Oil - Chapter VIII - Eight

[glassesg33k]

Chapter Summary: Rodney sleeps and John doesn't … the two parties meet again and some mistakes are made.

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Posted:Saturday May 3, 2014  Author: GlassesG33k

Chapter Rating:PG
Word Count:3,032
Cross-posted: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1347706/chapters/2811697

Special Thanks: TT, or TactlessTruth for all of her help. :-)

A/N:Well, I'm back just as I said I would be, I just want to say a big and hearty thank you to everyone for sitting through that impromptu hiatus and I hope to get this done soon. =-)

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Chapter – VIII

Eight

For the first time in his life Rodney slept soundly that night and didn't wake up once. He laid down for just a minute the soft soothing darkness taking him and rolled over to find that it was an hour before his alarm was set to go off.

*blink blink*

Rodney sat up, it was 9:30 a.m.

He hadn't twitched and jerked awake in torturous pain.

It was the first time in an eternity that he hadn't been ripped from sleep every fifteen minutes to an hour by his nerves either prickling him with sharp needles or the overall shudder. He called them “waves” and they would roll over his whole form in a frigid sear causing him to go rigid with what felt like a sharp and terrible knife like freezing or burning. It would start somewhere in his body usually his shoulder or leg and then spread, like liquid made of pins and needles, one after another each and every wave would come, sometimes one on top of another.

Not knowing what else to do or think at the moment Rodney got up and went about getting ready for work.

He was half way through when it hit him, he was whistling … in the shower no less. He blinked and chuckled ever so slightly, he hadn't been this relaxed and on the verge of happy since … heck since he was in his 20's and pre-cancerous, it was great! He washed his hair using a bit more pressure then usual then went through the trouble of actually getting down and taking care of several other items he usually ignored, one being the cracks and crevices between his toes. It was liberating to move again and the feeling of being competent was just … beyond words.

It was a new life.

By the time he was out of the shower he was more then squeaky clean for once and actually felt reborn, like an old building given a second chance.

Rodney puttered around quickly getting his things together, he hadn't felt this well in a long time. While packing up he noticed that it was sunny, something else he hadn't noticed in a while and that there were leaves on the trees now, brushing against his bedroom window. Granted he lived in a two room one bathroom apartment, more of a shit hole then anything else but it had been a long while since he'd noticed the new beginnings of spring, much less the bright happiness of a bird chirping outside his window.

“Wow,” Rodney put his hands on his hips and looked around. His place was a mess and really since he was probably fired or would be soon why not just take the day off.

Rodney thought it over and decided he really shouldn't. Hurrying he shoved the rest of his items in his briefcase and then it hit him, he'd like to eat. … Actually he was really kinda hungry, maybe a muffin would be nice. The thought of going down to the corner Starbucks flitted through his mind and he instantly dismissed it. The last time he'd eaten there he'd gotten sick, granted it was possibly because it had also been the day, or week he couldn't recall now, of his first treatment but still, just the very thought of the local Starbucks upset his stomach. He righted himself and looked over his apartment again, maybe a day off was exactly what he needed.

Rodney made a decision and set to work, flipping his phone open.

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The next day arrived bright and early and John got up wincing from the pain of it all. His masterpiece from the night before had been ruined and now he was going to have to create a second batch from scratch along with trying to figure out what in the world he was going to do with the original one.

The sky was gray and overcast (usual for predawn) and that terrible frigid loneliness howling down his neck shivering him to the bone was back. John shook, the banshee in the back of his soul howled making the still atmosphere seem open and as if he was in free-fall.

*shiver!*

Why would he be feeling like this, then it hit him;

last night.

Never before had John slipped like he had last night and made the mistake of telling a total stranger what his problem was.

That was why his past was bothering him today.

Initially after the diagnosis, when he'd been living in that little hole in the wall apartment his brother rented for him, he'd made the mistake of trying to tell a few people. His neighbors had knocked on his door several times wanting to know what the ruckus was, John had tried to tell them that he had night terrors and he was sorry. No one was impressed and mostly they just saw John as making excuses or lying. It was when they didn't understand that John tried to explain to them what the shrink had told him, but it had gone so terribly that he was taught to never mention it again and to just lie his ass off.

John was quickly re-taught how lying actually made life far better, far far better.

It still bugged him though and there was this nasty little part of him that demanded to be able to spill his guts and just wail out all of his problems to the very air itself, as if some great god was listening to him and would care enough to answer him.

