Disclaimer- I bought them with my Christmas money. Yeah, right!
Author's Note- I invite any lurkers on this story to come on out and have your say, even if you hate it, but please tell me specifics, reviews are a wonderful thing but reviews that tell me what you like and don't like are a godsend.
Peter had been so happy that day, so excited, Garret and he were both going back to work and Garret had started telling the people who mattered about their relationship. Soon they wouldn't have to hide, at least not around their friends. However, days slipped into one week and then a month and Garret still hadn't told anyone but Jordan. Peter didn't want to push him, but the constant hiding and secrecy were wearing him down.
Then there were the returned letters he'd written to his mother. He'd hoped she would soften given a little time, but according to Marta and Jeannette, she still refused to have his name spoken around her. His sisters had tried to talk to her about Peter, but she had refused.
Jeannette had let it slip that all the photos of Peter had been taken down in the house and a new family portrait had been commissioned. His mother was having the portrait that had hung for years in the formal living room redone without Peter. She was erasing him from the family as though he'd never existed. He had no family left except Jeannette and Marta and he could not share the most important relationship in his life with his friends.
He did everything he could to hide his pain from Garret, who had enough going on, getting back into the groove at work with Slokum still breathing down his neck. He didn't need worry about Peter and his mental and emotional stability on top of it. Peter put on a satisfied demeanor around everyone until it became second nature. That annoying conscience had grumbled at first, bitching him out constantly, but lately, it had been quiet.
His sponsor kept harping on making his insides match his outsides and Peter tried to make the two agree, but the longer things went on this way the more stressed he became. He thought about going to Dr. Stiles, but he'd never been comfortable with the state psychiatrist. The man was too dangerous for Peter to talk to; one negative report and he'd be out of a job.
Sometimes he felt like a guitar string, stung so tightly that the least change in his environment started his nerves humming in a way that set his teeth on edge. His jaw ached constantly from clenching it and he'd barely been able to eat. This morning had been the beginning of a horrible day, he'd had a case that was supposed to be very simple, a man in his fifties had died in his sleep and Peter got the pick up.
He drove to Savan Hill and found the man's life partner sitting by the bedside still holding the dead man's hand. Downstairs the two men's families and friends were already gathering. He'd transported the remains back to the morgue and asked Bug if he could do the sign out and headed out for an early lunch, which he couldn't share with Garret because the Chief ME was downtown lunching with Renee Walcott.
Peter ate and decided to stroll through Boston Garden and take the afternoon off; he called Jordan to get an okay and was told to stay available until 4pm. So, he headed off to check out the Garden and Common and do a little shopping.
As he walked the Commons, he thought about what he'd seen this morning. The dead man had been open with his friends and his family; his partner had a big support system to help him through the loss of his lover. If something happened to Garret, Peter would have only a few people who would know and understand why his boss' death would devastate him.
Because of Garret's inability to talk to his friends, Peter was left unable to share things with people who mattered to him. It was had been weighing on him heavily that he couldn't share his happiness with his friends. He really didn't want to 'talk' Garret into anything; he wanted him to tell people because he was happy, not because Peter nagged him into it.
Peter was walking past a bistro in the shopping district when he saw his mother walking out. She looked past him to the cab on the curb; Peter knew she saw him, but she refused to acknowledge at him and the cab pulled away. He stood there for a long time and then walked numbly away
Peter sat two spoons in his trembling hand. The pills were nestled snugly into one, the back of the second pushing down ever so slightly, just enough to crush them a little at a time. A little bit more, and a little bit more, grinding them up into a fine powder. He ground it down until it wouldn't grind anymore, and then tapped the powder out onto the desk in front of him.
He maneuvered it into two neat parallel lines with a credit card, forming and reforming them multiple times, before settling with two nice sized lines. He toyed with the dollar bill in his hand, rolling it, unrolling it, folding it. He put his head down and placed one finger against a nostril as he placed the dollar bill into the familiar position.
He hesitated, leaning back. He had avoided this for how long? But he needed it. Things had gone horribly wrong. He'd lost his parents for Garret. Garret, who said he would tell people but who hadn't told anyone except Jordan. He was tired of hiding in the closet with Garret. He needed to be in the open, this hiding shit and evading his friends when they asked where he was staying had worn his nerves completely through. Seeing his mother today had been the last thing he could stand.
