"Gary?" Andy knocked on the door for the second time, and, once again, got no answer. He opened carefully, just in case Gary was still asleep, and peeked in. Empty. He stared at the tangled sheets before him, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at.

They had gotten to his apartment about a day before, after getting back from Newton Haven. Andy reckoned that he had never seen Gary as quiet as he had been in the car drive back home. It was so unlike him, Andy couldn't help but feel uneasy. It had been a long time since the last he had felt protective of Gary King, but damn him if that wasn't exactly how he felt then. So when they arrived to London, Andy didn't wait for Gary to give directions to his place; he simply stated that they were both going to his apartment, and gave his own address. Gary didn't argue. Well, he didn't even reply, actually, but he didn't have to; he wasn't going back to whichever hole he had crawled up from, not if Andy had a say in the matter.

It was morning already when they arrived, but Andy still felt a bit drunk. After they showered, Gary sat on the kitchen table while Andy made them something to eat. He looked ridiculous on Andy's old clothes, three sizes too big for him, sitting static, staring into the wall and not saying a word. Neither of them ate much at all. Afterwards, they simply headed to bed. It was all kinds of strange seeing Gary walk into his kids' room, but he really didn't have any other beds other than his and wife's and his kids' beds, so they had to do.

It must have been evening when he woke up, but Andy didn't really look at the time. The hangover he was experiencing was so fierce he could barely stand... or sit, or lie down, or be comfortable in any position, really. It was an awful but powerful reminder of why he hadn't had a drink in sixteen years. All he really wanted was to drink a thousand water bottles and go back to bed, but he didn't; he got up to go and check on his friend.

Gary was quietly sitting on the couch, watching some telly. He didn't look as bad as before, he didn't even look as bad as Andy probably did. Granted, he was probably not as hangover as him, since he was much more used to drinking, but still it made Andy feel a bit more relaxed to see Gary looking a little better. He went to the kitchen, grabbed two huge glasses of water, sat besides Gary without a word and handed him one of the glasses. He seemed a bit confused at first, as if he didn't really know what to do with it or even why he had it in his hands. He just looked at Andy, muttering a quiet 'thanks' and took a couple of sips. After that he seemed to realize he was actually very thirsty and drank its entire contents in mere seconds. Andy did the same with his water, and they sat there in silence for a while, watching but not really watching whatever was going on on the TV for hours, until their eyes started dropping again.

Andy didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he felt the familiar warmth of sunshine on his face. He quickly took a look around the room for Gary but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had gotten up and went to sleep in a bed, like a normal person, Andy thought, so he went to check the bedroom.

Now, as he stood there in his kids' empty bedroom, he couldn't help but wonder if Gary had left for good.

Saying that Gary had had a rough night was a serious understatement. True, he had managed to get some sleep when they first arrived to Andy's but after all that had happened the night before, he had been simply exhausted. And besides, if he were to be perfectly honest, he was still a wee bit drunk.

He had felt a bit like a zombie as they drove from Newton Haven back to London; his mind kept trying to process everything that had just happened, but it was hopeless, it was just too much. So he stared into the abyss, hoping that it had all been a bad dream. And then they finally got to Andy's apartment and they showered, and ate, and slept, and sobered up… And Gary began realizing just what the night before had meant, what had actually happened back there and how… and how it was all his fault. Two of his friends were dead, and it was all his fault.

So as Andy slept on the couch, Gary could only sit there, awake, feeling something crawling under his skin, an itch he couldn't exactly locate but that he knew could only come from his head, reminding him what a failure he was and how, if all his previous mistakes weren't enough, he had now turned into his friends' executioner as well. And, soon enough, he felt a thirst. The thirst. So familiar by now, he had actually been waiting for it this time. He knew he had to do something about it, and soon too, but, for the longest time, he couldn't move. Not with Andy resting his head on his shoulder. Not because he was afraid he would wake up, he could just lie; say he was going to be bathroom, to bed, whatever. Andy would go back to sleep a second after. But because he couldn't remember the last time he felt like somebody would care if he weren't there. And, funnily enough, that person was Andy, of all people.

Andy who Gary had hurt so much in the past, he had sworn never to speak with him again. And yet, there he was. Taking him to his place, feeding him, letting him sleep in his kids' room, lending him his shower, his clothes... bringing him water and lying on his shoulder. Gary could feel his heart race at the thought of letting him down again.

Of course Gary knew what Andy had in mind, bringing him here. He was a mess, not an idiot -even though he'd play the part sometimes. Andy and Gary had had themselves a little talk the night before, and no matter how drunk he was, there was no way Gary could forget a single word that was said. Andy had realized Gary had a problem about two decades before Gary himself did, but Gary could still see the heartbreak in his eyes when he saw his wrists.

And now there were both here, and soon enough Andy was going to tell Gary a bunch of stuff he already knew, stuff he had heard a thousand times before. Only this time it felt... different. It had been a while since he had actually let anyone down; it's difficult to, you know, when no one really cares. But he knew if he fucked up again, he was going to lose Andy, for good this time.

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He shouldn't have been feeling this doubtful; he had had a plan before that Friday night, and he should have been sticking to it. It wasn't that complicated even: find the guys, go to Newton Haven, finish the crawl, say goodbye and then… leave. For real this time. He was not going to mess it up again. But things didn't go quite as planned; for sure his plans didn't include aliens or robots or both or whatever the fuck they were. They didn't include Oliver and Pete dying either.

Not really thinking about what he was doing or why, Gary looked down at his arms and lifted his sleeves; the bandages he hadn't bothered to change now just rags, the still red scars peeking underneath. He felt his stomach turn at the sight. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why was he feeling this way now? He bit his lower lip. 'It isn't that hard, Gary.' he told himself. 'Find the guys, go to Newton Haven, finish the crawl, say goodbye and then do it, just do it, do it!'

At that exact same moment it seemed Andy decided it was the perfect time to let out a single, monumentally loud snore. Gary jumped so high on his seat, Andy's head slid from his shoulder and, still asleep, he turned it to face the other side, leaving Gary completely free. He stared at Andy for a bit, and when he convinced himself he was still sleeping, he got up. He wasn't sure just what exactly he was planning to do next, but he decided he'd figure it out as he went.