A/N Again, I tell you, if you're not a big fan of angst, don't read. This is entirely Garret feeling sorry for himself, angsting and wallowing in self pity while being drunk. This chapter (if you can call it that. It's more like chunk of entires) goes from Lost and Found to Cruel and Unusual...Again, I don't own garret, or any of the things that happen in canon...I just play with them, and give Garret his own take on things...

3/4

It's funny, how even though I'm back with Maggie, if you can call it that, I keep thinking about someone else. The entire time we were in the elevator the only thing I could think of was how I would love to do this entire thing with Jordan, how great it would be if it were someone else that wasn't Maggie.

It was so different, so daring. But every time I closed my eyes it wasn't the blond woman with me, it was dark hair and whiskey colored eyes. I would close my eyes and picture the woman on her knees before me, gently licking and nipping and sucking at me, picture what the look on her face would be one of contentedness, and one of want.

I kept thinking that the woman that I had pinned against the wall, stifling her moans with my mouth wasn't the bitchy blonde that I thought that I would be happy to get rid of, but the beautiful woman that I would be happy to have. I kept thinking about how sexy she would look, with me holding her up, her pants pulled down, her shirt pushed up and me thrusting into her.

It's enough to make me hard all over again. It's enough to make me want her now. To make me want to go and knock on that office across the hall and lay her out over her desk and have her, hard, passionately.

3/19

You never know blind fear until you think you've lost a child. You don't know what it's like to walk around with this pit in your stomach, afraid to call but yet wanting to call, just to find out.

I got the call to her school, I kept calling and calling and only got her voice mail. The only thing I could do was go through those doors with a pit in my stomach, looking at the body under the sheet praying that it wouldn't be my little girl underneath it, praying that everything was going to be fine.

I was afraid to go near it, afraid that I'd find blonde hair and blue eyes staring up at me, every bit the reflection of her mother. The only thing she inherited from me was my stubbornness.

But then she appeared, running towards me and all I could do was wrap her tightly in my arms. I never want to loose her. I have nothing left aside from my little girl. For all the trouble she puts me through, she's still my daughter.

I still love her, and no matter what I do to her, she loves me. It's just the way that parent child relationships work. I want to hate my father, I do, but I can't, no matter how hard I try, how much I think of what he did to me, I can't stop loving him. I can hate him, but I can't stop loving him.

I'd have nothing left without Abby. I'm almost afraid of her in college, she's already been accepted to Rider University, they're supposed to have an amazing business program. I never thought that she would be a business major, but she's good at it, she's got a knack for it, she could open up her own store.

But I've never felt more afraid in my life than right then, thinking that she could be gone. Somehow, I knew she wasn't though. You just know when someone close to you dies, and I never felt it with Abby, I never felt her gone, I knew she was still alive. It didn't mean that I wasn't afraid though.

4/10

I'm reminded yet again, of why I hated my father. How as much as I want to hate him that I can't. I love him, but I hate him. He's my father; I can't hate him just on sheer principal. I want to hate him but I can't.

Because I did the same thing that I wanted to hate him for. He ran off away from his family. He ran away from his whole life, he ran away from it all rather than stay and know that things would just go from bad to worse. He left rather than hurt us all more. He left to save us.

He still loved us. He told me that he left because he loves us. He told me that he left because he knew that we'd be better off without him. That we'd be better off without an alcoholic deadbeat good for nothing con artist.

But isn't that all I am? An alcoholic deadbeat good for nothing. That's all I am, I don't fault him for leaving though, not really. I don't fault him for leaving a cold as ice mother. I don't fault him for leaving me. But what got to me the most was that he gave me back the comic book. It was the same one, it had to be. He had hung onto it the whole time, he didn't sell it.

Something in me just tells me that he didn't sell it, that he had had it all this time that I just spent my whole life thinking that he had sold off my most prized possession when he hadn't. That's what got to me. I don't choke up easily, but that was it, that was what pushed me over the edge and actually got me to cry.

That and what Jordan gave me before. I still have that stethoscope in my drawer. She said that the day that I walked into her life was the most important day in her life, that I changed her life forever for the better. And it makes me think that I actually have a chance with her now because of it, that I might actually get somewhere with her that she just might love me that way.

