Perverts 'R' Us

Uncle Gary III

By Danyealle ( rom, nosex )

Sitting out in the waiting area, Alex thumbed through an old magazine he had picked up from the table beside his chair. Flipping rapidly through the pages, he thought that there must be some kind of law or unwritten code that doctors and therapist's offices had stacks of old, sometimes years old, magazines, but aren't allowed to put out new ones.

Even on his good days he wasn't a patient man, so to be forced to sit and wait was driving him up the wall. What he was here for had put him in a bad enough mood, being forced to sit and wait beforehand was turning up the heat under it and bringing it to a slow boil. Glancing at his watch he scowled, he still had a 10-minute wait. Grinding his teeth a bit he thought with the way things had been going lately the appointment would run long.

Tossing the unread magazine back into the pile with the others, he leaned back and rested his head against the wall, mentally sighing. Turning the whole situation over and examining it, he tried to figure out just how she was going to react to him and what he had to say. For several weeks he had been trying to get hold of her, but it appeared she had been ducking his calls. After leaving numerous voice mails, e-mails and messages left with her receptionist, she didn't return his calls, apparently not wanting to talk to him. Out of a sense of desperation, he finally set up an appointment, telling the receptionist that he was in search of someone to 'help him with a problem' - not a lie, but an omission of the details of the 'problem'. Considering the commonality of his name, Alex Jones, it was highly unlikely that she was going to put two and two together and guess it was him.

Ten years ago she and Gary tied the knot, both happy and very much in love. It wasn't until 5 years into the marriage that things started changing. The music industry and the public are fickle entities, always changing their musical tastes. Stars that had, at one time or another during their career, attained superstar status themselves pushed aside as younger acts started to take their place. While the money from a new CD and the ones in their catalogs, for many of them, was still good and ensured their comfortable existence for many years to come the blow to their ego was the worst. Many of them didn't handle it well at all. Gary was one of those.

As he grew older and his music style slowly fell out of favor, replaced with something different to cater to the younger generation, Gary slowly started changing. Gradually, he became more sullen and moody. Quick to anger, he lashed out at all those around him, seeming to not care about the pain he was inflicting on them. Pushing himself, he tried writing music that would appeal to the new generation of fans. It didn't work. His loyal fans, those that had been with him since the start of his career, felt angry and abandoned. The younger ones, those whose favor he was trying to get, didn't like it either. Music industry magazines slammed the songs, saying that it sounded as though he was trying to regain his youth and be something he wasn't. After all the years he had spent in the industry he had finally recorded a flop.

The dismal sales made things all the worse. Sinking deeper into a pit of seething, bubbling anger he began blaming everyone for the weak sales, from the record company president, to Alex and even Mickey, saying they were trying to destroy his career. But the worst had yet to come.

Spiraling out of control, Gary began drinking heavily. It was at this point that he began phoning Alex to rant on about people conspiring against him at least once a week. It was those conspirators that were responsible for his fall from grace, he insisted. They were also the ones behind the lag in sales. They were trying get him he told Alex many times but he wouldn't let them, a dark tone in his voice. Of course, this worried all of them.

The more he drank the worse things got. It was at this point that he began to blame Mickey for everything. One of those nasty, mean drunks he began to pick fights with her so that he would have an excuse to leave and not come home for a couple days. He began trolling the night scene with reckless abandon. Whenever a friend would confront him about his behavior he would blame Mickey, telling them she had shoved him away.

It was at this point that Alex began to admire the strength of the woman. Sure, after the wedding they had buried the hatchet and he began to warm to her but this was different. Never once, no matter how nasty Gary got, did she lose her cool or temper. Every time he would pick a fight with her she adopted a cool, clinical manner and did her best to diffuse the situation. But, that didn't mean she let him walk all over her and bow to his wishes, far from it. Showing just how tough she was she would stand her ground and let him know when he had gone too far and that his behavior was unacceptable. Nor would she allow him to be disrespectful, walking away from him after making it clear that if he couldn't treat her with the respect she, as his wife, deserved then he wasn't to speak to her. While she knew each time that this would throw him into an instant, white-hot rage that would precede him storming out of the house, she stuck to her guns.

