Emery looked at him as if he were a particularly dense child. "I'm sorry to shatter your linear worldview, but you're mistaking money for power. While I found I was particularly good at accumulating the first, I never had any interest, inclination, or even the ability to gather the latter."

He coughed again, shoulders shaking and face paling. It took him a moment to be able to continue. "My clients were regular people, with regular incomes; I may actually have made some enemies along the way by refusing to work with bigger fish."

"Can I ask why you wouldn't work with them?"

"Because I was the company. Every decision was ultimately run by me, and there are only so many hours in the day. I started trading because I knew I'd be good at it, and because I knew we'd need more money for Emma's care than we had; I used to like to think I was helping other Emmas with the way I ran the company."

He lifted his hand up to his face, before remembering he had no beard to pull on and letting it drop. "And then Emma was gone and I went from being a control freak to dropping everything and relying on Roger to maintain course. I lost people their lives' savings the minute my motivation for growing my own capital ceased to exist."

He tried to breathe deeply and only succeeded in another round of helpless coughing. Josh got up and busied himself with returning the milk to the fridge and putting the cereal back under the counter, to have something to do that wasn't staring at Emery while he was like that. When he rose from his crouched position the other man continued.

"I'm sorry I can't help you — I can recommend a few people to work with if you're looking to invest. Best not to use just one — you never know where the next Roger is working. Please write the names down; I can't do it without my glasses."

Josh smacked his hand down on the counter, frustrated that he didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "Damn it, Emery, look at me! Do you really think I care about investing? About making more money than I'd know how to spend?"

"I don't understand. You said—"

"I said whatever I thought would convince you not to leave when you've nowhere to go!"

Emery looked suddenly raw and vulnerable, that weary resignation fleeing his eyes to give way to something fragile Josh couldn't quite name. "So that isn't why you went searching for me last night?"

"Of course it isn't. You're always so eager to think the worst of me."

"I'm no— apologies. I most likely am. If it's any consolation, your worst is considerably better than most people's best at any rate. I know I hurt you back then, I know—"

"We're not discussing that," he said firmly, ignoring the jolt of pleasure he got from the unexpected compliment.

"Very well; there's no point in discussing the past. Thank you, Josh. For last night."

"You can thank me by coming to the hospital with me."

Emery shook his head, gently dropping the spoon on his mostly-full bowl. "I'm done being a burden on you."

"Okay. Then come to the bank with me and open an account so I can transfer what's left of Emma's money to you. Like I said, I still have most of it."

"That's completely out of the question."

"Didn't you hear what I said? That was why Emma kept her money separate—"

"Regardless, what she feared didn't come to pass in her lifetime. She left that money to you, and—"

On some level, Josh had always known it would come to this — that Emery wouldn't do what was best for him without driving Josh to use underhanded, hurtful tactics — but a part of him had clung to that naive hope regardless. A quick glance at his microwave's digital clock confirmed they had to be on their way soon if they were to be at the hospital on time, and Emery was still in a bathrobe, without as much as a pair of shoes that weren't too big. The time for coddling was over.

"Shut up and listen. When I tried not to accept that money, you called me into your office and told me you'd be damned if you'd allow me to disrespect her wishes. I thought at the time it was because you didn't want them disrespected. Silly me, it turns out it was because you wanted the monopoly on disrespecting them."

"I never—"

"Shut up. I'm not done. I have money. I have an extra bedroom. I have very little patience and the ability to be as stubborn as you are. Your choice: take the money and walk away, or stay and let me help you get back on your feet, no matter how long it takes. Or reject both of those options, spit right in the face of what your dead sister would have wanted, and watch me follow you around wherever you go as you try and get yourself killed as unassumingly as possible — I have a tent somewhere; I can join the 'homeless by choice' club. She didn't have a choice when it came to dying. You do. What will it be?"

Emery's eyes were a play of conflicting emotions. Josh mentally cursed the other man for driving him to be this cruel. "You can't just think I'll—"

"What. Will. It. Be?"

"Josh, please. There's nothing for me anymore. Nothing I want, nothing to strive for, no one to miss me. I've made my peace with that; being on the streets or not, it makes no difference. There's nothing I want. Please don't make me choose between taking your money or becoming a burden on you — I've ruined enough lives."

Josh leaned forward across the counter, eyes blinking rapidly at such a devastating confession. He placed his hand on Emery's forearm and didn't miss the slight hitch in his breathing. There were things Emery wanted — a purpose to his life, the ability to rebuild, companionship, affection, someone to miss him —; he just hadn't realized he wanted them yet. After their shared past, Josh would never allow that someone to be him, but he'd be damned if he didn't help him get to that point. His voice was soft now, pleading.

"Then don't ruin mine by forcing me to wonder if you're dead or alive somewhere every day. Let me help you get back on your feet. You're not a burden."

Emery made an aborted gesture with his hand as he squinted, probably trying to discern Josh's expression; just as the previous night, Josh could have sworn the other man had been on the verge of touching him before he thought it through.

"You're a good man, Josh. You always were. I'm sorry for how I hurt you."

"I told you, we're not discussing that. What will it be?"

"I'm not insured—"

"Don't care," Josh interrupted before Emery could launch himself on another money-related speech. "If it turns out to be nothing it won't cost that much, and if it's something bad you're still technically homeless. I'm sure Mark will know what forms you have to fill for them to waive the fees."

Emery's eyebrows rose in a question. "Mark?"

"My best friend. He's a doctor there."

The other man was silent for a moment, lost in thought. "I'll go with you to the hospital if that's what you require to feel at peace. Don't ask me to take your money."

It was good enough for Josh.