// indicates thought

*****

TEXAS
1834 HOURS

"Riley's in trouble. He needs help."

The two men in the darkened office listened to the Slayer's tinny voice without an outward reaction, then Major Jake Ellis turned off the recorder with a slow, carefully measured movement and looked at his most experienced team leader. Second Lieutenant Graham Miller clenched his jaws and met his gaze head-on. "That does it. I'm going to Sunnydale."

The major smiled wryly. No surprise there. Actually, he would've been alarmed if the man had reacted in any other way. He'd been itching to go save his friend since they'd discovered the after-effects of the drug cocktail Walsh fed the Initiative soldiers. Graham was still recovering from emergency surgery himself. It hadn't stopped him from fretting when Riley Finn had balked at the idea of coming in and letting the military doctors take care of him, but it had been the reason Ellis flat out refused to let his subordinate travel across the country just to bring the stubborn ex-commander to his senses.

The only reason he decided to revise his decision was Finn still hadn't changed his opinion, and if they didn't do something soon, he would die. Ellis didn't know what exactly was going on between the man in front of him and the mule-headed bastard in Sunnydale, but he had the strong suspicion that if they lost Finn, they'd lose Miller too. Personally, the major didn't give a shit about the Iowan, but he couldn't afford to sacrifice his most successful field leader. So in order to keep Graham Miller, he had to let him go. "Take Goodman and Brown with you," he ordered.

Graham blinked. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Well, you're not going alone," Ellis told him curtly. "Your choice. You either take the two with you, or we'll send in a search and rescue unit."

The younger man shuddered. "I'll take them."

"Thought so. And, Miller?"

"Yes, sir?"

"You stay in the background, is that clear? You're only there to talk Finn into cooperating. No fighting. No running around, chasing demons. No jumping off buildings, getting into firefights, or playing chicken with vampiric centaurs. That's an order."

Graham raised an eyebrow. "I *am* allowed to defend myself, aren't I?"

Ellis glared at him. "That's gonna be Goodman's and Brown's job. You're still recuperating. So fucking act like it, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA
1454 HOURS

He was still magnificent.

Graham leaned against the backrest of the bench and watched Riley lay into his hapless opponents on the basketball court. Those poor, innocent college guys didn't stand a chance. Even without the enhancements the ex-soldier could have defeated them easily. Things being as they were, all they could do was scramble after Riley like a litter of puppies.

"Damn, he's good," a voice whispered in Graham's ear, the awe audible even through the tiny transmitter.

He didn't bother to turn around and look at Matthew Brown, who was hanging back with his partner, also watching Riley. "He is," he agreed easily, though it was an effort to keep the growing worry out of his answer.

Yes, Riley was good. His tall, sun-tanned body was moving with an almost uncanny speed and strength, a golden flash between the other players. He made it look easy. Graham remembered how it had felt to be so strong and tireless, way beyond the normal limits of a human body. To know you could run a hundred miles and not falter, or take on a dozen vampires unarmed, knowing without a doubt you would win that fight. It was a good feeling. An illusion of freedom that was awfully tempting. Addictive.

So easy to forget about the price you had to pay.

//I have something to say: It is better to burn out than to fade away!// Graham smiled grimly at the thought. If he remembered right, the guy who'd said that in the first Highlander movie died in the end. Well, he'd keep Riley from the same fate, if he had to drag him to the doctor kicking and screaming. Maybe Riley thought the beautiful Slayer was worth dying for; Graham didn't. A man shouldn't throw away his life for unrequited love. It was a stupid way to go.

//Yeah. Look who's talking.//

Just then Riley spotted him. He broke off the game, dismissing the other guys casually, and strolled over. He acknowledged Graham's presence with a barely perceptible nod and by saying his name, but walked right on to the water fountain, quenching his thirst before bothering to talk to his friend. Nice. Seemed like he wasn't any more ready to discuss his problem with Graham than with anyone else. Tough luck.

Graham got up a bit stiffly; he was still sore and the trip from Texas to California had been more tiring than he'd like to admit. Much as he hated it, Ellis was probably right. He was in no condition to go traipsing through Sunnydale. Better to get this over with and Riley to the doctor before he keeled over himself and Goodman and Brown dragged his ass back to the hospital.

