"Nate, we've been through this!" I yell, gesturing with my hands. "Sam is bad news. He's going to get you killed!"

The kid scoffs and rolls his eyes. "He's my brother! He wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"Blood ties only get you so far, kid. He may not be the one pulling the trigger, but he might be the one aiming for you."

"Sam would never point a gun at me. I think you're just jealous."

"Oh, please."

"You're jealous that I'm doing a job with him and not you."

"That is not true. You are acting like a child."

"Good comeback, Sherlock," he sneers. "Maybe I'm acting like a child because you always treat me like one."

"Oh, not this again." I shake my head, turn around, and run a hand through my hair. "Kid, I'm just trying to keep you from getting killed."

"Well, maybe I don't need your help! I can take care of myself!"

"Then go!" I turn back on him, letting my exclamation ring throughout the apartment. I immediately want to take it back when I see the look of hurt on his face, but I have to tell him straight. "I don't want to be the cause of your demise. I don't think I could live with myself."

Nate lifts his bag up over his shoulder all the while glaring at me. "Then I'll leave, if that's what makes you happy."

I try to stop him by the door. "Kid, don't."

"Let go of me!" He pulls his wrist from my hand. I take a step back at the look of hate he gives me. "I can't believe I stayed with you this long. Y-You're so controlling and-and manipulative! Sam was right. You're using me."

"Nate, do you really think that?" I fix him with a look, still blocking the doorway with my body. "After all we've been through, you think I'm just using you? That was never my intention, kid. You're my friend. In fact, you're my best friend. I'm not trying to manipulate you, I'm trying to keep you safe. That's what friends do."

The kid swallows hard, not meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry, Sully," he whispers. "I can't stay here. I would be limiting myself. Sam can give me more opportunities."

I frown and reach out to tilt Nate's head up. My grey eyes meet his impossibly blue ones. "That's not my kid talking. That's Sam."

Nate slaps my hand away just after I catch a pinch of fear in his eyes. "I am not your kid!" he snaps. "I don't need you anymore! Goodbye!" He gives me one last hateful glare, then pushes past me and slams the door behind him.

I'm left on my own for the first time in eight years. Granted, Nate has had his own apartment since the age of eighteen, but I bet he spent more time here than there. And for that, I was grateful. I always slept better with him under the same roof. When he was away, I slept with my phone in my hand for quick access in case he needed me. Now is no different, even if he told me he hated me.

I sigh and roll over so my back is against the mattress. I absent-mindedly squeeze the phone with both hands, willing Nate to call with some kind of news. I've only met Sam a handful of times, but I got this weird vibe from him. I was on edge whenever he visited. I didn't mind that the kid got along with his brother, but I never liked the way Sam seemed to think himself above Nate. The kid claims it's just an older brother thing, but I'm not so sure.

"What's the matter with me?" I whisper to myself. In all my years, I've never been this worried about anyone, myself included. Nate's an adult now. He can take care of himself. "I'm just being over dramatic."

I roll out of bed at an ungodly hour during Nate's seventh day away. I get a glass of water, keeping the phone close at hand just in case. Nate may be a capable adult, but I still have this weird feeling in my bones. "When did I become such an old man?" I ask myself, taking another sip.

I flinch at the sound of knocking at my door. Frowning, I extirpate myself from the stool and peer through the peephole. My heart leaps at the sight of a distorted, dark haired, young man. I quickly unlock the door to a grim looking Nate. He meets my gaze and says, "Sam's dead." His voice holds no emotion, but his eyes carry pain and grief.

"Oh, Nate," I sigh, taking his bag and ushering him inside. "I'll get you something to drink. Beer?"

"More like whiskey," he mutters, collapsing at the bar.

"Okay, coming right up." I rifle through the cabinets for a glass and the whiskey. Nate absent-mindedly fiddles with the ring hanging around his neck. "Here, buddy. Drink up." I slide the glass over and Nate downs it in one go.

"One more, please," he says, laying his head against the bar surface.

"So, you wanna tell me what happened?" I ask quietly, pouring Nate another glass.

He shakes his head no against the wood. His forehead remains planted against the bar until I place the refilled glass next to his head. He sucks the new one dry, then slides off the stool to unsteadily land on his feet. "I'm going to bed," he rasps, refusing to make eye contact. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, no. I don't mind. Sleep will do you some good. See you in the morning," I wave.

As soon as he disappears into his room, I let out a sigh of relief. Nate's okay... Oh, thank god, Nate's okay. I pour myself a shot of whiskey for the hell of it, then make my way to the couch. The stupid thing about getting older is: once you're up, you're up. I put the TV on mute and watch M*A*S*H* reruns with the subtitles on.

Four episodes later, I hear movement coming from down the hall. Nate turns the corner into the TV room quickly and startles at the unexpected sight of it's lone occupant. "Oh, you scared me," he breathes, putting a hand over his chest. "I thought you went to bed."

"Eh. It's never too late for a little Radar fix," I say, motioning towards the screen. "Can't sleep?"

"Uh, sorta..." He slings his duffel onto his shoulder and begins to make his way towards the door. "I was just thinking over the, um... 'conversation' we had before I left. I forgot we weren't really on speaking terms. Sorry to get in your way."

"Wait, what? Hold your horses, kid." I shake my head in confusion. "Since when are we not on speaking terms?"

"Since I yelled at you and left."

I sigh and rub my eyes tiredly. "Nate, we're partners. We're supposed to argue. It's healthy. So what, you yelled at me? It's not the end of the world."

"So... you're not mad?"

"No," I scoff. "I actually kind of deserved the tongue lashing anyway."

Nate's eyes give the slightest glimmer of a smile, the closest I've actually seen him get so far. "So, um, can I just stay here tonight? I'm kind of tired and I don't really want to drive-"

"Say no more," I cut him off. "You can stay here as long as you want. You always have a place here, remember?"

Another smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. Thanks Sully."

"No problem, kid. Now get some sleep. Morning will be here before you know it and I've got a big breakfast planned for tomorrow."

Nate raises a slightly amused eyebrow. "I'm gonna hold you to that, old timer."

I chuckle with relief as his figure finally recedes down the hall. Now that the boy is finally back under my roof, I can finally stop having heart attacks every time the goddamn phone rings.