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Charlie and James By Ken Anderson

Chapter 12: More Than Time, Part 4 of 4

My stomach churns painfully as I shift uncomfortably under the thick blankets covering the bed. My fur is drenched with cold sweat, and my tail is twitching anxiously. I feel my abdominal muscles tighten as I retch involuntarily, quickly forcing myself onto my side so that my muzzle is tilted towards the floor. Nothing comes up. My whole body shakes, and I stare down at my paws, trembling furiously as I struggle to hold them still. It's happening again...

Like my worst nightmare coming true...

I'm going through withdrawal.

I notice the sun shining brightly through the closed blinds as I squint against the light. This isn't good. I manage to throw my legs over the side of the bed as I lean towards the drawer on the nightstand. With a desperate jerk, I pry it open, and start digging around in the seemingly infinite pile of bright-orange pill bottles. Most of them are empty. Where are my drugs?! If I don't get ahold of something soon, I'm gonna fucking die.

"FUCK!" I roar loudly, as I tear the entire drawer from its resting place and dump its contents out onto the bed. I'm hyperventilating as I sift through the mountain of bottles, tossing every empty container over my shoulders as I search for the one that's filled with those beautiful, life-saving tablets... WHERE IS IT?!

The bottles clatter noisily against the wall as I continue my search. Valium? Gone. Xanax? GONE. Morphine? Empty. Oxy? Fuck, that's empty, too! What the hell do I do now? A pained wail forces its way past my lips as I shove the remaining bottles off the bed and fall back onto the mattress. I'm still shivering; still sweating. My breath comes out in short, panicked gasps as I imagine the seizures, vomiting, and painful cramps that I know are gonna come soon... The thought makes me whimper frightfully, and I find my tail tucking itself snugly between my legs. I let out a soft moan. I'm screwed. So SCREWED. I reach for the framed photograph on the table, next to my half-empty pack of cigarettes. Bringing it close to my face, I take a second to stare at the captured memory, that special moment that has been perfectly frozen in time.

James and I are laying in our bed; this bed. A thick comforter is covering the lower halves of our bodies, as we hold up our hands so that the photographer can see our bright, shiny engagement rings... The picture makes me smile. It was one of our last nights together... The night I got to hold him close, and tell him how much I loved him... It was the night I proposed. I manage a light chuckle as I remember that moment; the warmth of his skin, our cries of surprise as Oz burst into the room with the camera. The picture trembles in my paws as I clutch it firmly to my chest. If only he were here right now...

I'd give anything for him to be here... I'd give it all away, for just a single moment of fleeting joy. Just to hear his soft voice telling me that everything is going to be all right...

I squeeze my eyes closed as I feel the hot tears begin to drip down my cheeks. 'He's gone...' I think to myself. 'And here I am, all alone...'

I curl up into the fetal position on the bed, and brace myself for a day of suffering. I just want it to be over. I just want it to end. I just want someone to help me; to hold me. I want something to take away the pain... Hours go by silently as I lay in bed, passing out, only to awaken just as quickly with an even more powerful feeling of sickness threatening to overtake my senses... I'd even give away my favorite guitar in exchange for a single pill right now... I pull the blanket over my freezing body as I try to go back to sleep. The only thing left to do is ride it out...

All that's left is to let it happen.

All I've got left is my pain.

I must not have heard the front door open. I must not have heard the soft footsteps as they approached the bedroom. I didn't hear the heavy sigh. I feel the mattress depress slightly as someone sits down next to me. I give another whimper and squeeze my eyes shut even tighter as I feel someone's smooth skin stroking the fur on the back of my neck. I can't bring myself to turn and see who it is. I'm too scared; too embarrassed. It's the voice, however, that finally snaps me out of it, and makes my jaw drop.

"My god, Charlie... Four years without me, and you still look like shit..."

I give a gasp of surprise as that soft, gentle drawl fills my ears. My eyes spring open, and the photo drops from my paws as I spin around to locate the source. My jaw hangs open as my eyes drift over him. I reach a paw to my face to wipe away my tears and clear away the blurriness in my vision. Am I dreaming? No... Please don't let this be a dream...

I slowly reach towards his face. My arm flinches as my fur comes into contact with the smooth skin under his jaw. I stroke his cheek gently with the back of my paw, and brush away a strand of greasy, black hair as I stare into those brilliant, green eyes... He gives me a warm smile as he takes my paw in his hand, and directs it onto his chest. I can feel his heart beating steadily beneath his ribcage, almost in tandem with my own as I try in vain to process the familiar figure sitting before me... I notice the bright, platinum band wrapped around his left ring finger as he grips my wrist tightly. Is this really happening? Is he really here? CAN he be here?

"...James?" I whimper.

He nods, and lowers himself onto the bed next to me. I'm speechless as he drags his fingers through the fur on my head and neck, stroking my shoulders as he reaches my chest.

"I told you I'd be home soon." he says.

My mind is reeling with questions as he pulls my muzzle closer. I'm unable to react as he presses his lips firmly to my own, and locks the two of us together in a deep, passionate kiss. I can't take it anymore. I let my body take control as my pent-up lust exits my muzzle in a needy, long-suppressed murr.

