[IC] unnamed 1x1

[ClosetMonster]

It was a cold November morning. It was a week before Thanksgiving, and ever other shop window was filled with sale signs and Christmas decor. The sun was slowly coming up over the city, melting away the slushy snow that laid in clumps on the ground. The air was bitter cold, with a breeze coming off the bay making it worse. People that dared to venture out were covered head to toe in warm clothing. A couple occupied the park that sat across from the bay, throwing a Frisbee to their husky. The furry dog seemed to love the chilly morning air. He ran after his toy with eagerness to please.

The Frisbee landed in the wet grass next to a very strange man. He was laying on the ground, in nothing but a pair of boxers, barely conscious. He thought he was burning to death, his insides so hot they could boil, yet his skin was ice cold. The dog trotted over to retrieve his toy, then stopped to sniff the man. The owners quickly called him back, having just now noticed the stranger. They put their dog on a leash and quickly left, not even bothering to see if he was still alive. Perhaps because the man was huge. He had to have been near 7 feet tall, and his frame was muscular. He looked like a biracial mix between black and white, with a head of dreadlocks that had a couple leaves stuck in them. His body was riddled with scars and bruises, all in different stages of healing. His face was nice, but the rest of him was pretty intimidating.

~~
Garin tucked the hood of his jacket up against his cheek and kept up pace along the park way. His breath left white smoke with each hit of foot to the pavement. It was chilled outside and gorgeous, in only the way a very cold day could.

“.. but should we call 911?” a woman held to a dog's leash and looked over his shoulder as her companion drew her toward the path off of the grassed knoll.

“Probably not,” the man growled. “He looked strung out.”

“That doesn't mean that he doesn't need hel-” the woman's voice faded further on as Garin turned and stared at the grass and trees.

Well, nine one one was a bit of a red flag. He sniffed, wiped the back of his hand across the bottom of his chilled nose, then trotted up the grass. A bare shoulder and head came into view. Garin slowed, tilted his head as he came up on the man, shock growing.

Seriously? Naked as a jay bird. Well, not totally naked, but pretty damned close. With a frown, Garin went to the side of the man, eyes swept over the man's body to find that it was blue, chilled, which wasn't a shock. “Hey man,” he unzipped his jacket and tugged it off. “You okay?”

The man was quiet and Garin drew the jacket over the man's body. “Damn, you're cold as ice. How're you doing?” He reache down to touch the man's neck, finding a pulse and damp, as if the man had been sweating. He bent over the man, searched into the pockets for his cell to call for help, and gave the man a gentle shake. “C'mon, bud, eyes open.”

~~

A sudden, sharp breath came from the man. He opened his eyes just enough to see a blurry image of the person hovering over him. He could feel a jacket being wrapped around him, but he was so damn hot! He weakly pushed a hand against the man, too sick to even move him. He gave a soft groan and used great effort to roll onto his stomach, then to curl up with his knees tucked under him. Why couldn't he just die already? He felt as though he would any moment. He felt as though he'd been locked into a sauna turned on high for hours on end.

Sweat dripped across his skin, only making his outside colder. His lips were blue. When he heard the beeping of a cellphone dialing, he let out a soft, drawn out, "Nooo." He didn't want to be taken to a hospital. Too many questions would be asked, and he would surely be carted off to jail.

~~

And fairly delusional as well, from what he could tell. The man was quiet and looked in terrible shape. Garin dialed and when the other side picked up, talked quickly.

“Gotta situation. Park, near kiddie toys, come now. Seriously, forget the damned pizza. Some guy's here and needs some medical attention. You know where the clinic is, right? He's got like, no ID on him, are you coming?”

Without waiting for an answer, he closed the phone and leaned over the man, touching his brow and his sides. “No signs of injury. You are some kinda sick or … something, what the hell?” he frowned as he ran his hands down the man's legs, his arms, checked his neck. He had been a boy scout once. When he was sure nothing was broken that he could see, he carefully cradled the man's head and turned him on his side to look at his back.

“Hey,” a voice panted from behind him.

“Good. You bring the car up close?”

“Or you could call the ambulance?” the woman crouched down beside the man, dragged her own coat off and threw it over his legs. “What the hell?”

“Dunno. He's cold, sweating, and we gotta get him to someplace, you know what's wrong with him?” Garin frowned as he ran his hand down the man's back. “No broken bones, abdomen...” He turned his head to look at his friend. “His pulse seems fine, but he's blue as a smurf, Allie.”

“Pretty cold,” she said as she drew Garin's coat up and began to run her hands down the man's stomach. “I'm more concerned that he's naked and in the middle of the park. Is he a mental patient or coming off a bad trip?”

“He doesn't show signs of being hit or hurt at all. So that makes it hard to tell. You wanna help me? See if we can get him up?”

Allie pushed on the man's stomach and then pulled back. The guy was pretty much out of it and she sighed. “Yeah. I parked right across from the kiddie park. Park security should come by, I'm sure someone's seen him and called by now. We can drop by the clinic or by the hospital, your choice.”

“Let's get him inside first,” Garin grunted as he heaved an arm under the man's shoulders and pulled him up to a sitting position, then drew the man's arm around his neck. “Good Samaritan act, right? Dammit. This better not be some stupid frat kid prank gone wrong.”

Allie tucked in on the other side of the man and looked at his lean, scarred torso as she tied Garin's coat around the man's waist. “I don't think this guy's anything like frat.”

~~

The mysterious man put up a mild, weak struggle as they loaded him into a car. Getting him in was no meager feat; he was in no way small. His lack of compliance only made it more difficult. But once on a seat, he settled down and seemed to accept his fate; whatever it may be. He curled up as much as his position would allow. As the burn from steroid overdose slowly wore down, he realized that he was freezing cold. He was still too out of it to tell who he was with, but he assumed that they worked for his father. He always tried so hard to run away, but the man always found him.

The man trembled like a leaf, his hair soaked with melted snow, and his skin red on the side that had laid on the snowy ground. His lips slowly began to regain color in the warmth of the car. His hands and feet burned as feeling returned to them.
(needle marks on arm from repeated needle use)

~~

[ClosetMonster]

Between the pair of them, they managed to wrestle the man toward the car where they set him across the back. At first, Allie volunteered to sit in back with the man, but neither of them knew who the man was and it seemed less dangerous to have the larger of them there to subdue him if necessary.

Not that Garin would have managed to subdue the guy if he truly woke up. The fact was, their “find” was a good foot and a half taller than five and a half foot Allie, and seven inches or more taller than Garin, himself. He looked like a good looking, half dead version of Frankenstein's monster, truth be told.

As Allie pulled onto the highway, Garin ran his hands brusquely up and down the man's arms and began to rub his chest through the jacket which was far too small to really cover the poor guy up at all. Allie indicated that she kept a blanket in the carry-all behind her seat and while it proved to be nothing more than a small, well worn quilt, it was still something and Garin stuffed that around the guy's lower half. Hands and feet would be the least of their worries if he started to die on them.

“So tell me,” Allie murmured as she sped up and merged with traffic, “he got track marks on those pretty arms of his?”

