Falling Away

Chapter 8

By Voodoo Queen

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I'm happy to bring you the eighth chapter in this little ME saga. As usual, I'd like to give a huge thank you hug to those who took the time to review the last chapter: Kasuka-chan. I want you to know that I do read every one of your comments and I do consider all of the suggestions and criticism you provide. I'd also like to thank all of you who either added this story to your favorites or your alert list. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my own original characters and my measly, little plot. All the good stuff belongs to their respective copyright holders.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Once Kolyat was finally able to force his eyes open, he immediately hissed in pain and squeezed them shut again. The light streaming in from the window above his head had fallen across his face and had felt like two red-hot daggers being stabbed through his eyeballs and into his brain. His right arm, seemingly of its own accord, shot out to fumble desperately for the drawstring that hung near the bed. After a couple flailing attempts he managed to tangle the twine in his fingers and yank the curtains closed, shrouding the room in blessed darkness. Though his eyes no longer felt like they were on fire, his head pounded with a ferocity he had seldom ever felt. That, however, he thought he could live with at least until he could get his bearings.

Gingerly, Kolyat pushed himself up on his elbows. Even that slight movement caused the world to spin precariously and his stomach to clench in protest. It took a moment of intense concentration and willpower for him to convince both his addled brain and his queasy stomach that the room wasn't tilted off its axis and that it was safe to take a look around. Doing so, however, only served to remind Kolyat why he wasn't normally a drinker…problems or no.

As a drell, Kolyat remembered everything, even things he desperately wished that he could forget. His memory of the night previous, however was full of holes and inconsistencies due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed in what had been a relatively short amount of time. Those blank spaces in his consciousness in which he couldn't remember where he had been or what he had done were unsettling to say the very least. Finding himself in his bedroom with no clear recollection of how he had come to be there had him on edge. The last semi-clear thing he could remember was getting into a small argument with the waitress over how much he'd had to drink and then he'd been home sick from school and his mother had been….

"Damn it," Kolyat cursed and blinked away the memory that threatened to rear its ugly head uninvited once again. Alcohol induced solipsism, he deduced. It figured that it would have been one of his deepest darkest memories, one of his most painful. He was sure he'd probably broken down inside of Flux like a blithering idiot for everyone to see. He would now have to add the nightclub to his mental list of places to avoid like the plague. To that end, it was probably best that he didn't remember, he mused. Still, he was at a loss to explain how he had gotten from point A to point B.

Bracing himself for the disorientation that was sure to follow, Kolyat rose to a full sitting position. In doing so, the light sheet fell away from his body to reveal his naked chest. For one brief moment, he felt something akin to panic at the thought that he had, perhaps, finally given in under duress and brought one of the women from the nightclub home with him. It wasn't that he was a virgin, certainly he'd gotten quite familiar with a couple girls back on Kahje, but the thought of a stranger, from a bar no less, invading his space made him feel strangely violated in a way he couldn't quite put words to. More so due to the fact that he couldn't remember engaging in any such activities.

His worries seemed unfounded, however, when he finally managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and found that he was still wearing the pants he'd had on the previous evening minus his boots. He breathed an honest sigh of relief. It seemed that in his inebriated state he'd at least had enough fortitude to repel the advances of the opposite sex. The last thing he needed on top of everything else, he groused, was some female hanging around and getting in his way.

Standing finally, he fought a brief battle against the accompanying wave of dizziness and nausea before shuffling his way toward the bathroom. His bladder was screaming at him that it had been pushed to well beyond its capacity and the inside of his mouth tasted like a sewer and he was sure his breath smelled even worse. He desperately needed to relieve the pressure in his lower abdomen and scrub his teeth. Entering the bathroom and flipping the light on, however, caused his stomach to drop and all thoughts of dealing with his present physical discomfort to immediately evaporate.

It seemed innocent enough at first glance, thoughtful even to the untrained eye. A vial of pain relievers sat beside of bottle of water on the counter next to the bathroom sink. Both rested atop what looked to be a ragged scrap of paper torn hastily from a notebook. There was nothing overtly malicious about the scene and Kolyat was hard pressed to explain his sudden feelings of anxiety and, dare he say, embarrassment. Another look around the small bathroom only added to his feelings. His missing shirt lay on top of the laundry hamper along with a towel and a small washcloth emanating the unmistakable scent of regurgitated alcohol. When the smell hit his nose Kolyat felt his stomach being to protest once again in memory of the night before. Swallowing down the bile in his throat he reached with unsteady fingers toward the items left on the sink when a disjointed and fractured memory fragment hit him like a ton of bricks.

