Housekeeping for the Heroin addict {Libby}

[Charlie Pace]

In the state of half-awakeness, Charlie felt his head lull to the side. The drugs...god, the drugs were better than anything on the planet. "Fuuuuuck." he groaned deepily, the feeling spreading through every inch of his body and settling in the pit of his stomach. He felt his body sink deeper into the couch, and a slow smile spread on his face as his arm moved to fall off the couch. Charlie moved as if through water, and unhooked the strap on his arm. A slow sigh escaped his lips as his eyes slipped closed. "Oh...sodding christ."

He heard the knock on the door, and he managed to slur something out, unintelligable, but the knocking continued. He couldn't find the energy to care, however, he heard the door open, and he felt himself sit up slowly to look at the door. The woman who stood at the door made Charlie smile. "Oh, heeeey, lovely." Charlie said to Libby. He blinked, swallowing. "You," he started surely, though his words were slowed. "are looking particularly lovely today, darling."

A smile spread onto his lips as he stood up, the needle dropping to the floor as he stumbled over to the kitchen table to pour himself a drink.

[Libby]

Another day, another dollar, but things weren’t so bad lately as they had been when she’d first started the job. In the first few weeks she had Nancy breathing over her shoulder with every move she made, criticising even the slightest mistake. And then there were the other staff who avoided her as much as they could. The rumour mill raged, and they were afraid of her. It hurt, but it also angered her. Like anyone in this crazy world was truly sane anymore.

Lately she was getting a little lenience, though. She was allowed to clean her own rooms now without supervision and some of them didn’t even get checked afterwards anymore. But this new bit of freedom wasn’t the only thing that made the days a little better.

There was him.

Most of the guests ignored her or treated her like she was beneath them, but he talked to her, made her feel special. Of course, he didn’t know about her, but his closet was far from free of demons either. She had seen the paraphernalia, and cleaned up after his messes countless times. Maybe that was why he treated her as he did, as a friend; to buy her silence, but she doubted it. She doubted it, and it didn’t matter anyways. She could probably count on one hand the number of friends she had at the moment, so even if he didn’t really care about her, he still treated her well and sometimes that was enough.

Stopping her cart outside his room, she raised her hand and knocked, calling out the required “Housekeeping”. She could barely hear him on the other side, but she knew the drill by now. For her the door was open.

Stepping into the room with an armload of clean towels, Libby closed it behind her. Immediately her eyes were drawn to Charlie, but although his compliment brought a shy smile to her lips and a faint brush to her cheeks, and even though she was happy to see him, it still hurt every day. She hated medication, drugs, anything to dull the senses. Too many days they had kept her sedated or lethargic at the institution, and for what? She wasn’t crazy. She’d had a few... incidents, but did that make her crazy? No! She was fine. She was perfectly sane, and could probably even do their job better than them. All they did was hand out pills. Anyone could do that.

Her head twitching slightly, she closed her eyes and forced away the negative thoughts. She did not need to start down that path again. The results weren’t always pretty.

“Thank you,” she accepted, although she didn’t believe it. She looked the same as any other day. Not much to look at with such a drab uniform. Setting the towels on the small table by the door, she followed Charlie with her eyes. “How was the show last night?”

[Charlie Pace]

She was the crazy one. That's what one of the maids, Rebecca he remembered, had said when Charlie had been fucking her. 'That Crazy bitch who I don't even have a clue why Nancy lets her stay' the girl had said. However, as Charlie downed the glass of gin and looked over at Libby, she didn't look any crazier than the rest of the people around Los Angeles. And Charlie had sure seen crazier people.

Libby spoke of the show, and Charlie smiled, grabbing the bottle and making his way back to the couch. He flopped down onto it, closing his eyes with a sigh. "Oh, smashing, love. Completely fab." he opened his bloodshot eyes and looked to her. "And now, how come I don't see you there any time? Sure, I saw that girl Rebecca there. But of course, she only wanted one thing." Well, if you included the drugs, two things...

