Steps

Chase scanned the streets and alleyways as carefully as he could while cruising forward and causing as little disruption to the traffic as he could. Everytime he moved slightly farther down the road he would pull over to examine the surrounding area, hoping against hope he would find Justine somewhere, or at least someone who had seen her. As he passed restaurants he would go inside, asking about her and hoping someone had seen something.

However, after two hours on the street he was left empty-handed. For the dozenth time, he considered actually filing a missing person's report, but didn't know how well that would work out. Legally speaking, he had no responsibility or control over Justine and even if they did find her, they would likely force her to go to a hospital, which he knew she would still be against.

Still, after two hours his resolve was waning heavily. Sure, Justine didn't want to go to the hospital and in her state he could appreciate that to an extent. However, the problem was that she was so far gone that she might not be able to clearly assess what was in her best interest. After all, if she had a broken leg, he'd insist she stayed off of it, regardless of how much she tried to walk.

Chase battled with the idea over and over again, trying desperately to know what the right thing was. Was his inaction born out of a growing trust with Justine, or was it because he was too much of a coward to upset her? After all, if he made her mad she might disappear forever, and he didn't want that to happen. Still, what if having her brought to a hospital was the right thing to do? Wasn't that normally what people did in situations like this?

Despite his misgivings, he found he just couldn't bring himself to involve the police. However… as the evening began to turn into true night, his anxiety rose. He'd still had no luck finding anyone who had seen Justine. Her house was dark inside and as best he could tell, Justine hadn't been in her own home since she'd come to see him. Mrs. Hoffman had agreed to keep an eye out for if she returned to his apartment, but Chase didn't really expect that to happen.

Justine had started to open up, a little. However, she was still an incredibly closed-off woman and usually thought about something twenty times more than she ever spoke of it. As such, he doubted he'd see her again. It seemed like a curse between them, or even a fact of nature. No matter how much better things got between them, she would end up running away to try and protect herself.

He sighed and continued his search. Chase checked down lesser known streets, often exiting the car and searching on foot, but to no avail. Midnight soon became one, then three, than six in the morning. As the sun crested over the nearby hills, Chase was forced to admit defeat, and had his phone navigate him to the police station. He knew it would upset her, but he couldn't leave Justine alone with this. He had to do what the right thing, even if it made her hate him.

The next couple hours went by as if they were on fast-forward. Chase finished filing his missing persons report and then there was really nothing more he could do about the whole situation. They told him to go home and that he would be called if they managed to find her. Chase was so tired he could hardly stay upright, and didn't argue.

He managed the drive home and moved sluggishly up the stairs to his apartment. As Chase opened the doors, the emptiness and crushing loneliness of the place pressed upon him like a trash compactor. It was so lifeless here now. A place that had always been quiet and safe was now dark and lonely. It was like he had lost a piece of himself with Justine, and now was a stranger in his own home.

As he looked around his apartment, all of Chase's exhaustion and guilt caught up with him, and there was nothing he was able to do but collapse on the bed and curl up under his covers. For what seemed all too long, he lay there, curled up. He was not asleep, nor was he able to think of much cognitively. Instead, he lay there and wept silently.

There was no reason or desire he could acknowledge, and instead could on softly whisper to his empty apartment, "I'm sorry."

Whether he ever actually did drift off into sleep, Chase had no clue. He could've lain, unmoving upon his bed for half the day, or he might've passed out after half an hour. However, he was suddenly called into action by his cell phone ringing on his bedside table. Chase reached up and snatched the phone up, seeing and unknown number scroll across the screen. He answered the call and lifted it to his ear.

"Chase Martin," he said, hoping for perhaps the first time in his life that the phone call wasn't a client.

"Mister Martin," came the voice on the other line. "This is Doctor Harry Green, calling from Saint Luke's Hospital on behalf of a Miss Justine Harper. I was given your number in relation to her care."

Chase sprung up properly and pressed the phone closer to his ear while he was already sliding his shoes back on.

"Yes!" he said, eagerly putting on his hoodie only to realize he'd put it on inside-out. "How is she?"

"She's stable and in recovery now, sir. Would it be possible for you to come down to discuss arrangements for further treatment today?"

Chase quickly thought through the nearby roads and how the traffic would be.

"I can be there in about fifteen minutes," he said, already snatching up his keys.

"Alright Mister Martin. Justine will be in room 249. The receptionist should be able to point you in the right direction."

