Rated: R

Rollie Tyler was incredibly tired, so tired even the director, Quinn Jameson noticed. Tired enough that the director handed the special effects expert the fresh cup of coffee his personal assistant had just delivered. "Here Rollie. You look like you need this more than I do." He didn't notice his assistant's lips thin as he held the coffee in front of Rollie.

The Aussie stared at the cup and blinked a few times, it finally seeped into his mind just what was in front of him. "Thanks," he replied absentmindedly as he accepted the cup.

Quinn doubted the man even knew who had given him the coffee. He glanced around for the other part of Tyler FX, Angie Ramirez. Finally spotting her outside, over by the large, rather unique van they used, he made his way to her side. "Angie?"

The blonde looked up and pushed her hair from her eyes. She gave a tiny mental gulp as she realized the director was talking to her. Scrambling to her feet, she greeted him as brightly as she could. "Um, hi Mister Jameson." Quinn Jameson was known as a hard task master and a brilliant director. Mind, Jameson didn't look like much of anything. He was average, so average few media people recognized him unless he was actually introduced. Average height, average weight, light brown hair, gray eyes. Nothing special to look at, but inside his mind was astonishing. He frequently got so wrapped up in the creative process he forgot people were involved. When he finally remembered, he usually ended up apologizing. The apologies (frequently accompanied by hefty bonuses) didn't stop some people from vowing they'd never work for him again. A few of those people returned after a long vacation, willing to work with the genius again. A few didn't.

"Angie, is Rollie okay? He seems kind of out of it." The man shrugged expressively and nodded toward the lanky SPFX man.

Angie blinked in surprise, then turned to look at her boss and partner. She knew Rollie was tired and was getting less sleep than normal. So was she. But, if Rollie was so tired that Jameson had noticed! This was not good, not good at all. "Well, we were up kind of late, last night," Angie sneaked a glance at the director, "working on those changes for today and tomorrow." Of course, at around two in the morning, Rollie had sent her home. She had no idea when he finished or when he went to bed or even if he went to bed. She just knew when she got to the studio this morning (Six came so early!), the work was done.

Jameson nodded, observing his chief special effects expert. The man was setting each of the smoke charges meticulously in place, laying out the pattern that he'd been given yesterday. As near as he could tell, everything was going well, each placement was perfect and yet the aura of exhaustion around Rollie Tyler was so thick it felt like he could touch it. Mentally, Jameson went over the special effects used so far and the changes made in the process of making his film. He winced as he finally realized the amount of last minute changes he demanded the tiny, independent special effects firm make. He knew of bigger firms with more people who would have balked at the volume of work he had created. Rollie had just sighed, rolled his eyes at Angie (when he thought he wasn't being watched) and got down to business. Quinn Jameson closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. "I've been pushing you, haven't I?"

"Well, yeah, kind of." The special effects expert looked up into Jameson's face, trying to read his expression. Talk about poker faces...

"Sorry, sometimes I forget to think." The director mentally reviewed the schedule. "I'll try and arrange a couple of days off soon and to get these last minute changes under control." He looked into tired blue eyes and finished earnestly. "I really don't mean to be a beast. I'll try to end the day early so Rollie and you can get some extra sleep."

Angie felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled gratefully. "I appreciate it, Mister Jameson. So will Rollie. Sometimes, he has a hard time saying 'no' to people."

Quinn returned the smile and relaxed. "I'll try to remember that and not take advantage of it, Angie." Angie nodded and Jameson moved on, anxious to get as much done as possible and still keep his promise.

Two hours later, duties finally done for the day, Angie noticed Rollie didn't just look exhausted, but angry as well. She tried to recall anything that would have set off the Australian's temper. Especially, since he seemed to be climbing toward a level he seldom reached. She cautiously approached, wanting to know what was wrong, but not wanting to face the fall-out. "Rollie?"

"What?" Rollie growled.

"Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?" The Australian mimicked. "No, why would something be wrong, you lazy sheila! Didn't see you helping me finish up all this, last night or should I say this morning..."

Angie paled under Rollie's onslaught. What?!? The words spilled over her, unheard. Too late, she realized his fury had reached an apex and his hand flashed out, hitting her hard with his open palm. She rocked back in pain and shock. Her mind flashed back to the only time "Rollie" had ever hit her... Loubar! For a moment, past and present fought for her attention. Too late, she saw Rollie Tyler storm off, out of the studio and climb into the van. It started and he pulled away, leaving her stunned in the wake of his furor.

