(2018-11-05) Welcome to Detox
Day one of sobriety for Vic is not pretty. Especially when Willow and Calvin are there.
Players:
calvin..vic..willow..

Willow is ready to help Vic get the better of the Demon Drink. When her boss woke, she was sitting there next to the bed, a cold cup of coffee in her hands - she had been sitting there for a while. Since there is danger of pukage, she still has on the overalls she was repainting the office in. "Good morning!" she grins, smiling broadly. "Welcome to the rest of your life! Which is going to be like soooo cool. How about we start off with a joke? What do they call a Russian napkin? A soviette. Get it? It'll be funnier when you wake up more."

*

One eye opens blearily through a crust of sleep as Vic slowly focuses on the figure sitting next to her bed. In her dreams it was someone ruggedly handsome. In reality, its her overzealous assistant staring at her creepily. She flails in place, tangling herself in the sheets, and ends up falling out of bed onto the floor in a sheet covered heap. At the cheerful words from Willow she spits out, through a mouth surely full of cotton, "Fuck offffff." She's in warm flannel PJs which have little owls on them.

*

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Willow looks around for somewhere to put the mug…nothing. "Umm…hang on." She puts it on the tangle of sheets so she can help her boss up. The mug toppling over and spilling its contents onto the bed. "Let me help you up. I als brought you some food from Katherine's. I went to talk to her about the case but she had people over and wasn't able to talk to me about it, but I did get some food for you." Noticing the coffee staining the bed, she does her best to avert Vic's gaze from it. "Breakfast?"

*

Calvin pulled up in his late model 4x4 pickup and after sitting there for a moment, listening to music that is probably meant to be calming, he calls Vic. No, he hangs up before the first ring and calls Willow. It's not much of an actual conversation. More of a gruff order to be let into Vic's place because he knows she is there and he needs to speak to her immediately. Why immediately? Because he not in a rage and let's take advantage of that, shall we?

He comes bundled up in a parka and boots and a hat. One of those perfect western style hats that screams Colorado. He has coffee…for himself and has a leather messenger bag slung across his body. His expression? Displeased. Deeply displeased.

*

"Do I look ok?" Vic mutters from under the pile of sheets. As Willow moves to help her up and brings up food, and breakfast, her face goes a bit green, but for the moment, she's not puking. She shakes her head in the negative, immediately regretting it as her brain, no longer soaked in alcohol, feels like it's sloshing around in her skull painfully. She shades her face with her hand to block out any smidgeon of light, because that is like javelins being poked into her eyesockets. She works on disentangling herself from the sheets as she works her way towards the bathroom. "Go away." Poor Willow. Detox should come with a warning.

*

"You look beautiful" Willow grins; have to keep the spirits up! As Vic wanders off to the bathroom she calls out, "I'll organise breakfast. Oh, I also took the locks off the bedroom door in case you tried to drink in there. And I found the bottle in the cistern." She heads into the office as her phone rings. "Hello? Are you feeling sad about life, or a little mad at your wife, call us up quick, we'll send you a dick. Grey Investigations, Willow Banks speaking, how can I help? Oh…hi, Calvin. You're outside? Okay, just a sec." She opens up the door for Mister Grumpy, beaming brightly. "Come on in. She's in her apartment. In the bathroom. Might want to give her a sec." Closing the door behind him, and keeping the cold out, she picks up her copy of 'Detox for Dummies' off her desk and reads it carefully.

*

Calvin does not give Vic 'a sec'. Oh no. She gets the amount of time it takes him to peel off his parka and take off his hat and he barges right into the bathroom. Was it locked? If so, it's broken now. "Victoria, do you realize how dangerous cold turkeying alcohol can be? That's a dumb question, I'm sorry. If you did, your ass would be up in Denver sleeping off this shit like I graciously offered to pay for. /Instead/ you chose the hard way. Because quitting addictive substances isn't hard enough allllll by itself." Calvin is animated when he's angry. He moves a lot, bobbing and weaving with his words. It's like he's keeping a beat in his head.

*

There is the sound of retching coming from Vic's bathroom, then water running and the brushing of teeth. The investigator washes her face a few times, but the pale, harrowed look doesn't seem to come off with soap and water. And this is just day one. And now that day is full of banging and shouting as Calvin makes his entrance. She blinks slowly at him, then looks past him to try and find her assistant to give a royal stink eye too. She squints and rubs at a temple with one hand, watching him bob and weave and holler. "I'm aware. I've taken precautions. I have a baby sitter. I have my reasons for this Calvin. Willow, can you explain to him, my head hurts too much to talk without cursing." She tries to shove past him so she can seek the solace of her crappy couch which is piled with blankets, pillows, and a barf bucket just in case. There are bottles of water, juice, and Gatorade set on top of the coffee table. She's a smart woman, she's prepared.

