�You left.�
He didn�t have to turn, because he knew that voice, and he didn�t want to see the disapproving face that went along with it.
�Yeah,� he replied dully, taking a long gulp of his drink. �I left. You expected me to, what? Stick around and do nothing for a few more hours?�
�Well�I thought you�d�� he trailed off, and Dan found that a part of him wanted to turn around and smack the self-righteous tone right out of that voice, but something in him held him back, and he just gripped his glass a little tighter.
�You thought I�d what, exactly? Jesus, Casey, the guy had a stroke! It�s not like there was anything I could do to fix it. What the hell good would sitting in a waiting room all night do anyways? It�s not like they�d let us in to see him or anything.�
Casey pulled up the bar stool next to him and sat down, but he still didn�t turn to face him. �So you figured getting drunk would help things,� he said mildly.
�Yeah, Case, that�s exactly what I thought. I thought that me getting drunk would solve all of my problems, and all of Isaac�s, and hell, all of yours while I�m at it.� He shook his head. �A guy can�t just get a drink these days without having some kind of ulterior motive?� He paused as Casey ordered a beer, then continued. �Anyway, you left.�
�I left to find you.�
�Oh.� He didn�t really have a better answer for that, so he just let it hang there for a few minutes while they drank in silence. Finally, a part of him made him ask, �How was he when you left?�
Casey sighed, and Dan finally turned to look at him. There were dark circles under his eyes that hadn�t been there when they left the studio, and he looked aged somehow, as if years had passed instead of hours. �The same,� he replied, and there was an unfamiliar defeat in his voice.
The silence returned, and lasted longer this time. Eventually, Dan felt like he had to say something, so he peered intently into his glass as he remarked, �You know, Bobbi Bernstein�s not crazy.�
�I know,� Casey replied. �You were the only one who ever thought she was.�
�No, I mean�� he finished contemplating his glass and emptied it instead, then signaled for a refill. �I mean about Spain. She wasn�t�she was right.�
�You slept with her and didn�t call her back.�
�Yeah. Well, no, not her exactly. And it wasn�t in Spain. At least I didn�t think it was.� Casey cast a sidelong glance at him, and he realized he�d probably have to explain. �Well, see, she wasn�t Bobbi then. She was Roberta. And the hotel, it was�I thought it was in Portugal.�
Casey raised his eyebrows. �Ugly Portugal Roberta? That was Bobbi Bernstein?�
�It was,� he agreed dismally, then frowned. �I told you that story?�
�You tell me all your stories, Danny.�
He thought a moment, then allowed a tiny smile to creep onto his face. �Yeah. I guess I do.� He paused, contemplating his drink some more, and then decided that it really wasn�t all that interesting. �You know, you haven�t told me all your stories, Case. Why is that?�
�Well, it�s �cause I don�t have stories. Not like you do.� There was a rueful quality to Casey�s half smile as he waved his empty bottle at the bartender.
�Sure you do. Everybody�s got stories. Tell me a story, Casey.� It was then that he realized the drinks were starting to get to him, but that had been the whole point of coming here, hadn�t it? So he gestured towards his empty glass as the bartender set another beer down in front of them, and he looked at Casey expectantly.
Casey�s smile got a little wider, a little less sad. �You�re seriously sitting there, what, waiting for story time? I�m telling you, I�ve got nothing to tell. What you know about me already, that�s all there is to know.�
�You�re seriously telling me that what I know about you right now, the stories you�ve told me over the years, that�s all there is? That�s it?�
�That�s it, Danny. That�s me.�
He contemplated Casey for a few minutes, then shook his head. �You are a sad man, Casey McCall. A sad, sad man.�
�Because I�m the one sitting in a bar in the middle of the night waiting for some guy to tell me stories.�
�Yes. Wait�no. No, I mean�I forget what I mean. What did I mean, Case?�
Casey laughed, and Dan hadn�t realized how much he�d been waiting to hear it. �I�ll tell you, Dan, I haven�t the faintest idea.� The smile slowly dissolved, and Dan found himself missing it. �You should go home, get some sleep,� Casey told him.
