Color Blind

Chapter One

AN: Song for this chapter is Mad Season's Wake Up. I *love* this band. When they rereleased the album with bonus stuff, I started squeeing and clapping like some sort of weird seal-thing. Fortunately, nobody was around to notice.

* * *

Nancy Hale had a headache.

This was nothing new, of course-she always had a headache these days. No matter how many painkillers she took, or how much sleep she tried to get, the headache was permanent.

Forget permanent markers. Headaches are forever.

She wanted chocolate.

Strike that-she needed chocolate, needed it with the need of a thousand starving souls. She wondered if it was possible to die from lack of chocolate.

A quick search through her backpack saved her from finding out and she leaned back in her chair, a plastic baggie of chocolate chips in her hand.

No appointments today. Ugh, it’s going to be slow as hell.

She’d just finished that thought when the door opened and a young man slipped inside. He had black hair that the rain had plastered to ghost-white skin and he was terrifyingly skinny. He was tall and his weight made him look even taller. His clothes hung on him like a scarecrow’s and a pair of worn fingerless gloves hugged his hands. Nancy repressed a shudder. She’d seen some pretty sick patients, but this had to be one of the worst-physically, anyway.

“I need an appointment.” he whispered. His voice sounded as though he never used it and Nancy had to strain to hear him.

“We’ve got an opening right now if you want to wait a minute…”

“Fine.”

“Sign in here and I’ll get you the paperwork.”

She pushed her clipboard towards him and he picked up the pen. One of his sleeves slipped up, revealing a map of track marks along his wrist. She leaned forward to read the signature upside-down.

Cole Martin

His handwriting was spiky and shaky and Nancy dreaded to think of what the forms would look like.

“Okay, Mr. Martin…”

“Cole.” he said quietly. “Please. I’m not used to being…” He coughed and looked down at her through his bangs. “Please.”

“Okay. Cole, then. I’ll need you to fill these out. Do you have insurance?”

“No.”

“Credit card?”

“Cash.”

“Got it. Fill these out and bring them back as soon as you can so we can get you a file set up. Okay?”

He nodded and took the stack of papers she’d pushed towards him.

“Can I bring these back next time, or do I have to do them now?”

“I think you can bring them back next time. Sound good?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Sure. Go sit down, I’ll tell Dr. Grey you’re here.”

He retreated to one of the chairs on the far side of the room and leaned over his knees. Nancy thought he resembled a scarecrow that had been tossed into a corner. Well, there was no point in watching him-she had work to do.

                                                                          * * *

Cole Martin didn’t know how he made it through the naggy questions the doctor hurled at him: How long have you been using? Do you do it socially or alone? Why did you start using?

He’d been careful to give somewhat vague answers where necessary and had made it out unscathed. The secretary-her name tag said Nancy-waved before resuming whatever she was doing on the computer. He barely remembered to wave back.

God, his stomach hurt.

So did everything else, really, but his stomach especially. He felt like he was going to throw up. He hoped not-his father would be mad enough if he found out that Cole had been out. There was no need to throw up in the car.

He made it home before Sean did and he went upstairs to try to sleep. It was supply day, so Sean would be in a good mood. Seeing the dealer always seemed to put him in a good mood.

Cole lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to ignore his increasingly pounding head. His back hurt and he wondered if he should put some ice on the bruise there. Sean had thrown him against the wall the other night and the corner of a picture frame had jammed into his upper back. It hadn’t hurt so badly at the time, but now…Jesus.

Sean’s car pulled into the driveway and Cole dragged himself off the bed to go downstairs. He needed his fix, and he needed it now.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, buddy! How was your day?”

He hated that nickname.

“It was okay.”

Sean had gone to the store, Cole saw. Big deal. There was only one thing he wanted right now, and it wasn’t crackers.

Sean seemed to sense this, and he took forever to put the groceries away. Cole tried to help and was shooed out of the way. He wondered if he would be sick.

Would serve the bastard right. he thought. Come on, come on! You know I’m suffering here.

Finally the groceries were put away and Sean handed Cole a plastic baggie.

“Here you go.”

It was all he could do not to clutch at it and praise God or Jesus or whoever. Instead, he forced a nod and a brief, “Thanks.”

“Sure, buddy.”

He fled to the safety of his room to prepare everything. He wondered if Sean had gotten anything for himself this time and decided he didn’t care. His father usually preferred the bottle, joining Cole only every other month or so. Cole wondered how he’d avoided the pull for so long. Maybe he had a lower dosage? Or maybe the alcohol did it. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Right now he wanted nothing more than to ease the aches running through his body.

He didn’t get high off of this shit anymore, and he knew that every time he shot up his chances of an overdose increased. It didn’t matter anymore. Besides, he was trying to get help. That counted for something. He would start tapering off tomorrow.

Yeah. Tomorrow.