A/N: FYI, this is an angsty little chapter...
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Derek was sent out on a case that took all afternoon and most of the evening, and he didn't make it to Spencer's until late that night. He hurried up the stairs, not sure who--or what--would be waiting for him. But, it was Spencer who opened the door.
"Hi, Derek." He was pale and wan and the shadows under his eyes were darker than ever, but his shy smile looked genuine.
"Hey, kid. Can I come in?"
"Yeah, of course." Derek stepped inside and Spencer gestured to a chair. "Please, sit down." When they were both seated at the table, Spencer continued. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk the other day."
"It's ok. I'm sorry I walked out like that. I should have--"
"No, you were right to leave. I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about, and I've made a decision. I-I want to try."
"Try?"
"To get better. I keep thinking about what you asked me." His voice was soft, and the hum of the refrigerator and the chirping of a cricket were loud enough that Derek could barely hear him. He scooted his chair closer and got a whiff of alcohol.
"You been drinking, kid?"
Spencer shrugged and Derek picked up a juice glass with a small amount of clear liquid still in it and took a sniff. Vodka. He glanced around and saw a half-empty bottle on the kitchen counter. He shook his head, and asked, "Ok, remind me--what did I ask you?"
"You asked me what I wanted. You know, out of life. I've been asking myself that, over and over again." He looked at Derek and he noticed the boy's eyes were red. "And, now I think I know. I want... I want to go back to school. I want to do something good with my life--medical research, or teaching, or--or, something. Help people, somehow. And, I want to--I want to see my mom again. I haven't seen her in a long time. I write her letters, but it's not the same."
Derek figured he must have started drinking early in the afternoon, and braced himself for a crying jag. Nothing like a drunk on a crying jag.
"And..." Spencer really did look as if he were going to cry and he stared at Derek for a moment, then looked away.
"What, Spencer? What else do you want?"
"I want... I want to be your boyfriend." He glanced worriedly at him and looked away again. "I want to be... I want you to be proud of me. I want you to--" At this, he broke down and a sob escaped. Derek rolled his eyes, but went to him and put his arms around him.
"It's ok, it's ok. You know what? We can do that, we can do all of that. Don't worry, Spencer, I'm not going to give up on you. I'm not." He held him until the sobs slowed, and he got a kitchen towel and handed it to him and Spencer wiped his eyes and blew his nose. Suddenly, he looked ill and muttered, "Excuse me," and ran to the bathroom. Derek could hear him retching and he shook his head in annoyance.
Spencer returned looking even paler and he slumped down on the bed and held his head in his hands. Derek went to sit next to him.
"Damn, kid, how much have you had to drink?"
"Not much. Just that little glass."
Derek stared, irritated. "Don't lie to me. You don't get throwing-up drunk on one single juice glass."
Spencer raised his eyes, and to Derek's amazement, he looked ashamed. "That's not what's wrong."
"Then, what?"
"I-I haven't had a dose in three days, Derek. I'm in detox. And--it's getting bad. I thought maybe the booze would take the edge off."
Derek's eyebrows shot up. "Detox? God, Spencer--this isn't the way to do that, that's what clinics are for--"
"No. They're expensive, and anyway, I can do it on my own. I did it once before. I'm going to do it." The determination in his voice strengthened as he continued. "I-I thought I'd get clean and then I'd come to you and you'd see I was serious and that I didn't need a doctor. I was going to ask you if I could borrow some money to take care of my mom while I got a real job, and then, maybe I could go back to school part-time and--" He clutched his stomach and Derek could see beads of sweat on his forehead. He bolted back to the bathroom and Derek stood up, trying to think. When Spencer returned, he asked, "When's the last time you used?"
"Right after you left the other day. I was--I was so angry. Not with you. I just don't understand--I don't understand why things have to be so... I thought about taking everything I had and just--lying down, lying down to die.
"Then, I thought about my mom, and what you said--how there wouldn't be anyone to take care of her. When I, you know, came to, I realized that you were right--and, that I don't want to live like this anymore. I can't let Cassie get hurt again, either. That was my fault, all my fault.
"So, I dumped everything--the Dilaudid, the pills, all of it--and decided I wasn't going to leave the apartment until I was clean. It wasn't too bad until this afternoon. I started getting really sick. Now... I-I kind of wish I'd kept a dose or two."
"After you've come this far? No. Now, look, you don't have to do this alone. Let me find a place--"
Spencer shook his head. "I'm not leaving here. I can do this, Derek, I'm going to show you--I'll make you proud of me, I promise." He smiled past the pain that showed in his eyes and sat up straighter.
Derek's heart suddenly was filled with hope and respect, and then--almost as quickly--with dismay and apprehension. He slipped an arm around the boy's shoulders and spoke earnestly. "It's going to be hell, kid. I've seen this shit go down before--you're going to wish you were dead. This'd be a hell of a lot easier in a treatment center. But, if you're determined to stay here, then I'm going to stay with you. I'll be here every step of the way."