Just when he thought she was on the verge of getting him to see the error of his ways he pulled a bonehead stunt that would send him spiraling down a dark path. From the beginning she had always been flexible about most things, willing to negotiate and work things out. But, like everyone else, she did have one hard fast rule, no cheating. It was the one that that was etched in stone and non-negotiable. One night, after his usual tantrum with her, he decided to get even. In his booze-soaked mind he decided to bring a woman home and let Mickey catch them in bed. His reasoning behind the stunt seemed to be that if he showed her that he could have anyone he wanted she would knock off the shit. It didn't work.

When she walked into the bedroom and saw them fucking she didn't say a word, just turned around and walked back out, shutting the door behind her. The next morning, after taking the flavor of the night home he smugly strutted back into the house, fully expecting to get an apology from her. That wasn't going to happen. It only took him ten minutes to figure out that she wasn't there but all her clothes and a few other things were gone. She had left him. Two days later she had him served with divorce papers.

Knowing he was on the verge of losing the person he loved he had tried everything, from promising to quit drinking to sobbing, tearful begging, she steadfastly refused to give him another chance. Six months later they were divorced, the decree was issued a week before what would have been their 8th anniversary. While she could have soaked him for half of everything, they didn't have a prenuptial agreement, she didn't. All she asked for what a few things from the house and alimony for one year so she could get back on her feet.

It was the divorce decree that finally drove him over the edge. Throwing himself into a lifestyle of partying and heavy drinking he tried to erase the pain. While the booze helped him forget when he was drunk all of it came back when he sobered up. It really came as no surprise to anyone when he started doing drugs. As time went on he spiraled deeper and deeper. Like most addicts, famous or not, the drugs soon had a hold of him rather than the other way around. Gradually his royalty checks weren't enough to pay for the drugs and he started selling everything off. A little over a year after he discovered coke he was no longer paying bills, using the money to feed the monkey on his back. Soon the house was gone, foreclosed on, the cars were gone as well as most of his valuables. It was then that he vanished, almost as if he had dropped off the face of the earth.

As months passed, Alex and Gary's parents were sick with worry. No one had heard anything from him. They were all beginning to fear the worst, that he had died and no one knew who he was. By sheer dumb, blind luck Alex had run into him. He had dropped into a curio shop to look for something and as he walked out he literally ran into Gary. At first he didn't recognize him but when he said hi there was no doubt about his identity.

Like most of those that chase the dragon, the drugs had taken their toll. His hair was long and scraggly and now almost completely grey. He had a long, unkempt beard and there seemed to be many more wrinkles and lines on his face than there used to be. His lips were swollen and burnt from smoking the pipe and he was so skinny it was almost to the point of emaciation. The clothes he wore were stained, dirty and had holes in them, making them resemble the no-color, filthy rags of clothing that homeless wear. The stench of drugs, B.O. and filth hung around him like some invisible shroud. It had taken a considerable amount of effort on Alex's' end to not do the Technicolor yawn right there.

Putting on his poker face, he talked him into getting something to eat. With the smell emanating from him, Alex had no appetite at all and was sure if he did eat that the smell would end up nauseating him all over again. Besides, when he offered the invite he had an ulterior motive. While he ate, Alex casually started a conversation, but subtly threw in questions that gave him the information that he needed.

When the meal was over, Alex asked him come along, saying that he could stay with him or his family until he could get back on his feet. The offer was turned down, no surprise there, but he did give Alex a phone number he could reach him at, plus his address. After a quick handshake, Gray walked away. After driving at breakneck speeds back to his office, he contacted Gary's family to tell them what he knew and arranged a meeting so that they could discuss the course of action that needed to be taken.

Over the next two months, both he and Gary's family visited him in the rat infested, filthy skid-row, long-term hotel. Each time they tried talking him into coming home, but he wouldn't. It seemed to them that each time they were there he seemed to be getting thinner and gaunter, making it look as though he was rapidly aging. While that alone was bad enough it also seemed to them that he wasn't looking well, while the drugs were responsible for a portion of it they didn't think that was the only reason. Something had to be done and quickly because they were sure that if things continued on the way they were he was going to die.

Brainstorming, they tried desperately to come up with some way to get through to him how grave they situation was and to talk him into coming home. They tried everything they could think of, but to no avail. They even went so far as to consult a lawyer to see if there was any legal action they could take to force him into rehab or to come home. While there was recourse for it, the process was a drawn out one that would take time to do. That time was something they didn't have and they knew it. Finally, his dad brought up Mickey. Not only was she a psychologist, but she was also one of the small handful of people that he might actually listen to.