He introduced his escort without going into detail as to why they were there, then tried to get Riley to listen to him. Of course his friend was being less than cooperative. Not that his reaction was unexpected, but true to Riley's awful sense of timing, it came at an especially inconvenient moment.

"Please, take me where they can make me unconscious and naked."

Graham loved the man, deeply and unconditionally, but when Riley was trying his hand at sarcasm like that, implying that Graham was trying to trick him, he had to fight the impulse to punch the stupid bastard. Either that or kiss him until he realized what he meant to Graham. In the end, he did neither. He exercised the self-control he was getting famous for and even managed to keep his voice down. "Hey, you think I'd pull something on you?"

Looking into his eyes, Riley seemed to realize that he'd overstepped a line. He retreated a bit, but not much. "You're still in. I'm out. I don't know what orders you're following."

Graham barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. After all they'd been through... "Oh, come on," he snapped, worry, anger and exhaustion eating away on his patience. "You know Walsh pumped all those chemicals and crap into us. You got more than anyone. She messed us up bad." In more than one way. If you trusted somebody so much and then got betrayed so badly, it left scars that took a long time healing.

Unfortunately, Riley still wasn't listening. "And now the government's knocking themselves out to kiss it and make it better."

//No, you oblivious idiot. *I* am.// Deciding not to go into that right now, with Goodman and Brown hovering right behind him and hanging on every word they said, Graham brought the topic back to the heart of the matter. "Riley, I'm telling you, you need help. I'm not saying it to trick you." //I never tricked you before, why the hell should I start now? Come on, man, get your brain in gear. Think, goddammit!//

Riley shook his head, still skeptical, but there was something in his eyes that made a spark of hope flare up in Graham. They'd been friends, once. Lovers. That had to mean *something*. Though, from Riley's point of view, he'd probably consider them fuck buddies rather than lovers. He'd never known just how much he meant to his friend. But even so, there was still enough trust between them for Riley to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Maybe you even believe this."

"I know it. You don't want this."

Riley still looked somewhat doubtful, but he was finally willing to listen. "You're sure you got the fix for it?" He didn't sound overly enthusiastic at the prospect.

Graham fought down a wave of dizziness and locked his knees, which didn't feel too steady right then. This was taking too long. He knew he needed to rest, or at least sit down, but he didn't dare show it. He had yet to convince his friend. "Yeah. We got a guy, a doctor." He couldn't remember the name of the man, hoped Riley wouldn't ask. "He's gonna take care of you, and we're going to him now." And still Riley was hesitating, willing to jeopardize his health just to keep up with a girl who didn't love him. The worn thread of Graham's patience tore with an almost audible rip. "I'm not giving you a choice."

He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words left his lips. Riley had never reacted well to force. If he felt somebody was pushing him, he pushed right back. All Graham could hope now was that he'd push back verbally only.

"I guess you're not," Riley said, almost amiably.

Then his fist connected with Graham's face. The last thing the soldier thought before he hit the ground and lost consciousness was that he really, honestly hated Sunnydale.

********************

Two hours later, he hated the town even more. When he woke up Jake Goodman, who looked like he'd had a run-in with a cement-mixer, was on the radio, calling for an ambulance. Matthew Brown was carefully shoving up Graham's tight, wine-red sweater, trying to figure out if he'd torn his stitches. He hadn't, but it sure hurt bad enough. He made Goodman withdraw his call for an ambulance, pushed Brown away, and cursed Riley until he ran out of breath, which -- considering his condition -- was pretty soon.

Having to ask Buffy for help didn't exactly help his mood. She was her usual charming self, showing very clearly that she thought it was his fault that her boyfriend was in this situation in the first place. He bit back an acid reminder that he'd gone through the same shit as Riley, not least thanks to the fact that he'd stayed with the Initiative to protect his friend. And anyway, it wasn't his fault that Riley was so tied up in knots because of her that he didn't think clearly. The Riley Finn Graham had known before they'd met the Slayer wouldn't have felt the need for super powers.

The rest of the afternoon didn't go much better.

When he reported in with Major Ellis, he found out that Brown had already called and informed the major about their confrontation with Riley. Ellis was livid; he wanted Graham to come back to Texas and leave his friend to a S&R unit. Knowing how Riley would react to the appearance of a group of armed commandos, Graham spent an hour persuading his superior to let him handle the situation. At least Ellis didn't know about Riley punching him out, or the major would have ordered him back in an instant.

