Chapter Ten
What's next. Joan made it sound so simple, so possible, but on the car ride to Annie's apartment that phrase haunted her. Annie stared straight ahead at the road, partially fearing the expression on Joan's face and partially to keep her nausea at bay. The withdrawal symptoms had become more tame with each passing hour but the constant dull throb in the back of her head and the nausea broken by her stomach cramping were beginning to make her feel tired again despite the short amount of time she'd been awake. It was draining to carry all of that around. In just one day she realized it was an exhausting way to live.
A throb of pain sent Annie's head down to rest in her hand. Her thumb and pointer finger gently rubbing her temples.
"The headache will last a few more days, the cramping will come and go, but the nausea will probably be gone when you wake up tomorrow," Joan's quiet assurance echoed in the SUV.
It was both comforting and disturbing how well Joan could read her. Annie took a deep breath and sat up straight, resting her head on the headrest.
"How long will I feel so tired that I can't function?"
"That is just as much a psychological symptom as a physical one. Unfortunately it will take longer to subside."
Annie swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Thankfully they pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex and Annie could redirect her brain power to the task at hand.
Dumping her stash.
Upstairs, Annie unlocked the door and tentatively stepped in. The disaster of the place was more than obvious. She instantly felt ashamed and wanted to push Joan out the door, but it was too late. The woman had seen it all.
"Sorry it's such a mess," Annie quietly apologized as her eyes swept over the clutter that the flat surfaces of her apartment had gathered in the weeks past. Glancing at her boss who had stepped into the middle of the living room she saw only compassion and concern. No judgment.
"It's not the mess I'm worried about," Joan assured her.
Annie watched the older blonde bend and reach down to pick something up off the coffee table. As she stood to full height, Annie saw what she was holding and felt like she would faint. Joan lifted the syringe and looked completely stunned.
"I'm more worried about this."
Her soft blue eyes bent in concern and sought to meet Annie's brown ones. Annie quickly looked away. She had already told Joan she'd shot up once, but that didn't mean it felt right for her boss to find another syringe just sitting out on her table.
Speaking in a calming voice Joan attempted to curb the girl's shame.
"I'm not going to lie and say I'm not disappointed in you. I am. But I'm not angry. I'm worried and I am sorry if my fear came across as anger or judgment at any point. I have no place to judge." Joan squeezed Annie's arm lightly and waited for Annie to meet her eyes. "This…" she said and held up the syringe, "is not what will define you. It won't determine your future unless you let it."
Annie nodded and took a deep breath. Walking into the kitchen, she opened the cabinet under the sink. Her fingers deftly found the package velcroed to the roof of the wooden cabinet. Removing it, she held the box out to Joan. Keeping eye contact, Joan took the box and opened it to find a pill bottle and more syringes.
Annie's shaky voice broke the silence.
"Jackson Colley."
Joan lifted her eyes to meet Annie's, her brow furrowed with confusion. The name didn't mean anything to her.
"He's my dealer," Annie added.
Joan nodded and lifted the pill bottle out of the box.
"I will deal with him."
After removing the cap she started the water in the sink and dumped the pills into the pipes where their potency would dissolve. Annie stood back and bit her lip. She wanted a new start, didn't want to detox again, but she feared what would happen when her thoughts became too much for her once more. How was she going to handle feeling all of the emotions and still survive? Already it didn't seem possible, and she'd only been clean for a few hours.
Joan took the syringes apart and spoke again to the stunned blonde standing behind her.
"Is this everything, Annie?"
Her question met with silence, she spun around to face her young operative, eyes drilling into Annie.
"Annie, is this everything?"
The girl nodded, her eyes bouncing from the floor to the containers on the counter but never meeting Joan's gaze.
Joan let out a disappointed sigh. She recognized a liar when she saw one. Walking across the kitchen she retrieved one container much to the dismay of the young woman standing across from her. A quick glance inside revealed only sugar, so Joan pulled another one from the counter. When she pulled the lid off of that one she found more than simply flour. Stepping back towards her horrified operative, she placed the porcelain pot in Annie's shaking hands.