"Angie?!?" Jameson rushed to her side, shocked by what he just witnessed. Nothing he had heard about Rollie Tyler or Tyler FX indicated this type of problem lurked within the company. "Are you all right?" He tried to turn her face to him so he could examine the hand print on her face. Others in the crew still there surged up, then stopped, daunted by the presence of the director, not really believing what they had all just witnessed.

"What?" Angie's eyes were fastened on the road, where the FX van had vanished. Her thoughts whirling, she tried to reconcile what had happened with things she knew. She knew Rollie would never hit her. She knew the only time he had, it was Loubar, not Rollie, and yet... Something wasn't right, something was wrong, different from that time. Frantic, she turned to Quinn Jameson and batted his hand away from her face. "Let me use your cell phone."

"Angie? What?" Startled by the command, Jameson fumbled his phone out, only to have it snatched from his hand. "Who are you calling? I hope its the police to arrest ..."

The blonde ignored him, quickly punching a familiar number. "Mira, Angie. -- No, listen, this is important. Something is wrong with Rollie. -- What?  -- He hit me! -- Yeah, yeah, I know! -- No, I don't think so. -- Listen, damn it! Rollie's eyes! They're wrong, he had this really wild look in them. -- No! He took off before I realized it. We've got to find him, Mira! Before... before something happens."  She agreed to wait for Mira there, even though part of her screamed to follow her friend. Something was seriously wrong and it was only going to get worse, she could feel it.

"You think something's wrong with Rollie." Jameson made it a statement, not a question. He frowned as she nodded, the worry clear in her eyes. "What?" He thought about it. "You've been working too hard. So's he. Maybe he's having a break-down?" There was guilt in his eyes when he said it. If Rollie Tyler was having a nervous collapse, it was, at least partially, his fault.

"I don't know." Angie wrapped her arms around, feeling cold, even though it was warm in the building where they waited for Mira. "I just don't know." She started pacing back and forth, needing to move, needing to do something. Where was Mira? Why didn't she get here? She wanted, needed desperately, to find Rollie before something serious happened to him.

Jameson watched her moving in front of him, unable to think of anything to say. Tyler was frequently declared a genius. For that matter, so was he. Growing up, one of his parents' biggest fears - one of his biggest fears - was that his genius would drift into madness. Every one seemed to think it went hand in hand with genius. That the line between brilliance and insanity was so thin... Had that happened to Rollie Tyler? Had he suddenly, inexplicably, gone mad?
 

Angie ran outside the moment Mira pulled up, not pausing to think. "Let's go! We've got to find, Rollie!" She felt like crying and turned anxious, worried eyes on the Latino cop.

"Whoa. Slow down a minute, Angie. Go where?" Mira asked her scared friend. Mind, she felt it too. A deep fear about whatever was wrong with Rollie Tyler. If it had been Loubar, he was in deadly danger. But no, Angie seemed certain it was Rollie that had hit her. That something was wrong with him. Seriously wrong for him to hit Angie Ramirez! The Australian would sooner cut off his hands than hit his partner.

Angie took a deep breath, striving for a calm she didn't, couldn't, feel. She pressed her face into her hands and thought. "The loft. He'll go back to the loft."

"Good a place to start as any," Mira answered and backed up the car. Pulling into traffic, she made her way toward 256 Brewery Lane. The New York detective drove steadily, expertly working her way through the city traffic.

Angie tried to sit still, to be calm, but her worry for Rollie kept slicing through any thread she found. It didn't make sense! Why? Why had Rollie been so angry? Yes, he was tired. They both were. Why had he reacted in that particular way? Was it the work? The exhaustion finally eating through the Australian's reserves? Or was it something else? Maybe he was sick? She tried to think of an illness that would lead to anger... Mental illness didn't even occur to the blonde special effects expert. Rollie was perhaps the strongest, most stable person she knew. In a business rife with burnouts, mental collapses and aberrations, Rollie Tyler was as solid... as solid as a mountain. As the earth itself. Sure, he got angry sometimes, but he never stayed that way unless it was called for. He stayed mad at criminals. At dishonest people who tried to cheat him or his friends. He stayed mad at people who hurt her or any of his friends or others. But never ever had he shown that temper to her. They'd had their share of fights, but never physical and never lasting. So why? Why had this time been different? "Mira?" Angie turned anxious blue eyes on the Hispanic woman. "Can't we get there any faster?"