But I don't know what to feel about my father anymore. I want to love him, I want to hate him, but mostly I'm neutral. I'm so in between love and hate that I just can't' feel anything, anything at all. I want to love him, I want to be like a normal kid who loves there father and I want to hate him for never being there.

Although I can see why he became a grifter. I can. I can see the enticement of it. It was kind of fun, really. There's definitely something about knowing that you're doing something that's not quite legal and getting money for it. There's something about knowing that you're tricking someone.

And I like that feeling. I know what I'll do if I ever give up this awful job. I can never make it in music, if I give this up, I'm going to become just like my father.

When I grow up, I wanna be just like my daddy.

5/18

She's gone. She walked right back out of my life. She wasn't even here a full year and she's run again. Off trying to find her mother's killer. And it leaves me here wishing that she were back. I'm empty; if there's any other word to describe how I feel, please tell me, but empty seems to be all I can come up with. I'm empty without her.

I've fucked things over more than I ever wanted to. Lily's gone, probably never coming back. That's all my fault too; I shouldn't have tried to juggle her and Maggie, it just wound up in all three of us getting hurt and me winding up going from too many women to none at all.

None. No Maggie. No Lily. No Jordan. But Jordan's the only one that seems to hurt. Lily doesn't hurt, Maggie doesn't hurt, Jordan hurts. Jordan's the one that got under my skin against my will. As much as I love and hate Maggie, I don't know how to describe what I feel for Jordan.

But she's gone again. I can't hire her back, not again. I can't call her back, not when she's so close to someone that has information. I don't blame her, really. I spent half a year trying to chase down my father when I hated the man, a full six months of being under the guise of touring with whatever band I was playing with at the time, really looking every single day for him. And never finding him.

When he came back, I wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of him for all that he'd done. His constant in and out of my life, never staying long enough for me to get close, leaving mom and me to fend for ourselves, just narrowly staying fed and clothed and sheltered.

But I couldn't. The only thing I could think of to really hate him about was that damn comic. Which he gave back to me. I still can't believe he did that. Give it back to me, not sell it, the things worth at least 20k. But he just gave it back, or bought it, or whatever it was that he did with it. All I know is it's mine again.

But she's gone, she's chased down some wild lead that she can't let go of. She can't let go of her mother's murder, even her father has, but she can't. That's just not who she is.

6/10

There was some song Nigel was playing today that's just stuck out in my head. Something that amazes me because of the lyrics. All about a lover that you don't have to love. Someone who's there, someone who'll take you, a one-night stand and nothing else.

I want that, but I don't. I want her, most of all. I want her to come back and realize that I love her, I want her to come back to me and I want to have her in my life. I want her to realize that I'm the one for her and that she can love me forever.

Because I'll love her forever. I'll hold her close on long lonely nights. I'll give her the freedom that she wants; I know she doesn't like to be tied down. I'll give her everything that she wants, everything she needs just to have her.

I'm weak for her and I know it.

But I'll settle for a lover that I don't have to love. Just a random face in a random place that's someone who won't care that I love someone else. That I'm just looking for a quick screw. Wham bam thank you ma'am. That's what I want.

7/30

She's back, and I love it. I love having her near me. I thought that I had lost her forever, that she was never going to come back and she did. And I pulled strings to get her back. I have connections that I can manipulate like a puppet.

I had to give her another pay cut, at least on her official salary. It says on all the records that she only makes 38 grand a year, but I supplement that with another few grand out of my own pocket. I've got the extra money. It's not like I'm going to be spending any of the money that just sits collecting interest or sits invested in portfolios that I don't even look at.

I don't care about the money. It was important when I was young, when I had none, when I was with Maggie and all she could think about was money. But now that I have no point for it, there's no point in keeping it around. I have no use for it. Abby's college fund is well stocked.

I have hundreds of thousands of dollars; at least that's what my broker says. He keeps telling me that all my money is so well invested that if I were to sell out I'd be set for two lifetimes. I don't care if it is or isn't, the only people who care about that are the ones who are inheriting anything.

Jordan and Abby. They're the two that are getting most of my inheritance. All of it. Abby's getting most of it, Jordan's getting whatever I know Abby would have no use for. And I trust my car to Jordan much more than I trust it to Abby, I'd rather not see my baby wrecked. Either one. Abby's not the best driver in the world yet, she'd total that thing in a day.

