TITLE: Break

NOTES: Would have posted this sooner but the site was playing up :(



CHAPTER FIVE ~ Push and Pull

"Humans can't seem to grasp the notion that delaying pain only prolongs it."

Elt Tiana, multi-species psychologist

CY 8221

^~*~^

"Do you believe me now? They both think you're weak. The others do too. They see you for who you really are, despite your best efforts to cover it up."

While Lane continued to drive, there was a battle going on in Harper's head. Pain versus peace. The choice seemed obvious when worded like that, but there were so many other elements to it. He had been clean for more than five years, why screw that up now? It wasn't for lack of opportunity that he had steered clear, there had been plenty of times where Harper could have brewed his own concoction in med-deck, just as Beka had done once before. His willpower had overcome temptation in those incidences, but this time Harper's will had been severely weakened by recent events.

The guilt was consuming, it wouldn't let him sleep, work or eat without thinking about all the trouble he had caused; all the lives that had been lost thanks to him. The suppressants seemed to be having very little effect, and now his friends saw him as weak. But guilt was no good reason to start that life over again. No matter what his friends thought of him now, he never wanted them to see him like that.

"They already see you the way I see you," Lane told him, once again reading his thoughts. Then the sentence that changed it all. "You have nothing left to lose."

It was the very same illusion that had coaxed Harper into starting up his dead-end habit way back when. It was the ideology that made him think 'why the hell not?'

If there was any time that Harper needed rescuing it was now. But with his convincing facade, no-one knew he was calling out.

^~*~^

The brisk chill of the night air warmed as morning came, and night irrevocably turned to day. Dylan's internal clock woke him seconds before his alarm did. Being an officer of the high-guard for goodness knows how many years had a way of burning a routine into your body. After the initial thoughts of waking - comfortable bed, what time is it, should I go back to sleep, and so on - memories of his surroundings and eventually the previous few days came flooding back. The Autriva investigation.

Today was the question sessions. He hesitated to use the term 'interrogation' because he definitely had some unpleasant recollections of a few of those.

Dressed and ready in minutes, Dylan left his room. Beka, who was two doors down, exited at the same time, clearly more punctual than he gave her credit for. Rommie and Trance were waiting for them.

"Any sign of Harper yet?" Dylan asked.

"Not yet."

"Well, let's go get him, shall we?"

The four knew nothing of the state their young friend was in. As consciousness came surging back to him, Harper's head swam, every noise resounded in his skull, not stopping when he clamped his hands around his head. The shock stopped him from screaming out loud, but even if he wanted to his mouth was so incredibly dry, the noise would have been hoarse and inaudible.

Three explosions of sound made Harper's body tense even more as he tried to scream, to get some of the pain out, but it wouldn't come. Gradually the explosions turned into bangs and the bangs into knocks - on the door. There were voices too, just jumbles of words at first, then he began to pick out sentences.

"Harper! Harper, if you don't open this door I will remove it from its hinges and leave

you with the repair bill."

It was Beka.

"Maybe he's still sleeping."

And Trance.

"We don't have time for this. The session starts in ten minutes. If he changes his mind, he knows where the Halls are."

And that would be Dylan, leaving.

Harper, while hearing each word with awful clarity, barely acknowledged their actual meaning. After his head was calming down, he felt his stomach convulse, forcing the wreck of a man out of bed. Harper fell to the floor and scrambled on his hands and knees to the en suite bathroom, where he was violently sick. This strangely made him feel slightly better.

"That's it, get the key from the manager." Beka said, aggravated.

Harper managed to haul himself off the floor to reach the sink taps, where he drank as

much water as he could before his neck began to cramp.

"Why don't we just break down the door?" Tyr, it seemed, had joined the little gathering.

"I was kidding about the door thing." Beka told Tyr. "We'll be the ones who end up paying for it."

"Actually this stay is all expenses paid."

"Really?"

Harper tried to speak again. It worked, for the most part, except no-one but himself could hear. Attempt two - "I'll be downstairs in a second."

Success. Harper barely recognised his own voice. His throat was still dry and scratched when he breathed. There was a moment of silence outside the door, then Beka replied "Okay," in an unsure kind of way. Trance put it down to a hangover, and Tyr couldn't care less.

Harper rested his head gently against the wall as his breathing returned to what would qualify as normal. His body ached, which stopped his mind from working properly. He remembered little of the previous night, but his room was in a state. One of the needles he vaguely recalled buying was gone, and the other two sat in their wallet, and called to him.

^~*~^

End of chapter five