Charlie looked over the armrest of the couch, seeing Libby now upside down, and it made him smile widely. "You know...they say you're crazy." Charlie said, but it wasn't mean-spirited or spiteful. It was simply a statement. "I don't think you're crazy. You look pretty normal to me." He motioned slowly. "Sit down. You, uh...you want a drink or something? It must be bloody boring cleanin' all those rooms."

[Libby]

The truth was, Libby would have loved to see one of Charlie’s concerts. She hadn’t actually even known who Driveshaft was, or heard any of his music until she had started working here. Since then she had picked up a couple CDs, and while it wasn’t really her type of music, it was fun. The kind of soundtrack to a lazy day, or perhaps to a crazy night out. It would be a good time, she was sure, but not for her. Concerts were always so crowded, and she didn’t like being crammed in, unable to move, with a whole bunch of sweaty people writhing and jumping all around her. The very thought of it was almost enough to cause her to panic. And then there was the drugs and the alcohol, both of which she preferred to avoid. And the noise. It would be so loud. She wouldn’t be able to hear herself think, and she needed to hear that voice because how could she function if she couldn’t hear her own thoughts?

It was regrettable, as she was certain he was amazing on stage, but she knew she would never see it.

“There are so many people there, how would you know if I made an appearance or not?” Libby replied with a bit of a teasing smile. Even doped up he was cute, the way he was looking at her, but her smile didn’t last long as he said the one thing she never wanted to hear from his lips.

"You know...they say you're crazy."

Crazy. He knew she was crazy... or that people thought she was, rather. But who were they? It had to be her coworkers. Those stuck up little bitches just had to ruin everything.

“I’m not crazy,” Libby replied forcefully, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I’m not. I...”

She didn’t want to lie to him, his whole life was laid bare for her every time she walked into the room, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. He said he didn’t believe them, but he could be lying. Nobody wants to tell someone they think is crazy that they’re crazy.

“I... used to work as a psychologist. I dealt with them every day. It... it became too much and I had to stop. I’m only doing this until I decide what to do next,” she explained, the lie coming fairly easily. It was one she had used before, at least the first part. Normally she claimed that this was what she still was, but that wouldn’t work in this case. She was looking again now, and slowly, stiffly, she moved to sit where he indicated.

Loosen up or he’ll get suspicious. We can’t have that, now can we? He has to believe it.

Rolling her shoulders slightly, she forced a convincing smile. “No thanks, no drink. It’s not exactly allowed on the job.”

[Charlie Pace]

"You'd stand out." Charlie said with a smile, and Charlie knew she would. She'd stand out from the band-sluts and the groupies only looking for a quick way to say 'yes, I slept with so and so'. Charlie knew how to pick these types of girls out of a crowd, and usually they were only good for one thing. Her voice changed, and Charlie opened his eyes, looking to her. "You know," he started, and then closed his eyes once more. "It'd be alright if you were crazy. No one's really normal anymore anyway. It'd be an interesting change." he told her. "Just don't go mental here and we'll be right as rain."

Libby spoke once more, and he made his eyes open. They widened slightly. "Bloody hell. A psychologist, then?" he asked, and shook his head. "Well...that's interesting. Very interesting. I've never met a psychologist before." He looked over at her almost warily. "You aren't going to...like, psycho-anaylize me, are you? 'Cause if so, I'm afraid you'll find my life to be rather on the dull side."

Charlie knew that if he ever rehabed, he'd probably have to see a psychologist. They'd ask him why he did drugs, what happened in his life and what horrors he had witnessed as a child to make him fall down such wicked and horrible paths. Charlie wouldn't have an answer for them, because aside from his Mother's death, his life had been perfect.

"I used to sell copiers. Well, actually," Charlie moved, adjusting himself on the couch slightly to get more comfortable. "I sold copiers for one hour. And then I threw up in one and had to go away."