I grip the back of his neck firmly as I thrust my tongue into his mouth. He gives a laugh as he allows it to intertwine with his own. I feel my arms wrapping around him and hugging him to my naked chest as we continue to kiss. We stay like this for a couple of minutes, which feel like hours, until we both break away, panting heavily and trying to catch our breath.

"How are you--... Why----...How is this--" I'm stuttering as I try to speak. I'm still in state of shock; I don't know what to say. My mate notices my discomfort, and places a single finger to my muzzle to silence me.

"Questions..." he begins, "We've got all day for questions. Right now, all you need to know is that I'm back. I'm here, and I'm gonna help you. Do you think you can stay here while I run across the street to pick up something from the pharmacy?"

I nod my head quickly. I seem to have lost my voice; I can't form the words...

"Great. Don't move. We're gonna get you fixed up." James tells me, as he frees himself from my embrace, and crosses my arms over my chest. He leans in, and kisses me on the nose. "I love you, rock star."

He's got an ear-to-ear grin across his face as he picks himself up from the bed, and starts walking towards the door.

"I love you, too..." I manage to croak out as he disappears into the living room.

My heart rate has quickened. My breathing has become even more labored. I'm sick; I'm in pain. But I'm smiling. I'm chuckling to myself... I say a silent prayer to whatever deity in the great beyond has made such a thing possible for me.... Such a wonderful moment... He's here... He's back.

My James...My mate... He's come home.

I turn over in bed, and rest my head against one of the soft pillows as I feel the slight hint of drowsiness start to creep over me again. The pain in my body seems to subside a little as I begin to drift away into another dark, silent period of sleep...

---

My heart pounds furiously in my chest as I jerk awake, gasping for air and shaking from the tips of my ears to the soles of my feet. It's gotten worse. I use the blanket to brush away the thick layer of sweat across my forehead. I pause to consider what had happened the last time I awoke. Had it all been a dream? One of fate's cruel jokes? Was any of it real? I don't know...

I reach my arm out from under the blanket, and feel around on the nightstand for my cigarettes. I manage to find the pack and lighter, and pick them up. As I pull them towards my body, I hear a soft 'thud' as my knuckles brush against some solid object, knocking it to the floor. I set the pack on the bed and use a claw to wipe away the fogginess in my vision before leaning over to see what it is.

My head draws back in surprise as I see the bottles of over-the-counter digestive aids lined up neatly on the table. Sitting next to them is a small pill bottle, and I make out the word 'Klonopin' on the label. What's going on here?

My ears suddenly perk up as I notice the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Someone's in the shower. I throw the blanket off and try to get up to check it out, but a sharp pain in my legs immediately forces me down to my knees. I let out a panicked yelp as I fall to the floor, my muzzle throbbing with pain as it impacts the thick carpet covering the wooden floorboards. I try to push myself up, but I can barely manage to lay on my side. It feels like my entire body has been drained of energy. I feel so weak...

The running water stops.

I hear the sound of quick movements as someone steps out of the tub. The swinging metal bar on the towel rack smacks loudly against the wall as they remove the length of thick, heavy fabric. The door opens, and I watch steam pour out into the apartment as a familiar figure steps out of the room. I do a double-take when I see who it is.

It's James. So it wasn't a dream, after all...

He's got a look of seriousness and concern on his face as he makes his way over to me, covered only by the towel wrapped around his waist. I stare at his body, still slick with water, as he comes closer. He's put on some muscle; his physique appears almost athletic, and he looks as if he's been keeping in shape. His hair is dripping water onto the carpet, but it still has that familiar black sheen. I notice that his face has filled in; his cheeks are no longer sunken from his years of endless drug abuse. His green eyes no longer display that glassy shine. My god... My mate looks better than ever. He's still a few inches shorter than I am, but he looks so perfect... I can see that he hasn't removed the ring on his finger before his shower. The skin around it is pale white.

He must never have taken it off since the day I'd given it to him...

"Are you all right?" he asks me, bending over to brush a hand across my forehead and judge my temperature. I nod slowly as he uses his thumb to lift my chin, and checks my pupils. He smiles a little as he catches me staring at him, and motions with his head towards the numerous bottles on the bedside table.

"I got some stuff that's gonna help you out," he says. "But first, let's get you back in bed."

He takes one of my arms around his shoulders, and grips me around the waist with his free hand. I hear him grunt with the strain as he struggles to haul my dead weight off the floor. I reach out for the mattress as he brings me to my feet and sits me down at the edge of the bed. He takes a seat next to me, and lets out an exhausted sigh. I turn to face him. I feel a wave of embarassment wash over me as I realize how pathetic I must look at the moment, and my smile immediately vanishes. My ears droop, and I can't bring myself to look him in the eye. He appears to sense my shame and discomfort, and I feel the warmth radiating from his body as he snuggles up to me, and lays his head down against my shoulder.

"Don't worry, baby... We're gonna get you through this." he reassures me.

I manage to nod once as a quiet whine makes its way past my lips. James nuzzles the fur on my neck lovingly as he reaches out for one of the bottles. I watch him unscrew the cap, before offering it to me.