“What?” Garin looked down. He'd been so caught up in getting the guy covered and getting him help that he hadn't stopped to look at his arms. “I'll look,” he breathed, reaching down and pulling at the jacket until he could see the guy's arms. His eyes widened. He wasn't fully aware of drug use signs, but what he'd taken at first as being just strange shadowing was indeed a series of scarred tissues and marks up along the inside of the man's elbow and along his arm. “Shit.”

“Thought I saw those,” Allie shrugged. “The fact is, he's strung out, in a park in nothing but his skivvies, and he's probably coming down from a bad trip. We can take him to the hospital and if he's on something hard, it's probably best we do because detox can kill a guy, no matter how strong he looks – or we can find out where he belongs, get him to one of his buddies, and let them dope him up again.”

“Hospital,” Garin said firmly.

“He won't thank you for that. The bills alone might knock him back a block or two and he's probably just waiting to get his next fix.” Allie glanced at him by way of her rearview mirror. “Garin, lovey, drug addicts aren't the kinds of guys you help like that. They don't really want help. They just want to be left alone. It's a form of suicide – getting away from the shit in their lives that make them not worth living. You do this, he's not going to thank you.”

“Hospital,” Garin frowned.

~~

The man didn't react much to anything said or done to him. He seemed to be in his own little world at this point. By the time they reached the hospital, he was warmed up enough to fight off hypothermia, but still acting strangely. Drugs could probably be blamed. He put up another, pitiful fight as he was taken into the ER. He didn't seem to mind the fact that he was making a fool of himself, while in his underwear, in front of everyone inside. He just wanted to get away.

The staff took him back fairly quick, if not just to get him out of their waiting room. It took several doctors to wrestle him into a bed as his struggling intensified. The man was clearly not happy to be in the hospital. They quickly strapped him down and sedated him before attempting to treat him. When he saw the needle coming at him, the man began to fuse and struggle more than ever. He managed to choke out a few threats at the nurse before she stuck him. A nurse insisted that Garin and Allie wait out in the waiting room while they ran tests. It was a couple hours before anyone got back to them.

A doctor came back with a clipboard full of notes and walked them into a more private room to discuss further action. "Well," He began. "We ran some tests; some of the results won't be in for a few days, but from what we've got so far, it seems that your friend is a long term methamphetamine and steroid abuser. It's not a pretty combination. Psychosis, aggression, liver damage, paranoia..." He looked down at his notes; the list of scary words seemed pretty lengthy. "A guy his size could be very dangerous while coming down off this stuff. He'll need to be kept here a while before the worst of it's over. Even then, once he's back out there, he'll probably go right back to it. Some of these addicts are in here so often, they're on a first name basis with the staff. He doesn't have any ID on him, I doubt he has insurance, he probably doesn't have money to pay for treatment, he's covered in scars, which tells me that he's probably a violent individual. It's not looking good. I hate to say it, but the best thing you could do for him is probably call the police and let them take him in. He'll get free healthcare, three meals a day, and he may learn a thing or two."

The doctor seemed to have thrown professionalism out the window. He'd seem far too many cases where drug addicts ran themselves into the ground and died, sometimes taking other people with them. He couldn't keep a clear conscience while he let the guy walk out the door, not without at least trying to talk sense into the ones who brought him in.

~~

With her arms around her hips, Allie sighed and glanced over toward her friend. “Thought as much. Have the police been called?”

Garin stood back up from where he'd sat in a chair. “Wait, you aren't going to treat him?” he asked, his mouth falling open. “You've admitted him!”

“Only preliminary measures have been taken,” the doctor frowned. “But without insurance, next of kin, or a police notification, I can't do more than give him a sedative and call him in. For right now, he's just another John Doe going through detox.” The doctor's eyebrows rose and he held out his hand. “It is unlikely anyone can afford to put him through rapid detoxification considering the cocktail he's been taking and the withdrawal, while unpleasant, is more for the meth than the steroids and therefore, not completely lethal. But the state does not, at least, not until the new health care laws are in effect, take on withdrawal and drug abuse without a larger diagnosis. He's more likely to hurt someone and get himself thrown into a cell to go through withdrawals than he is to die from what is going to happen to him.”

Garin lifted his hands in the air at them both. “So we call the cops and he goes through all this shit in a cell?” One hand came up, palm out in denial even as Allie stepped in to grab his elbow. “No,” he shook his head. “No. That's mean!” It sounded petulant, almost childish to say it aloud, and yet he hadn't any other way of describing it.

“It's that or call his buddies and he doesn't even have a cell on him, Garin,” Allie tried to reason.

“Or,” the doctor looked at Garin carefully, “someone who knows him and loves him can take him home, wring him out, and have a long, hard conversation about staying off this shit forever. I know you say you just found him and that's all fine and dandy. I'm not about to implicate anyone here. He's obviously pretty far into this and has been for a long time. But it's also fairly obvious he hasn't had much care and sometimes, I've seen folks come through after someone kind reached out a hand to help when they really needed it.”

Allie clung to Garin's elbow and took her turn at staring at the doctor in outrage. “That is bullshit,” she snapped. “The last thing any drug abuser needs is some co-dependent fuck to take them on. Garin, this guy, he isn't your family. He's some stranger who is probably crazy as well as coming down. He was naked. In the cold. And high. In the middle of a park. You do not take something like that on. He isn't a project. He's a drug abuser – Listen to me!” She got between the two men and grabbed her friend's arms, shaking him slightly. “I've lived with the drugs, I've seen the shit it does to people. You do not take this on because next thing you know, it'll suck you in and once you grab on, you won't let go until, even though you don't know a thing about him, he's taken everything from you. I love you and I am saying no. Do you hear me? No.”

Garin swayed under Allie's gaze. He knew the stories she had lived through. They were close friends and with a bit of alcohol and a bad boyfriend or two, they'd both spilled enough pain to one another to get it. She had lost two siblings and a father to drugs (lost, she called it, even though they were still alive, if not well, in Florida) and he had lost a mother to suicide. He had a penchant for taking in lost cases and it was never good. He knew her reasons, could see how serious she was, but the doctor's tiny branch of hope that a bit of kindness might save the day was his weakness. If only someone had reached out to his mother, maybe he wouldn't have had to find her body. If only he could save one more person, maybe he could save her too.

They both knew the messed up reasons they had for doing things and they supported one another as best they could. It wasn't as if Allie would walk out on him for it, but the pain was clear in her eyes and the stone hard resolve just as obvious. Still, Garin's shoulders slumped and he looked away from her in shame as he muttered, “We'll take him.”

“Retard,” Allie spat and stalked from the room as Garin watched her go.

The doctor looked as if he meant to take his words back, but Garin turned to him once more. “I'll take him. Do I need to sign him out or something?”

“At this point, unless you're ready to give us his name and address, you gotta do nothing more than take him with you, kid,” the doctor rubbed his hand on his forehead in frustration. Drug cases were always more complicated than they needed to be.

So it was, as the sun was going down that evening, that Garin and Allie had stuffed a half aware giant into the back of her car, drove him two miles to the other side of town, and then proceeded to stuff him into Garin's small brownstone, bundle him up the stairs, and drop him onto Garin's pull-out bed closest to the bathroom. Both of them were exhausted as they stood over his body and panted at the exertion of the stairs combined with his greater weight.

