A/N Garret is a wreck in this, he really is. But he just wants to keep going...Don't you just hate that, when a character refuses to let go of something?
"Go away." He growled at the door, wishing whoever it was would dissapear. It wasn't Jordan. He learned Jordan's schedule. She'd stop by once a day to make sure he was alive. Occasionally they'd talk. When he let her in.
"Garret? Garret let me in." He sighed and Hurriedly stuffed the contents of the table into a drawer before heading to the door. "Garret, open the damn door." He pulled it open and stood, blocking the woman's entrance.
"What do you want Rene?"
"No offense but you look like hell." She sniffed slightly. "And you smell like you've just bathed in a still."
"Gee, thanks" He stepped slightly aside, letting her in.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine."
"Really? Because you're sitting here in your underwear, getting wasted, you haven't moved much from the couch in days, from the looks of it, not in the past week, and you look like you've been sitting here acting worse than a bum. At least most of the bums try and look presentable."
"Hello to you too." He wasn't in any mood to put up with her bitching right now.
"Look, I'm trying to get through all this as unscathed as I can but you didn't just fuck yourself over this time. All of us are screwed because of you. You know how many murderers you helped convict? Two thousand. Two thousand murderers who now have their cases up for appeal. Two thousand. I only have 20 ADA's. All that evidence has to be reexamined by one of your what is it? 10 ME's. You know how much money you're costing the city of Boston over this? People are hounding me left and right over it, I'm loosing my reelection bid, Bob's definitly lost his, could it have least waited for a non-election year to come out? That's probably half the reason that it did. Now I'm ready to collapse, Jordan's ready to collapse because if one good thing came of this it's that Jordan's actually being responsible, who would have thought that it would take her boss and her friend winding up to be a former drug addict and felon to get her to start doing what she was supposed to, but all of us are ready to collapse from everything that is your fault."
He sighed and looked up at her from the couch, listening to her rant but not really absorbing it. Right now all he could think about was the nausea that had set into the pit of his stomach. He hated the comedowns with a passion. "Well?" She looked at him expectantly.
"Rene, if you think I'm going to try and say something to defend myself, I'm not."
"You have nothing to say for yourself?"
"It's my fault, put all the blame on me."
"I am, it's not enough." She poured herself a glass of scotch, emptying the bottle in the process. "Have any more?" She asked and he glared at her, getting up. It was nearly impossible to walk without wanting to vomit. He manged to retrieve the bottle from the cabinet and get back to the couch though, but she looked at him with concern. "Are you OK?"
"Fine." He said and she took a step forward, looking him up and down, stopping to look in his eyes. He tried to look away but she notcied, she had to. There was a brief pause as she let the information sink in.
"You're on something." He shrugged and took a gulp. "You son of a bitch, you haven't even been fired for a whole week yet and you're already right back into this? Don't tell me you were-" He shook his head.
"If I was, don't you think you would have noticed my convient slipping off every few hours?" She glared at hi.
"So this is all recent." He nodded. "So you've just been sitting here on your ass getting high?"
"Yeah." He looked up at her. "What are you going to do, bust me?" He didn't like the look on her face at that suggestion.
"I might."
"A few days in jail and probation, it would do nothing." She shook her head.
"Not when you have a whole bunch of outstanding probation and parole violations. Lets see, you've crossed state lines, you've commited repeat offenses after being let out, you've violated your parole from your very first jail sentence. If I wanted to, you'd wind up in jail for the rest of your life." He shrugged and curled slightly on the couch, wanting for the awful pain in his stomach to go away.
"So do it." She just stared at him. "I was in there for a year and a half already. It's not all that bad. Hot food, the beds aren't that uncomfortable, could actually be pretty good depending on where I wind up." She kept staring. "Might even wind up beneficial to you, you know, putting the guy that conmpletely fucked over Boston in jail."
"You honestly don't care, do you?" He shrugged again.
"I've run from this, buried it, locked it away and it's all come out, I deserve whatever I get." He leaned his head back, trying to make the world stop spinning.
"Are you sure you're all right?" He nodded weakly.
"Just do whatever it takes to restore your name. And the governor's, and whoever else I've fucked over."
"You're not like OD'ing or anything are you?" He laughed.
"The opposite."
"Oh." There was a pause and he looked up at her."Garret-"
"Hm?"
"Don't do anything else stupid. Like leave while wasted off your ass. You've got enough bad publicity as it is, it wouldn't be good to be caught high. After all the public's first thought is going to be that you never quit. Which makes me look worse." He nodded, rolling over slightly.
"Is that all?"
"Yeah." He could feel her eyes still on him, before she turned around and walked out, leaving him alone. His hands were already starting to shake as he pulled the bag out of the drawer, crushing the pill and inhaling the line, waiting for it to course through him and turn his body back to normal.