XXXXXXXXXX

The sounds of the struggle downstairs had stopped some time ago but his fear kept him rooted to the spot for what seemed like hours before he finally mustered up enough courage to leave his hiding spot and go in search of his mother. She had told him to stay hidden no matter what and he was a good boy. He always did what was asked of him. He was always eager to please, especially his mother. He always obeyed without question but he was so frightened. He needed someone, he needed his mother to tell him that everything was going to be alright. He wanted her to gather him up in her arms and tell him that father would be home soon. Father would know how to fix this and everything would be fine again. He'd wanted to hear her say those words so desperately but mother only stared at the ceiling, asleep with her eyes open and her mouth agape in a silent scream. Her body was bent in ways that he'd never seen before, ways he hadn't thought were possible, ways that couldn't be comfortable. How could she sleep in such a state? Sticky red coated the front of her once yellow dress. Sticky red was everywhere but still she wouldn't get up.

"I can't get her to wake up," Kolyat stumbled and his stomach lurched. His throat burned as the contents of his stomach made their way back up the way they'd come. He braced himself in the bathroom doorway, retching all over himself and all over the floor. "What am I going to do? She won't wake up and father isn't home," he croaked once he'd caught his breath. "He's never home…"

"Shh," a presence to his left soothed. An arm encircled his waist seemingly without any care for the mess he's made of himself and the floor, and guided him the rest of the way into the bathroom. "You're alright now. You're home, you're safe…"

"He left us," he whimpered. Tears burnt in his sensitive eyes like acid. "He's gone and she's so cold." He seemed to come to a sudden panicked realization. His breathing hitched in his chest, "I'm alone…"

"It's okay," the feminine voice tried to alleviate his fears. "You're not alone. I'm right here."

He feels himself propped against the sink now. Careful hands work the closures on his shirt and push the soiled garment off of his shoulders. The comforting presence moves away then and immediately he feels the absence. He reaches out to try to grasp it, to pull it back to his side but is thrown off balance instead. The sudden movement causes his stomach to rebel once again. The other soul in the room seems to sense his distress and is back by his side again all in the span of a heartbeat.

Vaguely, he's aware of the sound of running water but was more concerned with the warm body next to his own. The why's and how's of how they had come to be with him in his small, cramped bathroom didn't matter so much as did the fact that he wanted them to remain thus. He opened his mouth to share his seemingly random train of thought but instead of words he found himself heaving once again.

Hands gripped his arm, pulling urgently. Those same hands were on his shoulders now, pushing him down, forcing him to his knees and urging him to lean forward. He lost it then. The contents of his stomach erupted from his mouth to splatter into the toilet bowl before him. The person kneeling next to him seemed unaffected, however. One of their hands rubbed calming circles between his shoulder blades on the bare skin of his back while the other pressed something wonderfully cool and damp against his burning forehead. He only got to enjoy the sensations for a fleeting moment before he was once again hunkered down over the toilet wracked with the after-effects of his ill-fated evening.

It was several long, agonizing minutes before the heaving in his guts died down enough that he could draw breath to speak. "Don't," he whispered and the gentle hands immediately stopped in their ministrations. He shook his head, clenching his jaw against the dizziness such a small movement brought. That wasn't what he'd meant. He tried again. "Don't," he managed. "Don't leave me…"

"Everything's going to be okay, Kolyat," hesitantly the voice spoke as their hands slowly resumed their duties. "You're okay. I'm not going anywhere."

XXXXXXXXXX

Kolyat had broken out into a cold sweat and his entire body trembled as he blinked away the last vestiges of fragmented memory. Without much thought, he reached for the pain relievers, popped the top off of the vial with his thumb and tossed three of them into his mouth. Tossing the vial of pills back onto the sink, he reached for the bottle of water with his other hand. He twisted off the lid and pitched it into the trash before proceeding to gulp down half of the bottle. His dark eyes settled then on the scrap of paper and he felt dread settle into his gut.

He may not have inadvertently brought a stranger home to bed them but someone had certainly dragged his sorry carcass back to his apartment. To add insult to injury, or rather humiliation, they had cared for him as if he were a helpless child while he'd been puking his guts out due to his own irresponsible actions. He almost wished he had woken up naked in bed next to a nameless stranger. A night of drunken passion was, at least in his mind, easier to write off and push to the back of his mind than was putting all of his inner-most demons on full, glorious display for all of the world to judge and observe.