The eternity of waiting finally passed. Stepping into the office and shutting the door, softly, behind him he looked at Mickey. "If you'll take a seat I'll be with you in just a second." Settling into one of the comfortable chairs that faced the desk, he waited silently; stomach churning and his heart beating a staccato tempo in his chest.

After shuffling the papers in front of her she set them aside then leaned back in her chair and looked at him, smiling. "How can I…" were out of her mouth before the realization of who he was hit her. Narrowing her eyes she glared at him. "What do YOU want?" She hissed, giving him a look that unmistakably told him she didn't want to discuss anything with him. "It should have been crystal clear when I didn't answer your messages that there is nothing you have to say that I want to hear. That hasn't changed one iota. Whatever it is you're here about the answer is no. Now, get out. I have a lot of work to do and a couple more patients to see." she growled, shooting him a look that should have turned him to dust instantly.

"I know you don't want me here, to tell the truth I don't want to be here myself, but at least hear me out. It won't take much time to explain why I came. Afterwards if you tell me to leave, I will, and won't bug you again.

Looking at him, the corners of her mouth turned down, she said nothing for a minute or so. Leaning back in her chair slightly, her fingers beat a rapid tattoo on the desk. "I'll give you 10 minutes, no more than that. Once those 10 minutes are up, I want you out of my office." She said in a soft, modulated voice, her face now a passive mask with only her fiery eyes betraying her emotions.

"It won't even take me 10 minutes." He said with a deep sigh. Reaching into his blazer the pulled out a few snapshots from the pocket in the lining and tossed them onto the desk in front of her. "That is what I want to talk about." He said in a resigned voice.

Shooting him a quizzical look she then picked up the pictures and glanced at them. A soft gasp, barely audible, escaped her as she looked at the man that she had loved with all her heart and soul. Seeing what he had become broke her heart. While they were divorced, she still did have feelings for him and would probably always love him.

Quickly on its heels came feelings of shock and dismay. She was unable to wrap her mind around the situation. His drinking problem has been one of the reasons for the divorce but it appeared that drugs were in the picture now as well. Because of her profession and training she knew an addict when she saw one. When she looked at those snapshots there was no mistaking that Gary was chasing the dragon, just like so many others in the music industry. It was also readily apparent that he was in the stage of addiction where the drugs, and getting them, dominated all his waking thoughts, not caring about anything else.

While she sat there, quiet, looking from picture to picture he said, voice soft, "I came to ask for your help. We know where he's living now. Since finding him we've tried desperately to talk him into going to rehab or coming back to live with either his parents or me but he refuses. With the shape he's in we're all worried that if he doesn't get help, and quickly, that he's going to drop dead or will end up O.D.ing on something. We've tried everything we can think of to persuade him, nothings worked. We even went so far as to seeing what we could do legally to force him to get help. Our hands are tied with all of it and there really isn't anything any one can do.

"You always were one of the few people that he would listen to. Even towards the end of your marriage he still listened to you to a certain extent, that's more than he would do with the rest of us. If anyone can help it's you. You know how to handle situations like this and just what to do or how to go about doing it. Please Mickey, talk to him. That's the only thing we're asking of you. Please?" He said, voice full of emotion, eyes locked with hers.

Tossing the pictures face down on the desk, not able to look at them anymore, she leaned back in her chair and gazed over at him, her face an almost emotionless mask. "If you think he's going to listen to me and ignore the pull of the drugs, you're going to end up disappointed. What's his drug of choice?"

Sighing deeply, he shook his head, "It's crack."

Groaning softly, she shook her head. "Of course. It has to be the drug that is one of the hardest to kick and has a high relapse rate." she said wearily, shaking her head. "Even if I'm able to talk him into getting treatment, chances are it's not going to do any good. Until Gary sincerely wants to quit, there really isn't anything any of us can do We can persuade him to check into a clinic but as long as the only reason for going to appease others it's not going to work. In all likelihood he's probably going to end up relapsing within six months and the whole cycle will start over again."