"Immodium A-D," he explains, "Over-the-counter methadone substitute. It won't do much for the cramps, but it'll take away the nausea and make the withdrawal somewhat less painful. It's a little trick I learned while working at the recovery center. You're gonna have to drink the whole bottle, though... That's why I bought twenty."

I try to take it from his hands, but my paws are shaking so badly that I'm afraid I might drop it. He gives me a somber smile as he raises the bottle to my lips so that I can drink from it. My nose wrinkles at the smell. It stinks. It's like a bottle of liquid menthol, mixed with a sort of disgusting, chemical tang. Still, I open my muzzle, and allow him to pour the sickly-sweet liquid down my throat, swallowing every drop without question. Once the container is empty, he grabs the pill bottle sitting next to them. Popping off the cap with a flick of his wrist, he offers me two pills.

"Klonopin. I know you've got a problem with tranqs, too, not just the painkillers. They're no xanax or valium when it comes to their effects, but they'll keep you from having seizures until we wean you off. It's easier to get clean from one drug at a time, so we're gonna start with the opiates. Don't worry, Charlie... I'm here for you. I'm gonna make sure you get past this. Everything's gonna be OK... Once we get you clean, everything's gonna be so much better, I promise..."

I murr softly as he sets the pills on my extended tongue, before wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me into a gentle hug. I swallow them dry; the bitter taste of the tablets is masked quite well by the disgusting aftertaste of the OTC withdrawal aid. I clear my throat to speak as I stretch an arm behind me to run my claws through his tangled, wet hair.

"I still can't believe you're home..."

He chuckles, and leans forward to kiss me on the cheek. "I'm back for good, baby. From now on, I'm all yours. I'm not going anywhere without you."

His soft-spoken words of kindness make my heart swell with pride. My chest warms as I take in the severity of his response; the sincerity of his promise. I smile, and turn around to stare into those beautiful, emerald-green eyes. He stares back at me with an expression of patience and understanding, and I see that familiar warm smile form across his face once more as our eyes meet.

"I love you," I say. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

"And I love you," he whispers, "But don't think about that. I'm here now, and that's all that matters."

I nod my head as he kisses me on the cheek again. I begin to consider the upcoming week or two of withdrawal; the suffering that I know will come. Suddenly, it doesn't seem too bad. Just knowing that my mate will be here to help me through it has already alleviated some of the pain. As long as I have James with me, I feel as if I can do anything...

Well, almost anything.

"So much for that tour, though..." I mutter, as I think about the string of gigs that have been lined up for the band during the coming week. We were supposed to tour the east coast, playing in every major city along the way. We were getting ready to play in front of thousands and thousands of screaming fans... We were scheduled to go out for a month, and take a couple of weeks off before touring the rest of the country. Unfortunately, in my current state, I don't think I can even lift my guitar, let alone sing.

"Oz would probably be pissed off if he saw me like this..." I mumble.

"Actually, Oz and the guys are totally cool with it," James informs me, "Your tour dates have been moved to next month. He spent a lot of time arguing over the phone with the promoters, but he says he managed to get it done."

I stare at him with a look of amazement and surprise. "You got the tour rescheduled?! Wait, how does Oz know you're back in town?"

He laughs and reaches towards the pack of cigarettes on the bed.

"How do you think I got here, you crazy mutt? The band picked me up from the airport. I called Oz after you passed out, and told him what you were going through. He called me back before I got into the shower. You've been sleeping for several hours; a lot has happened since I first got here..."

I turn my head towards the window, and use a claw to part the blinds. The sun has gone down; the full moon is shining brightly against a star-speckled midnight-blue sky. Wow... I chuckle halfheartedly as I consider my fitful, dreamless sleep.

"You're amazing..." I tell him. "You really are... amazing."

He lifts his chin from my shoulder, and uses a hand to turn my head towards his. We lock lips once more in a sweet, gentle kiss. He breaks it several seconds later, and strokes the fur under my chin softly.

"I'm your mate," he reminds me. "I have to take care of you. You'd do the same for me."

I can't help the ocean-wide grin spreading across my face. It's been so long since I've heard him refer to himself as my mate. After four long years of not having him around to profess my love and satisfy my lust, I'm starting to feel a slight arousal in my boxers as he runs his fingers through the soft fur on my chest.

The Immodium and Klonopin are starting to kick in. My shivering has stopped, and the knots in my stomach have untied themselves. I know that I'm in no shape to walk, but I still feel much better now. I decide to test the limits of my weakened state. I decide to show him just how much I've missed him.

He yelps in surprise as I turn around and shove him into the bed. He's laying on his back underneath me, staring up with a look of shock on his face as I plant my feet firmly on the floor and lower my body on top of his, moving in for another kiss. Part of me expects him to pull away, but he doesn't. He tosses the cigarettes onto the bed and wraps his arms around me, tugging me into another embrace. I use my paw to slip my boxers down to my ankles, and kick them off before going to work on the towel that's wrapped around his waist. The fabric unfolds and falls to the bed as I uncover the rest of his well-toned, sweet-smelling body. His fresh, clean scent is almost overpowering. I may have wanted him before...