Charlie brought the bottle to his lips, taking a drink down with a slight grimace. "But it's okay if you're crazy, though. At least it's something you've got that's different from the rest. No one seems to like normal anymore."

[Libby]

Why did he keep talking about it?

I’m not crazy.

Why did he keep talking about her being crazy?

I’m not crazy!

He was coddling her, reassuring her because he believed it!

I’M NOT CRAZY!

“It’s nice to know that you have such an open view on the world, but I’m not crazy,” she said, her smile slightly lopsided as she appeared to relax slightly. Whatever he believed, it didn’t matter. It could just be the drugs talking. He wasn’t exactly normal himself, now was he? But he was a rock star, and anyone famous got the option of being eccentric rather than crazy.

Laughing at Charlie’s story about the copy job, Libby felt herself genuinely relaxing this time, but he just had to keep pushing the crazy card. He just had to keep pushing it and dwelling on it and talking about it until she just wanted to scream. To scream and to yell at him and to hit him.

No.

“I doubt you could ever be dull, but I will keep my professional opinion to myself. I’ve left that all behind me.” If only it were that easy to leave her real life behind her. “You even make a job selling copiers entertaining.”

[Charlie Pace]

Arching an eyebrow, Charlie opened his eyes, looking over at Libby with a half-smile. "Oh, no." Charlie said, sitting up slowly, bringing his knees up to his chest. He pointed at her slightly with a smile. "No, see, now--" he glanced down to see the needle on the floor, and h e picked it up, placing it back in the black case, zipping it shut and tossing it towards the bedroom. "Now I'm interested." he told her, taking another swig from the bottle. "Now I want to know. It's like putting my file right there and telling me not to read it. Temptation isn't one of the Deadly Sins, but it should be." God, how many deadly sins had he broken this week? Sloth, check. He was a lazy sod after all. Envy, of course. Liam had called. Greed? He had told the manager of the club for more money 'cause he needed to pay his habit, so check. Lust? Oh god, yes. Seven times probably just lust, Charlie thought to himself. Wrath...well, he had wanted to kick the ass of a son of a bitch in the club last night, so check. Nearly did, too, Charlie thought. Gluttony...did eating an entire box of Oreos get you a one way ticket to hell?

Pride. That was the one he hadn't felt even as a guilty pleasure in a long time. He hadn't been proud of himself in what seemed like an eternity, even if he had claimed he was.

It would have been interesting to see what Libby thought of him. How fucked up he was. Of course Charlie knew he was fucked up; he had known that a long time ago. And he also knew that in the end, there was no one else to blame but himself. Liam hadn't put the drugs in his nose or in his veins, he had done it himself. Peer pressure and the undying need to be accepted (and in a even more twisted way loved) by his brother had pushed him to do it. So slapping a label on it and saying he had an addictive personality or depression or whatever he figured he had, it wouldn't make it better. But at least it'd give it a better name than Junkie. Charlie Pace, the bi-polar addictive personality type-whatever. Not Charlie Pace, the Heroin Junkie.

"C'mon. Tell me. In your 'professional opinion'," he said the last words with a very overdone uppercrust british accent. "what the bloody hell is wrong with me?"

[Libby]

This time when Libby frowned, she didn’t try to hide it. She had met his type before, and could give a fairly good interpretation of his character, but to lay his issues bare to him... she wasn’t sure he was ready for the honesty of it.

She wished she could help him, but she doubted slapping him with his insecurities and addictions would help. Something needed to be done, though, before it was too late. Some days, when he didn’t answer right away, the fear at what she might find was almost unbearable. She was overstepping her bounds enough as it was, at least where her job was concerned, but did that mean she wasn’t stepping enough as a friend.

“Oh, I don’t know, Charlie,” she said, hesitantly. “I should probably get back to work before Nancy comes looking for me.”

Which she knew wouldn’t happen. Libby always made sure to get all her other rooms done first, as quickly as she could, so she had more time to spend with Charlie at the end of her shift.

[Charlie Pace]

Wait, she was leaving?