I could never work a day in my life, but I don't really care. Work gives me something to do at the very least. I may not particularly like it that much, it may not be what I want to do, but it's something to drive me away from boredom, something to keep me doing something every day, get up go to work, hate work, go home, hate my life. Nice little daily routine there.

10/12

I have to do something to stop these thoughts running through my brain. Something, anything. Nothing works, really, no matter how hard I try, I can't get her out of my head, I keep trying to, but it doesn't work, nothing works to get her out of my head.

And ever since she grabbed my ass today, I just want her. I want to kiss her hard and drag her off to bed with me. Just the way that she did it, playful, fun, but with just a hint of something else, something more. Something that she flirted with but wouldn't want. She wouldn't want me.

Shy would she want me? She has Woody, anyone who can't see the chemistry between those two is blind. But since she came back, she's been taking up more and more of my mind and all I want to do is have her, have what Woody is going to get. I can see it between them, she's going to wind up with him, and I'm going to be the best friend who supports her in her relationship, she'll never know what I think.

God forbid she ever finds this. I think it might send her running. Or rather, me. I wouldn't make her leave Woody, I'd be the one to pack up and move, someplace far, far away from here where I'd never have to see her again, knowing that she knows how I feel and will never feel the same way about me.

I'd be the one to pack up and go someplace else. California was nice, but it's so close to where she's run to before, she's been there before, she could be there again. Washington or Oregon are nice, or so I hear, I never actually got to be there. Or maybe just really leave. Australia, Mexico, China, Siberia, someplace where I'll never have to see her again.

It's not like I'm ever going to have her, it's not like she's ever going to notice anything in me. I don't know what makes me seem so attractive-I know that when I walk in someplace there's always at least one woman there who by the end of the night I could take home with me, but I never saw why.

I'm not a good-looking man, I'm bald, and old, and wrinkled. I suppose I'm well built, I'm not fat, at least. And well, even she pointed out that I have a nice ass, But I'm nothing compared to some of the young men at the bars. I asked one woman who came up and started talking to me about it; she said that I just had "it". Whatever "it" is.

It's not even that I'm really self-confident. I mean, I'm not a total stare at the ground looser, but I hate large groups of people and having to make speeches, and I'm only really confident in myself when I'm cutting open a dead body. It's the only thing that I know I'm good at.

I fail at anything to do with other people. I'm just not that good of a social person, I'm not a natural born orator, I don't inspire confidence and motivation some others do. I'm just not made to be a people person.

10/13

God, I haven't woken up from a wet dream since I was a teenager. I haven't had a wet dream since I was sixteen. And yet, she was the cause of one.

She was here, in my house. The evening went fairly normally, like it usually does when she's over, talking, food, more talking, sitting on the couch drinking and watching the game until she's had enough and won't be able to drive home if she has another sip, or until the game is over, just talking and half watching the game.

Only this time rather than it ending as the patriots do some crazy play like usually, and her getting up and heading to the door, she looks up at me and then kisses me. Soft and smooth and yet at the same time pure liquid fire.

I part her lips with my tongue and we lean back into the couch, kissing deeply, passionately. My hand works its way up her shirt as the buttons on mine are quickly undone, leaving me only in my undershirt, which quickly gets untucked and thrown across the room.

I take off her shirt, and kiss my way down her breasts, stopping only to remove her bra and take one nipple into my mouth, gently sucking, catching it in my teeth, playing with it, listing to her gasp and moan in pleasure

I move to the other breast and she works me out of my pants, which are already too tight. Damn, I'm getting hard just thinking about my fantasy. She pushes me up off of her, only so that we can head into the bedroom, and we fall back onto the bed after I've pulled her pants and underwear off, leaving her bare to me.

I kiss and tease my way down her body, but she flips me over and takes me into her mouth, ripping my boxers off. Her tongue circles just the very tip as one hand comes out and wraps around the base, starting a rhythm to match the way that her tongue is gently licking and lapping at me before she pulls her hand back and takes me entirely into her mouth.

I'm down her throat and she's swallowing me, working her throat muscles around me, and one hand comes out to grab my balls, rolling them back and forth, playing with them, adding even more pleasure to everything and I can't take it anymore, I cum, hard.

