Despite the fact that I didn't care about Tyler telling me I was basically the sole parent of a large group of grown men of Monkeys, I still felt obligated to do something about it.

It shouldn't be this easy to fall back into this. Being so at ease with Tyler. Having him 'around' and calling the shots from the back seat. I feel I shouldn't be going along with any of this. Like I should feel bad about it and actually do something to get myself off and away from it all. I am Jack's lack of moral obligation.

"Sir" 1st Recruit is standing, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for me to acknowledge him from my seat at the kitchen table. I try to nod but my head's in my hands, so I grunt instead. "The house has been repaired. We're just waiting for that List you mentioned the other day". List? What list? What the hell is he on about? "The List of Materials you said we'd need for The Operation".

I have no clue what he's talking about. It's unsettling. I stall; "Oh. Oh yeah! Yeah, I'll, uh. I'll get it to you later. Tell everyone they can take a break. You've all been working non-stop for weeks". He wanders off telling the other Monkeys that they have some down time and barks orders at baby-faced newbies to get beer. They've yet to really be introduced to the ring...I feel like I should change that.

I get up from the table and stagger up to my room and into my medicine cabinet. My 'happy pills' still sitting in their tube, practically untouched. Shame I can't say the same for the aspirin. Picking the little orange cylinder I back up and sit on the closed toilet seat, staring at the label. Unnecessarily long chemical names and directions for use: Two per day. I unscrew the cap and hear that 'whoosh' as air comes out of the tube, I pick two of the vomit-green capsules and swallow them dry.

I couldn't feel anything for the rest of the day and I'm pretty sure I grinned like a goober for the whole of it, too.

I took the pills everyday, religiously, for the rest of the week. I stalled and made excuses about the list of materials and told Angel Face to get the Y Tyler and I had looked at ready to be used as a venue. Fight Club is more important to me than some extremist, anarchist plot. For the rest of the month I'm getting that building fixed, Fight Club is getting back on track and is taking pride of place of whatever fucked up Operation Tyler wants put in motion.

And I am getting rid of these fucking Monkeys.

I bark orders from the middle of the big hall; the Monkeys are boarding up the windows and sealing doors we don't need, the smaller rooms are being used to keep stores that can't fit into the house as well as some bunks for the over flow Monkeys that can't fit into the house, either. I don't feel bad about not helping, I feel like I'm on a mission to get these guys back on their own feet and not on their knees following some insane, pill-popping loon who can't tell if he's in his own body all the time or at any time for that matter. Much as I hate to admit it, Tyler's right, I'm really all they've got.

I have the weirdest dreams for a few nights. Mostly of things blowing up and shrapnel getting lodged in my eyes. Still taking the little green pills and Tyler has only appeared once in the corner of my eye. Like the flash of that dick in the kids' movie...kinda like back at the asylum when he started making a comeback.

"I am getting sick of this"
"Sick of what?" a female voice. Marla.

She's standing in the back doorway, facing me but looking around for Monkeys to come and 'get her' as she put it. She's wearing a nice black shirt and pants and her hair's messy. I like it when it's messy like that. Disorganised and frames her face a little.
"How're the meds treatin' you?" She asks as she sits down in the seat across from me at the kitchen table.
"They're doin' their job if that's what you're meaning".
"Sounds fun". She puts her hand on my folded arms on the table and pats it a few times before realising there's going to be an awkward silence and takes it back, hiding it under the table like there's a big, dirty mark on it.
"He's been gone for a few days you know" I say, "Tyler".

She nods her head up a little and it tilts to her left, my right, and I tell her about the nightmares and the flashes of Tyler out the corner of my eye, she doesn't say anything but she sits back in her seat and looks like she's thinking things over.

"When's your appointment?" She stares up at the scribbled over calander that now no longer seems to hold any dates.

"Next week"

"They gonna send you back?"

"Depends"

"How come I haven't heard from you?"
I'm a little shocked at this. Marla usually doesn't bother (or at least doesn't seem to be) about me. We didn't get much of a chance to get close before I was sent to the institute, even though for weeks – months beforehand when Fight Club started and the Groups finished, we'd been, as she put it; fucking. That was as far as we'd really gotten, we'd meet, with me as Tyler, they/we'd fuck and then I'd be me again in the morning and curse and throw her out.

"Been kinda busy."

"Can see that." She looks around, surprised at the cleanliness of the kitchen, scoffing at the towers of first aid kits on the counters.

We spend the afternoon walking around the back yard, no Monkeys in sight, talking about the last few weeks and my appointment the next. It's nice. It's 'normal'. It's a little too high school sweetheart for me, but it's calm and Marla's nothing like the Monkeys. She still has her own mind. The visit ends when I offer to take her for dinner. She's still going to Groups. Well, not so many as she was when I first met her. I'm tempted to join her, but the Monkeys start howling and I have to say goodbye on the promise of a phone call.


A/N: Very short chapter considering how long it's been since I last wrote anything to do with this. More to come, hopefully soon. Thanks for you're patience, again, especially to those who've been following for a while. Also a "Hello" to those just just joining.