CONSEQUENCES

by elfin

"E?"  The front door of the ten million dollar house they're renting slams against the bare brick wall behind it, glass pane rattling in its frame.  "E?!"  There's no answer, no response, the house is silent.  "Johnny, check the lounge." They split up like a live-action Scooby gang, Turtle heading for the games and screening rooms in the basement while Drama makes for the more domestic settings of the lounge and kitchen.  Vince bounds up the three stairs into the corridor that goes back to the bedrooms, checking his own at the back of the house, checking E's then taking the main staircase two at a time. They're all calling out various derivatives of Eric's name because Shauna's phone call has Vince terrified and as usual Turtle and the older Chase brother are taking their cue from the movie star. Just as their meal arrived his phone started to vibrate in his pocket.  He pulled it out, checked the caller name and was slightly surprised that it was his publicist.  Both she and Ari usually speak to E rather to him direct.   "Hey, Shauna, what's-" She interrupted him.  "Vince, where are you?" "Margo's. Late lunch.   What's-" And again - "I've just had a call from Eric."  Vince looked around the table as if noticing for the first time that E wasn't actually with them.  "He sounded upset." "Why, what did you do?" "Nothing.  Vince, I mean, he sounded really upset.  Like he wasn't actually talking to me."  The sound of Shauna's high-end sports car revving like a bitch filters through to Vince's ear.  She's shouting over it.  Like she's rushing to get somewhere.  "…sounded like he hadn't meant to dial me.  He kept going on about how he'd fucked everything up, how it was all his fault and he'd wrecked your career.  He was crying, Vince, really fucking crying." Something turned cold in the pit of Vince's stomach and he put down his fork, the rare filet steak no longer looking so appetising.  "Shauna…." "Just listen to me.  He kept saying something about Ari being right, about how he didn't know what he was doing and how a million people other than him could manage your career better.  He kept going on about how he was really sorry.  I tried calling him back but his phone's off.  Vince, Eric's phone is never off.  Jesus, Vince, it sounded like a fucking suicide note." "E!"  Flinging open doors, Vince races into Turtle's room and through to the en suite, same in Johnny's room, not finding anything, yelling his best friend's name - his best friend since childhood, his best friend the whole of his godammed life, the best friend he's hardly spoken to for months because of a movie he should have let go of years back and a director who's fucked up one of the best fucking scripts he's ever read.   "E, please…"  The guest room is on the top floor at the back of the house, it's the last place he checks and as he does he realises it's only the second time he's ever been up there.  When he pushes open the door of the en suite his stomach turns over.  "E… oh no.  God, no.  No, no, no…." He's slumped between the china white toilet and the pedestal for the sink.  He's the colour of the slate tiles, eyes closed, mouth open.  There are two small empty bottles of Ultracet next to him, and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels pinning his fingers to the cool floor tiles.   Dropping to his knees, Vince presses his fingers hard into the side of E's neck like he's seen them do in movies and waits a second, wondering what he's supposed to feel.  There's a pulse of blood under his fingertips and he moves his palm over E's mouth, feels the slightest of breaths.  It's enough.  Standing up he yells for the guys as he scoops E's limp body up in his arms, ginger head falling against his shoulder like some macabre dummy from a special effects nightmare.  This isn't happening, this can't be fucking happening, but it is.  Johnny appears at the end of the corridor as he steps out of the room, eyes going wide, mouth opening. "Grab the bottles from the guest en suite, we need to take them with us."  He's read somewhere that doctors like to know what patients have OD'd on, that their chances of making it are better.  And E has to make it. Turtle's at the bottom of the staircase when Vince jogs down like E weighs nothing in his arms.  "You have to drive like the fucking trunk's on fire," he says over whatever Turtle's saying, shouts, "Johnny, come on, we gotta go!" then he's outside, easing E into the back of the SUV, lying him unresponsive across the backseat, checking his pulse, checking his breathing.   The other two are in the front and the engine's started before Johnny's got his door closed.  "I don't care if you lose your licence, Turtle," he tells him, "or if it turns into the fucking Blues Brothers.  Just drive." Johnny's holding the two pill bottles and the JD empty to his chest like they're the most precious things on the planet.  He's turned around in his seat, no belt, and Turtle keeps looking in the rear view mirror like something's chasing them. "Fuck, bro, tell me he's alive." "Course he's alive, Drama."  But there's a tremor in Turtle's voice like he's just waiting for Vince to correct him.   Vince is barely listening.  He thinks the mantra looping in his head is silent but it's not.  He's muttering E's name over and over, begging him to hold on, begging him to stay with them, all the bullshit he's read in scripts tumbling out of his mouth like memorised lines.  Just they don't mean anything, they're all for shit because E's not fucking hearing them.  All he can think about is how fast the human pulse should be, how many times per minute does the heart usually beat, what the hell he has to do if E stops breathing…. It's the longest journey of his entire life but he can feel, can hear Turtle driving like this is some Xbox game, the SUV lurching right to left, left to right around corners and passed cars, and twice the hard braking almost has E sliding into Vince where he's crouched uncomfortably between the mid seats and the back seat, one hand hovering over increasingly pale lips, the other continuously monitoring a weakening pulse. Finally they stop, the first actual full stop they've made and Vince looks up as Johnny and Turtle both jump from the car.  Already Vince can hear shouting about ambulance zones and no parking and in a second he's got E back in his arms and he's climbing awkwardly out.  The moment the orderlies see him they stop shouting at them and start shouting at each other.  A gurney appears from nowhere and Vince lies his best friend on it as gently as he can.   Then this new entourage starts to run.   A young man in a white uniform gets a mask over E's mouth and Vince hears instructions he doesn't understand coming from the quickly growing crowd around the trolley.  When they reach the double doors of A&E a hand hits Vince square in the chest and he stops moving instinctively, Johnny and Turtle coming up behind him. "You need to let us do our job."  He looks up in the face of a middle-aged man dressed like a doctor and wishes to God this was the hospital from House.  "What happened?" Johnny trusts the three empty bottles forward.  "We think he took these." The doctor looks down at them, swears softly, and asks one more question.  "What's his name?" Vince tells him, "Eric," and is glad that his voice doesn't let him down because his throat's so tight it feels like he couldn't swallow water. The doctor vanishes through the double doors and for a second they stand with absolutely no clue as to what to do now.  Then a nurse ushers them into a small, private room with a green sofa and light green walls and tells them they can wait here and won't be disturbed.  Turtle and Johnny drop into the sofa apparently out of sheer habit.  There's a small open window looking out into a tiny courtyard with hospital walls on all four sides and no obvious means of getting into it.  Looking out, Vince yearns for a joint just to give him something to do.  