"I'm going as fast as I can, Angie." Mira responded with just a touch of exasperation. What did Angie expect? Mario Andretti? Rollie Tyler? She wasn't a race car driver or a stunt driver. She did well in a car chase, but this wasn't that and she wasn't about to turn it into one. They would be there soon. The brunette took a deep breath, calming herself. Angie was worried. She had every right to be worried. She didn't mean anything by that. Besides, Angie'd had enough fights for the day.

Mira braked her car to a halt and Angie leapt from the passenger seat as if catapulted. "Wait!" Mira called after her, then cursed under her breath when the blonde ignored her, rushing inside. Not smart, if something was wrong with Rollie. Not smart at all. She ripped off her seat belt and hurried after the other woman. She got there just in time to hear Angie cry out in horror. The detective reached forward to grab her arm, just missing her, as she ran to Rollie's side. Rollie... He was crumpled on the floor at the foot of the stairs. If he'd fallen down them... Mira swallowed and hurried to drop to her knees on the other side of the man.

Angie reached out to touch him, then pulled back, terrified she would hurt him more. "Mira!" Her voice was full of anguish and worry.

"Easy, Angie. Easy." Mira gently reached out and touched the pulse point in Rollie's neck. There, beating too rapidly as if his heart would pound its way out of his chest, Rollie was alive. "Call 911. Get an ambulance. Now! Move it!" Carefully, she touched him, trying to find any injuries. But the limbs, twisted awkwardly though they were, appeared unbroken. Running gentle fingers through his thick, wavy brown hair, she didn't find any lumps or indications of a head injury. She touched an eyelid and peeled it back and gasped. His eyes were fully dilated, glazed and unfocused. There was a look she'd only seen in addicts under the strongest of drugs, that was the look in Rollie's eyes. But Rollie didn't do drugs. Everything about the man indicated a total aversion to them. But here was evidence that he'd taken something... Something strong... Something that altered the personality if he would hit Angie. She thought about the past couple of weeks, about how tired Rollie and Angie had been. Had Rollie taken something to keep himself going? So he could function even on the brink of exhaustion? She found it hard to believe, but she'd seen it. Seen it in Narcs who busted the dealers and in Homicide Investigators who'd seen the results of drug usage, investigating the deaths. Why should Rollie Tyler be any better? Any less human than them? Everyone had their limits and their temptations. Maybe Rollie had finally found his. She closed in eyes and prayed they'd reached him in time. Her eyes flashed open and locked on to the young blonde speaking on the phone, her voice full of desperation. For Angie's sake as well as Rollie's. She hated telling her what she suspected, but knew it was best to come from her. Not to wait for the medical personnel to say it, couched in the cold words of their language. Angie Ramirez might never forgive what Mira Sanchez had to tell her about Rollie Tyler, but Mira had to be the one to do it. For the sakes of the friendships they had formed.
 

Angie wrung her hands anxiously as she watched the EMTs tend Rollie. Their words flowed over and around her, unheard, her eyes focused on the slack face of her best friend and partner. What? What had happened? Why had it happened? She waited for someone to tell her it would be all right. That Rollie would be all right. Vaguely, she noticed Mira leave the medics and come to her side. She started when a gentle, concerned hand touched her shoulder. Angie turned to look at Mira Sanchez with wide, frightened blue eyes. Mutely, she asked for reassurance. The look on Mira's face didn't offer it though. "Mira?" Angie asked, hesistant and frightened. What was wrong? Why was Mira looking at her like that? "Rollie will be all right." She said it stoicly, trying to make the words true. Trying to keep the fear from her voice. Trying to make things right again.

Mira closed her eyes for a moment, hating what she had to say. She opened them and her dark eyes locked with Angie's blue ones. "Angie. Rollie is sick. Very sick." She licked her lips. "He took something. Something, he shouldn't have."

Angie frowned in bewilderment. "What do you mean took something?" She looked back at where the medics were settling Rollie on a gurney. "Mira?"

Mira sighed sadly. "He took something, a drug..."

Angie jerked away as if slapped. "No. Mira, no! Rollie wouldn't." Her eyes flashed fire. "Rollie doesn't do drugs. He doesn't! Rollie Tyler would never, ever take an illegal drug and you should know better."