Exhaustion did not mean Allie was subdued. She turned toward the kitchen with Garin following and huffed indignantly. “Don't think I'm going to lift a finger to help that asshole or you, outside of helping you tie him down,” she snapped as she pulled a chair out and sat at the kitchen table. She watched Garin go about and make them coffee. “The minute he's aware enough to get a friend's name out of him, you send him packing. He won't want some stranger watching over him. And if you're not careful, he'll slit your throat and make off with everything.”

“Including my maidenly virginity and my set of silver spoons,” Garin grinned at her, setting the percolator to boil. “I got it. You're a love. What do the pamphlets say?”

“Fuck the pamphlets,” Allie said in frustration, “look it up on the internet. Withdrawals for meth suck the big one, but it's the steroids that are going to be scary. I'll help you watch his heart rate for the first couple of days. I'll make you some broth and stuff, jello, that kind of thing. And we wait. Shouldn't be more than a couple of days of no sleep for you unless you send him off to get his next fix. That'll clear him up real fast.”

Garin nodded in sad agreement. She was right. He couldn't get too attached to the outcome here. He knew from her experiences that drug users were more than likely to abuse those who cared for them. A bad trip wasn't about to stop this guy from wanting to get out of there. Still, what else was he supposed to do? He gave her a helpless smile. Allie sighed.

“Yeah,” she said shortly. “I get it. And I don't approve. I'll call Spence and we'll get a team on him. He really might need restraints at some point of time and you can't do this alone. You're lucky I love you.” She aimed a finger at him as she went to call in reinforcements.

Garin felt the warmth that came from the unconditional way Allie accepted those she did love and with the coffee on the stove, returned to the family room and his newest project. The guy looked worse for wear, sweating and uncomfortable and still bundled in that stupid coat. With a gentleness which had little to do with who he had before him and more to do with Garin's own manner, he got the man out of the coat and sat down on the side of the pull-out. He began to mentally catalogue what he would need for the guy while simultaneously trying to keep a lid on his spending in case he didn't have the guy around for more than a few hours, or until his buddies came for him, as Allie had said.

The man's eyes were half open and he looked toward Garin almost as if he could see him. Garin gave a small, careful smile. “I'm Garin. You're safe. We're gonna take care of you.” He noted how simple he sounded, once again, as if he couldn't help acting like he was nine again. Funny how time took you years away from something horrific and yet you didn't move a single step. “You gotta name?”

~~

[ClosetMonster]

The man was hardly aware of anything going on around him. He could feel himself being dragged from place to place, but wasn't fighting it much anymore. He wasn't in the hospital, or jail, and that's what was important. Once he was placed on the pull out, the guy zoned out for a few hours. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't very responsive, either. By the time Garin sat down on the edge of the bed and began talking to him, he was slowly coming back into it. But clearly not enough.

He didn't hear anything but a muffled voice breaking through his jumbled mind. He looked up at Garin, the look of a trapped animal in his eyes. His mind began racing, and common sense had long sense fled. Flashbacks began to roll through his head; pain, fear, blood, anger. All he knew was that he was in a room with another male, who he figured would began beating him into a bloody pulp if he didn't act first. The large man pushed himself off the mattress and made an clumsy lunge at Garin. His arms didn't seem to cooperate, so he ended up falling face first into Garin's back, sending them both onto the floor. He tried to get up to fight, but he couldn't. He couldn't fight. The best thing he could do was curl up in a ball, cover his head, and hope someone rung the bell soon, and that's exactly what he did.

~~

Garin had turned to get the guy some water when suddenly he was tackled to the ground. With a soft curse, he struggled away from the sick man who seemed just as intent on getting away from him. With the untangling of legs and arms, it took a moment, but quickly sorted itself out to where Garin stood, panting and staring down at where his newest project had curled into a ball on the ground, his arms reflexively over his head.

“What the fuck?” Allie's voice broke the quiet and Garin turned to look at her, confusion written all over his face.

“He jumped out of bed.”

She stared down at the man on the ground and then shook her head. “Weird. Well, at least he wasn't trying to hurt you. Let's get him back into bed.” She slipped to his side and with the brusque nature of someone well accustomed to dealing with the Unpleasant, she tugged on one arm while Garin got on the man's other side. Together, they hefted him, moaning and insensate, into the bed once more.

“I'll go and get my stethoscope,” Allie growled.

Garin sat down next to the guy and set his hand on the man's chest. Detox was no doubt unpleasant and the man's actions didn't make much sense, really. But, like she had said, at least he wasn't dangerous. It was less like being attacked and more like having a two hundred pound blanket thrown across his shoulders.

Allie was back quickly enough which meant she had brought some supplies inside while he'd been in the room with their patient. She leaned over the man and began to check vitals. “Never saw that kind of reaction, though,” she said softly. For once, she almost looked worried, though she obviously tried hard not to seem so.

“It was like he was afraid I was gonna start kicking him or something,” Garin hazarded a guess.

“Yeah,” Allie shrugged. “Wonder if he's mentally incapable or something. That'd explain why he's so big and why he's all jacked up. Probably used to having to hide after he's high. Guys can be nice or really cruel to someone who doesn't fit in.” She pulled back. “Heart rate is sluggish, but that's to be expected. I'd guess we're on the first steps of something nasty. You sure you want to do this?” She arched a brow at Garin, then sighed at his look of certainty. “Okay. I'm gonna go and get Spence, pick up some supplies. If he hasn't come out of it enough to give us names, he's not likely to any time soon. You just keep him in bed. If he will drink, give him some juice and be ready for it all to come back up.” She patted his shoulder. “Welcome to Pukeville, honey. You can't get off this train once you're on it. Please lift your trays to the up position and prepare your little, brown paper bags.”

“Get out of here,” Garin laughed.

“Going. Going.”

~~

The man let out a soft groan as he was put back into the bed. Something was wrong; there was no yelling, no hitting, nothing. He felt as though he'd lost a fight, but no punishment came. Usually, his father would scream himself hoarse and smack him around if he lost. Was his father even hear? He was scared and confused, but his body was tired and demanded rest. He could hear people talking, but they didn't sound angry, or even dangerous. He managed to find some ease in that. His face buried in the pillow he was given, and soon he dozed off.

It was about an hour later that he woke again. He felt as though he'd been hit by a car; his stomach hurt, his head hurt, his muscles were sore, and he wanted nothing more but to grip something and squeeze it until all his frustration melted away. He resisted the latter and crawled out of the bed to a trashcan that had been placed nearby. The man leaned over it for a moment, and then heaved out what little contents had been in his stomach. Vomiting came in waves until his body decided that it had nothing else to purge, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth and a burn in his throat. He looked around for something to drink, but couldn't see anything. Instead of venturing out to find water, he just laid on the floor and tried to cope with how shitty he felt.

He was beginning to wish that his father WAS there, so that he could get another dose of meth. He didn't want it, but he needed it. He'd been forced to take it so long, that he didn't know how to cope without it. He was so dependent on his father's drugs that he would rather stay and tolerate the abuse than leave and suffer the withdrawal, and of that he was more ashamed of than anything.