But I NEED him now.

James lets out a slight moan as he feels my sheath brush up against him, my cock already starting to emerge. He breaks the kiss, and I feel him nibbling on the skin of my neck as he rubs his hands down my chest, towards my sheath. I tilt my head up, and a lustful growl escapes my lips as he strokes me furiously, working me to full size as he continues to bite and kiss his way across my chin and lower jaw line. I am fully erect in a matter of seconds. My muzzle descends, and I look into his eyes once more as he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls our bodies together.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" he whispers.

"Four years?" I reply. He shakes his head, and kisses me on the nose before answering.

"One thousand, four-hundred, and sixty-five days."

"Too fucking long," I say, as I crush my muzzle against his lips in a fierce, passionate kiss.

My paws close around his legs and slowly spread them apart. I wrap them around my waist as I position myself above him. My eyes ask his permission, and he responds by reaching down to guide me in. He moans softly as I slowly inch my way inside. I pause when I feel the base of my sheath pressing against his soft skin. I want him to enjoy this as much as I do. I want him to feel the passion that I've stored away for so long...

Hell, if we're being serious about it, I want him to scream my fucking name.

He groans loudly as I pull out partway, and plunge in as hard as I can. But it's not a sound of pain. His fingers dig into the covers on the bed for balance as I begin to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster. Harder. Deeper. I press my lips to his and drive my tongue into his mouth as I bury my claws into the mattress on either side of us. He kisses me furiously as we make love, moaning loudly into my muzzle as I continue my steady pace. I have to break our kiss start sucking in gasps of air as my heart rate speeds up. The opiate withdrawal has begun to make me sweat. My legs are burning and I feel as if they're going to give out. Still, I keep going.

James begins to slide his hips down to meet me as he notices me struggling to perform. This helps, and sends waves of pleasure through my body as he begins to tighten up around my cock. My tongue hangs loosely from my mouth as I continue to fuck him. We've tuned everything out. The only sounds we hear are our breathing and our pleasure, complimented by the soft slapping of skin and fur as our bodies meet. Nothing matters right now, except the moment we're sharing. Nothing can disturb us.

I notice that my mate's member is fully erect as well; his moans are becoming steadily louder as I push myself deeper inside of him and increase the speed of my thrusts. He's nearing orgasm. But I don't want him to finish just yet. I bury myself inside of him to the hilt and stop, lowering my muzzle to kiss him again as I take a second to catch my breath. My chest heaves as I gasp for air in between kisses; each time our lips lock together, I find myself slowly recovering. I start to move once more, my pace slower and more steady this time. I can feel the knot beginning to form at the base of my shaft as I plunge myself as deep as I can. I take caution as the knot begins to interrupt the penetration. I try to compensate by speeding up. Part of me wants to shove myself in completely, to tie with my mate after being separated from him for so long. But I know that it's gonna hurt him, so I try my best to keep my lust in check. James, however, isn't having it.

"Do it," I hear him groan between each powerful thrust. "I want us to be together."

My lingering doubts are erased. I begin to pound forcefully against him, each movement making a wet, slapping sound as my knot comes into contact with the entrance to his body. He begins to moan softly, the bedsheets pulling away from the mattress as he gathers them up into his hands. I hear myself growling, and I grit my teeth as I slam myself against him as hard as possible. I feel my muscles tense up. I'm almost there... My motions become frenzied and full of lust; the bed shakes and knocks noisily against the wall as we near our joined climax. As I feel myself getting ready to release, my legs start to tremble and I prepare to grant my mate's wish. After one final, desperate thrust, I pull out nearly all the way, and slam myself into him with as much force as my weakened body can muster.

James cries out loudly as my knot forces its way inside of him. His body shakes as he orgasms. The feeling of his insides tightening around my cock causes me to climax as well, and I lift my head and give a triumphant, almost primal howl as I flood his body with warm spunk. I feel pressure around my knot as I continue to fill him. The overwhelming amount of fluids causes my mate to orgasm once more, and he gives another yell as he sprays his load against my fur, already damp with sweat.

We're both panting heavily as we bask in the aftermath of our lovemaking. We stare into each others' eyes as our bodies recover from the release of four years' worth of bottled-up passion. I take his legs in my paws to keep us tied together as I move myself onto the bed next to him. He wraps them around my waist as we both lay on our sides, our bodies quivering and our hearts beating erratically as we try desperately to catch our breath.

He leans forward to kiss me tenderly, taking the fur on my neck in his hands and stroking it softly as his tongue brushes over my own. He moans into the kiss as my knot shifts inside of him. God, If he keeps this up, we may be stuck together for a while... Not that I'm gonna complain.

"I've missed you..." he says, scratching me under the chin as he smiles seductively.

"Not anymore," I reply. "Cause' now that I've got you, I'm never letting you go again."

I pull his chest against mine as I let out a murr, nuzzling the soft skin of his neck as he groans with satisfaction. I feel his arms looping around my back. For the longest time, we stay wrapped in a warm, loving embrace. We don't say anything; we just lay there.

There are no words which could describe the way that we feel right now... Even if there were, we wouldn't use them. Right now, at this moment, we don't care... We're happy enough just being together... I'm happy enough just seeing his sweet, gentle smile again...