What was the point of struggling to stay clean, if even his own mother couldn't love him? He'd felt the pain choking him, it was choking him still. He needed something to help him cope. He leaned back down, hovering over one of the two lines as the door opened. "Peter?" The deep voice asked and he pulled back again. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Peter jumped at the sound and the fine powder blew across the desk. "Fuck."
Garret crossed the room and grabbed Peter by the collar, hauling him up out of the chair and spinning him around. "What. In. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing." Garret punctuated each word with a finger in Peter's chest.
It was the last straw for Peter, he shoved Garret back and stood, fists clenched. "Whatever the fuck I please. Back off, just leave me alone. I don't need you or the goddamned voice in my head telling me what I do and don't need. What I can and can't do. It's just one Goddamned hit. I just need to take the edge off a little." Peter turned and headed to the door, intent on leaving.
Garret was back on his feet and moving, Peter could hear him behind him. Garret's hand on his shoulder spun him around to face him. "Don't fucking walk out of here, you little shit. I want to know what the fuck you think you're doing. How can you be so stupid to screw up all the hard work you've put into getting clean and staying clean?"
"Just back the fuck off, Garret. I needed that hit and you made me waste it. What right do you have to be so fucking self-righteous. You walk around acting like King Shit at the morgue and you don't even care enough about me to tell the truth to our friends. You come home and drink to take the edge off and I'm just supposed to suck it up and handle the rough shit without anything to help me chill." Peter turned to the door again.
Suddenly he felt himself slammed into the wall a hand grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm up behind him, holding him in place. He felt Garret's breath in his ear.
"Is that what you want, Peter? To slide back into the gutter? Because if it is, pack your shit and go. I played this game once, I won't do it again. I'm done playing straight man to a drama queen." Garret spun him back around and held him by his shirt, pressed so hard against the wall he could hardly breath. "But if you walk out, Peter, there's no turning back. You step through that door and we are through."
Peter could hardly believe that this was happening, like a slap in the face, Garret's words cut through the fog in his mind. His eyes flicked to the desk covered in white powder and back to Garret. He could tell Garret had seen the movement.
"Choose Peter, which matters more? Us or that shit." Garret released him so suddenly that he didn't have the energy to hold himself up. He slid down the wall, his head dropping to his hands. The last month finally crashing down on him, all the pain he'd tried to push aside welling up and cresting over him like a wave. He cringed in anticipation of the blow.
"Garret..." His voice broke and he couldn't hold the tears in any longer. He was dimly aware of Garret's arms around him as he broke down completely. Crying for himself and all he'd lost and could still lose. The tears and frustration of every mistake he'd made left him shuddering weakly in Garret's arms, feeling as though he would evaporate with the last tear, nothing left but an empty shell of a life.
"Please, Garret, don't give up on me. Please… I… I…" He began to cry again, the rational part of his mind amazed that there could be another tear left. Surely by now he'd used up every one his body could produce and yet they still fell. He wondered how this could be all that was left of the hope he'd had just a month before.
Finally, Peter began to calm enough to be aware that, while he'd cried on the floor in Garret's arms over an hour had passed. As he brought up his hand to wipe his face, he saw the tremors, like palsy, running through it. The floor was hard and cold, but he didn't have the energy to get up and walk the few steps to the couch. He tried twice to stand, but slumped back to the floor, until Garret's hand was thrust in front of his face.
He reached out and felt the strength as the older man all but lifted him up. He staggered a drunken step or two and there was Garret, shoulder under his arm holding him up, guiding him gently to the bedroom. He laid Peter on the bed and left for a moment. Peter, too exhausted to even raise his head from the pillow, waited to see if he'd return. Or if the path he had almost had taken had disgusted Garret so much that he'd left.
After a few moments, Peter felt a cool cloth laid over his eyes and the shifting of the mattress as Garret stretched out beside him, gathering him into his arms and stroking his hair.
"Peter, it's okay. You'll be all right. I'm right here, just go to sleep. We'll work it out later, just sleep now." The low, rough, velvet of Garret's voice eased him down into sleep.
A/N- Any thoughts on this?