He couldn't hear anyone speaking; maybe they'd left to find his dad. Maybe his dad would come in and shoot him up with another round. He was sick at the almost hopeful feeling he got at the thought. The man curled up again, hating himself and filling with frustration at both his own actions and his life in general. He'd thought about ending it several time, but was almost too much of a coward to do it. He laid his face in the crook of his arm as he felt tears running down his cheeks.

~~

The door to the room opened and there was a worried sound, a mingled sigh and gasp. “Of course,” a man's voice cut in, soft and almost amused though one look at the man's face would show there was plenty of worry in it, “the minute Spence and Allie get here, you get out of bed.” Strong, slender hands curled around the patient's upper arms and drew him over onto his back. “You fallen and can't get up, huh?” he said in the same tone, broken at the last with a grunt of exertion and the patient was drawn up and toward the bed once more.

Garin wasn't made for lifting such huge loads. The man was solid muscle but despite all of Allie's warnings, he'd only kept curled in on himself and had moaned softly a time or two. It was strange, like being around a really big kitten. A wet, bedraggled kitten. Granted, kittens had teeth and claws to bear if necessary, but this one seemed to not know it.

Spence came in just as he'd managed to get the man onto the edge of the bed. The guy couldn't hardly sit up without a lot of help and Garin had him firmly in hand while he was trying to pull back the tangled blankets behind.

“He's huge,” Spence's voice was a far deeper one, almost raspy from a bar fight years prior that had cut into his larynx. Spence was big enough, but more broad than tall. Garin hadn't put together just how big their guest was until Spence had come up alongside.

“And he's wrung out. I had put a tub by the bed, buster,” Garin's hands were free with Spence holding the man up to allow him to put the bedding back to rights and then work with his friend on putting the man back into bed. “He keeps crawling out. We might want to pull the mattress down and put it on the floor, keep him from falling and hurting himself.”

The pair worked over the man, Spence's more experienced eye taking in the state of the man's body as they did so. Silently, the older man left to get some water while Garin pushed the man's hair back out of his face.

Garin sighed and then leaned down and began to massage the man's temples. He wasn't altogether sure it would do any good, but at the point they were in, any small kindness, right? “Sorry, I wouldn't have left if they hadn't come to the door and Allie had locked it. She's got some insane idea that you got dangerous friends, buddy.”

It was strange, talking to a man who didn't seem to understand, really. Grain gave a grim smile and then sat back to arrange the blankets more snugly around the man's form. “You really are huge. I should have a king size mattress and I'll bet your feet would still hang over the ends.” He turned and reached out his hand as Spence returned with some Gatorade in a glass. “Okay, up we get. Allie says you need liquids, buddy. Spence?”

Spence got on the other side of the bed and the pair of them lifted the man to a seated position. Spence took the main weight of the guy on his chest while Garin lifted the cup to the man's lips and tried to get him to drink.

~~

Once again, the man resisted help. He didn't want them to see him cry; it made him felt weak. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Anger boiled in his blood, but he didn't have the strength to act on it. It faded soon enough once he was back in the bed. His mood swings would be a dangerous asset once he was up and walking around, but for now, they didn't pose much threat. He was able to understand what was being said to him, although he didn't want to hear it. A dark, quiet room would have been nice.

The man helping him up said something about him having dangerous friends. The joke was on him thought; the man didn't have any friends. Most of the people he met were either working with his father, or were trying to fight him. Either way, they weren't very nice. Once he was laying flat, the man attempted to cover himself with the sheets, but he was soon pulled up again. At least this time, a drink was offered to him. He quickly gulped it down, reaching a shaky hand up to attempt to hold the glass himself. It was probably best that he didn't.

As his hands raised to the light, however, a few more of his many scars showed. His knuckles were covered in scar tissue. When he held his hand out flat, it became even more obvious. There was really only one way to obtain that kind of injury: punching thing. Most of the time, those things were people.

~~

As soon as the glass was empty, it was gone and while the man who cradled him against a broad chest remained, the other left the room only to return with the glass filled again and a plastic jug of more red drink. Beside him, a small woman with black hair tied back at the nape of her neck and a pinched expression on her thin lips glowered at them all.

“Fuck, you guys suck at this,” she snapped and taking the jug from the slender man, she set it on the side table, then grabbed the waste bin and some kleenex. She leaned in, wiped his nose and eyes, then pulled back to glare at the other two. She couldn't have been more than five foot four, but the two men looked sufficiently cowed. “He needs to drink more, but not right away. Parcel that out over the next hour or so. We gotta keep liquids in him more than anything. And get that coverlet off of the bed. When he pukes, it's gonna be red and stain.” She waved a hand at the blankets, then set the waste bin beside the bed. “For you,” she stared directly at the patient, “for when you upchuck. If you can't make it, then that's okay. You got some place to go? You got friends you wanna go to? Anyone got your junk you want?” She looked at him and there was a hint of fury under it all, that or disgust.

“Allie,” the slender man gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “He hasn't asked to go. Let's keep him and if he wants, he'll say something.” He looked behind the patient and lifted a brow in question. “Whatcha think, Spence?”

“I think if he needs to leave, he will,” the deep voice belonging to the man called Spence thrummed through the barrel chest behind him. “Otherwise, I say we let Momma Boy here keep him.”

Allie sighed and shook her head. “I'm going to make us something to eat and some coffee. You two idiots are going to need it. He's still strung out. Give him time. He'll be breaking shit before you know it.” She turned and as she left, she muttered, “Hopefully it won't be your heads.”

The slender man they'd called Momma Boy gave a fond grin at the man behind him and then shrugged. “Okay, let's get him sleeping again. She's right. He's gonna need any rest he can get right now.”

“You need to puke or you wanna lay down?” Spence rumbled behind him, one thick arm holding the patient upright still.

~~

[ClosetMonster]

The man sat quietly on the bed, silently hating the woman's voice. Why did she have to be so loud? Why were they talking about him like some kind of dog? Not that he wasn't used to it by now. When she asked if he had anywhere to go, people to see, he merely shook his head. He couldn't muster up the strength to talk, and if he could, he figured it would be incoherent anyway. When the woman walked out, his shoulders relaxed a bit. For the first time in a long time, he found himself preferring the company of other males rather than a female. He never fought girls; they had a lot of tough talk that could break a man's spirit, but they couldn't beat him the way other guys could. Usually when he was stuck somewhere with strange men, he was expected to beat them into unconsciousness. Strangely, that didn't seem to be the case here. They were...helping him. He was almost completely sure at this point that he didn't know any of these people, but they somehow found reason to look out for him.

He shook his head when asked if he wanted to puke. He just wanted to sleep some more. Maybe when he woke up, he would feel all better, and live happily ever after. Or at least a guy could hope. Before they could help, he flopped his own self down on the mattress, face first.

~~

Spence watched the guy fall over with a bemused expression that Garin found almost laughable other than it was obvious the man needed more rest. When they were both certain he was just sleeping, Spence looked up at Garin and gave a shrug.