�Not tired,� Dan mumbled, but even as he said it he could feel his eyelids drooping. �Whoa�how do you do that?� he asked Casey.
Casey glanced at him as he set some money on the counter. �Do what?�
�That�thing,� he said, waving his hands for emphasis. �I wasn�t tired, and then you�� he shrugged.
�Ok, home now,� Casey decided, standing. �Come on.� They made their way out to the street and stood there for a few moments in the cool air.
�You ok getting home by yourself?� Casey asked, and Dan smiled a little.
�Yes Mom.�
�I�m just saying��
�I�m fine. I�m a surprisingly big boy, Case. I can even hail a cab all by myself. Wanna see?�
�See, now, I know you�re mocking me.�
�I always knew you were a smart cookie,� Dan said, but then his smile faded a little and he changed tracks abruptly. �I don�t think I�m going home anyways.�
Casey turned to look at him. �Where�re you going?� he asked, perplexed.
�I think�I think I�m gonna go back.�
�Back�to the hospital?� Casey asked. �I don�t really think that�s the best idea right now, Danny. It�s late. We have a show to do tomorrow. You should go home and sleep.�
Dan snorted. �Sleep. Right.�
�Well rest anyways,� Casey amended.
�Look, Case, I left, ok?� He turned away, feeling a sudden sting in his eyes. �I just�I couldn�t handle it and I left. I can�t just�I can�t leave it like that. I mean, how do I look him in the eyes when�if he comes back? I was standing there, in that waiting room�that horrible clean pink waiting room, and I just couldn�t�� he shuddered, even just thinking of it. �I have to go back, Casey. I�I can�t just go home and pretend that I�� he paused as a tear rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it furiously away. �Look, I just have to go back.�
�You want me to come with you?�
He blinked. It wasn�t the response he had expected. �Yeah I�no.� He shook his head abruptly. �No, you should go home. Sleep. I mean, at least one of us should be on our game tomorrow, right?�
�I didn�t ask what I should do, Danny. I asked if you wanted me to come.�
�I�� he paused, then nodded slowly. �Yes. Yeah. I�do. Is that�?� but Casey was already raising his arm to call a cab.
He woke the next morning curled uncomfortably in a green plastic chair, his head slumped against Casey�s shoulder. The sun was streaming into his eyes through blinds that clacked noisily in the breeze, and his back felt like an army of small devils were assaulting it with pitchforks, but he knew that he had spent the night in the right place.
And when they heard the nurse say those two horrible words��No change,� he didn�t feel the need to hide his tears, because this time they were streaming down Casey�s face too.
Eventually their tears dried, and their cell phones started to ring, first one, then the other, and as the day moved inexorably on, they found themselves in the office, because, as hard as it was to believe, there was still a show to write.
That night, Dan sat alone in their office in the dark, because it had been a surprisingly good show, and he didn�t feel like getting the obligatory slaps on the back and �way to go, Dan�s. He heard Casey at the door, not because he made any noise, but because he was Casey, and he always knew when he was there.
�You�re still here.�
�Yeah,� Dan replied. �I was�� he gestured towards the window. �You know, we have a really great view.�
A tiny smirk appeared on Casey�s face. �I�ve noticed.� He slid down into the chair opposite Dan and admired the view with him for a while. �You know,� he said after a few minutes, �I lied last night.�
�About which part?�
�The stories. I have them. You�re right�everyone does. I just�I didn�t think they were interesting enough.�
Dan smiled. �Well of course, they�re not going to be as brilliant and witty as mine. But�� he grew serious. �They�re you, Case.�
�Yeah.�
�So�� Dan prompted, settling deeper into his chair. �Come on, then. Tell me a story.�
And, in the solitary darkness of their quiet office, he did.