Siblings with Benefits Ch. 38

"No," I shook my head. "I don't have to..."I stopped as a feeling of dread came over me. Not wanting to put my hand down there, I dropped it along my side and, lifting off of the seat, slid it underneath of me. The seat was wet.

"No," I groaned

"Meg?"

"No, no no!" I sobbed on the last 'no' and began crying hysterically.

Mark swerved the car into the breakdown lane and, throwing it into park, turned in his seat to face me."What's the matter?"

I shook my head as I continued to cry. I had pissed myself like a child in front of my brother. Even worse than the humiliation was the fact that I couldn't control myself. Oh, why hadn't I just done it last night? I'd be painting by the lake in my forest instead of wetting my pants in my brother's car.

"Megan!" Mark grabbed my shoulder. "What is..."

"I went!" I sobbed out.

"Went where?" Mark asked. "What are you talking about?"

"T...to the bath..." I couldn't stop crying and just looked at him helplessly.

"You went to..." Mark paused, then he swallowed and said softly, "Oh."

"I'm sorry!" I cried out. "I'm I..."

My sobs turned into a coughing fit, and I pulled away from Mark, doubling over against the pain in my chest. The coughing began to subside, but as I gasped for breath and whimpered in pain, I felt my stomach clench. I moaned, and, fumbling for the door handle, I managed to open it. Leaning over, I threw up onto the side of the road. I started to retch again and, hearing footsteps, looked up to see Mark getting down on his knees next to the door.

"Easy, sis," Grabbing my arms, he started helping me back into the car.

My stomach twisted again, and before I could turn away, I gagged and threw up. Mark flinched back away from me as the nasty, brown bile splattered across his jacket. Releasing a sound that was half sob, half gasp, and with a burst of strength fueled by desperation, I lunged forward, catching Mark by surprise and pushing him over onto his back. I almost fell getting out of the car, but somehow keeping my balance, managed to take a dozen or so steps before Mark caught my arm from behind.

I fell to my knees, curled up onto the ground, and begged,"Please leave me alone Mark! I...just want to..."

I stopped as, kneeling down next to me, Mark got his arm under me and pulled me into a sitting position, facing him."I am not letting you go sis. I did not go into that hellhole to leave you by the side of the road! You are going home and you will be better."

"I'd be better off dead," I told him as I stared at the puke on his jacket. "I'm sick and disgusting and..."

"Will be better sooner than you think," Mark sighed. "Meg, you did a good thing for Tony and his sister, you gave me your hand in that bathroom and," reaching out he tapped the locket, "you spent the better part of an hour holding onto that thing for dear life. You want to live, I know you do. All this will pass, sis, it will."

"No, Mark, I...I'm sitting in my own..."

"So was I," he said, pointing at himself. "Remember? Back in the institution after Max, I went away the first few days I was there. The nurses were changing me. You didn't quit on me, sis, and I will not quit on you, ever. I need you, Megan."

"You l...look like you're doing okay," I said.

"Because I would never find you if I stopped taking care of myself." Mark put his hands on my shoulders. "Come on, Meg, remember what we always said, that we're two halves of one broken whole. Alone we're incomplete, but when we're together," he smiled at me, "we're always okay."

Mark sat back and, opening his arms, continued. "Every time I've tried to hold you, you've backed away. That's why you're still going back and forth with this. Tell you what Megan, you come over here and let me hold you, just let yourself go, and you'll feel it, sis, you'll know you'll be okay."

I looked at him longingly. His arms looked so inviting and I recalled my dream again. How happy the two of us were whenever we were together. But I was as beautiful as he was back then. Now... As I continued to waver, Mark put his hands up and smirked at me. "What? I'm not good enough for you? I mean, I know you have high standards and all, but I am your brother."

"You..." to my surprise, I found myself starting to grin, "have puke on you."

"And you smell bad, I think we're even," Mark said with a wink. "But at least I can do this."Mark quickly removed his jacket. "You on the other hand..."

"That's not nice..." I swallowed, and, feeling myself start to choke up, finished, "little brother."

The smile left Mark's face and, leaning forward, he took me into his arms, crushing me to his chest. "Oh, how I missed hearing that!" he said in my ear. "I missed you so much, sis, I...I didn't even tell you that! I just..."