“I'll take first watch.”

Garin went to lay down in his bed, curled under the nest of thick down blankets and pillows, all of which pronounced him So Flaming Gay, as Allie had said, but which were also the one place in the world he could be safe and be himself. Even with people in his small brownstone, he could curl under the pile and disappear, far away from anything that might have grabbed him.

Though, a hand snaking under the blankets could, he discovered, grab him quite well. He mumbled and drew away from the small, warm hand then glowered over the tops of the pile to where Allie had taken off her pants and her bra. She crawled across his bed, then flopped down beside him, slowly burrowing herself into the warm hidey hole he'd created.

“Spence is gonna think we're an item,” Garin murmured at her in the dim light of the cavern she'd created by pulling the blankets over their heads.

“We are,” she bit his shoulder then snuggled in close, his arms around her. In moments, the pair were fast asleep.

Spence, however, had the unenviable position of having to waken their patient every twenty minutes or so, to get the next cup down. The older man sighed and watched the clock.

~~

The guy left in the room with him kept waking him up to make him drink, a fact that was making the man increasingly agitated. He wasn't even thirsty anymore. He'd told the guy so at least twice, but he didn't seem to listen. Finally, the man began to refuse cooperation. It was something of a childish tantrum. When the stranger tried to sit him up, he turned himself into dead weight.

This continued into the wee hours of the morning, until the sick man crawled out of bed to barf again. The initial symptoms of overdose seemed to have passed, leading to the fun part: withdrawal. The large man grabbed onto a dresser to slowly pull himself up onto his own feet. He was shaky, but he managed to stay up. He looked like some kind of mess: still wearing his boxers and a ridiculously small jacket, dreadlocks falling where ever they pleased. And he was beginning to smell as though he needed a nice, hot shower.

The man looked over at the other guy in the room; it was either Garin or Spence, he hadn't particularly been paying attention to which names belonged to which. The three of them had been taking shifts to make sure he didn't choke on his own puke or something all night. The man didn't bother saying anything to his company; he wasn't much of a talker. He could smell some kind of breakfast being cooked off in the kitchen, which made his stomach turn. It's been hours, possibly days, since he'd last had decent nutrition, but his stomach was threatening to evacuate itself again if he tried.

~~

Garin sat up and watched their patient stand. The man hadn't said a word. He'd been recalcitrant, difficult, and frustrating, and over it all, he'd not asked for drugs, asked to be returned to friends, or even shown more than a rudimentary knowledge of what they were saying.

They had, in the wee hours, and over a cup of coffee for Garin, cups of tea and cocoa for Allie and Spence respectively, come to the conclusion that the man was some kind of human trafficking victim. He probably didn't know much English and he obviously had been used for pit fighting or something equally horrific.

That, or he was a spy from another country. Garin liked to think of him as a Bourne's Supremacy sort of character, it added some mystique to it all. Still, despite their guesses, it was also somewhat obvious the man was taking full advantage of the opportunity to dry out. Even Allie had accepted that and the change in her behavior toward him was quick and about-face. She no longer looked at him in disgust, but rather had an infinite well of patience she seemed more than capable of giving to him.

As the man stood, Garin gave him a small smile. The guy looked ridiculous, but he was upright. “Okay,” Garin nodded and stood as well. “You're up. Let's get you cleaned up and see about moving you out to the living room, where you can feel more human. Allie was supposed to go and get you some sweats and stuff. Clothes?” he mimicked putting on pants and pointed to the man's legs. “At least to keep you warm. Come.” He gestured toward the hallway. “There's a bathroom through here. We'll get you a bath drawn and get you some warm clothes and maybe some tea for your stomach.”

~~

The man watched the other guy as he was spoken to like some kind of foreigner. Did this guy think he was a dumbass or something? Then again, he supposed he hadn't given them any reason to believe that he could even speak English. Had he even said anything to them yet? And here they were going through all this trouble to help him. He began to feel a bit bad.

As he followed the man, he attempted to speak his first sentence since his arrival. "Thanks," He grunted as he was shown to the bathroom. "Um...Isaiah...my name's Isaiah." His voice was surprisingly soft for his size, a bit deep, but holding an almost gentle tone. His social skills could use some work, but considering his position, it was fairly understandable. After introducing himself, he quickly fumbled his way into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He may have been sick as hell, but he wasn't completely helpless; he figured he could handle a bath on his own. He looked back at the lock and tried to decide if he should lock it or not, but finally decided against it.

Isaiah pulled off the too-small jacket and his grass stained boxers. Both were dumped on the floor as he got into the tub. He turned the shower on, was immediately sprayed with ice cold water, and fumbled to turn the nod to hot. Steam filled the air quickly as he sat in the tub and just let the water run over him, too weak to bother with standing. He let himself relax under the hot rain, until he leaned his head against the shower wall and slowly began to drift off. Before he knew it, he was asleep once more.

~~

Garin's mouth was open slightly as the door was closed firmly in his face. With the plywood a few inches from his nose, he blinked a few times before he added, “Nice to meet you,” in a soft voice and far more to himself than to the tall man who had just spoken.

Allie looked up from the pan of eggs she was frying when he walked into the kitchen. She gave him a grim nod, her patience with the patient... with Isaiah, was not passed on as easily to her friends. Allie wasn't the type of woman to give anything up easily, partially why she and Garin had become friends in the first place was due to this stubbornness on her part.

“Kay,” he said as he slid into the stool, “his name is Isaiah and he can talk. He just.. doesn't, I guess?”

“Makes sense,” Allie nodded then at the look of confusion and frustration on his face, added, “he's in a place filled with three strangers and he's going through withdrawals. That can't be a good place for anyone to be. I wouldn't want to talk either.”

“I would,” Garin protested furiously.

“Yeah,” Allie smiled at him in fondness, “but that's because you're Garin and Garin is the type of boy who can't shut up when he needs to. Eggs?” she waved the pan toward him, describing a half circle in the air.

“Sure,” he leaned on his hand and watched her spoon food out. “He's in the bathroom.”

“So long as he isn't casing your medicine cabinet for something besides all of the freakin' vitamins you've got in there, he'll probably be okay. I was looking it up. Meth's a killer to kick, but it doesn't put him into the same kind of danger that alcohol or heroin would. He's gotten through the dangerous shit. Now he's onto the tough stuff.”

Garin hadn't read much on anything, he wasn't a big reader like she was, but because of that, he was more than willing to let her knowledge guide him. Besides. Breakfast.

“He down all that Gatorade?” she asked when his mouth was finally full.

“He did one liter, got another bottle that he managed to get through half of before Spence says he went into full refusal. Spence was calling it a temper tantrum.”

“He'll have more of those,” Allie said as if she was in the know. She probably was, though. Garin figured things were bound to get worse before they got any better, really.

~~

It was a good twenty minutes later when Isaiah awoke to cold water pelting his skin. He leaned forward and turned the shower off, then rubbed his eyes and sat there a moment as he tried to figure out how long he'd been asleep. Finally, he pulled himself out of the tub, his muscles still hurting as if he'd gone through an intense workout. He made it over to the sink, where he grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist. He pulled another one off to wring his hair our. The thin ropes would remain wet for several hours.