Now the initial panic is over, now E's in the hands of the professionals, Vince feels reality start to crash in and he has to blink back the tears from his eyes as Johnny stands again and pulls him around into a tight hug. "He'll be okay, bro.  E's tough, always has been." Not tough enough, he thinks, but he doesn't say it, just nods against his brother's shoulder even though a part of him is thinking about the doctor's reaction when he saw the bottles and he's more scared than he's been in a long, long time.  He manages not to cry until he takes a step back and Turtle says out loud, "I can't believe E would try to commit suicide."  He turns his back on them, drops his head and the tears fall.  He can't stop them.  He feels his brother's hand on his arm, knows Johnny's mouthing something bright and hard at Turtle but it's not Turtle's fault.  He just said what they were all thinking.  The idea is ridiculous but it's real and they have to deal with it. He takes a deep breath, swipes his eyes with his fingers and looks at his boys from over his shoulder.  "E hasn't run from anything his whole life," he reminds them, "why this, why now?" They don't answer, don't even try, and Vince knows it's because neither of them are willing to even go near the truth.  They must have done this, that's why; they're the only people in the world E cares about enough.  They've pushed too far, too hard; E's entire support system turning on him, turning against him, heaping on the blame him for something they all had a part in.  They've been rolling along, pushing the failure of Medellin on to E, Vince at least thinking it would push E to come up with something that would save his career, something brilliant; a studio offer, an Indie gem, anything.  E had been so confident, so certain, but Vince was starting to realise it was his belief in him that had given him that confidence, that certainty.  If he lost that faith, he pulled the world out from under E's feet, left him hanging.  Left him to hang himself. "You should call Shauna and Ari," Johnny murmurs softly. "No."  Vince doesn't want to, wants to keep this between them, not for his sake, not even for E's sake, but because this is personal, this is their problem to deal with.  Suddenly Hollywood's gone, and in its place is Queens and the shabby homes they grew up in.  Shauna and Ari and all the rest of the supporting cast have vanished and instead it's just the four of them like it always was, looking out for one another.   Besides, he definitely doesn't want to speak to Ari right now. "Bro…." "This is us, Johnny.  This has nothing to do with them."  He's wrong and somewhere deep down he knows it, but right now his career is the very last think he cares about and he knows it'll be the first thing on the minds of his publicist and his agent.  And there's the other thing too, the nagging feeling that Ari might have more to do with this than he or Johnny or Turtle.  "Not yet, okay?  Not until I know he's all right." "He's gonna be."  Johnny sounds so convincing, but Vince was the one to walk into that bathroom, the one to see his best friend lying limp between the toilet and the sink.  Like he was nothing.  Why had he chosen the guest room?  Was that how he felt?  Or was it just so he wouldn't be found until it was too late?  In which case, why had he rung Shauna? There isn't a clock in the room but Vince imagines he can hear the seconds ticking by anyway.  There are thousands of them; it's over an hour before someone comes to see them.  It's the doctor from before, and they're all on their feet the moment the door opens. "He's okay, right, Doc?"  Johnny, so damn certain.   Miraculously, the doctor nods.  "He's a very, very lucky man.  We've pumped his stomach, got some activated charcoal inside him to bind with the drugs already in his intestines and added a cathartic.  He hasn't had a pleasant time but hopefully he won't remember much of it.  We've given him a mild sedative which should wear off in a couple of hours." Vince steps forward.  "I want to see him." The doctor nods.  "In a minute."  He takes a breath and Vince knows what's coming.  "Any other town in any other state and I'd have him transferred to the psychiatric wing and tied to the bed with padded restraints.  This town, this state… well, let's just say I've seen my fair share of celebrity suicide attempts.  Most of them aren't real; swallow some pills with half a bottle of vodka and call the famous best friend to send for the ambulance.  Your Eric… he took a lot of pills and if he made the call it was only just in time.  Five, ten minutes later I doubt we'd have been able to save him.  So if this is a cry for help, he's a moron.  If not, I can't let him leave here without being as sure as I can be that he isn't going to try again.  And he's absolutely going to be seeing a therapist on a regular basis for a while.  Okay?" Vince is nodding now, cold knot still in the pit of his stomach.  The idea that E felt so alone, so desperate, E of all people, that he felt he couldn't talk to any of them, there was nowhere and nothing left for him… it makes him feel sick, makes him feel like the worst person on earth.  "Can I see him?" "Sure.  But just you until he wakes, okay?  The others can stay here.  I'm sure there are people on their way."  There aren't, not yet, but Vince doesn't correct him. Intensive care is a semi-circle of rooms around a central nurses' station.  All the rooms have an observation window through which the patients can be watched and monitored.  E's in the last room, and the door's held open for him while he steps inside.  The doctor doesn't follow. It hurts to see E lying on the bed, a drip in the back of his hand, skin pale against the white sheets and his grubby white T-shirt.  He's sleeping, breathing in shallow puffs, head turned towards the glass.  Vince stands there feeling useless and  remembers begging E to come out to California, remembers dumping his career - all the scripts, the offers, the decisions - onto his best friend, making him responsible for all the good stuff and the bad shit that happens.  Never taking responsibility because he's the movie star, why should he have to?   But E is his responsibility, just as Johnny and Turtle are.  And he's let this happen because somewhere along the way he stopped seeing his best friend and started seeing only his manager in the same way Ari is just his agent. He pulls the plastic chair out from the corner of the room and sits in it, close to the bed, waiting for E to wake up. # Turtle isn't sure how Drama's doing it; sitting on the sofa next to him, head back, eyes closed.  Usually he's the one who can't sit still, the one who needs to be doing something every minute of the day and most of the night.  In comparison, Turtle's feet are up on the coffee table, legs bouncing, toes tapping so he's surprised Drama hasn't yelled at him.  But everything he's said since they arrived has been said to reassure Vince and he hasn't got angry once.   In his pocket his phone vibrates and he lifts it out.  The display's saying 'Shauna' and he glances at Drama who's looking down at it to. "You should answer it." "Vince said…." "Vince is worried sick about Eric, it's all he's worried about.  But E's worked hard on Vince's career, he'd be mad if he thought we were throwing it away because of him.  Besides, Shauna called Vince, she saved E's life." He's got an excellent point, and Turtle answers the call.  Immediately Shauna's yelling at him.   "Jeez, turn your phones on!  You're the only one of the Chase clan I can get hold of Turtle and that's insulting!  Where are you?  What's happening with Eric?" Turtle answers calmly, quietly, as she takes a breath.  "We're at Glendale.  E washed down a load of pills with a bottle of Jack Daniels." There's a pause, then, "Jesus Christ.  Is he okay?" "He's alive.  Vince has been allowed to see him.  They've sedated him so he's probably waiting for him to wake up." "Have you talked to anyone else?" Turtle sighs.  "No, Shauna." "I'll be there in an hour.  Don't speak to anyone."  She hangs up. He looks over and meets Johnny's dark eyes.  "Shauna's channelling Ari now." # E's breathing changes, he sighs deep in his sleep then moves his head.  Vince sits forward, heart starting to beat faster.  He's no idea how long he's been sitting there but it doesn't feel like forever, it feels like seconds and as desperately as he wants E to wake up, he's not ready to face him.  He just doesn't have a choice.   It takes a moment, when he opens his eyes, for everything to sink in.  Then Vince watches as he seems to fold in on himself.   "E…."  Turning on to his side away from Vince, E pulls his legs up under the tight sheets and makes a noise like a tear in his heart.  Vince lifts a shaking hand and carefully touches one shoulder. "Please, E…." He's shrugged off, and when he touches again, Eric sits up like he wants to escape but his legs get caught up in the sheets and as he pulls his arm around the IV tubing is torn free.  He covers the back of his left hand like he's in pain and croaks, "Why did you stop me?"  He doesn't turn but Vince can hear the tears in his voice and pushing back the chair he goes around the bed, sits on the edge of the mattress and grabs E's wrist gently before he can move away. "I'm sorry, E.  I am so fucking sorry."  His own tears are behind his eyes, stinging, and even though it's the last thing he wants to do - pile more guilt on E's shoulders - he doesn't think he can stop them from falling.   E makes a noise like a small animal caught in a trap and Vince lets go of his arm.  He pulls it back, head bowed.  "If you're so sorry, why did you stop me?"  His voice is broken. "What?  I'm not sorry for stopping you, you dumb fuck…."  Vince struggles to keep his voice gentle, to keep his anger and fear far, far away from Eric.  "I'm sorry I drove you to this, that you felt so alone…."   "You weren't supposed to stop me."  There are tears falling like a cascade from E's eyes to the sheet and it's agonising to see. "You think I could just sit there and watch you… die?"  His own tears break loose, start to slide down his face. "…weren't supposed to find me." "You called Shauna." E's shoulders hitch forward and something harsh and bitter escapes his throat.  "Fuck.  Can't even fucking end it right.  Thought… thought I'd called Sloan."  Sloan, who was in Europe until next week, who wouldn't get the message from her machine until she got back.  E's suicide note, just like Shauna had said.  "Couldn't do it anymore, Vince."  Hearing him speaking, crying, it's tearing Vince up.  E's never cried, not when Mal beat him up after school when he was nine, not when he broke his arm in two places because Vince dared him to climb into the first floor window of the condemned canning factory when they were fourteen.  Not when his favourite uncle died.  Not when he said goodbye when Vince left for Hollywood and he stayed (was left) behind. "This is my fault, E.  I've been blaming you for Medellin but it was just as much me.  I should have let the script go two years ago but I didn't, I kept chasing it and chasing it.  It's cost me more than five million dollars and looks what it's cost you.  I've been such a coward, such a fucking idiot.  I'm sorry, so sorry.  I can't lose you.  If you'd died… Jesus, E… I'd never have forgiven myself.  Never."  E's shaking like there's a fucking earthquake.  "E, please….  Forgive me.  Please."  He's putting this on Eric and it's not fair.  He already tried to kill himself, he's not ready for this.   But suddenly E's arms are around his neck, fists pressing into his back and he's sobbing so hard Vince is terrified but, he thinks, not half as terrified as Eric.  He wraps his arms around his best friend, spreads his hands on E's shoulder, over his back and holds him tight enough to snap him in half.  "Whatever happens, E, I love you.  Always remember that, baby, even if we're fighting, I still - I always - love you." # Turtle sneaks into Intensive Care, spots Vince and E on the bed and thinks it's a bad time.  He returns to the waiting room.  Shauna looks at him and he shakes his head.  "Bad time." "Look, there's no point in me talking to either of you."  She's talking hard but there's no doubting the expression on her face.  Johnny's right, she played a huge part in saving E's life, but somehow he doesn't think she wants anyone acknowledging that. "Well, we're all you've got right now."  Johnny stands up, strides over.  "So make the most of it.  What do you need us to do?" She stares at Johnny for a second and Turtle does too - can't help it.  "Does Ari know?"  They both shake their heads.  "Right.  I'll call him.  We need to keep a lid on this." "Vince doesn't want him here." "Vince doesn't get to choose."  She sighs, shakes her head.  "Seriously, you came to the worst place.  Glendale has its own press office so many celebrities end up here." Turtle rolls his eyes, trying to keep from being angry.  "I wasn't really thinking about that." To her credit, she nods and apologises.  "I know.  Sorry.  At least I know where I'm going and I know the guys here."  She stops like there's something else she wants to say, but instead she calls Ari.  They don't hear his side of the conversation, but it's not a difficult one to guess. "Lloyd, it's Shauna, put me through.  I don't care who's with him, this is officially an emergency."  She pauses.  Presumably Ari answers because she cuts him off.  "Eric Murphy tried to commit suicide this afternoon."  His response will be something witty, something off hand, thinking she's kidding around.  "I'm serious, Ari.  He's in Glendale IC."  Then nothing, they reckon, for a long few seconds while this fact hits home and Ari worries about exactly two things - himself and Vince.  "Vince is fine, and Eric's alive, if you even give a damn."  Some profanity probably follows, which Shauna doesn't rise to, "I think you should get over here.  Fake a limp or something, make like your appendix is exploding, I don't care, I just think we should work together on this one." Ari obviously agrees because she ends the call and lets them know he's on his way.  Then she tells them she's heading over to the Glendale Paparazzi Unit and again instructs them to stay where they are and not to speak to anyone.  Turtle watches her leave with a sigh and a frown.   "She treats us like fucking morons, Drama." # Vince is lying half-on, half-off the hospital bed, his back against the haphazardly stacked pillows, feet on the plastic chair, arm folded around E's shoulders.  E's curled against his side, hands tucked between them, folded against his crumpled T-shirt, but his head's rested in the hollow of Vince's shoulder and his eyes are closed.  The IV line tubing has been reattached, and the catheter Vince hadn't even realised was there is safely threaded between Eric's thighs to the bag on the other side of the bed. It's a hard-won peace. E's taken time to calm.  A concerned nurse wanted to administer another sedative but Vince wouldn't let her.  He sat with his best friend sobbing in his arms for a long, long time, rocking him gently, stroking his back, stroking his hair, letting him cry himself out.  When he could speak through his tears he started to apologise, and Vince told him over and over he had nothing to be sorry for, this was on all of them, they'd all failed one another but they could do this, they could get through this, if they stuck together. Finally, when there were no tears left for the time being, he let go just enough and watched E blow his nose on his own T-shirt before pulling him carefully into the position they're now in; easy, comfortable.  Vince doesn't give a shit what it looks like, if it looks like anything more than a man comforting his best friend who hours ago gave suicide a really, really convincing shot.   Coming so close to losing E has scared him, chilled him to the bone, so he isn't sure now if there is more to feel because at the moment he's trying not to feel anything other than relief. The doctor checks in on them but aside from taking E's temperature by sticking a conical thermometer in his ear he doesn't disturb them and even finds a smile for Vince on his way out. The flood of adrenaline eventually starts to leave his bloodstream and with his arm firmly around E's shoulders and the other hand on his back he closes his own eyes, letting the gentle sounds of the IC unit wash over him until his heart rate slows. He's half-asleep when he imagines he hears the hiss of his agent's voice, "Get off the fucking bed, Vince."  