Kicking the Habit
Fear. He knew fear, had lived with it for too many years. Ever since he had realized his abilities were not like everybody else's, he had been afraid. It coiled around his stomach, bringing nausea when he ate. It sat on his shoulders holding him back from getting too close to people. It coursed through his veins, making his heart pound and his palms sweat.
He feared not being aware enough and having some one attack him. He feared sensing too far and hearing things he didn't want to hear like,
'not wanted',
'even his own mother didn't want him',
'stupid half breed',
'dumb Injun',
'no better than a half trained dog'.
He had heard them all. In spite of what he had been told, names did hurt. He had tried to do as his adopted mother told him and ignore the taunts but it didn't work. Maybe they were right and he was too stupid. Maybe if he was smarter then he could figure out how to get them to stop. But then if he was smarter then maybe his real Mother wouldn't have left him. Maybe, just maybe, she would have loved him enough to let him stay with her. Maybe he had been bad. He tried to be good. He had tried really hard but it was no use. He always made mistakes. He was no good.
He also feared another Guardian would get too close and smell his fear. He used anger and silence to hide his fear but that only worked on real people. A Guardians would sense it right away. Guardians were territorial. They would kill an intruder. He had always been an intruder, always the new kid, always the outsider.
There was only one way to escape and that was death. Once before he had seen his chance to escape and had taken it. He had turned on his handler and beaten him unconscious and then had run. He had had eight months of relative freedom. He had been on the run but he had been free of the drugs and the handlers and the training and the humiliation. He had been caught and the punishment and abuse had escalated as had the drug dosage, but the time on the run had been worth it. When times got really tough he thought back to those times and relived them in his mind.
Now with that bastard Iamello gone things had gotten better. The new Handler didn't seem to hate him, didn't like him but at least he didn't hate him. Now if he could just get off the drugs maybe he could run again. The drugs they gave him made him feel terrible. After his shot he was numb, nothing mattered. He couldn't even think right. As bad as that was when it wore off it was worse. He could handle pain, he had had enough practice at that while growing up, but when he didn't get his injection on time he tried but it became too much. He got all shaky and started hurting all over. That was bad enough but when he started crying and then it felt like his blood was itching he thought he was going out of his mind. He would do anything to make it stop. And to his shame he had done anything and everything.
Now was the best chance he would have. Iamello was gone and even though he had told Garrison everything, the man had yet to exert his authority. There had been no Guardian training, no practice scans, nothing except what the others had to do. That was OK, but the drugs… He had to get free now. If he survived then he would run and be free, if he died then he would still be free. The price would be high but the price of freedom was always high. Decision made, now he would do it.
"I don't want it." The voice was tightly controlled.
Garrison was conflicted. He had returned just a half an hour ago from London where he had been stripped of his Captain's bars, because of the Guardian. Actually it was his own decision to leave the Guardian behind on their training mission but his loss was tied to the Guardian. Because of that a tiny part of him wanted to punish the Guardian, make him hurt physically as he himself was hurt emotionally. He had witnessed the painful first signs of withdrawal when his previous handler had withheld the drug deeming his performance less than adequate.
On the other hand he knew it was not the Guardian's fault. He had made the decision and blaming his loss on the Guardian was childish and unbecoming of an officer. The Guardian had done what he was told, he had earned his relief.
But the thought of keeping him drugged went against what he believed in. He also didn't think someone addicted to drugs could be trusted. Still, he had no idea what would happen when the drug was withheld. Obviously it would get worse.
"Are you sure?"
No sound, just a quick nod.
"I understand it can be bad. Maybe it would be better if you returned to GCAT. They know what to expect." Hope flared. He would be rid of the Guardian.
Chief clenched his fists. "No." There was panic in that one word. "No." This time he was a little calmer. "They're the ones who done this. They won't never let me go. Just … Full Guardian .."he shuddered "Control 'n lock me in the wood shed."
"No."
Chief looked him in the eye for the first time, a look of horror on his face. He quickly looked away as he licked dry lips. The worst thing that could happen just had. Garrison now knew that he wanted and what. Garrison would now use that against him. Do whatever he said and he would think about stopping the drug use. He had taken the chance and lost.
"Look," said Garrison gently, "I don't know much about what will happen but I can't chain you." Iamello had demonstrated the different levels of Control. What Chief was requesting involved chaining his wrists and his ankles together with a short adjustable length of chain also attached to the collar. The though of doing this to another human being, even a Guardian, went against his own morals. Even if he didn't like the man he still could not do that to him.
"For my own good." The words were forced out between clenched teeth.
"There must be another way. Give me a few minutes. I'll make some calls, see what I can find out."
"Don't call 'em," he begged. "Please, don't call GCAT. They find out, they'll take me back. I won't never get free." He was on his way to full panic. "Only other way, … jus' shoot me." His breath caught as a tremor ran through his body. "Then id be over."