I'm happy enough just being here with my mate...

After a futile attempt at another round of sex, I find that my weakened body just isn't up to it... This realization brings about a feeling of depression. I remember a time when I could easily have kept going until the sun began to rise... James doesn't seem to mind, however, as he pulls the blanket out from underneath us and throws it over our naked forms... I hear him give a sigh of contentment as he removes my deflated cock from his body, and snuggles up to my chest again.

I find myself watching over him as he closes his eyes, and starts to fall asleep. My breath catches in my throat as a smile begins to work its way across my muzzle. It's been so long since I've held him this close to me... It's been so long since we shared the same bed... I try my best not to disturb him as I wrap my arms around his body, and rest my chin against his soft, black hair.

Withdrawal pains or not, I can finally rest easy... From now on, I can finally fall asleep in peace and comfort, just knowing that when I wake up, my mate will be here to help me greet each day...

---

I awaken to the sound of something made of metal being shifted around in the kitchen. The smell of cooking meat fills my nostrils as I slowly raise myself out of bed. James is no longer next to me, but I can still feel the warmth left by his body under the soft blanket. I can still feel the slight depression on the mattress next to me, where he'd fallen asleep nestled securely against my heart.

I also feel the pulsing wave of nausea begin to creep over me again as the pain of withdrawal returns. My arm extends, and my paw unconsciously wraps around one of the bottles of Immodium as I struggle to pull myself to the edge of the bed. I have just enough strength left to tear off the cap and raise it to my lips as I suck down the sweet, vomit-colored liquid. The taste makes me gag. Oh well... It's better than going cold turkey...

I notice the pack of menthols and my zippo lighter resting on the nightstand as I toss the empty bottle onto the floor. I grab a cigarette and stick it between my teeth, lighting it up and breathing in deeply as I sink back onto the down-filled comforter that covers the mattress. I exhale with a loud sigh as my legs dangle over the side of the bed, the pads on my feet brushing against the carpeted floor.

"Good morning." A voice calls out from the doorway. I turn my head to see James, clad in a pair of black leather shoes, a pair of black khakis and a black, button-up shirt, standing before me as he holds two plates of steaming hot food. His black hair is slicked back with what smells like styling gel. He looks like a professional counselor; so businesslike. I don't think I've ever seen him like this.

"You're up early; It's ten o'clock. I made us some breakfast."

He makes his way over to me, and seats himself at the edge of the bed. I let my eyes run over his body as he reaches out with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.

"What're you looking at?" he asks me, smiling as he watches my eyes trace over his well-attired form.

"It's just... I've never seen you dress like that..." I reply, as I set my cigarette down in the ashtray on the nightstand, before taking the plate from his hands and raising a strip of bacon to my muzzle. He laughs and shakes his head.

"Yeah, I know... In my line of work, you've gotta maintain a professional image, or so they say... Actually, I'm supposed to be heading around town, looking for a job. I've heard of a few places that might be looking for a therapist."

I nod my head in affirmation as I munch quietly on the food. James rubs the fur on my back as he watches me eat. His own plate rests on his lap, untouched.

"No matter where you decide to work, they'll be lucky to have you," I say, in between bites. "You really look different, though... Your eyes seem brighter, somehow... Have you gone straight?"

He nods his head as he retrieves my cigarette from the ashtray and begins to puff away at it. "I've been mostly sober for about three years now," he tells me. "No more pills, no more scag."

"What's MOSTLY sober?" I ask him.

He gives me a soft chuckle as he replies, "I still enjoy a drink or two every now and again. I still smoke pot. Not to mention my pack-a-day habit. Some things never change."

I nod my head once more as I lift the fork that's sitting on the plate, and go to work on the eggs. "So, where do we go from here?" I say.

"What do you mean?" he asks, an expression of confusion obscuring his usual smile.

"I mean, where do we go?" I repeat. "What's in store for US?"

He shrugs his shoulders, and scratches me behind the ears. "Honestly, Charlie, I have no idea... But no matter what happens, I never want us to be apart again..."

The silverware clinks loudly against the ceramic plate as I finish off the food. I set them down on the bed, and wrap my arms around his waist. He doesn't resist as I lean in and deliver a long kiss to his lips.

"Then we won't," I say. "We'll take it day by day, but we'll take it all in together..."

He smiles as he begins to devour his own meal. I release him, and get up to put on some clothes. No matter what happens at this point, I get the feeling that everything is going to work out. I just know that it's all gonna be uphill from here.

After breakfast, James takes the keys to the Chevelle and leaves to pass out his resume at a few of the local rehab clinics. The thought makes me smirk. The clinics in this city have no idea what they're doing. What a scam. In fact, we don't even call them "clinics" here; we call them "junkie factories." You could enter those places sober and come out helplessly addicted to whatever crap they like to dish out to ease your so-called pain... What a waste. At least James could bring some respectability to those places. With his firsthand knowledge of how to deal with addiction, at least they have a fighting chance...

I take a couple tablets of Klonopin as I leave the bedroom, and settle myself on the living room couch. What should I do today?