But when his eyes snap open there's no one there, just E settled into his side, sleeping.  He wonders if E's been sleeping at all recently and realises he has no idea.  He has no idea what E's been doing recently.  It's a sad fact, one he intends to quickly rectify. But for now it doesn't take long before his own eyes are closing again, and this time he falls asleep without disturbance. # The story breaks that night.  An orderly, they reckon, who saw the panicked entourage arrive, sold the scant facts to Hollywood.com and rest of the gossip rags lose no time filling in the substantial blanks.  Unfortunately a good percentage of them are close enough to the truth that Shauna and Ari decide to release a statement, something Turtle thinks they should have done immediately but he keeps it to himself. Shauna gives the press a hurriedly planned interview out front of Glendale Hospital at just after ten.  She tells them that Vincent Chases' manager, Eric Murphy, has made an attempt to take his own life.  He was found in time by friends (not mentioning Vince's name) and rushed to Glendale where doctors were able to save him without any permanent damage.  All mention of the two seizures he suffered and the moment of cardiac arrest during the time the doctors worked to save him are left out.  Vince is at Eric's bedside, Shauna confirms, as they're lifelong friends, and Eric is due to be released as soon as his doctor is satisfied he's well enough.  No, he hasn't been transferred to a psychiatric ward; no, he isn't thought to be a suicide risk.  Yes, Vincent Chase is absolutely fine. It's the only part of the statement that's a total lie. # It's around five the next morning when Vince wakes.  He only knows by looking at his watch - there are no windows to the outside in here and the ICU's just as busy as it was yesterday evening.  His neck's cramped from the awkward position he's slept in and he slips gingerly and silently off the bed, being careful not to wake E who hasn't moved in the night.  One of the nurses makes him a mug of coffee and he takes it into the waiting room where he's surprised and touched to see Turtle asleep on the floor and Johnny snoring loudly on the couch.  He feels momentarily guilty for not coming out earlier and hopes someone's been keeping them up to date. Finishing his coffee he heads up to the cafeteria and manages to get three Lattes from the girl in the kitchen even though the place hasn't officially opened up yet.  She tells him she hopes Eric's feeling better soon and he gets the details of the press statement from her, impressed with the number of half-truths there are in the details. He wakes Johnny and Turtle and they stretch out their various aches while not uttering a single complaint - even Turtle who must have lost the toss for the sofa, unless Johnny just pulled star status on him. "How's E doin'?" Turtle asks him as he sips the coffee thankfully. "Sleeping.  I'm sorry I didn't come see you guys earlier.  Yesterday he was…"  He doesn't have to finish.  They both nod and Johnny says, "It's okay, bro." - "It's fine, Vin." "I'll ask if you two can see him this morning.  I'm sure he'll want to see you.  Just go easy, okay?" "Course we will, bro."  Johnny looks as shaken up as Vince still feels.  "Did he say… why?" "He didn't say anything much."  He doesn't want to say any more than that.  "I think it'll be a while before he talks about it." "We're gonna look after him, bro."  He sounds so damn guilty Vince reaches over, squeezes his shoulder.   "This isn't your fault, Johnny." Turtle looks up.  "It's all of our faults, isn't it?  I mean, how long has he been feeling like this to want to commit suicide?  This is E, man." It's the harsh, brutal truth and Vince knows it.  "Was Ari here last night?" Turtle's head lifts.  "Yeah.  He's feeling as guilty as fuck, Vince.  He said he called E yesterday lunchtime, said some things he really, really regrets saying now.  He was desperate to see you, to apologise, but Shauna wouldn't let him anywhere near you." "Not me he needs to be apologising to." "You're always his first thought, Vince, you know that.  E comes a belated second in Ari's mind, and only because if not he's scared you'll fire him." He knows that, he just can't imagine what Ari could have said to cause this.  "You know E doesn't put up with Ari's bullshit." "Usually, I'd agree with you.  But recently he hasn't been biting back, hasn't been himself.  Maybe he believes Ari's right, because he's blamed himself for Medellin." Vince is about to argue when the door opens and the nurse who made Vince's coffee pops her head into the room.  "Vince?  Eric's asking for you." He's sitting up in bed with the IV line still plugged into the back of his hand but it looks like the catheter's been removed and that has to be a good sign. Vince sits on the edge of the bed feeling more awkward than he did yesterday now E looks more composed, more like his old self.  "You okay?" he asks gently, knowing it's a faintly ridiculous question, but E nods. "Ari…." Fuck.  What have they become when E's waking thought is of Vince's fucking agent?  "Don't worry about Ari, Shauna has him under control." "He hated me enough before this." Vince shifts closer, reaches one hand to E's shoulder and strokes his thumb over the grubby white T-shirt he's still wearing over hospital pants.  "He doesn't hate you.  You've just been an easy target for him these last few months.  He was here yesterday, Turtle says he was practically begging to come apologise." Not quite the truth but it gets a small smile.  "Are they here?" Vince nods.  "Been here the whole time, Turtle slept on the floor of the waiting room last night.  Yesterday he drove across town like a madman to get you here." The smile faded.  "I'm sorry." "You don't have to be sorry, okay?  I'm here for you, we're all here for you.  We'll deal with this."  He hopes it's the right thing to say, nothing is coming to mind that doesn't sound like a cliché even to him.  E nods but he's still looking down.  "Turtle and Johnny want to see you, is it okay if they come in for a few minutes?" E nods.  "I'm not going to break, Vince." Vince hesitates before he points out very gently, "Anywhere but here they'd have you on a mental ward now, you do know that?" E curls his fingers into the sheet.  "Yeah.  Thank God for Hollywood."  He looks up finally, tired eyes meeting Vince's.  "I'm not crazy." "I know you're not."  Letting his hand slide down E's arm, he drags his fingers over E's.  "Just… you have to promise me we can work this out.  Don't leave me like that.  Please, E?"  He nods again.  "Promise me." It takes a few seconds, a deep breath, then he says, "I promise, Vince." Whether he believes him or not, he doesn't know, but he smiles anyway.  "I'll tell Turtle and Johnny it's okay to say hello." Turtle gives him a bear hug, holds on a moment or two longer than he should, and Vince starts to see that he isn't the only one who was terrified by yesterday's events.  Johnny's hug is much more manly, but no less meaningful, and as he pulls back he says, "We love ya, bro.  Don't go scaring us like that again, okay?" "Okay."  E's smile is slightly more convincing this time and Vince feels a swell of love for his brother.  "Sorry, Drama.  Sorry, Turtle." Turtle taps his arm gently.  "Don't go all pussy on us now, E."  He looks like he wants to hug him again and Vince is glad when E's doctor interrupts them. They let him go home later that evening.  Because it's a slow day in the Hollywood hills and all the photographers who want a piece of the drama unfolding around the Chase family are annoying the staff and the outpatients.  