"No. Let me see what I can find out. There must be a way to get you through it."
A shake of his head, "I'm gonna die. That's what happens." The panic began to grow. As soon as he said it he knew he shouldn't have. Garrison would never let him die.
"Come. Let's get you settled. I want to talk to Actor. Maybe he knows what will help." He stepped toward the door reaching out with his hand as a show of support. Chief paused then followed.
"How do you feel?"
The answer was a wordless grunt but at least he had responded. Personally Garrison thought he looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards then run through a wringer. After hours of sitting with him listening to him rant and rave, cry and curse, watched the pain wrack his body, he knew he looked almost as bad. Actor had spelled him every few hours but it had not helped. Chief had just gone through hell and he had had to sit and watch him. He did not want to ever go through that again. He could only hope Chief was over the worst of it.
If only the man would sleep. Instead he had remained awake and tormented for the last fifteen and a half hours. At one point Chief had sat huddled in a corner. He had drawn his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them, clutching his elbows so tight Garrison knew he'd leave marks. It was as if he was trying to keep from shaking apart. And he had shaken, violently.
Goniff had stopped by to offer Garrison some coffee and see if he could help. He had left but returned minutes later with a coffee cup and the rolled up newspaper. Chief took one look at the paper and tried to launch himself at what he perceived to be a threat. He had been beaten before. Fortunately for Goniff, Chief was unsteady and as he tried to stand he had lurched sideways and had fallen. By the time he got his balance and was on his feet Goniff was gone. Garrison intercepted the angry Guardian and managed to deflect him away from the door. After a good ten minutes of struggling Garrison finally manoeuvred him onto the bed but Chief had refused to remain still. He twisted away and ended up falling on the floor. He tried to get up but lost his balance and fell again, heavily.
Though sweating the man was shivering. He curled up hugging his arms to his chest and lay gasping as Garrison pulled the blanket from the bed and covered him. Then the fever had started and Chief had thrown off the covers and tried to climb out the window. Fortunately for Garrison Chief had been unable to manage, instead he had collapsed retching, again. The lingering smell only added to both of their discomfort.
Actor poked his head in the door. "Ready?"
Garrison nodded. "Chief? We're going to carry you into the bathroom. Get you cleaned up a bit. OK?"
A shake of his head and another groan did not deter the two men. They were sure the manic phase was over, at least they hoped. Chief tried to protest but he had little strength or will. He just wanted to die.
Chief was unable or unwilling to help. He was dead weight for the men who picked him up and carried him from the room. Once in the bathroom they removed his soiled clothes and placed him as gently as possible in the tub of warm water. He protested weakly, trying to push their hands away as the men began to sponge him down. When they leaned him forward they both saw the freshly healed skin on his back and the older scars beneath. His arms and legs also bore marks from restraints and what could only be abuse.
When they leaned him back against the end of the tub Chief relaxed and closed his eyes. Both older men, now quite wet from their bathing efforts leaned back from the tub, thinking they could relax too. They watched as Chief sank down into the tub until the water was up to his shoulders, then his chin, then up….
Both men sprang forward when Chief continued to sink down and the water covered his mouth and nose. They reached in and pulled him up. Their sudden action brought Chief back and he began to struggle to get free of the clutching hands that held him. Water flew in every direction as the two men tried to get a grip on the slippery man in the tub. Eventually they managed to haul him out of the tub and onto the floor where he curled up into a fetal position. Soaking wet and tired from the battle they covered him with towels. He relaxed and closed his eyes. The respite only lasted minutes before he began to shake. Without a word the two men bundled him up to take him back.
Suddenly their shivering dead weight turned into a fighting wild cat.
"No, Let me go. I'm not one of 'um. Put me down. Let go'a me. Noooo."
The sudden explosion almost caused the men to drop their bundle but they recovered before he hit the floor. In his depleted state he soon tired and was placed, sobbing, on a clean bed in another room. Again they took up their vigil.
It seemed the worst was passed. Now their charge lay on the bed eyes closed motionless except for his one foot that dangled over the side of the bed. Occasionally it twitched or his hand moved. He was still pale and sweating but the tortured look was easing.
It had taken Actor three days to manoeuvre the Guardian into a position so the two of them were alone. He wanted to talk without any interruptions and he knew the Guardian would be reluctant. Three days was not a lot of time for him to recover from the drug withdrawal but he needed answers.
"I don't know much about the Compliance drugs you were given but there is something I must ask." Though Actor was looking out across the courtyard he had positioned himself so he could see the young man out of the corner of his eye. Initially there was no reaction as he had approached but when he spoke he saw the young man stiffen. "While under its influence, does it affect your memory? Do you remember what you did?" He tried to say it casually but the look of horror, then shame and anguish broke Actors heart.