Mira shook her head, her eyes full of sadness. She'd heard it before, a hundred times before. The family always denying that their child, their husband, wife, father, mother, son, daughter would take drugs. It was so tragic and useless. They had and Rollie had. She'd seen it in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but denying it won't help him. Angie..."

"No!" Angie turned away in angry denial, her heart and head in turmoil. She hurried to the ambulance. The attendant in back helped her up.

Mira watched the doors close and the vehicle pull away, her heart aching. She shook her head and refocused her thoughts. Automatically pulling out her cell phone, she called the precinct and reported to her captain. She heard and didn't hear Van Duran's words as he expressed his shock and dismay. Acknowledging his orders to stay on top of the situation and find out if what Tyler had taken was illegal or simply misused. Without really thinking about it, still stunned by the discovery, she got into her car and headed for the hospital. Answers. They all needed answers. Vaguely, she wondered what she was going to tell Francis and how he was going to take it. She hoped it was better than Angie. The denial was understandable. It just wasn't going to help anything.

Still on autopilot, Sanchez strode into the emergency room, trying to be the brisk, efficient detective she was suppose to be. A couple of quick questions at the front desk and she found Angie in a waiting room off to the side. She watched with a thoughtful frown as her friend sat in the stiff, plastic chair, huddled in on herself, arms wrapped tightly around her body, waiting. Waiting for answers. Answers she won't want to hear, Mira thought to herself. She approached carefully, waiting for the blonde to rebuff her. What she got were wide blue eyes full of fear. "Oh Angie." She sank into the chair beside her and pulled her into a tight hug, trying to offer comfort. They would wait. Together.

An eternity later, a tired doctor stood before them. His brow was puckered in a frown and Mira wanted to arrest him for his harsh behavior.

"I don't understand how people can continuously do something like this to themselves." The doctor spoke, seemingly unaware of the effects of his words. "Like we don't have enough problems, they have to take drugs and mess themselves up and then we're suppose to fix them up and let them go out to do it all over again."

Mira felt Angie's stiff body beside her and imagined her hands around the good doctor's throat. She made a mental note of the name on the tag - Lascoe. Unusual enough name. It would be easy to remember. Maybe he should get a few traffic tickets. She focused on his words again, tightening her arm around Angie's shoulders.

"You can see him in a bit. A nurse will come by to get you. Why you want to, I don't know. It will be at least five hours before Mister Tyler knows you're there."

Oh yes, I just bet you don't know, do you? Are you even human enough to have a family? Mira tried to reign in the nasty thoughts about the nasty doctor. Angie needed her. Rollie needed her. She didn't have time to worry about doctors who'd forgotten how to be human. "Angie?" She watched him walk off in relief. He'd already forgotten them, his mind moving on to the next patient. The next case. How did Angie feel hearing this damn man confirm Mira's words?

"Mira." Angie whispered her name so softly. "Rollie wouldn't take drugs." She looked at the other woman, her eyes full of appeal. Pleading for Mira to agree.

Mira looked down, then back up. She took the younger woman's shoulders in her hands. "Angie, everyone has their limits. Everyone. Including Rollie. He's human just like the rest of us. He makes mistakes and the wrong choices too sometimes."

"Not this mistake. Not this choice." Angie spoke with a sense of conviction that was absolute.

"I know you don't want to believe Rollie would--would do this, but the evidence is clear."

"The evidence is wrong!"

For a moment, Mira thought Angie would pull away from her. Perhaps even slap her and run away. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't, then froze when those clear blue eyes locked with hers. The conviction burning bright within their depths.

"Maybe somebody slipped it to him. Did you ever think of that, Ms. Detective?" Angie asked, her voice cool. She stood up and followed the nurse that had appeared at that moment to take them to Rollie.

Mira stared after Angie Ramirez, stunned. Slipped it to him? Slipped? Oh! Why hadn't she thought of that? Why hadn't she at least considered the possibility? It wouldn't be the first time someone slipped somebody else something. Why had she assumed Rollie, of all people, had taken it voluntarily? She felt her face burn with shame. Mira turned to find the doctor. She needed to what was influencing Rollie, if she was going to find out where it came from. She just prayed that Angie's faith wasn't unfounded. That Rollie had indeed not taken the drug or drugs. If he hadn't, she owed Rollie Tyler and Angie Ramirez a huge apology. She hoped she did and that Rollie would still be there to receive it.