God, I can't even write that without getting hard, without needing to do something about it. And I know that it's going to be almost the same fantasy when I put this away and do something about it, that I'm going to be lying back in bed thinking of her with only my right hand for solace. I need a girlfriend, I do. I need someone to help pass the lonely nights.

10/14

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the other day. I was going to die, and I could only think of two things. Abby and Jordan. But mostly Jordan. Mostly how I'd never get to tell her how I felt. And then when I was finally going to, she cut me off, she told me not to think that way that we were going to get through this.

But I was going to tell her. I had gotten the second word out and she cut me off, she cut me off stopping me from saying it. I think she knows. She has to know. The way she grabbed my ass told me that she knows that I love her and will do anything for her, that I'm hers to do with as she pleases.

I only thought about Abby and that I had two college funds set up for her, it didn't matter that I was going to die. I didn't care about that, I just wanted to tell her that she was going to be set for life, that she could be a trust fund baby and get away with it.

She's better off without me. I've never been a good father to her, I've never been there for her, I've never been anything for her except someone to scold her. Neither of us were great parents, but I was the worst. I was a horrible parent. I always swore I was never going to be like my father, yet I wound up even worse than he did.

I love Abby though, I really do. She's my daughter, and I love her for that, she's one of the best things to happen in my life, but I love her so much I want to just be out of her life and stop ruining it. I want her to go off to college and forget about me, just make something of herself.

That's what she needs to do. Go off and make something of herself and forget all about how horrible her father was at raising her.

10/16

It's another drunken night spent all alone with only a nice bottle of Johnny Walker to keep me company. And he's a good friend, let me tell you.

I hate it when I'm forced to stroll down memory lane. I hate it when I'm forced to look back on my life and what it had been, what it could have been, I don't want to think about that.

Because thinking about what happened in the past only makes me hate what I've become even more than I already do. It makes me loathe everything that I am now; it makes me hate who I've become.

I've become a weak pathetic little man who can't do anything for himself I gave up my one love because my mother wanted me to become a doctor. Because I was too chicken shit to go out there and fight, because I was afraid of loosing my poor sheltered life.

It's times like this where I want to just give in and go back to the weak little man that I was. The poor high school dropout n'er-do-well that was destined to spend the rest of his life on a street corner, or that guy in the club who constantly goes "I coulda been somebody" while drunk and on more substances than one can possibly count.

I want to just give up. I don't want to go back and think about Maggie. I don't want to think about how she had me whipped, about how she had driven me away from anything and I had been blind enough to let it happen. I had thought her love was all I needed.

And then I realized that she never loved me. I was just the one that she had. I was the one that she could live with, not the one she could never live without. I doubt she'll ever find that man. She's just not that type of woman. She wants it all in life, and she can't have it all, but she'll keep searching till she gets it.

She chews you up and spits you out, uses you only for her purposes, she hates not having her way and will throw a tantrum if she doesn't get it. And yet, I had been blind enough to fall in love with her. Blind enough to want to make things work. Blind enough to let our split affect my life.

In retrospect, I'm better off without her, she left me hollow, broken, but I miss her, damn it, I miss her, I don't want to miss her, I want to hate her for all the shit she put me through, but I still love her. There's still the part of me that's the wake little man that I had been, who wants her, so sure of herself, so beautiful, so proud to come in and rescue me again.

But I have Jordan to throw that want to now. I can pitch my desire to her. It's not good, it might be worse, but it gets my mind off of Maggie, gets my mind off the manipulative bimbo that I had been stupid enough to marry.

10/18

I give up on her, she's obviously Woody's, I can't put up with it anymore, I should leave, fire her, do something to keep her away from me, stop her from tormenting me, but part of me is happy to get whatever little interaction I can get, and wants her to stay. I can't take it anymore.

10/24

I've been looking through a lot of these. I suppose Stiles would be proud, I'm making some sort of discovery about myself. I've discovered when I'm drunk I absolutely loathe Maggie. When I'm sober I can't say the feelings entirely gone, but it's much weaker, not nearly as vindictive.

It's not an evil I want to kill her hate. It's more I want to spite her hate, prove that I don't need her in my life type thing. However, when I'm drunk, I can't' say that I haven't scared myself before.

