  When is it going to sink in?!  Just let the girl go and face it.  She'll never look at you the way she looked at Wade!"

"Oh, so now Wade is the ideal man for her?!  Seriously, enlighten me!  I mean, what did she do Jackson?  She look at him longingly back at the club?  Maybe you saw a bit of desire in her eyes or something as his hands were wrapped around her throat?!"  Chris yelled, now completely fed up with the direction their conversation had gone.

"Hey, I'm just stating the obvious.  I mean, you were there." Jackson replied, as he watched Chris head his way. 

"I don't even know why I bothered."  Chris said, grabbing his gun from the floor before storming out his bedroom door.

Chapter 155

Once they reached Trace’s sleek SUV, Trace helped Tony into the passenger seat before making his way to the driver’s side. After he got himself situated, he began to fumble around in the back seat. Moments later he produced a random t-shirt handing it to Tony. 

“Here hold this on your…….thingy.” he instructed motioning at the wound on Tony’s head and handing him the shirt. 

Tony stared at the shirt questioningly and then back at Trace. He looked almost confused. 

“Dude put the shirt on your head!” he laughed out, pushing his hand with the t-shirt in it up toward his forehead. “Seriously dude! Your bleeding all over my fucking car, cover it up!” 

Once Trace finally got his friend to cover the gaping wound on his head, he began to head toward UCLA Medical Center. Both men laughing uncontrollably the entire way, singing what Tony had now dubbed as his ‘new hit’. 

“You think J could turn this into a single?” Tony asked jokingly, turning his head to Trace. 

“Are you serious?” Trace asked through hiccups of laughter. “Dude Justin could write a song about taking a shit and it’d debut at number one with a bullet on Billboard.” 

Both men looked at each other seriously for a moment, before erupting in a fit of laughter all over again. Tony could turn any situation into a night of comedy. 

After about ten minutes and several renditions of ‘Food and Bitches’, they finally arrived at the hospital. Tony just about bit the dust for a second time while getting out of the car, in what Trace could only describe as an after shock of the seizure his body was clearly having before. He really needed to stop trying to dance. 

Making their way through the emergency entrance, they headed up to the registration desk to get Tony signed in. Trace couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Tony flirt with the young nurse that was gawking at his injury. 

“So what are youuuuu doing lil lady?” he asked in his ‘I think I’m sober’ voice. 

“Working.” The young lady replied giving him a look that was half annoyed and half disturbed. 

“Well when you get off, your more than welcome to come with us.” then, leaning over the counter he leaned into her, and whispered as if he were telling her the location of the holy grail. “we’re gettin’ food and bitches” 

“I’ll pass.” she replied raising one eyebrow. 

“it’s a one time offer baby! I’m tellin you honey if you pass up this opportunity you will regret it for the rest of your life.” 
The nurse didn’t reply, only giving him a sideways glance that said she was about thirty seconds from calling for security. 

Trying desperately to catch his breath, Trace grabbed his friend by the shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, really I am. He’s umm….” he started glancing back at Tony “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Clearly he knocked himself retarded on that fall.” he managed to get out. 

“Your loss baby! Your loss!” Tony yelled over his shoulder as he and Trace went to wait for someone to come and inform them when a room was available.

"Yo, wait.  Where's my phone dude?"  Tony asked, jumping to his feet as serveral others in the large waiting area looked on.

"I don't have you phone!"  Trace laughed, trying desperately to pull his friend back down in to his seat.  "Why on earth would I have your phone?"

"I don't know."  Tony continued, now feeling around in every pocket he had.  "I need it though man.  I gotta call J so he can get to work on this song!" 

"What you need to do is sit down."  Trace said, noticing the looks they were getting from the clearly aggitated elderly couple beside them.

"Wonder if J will need any help with the choreography.  I bet I could bust out some killer moves for him."

"Isn't that what got you here?"  Trace asked, now full on laughing at his friends once again attempt to dance.  "Seriously dude, sit down!  You're going to get us kicked out of here!"

As Trace continued to to try and wrangle his friend back in to his chair, he heard the faint sound of his own phone coming from his pocket.  Knowing he couldn't possibly tend to both tasks, Trace let out another hearty laughed and released his hold on Tony so that he could grab his phone.  After looking down at the caller ID, Trace just shook his head at the irony and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Hey man.  What are you doing?"

"Sitting in the waiting room of UCLA medical waiting to get Tony's head stitched up." 

"What?!"

"Long story. One definitely worth hearing about, but just not right now and not from me.  He'll fill you in, trust me." 

"Hey, is that J?"  Tony asked, plopping back down in to his chair so that he could try and listen in on his conversation.  "Let me talk to him.  I have to tell him about the food and bitches!"  he yelled, quickly snatching the phone from him.
"Yo Justin!  What's up man!"

"Nothing. Dude, what the fuck did you do to your head?"  Justin asked, pulling the phone back slightly from his ear as Tony continued to yell.

"It's nothing dude.  Just a little scratch."  he began, once again standing back up.  "But yo!  Dude!  I have this killer track I want you to lay down!  I'm telling you man, top of the chart hit for sure." 

"Really."  Justin said, more so making a statement than asking. "And you came up with this chart topper?"

"Yeah man!   It like...just hit me when we were on our way to get you after we left the club."

"On your way to get me?"

"Yeah, dude!  You need to get out of that house!  Ever since that shit with Missy, Melissa..."

