A few minutes later, as Nathan was taking the bowl of canned chicken soup from the microwave – he was a bachelor; microwaves were more his speed – he heard a loud thud. The thud was closely followed by a series of curses that probably made the tips of even Nathan's ears red.

Probably, he said. He couldn't tell.

Either way, being that both the thud and the choice language both came from the bedroom, Nathan got the sneaking suspicion that Duke was responsible. And truth be told, that thud was just a little too familiar. He'd heard one almost exactly like it the first night.

Needless to say, Nathan got worried. Sitting the bowl of soup down on the closest available empty surface, he took off through the kitchen and through the door of the bedroom.

He wasn't sure if he was more concerned or pissed off by what he saw. There was Duke, surprisingly upright, though Nathan suspected that was largely due to the way he was clinging to the bedside table. It seemed to him like that was also the source of the thud, because a couple of the books that had been on the table were now on the floor. Probably hit it pretty hard when he was trying to catch his balance.

Or maybe lack of balance would have been more fitting. He only had one leg to stand on, the other held gingerly off the ground. He only had one hand to grab onto the table with, too, what with how his other shoulder was still giving him fits. He could tell from the bruises still peeking out from the bandages around it that it was still in bad shape; Nathan knew from experience that dislocated shoulders took a while to heal. That said, he couldn't really be the judge of how much they hurt while they did. He'd wager a lot, he guessed…it took a lot of pain to knock Duke Crocker on his ass.

Which was actually something he wanted to avoid, if at all possible. Something told him Duke was about one rock of the boat away from face-planting, and knowing Duke's luck, he'd manage to crack his head open or something.

That in mind, he didn't bother chiding Duke. That could come later, when he wasn't balanced precariously on one foot and gritting his teeth in pain. Instead, he quickly came up behind him and slipped an arm around his lithe hips. The other went to guide Duke's good arm over his own shoulder so that he could hopefully keep him upright when he took away his balance.

Duke, however, wasn't quite willing to give up his only support just yet. He let out a soft, unintelligible protest that Nathan was pretty sure he hadn't meant to, and tightened his grip on the edge of the table.

At first, Nathan was a little annoyed. He thought Duke was just being difficult. But then he saw the white on his knuckles…the way his hand shook – hell, the way most of him shook – with the effort, and the way sweat beaded on his brow. He'd gone pale, everywhere but his flushed cheeks.

It was tenacity, Nathan realized, but behind it there was just a little bit of fear. He was suddenly reminded of their first day in ninth grade…"teambuilding day." They'd marched them all out to the back of the school to the bleachers – this being the age before doing such a thing would've gotten them sued to hell and back – and made them do trust falls. Everyone had done it: the nerds, the bullies, the bullied, the jocks…everyone.

Everyone except Duke. He'd strategically managed to never be front in line, despite the fact that they did three whole rotations. At first, Nathan just thought he was being an elitist ass; now he knew better. Duke, between his drunk bastard of an old man and the less-than-friendly circles he seemed to run in, had understandably developed a few trust issues.

And that had been a relatively casual scenario.

Casual, this was not. Duke was probably in a world of pain, and asking him to trust even Nathan enough for him to let go of his proverbial life raft was asking a whole hell of a lot. That said, Nathan had to get him back to bed somehow, and he really didn't want to carry him there. Not to say he couldn't, he just didn't think Duke would appreciate it.

So, with that venue out, he decided he would try something a little less drastic. For now, at least.

"Duke, you want to let go of that?" he said. Because maybe talking to him would work.

For a moment, Duke seemed to think about it, but then he shook his head.

"You don't want to let go of it?"

"I'm good, thanks." His voice sounded shaky at best, and reedy from the effort it was taking him to keep vertical.

It was all Nathan could do not to let out a sigh. Not a frustrated one, either – okay, maybe a little frustrated. Mostly, though, he was sympathetic. He hated seeing Duke miserable probably about as much as Duke hated being miserable; the only difference was that he could help him where Duke couldn't help himself.

That said, he wasn't going to force him. If he pulled him away from the table and Duke somehow lost his balance, then he'd feel guilty. Besides, that would only serve to upset the poor guy more, and that seemed a little counterproductive.

Still, he tightened his grip a little around Duke's hips, not to pull him away, but to make sure Duke knew he had him. "I'm not going to let you fall," he said. "It's okay."

"I said I'm good."

"And I said you're not, so stop being a kid and let me help."

Nathan realized a little belatedly that he'd probably just crossed a line. And if he hadn't realized it on his own, he probably would've figured it out when Duke shoved him away and turned on him.

"I don't want your help!" he said, but he'd no sooner finished speaking than he lost his balance. Nathan only barely managed to catch him before he fell face-first into the floor of the cabin, and it only got harder from there. Still dead-set on proving he could manage himself, Duke tried to shove him off with everything he had. Luckily for Nathan, he had more, and he held fast. "Let me go!"