Each time I get drunk I find myself a different man everything that I try to hide on a daily basis comes to the light, it's suddenly all there, pure unadulterated rage. But I suppose it's best to let it out that way, drinking my way through bottle after bottle of scotch because if I didn't, I don't know what I'd do, I certainly don't want to snap and wind up in some mental place.

I've heard Jordan's stories about the one her mother was in, it seems like a nice enough place, but I don't want to be there. I don't want to be someplace like where my mother was, a place like that would drive me even further to suicide, not away from it, it would make me angrier, not calmer.

I suppose I'm a haunted man, I'm haunted by what I was, haunted by the mistakes that I made. I can't say I really blame myself for being this way either, I mean someone should not have been through what I've gone through, I've gone through a lot, It's understandable for me to be just a little fucked up, right?

I'm not that bad, I'm not nearly as crazy as Jordan. Jordan without her problems just isn't the same, I could never picture her without her problems, they're just so much who she is, they're a part of her, something that I would never try to take away.

It's what I hate about Woody, he wants to take away her problems, make her forget about them and move on, act as if her mother's murder doesn't affect her. She can't do that though, I know she can't.

I don't want her to forget them; I don't want her to pretend she's accepted it and dealt with it. I just want her to be able to function, do her job without chasing down every little lead that has even the thousandth of a chance of being connected with a murder and risking her life. I want to see her happy and healthy.

More than anything, I want to see her in my arms. Wow, it's amazing, a drunken rant from me that hasn't been all about the anger and the hate. No, I think if anything, this one's about the hurt. The hurt of knowing that the woman that you love loves someone else.

Love. I've never used that word before to describe her, but I suppose it fits. Love is the only thing I think I can say I feel for her. It's the same thing I felt for Maggie, only stronger, it has to be love; I thought I loved Maggie, but this is different, this is more intense.

She's my best friend, but I love her, I want her.

10/30

Peter Winslow. The newest addition. Part of my past staring me in the face. I didn't want to hire him, not when I saw his record, but the boy was desperate, searching for something to get his feet back on the ground, and I had to hire him, I had been him once, many years ago. I had been the same scared boy who wanted only to make something of himself and save himself from being a complete and total fuck up.

I was a high school dropout. I willingly gave up my education thinking that I could make it as a drummer. I had gotten lucky, gotten back into college, managed to get into pre-med to get away from what I didn't want to do, managed to survive med school.

I had thought I had put that whole chapter of my life behind me, the entire two years of my life that are more hazy than I'd like them to be, two years of sex drugs and rock and roll, with heavy emphasis on the first two and not quite as much on the last, largely due to all the emphasis on the first two.

We had thought ourselves on top of the world. We had a van and a small trailer to lug our gear; we got our way onto some small tours, making our way across the country. I had been just like him when I had given it all up, scared, broken, wanting only to be something, be someone.

And I had all but forgotten about it. Until now, he's brought it back up in my mind, reminding me of what I had been, that my life wasn't always as perfect as it is now. That I had lived a life that I hide from everyone, no one knows it, no one who knows me now knows what I had been. I put all that behind me when I came back to college, I forgot about it, severed all ties with it, acted as if it never happened.

But I can't pretend anymore. Not with him there, reminding me of it. I want nothing more than to fire him, but he's done nothing wrong yet, he's been a model employee, he's done a good job, I just can't stand the fact that he reminds me of the life that I fought so hard to forget.

11/2

I don't know what it is that woman sees in me. I can barely remember how it was that I woke up with some woman next to me. The only thing I can remember was that it had been her name on my lips when I finally went over the edge. And that the woman next to me looked way too much like her for my own taste.

I had gone out and picked up the next best thing to her, something that I hated myself for doing. I had done it right after Maggie left, found whatever blonde bimbos I could, whatever woman reminded me of Maggie in any way shape or form, simply because they were the next best thing.

And now here was the next best thing to her, sleeping next to me. It had been her that I had been thinking about, her name that had come out of my throat as I went over the edge, I wanted nothing else but to think that I was with her, that I had her, but I don't have her, I'll never have her. I don't want her; she'll never go for me except out of pity.

11/9

I don't know what it is about Rene, but there's something about her that turns me on.