"It's Michelle."  Justin chimed in, annoyance obviously present in the tone of his voice.

"Whatever it was dude. I mean, does it matter?  She's gone!"

"You know what man, just put Trace back on the phone."

"You don't want to hear about 'Food and Bitches' now?"

"No."  he stated bluntly.  "Put him on."

Making a face at Justin's reluctance to hear his idea, Tony handed the phone back to Trace.

"Talk some sense in to him Tracey.  He's still hung up on that dancing girl."

Giving Tony a look of disappoinment, Trace watched Tony shimmy over to the vending machine before placing the phone back to his ear.

"Hey, sorry about that man."

"How much did you let him drink?"

"Oh he drank plenty."  Trace said, laughing slightly as he glanced over his shoulder as Tony.  "He'll definitely pay for it in the morning though.  Trust me."  he continued, hoping that his best friend would continue on with the reason he called and not address the 'proverbial' elephant that Tony invited in to the conversation.

Unfortunately after a few awkward moments of silence, Trace knew exactly what was running through his best friend's mind.

"You alright man?"  Trace asked, running his fingers quickly through his hair before scratching his head.

"What do you think?"  he said, frustration and pain evident in this tone of his voice.  "Seriously?  Where the hell is she Trace?!"

"I wish I had an answer for you man, I really do....but I don't."

"No one has seen or heard from her and other than asking that fuckin prick if he has, I'm out of ideas."

"Then honestly Justin, go ask Wade.  I mean, I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life, but Tony's got a point. You sit around all day and wait for her to call and if by some miracle we do convince you to get out of the house for a few hours, all you do is go drive by her apartment or a few clubs looking for her car.  You can't keep doing this."

"What the hell do you want me to do?!  I mean the girl damn near took her life in front of me and then took off!  How can you expect me to just forget the way she was when I saw her last and not think the worst?!"

"Maybe she just needs some time alone, to think, to breathe." Trace said, once again glancing over his shoulder at Tony who was now involved in a heated conversation with the bag of cheetos that would not unhook itself from it's precarious position between the two rows of snacks.  "It hasn't been that long man.  Just give her some time."

"I think she's had plenty of time.  Honestly, for all I know something happened to her!  She's could be out there, god knows where, waiting for someone to come and find her!"

"Alright, now you're getting a little dramatic."

"Am I?!"

"Yes, you are."  Trace snapped back.  "Do you even hear yourself?!  What's next man?  You gonna call every hospital in LA and ask them if she or a person fitting her description was admitted? Go down to the police station and fill out a missing person report?!"

"HOLD UP!  DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF?!  I can't believe you are giving me a hard time about this!  You, of all people, should understand why I'm worried."

"Then you know what man, do what you got to do.  I just don't want to see you throw away your life and career chasing after the shadow of a girl who, in all honesty, probably doesn't want to be found."

"Whatever man.  Forget I even called.  You and Tony just continue on with your evening of debauchery and I'll see you when I see you."

"Justin, don't be like....."

Unfortunately before Trace could even finish his comment, Justin had hung up.  Letting out a heavy sigh, Trace flipped his phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket before turning around to see what Tony was up to. 

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?"  he asked, watching Tony stagger slightly to his left as he held out his hand in front of two young females.

"Trying to get some change!  That god damn machine is holding my cheetos for ransom.  I figured another seventy five cents should convince him to set them free."

Laughing once again, Trace got up from his chair and headed over to where Tony was standing.  He really didn't think the night could possibly get any funnier, but after this little quest, he knew that there was no stopping his friend's stupidity.

"Sorry about that.  He's had a little too much to drink."  he said, reaching in to his own pocket for some change.

"Just a little?"  one of the ladies asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, just little."  he replied, flashing her a chesire grin before walking Tony back over to the vending machine.

"Here.  Get your God damn cheetos and sit down, please!"  Trace laughed, emptying a handful of coins in to Tony's hand.

"Thanks man."

"Uh huh."  Trace replied, watching his friend with amusement.

"I told you I'd be back!"  Tony yelled, puffing up his chest as he confronted the machine once again.  "If you know what's good for you, you'll release my friends unharmed."  he continued, dropping several coins in to the small verticle slot on the front of the machine.  "If not, it could get really ugly."  he growled, poking his finger in to the glass panel.

Shaking his head in utter disbelief, Trace headed back over to his chair and prayed that Tony's name would soon be called.  He honestly didn't know  how much more he could take.  Then almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a nurse opened the double set of door and glanced down at the chart she was holding.

"Anthony Cervone?"

Hearing his name, Tony quickly grabbed the small bag of cheetos from the bottom of the machine and stood back up.

"The one and only."  he said, strutting his way over towards her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're not allowed to have food back here."  she said, glancing down at the small orange bag that Tony was desperately trying to rip open.

"Are you serious?!  Do you know how much time and effort it took to get these?!" he said, shaking the bag in front of her face.

"I'm sorry sir.  Hospital rules." she replied, fliching slightly.

Watching a look of complete despair wash over Tony's face, Trace couldn't help but bust out laughing.

"Dude, go get your ass stitched up. I'll hold on to them for you and if they tell me you were good back there and didn't give them a hard time, I'll give them back to you. "  he said, plucking the bag from his friend's grasp.

"Yeah well....you better not eat them!" 

"Don't worry.  They're in good hands."

Letting out an aggitated huff, Tony shook his head and followed the nurse in to the back.