Dear God in Heaven, Actor thought, he remembers what happened. How will he live with that. He was having enough trouble with the words he had heard, "Please," Would he survive if he had had to live it?
He remembered his little brother, Antony. He was a small child, small boned, delicate but such a happy child until he had started school. Some of the other children had picked on him. They called him Annetta. There were times when he had come home with bloody knees and once a bloody nose. He said he fell. Actor had found the boy who was responsible, the priests nephew and had told him to leave Antony alone but the bullying had increased. He had tried to protect him but he could not be there all the time. Antony had become withdrawn, his grades fell. When Antony was nine Actor had heard him wish upon a falling star that he could be as big and as strong as his brother so the others would leave him alone. It broke his heart. On his twelfth birthday he had had enough. Their mother had found him hanging in the back yard. The note said he was sorry but he could not live like this any more. There was nothing he could do to please the bullies and he would try no more.
This was bad enough but the priest, who knew what his nephew had done, refused to bury the boy in the church yard because suicide was a sin. Their mother was changed forever and the family began to drift apart.
All this ran through his mind as he tried to keep his face neutral as if he was asking about the weather but the thought of how the Guardian was having to put up with this treatment was just too much. Some of it must have leaked through.
Chief heard the words, saw the neutral look but the pain was too fresh, the memories too close. The withdrawal from the drug had left him an emotional wreck as well as physically drained. He felt the emotions and pain well up, breaking through his mask.
Oh God, he thought, Actor knows. How could he look at him, how could he stand to be near him knowing what he had done, how he had had to crawled and beg. How could he even talk to him. He was the most useless piece of shit on earth. Then it hit him so hard he though he was going to be physically sick. Maybe he was going to be the one to with hold the drug ….. His stomach clenched and he thought he was going to be sick. He wanted to run but he was trapped.
Actor cursed himself. What had he done, reminding the poor man so recently traumatized? It had come out all wrong. He had to correct his mistake? "I meant your training. Have you forgotten."
Again another mistake as the Guardian dropped to his knees. He obviously though he was referring to his Guardian training. Every thing he said came out wrong. The man was a mine field.
"No Chief, I don't mean that." He reached down to help the man to his feet. "I meant weapons training, German insignias, German words … All that training was done while you were under the influence. Tell you what. I will speak to the Lt. and arrange to go over it with you. Just to make sure you remember."
Chief panicked. Was that how he was going to do it? Tell him it was training and then …
Actor watched the Guardian's eye grow wide with fear. "It will be all right. I just want to help you. If you are worried about Garrison, we do not have to tell him."
Chief's anger flared. There was no drug in his system now. Nothing to make him do that EVER again. He would kill anyone who tried to. No one would ever make him beg again.
Actor watched the fear suddenly replaced by anger. He knew about the reputation Guardians had regarding rage. They would lash out at who ever was bothering them or who ever was handy. Only a trained Handler could control a Guardian in Rage. He had to do something.
"I am sorry." Actor lowered his head and began to back up. "I did not mean to upset you. I merely wanted to make sure you were all right. If you had forgotten the training you could be injured when we are on a mission. I do not want that to happen. I am sorry I bothered you. I will not bother you again. Please forgive me." He continued to step back, eyes still on the ground.
Chief was still angry but now confused. No one had ever said they were sorry to him. No one had ever cared about his well being except Goyen. Forgive him? For what? Had he realized that Chief would not co operate with his sick pleasures without the drug, or had Chief misjudged him. He didn't know. He was so confused.
He watched as Actor backed away and left. Chief stepped up to the railing and looked over. It was only a short drop, not enough to kill him. He was so confused and lost. What was he supposed to do? If Goyen was here she would know. What would she tell him? She would help him. She had always helped him. Until that day … He had always listened to her and life was good, until that day, and now look what had happened. He though back to those happier times.
"Listen to your heart. You have a good heart. It will tell you what to do. Because you are an Apache warrior you are strong. Feel the strength that flows through your blood. It matters not who your parents were, it matters who you are. You are N'Kia! Apache Warrior! You are strong and brave. Never forget that. Where ever you go. You are the great cat. Though you travel alone, you are strong. You will survive.
Oh Usen, he hoped she was right. He needed that strength now. He turned and went back inside.
Actor considered what had happened. He would have to be careful around the young man. Now, at this point in time, it would be so easy to alienate him or befriend him. A wrong word could send him either way. A mine field for sure. He wondered which way Garrison was planning or would he blunder on as well. Should he speak to their supposed leader or let him find out for himself? Waiting and watching would reveal what kind of man he really was, but a pooling of resources might prevent a future problem. It would also put him on a better footing with the Warden. For now he would wait and watch.