Mark stopped as I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him as hard as my weak arms would allow. Burying my head in his shoulder, I started crying again, but the tears felt different this time. I let myself go limp, completely folding myself into my brother's embrace. I felt as if I were surrendering. Not to life, as I had wanted to earlier, but to my brother, who had been right; for the first time in months, I felt as if things might be okay again.

"I missed you, too, Mark," I said softly. "A...and Mom too." I paused to catch my breath and added, "I...I want to see my mom."

"Now that's what I want to hear!" Mark said, his voice flooded with relief.

"B...but not like this I..." I trailed off as I felt my eyes beginning to close,

"I'll take care of it, sis. I'll take care of everything. Okay?"

"I...I'm so tired, Mark," I murmured into his neck. "So tired."

Mark didn't say anything, but I felt myself lifted off the ground could feel us moving.

"Then go to sleep sis."

I forced my eyes open as Mark put me back into the seat, After he got in, put his arm out to me. I slid across the seat and let him wrap his arm around me. I let my eyes win their battle and closed them, and I nestled my head into his shoulder. As I drifted off, I heard Mark whisper, "Sweet dreams, my sister."

*****

I opened my eyes and found myself in my brother's bed. I had been there for the majority of the past three days. I lay on my back and frowned at my reflection in the mirror above me. Admittedly, I was not quite as horrid as I was when Mark found me. Just the fact that I was clean accounted for much of that.

As I used to those last days in New York, I forced myself to look for a minute. My face was still terribly gaunt, although there seemed to be just a hint of color creeping back in, and my hair, although far from being as thick and lustrous as it should be, didn't look greasy anymore. I couldn't quite make out my lips in the mirrored ceiling, but had noticed in the bathroom mirror yesterday that the cold sores were beginning to go away, and my lips weren't quite as dry.

I had enough of the wasted hag looking down at me, so I rolled over onto my side. Just before I did, however, I noted the red sheets and black comforter that I was covered in as I lay in Mark's huge, four-poster bed. A far cry from the puke-stained mattress in Tony's apartment. I frowned at that thought. Mark normally favored silk or satin sheets on the bed, but I had thrown up on them, so he had brought out the plain cotton ones.

My frown deepened as I thought of the mirror itself and how, before I ran from my brother, I had smashed every one of them.

Speaking of my brother, Mark was where he always was whenever I woke up, sitting in the small recliner that he had dragged into the room and placed next to the bed. This time he was sleeping, though, instead of staring at his sick sister. I thought about waking him up and asking him to lie down in the bed next to me, as he had done last night. Granted, I didn't let him hold me. I still felt terrible about my appearance. But I fell asleep, and woke up this morning with my hand in his. I decided to let him sleep, as, God only knows, he needed the rest. I couldn't help but smile at his peaceful features.

My eyes wandered over to the small table next to the bed. In front of the ornate candelabra were several pill bottles and a small black case. Most of the medications were antibiotics, but a couple were for heroin withdrawal and its side effects. I noticed the patient's name on the bottle was 'Jason Stiles,' the same fake identity that Mark used for the Risperdal that kept his condition in check.

I worried about what could happen if Mark's name was ever connected with the fake one and someone found out about the heroin medication. My eyes shifted to the black case. Inside of it was a hypodermic needle and vials of suboxone. How the hell Mark had swung that one, I had no idea, but I was glad; when I was at the shelter, a lot of recovering junkies swore by it. Still, I was appalled that my brother, who was making quite a name for himself in the legal world, would take a chance like this.

This was the clearest my head had been in days, and, to my surprise, I didn't feel that tired. I tried to recall the last several days that I had spent at Mark's place. The time here had been a blur and was spent mostly sleeping. I couldn't remember much. The most I could come up with were images from the few lucid moments I'd had since Mark had brought me here. It was unnerving as I could remember Mark's getting me out of Hell's Kitchen in detail, but hardly anything from the ride home until now. I mentioned it to Mark yesterday while we were sitting at the table and he was making me eat a bowl of chicken broth. He told me not to worry, that the doctor had said that once I felt safe, my mind and body would shut down as much as possible to rest.