First crisis averted, Graham went on to prepare everything for Riley's operation.

The head of the hospital was giving him trouble because they didn't want to provide the operating room on such short notice. He couldn't well pull rank on a civilian, so he had to be diplomatic...not his strongest suit even in good times. Finally he found a female doctor whom he got on his side through a mixture of charm and sheer desperation. With her help he got the room. It was only a small one, in the back of the building, but it was better than nothing.

Once he'd secured the location he went in search of Dr. Overheiser, who'd disappeared while Graham had been negotiating with the natives. By the time Brown finally found the man flirting with a nurse in the lobby, Graham was dangerously close to killing somebody. When he told Overheiser to get into the operating room and stay there until either Riley arrived or Graham allowed him to leave, the doctor took one look into the icy gray eyes and hurried into the room.

It was 05:05 p.m. and Riley still wasn't there. Graham, painfully aware of each passing minute, was a hair's breadth away from leaving the hospital and go looking for his friend himself. Jake Goodman, just as aware that his superior was going to have a serious relapse if he didn't get some rest immediately, stopped him. It took both him and Brown to get Graham to lie down for a minute. Both of them were intensely relieved when he fell asleep almost as soon as his body was in the horizontal. They covered him with a light blanket and tiptoed out of the room.

********************

Graham woke three hours later, feeling marginally better. He panicked briefly when he realized how long he'd been out, calming down slowly after Goodman and Brown had assured him that no, Riley hadn't come yet, and yes, Dr. Overheiser was still waiting obediently in the operating room, fed and watered and not too mutinous.

They didn't look happy when he ordered them to go help search for Riley, but like Dr. Overheiser earlier that day they realized it wasn't wise to try and argue with him when he was in a mood like that. He gave them a list of places where their target might hide and they left, though under protest.

Graham decided to check on the surgeon. A few people glanced at him curiously when he strode through the corridors, but nobody tried to stop him. Survival instinct was strong so close to the Hellmouth. He pushed open the doors to the old tract of the hospital, greeting the guard he'd posted in front of the operating room with a nod.

Dr. Overheiser turned around when Graham walked into the room, a questioning look on his face. "Any word?" he inquired.

"They'll be here any minute." //I hope.// He saw the doctor study a folder in his hand and didn't like the look on his face. Worry and rising dread clawed at his insides like carnivorous butterflies trying to break free, but somehow he managed to keep his face stoic and the fear out of his voice. Well, mostly. "That's soon enough, right? I mean, if we bring him in now?"

Overheiser gave him a look that clearly stated that he thought the whole thing was a huge waste of time; his time, to be precise. "I'll be honest," he said, and Graham could have shot him for his tone of voice alone. "I'm not sure it's soon enough if you brought him in yesterday."

Graham was just debating whether to first tell the good doctor what he thought of his attitude and then turn around and go looking for Riley himself, or the other way round, when a knock on the door made him turn around quickly. Thank God, they'd found Riley. About damn time.

"Finally," he breathed and opened the door, ready to grab Riley and help maneuver him onto the operating table.

He had time for a confused frown when instead of his friend he found himself face to face with the guard; a flash of alarm when he realized the man was dead or unconscious and propped up by a stupidly giggling blonde who was followed by a smirking HST 17, then the guard's head collided with his.

Graham was unconscious before he hit the floor.

This was becoming a bad habit.

*****

Sometimes, just sometimes, Graham wished he were someone else. Anyone else. Preferably someone with a less dangerous job, a less bothersome past, and an intact love-life. Though at the moment he would've settled for someone with a harder skull. His head felt like a bunch of goblins were playing football in the empty space between his ears.

It didn't help that Riley was leaning over him, his honest face shadowed with concern. One large hand grabbed his arm, the other came to rest on his thigh - briefly, but gently. Almost deliberate. Almost a caress. Hey, a man was still allowed to dream! It wasn't like he had much else. He certainly didn't imagine the worry in his friend's voice when Riley called his name. "Graham? Graham!"

Then Riley was helping him up and his closeness was enough to muddle Graham's thoughts even more than the concussion he suspected he'd suffered. He'd gone for months without even hearing Riley's voice except for on tape; the sudden nearness was bringing his senses dangerously close to overload. Damn, he had it even worse than he'd thought. He could smell Riley, that warm, spicy fragrance that was carved indelibly into his sensory database, bringing up memories of naked skin and hot kisses, hours spent so lost into each other that the outside world ceased to exist. Razorblade touches; wounding and healing him at the same time.