When he was done drying himself off, he looked in the mirror. There was a very shitty looking, tired, and soaked Isaiah looking back at him. He stared at his own reflection for a moment, scolding himself once again for being the drug addicted loser that he was. Then he noticed that the mirror had a medicine cabinet behind it. Out of curiosity, he opened it and began to nose around inside. Most of the bottles had weird little vitamins in them, but others popped out at him. Robitussin? A few swallows of that would have him feeling better in no time... Isaiah stared at the bottle, part of him telling him to do it, the other part telling him to have a shred of common sense. Finally, common sense won and he closed the cabinet. He finally had a chance to escape; he couldn't just fuck it up now.

He kept the towel around his waist as he left the bathroom, slowly shuffling his way to the kitchen. Maybe the girl, Allie he thought her name was, had come back with clothes for him. Isaiah made his way in, not saying a word as he pulled out a chair at the table and plopped himself down. He promptly laid his head down and stared out the window. His began to bounce his leg under the table, probably unaware that he was doing so.

~~

[ClosetMonster]

Allie glanced to where the large man sat at the table, his leg moving nervously, and his face closed off. He really looked like hell warmed over, which was to be expected. But, she smirked, Garin didn't seem to notice that so much. As Isaiah had sat down, Garin's mouth had dropped open. Allie gave him a grin and as she set his eggs on the table before him, she took the opportunity to tap his chin hard enough to make his teeth clack when his jaw snapped closed.

Garin made a soft sound of distress and had quickly stood and gone to the depths of the kitchen to rummage in the fridge for something cold, no doubt and Allie let her eyes wander over the man again.

Isaiah was a fine specimen, if one were into pumped so high on steroids that he would need to stay away from sharp tacks so as not to pop. But Garin's and her ideas of male beauty were very different and she had seen enough of his glazed looks after Dwayne Johnson (seriously? The Rock? Could it get any worse than that?) to know just what body type he went for. This Isaiah, sick and broken as he was, was sitting around like meat candy on a stick, all hung out with the towel and looking depressed and morose and in need of rescuing from whatever damsel in distress had been laying waste to his pretty country.

Allie set a plate of bananas in front of him and then went to the living room, returning rather quickly with a sales bag under her arm.

“I guessed, but it's better than boxers or a towel,” Allie said and set the bag down next to the man. “You'd best get dressed. You're gonna be cold soon and cold, on top of the crap you got going on, that doesn't sound none too good.” She gave him a small smile, then returned to the stove. Along the way, she gave Garin a nice, hefty shove into the fridge, forcing him to pull himself back out to glare at her.

Garin looked as if he were drenched in pink. He was always an easy blusher and while she'd never expect him to take advantage of a poor, mountain of a man who obviously needed help, it wasn't like he was blind. Her grin left him angry and the pink only deeper in his skin as he got himself a glass of milk and settled into a chair to drink it.

Silence, it was. That, in itself was odd, but Allie felt confident in blaming it in Isaiah's lack of dress and Garin's idiocy in not getting the clothes to the poor man in the first place. Garin was a smartie, despite his lack of background in classic literature, but sometimes the easiest of rules would bypass his brain.

“Want something to drink?” she asked to cut the quiet a bit. “Juice or water. It's important to stay hydrated. It makes it bother you less.”

~~

Isaiah continued his thousand yard stare, completely oblivious as to what was going on around him. The bananas set in front of him remained untouched, another meal skipped. He let out a grunted as the clothes were set down in front of him. After a moment, he perhaps realized how rude that was and managed a 'thank you'. He lifted his head and took the bag in one arm. Slowly but surely, he got up and began to shuffle off, looking very much like a sore old man. He'd only just made it out of the kitchen when Allie asked if he wanted anything to drink.

"Maybe later," He said as he wandered off to the room he'd been in before. Once he was alone with the door shut, he dropped his towel and dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor. Boxers, sweat pants, t-shirts, nothing fancy. He wasn't used to fancy clothes anyway. Isaiah slowly got dressed. Most of the clothes fit him fairly well, save for the sweat pants, which was an easy fix with a draw string. Once he was decent, he went to lay down on the bed. It was only a few minutes before he realized that he wouldn't be able to nap all this away.

As soon as he hit the mattress, he was overcome with discomfort. He turned over to try and find a comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. After rolling around a few times, he gave up, frustrated, and slunk back to the kitchen. When he sat back down, his leg began to bounce, and he tapped his fingernails on the table. He just couldn't seem to sit still. Isaiah felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin; he wanted to be alone, but at the same time, he felt as though he needed the sounds of other people around to keep himself together. What he really needed was a shot of meth. He found himself thinking back to that bottle in the cabinet, but tried to switch his focus to something else.

The man picked up a banana and became hyper-focused on it, studying each little spot and bump as if he would be tested on it.

~~

Allie had settled across the table from Garin and the stranger with her own breakfast when Spence wandered in, his jeans low on his hips and his fingers scratching across his “love bump” as he called it. He was solid, in the way a man over fifty was solid – muscles from daily use bound and thickly knotted across his wide frame, and a heavy fur on his chest, peppered with grey. He gave a heavy handed pat on Garin's head which turned into something of a friendly caress in passing then went to get some coffee which Allie had kept available from the beginning.

Reentering, the older man leaned against the entrance and eyeballed the newbie. “You're up.”

“His name's Isaiah,” Garin added helpfully, then glanced at their patient.

Allie said nothing, merely watched Isaiah for a moment, took her last bite, and gathered up her plate to go clean up. “My turn in bed,” she said calmly, dumping the plates into the sink and brushing past Spence. The older man gave her a quick grab and a fatherly kiss on the brow before letting her go, sour look and all, into the back hall where she disappeared from view.

Neither of the two men said much after Allie had gone. Garin ate slowly and methodically, his usual garrulous behavior dampened by the fact that no one really knew what to make of his guest. Spence wasn't fully woken up, but he seemed comfortable leaning on the door frame and watching Isaiah watch a banana.

After a while, Garin stood as well and went to do dishes, while Spence entered into the room and settled down at the table so as to get a closer look at the man.

“Let me be quick about this,” Spence said in a calm, bear deep voice. “Garin found you in the park, not a stitch on outside of your underwear. You're obviously a druggie and you've obviously been through some rough shit. You look like someone pounded the crap out of you right before they dropped you off, but you also look like you gave back as good as you got. Actually, judging from the way your knuckles look a hell of a lot like mine,” he cracked his knuckles and then spread his hands out, the knuckles both raised and flattened from repeated use, “you're probably some kind of fighter. You look like you've been doing the underground circuit, one of those anything-goes shit fighting rings.

“So I ain't got no problem with that. I get it. Fast cash for a big guy like you. But here's the deal, Isaiah. You get your self clean, you don't create no trouble for my friends, and I'll be your greatest supporter. You fuck with them?” He paused, then grinned, white and broad and menacing, “I'll make sure no one finds your body.”

