Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi or Radiohead. So, not my problem.
A/N: I'm really excited about this story since it seems to fit so well with the music, like everything else in this collection. Again, please visit my profile page for the playlist link to all the music mentioned. As always, read, review and enjoy!
"(Nice Dream)"; The Bends
The sun beamed on his back as he rested late into the morning, coating it with the warmth that only went skin deep. He could tell it was nearly noon by its position, tossing back the covers from his legs and walking downstairs to the sounds of his children filtering in and out of the kitchen and their playroom. He searched around for their mother, finding her with her hips swaying to a song on the radio, an old Eric Clapton tune. He slid his arm around her waist, leaning in. "Hey."
"Good, you're up. I made some lunch if you're hungry." She had some flour on her cheek, wiping it off with the back of his hand, regretting it immediately as she looked like a vision of Susie Homemaker, donning an apron. "Sorry, I was trying to make some cookies, but the flour exploded in my face when I opened the bag."
"It's fine. You look cute." He closed his eyes as a tremble went up his spine, knowing it was time to take his medication. Over the past few weeks since the incident, his healing had gone well enough to not wear his head dressing anymore. He still needed the painkillers, but for the most part, the healing was over. He walked into the downstairs bathroom, reaching up for his pills when he looked in the mirror. He glared at the dark and heavy circles around his eyes, mostly due to the frequent night terrors that found him in the dark crevices in their bedroom, waiting to pounce on the daft victim, overcoming the drowsiness the medication promised. He needed to gather his strength to fight them, but he simply bent to their will, allowing them to control his sleeping pattern and induce hours of mind trickery. He splashed some water over his face, hoping to wake himself. He felt like a zombie, a shell of a man he pretended to be. He was a master at charades, creating illusions he trained everyone to become familiar with, but even he was slipping up, losing at his own game. It was only Ellie that really saw his missteps, his clumsy falls and his sloppy mistakes. Hopefully, he could get a grip of them once more, become himself again, if he even knew who that was.
He looked into the mirror again before taking a handful of assorted pills, feeling them making their way down his throat. He could taste its chalky flavor, the bitter bile that often followed. He tried to remember to breath through his nose, the ritual as familiar as his reflection, leaning on his optical twin for support. Glancing one last time, he another face greeted him with such stark imagery, he jumped back into the toilet, the lid slamming down.
"You doing okay in there?" He could hear her concerned voice through the door, knowing she was worried about his medicine dosage. He had been careful not to overdose, taking the right amount. He had beaten off most of the dark figures the last few nights, getting some sleep, but with the missing sleep over the past weeks, he still needed to catch up.
"Yeah, I'll be right out." He stood back up, griping the sink in an involuntary spasm flexed through his arms, before sitting on the rim of the tub, taking another breath. His migraines had all but stopped, with the less exercise and strain, but the anxiety stayed. The guilt he felt with Ellie's worrisome act, she needing to watch him along with their children, but there was only so much he could do. He checked behind him reflexively, seeing nothing but the toilet and small cabinet filled of toiletries. Shotgunning his final three pills, he opened the door swiftly, nearly running from the ghosts of his past, spying his wife across the room, leaning over as Taylor was coloring. Zooey was sitting on the computer, playing a game, giggling at a joke that the computerized cartoon made. He paused, observing the seemingly happy family in front of him, emotion overwhelming him. How could he deny them? The sudden nausea that often found him took a toll as he grabbed his coat, needing to escape the perfection he knew he could never measure up against. "Hey, I'm gonna take a walk."
Ellie shot up, looking concerned. "You okay?"
He knew the last time he said he was going for a walk, he came back looking like the a meat market's chopping block but he nodded, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be right back. Just a walk around the backyard and field. I'll be back in a little bit." He patted Taylor on the head when he slipped out the back sliding doors, his curls reminding him of his own. Zipping up his jacket, he admired the changing leaves around him falling off the trees, making room for the snow that would eventually cover the branches in a few weeks. With the holidays on the horizon, it was only a matter of time that the stresses of the holiday would officially set in. He seemed apprehensive, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop while he walked around, unsure if he was being followed by someone or his own shadows, playing tricks on him as always. It was different than before, the flashes of his face catching him suddenly, usually with a smile. As much as he told himself he was over his death, that he could face his father's legacy with his head held high, memories horned from decades of burying. He loved his father, and he had forgiven him, but it was the weakness, the helplessness that found him haunted by his past.
