Title: Too Far Gone
Summary: Charlie returns to an empty apartment after Liam runs off to Australia. One-shot, complete.
Rating: T
Warning: drug use, angst
Disclaimer: I'm not making a cent off of any of this, so don't blame me.
His older brother appeared to shrink. Charlie stood on the dimly lit street corner, watching as Liam descended the steps of the tube station, ignoring his desperate pleas to wait, to listen. Then he disappeared into nothingness and Charlie sensed himself fading away along with him. He felt thin and hollow, the bitter chill of the night air penetrating his frame, passing right through it as though he were made of tissue paper. It would have been something like an out of body experience but for the familiar tremble that was beginning in his fingertips and traveling upwards. Liam was gone, and it was time to go home.
Charlie's tremors intensified as he turned unsteadily and headed back in the direction of his flat. Burying his hands in his jacket pockets, he lowered his head and increased his pace. The pain of loss combined with a mild sense of panic was filling up his throat and he choked it back down. It had all happened so fast that he scarcely had time to process it; but Charlie knew it would soon hit him square in the face. He was returning to a large emptiness; a space where his piano used to be, before his only blood relative had walked out of his life, taking every reason Charlie had for living with him.
Using every ounce of his strength he held himself together for the short walk back to his building. He was still accustomed to being recognized on the street as the bloke from DriveShaft even though it hardly ever happened anymore. Keeping a low profile during private moments was more of an old habit than an actual necessity, but Charlie knew full well how hard old habits were to break.
The moment he was alone in the lift he collapsed into a corner, burying his face into the phony paneled walls. He didn't want the ride to end, because he knew what awaited him on the other side. As he cried he tugged at his hair and pounded the wall with his fist. He felt his stomach lurch slightly as the lift came to a stop on the top floor of the renovated factory in which he lived. The doors slid open and pushing back from the wall, wiping his face with his sleeve, Charlie turned to face his future.
He staggered into his flat like a man condemned, looked past the couch and flinched. There was a single chair at the foot of a ghostly imprint in the dusty floor. The wood where the piano had been looked pristine, as if the instrument itself had helped it to maintain its innocence, while the rest of the floor was dirty and worn. Charlie surveyed the surrounding area. Strewn about were the sheets of paper that contained the beginnings of a song that would never live to see completion. The lamp that once stood was now on its side, as if it had been knocked unconscious by the thief who had stolen his piano.
Charlie rubbed at his eyes, took a deep breath and went to the kitchen for a beer. It was only when he opened the fridge door that he remembered it had been some time since he had been shopping. He swung the door shut and crept back to the couch empty handed. Dropping down in a daze, he contemplated his situation.
Fact one: Liam was gone. Under threat of expulsion, he had finally decided to clean up his act. He ran off to Australia with his wife and child where a new job and a new life awaited him.
Fact two: Charlie's beloved piano was gone, sold to provide his brother a ticket out. For both Charlie and Liam, it seemed the piano was a means of escape for when life was less than perfect; but for Charlie, it was also the last thing he had that reminded him of his mother. Unfortunately, it had also been his only potential means of a livelihood, his bass having been sold long ago.
Fact three: His income was drying up. Since DriveShaft disbanded, Charlie's royalty checks were fast dwindling in both amount and frequency. Certainly they were insufficient to survive on and whatever he did have from living on the dole was quickly spent on certain 'necessities', which brought Charlie careening straight into fact four.
The heroin.
He had been supporting both his own and Liam's habit for months, without a thought as to what would happen when the money ran out. They never thought past the next fix. Luckily he owned the flat outright so rent wasn't an issue. The loft had been the first thing he had purchased in cash with the advance on their gold record. As he glanced at the framed album on the wall, it seemed like another lifetime to Charlie. Now he was going to have to do some fast thinking to figure out where his next stash was going to come from.
But first things first.
Charlie rose from the couch and scanned the flat. The table was cleared of everything but an overflowing ashtray. It was Liam that smoked, so at least the air would be clearer without him, thought Charlie. He went to the dresser near the bed and began rummaging through the drawers. He knew it had to be here. Before he left, Liam said he hadn't used in two days. He wouldn't have taken it with him; he was on his way to rehab. Charlie looked under the bed and behind the furniture only to come up empty. He tried to recall the last place Liam might have used. Was it in the loo? He ran to the washroom and searched the cabinets. Nothing. He checked his own wallet. Not even enough cash for a single bump. The reality of his situation was finally settling upon him and he felt short of breath. Then he had one last thought.
Liam was on his way to rehab. Charlie wasn't there when he packed but he imagined his brother feeling pretty superior about his decision. It was likely he didn't just leave his stash behind--he would have thrown it away. Charlie headed for the dustbin in the kitchen.
He pulled the bin out from beneath the sink. There it sat, perched on top of a bed of used tissues and coffee grounds. His brother was the biggest junkie he'd ever seen. Charlie was amazed that Liam had the strength to toss his works away like rubbish. He didn't think Liam had it in him.
Charlie reached in and pulled out the small zippered case and brushed it off, slightly disgusted at what he was doing but not enough to stop himself. He returned to the couch, sat down and opened the case. He removed a spoon, a lighter, a small bag and a needle. His heart sank. Normally Charlie shied away from needles. He preferred to snort powder but had used up his own stash the other day. It would be two weeks before he had another check coming. Until some more money came in, this was all that he had to keep him from withdrawal, and he would do anything to avoid that. Charlie picked up the small plastic baggie; it contained maybe two hits at most. Even if he did this he was going to have to come up with some way to get more.
Charlie put down the baggie and picked up the needle. He wondered where Liam must be by now and what he was thinking. Charlie had only shot up twice before and although the high was like nothing else, he always dreaded the needle, enough so that he refused to make a habit of it. Still, his body was craving the drug anyway he could administer it, and as more time went by, the method mattered less. He rolled the syringe between his fingers, counted to five silently for strength and then lunged for the telephone.
He knew the number by heart. Charlie held the receiver with his eyes closed and his hands shaking madly. Come on, come on. The mobile was answered on the third ring.
"Yeah," the voice answered with impatience.
He pulled himself together to hide his desperation. "Tommy? It's Charlie. Charlie Pace."
Tommy's tone brightened. "Charlie, mate. How are ya?"
"Fine. I'm fine. Listen Tommy, I was wondering if you could help an old mate out."
"Anything for a famous rock star, Charlie. What do you need?"
Charlie's own impatience started to show. He rubbed at his forehead and sighed. "You know what I need. I want the best you've got. No needles. Only, the thing is, I'm a little short of cash right now."
There was a pause on the other end and Charlie feared his old friend was going to tell him to piss off. He punched at the cushion with his fist until he heard, "You'll be getting paid soon right?"
"Yeah, yeah," Charlie insisted, sitting up straighter, twisting the phone line around his fingers as he lied. "Next week, I promise. I just need enough to get by until then. Please, Tommy."
"Sure thing, lad. What are friends for? I'll be right over to take care of you." Before disconnecting he added, "How's Liam been?"
Charlie hesitated. "He's um……he's good. He's just out……right now, but he'll be back. I'll see you soon. Thanks Tommy."
He put the phone down and slid all the way to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest. He swore to himself as he shook that once he got his next fix he would figure something out.