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Nolan was not looking forward to this conversation, to say the least. During the long Uber ride from Manhattan to Queens, he braced himself for the worst he could imagine.
As a defense lawyer, he had been on the receiving end of a lot of verbal lashings from the victim or their families.
As a prosecutor, it had come from the defendant or their families, his former defense colleagues who viewed him as a traitor, the cops that investigated the case, etc.
But what had grabbed him about Lonnie Ballard was how the man was so willing to throw himself over First Harmony and Pastor Mike when it was so easy to see that they were responsible for his sister's death.
Nolan remembered how after Nick's fatal overdose, he had done some research into the mindset of addicts, and found that when they would try to wean themselves off of their original addiction, they would take up another habit to deal with their cravings. Most of the time, it was something like cigarettes or coffee.
But whenever Nick had sobered up, he would throw himself into his work. Sure, he had loved what he did for a living, but it got to the point where his whole world revolved around his work instead of the oxycodone.
For Lonnie, First Harmony had been his savior and, to Pastor Mike's credit-- for all of the shitty and shady things that he did, supposedly in the name of the Lord-- the man was able to help Lonnie detox and get clean.
And, of course, Lonnie had been grateful.
But, over time, his devotion and gratefulness to First Harmony had just turned into another addiction.
It had left him nearly destitute, it had started to ruin his personal relationships...
Nolan shook his head as if he were trying to physically remove those thoughts from his head. Luckily, his research had proven fruitful; he had been able to find a doctor that specialized in addiction medicine at Mercy Hospital's free clinic, and written down her number for Lonnie to call if he ever needed.
He knocked on the glass door to Lonnie's apartment.
No response.
"Lonnie?" Nolan called, knocking again. "It's Nolan Price from the DA's office.
Still no answer.
Nolan held back a frustrated sigh as he knocked again. "Hello, Lonnie?"
He peered through the glass into the almost darkened apartment. He was able to make out a shape that looked like...
With dread coiling in the pit of his stomach, Nolan looked through the other glass panel in the door to see if he could better a better look. He began to attempt to open the door, which turned out to be unlocked, and walked inside the apartment.
As he entered the main living area, he saw Lonnie Ballard lying on his back, jerking in small convulsions as his wide eyes stared at the ceiling. A yellow tourinquet was tied tightly above his elbow, with a needle and spoon and other paraphernalia discarded to the man's left.
"Oh, no, Lonnie? Lonnie?!"
Nolan rushed to Lonnie's side, kneeling down as he tried to get a response from the man.
"Lonnie... Lonnie? Lonnie? Lonnie?"
Nothing.
"Oh, God..." he mumbled, his heart beating so fast that it would probably break the sound barrier.
Even as his hands were beginning to tremble, Nolan retrieved his phone from his coat pocket. Keeping his free hand to check Lonnie's pulse, he pressed the emergency call icon that would connect him to 911.
"Yeah, I-- I need an ambulance," he stuttered, struggling to keep his voice even when the operator asked for the address. "435 Warshaw, Queens. Apartment 4B. He's overdosed. I need help right away."
Nolan placed his phone on the floor and positioned his hands on Lonnie's chest, beginning compressions. "Lonnie? Lonnie, stay with me."
~oOoOo~
Sam had turned off her hair dryer just as her phone began to ring. She picked it up from off of the little table she had in her bathroom, seeing Nolan's name on the caller ID, and answered it. Before she could even say a word, she heard heavy breaths on the other line... as if he was having trouble breathing.
"Sam..." his voice broke as he said her name.
Her mind's eye took her back to the day that she had rushed to his side at the Canal Street station, cursing out Cosgrove so he would let her pass the perimeter to comfort him.
"Nolan, what's wrong?" she asked.
"Lonnie-- I went-- I went-- his apartment--"
"Nolan, take deep breaths," she instructed. "Deep breaths-- four, seven, eight. Four, seven, eight."
She could hear his breathing slowing down to a normal rate, and she assumed that he was following her instructions. The breaths were still a little shaky, but he was able to talk clearly again.
"Lonnie relapsed... and overdosed."
Sam's stomach dropped.
"I-- I tried to revive him-- but-- the EMTs-- and when--"
Sam swallowed the bile rising up her throat, ignoring the hairline fracture forming in her heart for him. "Nolan, where are you now?"
"Mercy Hospital-- the-- the waiting room in the ICU."
"I'm coming," she told him. "Stay right there."
~oOoOo~
Sam ran through the doors to the ICU waiting room as if she were running the New York marathon, and was able to easy spot Nolan from where he was standing. He was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair until they fell out in the cascading curls that she saw rarely.
"Nolan," she called his name.
Nolan lifted his head upon hearing her voice and turned to look at her. His eyes were rimmed red from crying, but they seemed to light up a little. She rushed over to him, taking him into her embrace. He buried his face into her hair, new tears beginning to get it wet, as she rubbed his back.
"How is he?" she asked when they broke the embrace.
"He-- he's brain dead," he told her with a cracking voice. "They're trying to find his next of kin, but he-- he grew up in the system, and he was never adopted by any of the families that took him in-- Oh, God..."
"What?" Sam asked.
Before Nolan could respond to her, the air began to grow thick around them. His chest tightened up around his heart, yet it continued to beat so quickly, and his stomach was roiling violently.
His ears were ringing, yet he was still able to hear that phone call from Alyson as if it had happened today.
"He-- he's in the shower-- I can't wake him up!"
It wasn't Sam that he felt in his arms-- it was Alyson as she cried into his chest after the doctors had told them that they couldn't save Nick.
But Nick's death was accidental... Lonnie had...
He had driven this man to...
"Nolan? Nolan... Nolan!"
Sam?
"Look at my hand," Sam held up her hand, displaying all five fingers as she had when she was helping him come down from a panic attack after the shooting.
He moved his pointer finger over all five of her fingers, already feeling his breathing begin to even out, though he still had no control over his tears.
"Let's sit down," she suggested, leading him over to the chairs.
They sat down, not looking at anything in particular. They didn't even pay attention to the TV, which was stuck on AMC as it played Groundhog Day. Not like they could hear it, as it was on mute with closed captions.
Without even realizing, their hands intertwined.
By the time that Phil and Rita were cuddling in bed as he read to her, a doctor walked over to them.
"Are you the man that was with Lonnie Ballard when he was brought in?" she asked Nolan.
"Yeah," he answered as he stood up. "Do... do you need me to sign any forms?"
"You don't have to," she said. "I'm sorry, but-- as we were about to come ask you, Lonnie flatlined."
Nolan's ears began to ring, and he would have thought he was numb to the touch if Sam hadn't placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We tried to revive him, but... I'm so sorry, Mr. Price."
Nolan struggled to find his voice. "What... what happens to him now? His... his body?"
"Well, we still couldn't find any next of kin," the doctor told him. "As far as you've told us, the closest we could find was his foster sister, and I understand that she's recently deceased?"
"Yes," Nolan rasped out. "I... I can handle the funeral. He-- he deserves it."
The doctor nodded. "Okay. You'll just have to sign some forms... I'll have a nurse bring them to you."
After the doctor left, Nolan turned around to face Sam. Tears were falling down his face.
"You're doing a good thing, Nolan," Sam told him.
Nolan shook his head. "No. No, I'm not."
He closed his eyes, not even realizing that he was beginning to collapse into her arms as he finally began to truly sob.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Nolan, it's not your fault," she told him. "None of this was your fault."
His ragged breaths filled her ears for less than half a minute before he spoke up again.
"I miss Nick."
She nodded. "I know. I know."