He didn't want to do it. What he wanted to do was snatch the paper up, crumple it, throw it in the trash, and pretend last night had never happened. Instead, with unsteady fingers he plucked the paper up from where it lay. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he unfolded the note and began to read. Each simple line only added more shame and humiliation to that which he already felt at being caught so vulnerable and unaware.

Hi Kolyat,

You may not remember me-what am I saying? Of course you do! Anyway, to make a long story short, my friend and I were at Flux last night. I saw you there and you didn't look like you were having a very good time. I got your address from your omni-tool (you left it unlocked…hope you don't mind) and made sure you got home. I left you some pain killers and a bottle of water which I'm sure you've found if you're reading this. I figured you'd need them worse that I do when you wake up.

Take care,

Amanda Allen

Kolyat wasn't sure if he was more angered or relieved that the stranger who had helped him home hadn't been that much of a stranger after all. It had been an entire week since he'd knocked on her door asking for a donation for the Counsel's charity. They'd only encountered one another twice prior to that and neither occasion could be considered especially friendly. When he'd stepped into her apartment that day, however, she hadn't seemed the least bit put off by his past behavior. In fact, she had barely even mentioned in passing that they'd met before. It was much the same with the letter he still clutched in his hands, omitting all the bad parts and Kolyat was certain there had been more of those than what he could recall at the moment. There was, for whatever reason, something almost comforting in the knowledge that she had been there despite the gnawing sense of violation he felt but he didn't want to dwell on that too much.

Deciding that he had to do something besides stand there and contemplate his own shortcomings, he relieved himself finally before quickly stripping himself of the rest of his clothing and hopping into the shower. He turned the water on as hot as he could physically stand and stood beneath the spray with his eyes closed allowing it to pelt down upon him. Steam wasn't good for drell, or water in general, but he could imagine the deluge of hot water rinsing away all of the painful things that plagued him and sending them swirling down the drain. He stood beneath the stream until the water began to turn cold forcing him to quickly scrub away the remaining scents clinging to his scales from the previous night before the water became too frigid to tolerate.

Stepping from the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist before moving to the sink to tackle the horrible taste in his mouth. His brushed his teeth with urgency wishing nothing more than to rid himself of the fermented taste of alcohol and vomit that still clung to his tongue as a reminder of the previous night. When he was satisfied with the result, he moved back into his bedroom to search for something to wear.

It was a simple decision, really. He hadn't brought much with him when he'd come from Kahje. Two sets of civilian clothes and two sets of C-Sec trainee uniforms made up the extent of his wardrobe. One set of civilian clothes lay in the bathroom covered in vomit and he didn't have to report to Bailey today which greatly aided in his decision making. He supposed he could go out and shop for some new attire since he was apparently going to be on the Citadel much longer than he'd anticipated but he really didn't see much point in it. He didn't care. It wasn't like he was trying to impress anyone.

Kolyat dressed quickly but he wasn't sure what to do with himself now. His anger over the meeting with his father yesterday had dulled considerably under the circumstances and had been mostly replaced with a feeling of indignity and mortification over the actions that had followed. He was better than this, he scolded himself. He shouldn't care. He shouldn't allow the man to infuriate him so…drive him to cause himself such embarrassment. He shouldn't care, he kept telling himself, but he did and last night's events were one more thing Kolyat had found to hold against his father.

He could feel the uneasiness settling back into his bones as he moved through the small apartment and out into the main living area. There he once again found himself at a loss. A lump of emotion formed in his throat and he tried in vain to swallow it back down. The mess he had made in his fit of rage was nowhere to be seen. The books that had littered the floor had been neatly rearranged back upon the shelf. More importantly, perhaps, the alabaster carving of Arashu that his father had gifted him with had been rescued from where it had been discarded on the floor. Kolyat hadn't been sure where to place it when he'd first received it but seeing it now, perched on the wide sill of the small window to the right of the bookshelf where the ambient light from outside could stream in an illuminate the pure, white stone, he felt he couldn't have found a more appropriate place for it if he'd tried. When he'd woke earlier, he'd been uncertain as to what his next step should be. If he had felt confused before, he now felt utterly lost and alone. Gazing at the statue of Arashu, however, he could sense the first pricklings of long discarded hope forming in his mind. He now, at least, had some idea of how he would be spending his morning.

End of Chapter 8