They love me like I was a brother
They protect me, listen to me
They dug me my very own garden
Gave me sunshine, made me happy
He craved to be on stage again, the power he possessed, the adrenaline that surged through him as he sang and danced and got lost in his own words and lights. He missed being able to disappear in front of thousands of fans, only his music being his identity. He would strum his guitar for hours a day to try and ignite that spark, but it was never enough. He began to resent the house, a comfortable prison which seemed to suck out his motivation to write, only getting the resemblance of creativity during the few moments of being high under the new medication. He shook the thrill they caused, focusing on the house that stood in the distance. He didn't want to blame it, but with everything that seemed to cling to its walls, the dark figures in the night and the blockage that only made it breathe more, he felt unable to get a release. He seemed trapped, knowing that only within minutes of traveling around, he would be spotted by the paparazzi, only making it more difficult to be somewhat normal.
Ellie turned over, looking at him still awake, watching the shadow play on the ceiling. "Anything up there I should know about?" She moved closer to him, trying to make out what had caught his attention.
"No. Nothing to worry about." He answered more reserved than usual, more defensive as he continued to look above.
"But I do worry, all the time." She sat up slightly, looking at him more directly. "This isn't normal, Craig. You have to try to get some sleep. You've been sluggish all week, not eating your breakfast. I need you to keep your strength." She cleared her throat, looking shamefaced before turning to him again. "Have you been taking your medication?"
"Of course I have." He couldn't tell her that he was more reliant on them than her these days. He had been so completely devoted to them, he wouldn't do anything, not even play or write before taking them. He had become obsessed with his new pain killers most of all, the numbing effect on the bruised ribs, evolving the constant throbbing into a gentle nudge every once in a while. They didn't always fight off the night terrors, but they kept the triggers away, allowing him to have some semblance of a normal sleeping pattern. He could feel sleep coming, but Ellie distracted him with her concerned stares and troublesome confessions. He knew she meant well, but he needed her to let him figure this one on his own. "Ellie, I'm fine. Just let me get some sleep, please."
Ellie nodded, turning on her side facing away from him. "Good night."
He wanted to pull her into his arms, but the space was needed. He knew she meant well, but he had to figure this out on his own. He struggled to find sleep again, the aches of anxiety showing its ugly face, the smirks of a deceased that long left this world, forming pictures across the ceiling, descending on the shadows of his bed, crawling up his feet and reaching closer, the coolness grabbing him and shaking him from his own delusions into this tortured realm of haunts and ghosts of the past. But it wasn't what made him ache. There were times that his visions brought some form of welcome, as if his father presence resolved a pang he never knew existed. He hated the conundrum, the ravaged loneliness of missing him and fearing him, an internal struggle that he couldn't fight alone. Staggering up from the bed, drunk with the notion of fighting, he rummaged through the medicine cabinet, finding the small white pills and taking a handful. Looking back into the mirror, he could breathe.
Nice dream, nice dream
Over the past few days, Ellie had been distant on the issue of his medication, knowing that his prescription was almost finished. She doubted that he needed another one, considering that he had been without bandages for over two weeks and that he had been doing better with the nightmares, screaming less when he did fall asleep and even going as far as going to bed early. She wanted to believe he was doing well on his own, but she seldom saw him playing on his guitar in the last week, knowing something was distracting him. She couldn't figure it out, but knew they had to go to the doctor tomorrow to see if he didn't need a refill. She hoped that they could put this whole mess behind them sooner rather than later, looking to find any excuse to start over again, a fresh new beginning.
"Hey." She poked her head into his office, seeing him fiddling with his notebook on the couch, a blank sheet in front of him. "You all packed for tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I actually scheduled a meeting after the doctor's appointment that might be all day so if you want, you can head home after and I can just come up and meet you later."
"Oh, well, I guess that sounds okay." She smirked before sitting next to him, scooting closer. He had been timid recently, affectionate, but easy to recoil. She tentatively rubbed his knee, reciprocating the smile he was giving her. "Are you sure? I can bring the kids with us and we can get a room or something, maybe spend the day in Central Park and visit Marco. He hasn't seen the kids in a while. I'm sure he'd love--" She paused when he stood up, walking over to his desk.
"Yeah, that sounds really nice, but I won't be around the entire time. I'll be at the label all day and most likely through the night. I don't think it's a good idea to go through all that and I won't be around to enjoy any of it." He looked through the blinds, not looking at anything, trying to distract himself from the persistent tremor crawling under his shoulder blade.
Ellie joined him at the window, instinctively rubbing his back. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Sorry I suggested it." Ellie nodded before turning when Craig had caught her hand. He pulled her closer to him, bringing her into his arms.
He held her, feeling sickeningly cruel, lying to her like he was. He hadn't lied to her like this in years, not even through their entire marriage, and yet, here he was, fighting with himself over an old sickness. "I promise, we can have a nice day in New York, once the heat dies down and I'm in better shape."