Chase slid out of his door and took the stairs down to his car three at a time, stumbling as he hit the concrete. He had to take great care not to drive recklessly as he hit the mild amount of traffic on the main street. With every red light, he felt himself grow more and more inpatient. The drive totaled thirteen minutes and yet seemed to take at least twice that long.

However, Chase pushed that out of his mind and managed to find a parking space that was only a mild hike away from the main doors. He jogged the distance and took the elevator to the second floor, quickly asking the receptionist about the room number to get pointed in the right direction.

Once Chase located the right room, he walked in, and felt his heart stop for a moment. However, he couldn't have said if it was from pleasure or despair. Justine was very frail, and had several wires and sensors attaching her body to machines. Chase walked up and took her hand in his own, revealing in the feeling of her blood rushing through it. However, Justine did not stir and Chase made no effort to wake her.

After a moment, someone Chase assumed was Doctor Green entered the room, and nodded curtly to him.

"I take it you're Mister Martin?"

"Chase, please."

"Chase I'm Doctor Green, we spoke earlier."

"Right. Is Justine going to be alright?"

"Well she's recovering currently, but she was found in a rough way. The police said she was found down by the river. She apparently wasn't fully cognitive and barely registered what was happening. She's been asleep ever since we got her fever down and put her on an IV."

Chase let out a long breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in.

"So she was drugged up?" he asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

"Not in the typical sense," said Doctor Green.

That took Chase aback a little bit. He'd been sure Justine would've been drugged up the gills when she was found.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she technically has taken drugs since you'd filed the report. While there are still trace amounts of heroin in her system, she doesn't appear to have used any street drugs during that time. However, she apparently purchased some methadone, and had taken some before she was located. You would've been notified of course, but she wasn't in any sort of condition to give consent. Once she was treated here, she managed to give permission for us to call you."

Chase felt a moment of relief that she had at least allowed him to be called, so she couldn't be too furious with him.

"What is methadone?" Chase asked, not sure if he'd ever even heard of the drug before.

"Methadone is a drug used to help control long-term pains. It is often used for people who are recovering from additions to opiates. It helps alleviate their withdrawal symptoms and manage their pains."

"So she used it to help with the detox?" Chase asked, more surprised than angry.

"Correct. It's risky using methadone outside of a controlled medical environment, merely because many addicts end up become addicted to the methadone itself and can have withdrawal effects if they become too dependent on it. However, as a short-term treatment it is fairly effective. That being said I have to encourage her to finish her detox process in a clinic, where she can be monitored and helped through everything."

"I'll.. talk to her. She's pretty stubborn though, so I don't know how much good it will do."

Doctor Green looked Chase in the eye and sighed.

"Justine seems like she's making a real effort to change things, Chase. She's going to need you for support in the coming weeks. I don't know exactly what your relationship to her is, but if you care for her well-being, you're going to have to help her even if she doesn't always want it. I'll give you two some time.

Chase turned and saw Justine's eyes were slightly open, and he could tell that she'd been following the conversation well enough.

"H-hey," he said softly as Doctor Green exited the room. "How you feeling?"

"Lousy," she whispered so softly he could barely hear her. "But that's a lot better than I did feel. You called the cops?"

It wasn't really a question, but he nodded anyway.

"I'm sorry."

"I get it," she whispered again. "But I don't like it. If I were in any state to do it, I'd rip you a new one for this. You should've left it alone Chase."

"You know I couldn't do that."

"Yeah… I know," she said, still slightly reproachfully. "Doesn't mean I agree."

He nodded.

"You mad at me?" he asked softly.

"Only a little," she said. "I know you were just trying to help and I asked a lot of you all at once. Still, I do need to ask you to trust me sometimes, Chase."

Chase nodded.

"Just realize that goes both ways," he said. "I need you to trust me too, even when you don't like what I think."

She examined him for a long moment before she turned her head to the side.

"I can try that," she said, just loud enough for him to hear her. "So you think I need to go to a treatment center?"

"What do you think?" he asked, indicating the room around them.

"That I had everything under control… mostly. And that… maybe you have a point all the same… Still, I don't have the cash for something like that."

"I could help you with that. Plus I looked into some things while you were at my place. There's outpatient treatment options which are cheaper and less invasive. You could stay at my place and I could help make sure everything goes right… if you still want my help I mean."

"I do, Chase," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.