My tail swishes from side to side as the unfamiliar feeling of boredom begins to creep over me. Fuck... What should I DO?! It's too early to call Oz and the guys; they're probably still asleep... No point in disturbing them. My mind reels as I consider several scenarios. I could take a walk around the block. I could work on a few of the new songs I've been hung up on for the past week... I could walk over to Fender's, and see how the old weasel is holding up...

"Yeah... That's what I'll do..." I decide. It may be early, but I could use a drink, anyway...

I groan painfully as I peel myself from the couch. My leg muscles are throbbing; last night's intimate activities have begun to take their toll. I manage to get to my feet without much trouble, though, and I head to the bedroom to retrieve my smokes and my cell phone, before making sure that the apartment is secure. I switch off all the lights, and stick the bottle of klonopin into the pocket of my acid-wash jeans as I head over to the front door. The hinges creak loudly as it swings open. The sound causes me to flinch. Damn, I need to oil those things... Let's add that to the list of shit I've never found time to get done...

I lock the apartment door behind me as I make my way over to the dilapidated elevator. It's been years since I moved into this place, and the landlord still hasn't taken the time to fix the damn thing... Maybe I should give the company a call, and pay for it out of my own pocket... At the very least, it would get things done... The doors slide open as soon as I press the button, and I step quietly inside. The small cab shakes with my weight as I do an about-face, and press the button for the lobby. I find myself silently praying that today isn't the day that the cables decide to snap... What am I saying? I do that every day...

A blast of heat smacks across my muzzle as I walk out of the apartment complex, and into the sweltering summer day. The sun is burning a path through my eyeballs; I can even feel the heat in my brain. I raise a paw to shield my vision from it as I begin to make my way down the cracked, forgotten street. I distract myself by counting the smashed liquor bottles and crushed beer cans littering the sidewalk as I stick my paws into the pockets of my jeans, and start the slow trek towards Fender's pub. Everything just feels so... monotone... It all seems so bland. I guess it's the fact that I'm relatively sober that makes me notice these things, but that's something that's easily remedied. I smile as I start thinking about what I'm going to drink first... Vodka? Maybe bourbon? Fuck it, I'd even settle for a beer; whatever I could afford...

Hell, I'd even drink water if it would take away this feeling of boredom and overall emptiness... I wish I had some water right now, in fact...

Some water dosed with acid, or something...

I reach Fender's pub in a matter of minutes, and pull open the door to step inside. The place is empty, as it usually is during this early hour, and I see Fender giving me a warm smile as I approach him at the bar. I fall into one of the empty stools, and bury my head in my hands as I hear the old weasel changing out bottles on the shelf across from me.

"Having a bad day?" he calls over to me. "Still wondering when James is gonna come home?"

"Actually, James is back in town." I mutter, looking up in time to catch the shocked expression forming across his muzzle.

"What? That's great! How is he? Why isn't he here with you?"

"He's out looking for work." I reply. "And my day is actually going pretty well... It's just a little boring, now that I'm sober..."

"So you're going clean?" Fender asks me. I give a slight nod of my head as a reply.

"Ehh, relatively speaking... James has me taking this over-the-counter methadone shit to keep the withdrawals from coming on. I'm still taking a few benzos every now and again, trying to stave off the seizures. But overally, I just feel kinda... burnt out, I guess..."

"Hell, that's nothing a few drinks can't cure," Fender quips with a smile. He reaches for a bottle of mid-grade vodka on the shelf, and pulls it away before digging around behind the bar for a glass. Instead of a shot glass, the old weasel pulls out a lowball, and fills it halfway with the strong-smelling booze. I reach out a paw to catch it as he slides it across the bar to me.

"Thanks, Mr. Fender," I tell him. "I really appreciate it. What do I owe you?"

"It's on the house, Charlie..." he says. "You know your money's no good here."

I raise the glass towards him before knocking back the contents in one giant gulp. Fender picks it up as I set it back on the bar, and grabs the bottle to pour me a refill. He takes out another glass, and pours a drink for himself as well.

I've never actually sat down to have drinks with the guy, but I'm glad for his company. He grips the counter with both paws, and vaults over it to my side. I hear him give a sigh as he settles himself into the empty bar stool next to me. He takes a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of the sleeveless denim vest he's wearing, and offers one to me. I give him a nod of thanks, and remove the stick of tobacco with two claws, placing it between my teeth. He takes out one as well, and lights up his own smoke before offering the flame to me.

"So what was it like, seeing him again after all these years?" he asks.

I take a deep pull from my cigarette, before shrugging my shoulders.

"Kind of... Weird." I say. "Shocking, even. He looked like a completely different guy, all dressed up in business attire and shit... I thought about how I looked when I first saw him; shaking from head to toe and falling apart from withdrawals... I kinda felt depressed... Like, after all this time, he's managed to make something of himself, and I'm just... Me. I started to feel like I didn't deserve him anymore, you know?"

Fender shakes his head solemnly, and tosses back his drink smoothly. "You can't think like that... I know James doesn't. He loves you more than you'll ever know, man... If I know that kid, he'll stick by you come hell or high water... If anything, you two are perfect for each other... I remember the night you guys first met. Tore my place completely to fuckin' shreds... But after that, you were almost inseperable. The way I saw it, not even God himself could drive a wedge between the two of you..."