"You don't have to do that--"
"You're going to need help--I'm staying. You just have to remember that once you get past the next few days, it'll get better. And, once you get past a week, you'll be doing ok. And, then--then, we can figure out what to do, how to make things happen. We can do it, together. Right?"
Spencer gave a small nod and Derek went to get a cold cloth and some ibuprofen. He came back and brushed away the damp strands of hair clinging to Spencer's neck and replaced them with the cloth, then gave him the painkiller and some water. "You need to drink a lot of water, you need to stay hydrated."
Derek put on some music, lay down on the bed and took Spencer in his arms. Everything was still and quiet for a long time, then the boy's limbs began to shake, and he felt hot. Again and again, he would get up and race to the bathroom and come back looking drained.
He couldn't eat, and only drank water when Derek forced him. Sometimes, he'd prowl around the room as if he couldn't sit still, then he would curl up into a ball in the easy chair and moan. He would become racked with chills and protest when Derek tried to wrap a blanket around him, saying he couldn't stand to have anything touch him.
Then, he would burn up with fever, and allow Derek to lead him to the bathroom to splash his face with cool water. Once, in desperation, he turned the shower on himself, then screamed when the water hit him, as though a thousand knives were slicing through his skin. He collapsed, gasping on the shower floor, and begged Derek to turn it off.
That black night passed more slowly than any Derek could remember in his life, but he had to stay alert in case Spencer decided to give up and sneak out to score a fix. He wasn't going to let that happen, even if he had to sit on the kid and hold him down for hours.
When morning finally came, Derek got on the internet and read about non-narcotic sleep aids and natural cures for withdrawal. In spite of pleading protests, he made Spencer put on shoes and go with him to a nutrition center to buy some herbal remedies. Spencer looked like the walking dead, but when they returned, he obediently took the pills that Derek ordered him to.
After a while, he fell asleep, only to wake up after a few hours and go through it all again. Derek called in sick and stayed with him, watching him, forcing him to drink water, to take the herbs, then later, to swallow a little chicken broth, talking soothingly to him all the while.
In the afternoon, he persuaded the boy to go on a walk with him, wanting to get some sunshine on his face and to remind him what the "normal" daytime world looked like, and to plant some seeds for the future. He would point out things that he wanted Spencer to focus on and talk, talk, talk.
"Look, Spence, see the cat? Look at him, cute, huh? I bet we could get you a cat, would you like that?"
"No."
"Oh, sure you would. Or, maybe a dog? Look at that little guy barking behind that fence, he's funny, isn't he? Wouldn't you like to have a dog someday? I would. What kind of dog would you like, Spencer?"
And on and on and on, as if to a child.
Derek arranged to take off a few more days, claiming a family emergency, and he moved into Spencer's apartment, sleeping mostly in little bursts in the easy chair, or lying on the bed after holding Spencer through a spasm of violent shakes that rattled his frail body.
Then, one morning, Derek woke up and realized he'd slept through the entire night. Spencer was lying next to him, asleep, breathing easily. He scooted closer to him. The kid didn't smell good; in fact, the whole apartment had the sour smell of sweat and sickness hanging in the air, and Derek got up, turned on a fan and began opening windows.
Spencer woke up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Derek turned and smiled hopefully.
"Well, good morning, sunshine. How you feeling?"
"Ok." Spencer looked around, reminding Derek of a just-hatched baby bird, and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "God, I need a shower."
"Yeah, I'll second that." He watched Spencer pad off to the bathroom and heard the shower start. Derek flicked on the TV and found a morning news program, then put on coffee and sat at the table, trying not to get his hopes up too much.
When Spencer returned, wrapped in a towel, he stood tentatively at the edge of the kitchen.
"Derek?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Can we go to breakfast? I'm really hungry."
Derek felt relief well up in his throat, and he grinned. It was over. Thank God, it was over.
"Yeah, kid. Get dressed and I'll treat you to the biggest breakfast you ever saw."
Spencer smiled, a real smile. "Pancakes?"
"Anything you want."
"Ok." He did as instructed, feeling weak and shaky, but better. Better than he'd felt in a long time.
As they prepared to go out the door, Spencer threw his arms around Derek and hugged him as hard as he could.
Derek enveloped him in a bear hug, closed his eyes and murmured in his ear, "Proud of you, Spencer. So damn proud."
Spencer pulled back, looked at him and smiled crookedly. "You haven't seen anything yet, Derek. You just wait and see, I won't let you down. I won't--oh, hell."
He impulsively planted a kiss on Derek's mouth, and the bigger man smiled against his lips before returning it, long and slow and sweet...
They headed out into the warm Louisiana morning, each one feeling like he'd found something he'd thought was lost forever. They went into a good old-fashioned greasy-spoon diner and ordered the biggest breakfast either one had ever seen and began making plans for the future.
Together.
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