The Best Medicine

So my friend (who played it off as someone else) wrote a fanfiction based off a roleplay we did on tumblr; left me feeling like a total blushnerd. I guess this my way of getting payback.

Start

It was dark in his office, save for a small lamp on his desk. It illuminated only enough of the room; and especially the bottle of Scotch and near empty glass that sat in front of him. It was that day; a day he remembered all too well, a day that haunted him even now. A solidary hand ghosted over the glass and with one swift movement, he emptied the glass. With another movement, the glass was nearly full once more, and the bottle of Scotch was a little emptier.

He snorted. Empty. That was a word he knew well. It usually spelled trouble for him as a bartender. An empty bottle meant he was out for a while and business would wane a bit. Right now, as he sat in the darkness of his office, he felt empty; a byproduct of business that went wrong. Clearly he needed to take better stock of his emotions, less he forget what they were.

His hand ghosted over the drink once more, and soon the glass was emptier, and memories continued to flood into his mind; a reminder of his own failures, and price he paid for his own avarice. Even now, as successful as he was, his success was built on the bloodied dream. It was this day he mourned the loss of someone he looked up to, someone he got killed.

And the price of living was the burden of carrying on the dream of two people; his own, and the fallen.

"Shen…" he whispered, almost pleading. "Forgive me…"

::::

Yang entered the club with a grin on her face, "Guess whose back!" She announced. She pouted when several Junior's men just gave a half-hearted greeting. "Hey, what's wrong with you guys?" It was rather odd, even for Club Black Bear. They were working rather meticulously; almost robotic, making sure the club was cleaned and properly stocked for business tonight.

"It's that time of year again," Yang turned to the owner of the voice. Medium length black hair, red eyes that were usually hidden behind a pair of sunglasses…though his usual snarky grin was missing as he addressed Yang. He was oddly serious which set her on edge. "You can feel it can you? The heaviness in the air; the melancholic tension that seems to permeate the club?"

"That's…oddly dark and…poetic, even for you Steve," Yang replied with a frown. "Now that you mention it…" She looked around. "Where's Hei?"

"In his office, drinking himself into a unconscious stupor, like he does every year." Steve replied back with a sigh. "Like I said, it's that time of year again, and he gets like this. And everyone in the Club can feel it."

Yang frown deepened. She knew Hei drunk on occasion; He's a bartender, and he has to know what his drinks taste like, so that was a given, and even if he wasn't drinking to test drinks, he enjoyed a good drink or two. Hearing that he was drinking himself unconscious didn't sit well with her. It reminded her of her father; a wonderful man he was, that much is true. He just drank a lot to hide the pain of losing two wives, two loves of his life. His drinking didn't make for the best childhood nor it was the worse either.

In any case, the thought of her lover drinking himself like that set her blood aflame. She turned to Steve. She didn't even need to say a word as Steve only nodded and moved out of her way as she made her way through the back to Hei's hidden apartment. People who frequent the bar think that his office was back there, which was true; he did own an office. However, he took it one step further and built an entire apartment in the back, saving himself money on renting a place and paying on the utilities – it was all accrued in the Club's expenses and nobody was the wiser.

Yang entered the apartment, noting how dark it was. She could see a bit of light emanating from the slightly ajar office door. She silently moved over to the door and pushed it open. "Hei…?" She quietly called out to him.

"Oh…Yang…hey…" He replied quietly. There was a noticeable slur to his words, yet it was coherent enough for her to understand. She entered the room and there he was, sitting in the darkness of his office, a bottle of Scotch half empty and an empty glass in front of him.

She moved over to him. "Hei, you need to stop." She commanded.

"I…I can stop…but I need thish," he replied as he went to refill his glass.

"No…you don't." She said gently stopping his hands. "You need a lot of things, Hei, this is not one of them."

"Y-You don't undershtand…it'sh my fault." He told her.

"It's not your fault, love."

"It ish my fault!" He snapped, looking at her. She could see tears dripping from his eyes. "I gave him that information! I told him it wash okay! And then he…and then he…" he slowly broke down. "I got him killed Yang! The man I looked up to ash a brother, the man who taught me sho much…I got him killed."

Yang slapped him, causing him to blink at her in shocked. "It's not your fault Hei. You act like bad Intel doesn't happen. It happens in both our line of work, both as an informant and a huntress! We try our best to do what we can, but these things happen! And we can't…we can't blame ourselves for it." She gently pulled him into a hug. "So please…don't blame yourself, and don't drink…not like this…" tears began to fall from her eyes. "I can't handle two men in my life killing themselves slowly like this…"

Hei just returned the hug, the tears falling from his eyes. And as they held each other, in the darkness of the office, Hei didn't feel as empty anymore. He had her, and that was fulfilling enough as is.

A wise physician said, "The best medicine for people is love." Someone asked, "If it doesn't work?" He smiled and answered, "Increase the dose."

End