I give a soft chuckle as I remember that night. James had been pretty strung out when we first met... I remember him pouring my drinks, and trying his best to offer polite conversation as I attempted to get over the fact that I'd just robbed a pharmacy at gunpoint... Those were wild days... Wild, crazy, chaotic days... I'm actually surprised that I haven't had a day like that in a while... Not since that day when Johnny Echo attempted to have the members of my band beaten to a bloody pulp by some pretty relentless gangbangers... but that's all in the past.

Nowadays, things have actually been pretty mellow. A few gigs here and there; our new album going platinum... Everything's been quiet, and things have actually started to look up for us. It feels strange to hear myself say this, but I actually hope that everything stays this way for a while... With all the excitement I've lived through in my short life, It'd be nice to enjoy a period of relative tranquility...

"Yeah," I tell Fender. "We really were the magic couple, weren't we? Everybody wanted to hear about us; how we made it work... Then, his parents had to get in the middle of it all, and split us up. Instead of the couple of the century, we just turned out to be another rock-and-roll tragedy, I guess... Like Sid and Nancy, or Kurt and Courtney."

"Yeah, but at least you didn't stab anyone, or blow your damn brains out." Fender replies with a laugh. I chuckle slightly as I slug down my second drink, and he takes the glass from my paws to pour me another. The old bastard's trying to get me shitfaced! Oh well, it beats sitting at home all alone...

Our conversation takes a turn towards reminiscence and nostalgia as we continue to drink. Over the next few hours, Fender and I work our way through the remainder of the vodka, a bottle of cheap whiskey, and several beers. The bar remains empty; It's Monday, so most of his regulars are still at work. Fender doesn't seem to care; he hops back behind the bar, and continues to crack bottles and mix drinks as I pour out my feelings and take my trip down memory lane... I realize that he may be a stubborn old weasel, but he's actually pretty content to just stand there and listen.

After a while, I'm getting pretty tipsy, and the slight nausea and cramps of withdrawal have been overcome by the feeling of drunken happiness which has begun to build up in my body with each drink that passes my lips.

Fender and I are soon talking loudly and laughing obscenely, chugging down beers and smoking cigarettes down to the filters as we carry on with our seemingly endless conversation. I'm so distracted that I don't hear the sound of the front door shutting as someone else steps into the bar. What makes me take notice is the wide grin that forms across the old weasel's muzzle as whoever it is makes their way over to us. I'm about to spin around in my barstool, when I feel a pair of arms wrap around my chest, and smell the familiar aroma of my mate's cologne as he lays his head against my shoulder.

"I thought I might find you here," James greets me. I respond in kind with a soft murr, and tilt my head back to kiss him on the cheek as he releases his grip, and seats himself on the barstool to my left.

"I see you've started the party without me."

Fender laughs, and brings out a fresh glass to fix James a drink. "That's my fault..." he says, as he pops the cork on a bottle of top-shelf scotch and pours out a few fingers' worth. "You know me, kid. When I see Charlie, I've gotta start drinking. How've you been, by the way? I haven't seen you since the night you left, but you look like you've been doing pretty good! Charlie says you've started working as a drug counselor, or something?"

"Yeah, that's the job I was meant for, I guess..." James replies. He scoops up his glass, and clears out the contents in one go. "I've actually been looking for work in the city, but it seems like everyone around here knows me from back during my junkie days. They either don't trust me, or they think I'm gonna clean out their drug stash. Other than that, I'm doing alright..."

"Shit... That sucks." Fender shakes his head slowly as he refills the glass. "Don't be too worried though; I'm sure you'll find something."

"Yeah, all I got is hope." James agrees. He brushes a hand across my shoulder, and gives me a smile. "How're you feeling, rock star?"

I shrug my shoulders, and finish the beer that's sitting in front of me. "Not too bad, I guess... I mean, the booze has taken care of the cramps and the stomach pains. The klonopin and Immodium have both worn off."

He leans in closer, and plants a kiss firmly on my muzzle. "That's good to hear. So, what's the plan for tonight?"

"I don't know..." I tell him, "... Get blackout drunk and head home for another interesting night?"

I see that devious smile start to work its way across his face as he chuckles darkly. "I like the way you think."

Fender pours us all another round of drinks, and James and I knock our glasses together before slugging them back. "Be careful with me this time, though..." I tell him. "I was barely able to walk over here this morning..."

Fender laughs so hard he almost falls to the floor. I have to reach across the bar and grab ahold of his vest to keep him from tipping over."God, it's shit like that that makes me wish I was young again," he remarks. "It's been a while since I've had a night like that."

We all share a laugh as we drink some more, and Fender and I begin to inform James of everything that's occurred during his time away. Everything seems to be going smoothly. I'm actually beginning to enjoy myself, and I can see that my mate is having a great time, as well...

I guess fate has a weird sense of humor, though, because it's usually during these wonderful times that everything somehow immediately goes to shit. It all happened so fast. I don't know how I couldn't see something like this coming; it's happened so often by now, that I should have learned to expect it.