Mira confronted Doctor Lascoe, demanding answers to her questions. The man waved her away, but when she wouldn't go, turned to a nearby nurse. "Get Detective Sanchez," he made her name sound like a curse, "a copy of Tyler's blood work." He totally ignored the fact he was violating his oath as a doctor. But then, Mira reflected, he probably didn't remember ever taking an oath and, considering the way he acted, maybe he hadn't. The detective grimaced to herself as she read the chemical analysis of the drugs, mentally converting the chemical signs to their street names. Rollie certainly had received a horrific mixture. Thinking about it, she realized no one would delibrately take such a combination, at least no one in their right mind. As if drug users were in the their right minds.

"What have we got?" Francis Gatti asked as he hurried up to her.

There was a look in his eyes that Mira didn't like seeing directed toward her. He looked--disappointed and hurt.

"All right, spit it out, Frank!" Mira heaved a mental sigh and waited as patiently as she could for what was coming.

Frank looked her up and down and shook his head. "Mira, how could you tell the captain that Rollie OD-ed himself on something? Rollie Tyler. Would. NOT. Do. Drugs."

Okay, she guess she deserved that, but hadn't she come around already? Maybe it was a good thing that circumstances had removed her from the ranks of the I.A. department. Obviously, she had lost too much of her faith in people if she couldn't read a friend properly. As if officers in I.A. had any friends! Frank and Angie were smart, too smart to hide their heads in the sand, too smart to deny the truth. So, they were right and she was wrong for a change. She was a big girl, she could admit it. "You're right, Frank."

Frank Gatti gaped at Mira Sanchez in surprise. Okay, who was this person and what had they done with his hardheaded partner? He had fully expected an argument. So what happened? Still. "Damn straight!"

Mira hid a smirk before it could escape to her lips. Did Francis know he was picking up Rollie's slang? Probably not and they had more important things to worry about at the moment. They couldn't help Rollie with his recovery, but they sure could find the person or persons who drugged him! "According to the lab results, the last thing Rollie ingested was coffee. Come on, let's see if Angie can tell us where he got it from."

"Gotcha," Frank answered as they hustled over to the elevators. When they entered Rollie's room, he immediately took in his tall friend's form in the only occupied bed. He frowned as he took in his paleness, the minute tremors running through the long frame, punctuated by occasional jerks which only served to emphasize the need for the retraints holding Rollie in place. Without them, the IVs in his arms would have already been pulled out. He sighed sadly and shook his head. "How you doing, Angie?"

Angie managed a small smile and rubbed her arms. "All right, Frankie. I'm hanging in there." She pointedly ignored Mira, not feeling like arguing with the other woman at the moment and certainly not doing it here where Rollie might hear them and remember and know.

Francis Gatti patted the blonde's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Rollie will be all right and we're going to find the S.O.B.s who did this to him. Count on it!" He smiled slightly and nodded firmly once, indicating his confidence in their doing just that.

"Angie, according to the lab results the last thing Rollie had was a cup of coffee. Do you know where he got it?" Mira asked quietly.

"Huh? Coffee?" Angie's blue eyes locked with Mira's dark brown ones. They searched for something, seeming to read the answer she wanted, she responded. "I think Mister Jameson gave Rollie a cup of coffee around ten. But..." Her brows lowered as she tried to remember. "Didn't Rollie eat lunch?"

"Nothing to indicate a lunch," Mira told her. "Who is this Jameson? How well do you and Rollie know him?"

Thinking about it, she hadn't seen Rollie at the concessions when they'd finally broke for lunch. He had sent her ahead saying he would get something in a bit. Which probably meant Rollie had worked through it without letting her know. Which meant that those drugs, whatever they were, had been working on him through an empty stomach. She shivered. "Quinn Jameson, he's the director of the movie we're working on right now."

"Quinn Jameson? The Quinn Jameson? You're working on a movie for Quinn Jameson?!?" When Angie nodded, Francis whispered a soft "wow". His awe turned into a frown. "Why would Quinn Jameson want to drug Rollie?"

Angie frowned at that. "He wouldn't. Mister Jameson can be a real slave driver sometimes, but he wouldn't have any reason to drug Rollie. If Rollie can't work, it slows down the whole picture. He wouldn't want that."

"Yeah, but you said he gave Rollie a cup of coffee. That's the only way he could have been slipped those drugs."

"No, there has to be something missing," Angie answered, puzzled.

"Maybe, maybe not. Where do we find Mister Quinn Jameson?" Mira asked, determination flashing in the depths of her eyes..