"If I do, you'll fall," Nathan said. There was no doubting it. Even if Duke could stand on his own, he didn't even have his feet under him right then. The way he'd fallen and the way Nathan had grabbed him left his knees bowed under him. There was no way in hell he'd be able to support his weight and right himself, and Nathan for one didn't have it in him to let the guy drop like a rock. This wasn't his fault, anyway…well, not really. Duke was self-sufficient – it was just something he was. Something he valued. And now, he couldn't even stand on his own, and it had to be killing something inside him.

But that didn't mean Nathan would just let him screw everything up. He hated that Duke couldn't take care of himself, but that was just the way it was. Beat up like he was, the guy was lucky Nathan hadn't just carried him out to the truck and driven him to the hospital. As it was, he needed to get Duke off his feet before he managed to hurt himself…worse.

"Duke, don't fight me," he said. "Please, I don't want to hurt you. Just calm down and let me help you back to bed before you break something a first aid kit can't fix."

Duke wasn't listening to reason, though. "Just get off!" he snapped. If anything, he started fighting harder. Nathan was losing his grip on him. He felt his heart clench. His nerves were at an end. "I can take care of myself!"

"No, you can't!"

Everything froze. Duke froze, like he couldn't believe the words Nathan has just said. Nathan froze, because he couldn't believe he'd just said them. They'd just…he'd been so hurried, so frantic. They'd slipped out.

It was too late to take them back, at any rate. As soon as he recovered from his own shock, Nathan used the pause for a chance to get Duke over to the bed. Carefully as he could manage, he eased him down before things got any worse.

On second thought, it seemed a little late for that after all.

As soon as Duke was sitting on the bed, Nathan squatted down in front of him. He had to; Duke's head was bowed, and it was the only way he could get a look at his face.

And what a pitiful face it was. Duke looked torn between fury and absolute, bone-crushing misery.

The look wrenched something in Nathan's chest. Like a knife, like a cord wrapped too tight…he felt a lump in his throat. Guilt. He hadn't meant to say what he'd said. It might not have seemed like much – he was just telling the truth – but that was a truth Duke didn't need to hear. Not right then, and not like that.

"I'm sorry," he said after a long moment. He reached out to touch Duke's flushed cheek, and tried to pretend the knife didn't twist when Duke flinched back. "Duke…I didn't mean…that's not…" He sighed. "I know you're independent; I get that. But come on – you're beat to hell. It doesn't matter whether you can take care of yourself or not."

He sat up a little straighter, and this time when he went to cup Duke's cheek, the younger man didn't move. Instead, he seemed to shrink into himself, and Nathan watched as a single tear slipped from Duke's bruised eye. He felt the moisture of it and the ones that followed as they fell to his hand. Finally, though, he had gotten through to him. Finally, he knew that Duke would hear him when he said what he needed to say.

"Because you don't have to."

With a soft smile, he slipped a hand behind Duke's head and pulled him close. Sitting up on his knees, his head was level with Duke's, and it was easy to pull the younger man into a firm embrace. At first, Duke stiffened.

But then, as if a valve had been released, he just deflated. It was hard to tell for a moment what was going on, but then Nathan felt the moisture seep through the shoulder of his shirt…he felt the soft sobs shake Duke's body. For the longest while, there were no words. Duke clung to Nathan, and Nathan held him in return.

"They were on my boat…"

The words were so soft that Nathan wasn't sure if he'd heard them or imagined them the first time. But then they kept going, muffled by Nathan's shoulder and filled with so many emotions, Nathan couldn't even begin to decipher them all.

So, he didn't try. He just…listened.

"I couldn't—everything…they knew everything." Duke sat back; Nathan let him…and for the very first time, he saw the full depth of the trauma that had been lying just beneath the surface since they'd first boarded the Cape Rouge. "It was my boat, Nathan," Duke said, and Nathan couldn't think that the past tense meant nothing. "But they knew. They caught me on my own boat…tied me up…beat me with my own guns. And I couldn't—I couldn't do anything."

That was it, then. The pain was bad, the wounds were horrible, but it was this that had done the greatest damage. The violation of his ship, of the only home Duke had ever really known, of his sanctuary…that had been the greatest blow.

Nathan understood, now, and the sympathy he'd felt before wrenched sharper in his gut. What could he say to something like that? What could he say to make that okay? To make Duke feel safe again?

Nothing. The answer was nothing: nothing he could say that would fix this the way he so desperately wanted to.

So, he didn't say anything. Instead, he wrapped his arms around him, and he held him. He held him because he couldn't tell Duke he was safe, couldn't tell him he was okay.

But maybe, just maybe, he could show him.