Charlie watched as Libby started to move. "H-Hey, wait, don't--" Charlie didn't have friends in Los Angeles. The women he fucked, they weren't friends. Sometimes, he didn't even get their names. Dealers weren't friends...Libby was probably the closest thing to a friend Charlie had. And she was leaving again?

"No, uh, hey," he told her, sitting up as he brought a hand up, rubbing it through his hair. "Stay. Stay for a bit. You, uh...y'don't gotta be back right now, do you?"

Of course she did, Charlie thought with a frown. "What am I sayin'? 'Course you do. Y'don't need to get fired on account of me." It would just be another life he ruined, another mess he made and wasn't able to clean up.

[Libby]

Libby felt her heart warm at how desperate Charlie seemed to spend more time with her. It was almost enough to make her consider going back on the personal vow she had made to herself regarding him. Good thing she wasn’t one of those girls. No good could ever come of it, and there was nothing in the world she would ever do to jeopardise what they had. Most of her friends had disowned her after... Charlie was about the closest thing she had to a friend right now.

Smiling warmly, Libby reached over and gave Charlie’s knee a comforting pat. “I don’t have to leave right now,” she said. “After all, I still have to clean your room.”

Although she chuckled, it was far from a pleasant thought. She appreciated that he had hidden the needle that had been laying around earlier, but she would find the case in the bedroom door, and she knew it was still in it. She loved spending time with him, but she hated cleaning his room. Everywhere she looked was just another reminder of how he was slowly destroying himself.

[Charlie Pace]

She wasn't leaving.

Charlie's lips spread into a smile, and a breath he didn't realise he was holding escaped his lips in a relieved sigh. "Oh, smashing. That's awesome." As she spoke of cleaning his room, Charlie's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, I-I, uh," Charlie told her, sitting up. "N-No. I mean," Charlie let out a slight laugh. "Y'don't gotta clean. I mean, I'd hate to have you work. That would be not nice of me. So just, uh...just stay."

Charlie knew the exact reason why he didn't want her to go into his room. He didn't want her to see. He knew she knew, but deep down, he was ashamed. The only person who looked at him with kind eyes instead of disapproving ones...he didn't want to lose that look in her eyes.

"Just, uh...just stay. Don't clean, it'll be fine. It's not even that dirty, anyway."

Someday you will find me, Caught beneath the landslide, In a champagne supernova in the sky...

Charlie looked over at his phone as the musical tone came from his phone. Grabbing it, he looked at the screen, and sighed out hard, opening and shutting the phone with a frown.

He looked, seeing the look on her face, and tried to play it off. Play it off that it was a wrong number that kept calling, and not his brother who he knew was worried about him. And knew exactly what he was doing. "I, uh...this girl. She won't stop calling me."

[Libby]

The corners of Libby’s lips twitched downward as she tried to hold onto her smile. She had already seen it. So many times she had seen it. The needle had just been laying there, forgotten, when she had walked in, but now he was trying to protect her from the mess that was his life. That was a start, at least he still had the ability to be ashamed, to know it was wrong. There was hope for him yet with the right help.

“It’s my job to clean, Charlie,” she said, forcing the smile back to her lips before letting out a mock sigh of resignation. “But if you refuse my service and insist I just hang out with you instead of cleaning then I suppose I can oblige.”

She tried to give him a reassuring look – whether he knew it or not she was the last person to judge anyone – but he was soon distracted by the melodic ringing of his phone. Watching him curiously, she was surprised when he immediately hung up on whoever was calling him. Was it because she was there? No, then he would have just turned off the ringer. But his following explanation was strange.

“Do you give out our number often to these... girls? I know it’s not my place, but knowing who you are...”

It was just begging for a stalker.

[Charlie Pace]

"No, I don't, I just--" She knew. Or maybe she didn't, and she was being honest. Whatever the case, Charlie's lie hadn't gone over well. A smile spread on his face, though it wasn't happy, however. He wagged a finger at her. "Sneaky." he told her, but then frowned as his cellphone rang again.

