Chapter 13

The doctors came in to check Mordecai's wounds and physical condition early the next morning. They determined that there was no need for him to remain hospitalized and said that he could go home, ordering him to take it easy for a few days. The pushed the issue of rehab, but once again he refused. He felt confident that he could get through this on his own.

Mordecai called Skips to come pick him up, then spent some time at Rigby's bedside before leaving. The raccoon's condition hadn't changed overnight. His vitals were stable, but he was still unresponsive. "I've gotta go now, dude, but I'll be back to see you soon. I know you're going to pull though this in no time. I can't wait to kick your butt at Dig Champs when you come home. You can even be player one if you want. Just once though cause I hate using that lame pickaxe. See you later, bro." It was killing Mordecai to see him this way, but he tried to keep the mood lighthearted and encouraging just in case his friend could hear him.

It had been over twenty-four hours since his last hit and he was beginning to feel the first effects of the withdrawals. The morphine in the hospital had helped some, but now that had been taken away from him as well. He was developing aches and pains and felt like he was coming down with the flu as his body tried to recover from the toxin. Though he felt very jittery and on edge from his craving, he tried to hide it as they drove home in Skips's Volkswagen van.

"How are you holding up?" Skips asked.

"I'm fine. I feel great." Mordecai lied.

"You don't have to lie to me, Mordecai. I know what happens during detox."

"How do you know so much about addiction and detox, Skips?"

"I'm over 200 years old. I've had my fair share of experience with this kind of thing. I've been addicted to a couple of different things during my lifetime. It never gets any easier getting clean again either."

"So why did you do it again after getting clean the first time?" Mordecai wondered.

"Life throws curbs, Mordecai. Like I told you yesterday - no one ever intends to become an addict. These things just have a way of happening. Once you're an addict, you're always an addict. The craving never truly goes away and as soon as you give into it, you'll be right back where you started. You'll always have to be careful not to fall into the trap again. I can't say that I always heeded my own advice, but at least I managed to get clean each time before I got too far gone."

"Wow, Skips. I never knew." Mordecai said.

"No one knows that about me until they have a need to know. I would appreciate it if it remained that way."

"Sure thing." Mordecai promised. They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

They arrived at the park house to find everything business as usual. Muscle Man and High Fives were off planting trees in the back of the park, Pops was tending to the flower beds and Benson was in his office. Mordecai began to climb the stairs to his bedroom. His injured wing was throbbing, he felt sick and he wanted to be alone to work through the scorching desire he had for another hit.

"Mordecai, I need to see you in my office." Benson's voice called from the base of the stairs.

Mordecai nervously started back down. This was the first time he had spoken with his boss since they found him in the woods after the accident. He silently followed Benson back to his office and watched as the gumball machine shut the door behind them. Benson then took a seat behind his desk and simply stared at him for a few seconds with a strange look of anger mixed with sorrow.

"Mordecai, you need to get your stuff and go." Benson said point blankly.

"What?" The blue jay sounded confused. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear.

"I said you need to go. You're fired, Mordecai."

"WHAT?" Mordecai repeated, eyes widening in alarm. Benson was always saying he was going to fire him for one thing or another, but he knew that this time was no empty threat.

"Park Policy states that anyone caught doing illegal drugs must be immediately terminated. And the drugs are just the half of it. You completely destroyed the cart, which is park property. Mr. Maellard is outraged that we have to buy new one! Not to mention that you seriously injured and endangered the life of another park employee. You're fired, Mordecai! Now get out!" Benson quickly averted his eyes with a pang of guilt. He didn't like doing this to Mordecai, but he had no choice.

"Benson, please!"

"No! I don't want to hear your excuses. You nearly killed your friend, Mordecai! We can't have that kind of thing happening around here because you feel like getting high!" Benson shouted. He met Mordecai's eyes once more, but immediately regretted it when he saw the tortured look in them.

"You're right, Benson Everything you just said is true. I have been seriously screwed up and made some really stupid decisions. I did almost kill my best friend. We're still don't even know if he's going to be okay. I'm so sorry for everything. You have to believe that. The last thing I ever wanted was to wreck the cart and hurt Rigby. I would give anything to take it all back." Mordecai's voice briefly wavered with emotion. "Please just give me one more chance though. I'm going to get clean. You guys and this job are all I have!"

Benson's features softened with empathy. He felt for Mordecai, but there was nothing that he could do to help him. "I'm sorry, Mordecai, but it's out of my hands. If Mr. Maellard found out that I let you stay after all that's happened, he would fire me."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry. Maybe if you can get clean for a few months we can talk about giving you your job back again.