Still trying stubbornly to remember, I closed my eyes and tried to take it from our ride home. I remembered Mark waking me up and making me go into a store with him where he bought me clothes and stood outside the stall in the men's room while I changed. The next thing that came to me was arriving at Mark's condo and the slow, humiliating elevator ride and walk down to his apartment. It had been a Friday night, so there were quite a few people out, and any time I dared raise my head, I saw the disgusted looks of the predominantly well-off people who lived in the building. At one point I looked at Mark, who had his arm around me. He was holding his head up high, meeting the gaze of anyone who looked at us, daring them to say anything.

I did vividly recall Mark's taking me into his bathroom. He had filled the tub and told me to undress. I had no desire to take my clothes off, and tears of shame welled up in my eyes again. He promised to turn his back and let me get into the tub. Finally, after a lot of futile begging, I did as he said. I all but moaned at how good the hot water felt. I sat in the tub and drew my knees up to my chest. Stripping his shirt off, Mark sat on the floor next to the tub and proceeded to wash me with a soft sponge. I sat there with my head down, whimpering the entire time.

After washing my back, Mark put his hands under the water to wash my ugly, thin legs. I reached under the water and grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him as he worked the cloth up between my legs. He easily removed my hand with his other, and, while tears burned my eyes, proceeded to gently wash me. After that, I gave up and let him move my arms so he could wash my deflated tits, and then, sliding his hand behind me, my ass.

The entire time he did this, Mark remained silent, his face showing no emotion whatsoever. When he was done with my body, he eased me down in the tub to dunk my head. He then spent quite awhile lathering my hair. I used to love it when my brother washed my hair, and my body for that matter. That, however, was back when my body was as beautiful as his, and my brother's eyes would be alight with desire any time he saw his sister naked.

The hot water had helped clear my nose a bit and, as Mark rinsed my hair, I caught the scent of strawberries. I whispered that it smelled nice.

"It's my favorite scent," he said. "It , always makes me think of you."

Mark rinsed my hair, then stood up and held a large towel open for me. Turning his head, he told me to stand up. I obeyed, and then groaned as I made the mistake of looking down into the tub. The water was not only grey with dirt, but I could see small pieces of skin floating, as well. Mark had scrubbed the scabs from the sores that covered my arms and legs.

I braced my hand on his shoulder for balance and stepped out of the tub. Once I had put my back to him, Mark wrapped the towel around me and gently patted me dry. When he was finished, he left the towel wrapped around me, picked me up like the child I felt like, and carried me into his bedroom. Sitting me on the bed, he passed me one of his t-shirts and again turned away as I dropped the towel and quickly slipped the shirt over me. Pulling the covers down, he helped me into the bed and tucked me in with a kiss on the cheek. "Get some sleep," he said.

The next time I awoke, the lights were out, but the room was aglow from the candelabras. Mark was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed and his hands resting, palm up, on his thighs. I could smell incense, and he was chanting softly in Latin.

Unware that I was watching him, he finished his prayer, then lit a cigarette and picked up his cell phone. A moment later, he spoke softly."Alex, listen I need help." He paused. "I...look I need a doctor that will come to my place." He took a drag on the cigarette as he listened, then responded. "No. I'm fine it's..." he sighed."Look Alex it's Meg, I found her, she was in Hell's Kitchen and.... look she's in pretty rough shape and I don't want to take her to a hospital if I don't have to." Another pause. "She's my sister Alex and I'm going to do whatever I need to. Now, do you have a name, or not?" He listened, then nodded "Okay, yeah, tomorrow's fine. I appreciate the offer, but I'll pay him, I just need to know he'll keep his mouth shut."

The doctor came the next day. I sat silently, propped up in my brother's bed as the doctor, a tall, older man with silver hair, examined me. I let him take my vitals and look into my ears and eyes, but began to fight when he wanted to look at the rest of me. Mark sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. He held my hand and convinced me to pull the covers down. I closed my eyes against the tears of humiliation as the doctor gently lifted my shirt and ran his hands along my wasted legs and body. He asked me a few questions about how I was feeling, and then asked what I had been using and the last time I had done anything.

I answered quietly. My embarrassment began to subside; after all, telling a doctor about my drug habits paled in comparison to the degrading things I had done to get those drugs. I did, however, panic when the doctor wanted to take a culture to see if I had any STD's. I struggled against Mark, but my exhausted body didn't allow me to struggle for long. I cried softly as the doctor did what he had to.