So when Riley lifted a hand, showing him two fingers, and asked how many fingers he was holding up, Graham's mind snatched up the first piece of relevant information he happened to find and thrust it out in a more or less futile attempt at self-defense. "Seventeen."

He saw his friend and the Slayer exchange a look and would've smacked himself if his head hadn't hurt so much already. "Hostile Seventeen and a blonde girl," he clarified, feeling like the village idiot. God, he wasn't usually that slow, was he?

"Spike and Harmony, together again," Buffy sighed.

Graham, who'd gotten his feet under him again with Riley's help and was now standing very carefully still, hoping like hell nobody would notice how shaky he felt, chose not to comment on her obvious familiarity with the vampires. He couldn't help but wonder how HST 17 had known there was a military surgeon in town in the first place. Knowing that the vampire had to be itching to get the Initiative chip out of his head Graham had been careful to keep the doctor's presence secret. Then he noticed something else and forgot about how the mission had been compromised. "Where's Dr. Overheiser?"

Buffy frowned. "Uh, Spike must have taken him. What would Spike want with - " He could sense Riley faltering behind him before the Slayer had finished the thought. "The chip. He's gonna force the doctor to remove the chip from his brain."

Biting down a caustic remark a l� "Wow, did you think of that all by yourself?" Graham turned and looked at his friend, who was leaning bent over against the door frame and was gasping for breath. Fear shot through him at the sight of Riley looking so pale and weakened. He remembered Dr. Overheiser's words, the audible doubt that the operation would be a success and his lack of enthusiasm at the thought of trying it. For the first time he realized that he might well lose Riley. Not in a couple of months or years, but tonight. The thought hit him like a blow to the solar plexus.

Buffy was getting worried too. "Riley?" she asked.

Riley, obviously still struggling to prove his usefulness to his girlfriend, straightened up and tried a smile. He was probably aiming for reassuring, but only managed to make Graham even more worried than he'd been before. "I'm okay. Okay," Riley declared, less than convincing.

Graham suppressed the need to go to him and touch him, knowing he wasn't allowed to initiate physical contact while Buffy was present. He wasn't sure he'd make it to Riley anyway; he felt like he was made of brittle clay and was going to break into tiny pieces any time now. Dr. Keegan would have a fit when he saw the results of the abuse Graham's battered body had taken since leaving Texas.

So the soldier reluctantly tore his gaze away from the man he loved and turned to Buffy. Right now she was a lot better equipped to deal with Riley than he was. The only problem was that she didn't seem to grasp how serious the situation was. Desperate to get her into gear he nailed her with the most intense stare he could muster in his condition, trying to force her into action with the sheer force of his will alone. His voice was rough when he reminded her of what was at stake. "We're running out of time. We don't find the medic soon, he's not gonna make it."

//And I don't think I can go on without him.//

Buffy nodded slightly, her Slayer instincts finally kicking to the fore. "Okay, okay, brain surgery. He, he's gonna need a medical facility, he-he's gonna need, uh, uh, equipment..."

Grateful that somebody was at last taking over some of the responsibility, relieving the burden on his own shoulders, Graham tried to participate in the brain-storming, even though his weary mind seemed to be working at only half of its usual capacity. "This is a big hospital." Maybe HST 17, who, as Graham well remembered, was notoriously impatient, had simply dragged the doctor into the nearest operating room to get the chip out as quickly as possible.

But Buffy was of a different opinion. "No, uh-uh, he wouldn't do it here. It's too risky. We'll split up. Graham, get on the horn, or the...pipe, or whatever you guys get on, I-I want you to check animal hospitals, doctor's offices..."

He nodded his consent silently, accepting her greater understanding of this particular bloodsucker, and walked to the door, somehow managing to keep himself upright and going. He didn't look at Riley when he went past him, afraid he wouldn't be able to hide the storm of emotions raging behind his cool fa�ade.

Then Riley reached out and grabbed his arm. It was only a light touch, but he could just as well have tied Graham down with a couple of heavy steel chains, it stopped the soldier as effectively. The Iowan's hazel eyes were swirling with a jumble of feelings that were frighteningly close to Graham's; pain and regret the most prominent at the moment. "Hey, about before..."