John knew better now but in the past he hadn't, having to learn the hard way, through experience. Every time he'd asked for something he'd gotten the exact opposite, like the incident that finally taught him to never pray again. He'd made a terrible mistake of befriending a dog for a while when he was homeless. It'd been sick and sliding fast, then it'd gone delirious or something and had been hit by a car. It'd been old, far to old, but for a few months it had been John's only friend. He'd told that dog a lot, shared his soul with the animal and the poor thing had stuck by him, even baring it's teeth and more or less barking off several people who were trying to do John harm.

When John had finally made it over to the poor animal after it was hit … well … he'd poured out his soul knowing, just knowing God heard him.

The damn dog died that minute, with it's head in John's lap.
It was after this that he knew prayer might not be a good thing, and maybe he should stop.

So it was with shock and a sudden overtaking need that he gasped out, “God save me,” when he'd seen him come into the shop.

So far except for the caustic loneliness that was literally sapping his will to live and very strength John had had a pretty good day. One of his employees, the strawberry haired girl, had figured out that he should just take candy molds and turn his base from the night before into cheap “holiday” pops, or little trial samples. John had thought this was a great idea and went ahead with it even coming up with far better and more ideas, by the time he was creating his third base for the day he'd already figured out a whole new line of items to make with just the smooth chocolate cream alone. Never before had he thought of using it as is, presenting it as some kind of finger candy or even a “light”, weight conscious product. It was this and many more ideas that were buzzing through his mind when the damn guy from last night walked in.

John had never told some random stranger what his problem was the only people who knew about it were his brother and his wife, and she only knew bits and pieces so it was a bit more then rattling to see Mr. Uptight come walking into the store the next day. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers and had what might pass as a smirk on his face.

John hadn't expected that one.

He watched closely as the guy sauntered around, his eyes twitching side to side as if looking for someone. John slipped into the back hoping he could let one of his cashiers take care of it. He really couldn't deal with it right now.

Mr. Uptight as John had decided to call him was the kind of guy who pointed fingers, took names and kicked ass never getting to the truth or caring what was really going on. He was the kind of person who rather then admit he'd done anything wrong would say that someone else was the cause of some kind of catastrophe that had just happened. He was the kind of guy who would rather point fingers of blame then stop and try to fix a situation as it was. John had run into far to may like Mr. Uptight in his life, hell it was those kinds of people who'd court martialed him, caused him to sit in prison for far too long while his sanity seeped away.

John shook himself, he had a business to run and right now that meant getting as far away from Mr. Uptight, or should John call him Mr. Trouble as possible, right now.

“Oh hey!” terribly the guy spotted him and waved his finger making a bee line to John, “I just wanted to say I'm sorry about the ruckus I made last night and I just wanted to apologize-here!” the guy beamed up at him from his slumped position.

John looked down, “flowers?”

“Well,” Mr. Uptight looked down at the bouquet in his hands, “ah-there really for the shop. I felt guilty and was worried I had left the place a mess,” he turned looking around, “which I can't really tell ...” he turned back to John.
There was a far to awkward pause and Mr. Uptight rocked side to side on his feet, “here.” he shoved the flowers, a lush and wide mess of tropical wild flowers from the looks of it, into John's hands.

At least he liked tigerlillys, John had never seen tigerlilly's come in such a wide variety of colors, nor so bright. He bent his nose to sniff not trusting them, they seemed painted; odd.

John caught movement out of the top of his eye and righted himself to find that the guy had straightened up a bit and was smiling … almost beaming at him.

Very odd.

John bent his head unable to hold back the sheer humiliation, he could feel his face going hot and then the darn need to chuckle started to bubble up, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“God this is so not...” he chuckled out loud despite himself and smiled at the guy hoping he'd get the gist of the whole situation.

It looked gay, gay as all get out, it was embarrassing especially since he wasn't nor was he guy-unless …

“Oh ah hey!” John waved his hands blind with being flustered, then noticed that the flowers got bent and bits and pieces were falling to the floor. John turned racing to put them in water and get the floor cleaned up. “it's no problem forget about it!” he shouted over his shoulder. He needed to clean up the mess fast before someone slipped and tried to sue.

When he made it back the guy was thankfully gone and really it was good thing since there was more then enough work to be done, John's new treats were a bit hit.