Because Vince gives the doctor his word that he won't let E out of his sight, that he'll make sure his best friend talks about what went wrong and how they put it right, whatever it takes.  But mostly it's because when he asks Eric if he still feels like death's the only way out, Eric says it as the only way he could see yesterday but today he can see more ways, and he believes him. There's a back route out of the hospital which can't be photographed easily - a narrow corridor and an exit just wide enough to open a car door.  Turtle meets them with the car out front, just as Vince asked, and they walk out of the hospital into the melee of photographers and reporters, Eric flanked on both sides by Vince and Johnny Chase.  While he's still pale, and while the walk through the hospital is enough to exhaust him, he smiles for the cameras and ducks into the back seat with Vince firmly at his side. They waits until Turtle's driven them away from the hospital, until they're on the highway, before Vince slides his arm across the back of the seat, across E's shoulders, and E drops his head to rest against Vince's.  He touches his cheek, his chin, to the ginger hair and murmurs softly, "It's gonna be okay," because he honestly believes it is.  They're strong together, they can do anything.  They can deal with this, the worst thing that's ever happened to them. # Vince moves some of E's stuff into his room while E sleeps on the couch in the lounge.  After a quick, quiet discussion in the kitchen, Johnny's installed himself in the overstuffed armchair across from the sofa and is reading through the scripts Lloyd sent last week.  Vince is convinced E's not going to try again, the way he was yesterday makes him certain of it.  But there's still the fact that he did it at all, and what Vince isn't sure of is that he's not fooling himself.  Everything isn't okay.  He can't pretend his best friend hasn't just tried to end his life, in a bathroom, in the guestroom, at the back of a house they barely know.  Somehow finding E slumped between the toilet and the sink makes it worse than if he was lying on the bed because it was a bright flash into E's state of mind.  It was as if he felt like he was nothing, worth nothing, in this whole Hollywood fantasy, when the truth is, he's everything.  Vince just doesn't have the balls to admit it. He dumps some of E's clothes on the dresser before heading for the lounge, sitting his ass down on the polished hard wood floor in front of the black leather couch and staring at his peacefully sleeping friend, dark shirted chest slowly rising and falling.  Despite the complications yesterday, the doctor assured them, he's going to make a full physical recovery, and he'll be sending the number of a good therapist to call to make sure he makes a full mental one too.  But Vince knows it's here that the mistakes were made, here where E was pushed in to doing what he did.  And it's here he needs to fix things. "You okay, bro?"  Johnny's voice is pitched quiet but E stirs anyway as Vince nods, and he slides his hand into Eric's without thinking. "It's okay, E, go back to sleep." They fall silent, and E does as he's told for once and falls back into sleep without really waking.  The doc told them he'll tire easily for a couple of days.  His drug of choice was a powerful one.  He could have swallowed two bottles of Advil and probably driven himself to the hospital, but E had to choose one to do the job right.  His heart had stopped minutes after their arrival at the hospital.  He had two minor seizures as they were pumping the pills and alcohol from his stomach.  His body's still in shock, he needs to rest and that's exactly what they're going to make sure he does. Around ten Vince rouses E, leads him up to his room and helps him strip down to his shorts before tucking him into the huge bed.  It's testament to how out of it E is that he doesn't question where he is, just curls up and drifts off to sleep again.  Vince stretches out on the edge of the mattress and lies awake for a long time, trying to come to terms with what's happened, with what it means for them.  When he remembers finding E unconscious on the bathroom floor it makes him feel nauseous and he knows he'll never, ever forget that moment, it'll always be with him; when they're fighting, when they're celebrating.  When he looks at E now he feels an urge to protect him from all the damage this town has done, an urge so strong he has to take a deep breath to centre himself again.  He thinks there won't ever be a time he won't feel it.  Someone once said, almost dying changes nothing.  He was wrong; E almost dying has changed everything, and Vince is so aware of it he can practically taste it. # They sleep until lunchtime.  When he wakes, E looks a little surprised to be in Vince's room but he doesn't bring it up and instead gets up without a word and takes a shower.  Vince sits on the bed and listens to the water running the whole time, tries not to panic when he thinks it's been too long, and feels relief like an over-protective parent when E walks out naked, towel-drying his hair.  His eyes widen when he sees Vince still there, then he works it out and Vince thinks he's going to burst into tears and if E's going to cry well, so is he. But he doesn't.  He blinks, rubs his eyes with his fingers then grabs underwear, sawn-off khakis and a T-shirt from the untidy stack of clothes Vince lifted from his room yesterday.  Vince leaves him alone to dress, hovering outside the door for a minute or two, then forces himself down to the kitchen where he sits and taps his finger nails on the table until Drama yells at him to stop. "Hey, E."  Johnny's greeting as E steps into the kitchen is so normal it's almost freakish.  Vince looks up and smiles; E's hair is sticking up in spiky clumps and the dark blue T-shirt he's grabbed must be one of Turtle's somehow because it looks two sizes too big on him.  It's only when Vince really looks that he realises it is E's shirt, he's just lost weight, weight he never needed to lose.  He can't remember the last time he really looked at him. Johnny does his best to start piling it back on immediately, feeding them Spanish Omelette with chorizo and pancetta, following it up with an orange mousse despite it only being lunch.  They collapse on the sofas in the lounge while Turtle's outside futzing with the pool, talking about what to do for the rest of the day. The doorbell surprises them all. Drama answers it, lets it swing open and Vince hears, "What do you want, Shauna?"  He gets up, goes through to the kitchen, tells Johnny he'll deal with it, sends his brother back into the lounge.  It's a ploy they don't want E figuring out too soon but they know it won't take long, E's far from stupid. Shauna waits a second before she figuratively explodes.  She trusts a Hollywood rag at him and he catches it before it falls to the floor, unfolds it and sees the front page photograph and the headline; he and Johnny walking E out of the hospital yesterday evening, the word, MELTDOWN in capital letters above it.  He throws it to the table.  "It's pathetic." "No, Vince, what's pathetic is you feeling the need to parade your suicidal manager in front of the town's most vicious reporters!" "We weren't going to sneak out the back, Shauna."  "Why not?  It's what everyone does!" "We've nothing to be ashamed of." "It's not about being ashamed, Vince!  It's about not flaunting your problems in front of the press!" "You were the one who released the press statement!  I got it from some nurse!" "How was I supposed to tell you?  Your manager wasn't exactly in any state to deliver the news himself and I couldn't find you." He can hardly believe what he's hearing.  Is this the bullshit E puts up with day in, day out?  "I was with my best friend who kinda needed me." "Yeah, he needed you."  She pauses and he knows something's coming that he doesn't want to hear.  "But now you need to put some distance between you two.  The press are onto this and they're having a field day with the comparisons between Eric and your career." For the first time in his whole life he thinks he might actually hit a woman.  