Color Blind

Chapter Twenty-Two

AN: Alice in Chains. 'Sickman'. Should be pretty self-explanatory. Try the Hollywood '92 version: goddamn, it's beautiful.

ALSO, I have a new book out! One Sunny Afternoon is now available for purchase for Amazon Kindle. The link is on my profile (I'd go get it and put it here, but my internet is reeeeaaaalllllyyyy slow and I can barely go anywhere right now.)

* * *

Nancy stumbled out the next morning feeling like a zombie. The kitchen was spinning a little and her eyelids simply would not stay open. She'd have to call in today...but not before coffee. She needed to be semi-coherent before speaking.

She was on her way back to her room when she caught sight of Cole. He was still asleep on the sofa, the blankets bunched down around his hips and his shirt bunched up around his shoulders.

It took her a minute to remember why he was there and why she shouldn't panic and call the police. On the bright side, the shock had given her a very effective wake-up.

She stood there for a minute, just looking at him, until it became apparent that he wasn't waking up anytime soon. That was probably for the best.

She shuffled into the room and set her coffee down. He didn't stir. Up close, she could see that he was tense and shaking and she bit her lip. She could also see the scars and bruises that dotted his back. Most of them looked like they'd come from belts or hard objects. The remaining few were undecipherable.

Christ, he was skinny. No wonder he was shivering. He looked worse than she did by far, and she was as far from the curvy scale as it was possible to get these days. She'd had to revert to her seventh-grade bras, for crying out loud!

Pulling his shirt back down was too close for comfort and besides, she didn't want to wake him. She did, however, manage to pull the blanket up to his shoulders without touching him. He didn't so much as move a finger and she grabbed her coffee and scurried back to her room.

* * *

Nancy had barely gotten off the phone with Dr. Grey when there was a burst of coughing from the other room. She got off the bed and went out, wondering what she should say.

"Cole?"

He was lying on his back now, one hand gripping the blanket and the other hand wrapped around his stomach. Flu? No...oh.

Lovely. She would be experiencing heroin withdrawal right here in her apartment. Talk about hands-on learning.

She ducked back into the bathroom and came out with the bucket. She had made use of this more times than she cared to remember recently and it had held up fine.

"Here." she said. "If you're gonna be sick, try to aim for the bucket."

He cracked his eyes open halfway.

"N-Nancy...when'd you get here?"

"You're in my apartment, Cole. Remember?"

If he did, he was cut off by a wave of gagging. Nancy stepped back just as he rolled over and threw up. When he was finished, he just lay there with his head hanging off the bed. Oh, boy.

"I'll be right back."

He didn't even blink. When she came back, she had to wonder if he'd fallen asleep like that. She hoped not.

She set the bucket down by his head and he looked up.

"I need a fix."

"No."                 

"Nancy..."

"No."

He slid back onto the bed and closed his eyes again.