"Ultimately, this has to be your decision. I cannot force you to change your life, but I will always offer you an opportunity and a path out of whatever mess you find yourself in. That's a promise."
The sincerity in Joan's voice gave Annie strength and confidence to finally meet Joan's gaze. She opened the pot and fished the bottle from the flour. This time she opened it herself and dumped it down the sink. Turning on the water she watched the liquid flow down, erasing the decisions that had led her to that point. A few moments later, Annie shut off the flow of water and planted her hands on either side of the sink. Her head hung low, she felt a sob threaten to surface. The gentle weight of Joan's hand on her shoulder gave the tears permission to fall. Annie mourned her losses until she was completely exhausted and utterly spent.
Joan led her to the couch and helped her settle down into the cushions. Reaching for a blanket thrown carelessly over the back of a nearby chair, Joan covered Annie and sat on the coffee table across from her.
"Annie, you need to sleep, and you need to clean…"
She waved her hand in a wide gesture that encompassed basically the entire apartment. Annie got the hint and shared a mutual snicker with Joan before the talk returned to a more serious tone.
"When you're ready, you need some form of professional and consistent help. I will be there to talk about what that might be if you need me. Take a few days leave. I will cover with Calder. When you're ready, you know where to find me. Just promise me we will never find ourselves here again."
Annie nodded weakly.
"I promise."
Exhaling quickly, Joan flattened her hands on her thighs and stood to her full height. As she turned to leave, Annie's small, weak voice stopped her.
"Joan…"
The older blonde turned and froze, almost waiting for Annie to tell her where another stash was hidden.
"I promise I will come in. Soon."
"I know, and I believe that you will keep that promise. Now go to sleep; I'm going to clean up a bit. Okay?"
Annie nodded and closed her eyes. Moments later Joan could tell she was already in a deep sleep. As quietly as possible, Joan gathered trash, folded clothes, and wiped down countertops. An hour after she had started, she snuck out the door as silently as she could. There was still a lot of work to be done in Annie's apartment, but at least she wouldn't wake up to such a colossal mess that it overwhelmed her.
Half an hour later, Joan pulled back into her driveway. The house was silent as she entered. It was late; Arthur and Mackenzie were in bed already.
Quietly she snuck into the nursery to see her son sleeping contently, peaceful in his crib. She rubbed her hand lightly over his soft head before heading towards her bedroom. Arthur sat on the bed reading, looking rather comfortable in his plaid pajama pants. When she entered he removed his glasses and set them and his book on the nightstand.
"How did it go?"
Joan sighed and kicked off her shoes before crawling into bed and laying her head on her husband's lap.
"Her stash is gone, and she's resting. I told her to come in when she was ready. I think I may have given her too much autonomy though."
"Annie is a smart girl, a stubborn girl, she will check in with you eventually. You forcing her would've done more harm than good."
Joan nodded. That was very true. A deadline could have forced Annie's hand and therefore her decision.
"Her dealer was Jackson Colley," Joan whispered.
Arthur pursed his lips and nodded.
"What are you going to do about him?"
Joan sat up and looked at her husband. A fierce light gleamed in her eyes.
"What am I going to do or what do I want to do?"
A smile flickered across Arthur's face. He rather enjoyed seeing her looking so righteously angry (as long as that anger wasn't directed at him of course). He cupped her face in his hand letting her lean on him.
"Either, although I am glad to know you're making a distinction."
"I have a friend in the FBI who would be more than happy to receive his name, location, and whatever evidence I can gather up to ensure his conviction."
Arthur let out a chuckle and kissed her forehead.
"Rossabi will be so excited to see you," he told her teasingly.
Joan grinned weakly and shook her head before sitting up a bit more so she could wiggle out of her dress. Instead of bothering to actually change, she simply settled under the covers. One of her hands still stayed firmly on Arthur's arm. She wasn't the one going through detox, but she still needed him. Arthur turned off the lamp, curled up beside her, and pulled her close.
"I'm proud of you, Joan. You and Annie."
Letting out a relieved sigh, Joan whispered, "I am too."