"I know." Alex replied, tone weary. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed, "I know it's a murderous addiction and has a dismal success rate, no matter what some rehab clinics tout in their ads. But, unless you can give us a better idea of what we need to do, this is our 'hail Mary' play. We don't have high hopes that it'll succeed but it's at least worth a try. If nothing else it'll buy us some time so we can come up with something else."

Shaking her head, she then locked eyes with him. "I most certainly don't need this crap in my life right now. It was bad enough when I was with him and I don't want to go through that taste of Perdition ever again. With the way things went between us and the nightmare it evolved into at the very end makes me wonder why I should even think about getting involved. Chances are the only thing that's going to come out of it if I do help is it's going to end up once again with me being drawn right back into a similar situation as before. Why should I do that? Round one of that nightmare was bad enough and the only thing he was 'on' at that time was booze. I don't even want to think about how bad it could or, more likely, will become in the future. No thank you."

"In your line of work you've probably seen this stuff hundreds of time and had addicts as patients. Why is he different than any of those?"

"I don't treat addicts when they're battling addiction. Those I send to people who specialize in addiction. Only time I deal with them is after they're sober and ready to work through things.

As for Gary being different, one of the golden rules in this profession is to never treat a friend or relative, ever. If they have problems and need counseling then you send them to someone else. Mixing therapy and relatives is an explosive combination that will, without a doubt; blow up in your face at some point. It wouldn't be ethical of me to take Gary on as a patient. Even if it was ethical or accepted I still wouldn't. I know him far too well for any kind therapy I might use to be effective."

"Just talk to him. No therapy, no counseling, nothing like that, just talk to him. We've found a rehab clinic that'll take him. We just need to get him there."

"You do realize that things might actually get worse if he sees me, don't you? All that may do is unleash some ugly emotions and hurt that may plunge him into a depression that may send him on a binge."

"We thought of that, yeah. But it is worth the risk, don't you think? As it stands it's a desperate situation that's become worse with each passing day."

Unconsciously she drummed her fingertips on the desk as she turned over the situation in her head. After a few minutes she looked back at him, "Leave me your number and I'll give you a call tomorrow and tell you my decision. I want a night to think things over."

While this wasn't the answer he wanted, it was at least a glimmer of hope. From the beginning he was sure she would flat out say no. Pulling out his wallet, he extracted one of his business cards then wrote his home and cell phone numbers on it. After handing it to her he walked to the door. Before opening it, he glanced back at her, "Please Mickey, for his sake." Then he walked out, quietly closing the door behind him leaving her alone to ponder the situation and her possible role in it.

Lying on the lumpy, narrow bed Gary watched the flickering TV, mesmerized by the images flashing on the screen. The effects of the last rock he had smoked were still lingering. Shutting his eyes, that floating buzz swirled around him making it seem like all was right in the world and that nothing else mattered. Soon enough though he knew the high would be gone and he would need some more.

As the buzz was wearing off and the first vague thoughts that he needed to go out and buy more were starting to nudge him there was a knock on the door. Assuming it was one of his smoking buddies, he told them to come on in. When he heard the door shut softly behind the person he opened his eyes to see who it was. Standing there, looking as if she was one of his drug-induced dreams, was Mickey.

Struggling up into a sitting position, he rubbed his eyes and looked again; trying to make sure she was real and not a figment of his imagination caused by the drugs. "Mickey…" he said softly.

"Hello Gary. Long time no see." she said softly, an almost cold timber to her voice.

Before he could think of what to say she stepped closer to the bed and looked at him, eyes unreadable. "You look like shit." In all truthfulness, that was a big understatement. The pictures Alex had shown her didn't come close to showing just what kind of shape he was truly in. It had crossed her mind that Alex had been exaggerating his condition and just how bad of shape he was in to get her to intervene. Now, as she stood looking at the man she still loved, she understood why they thought that he didn't have much time left if something wasn't done. Sitting on the bed was a man that looked as though he was at deaths' door, ready to walk through it at any time. The once handsome, sexy man who had been the heartthrob of so many was barely recognizable. Then there was the smell, the acrid stench of the crack his hung in the air and mingled with the body odor emanated off him. It was enough to make her stomach clench and roll in an unpleasant way.

Licking his sore, swollen lips, he looked at her. His first impulse was to wrap his arms around her and hold her close but he doubted she would let him. Close on the heels of that though was to ask her for some money. Shoving both slightly to the side he coughed nervously then asked, "Why are you here? I thought you never wanted to see me again."

