If he had listened to his mother and used his God-given talents in another capacity, he wouldn't be sitting here now trying to fill an empty portion of his soul with Jack Daniels finest.

Ezra tipped the bottle back, letting the last of the whiskey scorch a path from his mouth to his stomach. If all went well, J.D would be out of surgery by now.

He dropped the empty bottle and rose to his feet. The room slowly rotated to the left then at even slower rate back to the right. He was drunk but not drunk enough to forget the look of anguish and betrayal in Chris Larabee's eyes.

Carefully placing one foot in front of the other and using the dubious support of the condo's walls, he made his way to the master bathroom. Supporting himself with his arms, he leaned against the sink after he finished relieving his bladder of the whiskey he'd consumed into the commode and washing his hands. His first mistake had been to lose his heart to Chris Larabee; his second mistake was letting himself become part of Team Seven.

He raised his head and looked in the mirror. His cheek had already turned black from the punch Buck landed on his jaw. From the ache in his shoulders, he knew they were bruised from him crashing into the wall of the ER.

No one asked him what had happened. Everyone assumed he was responsible for JD getting shot. He didn't know what hurt the worse. The possibility of losing his closest friend on the team or Chris Larabee believing that he would willing endanger JD.

He pushed away from the sink. There were still several more bottles of whiskey, scotch, and brandy he hadn't touched in the liquor cabinet.

He staggered into the bedroom and over to the nightstand by his bed. With hands that shook from the effects of a half bottle of Jack Daniels, he picked up the framed photograph sitting there. The first time he went with the rest of the team fishing, JD had brought along his new camera and spent his time snapping pictures. The Saturday following their return from the trip JD surprised him with a visit. The younger man didn't say anything. He just handed him a package wrapped in red paper, smiled, then left.

The framed picture inside was of Chris and himself. They had been sitting on the front steps of the cabin the team had rented waiting for the sun to set. JD pointed his camera at them and ordered them to smile. Chris threw his arm across Ezra's shoulders and pulled him closer to his side. The camera had captured that as well as the love that shone in Ezra's eyes for Chris.

His hand tightened around the frame. With this one single gift, JD gained his trust.

He dropped the frame face down on the nightstand. He should call the hospital and find out JD's condition but he didn't want to risk speaking with Chris, afraid of what the whiskey would cause him to say.

Slowly he made his way back to the living room and the promise of a liquor-induced oblivion.