"Okay." Mordecai slumped his shoulders in defeat and turned to leave the office. "Sorry about everything, Benson. I really am."

"Me too." Benson picked up a cell phone from his desk. "Here's your phone. We found it in the woods by the cart." He handed it to the blue jay. "Please take care of yourself and get some help, Mordecai."

Mordecai didn't respond, but simply took the phone and let himself out of the office, shutting the door behind him. He climbed the stairs to his room and sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, wondering what he was going to do. He had nowhere to go. 'Maybe I can stay at Jessica's place for a while,' he thought, but deep down he knew that would be a mistake. Being around her and her friends would only further his dependence on the drugs that he desperately needed to be free from.

Mordecai plugged the dead cell phone into the charger on the nightstand and turned it on. The phone began to beep wildly, showing that he had several missed texts from Jessica over the past two days

"Coming Over?...Where r u?…. The party has started!...everything ok?...Missed u last night… Coming 2nite?" Mordecai read all the messages. He didn't respond to any of them. Instead, he dialed her number.

"Hey Mordecai. Where have you been?" Jessica's concerned voice came through the phone line.

"Hey, Jessica. We need to talk. Some really serious stuff happened yesterday. I don't think I'll be coming over anymore. "

"Why, what's going on?" Jessica sounded confused.

"I've been in the hospital. I got into an accident while I was high. My best friend is in a coma because of it. My boss found out about the drugs because they did a blood test on me in the hospital. Now I'm out of a job."

"Oh man, I'm really sorry to hear that. That's harsh. "Jessica said genuinely. "But why aren't you coming over anymore? Do you need a place to stay until you find a new job?"

"I do and I appreciate the offer, but I can't stay with you, Jessica. I can't see you anymore. I have to get my life straight and that won't happen as long as I'm hanging out with you."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line as Jessica seemed to consider what he'd told her. "Wow, really? So somehow it's all my fault that your life is fucked up now?" She finally spoke, her voice dripping with anger.

"No! That's not what I meant! I did this to myself, but I know I won't stop using as long as I'm around you guys. This shit has ruined my life… You should stop using too before the same thing happens to you."

"Thanks for the advice, mom, but I don't need you telling me what I should do." Jessica spat, then hung up the phone.

Mordecai sighed. He didn't intend for things to end badly with her. He was only trying to help, but he knew that he would have had the same reaction if someone had confronted him that way a few days ago. He was just as guilty of not being able to see the problem until it was too late. He wished they could remain friends, but their entire relationship revolved around drugs so he had to cut all ties with her if he intended to get clean.

Suddenly, he started to panic as the realization set in that he had cut off his drug supply when he told Jessica goodbye. The abrupt knowledge that he couldn't easily get more drugs caused his heart to race. His hands started to shake and he broke out in a cold sweat. He lay down on the bed, breathing heavily, and waited for the feeling to pass. "You don't need it…look where's it's got you..." he tried to talk himself down. After several minutes of wondering if he was having a heart attack, his pulse finally began to slow down to and the anxiety passed.

After he calmed down, Mordecai spent a few minutes thinking about the irony of the situation. On one hand he wanted nothing to do with the drugs, yet on the other hand the reality of not having access to them terrified him.

It seemed like he was moving through a dream sequence when he shakily rose from the bed. He grabbed a suitcase from the closet and started throwing his personal belongings in it. An intense wave of nausea hit him, a result of the withdrawals, and he had to stop and run to the bathroom where he got violently sick. He was weak with sweat dripping from his forehead when he was finally able to return to the bedroom to continue packing. He would have been happy to lie down in his bed and stay there until this hell was over, but he no longer had a bed that he could call his own to lie down in.

Mordecai opened the nightstand drawer to find three prepared syringes of heroin stored in the back under some papers. They were the last of his supply. "Pour it down the drain!" A voice inside His head ordered. He picked them up and rolled them around gently in his fingers, examining them with a look of longing in his eyes. "But it would be so easy to feel good again…What else have you got to lose?" He wrestled with his own thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut and quickly pushed the idea out of his mind, fighting off the intense urge. However, he still couldn't bring himself to dispose of the syringes. He grabbed a shirt and thoughtfully wrapped it around the small vials to protect them, then carefully placed them in his bag.

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A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I have to go back to classes in a couple of weeks and I'm hoping to finished this before then, or the updates will take way longer to come out. Don't worry, I won't rush it though. I don't think there's but 2-3 more chapters anyway, depending on how things go. I know the direction I want to go, but never really know what's gong to happen until I start writing it out. Anyway, let me know what you think. More soon! ~ Summer