He stares at her, wide eyed, waiting for her to apologise.  It takes him almost half a minutes to realise she isn't going to. "Get out." "Vince, listen to me.  I'm only telling you what you already know." He gapes at her.  "No, I don't know.  You're telling me to abandon a guy I've known my whole life, my best friend since we were six years old?  Someone who needs me right now, someone who has devoted the last five years of his life to my career and has put up with you and me and Ari and the rest of this fake, bullshit town until it's driven him to do this!  He's given everything up for me and I am not leaving him now.  Are we clear on that?" "Vince, Jeez… he's going to drag you down with him!" He's never felt anger like it.  "Drag me down?!" "He tried.  To.  Kill.  Himself!  Do you understand?  He should be in the fucking hospital under the watchful gazes of watchful fucking nurses." "Will you two shut the fuck up?!"  Drama's hiss draws Vince's attention first, and he catches Shauna shift from one four-inch heel to the other out of the corner of his eye.  His brother's standing in the doorway of the kitchen and Vince suddenly recalls how easily sound travels in this place.  "Shit."  He pushes passed his brother, racing for the lounge where E's no longer on the couch.  "E?"  There's no need to panic, he tells himself, E wouldn't, E won't….  The patio doors are open, out to the pool, and despite knowing his fear is ridiculous, he runs across the hard wood floor of the room and almost trips on the sill of the patio.  Johnny's right behind him and he can hear the click of Shauna's heels on the laminate.  "E!" He's sitting on the edge of the pool down at the far end, legs dangling into the clear, chlorinated water.  Turtle's sat next to him, legs dangling too, looking for all the world like two eight-year old kids.  They glance over at him and Turtle frowns while E just looks.  When Shauna cautiously steps out behind him, E shouts over, "Sorry I called you, Shauna." And she shouts back, "I'm not, Eric, believe me." Then she apologises to Vince and leaves without any further argument. # "E… I'm sorry, man.  Sorry we didn't see it, we didn't know before…."  Turtle trails off as E shakes his head. "This isn't on you guys," E says quietly.  "This was me, all me.  I did it for myself."  E's tone is calm, clear, but under the surface, not too far under, Turtle can hear the wobble.  "No one's to blame, Turtle, no one but me."  He falters, and Turtle wishes Vince were here because he isn't sure he knows how to deal with what he thinks is coming.  "I did this to you guys…." "Hey, E…."  He puts a hand on Eric's shoulder, squeezes gently and it turns out that's all he needs to do. "I'm okay." "Not yet, man, but you will be.  And you know, E, it's okay.  It's okay because we love you."  It's easy to say. "Vince thinks I'm going to try again." "Are you?" He smiles slightly and shakes his head, meeting Turtle's eyes as he does.  "It kinda hurt." "The pills?" "No, after, in the hospital.  I don't remember much, just that what they were doing hurt.  I don't think I knew if I was dead or not.  I didn't think being dead would be all that painful." 'Why?' is on the tip of Turtle's tongue but he doesn't ask it.  If anyone of them do it'll be Vince because Vince will deal with the fallout.  As much as he wants to ask, Turtle doesn't want to hear the answer. # Whatever Johnny's cooking smells incredible.  Turtle's playing Xbox in the lounge and E's out in the drive, of all things washing his Aston Martin.  Vince is pretty sure he's never washed it before; he has it detailed by an expert - they all have all their various cars cleaned by the same guy who pays house calls and does a top job for a top price.  But he looks relaxed, bubbles dribbling over his hands as he makes long sweeping swipes with the sponge, muscles taught in his arms, rippling across his back. Okay, so noticing his best friend's back muscles is a little bit gay, but hasn't he always had something for E?  Something he's always kept to himself; always thought of as him being him and them being them.  E's been his best friend all his life and he's always thought that kind of closeness, that kind of trust, doesn't exist without there being some sort of attraction underlying it.  So he's never really questioned it, never thought about it.  It's just a part of him.  And he's comfortable telling E he looks good in this suit or that car, it's easy telling him he loves him and trusts him and misses him because it's E.  One of the most important people in his world.  The most important. Something clutches inside him, a knot tying in his stomach, a hard beat of his heart, a single pulse in his cock.  He takes a breath and before he can stop them there are tears blurring his view.  He knows how he feels about E, he's always known.  He's never denied it he's just never accepted it.  And once he's got his breath back he's relieved to find he's okay with it, fine with it in fact.  He's just not sure how's E's going to take it and the last thing he wants to do is freak him out with this right now. He takes another deep breath and it fills him; air in his lungs, sun on his skin, vision focusing on his best friend washing one of the most beautiful cars in the world.  He wants to say something, needs to say something, needs E to share this moment even if he doesn't understand the moment he's sharing.  He leans forward, points at the car and calls out, "You missed a bit." Without pausing, E pivots and launches the sponge at Vince, a direct splattering hit on his chest, leaving a wet patch on his T-shirt.  Laughing, Vince picks it up and throws it back.  He doesn't mention that his whole world has just tilted, and without any assistance from his manager, his agent or his publicist, he's just made one of he most important decisions of his entire life.  E catches the sponge and goes back to washing his car, unaware that the movement of Vince's world will take him with it. Vince carries on watching, seeing E through different eyes and just getting used to it.  Something tipped E's life upside down two days ago and now Vince really, really needs to know what it was because he needs to stop it from happening again. "I'm sorry," he says out loud without thinking, and E turns to look at him over the dark blue hood. "For what?" "For… everything?  Anything?  For not seeing how much pain you were in." E shakes his head.  "It wasn't like that."  He says it quietly, straightens and leans down to squeeze the soapy sponge out in the bucket of water by prow of the car.  Then he crouches down to wash the number plate and grille.  "What was it like?"  He tries to keep it light, casual, like they're talking about a script rather than E's suicide attempt.  It's a little weird to be having this conversation in the driveway over a half-washed car but it's less tense than sitting down and deliberately having The Talk.  Besides, this way E's telling him what he wants to, talking without pressure.  The doc from the hospital's called with details of a therapist but Vince knows E well enough to know that he won't go, won't share his personal problems with a stranger used to talking to A-list celebrities about their cocaine habits.  He doesn't want E to either.  They've always been there for each other, that isn't about to change. "It was quick, like suddenly it was my only option.  I just went to the chemist, bought the pills, came back here, grabbed the liquor from the kitchen, went into the bathroom and swallowed the lot."  He tells it like he's describing any ordinary day.  "I wasn't thinking I wanted to die, I just thought I didn't want to live."  It's breaking Vince's heart to hear it but he knows he needs to.  He can't imagine what it must be like to feel that, can't imagine E knows and wishes he didn't. "Why didn't you call me?" "Because you wouldn't have believed me."  There was no accusation in his voice, just the truth.  "You'd have laughed it off, told me to pull myself together and hung up."  