Sitting down on the one filthy chair in the corner of the room, facing the bed, she pierced him with a hard stare. "I came because Alex and your family asked me to. They want you to come home and get some help."

Shrugging his thin shoulders, he shook his head, "I'm fine. I don't need any help. While I appreciate their offer, I don't want to move in with them, I want to stay here."

Narrowing her eyes, she gave him withering look. "Oh I just bet you want to stay. If you moved in with them it would be harder to get your fix. Plus they would be watching you like a hawk and you know it."

As he sputtered out a half-baked denial, she held up her hand and continued on, "Don't feed me that shit, Gary. I've dealt with too many crack addicts to believe your line of bullshit. The truth of the matter is you are NOT fine and you DO need help. If you don't pull your head out of your ass and do something you'll probably be dead in six months."

As the minutes ticked by more of the high slipped away, and his body started screaming for another fix, his temper began to rise. "What do you care?" he snapped, eyes blazing. "You're the one that walked out on ME, not the other way around."

Calmly looking at him, she nodded, "You're right, I did. But that doesn't mean I stopped loving you, it just meant that your behavior had become so intolerable that I could no longer live with you."

Snorting, he shot her a black look, "If I'm so bad, then why are you here? You should have told them to go to hell and left me be. Don't do me any favors, Mickey. Just forget the whole thing and walk out again. I don't need your help, nor do I want it." he snarled, fists clenched, body trembling.

"I didn't come here for you, Gary. You're a big boy and can make your own decisions, even if they're bad ones. If you want this then so be it, it's your choice. I came here because of your family, especially your daughters." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a couple pictures and held them up. "You DO remember your kids, don't you?"

As he gazed at the smiling faces of the children he sired with his first wife his heart began to pound quicker and there was a deep ache that seemed to fill his whole body. It had been quite a while since he'd even thought about them. Looking at their smiling faces, he realized just how grown up they were now, both adults and, the last he heard, in college.

Putting them away, she leaned back and glared at him, "You might think you're only hurting yourself, but you're not. This crap is hurting everyone that loves you, especially your kids. How do you think they feel, knowing what you've done to yourself? You were once a wonderful father and spent as much time with them as you could. Now it's as if you abandoned them, caring more about drugs and yourself than you do about them."

That shot scored a direct hit, making him wince. A thick wave of shame spread over him as he thought about what she said. She was right of course, before the booze and drugs they were the center of his life. When he turned to the booze and drugs he had turned his back on them. That had to hurt. At this point it must seem to them like he didn't care about them any more, that he had abandoned them.

Bull's-eye, she thought. It had worked just how she wanted. She had known the only thing that had a chance at yanking him back to reality and to see sense was to bring up his kids. That was the only real chink in his armor. He could easily ignore what she, Alex and the rest of his family felt about everything, but not his kids. Like all children of addicts, his behavior and what he had done hurt them a great deal. They had much the same feelings about the whole situation as the rest of their family, worried that if something drastic didn't happen that they would lose him. While they had steeled themselves for the worst case scenario, that didn't mean they had shut down their feelings. For them, the hope that he would change his ways and come back to them was still there and had never wavered. Since they had been in their teens when the whole debacle started they had understood what was going on with their dad. But understanding didn't always make things easy, they were still his children and it still hurt.

Gazing down at the floor, unable to look at her, he just shook his head sadly, "They are better off without me right now. They don't need a father like me in their life."

Snorting loudly, she rolled her eyes, "Nice way to weasel out of your responsibilities, Gary. But you're wrong, they DO need you. While you have royally fucked yourself up and exited out of their life for a while, that doesn't mean you aren't their father any more. Nor does the crack pipe give you an excuse to abdicate your responsibilities to them. They need you Gary, and you're turning your back on them. They might be in college and grown adults, but that doesn't mean that they don't still need you."

Standing up, she pulled two envelopes out of her purse and dropped them on the mattress beside him. "Those are from your daughters. Read them. I'll go down the street and get a coffee so you can read them alone. Think about what they say and think hard. When I come back we'll talk about it." She said, glaring at him before walking out the door.