In the middle of our drunken reverie, the door to the bar bursts open. Our conversation ceases as we all turn our heads to see who it is.

It's Oz.

He looks like he's just jumped through a bonfire. His shirt and jeans are scorched beyond recognition, and hanging off of his skinny body in strips of singed fabric. The brown fur covering his chest and arms is spotted with innumerable bald patches, especially on his wrists and the places where his shirt and pants have been burned through with black-rimmed holes. James and I leap from our seats, and make our way over to him as he shakes violently, and struggles to find the words.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" I yell.

He raises a trembling paw to silence me, before taking in a labored breath, and coughing up a large amount of pitch-black mucus. He clears his throat, and begins to speak.

"Those bastards..." he chokes out, "Those fucking pricks! They burned down my house! Almost killed me and Cory! He had to be taken to the fucking hospital! Some of the staff barely made it out alive!"

"Who burned down your house?!" James asks him, placing a hand on the otter's shoulder to steady him as he continues to shake.

"That asshole promoter!" Oz blurts out. "They called me nonstop, all night yesterday, screaming about how much money they were gonna lose because we had to reschedule the tour! They were saying we should just ditch Charlie, but I told them to go fuck themselves! Next thing I know, some fancy cars are pulling up into my driveway, and there's fucking molotovs flying in through the windows! The fire crew's been trying to put out the flames for the past two hours!"

Oz's burst of anger drains the remaining strength from his frail body, and I throw my arms around his waist to steady him as he threatens to fall to the floor.

"Do you know who did it?" I ask him. He nods his head in reply. "I caught a couple of their license plates. Ran the numbers past my brother and his P.D. buddies. The cars belonged to some gangbangers operating out of a warehouse near the docks. Frank's getting off the clock early to help us go settle this. He sounded pretty pissed when I told him what happened; he says he'll meet us out there. Now come on, I've got Zack waiting in the van out front. There's some napalm and a couple cases of beer bottles in the back. I'm sorry guys, but I really fucked up on this one. I could use your help..."

"Napalm?!" I shout. "Where the fuck did you get napalm?"

"Fuck, Charlie, that shit's easy to make; it only took me an hour to whip up a batch. Now, seriously, we gotta GO!"

Oz breaks free of my grip, and stumbles towards the door. I throw a worried glance to my mate, and my ears perk up as I see the fire burning in those piercing green eyes. He nods towards me, and makes his way over to Fender at the bar. I watch as he hands over the keys to the Chevelle.

"Watch my car, man," he says, "We'll be back for it later on."

"Not a problem," The weasel replies, snatching up the keys and shoving them into his pocket. "I'll take good care of her. You guys go handle your business."

James gives him a quick nod, and jogs back towards us as Oz throws open the front door. We leave the bar, and spot Zack's black van idling at the curb. Oz pulls open the sliding door, and we all pile in. Zack floors the gas, and the van rockets away from the bar, leaving a long trail of skid marks as we peel out.

James leaps over the back seat to the trunk, and pops the lid off of a large bucket containing what Oz tells us is the homemade napalm. I watch, shocked, as my mate snatches up the plastic funnel on the floor, and goes to work shoveling the sticky gunk into empty beer bottles using the wooden mixing spoon that sticks out of it. I shake my head to clear away the fumes, and move into the rear to help him. I find an old, oil-stained t-shirt lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and start shredding it into strips using my extended claws.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" I ask James, as he sets the filled bottles down carefully inside of a cardboard beer case.

"I was sixteen once, baby, I know how to make cocktails," He informs me, as he continues to work.

"You don't have to do this, you know?" I inform him. "We could stop by the apartment and drop you off!"

"I want to!" he screams back. "I've been sitting behind a desk for the last four years; I need to have some fuckin' fun! Besides, you guys are like my family. If I don't take part in this, I'm gonna hate myself for the rest of my life. Don't forget to soak the strips in gas."

My mate gives me a devilish grin as he keeps filling the bottles. I shake my head in awe, and hear myself chuckle slightly as I reach for the small gas can near the van's back door. Oz is busy shouting into his cell phone as we prepare our makeshift firebombs. He's probably talking to his brother; relaying his plans. I can feel myself start to sweat with anxiety as the adrenaline begins to course through my veins.

This isn't gonna be a fight. This is war. The guys we're going after won't be throwing punches; they'll be firing bullets.

I try my best to calm my nerves as I unscrew the cap on the gas can, and start dipping the strips of cloth into the pungent-smelling petrol.

What better way to celebrate our reunion, than with the smell of napalm filling our lungs and the screams of dying burn victims?

... It's all coming back to me, now...

---

Damn..... Sorry for the wait, guys; that took me forever. Well, the good news is, Chapter twelve is finished. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I hope it gives you something to look forward to as I start work on the next installment. I'll make sure to have this one up as soon as I can. Be patient with me; I'm slowly getting there. As always, any and all comments and criticism is appreciated. You all know I love to hear what you guys think. I look forward to reading what you all have to say; remember, it's YOU who keep me going; keep me writing. I'll be sure to keep everyone updated.

--Ken.