"Okay." She held him longer, hoping she could feel what he was keeping from her in his arms. She used to be able to see when he was lying, even when she didn't want to believe he was. She wanted to believe everything was the truth. She was always gullible with him, making herself feel foolish whenever she ended up being wrong with him, when she would have easily spotted it within another. It was the effect Craig had on her. He always had that way about him, with everyone, especially her. They both knew why, even though they'd never admit, even marriage couldn't give them the will to admit their weaknesses for each other. "I'll call a car for tomorrow than". She left the room, unsure if she should have or not.
He heard her down the hall before going back to the bottle that rested in his pocket. He looked down at the label, reading it again as if to memorize. He had finished his pain killers four days ago and was going up the walls with withdraws. He had been pining for an excuse to take off and find some drugs, but he needed to get the prescription from the doctor before he did something illegal. Just a few more hours and he would be reunited with his precious pills, one way or another.
Nice dream
The flight to New York was a quiet one. Taylor had gotten into the habit of sleeping in their bed whenever he got scared in the middle of the night leaving Craig with few choices in falling asleep after the third time he found his son's foot near his mouth, looking to the stars for guidelines. He failed at being the good man he had come to be when he surrounded to his addictive personality, so easily entranced by third-party substitutes to evade him from pains of yesteryear. He thought of Ellie, snoring soundly before he left that morning, another round of guilt penetrating him while he left toward the city they both missed. They had both agreed to return to Toronto when they started a family, knowing the city wasn't a good place to start one and wanting them to be Canadian citizens like them. But they both longed for the lights and hunger that roamed its streets, the uncertainty that each day brought and the reassurance that life could start fresh.
As he waited in the doctor's office, Craig ignored the dryness of his mouth, trying to stay cognizant to his surroundings with the hunger for the pills growing stronger. He had heard the doctor had cleared his schedule on his own accord, not wanting to bring any unnecessary attention to him, but he simply wanted an answer. "How did the x-rays come out?"
"Oh, we'll get the results in a moment from the lab." He wheeled his chair closer to him, looking over his chart. "But there are a few questions I need to ask. It looks like you haven't taken your Demerol in a few days. Was there something wrong?"
"How would you know that?" Craig bit his lip, regretting it as soon as it left his mouth. "I mean, yeah, I haven't taken it in a few days but--"
"The beauty of urine samples. We can tell exactly what you've been doing, eating or drinking. And it should be more of an impression, but it seems to very nearly pass through your system. Now--" He was interrupted by an intern with his results. "Ah, here we are. Let's see how things went." He looked them over toward the fluorescent bulbs, nodding. "Well, it looks like most of your bones are setting properly and very nearly healed. I think we can take you off of the medication now anyway. I can ween you unto a sister drug until you've fully recovered. A simple prescription of Advil should do the trick." He scribbled something on a pad, ripping it off and handing it to him. "If you have any other questions..."
Craig could feel his sweat glands go into overdrive, the worry hitting a zenith as he realized that there would be no refill, having to go through with his "meeting". He pulled at a loose thread on his jeans, unable to make eye contact with the physician without fear of confessing, or have his eyes do it for him. "Uh, no. I think that's it if you think that'll take care of anything."
"Are you sure? You're not having any other concerns? Are you still feeling any pain or any bleeding you wanna tell me about?"
"No. I think that takes care of everything." He knew he couldn't bluff anything else. He would be in the hospital for more tests, more probing and getting closer to his secrets that were left better in the dark. "Yeah, so if I'm finished, I have a meeting I need to get to in about an hour." He checked his watch again, seeing it was nearly three. "Thanks for everything, Doc."
"No problem, Mr. Manning. If you need anything at all, just give me a ring." He smiled again, one of those flawless ones that only dentists and doctors played by overly buff soap opera actors could produce. He had a sneaking suspension that he was mistaken for one several times, even asked to play one, but he let him keep his dignity, nodding as he was escorted back to his security detail in the lobby. Smiling at the pleasant receptionist, he followed his bodyguards to the elevator.
I call up my friend, the good angel
But she's out with her answerphone
She says she would love to come help but
The sea would electrocute us all
The car pulled over to the curb in front of a building in Chelsea, seeing its mirrored glass reflecting off the rooftops of the grimy streets that New York inhabited. He walked in with his two bodyguards, looking awkward with all the extra baggage. He was never one to have such detail but the label insisted after the incident, not wanting anything to happen to him before he made his comeback that following February. As soon as they sat down at the table, he noticed a tall man come through the door, looking for the restroom. Craig recognized the walk right away, excusing himself from the table. He casually followed the man into the room, clearing his throat. "Hey Jay."
"Shh, I told you not to call me by my real name, man." He checked the stalls, seeing it was clear before turning around, a smug look on his face. "How's it going, man?" He extended his hand, Craig taking it.
"Obviously not that great, since I had to call you." He chuckled, digging his hands in his pockets. "When did you move here anyway?"