Unable to take an apology right then, Graham brushed him off quickly, scrambling to get some distance between himself and his certain doom. "We're good. Apologize later, if you're not dead." He almost winced at the phrasing and met Riley's gaze briefly, relaying that he was sorry for the harshness of his words, and was shocked by the effect even that fleeting contact had on him.

The moment was gone in a heartbeat. Graham turned away hastily and escaped through the double doors into the more hectic part of the hospital. He hoped like hell Riley hadn't seen him shaking.

********************

The rest of the night went by in a flurry of activity and anxiety.

Graham mobilized a doctor to take care of the guard who'd been knocked out by Harmony. The man had suffered a broken skull and was in critical condition, but at least he wasn't dead. Graham had learned to be grateful for small things like that.

He called back Goodman and Brown as well as the two other soldiers who'd been out looking for Riley, and organized a systematic search of every medical facility in Sunnydale. He didn't have enough people to check out every location, so much of the search had to be done by telephone. If nobody answered the calls, a man was sent out to assess the situation. It was a time-consuming method and hell on Graham's nerves, but there was no way to go about it faster without losing the efficiency they needed.

After getting things going, Graham called his superior and asked for reinforcements. Major Ellis was not happy about the fact that their medic had been kidnapped by a chipped vampire. He gave Graham a lecture about his lamentable tendency to attract trouble, which ended in the gruff order to take care and try to avoid any more injuries. Then the major called the Sunnydale Army base and managed to round up a special task force to help with the search.

Though Graham wanted nothing more than to get out of the confines of the hospital and out on the streets to actively participate in the hunt for the kidnapped physician, he stayed where he was. Somebody had to hold the fort and coordinate the efforts, and since he was the highest ranking officer present that honor belonged to him. He hated it, even though he knew it was probably for the best. His head hurt so bad that his vision blurred from time to time, the fresh scar on his chest throbbed in time with his elevated heart rate, and he felt sick.

One of the medics, a Dr. Barrie, kept hounding him, trying to persuade Graham to let him check out his head. The soldier, who had neither the time nor the patience to endure any kind of fussing, alternated between snapping at the doctor to get lost and apologizing to irritated people on the phone who didn't understand why he called them in the middle of the night.

At four in the morning the office's usual occupant came in to work. She was not exactly ecstatic when she found out that her place was occupied by a bruised, bad-tempered young man with icy gray eyes and no intention to leave any time soon. The confrontation reminded the audience - consisting of Dr. Barrie, Goodman and Brown - of the infamous rendezvous between the Titanic and the iceberg. In this case, Graham was the iceberg. It took him fifteen minutes to usher Dr. Newman out of her own office. She didn't like it one bit.

At a quarter to five Graham found himself approaching the limits of his endurance. He'd only had three hours of sleep since he'd gotten up in Texas, at 0530 the previous day. His head was killing him. He'd thrown up twice. Both times he'd made it to the restroom just in time and with each trip it had been more difficult to get to his feet afterwards. It was dumb luck that nobody had seen him except for a nurse or two, who hadn't realized he wasn't being treated already. He was so tired he could barely string two sentences together, but too scared of losing Riley to give up yet.

Finally he leaned forward and rested his pounding head on his arms, just for a moment. Five minutes later he was fast asleep.

Goodman took the phone out of his hand and went to fetch Dr. Barrie, who'd been waiting for the soldier to crash. Together they maneuvered Graham out of the chair and carried him to a waiting stretcher. Dr. Barrie was going to do x-rays of his skull and neck and also wanted to do a CT scan just to make sure there was no bleeding in the brain. Goodman went with him to make sure his superior was going to be all right and Brown stayed behind to take over Graham's post.

By the time Riley called at half past six Matthew Brown's respect for Lieutenant Miller had climbed another notch. It wasn't easy to keep tabs on all the teams without the advantage of the usual high-tech equipment, especially since the soldiers they had 'borrowed' from the Sunnydale base were firmly lodged in what Graham had earlier called rather acerbically the HDS - Hellmouth Denial Syndrome - and tended to take extensive detours to avoid the hotspots of Sunnydale's nightlife.

