Page 44 of Agony

Don’t remember. Don’t remember.

Something hard kicked the door and he stopped what he was doing to lean his hands on each side of the small sink.

With one more bang, the door gave and Rogue was there staring at the mess he’d made. His friend said nothing, but that was the big guy’s way. Echo hovered just behind Rogue’s side.

Fisher snapped on the water and lifted a handful to splash his face.

“Got any drugs?” he mumbled.

“No.” Rogue sighed.

Shoving past Rogue, he stumbled down the hall and out the front door. He took the three flights of stairs down because this place didn’t have an elevator.

Outside was a parking lot filled with cars and the sound of the busy street beyond.

Finding a spot in the sun, he leaned against the building mainly because he was having trouble staying upright. His matted hair caught on the stucco and he grimaced, yanking at the long strands. He should just cut this shit off.

Both Echo and Rogue had followed him and each one again closed in at his sides—leaning against the wall without a word.

“It’s going to be okay, Fish,” Rogue murmured.

“Are you really telling me that this too shall pass?” he spat. It came out slurred.

“What he’s saying is give it time,” Echo cut in.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do,” his words rang with bitterness. “That’s what I always do.”

He had no choice.

Caught in the safety net of his mind, he had to wait.

Leaning his head back, he turned his face to the sun, wondering how many more days of sunlight he had left.

How much longer could he last?

The world tilted and upended and he felt himself falling.

Rogue caught him, of course, and he was lifted.

He welcomed the darkness. His only wish was that it offered him a reprieve from the tormenting memories that waited just around the corner.

A week later, Fisher woke up drunk again.

It was sometime in the early morning, he knew that much.

He had faceplanted on Rogue’s couch last night and the material pressed into his cheek. He’d have a tweed pattern there when he decided to move.

Only he didn’t want to move right then and preferably not for the next six fucking months.

Staying drunk had not worked.

True to form, some of his memories had come back.

Snatches of hot sex with Justice, then a darkness that horrified him. It was so black that no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t penetrate it.

That meant that something very bad had happened that his mind was trying to protect him.

Still unclear on the facts, he knew without a doubt that Justice had somehow betrayed him.

---