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From the beautiful blush and the obvious happy chuckle to the clear embarrassment … Rodney had only gone over to try and apologize not to hit on the poor guy.

He knew how horrible he could be to deal with, more then enough nurses had clued Rodney in to this fact.

He hadn't known what to get a shop or business in order to apologize properly, he'd chosen on the easy to discard if unwanted flowers, they seemed the most safe route to go; that was until he'd had to hand them over to the shop owner, another man. … God maybe it was a good thing he'd gotten a call.

His phone buzzed again and Rodney ignored it, it stood to reason the only day he'd taken off in his entire working life that had truly and entirely been for pleasure was interrupted. Granted he'd taken days off when he'd first been getting treatment, but as time grew on and he'd gotten used to the sharp stomach then full body aches and dry heaving onto his shoes, he'd learned to ignore it.

Rodney's phone went off again but he was nearly at school so there was no need to answer it. Granted it was for a new piece of equipment and he'd asked to be contacted when it came in.

The rest of the day was spent in semi-crancky bliss, helping haul equipment in and placing it, setting everything up so that his students and the staff could make sure it was all in place and get it working properly.

He got a few looks and at one point the lowly furniture mover guy as Rodney deemed him in his mind, had glanced at him then over at his co-worker, seeming to say, “Whoah.” Rodney's arms had been in the air, trying to hold up some stuff, and he'd been shaking pretty badly.

Thankfully no one had said anything and he'd gotten away with it all but still, the stares were starting to get to him. It was as if everyone suddenly decided to take notice of his gray and drawn appearance, a few students and even one staff member offering to take something for him. He refused every time not wanting them to think him ill but it wasn't working.

By the time half the day was gone he was starting to really run out of any kind of life he'd had and everyone was talking behind his back. A few had mentioned how he'd possibly lost a bit of weight and how skinny he was, “unable to carry all that stuff”.

Unless he could come up with some kind of an excuse quick there would be wild and entirely wrong (or more then likely right) rumors flying around … really he should just prepare himself for the end now.

Rodney nodded to himself deciding, he'd figure out some way to write up a resigning letter and figure out how he could bow out with out being looked down upon.

It took all day to carry in and set everything up in the general area's it was going to go and Rodney had no idea what he was in for, if he had he would have delegated nearly all the work and just stayed home, despite the wonderful new science items.

That night Rodney didn't sleep, he was dead tired his body weeping for the wonderful escape of sleep but it was not to be. A burning ache was beginning, it wasn't until after 4:44 a.m. that he finally managed to doze off.

When the next morning rolled around the sun wasn't shining and the birds were not chirping, or at least in Rodney's world they weren't. Rodney opened his eyes at 10 a.m. his alarm ripping him from blissful escape his room was black as night and the sky outside was gray, or that's what he figured. In truth he didn't really know, he was blind with pain.

His whole being was stiff to the point of being immobile and when he finally got himself to sit up he realized that there was light coming in his window, it looked pale and gray. Pain had once again sapped any and all of his joy. It took all Rodney had to slither himself out of bed and then on hands and knees crawl to his bathroom. He lay there for a good hour or so curled up in a fetal position gasping he was so tortured, tears were streaming down his face choking him when he tried to move.

Once he was able to bear it he got himself onto his knees then stood, he grabbed the Aspirin-cream and stripped his clothes from the day before off (he'd never even had a chance to get undressed, not like it mattered anymore or ever really had ) and managed to get himself into the tub.

He turned the water on hot as he could stand and sat there waiting till his muscles weren't as tight as bow strings anymore. It took a good several minutes but he was soon able to draw the shower curtain closed and after the hot water ran out he crawled out and slathered himself down.

It as after this that he finally crawled back to bed and decided that he was not going to even attempt calling in for the day.

If anyone called him or tried to get angry about him not calling in sick then he didn't care.
Closing his eyes he gave in to the allergy he had to aspirin, another gift from god, or really his damn genes. The atmosphere went silent his ears sliding into that pressurized needing to pop feeling. Sound became fuzzed, like an old analogue T.V. set, one could say the sound was like holding a sea shell up to your ear, muffled and as if the air currents were rushing by making a growling hissing roar.

Rodney's ears began to ring blocking out the call from his one acquaintance at work, Zelinka.

It didn't matter though, Rodney was dead to the world, his allergies and pain taking him down into darkness.

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