*

Willow runs after the storming Calvin, her expression one of alarm and concern - for them both. "What if she's having a sh…" she tries to warn him before he bursts into the bathroom. Thankfully, Vic wasn't in the shower. "Reasons? Umm…" The teen looks up at the ceiling as she tries to tick them off. "It was too pretty. They had branded PJs. Chrome sheets. Detoxing should be about pain, not being unconscious." She stops to look at Calvin. "I didn't agree with that one. I think Vic hates herself for being like this and needs the pain to punish herself." She holds up her book. "It sort of says the same thing in here. Oh…sorry. I think those were the reasons. Vic didn't want it to be easy so she never felt like she could do it whenever she liked, and therefore would start drinking again, instead of hate the thought of it."

*

Calvin, who already looks to be at the end of his rope, groans and rolls his eyes so hard that you'd think they fall out and roll across the floor. He grabs his hair in exasperation and stalks over to the couch. He clears a little spot to sit on the coffee table, provided it's stable. If not, he'll just squat in front of Vic. Either way, he's level with her and meeting her eyes. Were they always that blue? "Let's put aside the fact that quitting booze cold can cause seizures. Let's brush that one away so I can tell you how stupid you are on an emotional level." He takes a moment to take a breath and tuck some hair behind his ear.

"Yes, sober is better. Yes, livers are nice things to have. Yes, your life will improve overall by getting and staying clean. But!" He holds up a hand, dramatically. "You are getting on an endless road of suck. You don't stop being an addict. You just stop using. It's a white knuckle ride with the best of help. Do you know how many times I have been to rehab?" He waits. Probably because he has to count to himself. "Seven. Seven times since 1999. Only four visits went public, counting the last one. Three were out of the country. One was technically outpatient while I was on the European leg of a tour but I count it. I had a coach and shit. The whole point is this: You don't have to hurt. It's gonna hurt for the rest of your life. Why not sleep off the physically ill part and go straight to the psychic pain of cravings and guilt?"

*

"Close enough," Vic comments towards Willow. She squints headachily at Calvin hovering from his perch on her coffee table. "And did you ever stop to think maybe you relapsed so many times because all the bad bits of your detoxing were muted by fancy drugs and such at these places? I need this to suck worse than losing my husband, because losing my husband was what brought me to the bottle."

*

Willow holds up a finger as if she was about to say something, but Vic pretty much covered her concern about the effectiveness of rehab if Calvin had to keep going back. Instead, she steps back and watches, wide-eyed and worried. For them both. She checks her book for what she should do in such a situation.

*

"Don't you fucking judge my journey!" Calvin booms. It's the first time he's really raised his voice. He leaps up to his feet and he is seething. "You are in no position! Look at you! Sick and full to the brim with self pity. Like you are the only person in the world to lose someone. I lost my brother. My identical twin. There is nothing closer than that! We shared a fucking zygote! He died and I dived headfirst into the needle but nothing will ever hurt me like losing him did. Does. Will. Forever." He paces away, bumping into Willow. "Sorry…" He mumbles, grabbing her instinctively. "Vic, I relapsed over and over because I didn't really want to be clean. I was rich and famous and had a full system of enablers ready at a moment's notice to clean the vomit off me before a show or Narcan me back to life in time for Jimmy Kimmel. I had no reason to be clean. No reason I considered good enough. If you want to suffer, I will ride out and bring you back a case of whatever you want. Drink yourself to death. Cirrhosis of the liver is pretty painful. If you want to upgrade your miserable alcoholic existence and live like half normal human, you have to start giving a fuck about yourself."

He falls quiet for a moment. "The reason it stuck this time, so far, is because I wanted—want to be clean and sober and live life as it is, not as drugs filtered it. And I loved myself enough to do it."

*

Vic grimaces, and sits up to look into Calvin's blue eyes. "You had things to want to be clean for, Cal. What do I have?" She sucks in a breath which proves to be a bad idea. She holds up a finger as she covers her mouth, makes a icky burping face, and rushes back to the bathroom to vomit into the toilet again. It's been scrubbed hospital clean in preparation. The shower is stocked with scent and perfume free soap and shampoo stuff as well. The woman has clearly thought about what things might make her nauseous or headachy on top of the DTs.

*

"It's okay" Willow squeaks as she is bumped into, offering Vic a smile while he is in full flow. "I said that to her. She should love herself" the teen notes, quietly, so as not to make things worse. Though Vic looks like she has a way to make things worse all by herself. As her boss dashes off to be sick, Willow is close behind, though she does take a moment to say to Calvin. "Don't go. Stay. She needs you." In the bathroom, a consoling hand on Vic's back, Willow keeps smiling through the Technicolor yawn. "You have this business. You have friends. You have a need to help people. You have me."