~~

Isaiah broke his intent study of the banana when he heard his name. The little guy was introducing him to the bigger one, if he'd heard right, anyway. "Izzy," He piped up. "You can call me Izzy." He wasn't particularly fond of his name; it was a little too Biblical for his tastes. He honestly wasn't sure why he'd given it to them at all; his nickname was what he went by most of the time. He hand gave a slight twitch, and he set the banana back down to look between his company.

The smaller man wasn't much of a threat. Isaiah figured he could snap the guy's neck in one, good blow. The other guy was a different story. He had a body type that was sometimes referred to as the 'bulldog': not too tall, but muscular. He'd had his ass handed to him a few times buy the like. That was why, when the man sat down closer to him, Isaiah grew tense and seemed to inch away. The man began to talk, and Isaiah wasn't too happy about what he heard. They just thought he was some druggie; that he'd down this all himself! How fucking dare they-

Goddammit; his anger was getting the best of him again. He had to remind himself that it was all the withdrawal; the withdrawal that would have never happened if he wasn't such a spineless sheep. If he'd had the guts to tell his father to go fuck himself and just walk away from it all. He calmed as the man continued to talk, saying something about not causing trouble. Isaiah just hunched over slowly and stared at the man, a restless look in his eyes. What if he fucked something up and this guy turned him in? Or worse. Just what qualified as 'trouble'? He supposed raiding the medicine cabinet would be on there somewhere...maybe if he waited until they were all asleep... No. He couldn't; he couldn't give up that easier. The temporary relief wasn't worth the trouble it would cause him. Morals won once again, this time.

~~
At the sound of the dishwasher starting up, Spence placed his hands on the table and stood. “Glad we could have this talk.” He paused, gave Izzy a curious look, then nodded as if somehow, he'd come to some conclusion which he obviously hadn't felt the need to share, as immediately after, he turned about to enter the kitchen.

Most of the kitchen was visible from the table. All but the sink and some of the fridge was in full view. So Spence turning to help with the last of the clean-up effectively sheltered both he and Garin from view for the moment. However, that didn't last long as Garin took a step back and gave their patient a worried look.

Garin flushed then went back toward the sink again. The tap turned on and a short moment after, Garin had left the kitchen and set down a large glass of water on the table.

“I know it seems like we're, you know, pushing liquids. But Allie did some research and the docs said that you were coming off of methamphetamines, for the most part. That and steroids, so she found out you need to stay hydrated. It's supposed to make it easier.”

He cleared his throat and brushed his hands down his chest nervously. “That and, umm, finding things to take your mind off of it. I gotta fairly large video library. Spence and I were planning on watching a movie once he woke up. We were thinking of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. That's the one with the Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea guy... or was it two thousand?” he furrowed his brow, then gave a shy smile. “Anyway, if that would help, you're welcome to join us. I mean, if it's not your cup of tea, we could probably change it too. Neither of us is picky. Well, except Spence doesn't do chick flicks, so those are out. Everything else is just fine.”

He might have kept up the rambling, his nervousness obviously ratcheting up with each passing moment of talking to a silent person, but Spence called from the open archway, “He's got it, Gar – let him think about it. Shit.”

Garin pulled back and looked sidelong toward where Spence must have been in his view. “Yeah.. sorry.” He glanced back at Izzy. “Anyway. Umm.. it's through there. In the living room. There's a couch in there too. Umm, real soft and stuff.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I'm just gonna make popcorn. That kinda thing.”

~~

Izzy gave Garin the same look he'd given Spencer the whole time he was being spoken to. "Yeah, that sounds fine," He said, finally. His voice was still an almost timid sound. Once he was sure Garin was done explaining...whatever the hell he was talking about, Izzy went back to drumming his fingers on the table. After a minute or so, he got up.
"I'm gonna' go take a nap," He said. He had zero intentions of napping; he just wanted to get out of there and be alone. Something about being around other people was making him nervous; jumpy.

He hurried off to the bedroom he'd been sleeping in and shut the door. Izzy paced back and forth, stopping and whipping his head towards any little noise he heard. He was beginning to think that half of them weren't really there; it was just his mind screwing with him. It didn't take long for him to get tired, but when he tried to lay down or sit, he would get too antsy. He would end up getting up to pace for a few minutes, then sit for a few minutes, then pace some more. He was miserable.

By the time a few hours had passed, he found himself sitting on the floor, knees up to his chest. He wanted nothing more than to leave and find himself something, anything, to take the edge off. The cough medicine in the bathroom cabinet was more than tempting, but he knew if he went for it now, he'd get caught. He would have to wait until they were busy with their movie thing; then he'd go for it.

~~

Allie woke after Spence had gone home for a real shower and some alone time. She stumbled out and the movie was quietly on, playing but not being watched as Garin sat, knees up on the couch, and fingered apart the frayed ends of a quilt he had on the back. She walked past him and to the room where their patient was being kept.

Isaiah was sitting on the floor in the same sort of holding pose, only without the quiet calm Garin had. Allie let the door close as she went to sit down in front of him, her dark eyes gazing at him closely.

It had been easier, when she'd known her druggies. This one hadn't asked for help, hadn't asked to leave, hadn't asked for anything – other than he also hadn't done more than say thanks a few times and give them his name, apparently. While she could have cared less about the mystery, both she and Spence weren't about to leave Garin alone with some half crazed, junkie behemoth until they knew more.

He looked jittery. He looked miserable. Allie sighed and stood. “Get your bedding off and get your ass out there. The least you can do is help.” She looked toward the pull-out he'd been in and then back to him. “You can't sit in here and hope that this is going to go away. You need people. Even if they're a bunch of weirdos like us. Let's go. Up!”

Hearing voices, Garin had unfolded and he wandered sleepily into the back room, having been up most of the last shift. “Everything all right?” he hazarded as he looked to where Izzy was curled up on the floor.

“Other than Isaiah here, being all hidey and stuff,” Allie shrugged. “And that is not how we're going to play this.”

“Oh.” Garin blinked at them both, then gave a half quirk of his mouth that would have been a smile any other time. “M'goin' ta bed.” He turned and stumbled from the room once more.

~~

[ClosetMonster]

Goddammit! Why the hell couldn't they just leave him alone?! All he fucking wanted was to sit here and be a miserable piece of shit! If they really wanted to help, they would just leave him be!

Isaiah gave the girl a mean glare, his fists tightening as she came in to demand that he move his ass. He was itching to tell her to shut her mouth before he shut it for her, but thought better of it. His head was beginning to pound like a rapid gorilla in a cage, and he was in no mood to socialize. Part of that was probably due to not eating for almost two days now.

He grumbled quietly as he got up and slunk out to the living room. He plopped down on the couch, looking very much like a big, angry child with a pout on his face.

~~

Allie watched Isaiah stand and slump off. She scowled after him in annoyance then stripped his bedding herself. With a thump, she stalked from the side room and through the living room with his sheets in her arms to the side hall and further on to the laundry. After putting things in the washer and letting the lid close with a bang, she walked back into the living room where Isaiah sat huffily.

She gave a small sigh, then sat down in the large chair across the room. She drew up her legs and tucked her knees up against her sides. Holding onto her ankles, she looked younger than she really was. Her dark eyes were serious and calm.

