[August Catch-All]

[ss_buttcrack]

Who: John Crichton (Harvey) & Open
What: August Catch-All
When: Thru August
Where: All over the ship
Warnings: [cw: discussions of addiction, drug use/alcoholism, depression, suicidal ideation, trying to get sober, grief, the boy's going through it. Will warn if other things come up.]


Was never much, but we've made the most

How many months has it been, now? How many nights has he slept in the brig like it's his personal cabin? Too many, probably. That ends now. He and Arthur are on speaking terms again. It isn't what he'd call a warm relationship, still, but it's enough. It's a start. So, he's moving back. Back into his cabin, that is.

Moving down to the brig had been simple enough. He took only the essentials that first day. But, over time, he accumulated more. Now, moving it all back into his cabin is proving to be a bigger job. He can be found making several trips up and down with arms full of his belongings, shuttling them back into his dusty cabin piece by piece. If anyone offers to give him a hand, he won't say no.


So, I choke on the sun [CW: Addiction/drugs, Sobriety, and all other CW's from above apply to this one]

A. Interventions:
Four weeks. That's how long Valdis told him he'd have to endure without his Lakah. Four weeks. It didn't sound that long at the time. He was too tired and fed up with himself to resist. But now... the pain is so loud. Every thought and feeling he has is turned up to eleven without the drug to dull it down. Outside of when he goes to get meals at sporadic hours of the day and night, he's made himself pretty scarce. It's easy to blend into the background while everyone else is busy licking their wounds from that excursion. He tries to tell himself this pain will pass. It has to pass. Any day now.

It doesn't.

About a week into the month of August, he finds a breaking point. He's tried everything he can think of to distract himself. Sports, exercise, swimming, gaming, gambling, reading, eating... nothing breaks the tension knotting up his shoulder blades. He hasn't slept in days. Pacing the deck gets old after doing it for hours. Before he fully realizes it, his feet have carried him to Stan The Man. He stands outside of the bar looking in like a starving man. Saliva is practically about to start dribbling from his chin.

"Dammit." His fists curl at his sides and he brings one of them up to stick between his teeth. He yells at himself under his breath, "Dammit, John, if others can do this, so can you."

But... frell. He wants a shot so bad he can taste it. Sweet oblivion is so close. All he'd have to do is cross the threshold. No one would even know to stop him. Well. Actually, that's not entirely true...

He repeats this battle several times over the course of the month. Sometimes, he's able to pull himself away. Other times, when he's at his lowest, his feet make it over that threshold after all. On those, especially, he could use a friend to help him turn back. Or, even an enemy. He'll take any help he can get.

B. Message From An Old Friend?
Midway through the month, two packages show up at the same time for him at Sundries. He ...has a feeling about them, so he waits to look inside until he gets to Sand Dollars. Now, he's sitting here at the table with two objects in front of him and he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"You still lookin' out for me, Bash?" he says to the empty cafe as he taps a finger against a very, very specific bag of coffee beans that he recognizes as the good stuff Bash used to brew for him. Next to that is a book titled Addiction & Recovery For Dummies.

"I am a dummy..." he grumbles, plonking his head down on the table. "I sure wish you were still here."

Eventually, he gets up and orders a coffee (not the good kind, he wants to save that). With brew in hand, he takes a deep breath and cracks open the book to the first page. "Okay. Let's see what you got for me."


[Closed to Ari]

[The text that arrives for Ari this day is no different than any of the other ones. But, there is a difference: this one was sent by Harvey.]

Do you have some time this evening to go over that equation we left off on?
-Cmdr. Crichton

Comments

Interventions

[yourexoduslaughing]

"Drinking problem, huh?" Flan commiserates from the man's right-hand side, a side she absolutely wasn't on seconds ago. "That's a bummer, especially in this place! Can't even rely on a bartender to help you stay cut off!"

[ss_buttcrack]

"Yeah." He replies flatly. "I'm trying to kick it but, you're right, the unlimited supply makes that tough."

He should probably be more concerned that she just showed up like this but he's not sure anything surprises him anymore.

He turns to actually look at her, finally. "Have we met before?"

[yourexoduslaughing]

"Nope! I did see you at Pride, you were looking pretty down, and I was pretty drunk! I kept making my friend play 'Time After Time'!" She shoves a hand out to shake. "I'm Flan! I've been here a couple of months now!"

[ss_buttcrack]

"Yeah. I wasn't in the mood to party much. Bad breakup." He really doesn't want to get into it deeper than that, so he hurries to add, "That was you? I had that song stuck in my head for weeks."

He's shaking his head, even while reaching to take her hand. "Commander John Crichton, or, just Crichton. I've been here a few months shy of a year I think."

[yourexoduslaughing]

"That was meeeee! It's my song! They always play it at my memorial service!" Flan excitedly shakes Crichton's hand. "Oooooo nice, a long-term resident! I'm lucky, I already had a friend here when I arrived so they got me up to speed on everything! And also apparently Pratt met a version of me, so he knew who I was when I got here, so that was totally awesome! It's so funny to me how small the population is here, but like, I still haven't met everyone! I'm starting to recognize faces though, so that's super fun!"

was never much

[not_the_last]

She's coming out of her cabin when she sees Crichton opening the door to his own, arms full of miscellaneous ... stuff.

"Oh -- good morning, Crichton." Mostly greeting; partially open curiosity.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Mornin'." Best he can do is a half-shrug since his arms are full.

"I'm, uh... moving back in," he says in answer to her curious look. "Staying in the brig isn't helping like I thought."

[not_the_last]

"Ah." She does her best to keep any questioning note out of that; she hopes it means that he and Arthur are at least on speaking terms again.

"... Could you use a hand, maybe?"