But it's something that I'm afraid to get involved with. She reminds me too much of Jordan. I'm afraid of only using her as someone to substitute, the same look, dark hair, those deep eyes, the same slight build.

They could pass as sisters, if they wanted to. And there's obviously something between us, there's no doubting that, something about the way that we interact, push each other's buttons.

But she's so much like Jordan. I can't get it out of my head when I'm with Rene that she's just another replacement for Jordan. That she's just like some of the other dark haired ones that I've picked up in bars searching for someone to be at least a temporary version of the woman that I really want.

All we did while we were in North Carolina was fight, bicker and purposely push each other's buttons, everyone I swear thought that we were either a couple madly in lust or an old married couple there was that much tension and passion between us. But I don't want to be passionate with her, I don't want her to be just another woman who I get to screw Jordan vicariously through, I want a woman who I can have a real relationship with.

Don't get me wrong, Rene is gorgeous, for someone who's nearly as old as me, she' looks good, she looks amazing. If it wasn't for the fact that she reminds me of Jordan, I'd go after her in an instant. But I don't want her to just be a replacement.

And I can't talk to Howard about this. I can't. I don't want him to know about Jordan, it makes it tall the more real. If I act as if I don't love her, keep telling myself that I don't love her; I might just trick myself into believing it. But telling someone else that I love her makes it real, makes me have to realize it, whether I want to or not.

And knowing him he'd try his damnedest to play matchmaker, drop subtle hints to her, or knowing him, not so subtle hints and tell her flat out that I would like nothing more than to drag her home and fuck her senseless.

Although that's only a small part of it. There's something about her that makes me feel safe, makes me feel whole. I never felt that way with Maggie, and I just want to feel like that forever. I want to have her in my life forever, and don't want to let her go. The sex is just a nice bonus, but I feel complete already just having her by me, I don't need to have her that way too to have what I want.

11/12

It's not often it's something that the victim has that gets me thinking about my past life, about what happened between what I had been and what I am, and how much I've changed.

But a kid cam through here today, still had his book son him, kept all his notes in his back pocket, and I was searching through them, trying to find a name when I cam across something. It was an essay he had written for school and had something on there, the topic got me to thinking. Thinking about what I had been.

He has said that two characters in some book obviously still loved each other, or at least cared because they would throw silverware drawers at each other, they still has passion, they still cared enough to have passion, but eventually that passion just fizzled and died, leaving them both alone.

And well, I suppose that's what happened between Maggie and I. We had such wonderful passion, we had the most amazing lustful relationship, and then all of a sudden, it faded, died right away. And then we started fighting, the passion was back, if in a negative way.

And then I just gave up. Stopped caring. I didn't care enough to push my own limits and come as close I as ever could to abusing her, screaming at her, slamming my fist into the wall way too close than I would have liked.

It's funny, there's a hole in the wall where I punched clear through it during a fight. There's a picture up there to cover it, she never did get it plastered over. Just hung a picture on it. I had sunken down into the bottom of a pit, same way I've done before.

My life just spirals downwards, not upwards. I keep falling down into deeper despair and climbing up every now and then only to fall back down deeper. I had been drinking too much and I guess it was that angry side of me that I keep so finely in check coming out. I would never hit her, I could never hit her, but that didn't stop me from punching through walls.

I didn't have it in me to actually hit her, I was too afraid to. I was afraid of what she'd do in return. I'm a bastard. I know I am. I'm a self-loathing bastard; I don't need Howard to tell me that, I know it for myself. I'm a self-loathing bastard who sits here on lonely nights and drinks myself into a stupor while writing about how much of a self-loathing bastard I am.

I don't know whether or not to call myself an alcoholic or not. I mean, I know I'll never set foot inside an AA meeting, but I'm not in denial. I know I drink more than I ought to, I know I've done more things in my life than I ought to have ingested, but I really don't give a damn. I almost want to be a full out drunk, living only from drink to drink, not caring about anything in between.

It seems so much simpler to live like that, in that constant dull state, nothing to worry about silly little things like work or love. You don't feel, you get rid of all the feeling. I'd love to be like that, just completely empty of all feeling. I want to become completely apathetic. It saves you so much heartache.

11/25

Thanksgiving has no point when you're alone. I spent it working. Saw a wannabe-cook flambé and that's about it. Another boring day that passed by without event.