*

Say whatever you want about Calvin Shay, but he is a performer. He commands that little apartment like a stage. He follows Vic into the bathroom and leans in the door frame. "You have already failed. Willow?" He looks to the teen. "Find Vic a bottle, she's not ready." He addresses Vic again. "I didn't have shit to get clean for, Vic. Let me take you back. Back in time." He even makes a wide motion with his arms. "Picture it. 2016. My brother's dead. My parents are grieving. After we buried Dex, I hustled my ass back to Austin before sunup. I shot up before we left the runway. I don't recall getting home actually. I woke up on my couch. They didn't lay me down. I had choked before on my own vomit." He looks to Willow again. "You can google that hospital visit. A nurse leaked pictures to TMZ. I even remember her taking them…but I was on the vent so…anyway." He is all grumbles, grunts and sourness.

"I digress. You can tell I didn't have a reason by my behavior preceding my rehab visit." The Meltdown. Some compare his fall to Britney Spears'. At least he didn't shave his head. "What changed? Nothing. Not at first. It wasn't until about three weeks in that I—I'm going to piggyback off Willow here. Your friends. The people you've helped, myself included. Willow. We love you, Vic. Be the person we see. The person we love." He looks down. "Dex…He loved me. Your husband loved you. We can be the people they loved and—and let their legacy, their memory, their love shine through us. That's why you need to get sober. That's why I stay sober."

*

Vic finishes emptying her stomach, flushes, and again brushes her teeth and washes her face. "I've been cutting back for the last few weeks, because I had some jobs. I didn't do this super sudden, Calvin. I'm not an idiot or a child. I know the risks. I just needed to be someplace I felt comfortable to get through it. Not with a bunch of antiseptic-smelling strangers and IVs and such." She gives Willow a one-armed hug for her kind words. Calvin gets an incredulous look. "On your private plane, to your wealthy ranch, to your loving parents. You had reasons, you just didn't want to see them. I am on the third notice from the electric company to pay the bills. My apartment has less square feet than an RV in the trailer park. My father hasn't spoken to me since I quit the force." Then Calvin is tossing around the L word and she looks close to tears. "Don't say that. You don't even know me, either of you. You wouldn't like me, let alone love me, if you did."

*

Willow looks horrified as Calvin tells her to find Vic a bottle. She will do no such thing! Thankfully, she comes to understand it is a ploy. At least she hopes it is. She doesn't move as Calvin tells his tale. So sad. Everyone is so sad around here, and they have no reason to be! At least in her mind. "Okay" she mumbles automatically about Googling the hospital visit…but she probably won't do that either. Then it is Vic's turn to do a tirade, though the hug was appreciated. A frown on Willow's face as she looks from one to the other. "It's not a competition. Both of you have it way better than the starving kid in Africa who will never see her tenth birthday, but she doesn't wallow in her misery, or drink, or take drugs, she just tries to live because being alive is way better than the alternative. And don't you tell me how I am allowed to feel about you, Vic. I see the good in you. The awesomeness. You can't hide it with drink even though you try. And I will do all I can to help you. So, yeah, I love you, and no matter what you say, that won't change." A deep breath at so many words. "Now…I am going to get you both some warm milk and a freshly baked cookie. Don't worry, I scraped off the burnt bits. And we are going to be mature and responsible about this." She turns on her heels.

*

"Everyone knows you don't have to like someone to love them." Calvin counters with a smirk. He stops Willow before she leaves. "Do me a favor, darlin'? Gather up Vic bills. All of them. I'm gonna get her current." He is very explicitly keeping Vic out of this conversation, despite doing nothing to hide this act. "And don't let Vic talk you out of it, you hear me? She didn't take my offer of a rapid detox so my copious riches have to go somewhere." Now, he looks to Vic. "Willow said it all, Victoria. It's not a competition. We have had our own crosses to bear but we still wound up being addicts. It's a great equalizer. And I will repeat myself when I say, I love you. I want the best for you. I want to help you see this through. But you gotta nut up and want it, Vic. Don't waste my time." He leaves the doorway now and flops down on the end of the couch. "I ain't got nowhere to be. I'll hold your hand through this part and then Willow and I will take shifts until you are good on your own. Don't fight me on this, woman." He puts his feet up on the coffee table and retrieves his smartphone. Is he going to really play Animal Crossing right now? Yes. Yes, he is.

*

"Fine," comes the mutter. When the two go to conspire, Vic sullenly slams the bathroom door so she can shower without being lurked at. And shower she does. When she comes out she tromps into her room to change into sweatpants and a tee shirt and fluffy bunny slippers. Then she stalks back to the couch, curls up under her blankets, and sips some Gatorade. "I hate you both," she says, without any conviction in her words. She'll doze off soon, as her body tries to right this ship that has hit way too many icebergs in the last decade and a half.

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