A harsh sigh escaped his lips, and he wrenched the phone open, bringing it to his ear. "What?!" he asked sharply. "Li, just--just stop, alright? Stop. I don't want to fucking hear--" Charlie groaned loudly, pressing his face into a pillow. "I am FINE. I'm--"

Charlie suddenlly began to get more angry. "You know what Liam? Don't call me anymore. Just DON'T call me. FUCK OFF."

He tossed the cellphone towards the bedroom, and listened as it thunked off the wall and fell to the floor.

He moved, pushing his head against his shaking hands. He needed another hit. He needed something to take away the words Liam had said. He had a appointment all lined up for a rehab. The same doctor Liam had gone to. It was all lined up, baby brother, just please...please get on the plane.

Charlie moved, grabbing the bottle and taking a long, deep swig before he set the bottle down once again. "I, uh," he started, his voice thick with tears that Charlie wouldn't let fall. "I gotta go to the bathroom."

There was cocaine still in the bathroom somewhere, Charlie knew. He just had to remember where it was.

[Libby]

He must think she was being disapproving of his ‘love’ life. In all honesty, she did greatly disapprove. All those one night stands, it was a good way to set himself up for trouble. All it took was one; one girl to claim to be pregnant with his child or one girl to give him a disease. He was making it too easy for someone to take advantage of him. So yes, she did disapprove, but she didn’t want him to know that. Opening her mouth to protest, she was cut off when the phone began ringing again, the same song as before. Sitting back on the sofa, folding her hands in her lap, she watched him answer.

His tone, expression, words... pretty much everything about this conversation made Libby suddenly uncomfortable. This was something personal that she should not be present for. And when he yelled, she couldn’t help but jump slightly, startled. Liam. Even though Charlie didn’t talk about him, she recognized the name. Liam, Charlie’s older brother and former lead singer of Drive Shaft. She had never asked how the band had fallen out, but she’d heard the rumours. Rumours were something she never allowed herself to believe, though, but she wasn’t about to press about something that was obviously a sore subject. Watching the phone follow the same path the case with the needle in it had, although much more brutally, Libby finally turned her attention back to Charlie with wide eyes. Seeing how upset and shaken he was, her expression softened to one of deep sympathy. His emotional voice broke her heart.

“Charlie, wait,” she implored, grabbing his arm. “I know we don’t normally talk about anything... heavy, but if you want to talk I’m a really good listener.”

[Charlie Pace]

Why didn't she understand? Why didn't she understand that when he took the drugs, for a moment, for a breif and wonderful moment, it didn't matter that he wasn't speaking to his brother. It didn't matter that he refused to see his own flesh and blood...it didn't matter that his life was in shambles. It didn't matter, because the feeling...god, the feeling was so good. It was perfect.

He felt her hand on his arm, and he jerked away for a second, pressing himself back against the couch. "He--" he swallowed, feeling the tears burn. He couldn't let them fall, so he pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes. "About a year ago he went to Australia. The bastard sold my piano, the one that my mother gave me, and went to Australia to rehab. A-And now he wants me to."

He took a breeath in, and felt a laugh escape his lips. "The bastard suddenlly cares about me now that he proved that HE was able to do it. He was able to be the bigger man, the sodding prat that he is and--" And get clean. He knew deep down that Liam didn't get clean for Karen or for himself...it was for Megan.

Sweet little Megan. He hadn't talked to her in at least three months, hadn't seen her in longer and his heart ached. He looked down at the DS ring, the one Liam had told him that he deserved because he'd have the family, he would get married and be happy and live past thirty...

Charlie knew he'd be lucky to live past Christmas.

Charlie sniffed in slightly and moved, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a picture of Megan, smiling and happy with chocolate cake on her face. He handed it to Libby. "I don't know if I could go back just because I'd have to face her. Liam and Karen, they've...they've seen what happens but...she's so young. How do you lie to someone that little and be able to live with yourself?"