Since Riley didn't know Graham's cell phone number he had to call the hospital and ask to be put through to his friend. Brown took the call a couple of minutes later, after he'd directed two teams to a veterinary who hadn't answered the phone. "Brown," he bellowed, crossing out the another name on the list of medical facilities his superior had drawn up to keep track of things.

Surprised silence at the other end, then Riley Finn's weary voice said hesitatingly, "I'm sorry. I wanted to talk to Graham Miller. Is he there?"

Matthew sat up straighter when he realized who he was talking to. "Mr. Finn?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Yes. Is Graham there?"

Brown, uncertain how much he should tell the former Initiative soldier, decided to be diplomatic. "Lieutenant Miller can't come to the phone right now. What's your location? Do you need backup? Have you found Dr. Overheiser?"

Finn hesitated, still wary of the stranger. "I'd prefer to talk to Graham. Could you call him to the phone, please?"

Brown sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a tired gesture. "No, actually I can't. He's in need of medical attention and is with Dr. Barrie at the moment."

"He's hurt?" Finn sounded genuinely concerned.

Brown found himself mellowing a bit towards the Iowan, but not much. After all, it had been Finn who'd punched out the still convalescent Lieutenant that first time. So his answer came out a bit more brusque than intended. "He collapsed at this very desk not even two hours ago."

He couldn't see the other man's face, but he could sense his shock. Finn started to speak, broke off, was silent for a minute. When he finally spoke again, he sounded like a man who'd just been hit by a bullet and was now struggling to get his bearings. "How bad is it?"

Brown suppressed the urge to tell him the truth -- that Graham had looked more dead than alive -- but he knew the Lieutenant would probably skin him alive if he found out that Brown had worried his friend, so he settled for a less blunt answer. "He's going to need a vacation, but he'll recover." He hesitated. "He's pretty worried about you, you know. If I had some information on your status, that might help keep him in bed once he wakes up."

Finn sighed. "I'm all right. We found Dr. Overheiser, and he performed the operation. I'm currently at the Sunnydale Medical School. The doctor is with me."

Brown did the math and frowned. "And Ms. Summers? Is she also with you?"

"No." Curt. Definite I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it undertone. Brown had to suppress a smirk. So the petite Slayer had better things to do than to sit at her boyfriend's bedside after he had barely cheated death, hm? So much for true love.

"Did the operation go well?"

"Yes." Finn sighed. He didn't sound too happy about it. "I'm back to normal."

"That's good," Brown offered, at a loss what to say to the man now that the most pressing information had been exchanged. "Do you have a cell phone so we can contact you when Lieutenant Miller regains consciousness?"

Finn rattled off a number, then repeated it more slowly for Brown to write it down. He was audibly tiring. "Would you give Gray...Graham a message?" he asked finally.

"Of course."

"Tell him to meet me tomorrow at the university, okay? The usual time, the usual place."

Brown shook his head, though Riley couldn't see that. "Make that the day after tomorrow. He needs time to rest, and so do you."

Another one of those strange little silences. "Tell him to call me when the doctor has cleared him to leave the hospital."

"I will."

They hung up at the same time, neither of them saying goodbye.

********************

Moving slowly up the gravel pathway to the Sunnydale University's main entrance, Graham could feel his heart constrict painfully. He'd known he would return to Sunnydale, simply because Riley was there and whatever there was between them, it was not over by a long shot, but in his fantasies things had been a lot different from what they really were. Less violent. Less painful. Some of those dreams even featured a happy end. Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen to him.

He shook his head, slightly astonished at that pathetically romantic fool still entrenched stubbornly in a niche of his being. He should've learned by now. But no, the moment he lifted his head and saw Riley sitting on the stairs, waiting for him, his heart did that stupid little leap all over again, and he realized he'd never get rid of the slow burning love that was eating him alive. He was well and truly screwed, no pun intended.

Riley stood up when Graham reached him, smiling uncertainly. "Graham."

Not much in the line of a greeting, but better than a punch in the face, Graham mused. At least Riley didn't seem so frighteningly close to the edge anymore, like at the basketball court. He was still too pale and favoring a leg, his eyes strangely haunted, but he no longer seemed about to explode. Graham was thankful for it. His jaw still hurt from Riley's last venting, not to speak of his head.