When he was finished, the doctor gave me a reassuring smile and said that things would be better for me sooner than I thought. The he asked Mark to step outside with him. My brother hedged. He had not let me leave his sight since we came back.

"It's okay," I told him. "I'm tired." I closed my eyes and feigned drifting off so that Mark would leave.

"Megan..."

I didn't answer. I lay still and breathed slowly and steadily so that he would think I was really asleep.

"Megan?" Mark turned to the doctor. "She goes out like this all the time. Should I be worried?"

Mark said my name and choosing not to answer just lied there breathing slowly and steadily wondering if he would think I was really asleep. Mark repeated my name, then told the doctor that I went out like this all the time and should he be worried.

"Well, her body's completely drained,." the doctor answered. "Honestly,even without drugs, she wouldn't have survived a lot longer without any help."

There was a pause and then my brother asked, "So, how bad is she? I mean, can I keep her here for a few days, or should I bring her to a hospital?"

"Well, she'd be better off in a hospital, obviously. But most of her problem is malnourishment, exhaustion, and well," he paused. "There are some hygiene issues, as well. You don't take care of your body; it doesn't take care of you."

"So I should check her in?"

"Something tells me if you wanted her in a hospital, I wouldn't be here." He sighed. "Look, I think you should, but on the other hand, she can get plenty of rest here and I could come back once a day and give her some fluids in an IV. If you can get her to eat within a couple of days, I think she'll be okay as far as getting her strength back. I can give her antibiotics for a couple of the infections she has going on so..."

"So I can take care of her for awhile?"

"Look Mark, there is more here than that and you know it. She's hooked on heroine, and right now she is so weak that her body isn't even really aware it is craving it, but it will be soon. That's the problem. You want to keep her here for a bit, fine, but she's going to need professional help."

"I know I..." Mark sighed. "Look, she's been gone for months. I want to spend some time with her, try to get her looking human enough to see her parents, then get her into The Johnson Clinic."

"Johnson's got a waiting list that's months long."

"I already have a bed for her there," Mark replied. "I just need her to want to take it."

"Damn," the doctor said. "Alex's name opens a lot of..."

"He had nothing to do with that. I can open plenty of doors myself. Now what about withdrawal?"

"Well, she'll have the sweats, the shakes, panic attacks, and a lot of abdominal pain, never mind the craving itself."

"Can't you give me anything?"

"Well, I..." The doctor paused. "Do you know how to give an injection?"

"No, but you can show me."

"Well, there's something I can give you, but it's expensive, and if I get caught giving it without a script, I could lose my..."

"If you were that worried about your license, you wouldn't bring it up," Mark answered. "As for the rest, my sister's life doesn't have a price tag, so just do what you need to."

At some point, Mark brought in a small TV. He set it on the bureau and left it on, leaving the remote with me. When I was awake, I would listlessly surf the channels. Behind the drone of the TV was the constant sound of my brother's voice. He was working from home and having what seemed like endless conversations about contracts and loopholes. His voice became soothing background noise, and, for the most part, I didn't even try to make out what he was saying.

That is, until I heard him say, "Hey, Mom, is Doug home? Yeah, I know I haven't come around, I've just been busy. I'll make it by soon." Mark paused. "Okay, deal, breakfast at T's next Saturday, now is he around?"

There was silence for a couple of minutes, during which I felt my eyes tear up. Mom! As I thought of her, I opened my eyes to see Mark was sitting in the chair, but facing the other way. I slid my hands under the covers until they were clutching the locket and listened to my brother talking to my father.

"Doug? Okay, listen, because I have to make this quick. I found Megan." He stopped as he listened to my father. "No, I mean I have her, I'm with her now."

There was silence for a minute before Mark continued.

"She was in New York, but listen, Doug, here's the thing. She's in bad shape, I mean, she'll be okay, but I'm going to stay up here in New York with her for a few days, then bring her down."

Another pause.

"No, Doug, you're not coming up here. Trust me, you don't want to see her like this, and Mom sure as hell doesn't need to."

More silence, and the next time Mark spoke, his voice had an edge to it.