Vince can't deny it - that's what he probably would have done because even now he can't quite believe E did it.  "I'm sorry for that." E smiles sceptically.  "You're sorry for something you didn't say?" "For something I would have said.  In a way I'm glad you didn't call, because then it would have been my fault." "It was my fault.  I was the one who took the pills.  Don't take that away from me." Staring at his beautiful best friend, Vince suddenly gets it and it breaks his heart.  "I won't."  His voice almost breaks on the words.  He watches as E starts in on the grille, movements the same as before, no anger, no stress, just washing his car like he's some ordinary guy living an ordinary life in an ordinary suburb. Pushing to his feet, Vince strolls over, gravel crunching underfoot, and before E can move, he crouches down behind him and kisses the nape of his neck quickly, almost chaste.  "Love you," he murmurs so softly he can't be sure E even hears it before rising and walking back into the house. He steps in to the kitchen as E's phone rings.  It's on the kitchen table, and Drama answers it with a frying pan in one hand and an oven glove on the other.  It doesn't look easy so Vince takes it from his brother's fingers as Johnny murmurs, "It's Ari." Vince stares at him, then at the phone, before putting it to his ears and saying hello. "Hey, Vinny."  He sounds nervous and that immediately makes Vince suspicious.  "How's my favourite client?  And how's my favourite client's manager?" He keeps his voice level and calm as he asks, "What did you say to him, Ari?" "What?  When?"  Ari's immediately on the defensive and now Vince knows something happened between them. "The afternoon he tried to kill himself, Ari.  You know eventually E will tell me, and you don't want me to hear it from my distraught best friend first, believe me." There's a long pause which makes Vince feel slightly sick.  Then he hears, "I'll come over, we can talk face to face." "Oh no, I don't want you over here at the moment.  Shauna came close enough to getting fired this afternoon.  E's had enough for the time being.  The only people he's seeing at the moment are his family.  Now tell me and you might survive this." Ari sighs, and Vince can hear him drop into the expensive leather office chair, hears the air whoosh out of the padded seat.  "I'm sorry, Vince, really, I didn't mean any of it." Trying to remain calm, he asks again, "What did you say?"  He can just see Ari sinking lower, head in his hand, wishing to God he hadn't called. "I told him he was the reason for the mess we're in.  I… blamed him for everything."  His tone is somewhere between apology and arrogance, "I told him I held him responsible for every mistake you'd made, for everything that had gone wrong with your career." "You said all that that afternoon?" There was a long silence.  "Not just that afternoon." Vince is stunned and now he's remember phone calls when E just listened before hanging up, barely got a word in edgeways, barely opened his mouth to give as good as he was getting, each time telling them Ari was just stressed.  All that time E was covering for Ari.  And for the life of him, Vince can't think why.  "Why would you do that, Ari?" "I don't know.  I just needed to shout at someone, to lay in to someone and E's always on the end of the phone.  I'm sorry, I thought he'd just take it like he always has, Vince!  Five years, how am I supposed to know after all that time he'll lose his mind and hit the bottles?" "Careful, Ari."  Vince doesn't know how he feels about this, he just knows his agent pushed his manager to attempt suicide, a man he's just experienced an epiphany over.  Right now he feels like he's worst client in the city. "I am really, really sorry, Vince.  I'll come over and apologise to him face to face.  Whatever you want.  I'll put him on the pay role if you want me to.  Whatever, just tell me what to do." "I don't know, Ari."  He really doesn't.  This is too much, it's too raw.  "We just need some time.  Can you give us that?" "Of course I can, Vinny.  If there's anything you need, you call me, okay?" "Okay, Ari."  He hangs up and heads back to the front door where E's started to work the brake dust from the alloys.  He sits on the front step again and watches, letting the domestic activity work the same calming magic on him that it seems to be doing for E.  It's several minutes before E looks up, sees him sitting there and his face reorganises itself into a frown. "You okay, Vin?" He almost laughs.  E has no idea what that kiss was about, he's just trying to take it in his stride.  "Yeah.  Ari called.  He apologised." "What for?" "For what he said to you, for blaming you.  You're not to blame for Medellin, E.  Ari's an asshole." E squeezes the sponge out into a large blue bucket of water and pauses.  "I didn't do it because of anything Ari said." Vince thinks he knows what E's trying to say but he doesn't believe him. Still, he nods, "I know." And E responds.  "Good."  He turns back to the car and Vince hears him saying, "Wouldn't want anyone thinking that."  It puts a small smile on his face.  The old E's still in there, he's just a little shell shocked, buried under all the shit he's put up with, all the crap this town's dealt him.  They just need some time to remember what it was like before Medellin, before Aquaman, before Queens Boulevard.  E had known what a train wreck Medellin was becoming before those assholes in Cannes pounced on it.  It was one of the reasons he pounced on Walsh.  He should have had E's back but he didn't, not for a long time, not until E pulled his head out of the sand in Mexico and persuaded him to come home.  And come home he had, so that E wouldn't kill himself, and yet here they were. E needs more from him even if he doesn't realise it yet and he's willing, more than willing, to give everything. "Dinner's almost ready." "I'm almost done." "Cool."  He's more than happy just to sit and watch. # E falls asleep in front of the movie, head against the back of the sofa, one leg against Vince's just by virtue of being sat next to him.  They've touched like this a thousand times in the past but now he's paying attention and he feels the contact all over his body like pin pricks of arousal. The movie finishes and although it's still early for them Vince nudges E and tells him he should be in bed.  When E agrees and struggles to his feet, unbalancing slightly, Vince rises too and steers E towards his room with a hand in the small of his back.  "I can sleep in my room," he complains but it sounds like it's just for show because he doesn't fight the direction and when they get into Vince's room, E grabs the en suite first. By the time Vince has taken a piss and brushed his teeth, E's curled up under the sheet on the right hand side of the bed, eyes closed.  A line about getting his best friend into bed presents itself in Vince's mind and he ignores it.  He still has to share his epiphany. Vince strips off his clothes and slides under the sheets, lying so that he's facing E. "It wasn't a cry for help, Vince."  He doesn't know what prompted it, so he stays quiet.  "I just didn't want to go on living." It hurts - really hurts - to hear it and he waits for a few seconds until he's more certain his voice isn't going to fail him before he asks, "What about now?" "It wasn't like that.  It wasn't that I didn't have anything to live for, it was just… suddenly I didn't know how to go on.  Ari was yelling at me every phone call, telling me I was responsible for ending your career, that it was all my fault.  I'd messed up everything, lost everything.  I thought you coming back would change things but it just made it clearer how much damage I'd done.  When we took those scripts to Ari and he closed down every one, then the next thing we know you're doing fucking birthday party appearances….  You've lost everything and it is all my fault." Vince moves his head, side to side on the pillow.  "If you'd died… then I would have lost everything." "You wouldn't.  That's why you weren't supposed to find me until… after.  