In an unspoken agreement they fell in step with each other, walking down the light hallways of the university in companionable silence. Graham even managed not to flinch every time Riley winced when his leg bothered him. He couldn't have offered much in the ways of physical support anyway. The only reason he wasn't still in the hospital under Dr. Barrie's watchful eye was that he was good at faking. Hell, he'd finished missions with worse injuries, he wouldn't let a minor annoyance like a concussion keep him from meeting with Riley.

They had to look rather pitiful, he supposed - Riley pale and limping, Graham bruised and moving like an old man. Once or twice Riley would open his mouth as if to say something, but then he didn't. Now and then Graham would move a little closer to his friend, their arms touching gently. It was a strange feeling. Not unpleasant, but strange.

After a while, Riley told him about what had happened that night, about the fight with Spike and Harmony, Dr. Overheiser's trick with the penny, the operation. He also talked about Buffy. A lot. The most frequent adjectives he used were 'awesome', 'cool', and 'great'. Admiration and something close to adoration were shining from his eyes. Every word was like a knife in Graham's heart, but it wasn't jealousy that made him hurt. It was the realization that Riley knew. He just didn't want to see it yet.

Finally, Graham couldn't listen to it anymore. He wasn't sure how to approach the matter, diplomacy never having been his forte, but he did his best to ease into the subject carefully. "It's a good thing Buffy found you when she did, 'cause you were about to detonate big-time. Always said she's pretty impressive." Which was the simple truth. He'd liked the tiny Slayer from the start, which had been the main reason why he'd never tried to fight her for Riley. The thing was, she was about to hurt his friend, hurt him bad, and he couldn't just keep his mouth shut and not warn Riley.

Riley, who was either still too engrossed in his internal listing of his girlfriend's virtues, or hadn't listened closely enough to hear the 'but' coming, smiled a bit. "You know, she really is."

"But you know you don't belong here, right?" There went diplomacy. Graham felt Riley stiffen and stop, but kept on walking. He really didn't want to see his friend's face at that moment. Didn't want Riley to see his eyes either. Too much raw emotion there. Too much fear that he'd overstepped the line. And still he wasn't able to stop. "This town? I mean, you're nothing here." Not entirely true. Riley was still Riley, which was more than enough for Graham, but not for Riley himself. Riley wanted to be more, needed to be more. He was lost without a purpose. He had to feel that he was needed, or all his strength fell flat. What was a protector without something, some*one*, to protect?

"Hey." Riley's voice was sharp, cutting. Graham stopped, turned to look at him, trying very hard to look innocent, as if he had no idea how provoking his words had been. Riley was staring at him hard. "What are you saying?" He was tense, irritated, but listening.

Graham forced himself to keep his voice light, as if he was talking about something that was quite obvious. It was. For him. "Come on, man. You know it's true. There's nothing for you here." He knew his words sounded harsh, but they were true and he could see in Riley's eyes that the Iowan knew it, or at least had already started to discover this unpleasant reality.

Still Riley was stubbornly clinging to his decision. "There's her."

Graham returned his stare, no less determined. Cool. Contained. Keeping his emotions carefully in check, out of his voice, as he drove a few more truths home. "Okay, right, there's her. And? You used to have a mission, and now you're what? The mission's boyfriend? Mission's true love?" Mission's fuck toy?

He could see his words hit, could see them penetrate Riley's shields. He felt no satisfaction at the sight of his friend looking away, bowing his head, staring down at the floor. Riley's armor was already brittle. The man was no fool. He was in love, but not blind. He could see that Buffy didn't love him the way he loved her, and he was realistic enough to know she never would. Graham's words only served to show him that he wasn't imagining things, that his friend could see it, too.

If Riley had still been able to hold on to the illusion before, he was now stripped of the beguiling comfort of pretense. He walked past Graham without another word. He looked so defeated, so hurt, that Graham had to clench his fists to keep from touching him, pulling him close, offering what solace he could, emotional or physical, whatever Riley needed.

"You belong with us," he said instead, driving the point home with all the force he could muster, hoping at the same time that Riley knew him well enough to be able to hear the gentleness underlying the words. That he'd grasp the meaning of Graham's statement. //You're not alone. You have a place where you can go, whatever happens. You have somebody who cares about you; somebody who wants you for the man you are and not for the man somebody else wants you to be.//

But Riley walked away without giving any indication that he'd understood.

After a long moment, Graham swallowed his pride and followed him.

The End