Not talking, she merely watched him. Her curiosity was plain enough but she did not ask a single question. Rather she breathed in slow and steadily and very obviously watched his every move, as if she were cataloging him. Arm movements, slot A. Head tilts, slot C. All leg jitters boxed up in the F envelope.

He wasn't much of a talker and she didn't seem one either. Garin had closed the bedroom door behind himself, Spence was distinctly missing from the brownstone. Allie was it. She and this lurching man who might as well have been glowering on the floor of his from as well as on the chair in the living room. Still, he was there. That would do for the moment. One couldn't expect too much at first. Obviously.

~~

Isaiah didn't relax. He was tense, nervous, irritable, and felt like shit all at the same time. He would glance over at the girl staring at him every one and while, getting more irritated by the moment. What the hell was she looking at? His shoulders were kept high, his leg bouncing on his foot, fingers picking at his pants. He wasn't really sure what to think of his newfound freedom. They claimed he could leave any time he wanted; but they could just be lying to him. Even if it were true, he had nowhere to go. Isaiah was incapable of surviving on his own.

His father did everything for him: bought him food, clothes, paid the bills, kept him drugged up, and made sure he didn't get away. As they moved from place to place, he was usually kept in the basement, or some room where he couldn't bust the door down or climb out a window. If no such room was available, it wasn't uncommon for them to tie him to the wall like a dog. His life consisted of sitting in that room, waiting to another dose, something to eat, or to be dragged off to another fight.

Fights were pretty simple; there were only two rules. 1: Fists only. 2: You don't win until the opponent is unconscious. Isaiah would be shoved into a ring with another guy, only two options to consider: attack first or be attacked. Attacking first was usually the better option. He won most of his fights, but the ones he lost were brutal. His father would never take him to a hospital; instead, he'd get fixed up by a crooked doctor friend. That was basically his life since he was 12; one big, vicious circle.

Izzy began to quiver in his seat on the couch. His stomach gave an angry growl, but he was afraid to eat. What if he just threw it all up again?

~~

Uncertain of exactly how much time they spent, Allie bored eventually of thinking about someone who wasn't doing anything, and instead stood to do her usual. In this case, she'd made breakfast, cleaned up, and cleaned bedding. When the washer went off, she wandered into the back, changed out the bedding, and returned with a book under her arm.

Time would go slow, but in reality, it wasn't the same charged slow that she'd had to endure when the druggie had been her family. Now, it was just some guy her friend had pulled out of a park. Granted, there was plenty of unknown. The guy obviously didn't ask for anything, got grumpy when they gave him stuff, and basically didn't want to be bothered. But he also hadn't left.

Which was pretty damn curious, because... well, just because.

A chapter in, Allie fetched a mug of soda and set down a cup of juice beside him. She gave him little to no eye contact as she went back to the loveseat and settled with her book to her chest and her soda at her elbow.

It was strange, how easily their guest faded into the silence. She had almost forgotten him when Garin stumbled out and mumbled, “Lo, Allie.. Izzy...” and stumbled toward the kitchen. Allie glanced at the man who was as solid stone as anyone could be when coming down from a high. Still, the shock made her shift and look at the clock. It was with relief she realized it hadn't been more than an hour and Garin was probably just having trouble sleeping, as was his wont. As the bleary man re-entered the room with his own mug of water, she took a look at him.

No – not even enough sleep and definitely worried, the way he turned his head and looked Isaiah over.

“You want something to cuddle with?” she teased grimly.

“Not til Spence's back,” Garin mumbled and then took a half step toward the interloper. “You kay?”

~~

Isaiah just about jumped from his skin when Garin spoke. He whipped his head around to look at the man, his eyes wild. His body was shaking, hands fidgeting. He watched Garin like a hawk as he moved in front of the couch he was perched on; the intensity of his stare was rather unnerving. Izzy seemed agitated simply by the fact that there was someone else in the room, making noise and trying to talk to him.

"No," He grunted when asked if he was okay. Of course he wasn't okay. Did he fucking look okay? Maybe they should ask him again after he got his hands on that goddamn cough syrup.

He was tired; very tired. Izzy would have given anything to just sleep this whole thing out, but he couldn't even sit still for a few minutes, let alone rest. He wished he could go back in his little room and hide. He wished his body would stop hurting. He wished this could all be someone else; not him. Why did bad things always have to happen to him?

~~

Garin flushed slightly at the short answer. Even half awake, he could hear the derision in the man's voice. “Yeah,” he said, unsure what else he could have said or what he could say even then. He glanced at Allie and she shook her head. There obviously was nothing they could do?

“What about.. umm.. like Tylenol or something?” he asked no one in particular.

Allie answered him, however. “It isn't a flu, Gar,” she said softly.

“But it doesn't look very comfortable. I mean, water and.. well, food, and then, it said we were supposed to invite you to do things to get your mind off of it. But I guess I'm not sure just what to do. You.. you know, you look like you'd...”

He looked like he'd rather have had them leave him where he'd been found. Garin wasn't all too sure he wanted to say that aloud, however, because it wasn't in keeping with his world view where everyone wanted to get better.

“If.. uh, if you want something, you just hafta ask, okay?” he said finally, bleary and uncertain about the entire process. Allie, at least, looked like normal. The rest of his living room felt oddly off with the darkness of that man in it. Garin's space generally was the restful one, not the one where others came to exude Pissed Off.

~~

'It said'? Where they going off some kind of 'how to cure a drug addict' guide? Did those things even exist? It should be noted that Izzy's knowledge of the internet, TV, and even books was limited at best. He knew they existed, but he'd never dealt with them personally. He barely had a seventh grade education. Izzy nestled back down with his chin hidden by his knees. He felt uncomfortable; like everyone in the room was staring at him. His head pounded, and irritating and frustration melted away to sorrow. His mood swung again, this time for a self pity-party once more.

It was about that time that he gained the courage to ask for something to eat. He hadn't asked for a single thing so far, as if doing so would make them angry. It usually made his father angry, so why would it not do the same to them? All people were the same, weren't they? His voice went from the sour tone he'd used before to downright timid.
"Can I have...a sandwich or something?"

~~

Garin had taken a step back and half turned to move away when the man's low voice slide into hearing. It was uncertain, more than likely because he wasn't all too sure what to do with the sudden appearance of three busybodies in his life, but it was also a welcome change from the gruff correction of his name. Garin's shoulders hitched up in surprise and then relaxed as he turned to give the man a smile.

“Sandwich?” he reiterated and nodded. “Sure.. I mean, you bet. Anything you want? I got... dang, I got roast beef, the cheap stuff from the store, and cheese, and lettuce and tomatoes, and mayo and mustard, pickles, umm.. and peanut butter and honey and jam. Pretty much anything you want. What sounds good?”

~~end of document~~

[Metronome]

Izzy gazed at the man as he listed things. Why was he asking him what he wanted? Why not just make something and shove it at him like most other people did? Izzy really wasn't sure what to do with the options handed to him; he wasn't used to making choices for himself.
"Uh....roast beef sounds good," He said, hesitantly. What if that was the wrong answer? Would Garin get pissed off at him? Would he not get anything?