Thank you for your reviews. It's gratifying to know that people are reading this, and not only that, but that they like it.
Please know that your comments are quite helpful to me.
As to the point raised by The Libran Iniquity, I hope that I am able to make the reasons somewhat clearer as the story unfolds.
x-x
After a long climb, Malcolm reached a dark landing and knocked on a door. He heard rustling, movement, and the door was opened in a burst of light and noise. Loud music pulsed past the figure of a man haloed against the bright light coming from behind him.
"Hello, Smish," Malcolm said.
"Where've you been?" Smish replied. He looked Malcolm up and down and smiled. "You look like shit." He pushed the door open wider and pulled Malcolm inside.
Malcolm stood there, blinking against the brightness, as the man settled himself into an old couch. He motioned for Malcolm to sit on the chair across from him.
Smish stared at him for a moment, then reached to turn down the music. "Still using?" he asked quietly.
Malcolm looked away. "I'm not sure."
"Sorry, kid," Smish said, sighing. "You know you can't stay here if you're using." Malcolm opened his mouth to speak, but the man cut him off with a wave. "You can stay the night, but then..." He shook his head, seeming truly sorry. Malcolm nodded, and Smish leaned forward, cuffing him lightly on the arm. "Still, it's good to see you. It's been a while."
x-x
Malcolm awoke on a bed in a tiny room, the early morning light coming through the curtains. He lay there, trying not to think about where he was, what he'd done. Trying not to think about the craving. He turned onto his side and curled up, breathing heavily.
He pushed himself to sitting when the door opened and a woman walked in. She closed the door behind her, then leaned back against it, her arms crossed in front of her.
"You are an asshole," she said. "You left without saying goodbye. Where have you been?"
"Shayna..." he said, but before he could complete his reply, she went on.
"Damn junkie," she muttered. Then she looked him over, her eyes piercing as she evaluated him. "Do you want a fix?"
"No," he replied, but nodded, "yes."
Her gaze softened, and she pushed away from the door and settled beside him on the bed. Facing him, she took his hand gently. "You know you can't stay here."
Malcolm nodded. "I know."
"Not while you're using."
He nodded again, then looked away.
She looked at him hopefully. "But if you want to get clean," she said, placing her other hand over his, enfolding his hand between both of hers.
He looked back to her, saying nothing.
She smiled at him sadly, then let his hand go. Standing, she moved to the door and left, closing the door behind her.
He stayed on the bed, staring at the closed door.
x-x
Malcolm shifted his bag to help it rest more comfortably against his back. He stood outside the door to Shayna's building, under the awning, unsure of where to go. It was still raining, and chilly, and he knew from his time here that the nights could get cold enough to kill if you stayed outdoors. He needed shelter, but he couldn't stay here. Not while he was using.
Was he still using? He wasn't sure. But he knew that he couldn't go on like this. The cravings, the withdrawal, the...he was hit with a wave of pain and doubled over. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he said aloud between gasping breaths. He tried to even his breathing, and as the spasm passed, he straightened.
He stared out into the rain, unmoving. Then, bracing himself, he came to a decision, and ducked out into the downpour.
x-x
Malcolm stood outside the dingy house, staring up at the door. It hadn't been long since he'd been here. In fact, he'd spent a lot of time here as part of his cover.
He stepped up onto the porch and stopped outside the door. He didn't want to go in. He turned away, looking out at the desolate street. But he needed shelter while he figured what to do next. He looked up at the grey sky. Enterprise certainly wouldn't want him back, he thought. Then he shrugged that off, turning back to the door. This would just be for a short time. Just for tonight, maybe. Until he could find someplace else.
Malcolm raised his hand to knock, then pulled his hand away. No, he thought. There has to be someplace else. He shook his head and took a step back.
The door opened in front of him, revealing a large man. Seeing Malcolm, he smiled coldly. "Looking for a fix?"
Malcolm shook his head.
The man reached out and grasped Malcolm's arm, tugging him inside and closing the door. "You must need something, or you wouldn't be here, right?"
"I need a place to stay for a while, Zerx," Malcolm replied, glancing around the grubby room.
Zerx stepped back, appraising. "Nothing here is free."
Malcolm let a smile break, knowing that he probably looked half-mad. "I think you know my skills."
Zerx nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I do indeed. I was almost sad when you disappeared." He let Malcolm's arm go. "Maybe tomorrow, I'll have an appropriate job for you. But for now, Harz is packaging some opoidu in the kitchen. Go in there and help him."
Malcolm nodded and moved towards the door at the far end of the room. As he was about to exit, Zerx called out, "Welcome back."
Malcolm froze in his tracks, hesitating for a mere second before going into the other room.
x-x
Malcolm sat at the rickety kitchen table, helping Harz cut the potency of the drug that, from experience, he knew that Zerx was in charge of selling. They worked together to mix the substances, then package it into baggies, neither of them speaking.
Malcolm was tense. It was stupid, foolish, coming here, being around this stuff again, he thought as he worked. How can I quit when it's all around me? He shook his head and kept working, trying not to think, trying to lose himself in the labour. Then a thought came, unbidden, that caused him to stop, hands in mid-wrap. Maybe I came here because I don't want to quit.
"Malcolm?" Harz asked, shoving Malcolm on the shoulder.
Malcolm started. "Sorry," he murmured as he started working again.
Zerx entered and saw the pile of bags that they'd made. "That's good enough for now," he said. He picked up two baggies, tossed one to Harz, the other he handed to Malcolm. "Go off, boys. Enjoy." As Zerx left the room, Harz stood and packed the bags into a nearby box, then left with it.
Malcolm sat at the table, staring down at the bag in his hand.
His hand was shaking.
He closed his eyes, then closed his fingers around the bundle.
Opening his eyes, he stood and went into his room. It was his old room, just as shitty as he'd left it, and someone had placed his bag on the bare mattress.
He sat on the mattress and looked round the room; empty but for the mattress and an old, cracked mirror leaning against the wall. Paper was peeling off the walls, water dripping from one corner of the ceiling. He sat there for a long while, staring at his reflection in the mirror, letting the soft sound of the rain against the window lull him.
Liar, thief, addict, he thought, staring into his own eyes. I wish I could undo this. Undo everything. My whole life.
Turning to his bag, he took out the silver case. He opened it and laid it on his bed, staring down at it.
He'd been trying so hard. The mission was over, and he'd been trying so hard to stop. But now...He shook his head. Now his dreams were dead, and it was too late.
He reached in and removed the vial, sprinkling some of the powder from his baggie into the container. He held the vial between his palms until the heat from his body caused the substance to liquefy. Gazing at the mixture, he swirled it gently and thought about his life: his family, his career, Enterprise, his friends; everything that he was throwing away.
No. Had already thrown away.
Pulling out his needle, he thrust it into the vial, filling it half-way. He pushed up his sleeve and stared down at his arm.
All for the sake of this.
He thumped his inner arm, trying to raise a vein. As he did so, he looked into the mirror again. I did this first for duty, he thought. Now, maybe it will help me to forget.
He looked down and pushed the needle through his skin, into the vein. His hand was shaking, and he pushed the plunger, injecting the drug quickly, before could change his mind.
He pulled out the needle, his eyes rolling back as he felt the rush.
God.
He fell back onto the mattress.
x-x