"A while back. After all that shit that went down a few years ago, I found the States to be a more... lucrative syndicate, if you know what I mean." He looked Craig up and down again, shaking his head. "I guess old habits are hard to break, eh?"
Nice dream, nice dream
Nice dream, nice dream
"Yeah, I guess." He was getting more anxious, worried that his detail would start getting concerned and start looking for him. "Look, I don't have much time to catch up, so do you have it?"
"Easy, home slice. Is this the way you take care of business? No wonder you got your ass kicked a few weeks ago."
"Look, man. Do you have it or not? I can go anywhere. I was trying to do you a favor since I know you and--"
"Oh, you're doing me a favor? Oh I see, so I'm the one with the itch that needs to get scratched, right? Funny, thought I was the one that had--"
"Oh my God, would you just shut the fuck up and give me it to me!" He wanted to punch him in the face than, not thinking of his raised voice or the people just on the other side of the door. Jay had what he needed, craved for the past four days and he just wanted it. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just been really stressful and--"
"Whatever." He pulled a few small sacks, tossing the across the room, landing near Craig's hands. "That'll be $1500."
"Here." Craig tossed his a wad of cash, not counting it. "Thanks." He stuffed two out of the three bags in his pockets, opening up the other one and taking three pills at once, praying they would take effect soon. "Thanks, man."
Nice dream, nice dream
Nice dream
"No prob, Manning." Jay counted the money, nodding. "I'll get a new shipment in at the end of the month. If you can hold of until than, I can have one of my guys send you some there--"
"Are you kidding? I can't have anybody remotely connected to you around my family. Just... I'll come down here. I come down here all the time since the label is here."
"Right, I forgot. Big family man now. Can't have the little wifie knowing her husband is on the mend again." He smirked to himself. "I always had a little thing for the redhead anyway. How's she doing anyway?"
"Shut up, Jay." He scoffed before leaving the room, seeing one of his bodyguards looking suspicious. "Sorry, got a little car sick. Still nauseous from the flight." He shrugged as he watched Jay leave the restaurant out of the corner of his eye. "But don't let that stop you from getting something to eat." He leaned back, the medication slowly passing through his bloodstream, giving him the high he sorely missed.
If you think that you're strong enough
If you think you belong enough
If you think that you're strong enough
If you think you belong enough
The flight was delayed, not getting him home until nearly the kids bedtime, seeing Ellie with her messy ponytail, cleaning a spill Zooey most likely made, inheriting her mother's clumsiness. "Hey."
Ellie turned, some miscellaneous food on her neck and shirt, looking more stunning that he could ever imagine. "Hey." She walked over, kissing him on the cheek. "They're a little wound up. Patricia made them cupcakes, so you know..." She rolled her eyes, thinking their nanny wasn't the best they could do. "Anyway, they've been a little hard to put down tonight." She turned to Craig, finding him behind Taylor before he picked him up, scooping up Zooey with his other arm.
"Come on, you two." He screamed over their screaming, playfully walking like a dinosaur, stomping his feet as they went up the stairs.
Ellie watched as they left, doing her best to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, that uncertainty that always worked against her trust, what treaded the waters, never breaking the surface. She followed them after cleaning up the kitchen, discovering Craig tucking in Taylor while Zooey's room was already closed for the evening. Humming softly to his son, he was the vision of the man she had always knew he was capable of being. Waiting by the door, she took his hand as he left, walking to their room. "Thank you."
"Of course." He striped his shirt from his back, sweat coming off. He hoped it was unnoticed, walking into the bathroom before Ellie could. He pulled out the last bag of pills from his pocket, knowing the other two were well hidden in his suitcase. He stuffed it in his sock, putting it in his shoe and walking back out. "Hey."
Ellie laid on her back, clothes still on and drifting in and out of a deep slumber. "Hey." She smiled as he walked toward her, lifting her head up slowly as they met at the knee. "How was your appointment?"
It was unfair that he had her. She was a blessing in every form of the word and he felt more out of place in the room with her glow overcasting the darkness that cloaked his shoulders, draping and dragging him deeper into the past. He wanted to hold her, get lost in her light and disappear in it. If only she knew what a pathetic excuse of a man he was. If only she knew that she loved a false man. If only he had the heart to tell her, too selfish to not have her as his own. Instead, he pulled at her food-stained tee, revealing her porcelain complexion, kissing her collarbone. "Well enough to do this without pain." He undid her button on her jeans, kissing between her breasts, getting lost in the dream of her existence, her heavenly moan as their bodies collide. He opened his eyes, hers meeting his as they both reached their climax together, never shutting him out. She was so open, and still after all these years, he felt himself shutting down, only thinking about what lied in his shoe, footprints of a path he wasn't ready to follow, knowing that he didn't have a choice. Not anymore.
Nice dream, nice dream
Nice dream, nice dream
More to come... MrsBigTuna