I knew Shauna and Ari would spin it, get you the sympathy." That sick feeling crawls back into his stomach.  "Why not just leave?" "And go where?  Besides, I couldn't because you'd always have hated me for leaving, I would have become the scapegoat for everything.  Drama would have tagged me a loser, Ari would have told you how much better off you were without me.  We might never have seen each other again and still I'd be the bad guy for the rest of my life." "And what did you think I'd do if you died?  You think I could keep doing what I'm doing knowing it drove you to that?  You're the best thing, E, the most important person in my life."  E opens his mouth to protest and Vince touches his fingertip to his friend's lips.  "Do you have any idea how I feel about you?  Do you even get how much you mean to me?"  E's eyes narrow and it's clear he isn't going to believe a word of it.  "It's just reaction, Vin.  It'll wear off." In frustration, Vince slides his hand over E's cheek and leaning in, he kisses him.  It's just a touch of lips really, mouth closed, he's sure he's kissed his mother the same way.  But E's response definitely isn't platonic as he tilts his head, opens his mouth, sweeps the tip of his tongue over Vince's top lip.  It's all the encouragement he needs.  Sliding his hand to the back of E's head, Vince kisses him like he's been thinking of doing all evening.  E sucks on his tongue gently, hums softly, and it's the best kiss Vince has ever had because this isn't some random girl, this is E, his best friend, the one who's always going to be at his side.  And he means it, at his side, on his arm, not four feet behind him just beyond the reach of the spotlight. They don't do anything more than kiss.  E's body, to his excruciating embarrassment, isn't playing ball; too exhausted, still in shock.  Vince doesn't care and he makes sure that E knows he wasn't after some one-night stand; a bit of fun to reassure himself E's okay then back to fucking every girl in town.  He tells him again that he loves him but he knows it's easy to say and it'll be time that convinces Eric, time he's more than willing to spend.  He asks E to promise that whatever happens he wouldn't do anything "so fucking stupid" ever again, and E tells him he already made that promise, back in the hospital, but he'll make it again because he meant it.  And he thanks Vince for throwing away the number of the therapist that the doctor from the hospital provided.  Vince looks him in the eyes and knows he means it. He wakes up when it's still dark, he's wrapped around E, spooned up behind him, holding him so tight in his arms it's a wonder E's able to breathe.  He untangles himself, kisses the light stubble behind E's jaw and gets up to take a piss.  Then he quietly opens the balcony doors and steps out, looking down at the moonlight on the surface of the still pool and at Johnny and Turtle sitting out there, sharing a bong.  He pulls the doors closed behind him and leans over the railing.  "Hey." The guys sit up, turn around, take one look at him and nod at one another.  Turtle makes a 'hand it over' gesture with his fingers and Johnny waves him off.  They know, and Vince is glad. "How's E?" Johnny calls up, and Vince touches a finger to his lips. "Sleeping." "Worn him out, huh?"  There's no disgust in his brother's quiet question but he reckons it'll be a little while before he's used to the idea of them.  Because there's no way in hell there isn't going to be them; them was in the way E kissed him back, them was in the way he woke up with E in his arms and can't imagine never waking up that way again, them is in the way he feels when he looks at E, when he thinks about him. Vince doesn't answer, just shrugs and smiles.  E isn't a conquest, he's the best friend he's ever had, ever will have.  He toys with the word 'lover' in his head and likes it. "He's gonna be okay, guys." They both nod and hopefully they understand that it's not just Vince blowing off the whole suicide attempt thing.  This is Vince after two heavy if short conversations, and there will be more.  What's odd about them is that they haven't felt heavy, or awkward.  E did what he did, he's not proud of it but he's not ashamed of it either.  He's been willing to talk about it and Vince wants him to talk about it, is more than willing to listen like he knows Turtle and Johnny are too. "See you in the morning." "G'night Vince." - "Night, bro." When he climbs back into bed, E turns over, still mostly asleep, and drapes himself over him.  It brings a smile to Vince's face - E probably imagines he's back with Sloan or something - but he wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head before closing his eyes.  It's some start to a relationship and it's probably the worst idea they've ever had, including Medellin, but Vince is determined that this isn't going end up the train wreck their movie became.  At least this time he isn't acting. # One Week Later He hears Lloyd's whisper/shout to Ari as he walks along the colourful corridor.  "E's here!"  It's a combination of surprise and fear - he's heard that mix a lot over the last ten days. He smiles at Lloyd as he passes.  Ari's office door is open and he walks straight in.  Ari's standing behind his desk, welcoming while at the same time keeping the illusion of some defensive barrier between himself and Vince Chase's possibly insane manager. "E!  Welcome back!  It's good to see you, man."  It's forced, and E stops with his hands crossed in front of him and waits for the fake grin to fade.  It does.  "I'm sorry, E, I really, really am.  I never meant to push you into doing that, I swear." E nods slowly.  "I know, Ari, which is why you're going to listen, okay?"  He leans forward, palms flat on the desk and because of his height it forces Ari to sit down to get level with him.  "I am not completely responsible for all the mistakes Vince has made.  He was the one who refused to do Aquaman 2.  He was the one who paid five mil for Medellin and practically bankrupted himself.  Billy Walsh was my fault and I take full responsibility for him although I did try to get him removed from the movie when I realised my mistake.  The makeup was my fault and for that I apologise unreservedly.  We're all responsible for where we are, Ari, but if you ever call me again and lay into me the way you have been doing I'll resign as Vincent Chase's manager, and that might sound like a great thing or an empty threat, but I mean it - and you want to believe me when I tell you that if I resign because of you he will fire you." He takes a breath, lifts a single finger to silence Ari before he starts to speak.  "That idea too might also seem like a good one right now, but you know as well as I do that he's going to be a big movie star, that it's just a matter of time before the studio film happens and the offers start coming in and he's making millions.  We both know it."  Ari's mouth opens again and E shakes his head.  "I said listen, Ari."  A nod, and he carries on.  "In return, I promise not to show Vince a script before running the title passed you, and I promise not to show him any more Indie scripts until he's done a studio film.  I also give you my word that I'll listen more to your advice and as long as you're not bullshitting me at the time, Ari, I will try to follow it."  Ari's nodding, appreciative if his expression's anything to go by.  "Do we have an agreement?" "Yes, E."  He's more serious than E can ever remember him being and he straightens up, offering his hand.  Ari takes it, shakes it, and relief puts massive smile on his face.  "We're back in business, baby."  E can hear voices out in the corridor, hears Vince greeting people, being welcomed back.  As if on cue, Ari asks, "So, how's our boy?" E smiles too, "He's absolutely fine," as Vince walks into Ari's office, wraps his arms around E's waist possessively from behind, and drops his chin onto E's shoulder, smiling down at Ari.  E very much enjoys watching the relief fade from Ari's face.  "Actually, there is one other thing I need to tell you…."