[ss_buttcrack]

He knows she must naturally be wondering about where he and Arthur stand, but it's still on such shaky ground he's afraid to even put it into words, as if that might be tempting fate.

"Yes. If you really wouldn't mind? There's nothing too heavy."

Interventions

[businessorlibation]

"You can ask me to make you a mocktail, you know. I've gotten damned good at them. Do you trust me?"

Guess who's behind the bar, this time? He gestures Crichton inside with a crooked little smile. Because if there's something Johnny Summer knows, it's that giving places the ability to be Bad For You makes the head issues worse.

[ss_buttcrack]

"More than I trust myself." He steps inside, feeling somehow like he's failed a test, but he keeps going until he's at the bar.

"I'd appreciate it if you make me nothing but mocktails from here on out. No matter what I say later."

[businessorlibation]

"I can do that. Have you talked to Klaus yet? He's also gone sober, might be able to empathize with what you're experiencing."

He makes what would be a tiki drink, but for the lack of rum--it doesn't just taste like some juices thrown together, like some kiddy punch. It's genuinely a good drink. He has been working on this.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Yes. Klaus is part of my inspiration. They've offered their support to me and I'm glad to have it." He's proud of Klaus for how far they've already come, and it gives him no excuse not to make the same effort.

Crichton takes sip of that drink and his eyebrows lift in surprise. "Damn. This is good. Did you invent the recipe yourself?"

[astrogator]

[Ari knows Crichton's having a rough time. They're all having a rough time, maybe, but Crichton more than most, and there's not a lot she can do about it. There's no way to make this situation better. They'll recover when they get out. She has to keep believing it.

So the best thing Ari can do for anyone she cares about is to help make that happen, as quickly as possible. It's why she doesn't hesitate when she sees the message, even if she's already been working on the equation most of the day.]

Of course. It's top priority. I know we have to be close!
Stop by whenever you like. I have snacks. You bring the coffee?
- Tayrey

[cw: involuntarily drugging a drink]

[ss_buttcrack]

Great. I'll see you in a little bit. Coffee on me.

[This is even better than Harvey hoped for. She's practically gift-wrapped the means of her own sedation for him. He'll stop by the infirmary to pick up the drug he needs, then he'll go to the coffee shop and make a special brew with enough flavor in it to mask the difference. It will be slow. If all goes to plan she'll grow drowsy with no suspicion it was anything more than exhaustion causing it.

He shows up at the appointed time with two coffees in hand, wearing Crichton's usual tired but determined smile. He offers the doctored cup out to her in greeting.]

Someone order a coffee?

[astrogator]

I sure did! Thanks.

[She takes the coffee. Ari's always a little cheerier around Crichton, probably because most of the time they're together, she's working on escape, and it reminds her that she still has hope. She beckons him inside. The room's as tidy as ever, with that screen at the back concealing her sleeping and storage space.]

I made a few more notes I can show you, but - did you think of anything else important?

[The unexpected meeting must be for a reason, after all. As she sits, she takes a sip of the coffee, and notices absolutely nothing unusual in the flavor. Of course, a dosage for a regular human her size probably wouldn't keep her down for long. Ari Tayrey, however, has never been shy about mentioning her Cardalek-enhanced physiology and how resilient and healthy she is as a result of it. How substances that could kill regular humans won't harm her. Yet she's also tired. She's been overworking herself for a long time now.]

[ss_buttcrack]

[He keeps his self-control enough not to look directly at the privacy screen even though he can feel those sources of power resonating behind it. He wants whatever it is. He needs it.

He carefully isn't paying too direct of attention to her drinking, either, though he can't help a small crook of a smile when she takes her first sip and suspects nothing. He did end up using triple the recommended dose. If she accidentally dies, well, she'll be back.]

I did, yeah. Here, I wrote down what I think is the missing variable. Take a look.

[He beckons her to the desk chair and lays the journal out on the desk for her to inspect. Matching Crichton's handwriting proved to be a challenge, but he's reproduced it relatively well. The sloppiness could almost be excused by being tired or excited.]

Was never much, but we've made the most

[freedomsuitsme]

It's during one of these trips down to the brig that me might notice something new: a ritual circle, made up of geometries and runes of some unknown magical tradition, inscribed on the floor with charcoal. There's a weird, gloopy gray residue on the floor, and the air somehow carries the faint odor of anxiety.

It's weird.

[ss_buttcrack]

Crichton scuffs his boot over the marks to see if they will smudge away, while muttering to himself, "The hell did this get here? What, are we summoning things now? Like we don't got enough crap to deal with?"

[freedomsuitsme]

It does indeed smudge. Good job, you've broken the circle, Crichton.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Huh," Crichton says with a shrug when nothing at all happens. "Thought a demon might pop out or something. Oh well."

He pauses like he can suddenly hear someone talking to him. (Because he can.)

"No, I am not trying to get possessed. That's what I have you for, asshole."

Intervention

[stalksthedarkness]

Kolchak was going to go have a drink or three himself. But... well, all of a sudden he felt like tonight was better spent dry. It totally has nothing to do with John's slobbering as he stares on. Or his talking to himself.

"...Ya know, I heard they have some mean glasses of coke here."

[ss_buttcrack]

"Yeah?" Crichton says, reaching out to this friendly voice like a lifeline. Anything to keep himself steady. "Just the coke?"

[stalksthedarkness]

"Yeah, or, I guess they probably got other sugary-filled drinks if you like a different, multi-billion-dollar soft drink company." A shrug, better to drink sugar than something that will get you addicted and destroy your liver. Among other things.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Can't say I'm particularly loyal to any of 'em. Still, heh." He shakes his head at his own reaction to this. "I'm still getting used to other people knowing what Coke is in the first place. No such thing out in space."