Chapter One-Hundred and Four

Amelia climbed into John's bed, the image of John screaming and thrashing around when they'd loaded him into the ambulance after the bad people had taken her and the police had rescued them. "John?" She whispered, poking his forehead to wake him up and let him know she was there. She'd learned after a few times of scaring him, that she needed to let him know she was there. If he didn't, he might as well jump out of his skin with how he reacted to her surprising him. "John…"

He cracked his eyes open, blinking to clear his vision. He smiled, rolling onto his side and lifting the covers so she could cuddle up to him.

She crawled under the covers, curling into his body. Her hands found the scar on his left pec, the beat of his heart pounding deep in his chest. "I had a bad dream…" She felt John nod, his lips pressing to the crown of her head as if to say it would be okay. "You were acting funny when they took us to the hospital… why did you do that?"

John's heart ached, the craving for a high hitting his like a train. He took her hand, placing her palm against his as he fought the itch. He stretched his fingers out, noticing that Amelia had long thin fingers that were perfect for the piano. He tried to focus on her by his side and ignore the ache for a high.

Come on Bender, what happened to the badass that you used to be? Look at you… cuddling with a little snot nosed kid. You used to hate kids. Especially the ones like her. Fucking richy. The voice of the old John spoke in the back of his head. You know where to go. You know where the dealer's territories are. You can get your hands on something. And if not… there's always booze. Remember Ouzo? That stuff from Greece that Beverly kept locked away when she could afford it? How it burned like fire going down, but it tasted like heaven? Remember the buzz? It killed the pain. It might kill the guilt too.

Amelia rolled away from him, leaving him free to move. He slowly lifted the blankets, swinging his feet onto the floor. He curled his toes into the carpet, trying to ground himself and escape his demons. He closed his eyes, trying to picture something other than his cravings. He tried to see his Claire… picture her red hair… but the image always became a bottle, or a needle, or a joint. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get those demons out.

He pushed himself up off of the bed, walking out of his bedroom. He paused in the hallway, looking down the hall toward the stairs, before turning his head toward the room at the end of the hall where Clarissa were sleeping. He had the feeling that he was at a cross roads… one road would take him to a place of euphoria, but only with the help of drugs and booze… the other, would take him to safety and joy of a different kind.

He sighed, turning toward Clarissa and Thomas's room. He knocked on the door, slowly pushing it open. "M-om?" He croaked, flinching as she shot up.

She squinted at him, reaching for the glasses she only wore at night to see better. "Oh… John…" She sighed, motioning him forward as she turned on her bedside lamp. "You scared me." She took in the look on his face, instantly sensing that something was wrong. "What's the matter?" She motioned him closer, letting him sit on the bed as Thomas snored deep in his sleep.

He leaned his head on her shoulder, ashamed of what he was fighting. "Mo-re."

Clarissa rubbed her hand over his arm. "Bad?"

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to focus on her touch.

Clarissa felt the fight going on inside of him, his muscles tightening with every breath. "Would you like to stay with us tonight?" She asked, cracking a smile as Thomas snored so loud, he woke himself up. "I don't think Tommy would mind too much."

Thomas gave a tired smile as John crawled onto the bed to lay between the adults. "Just don't move around too much, son."

John breathed a laugh, laying on his stomach as Clarissa rubbed circles on his scarred back. He closed his eyes, resting his head on his hands as he started drifting off to sleep.

Clarissa traced the valley of his spine, her heart aching at the pail scarring lacing his back. "Poor baby…"

Thomas nodded, noticing the scarring on his legs and feet for the first time since he'd come to live with them. "When you look at him… you can see why he used and drank." He placed an old knit blanket over John's legs and hips, letting the weight settle on the boy's body. "I can't imagine the pain he's felt…"

Clarissa sighed, turning her light out. "I just wish he hadn't had to use and drink like he did. I hope that isn't brought up at the meeting with Toby's parents tomorrow." She lifted her gaze to look at her husband, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Do you think that's why he's having these cravings? He's stressed about all of us having to talk to them?"

Thomas felt John shift, happy that the boy was starting to feel safer around him. "I just hope he doesn't cave…" He remembered the gangsters on the walk to John's new job, the look of want in John's eyes. "I don't want to see him go through detox again." He remembered the seizures, realizing that it'd been almost a week since he'd had one. "I don't want to hear him beg for death anymore."

Clarissa brushed her fingers through John's hair, remembering the night that she'd spent forcing him to live when he wanted to give up. "He's stronger than we think. He could have run out tonight, but he came to us." She yawned, looking at the clock to see that it was after midnight. "It's a big step toward him getting better. I'm going to sleep."

He leaned over John, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she settled into her dreams. "Goodnight, Cinnamon Bear."

"Goodnight, Tiger." She smiled, resting her hand on John's back and letting Thomas place his hand over hers as she drifted off into her slumber.