Walking across the street to a small diner, she ordered a coffee and sat where she could see the door to the hotel. She had seen the letters that he was now reading, as a matter of fact, it was at her suggestion that they were written. All of them had agreed a real intervention with a substance abuse councilor was out of the question, since it was fairly obvious that there would be no way to get him there. So she had done the next best thing, have his daughters write down how they felt and what the consequences to his actions would be if he didn't do something about his problem.

Leaving him alone to read had been a tactical maneuver to assure that the letters gave their full impact and that he wouldn't be able to divert the conversation from them by arguing with her. Like all letters about such things, they were very powerful and heartfelt. They could swing the whole situation one way or another very easily; it could be the reality check that could persuade him to get the help he needed or push him further down his dark path. As she sipped the coffee, she watched the front door to make sure he didn't slide out to go buy another rock.

When she walked back into the room a half an hour later Gary had showered, changed and combed his hair. In doing those simple things, the old Gary seemed to have come through a bit. Looking him up and down a bit she then gazed back into his eyes, they were bloodshot and it appeared as though he had been crying, "Well?"

Looking at the floor and letting out a ragged breath, he said, "I want to go into rehab."

Nodding, she smiled a bit, "Good choice. Get your things and we'll go."

Sliding her car into one of the vacant places at the entrance to the building, Mickey shut it off and gathered her stuff together. She was met on the front steps by one of the on-site councilors. After signing in and a short tour of the place, she was escorted into one of the rooms they used for therapy sessions. Unlike many places, this was a bright and cheery room with big widows overlooking the lake in the back as well as many plants scattered around.

After shaking hands with Mrs. Reeves, Garys' councilor, she sat down and they went over what was going to happen. Because of her profession, she pretty much knew what was going to happen and why. This was the part of therapy for addicts where they sat down with someone they hurt to tell them how they felt about what they had done and how their addiction had harmed them. It was also where they tried to make amends for all they had put people they cared about through, something fairly standard in most rehab programs.

Gary joined them shortly. From her viewpoint it appeared that he was back to his old self, although he had aged a bit more. Once the ground rules had been laid for the session, Gary spent the next hour reading from a list of things he made and talked to her about how sorry he was for what he had done. They then sat and discussed how his behavior had affected her and the feelings it had caused. Like most such sessions, it was gut-wrenching to do. Discussing past hurts was always a painful thing to do, as was honestly laying out how he felt about them. While she was sure what she had said to him hurt a great deal, he took it well, not losing his temper over it and honestly admitting that she had every right to feel the way she did.

As the session was winding up he dropped the bomb, "Mickey, I know what I did to you and how wrong it was. I had no right to do what I did or to treat you as I did. That being said, I want to ask you to give me another chance and give what we had another go. I can promise I will never again be that much of a fuck-up nor will I pull those dumb shit stunts again. You are the love of my life and my soul mate; there is no one else like you in this world. I know how you feel about second chances, especially when it comes to cheating, but I'm asking you to make an exception this time. Please?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

Composing her face into a neutral mask, she looked back at him, butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Better than most people she knew the odds of him relapsing and turning back to drugs. She was also well aware that most people who cheated once would do it again. Those two reasons should have made her say no instantly, but she couldn't. There was something about him that made her follow her heart and not her head. When she had walked out on him it broke her heart. Part of her had always hoped that in doing such a thing it would have yanked him back into reality. If it had and he had sobered up, she probably would have gone back to him after a cooling down period.

Sighing a bit, she shrugged, "I will think about it Gary, that's the only answer I can give you."

A bit crestfallen, he nodded, "That's all I can ask of you. But please think about it long and hard." While he had hoped against hope that she would say yes, a "think about it" was all right with him. At least it wasn't an out-and-out "no".

…Five Years Later…

Standing in front of the mirror he adjusted his tie, trying to make sure the blasted noose was straight. After he got it perfect, he ran a hand over his hair and goatee to make sure they were in place. It was still a bit strange to look in the mirror and see hair that was almost completely grey now but he had decided to leave it as is rather than dye it. After all he was older now and grey hair was a part of life. Patting his stomach, he grinned a bit. So was the middle-age spread. Yes, he had furniture disease, his chest had dropped into his drawers, but it didn't bother him as he thought it would when he first began to notice it. Things didn't bother him now as they used to. It was a part of life; he accepted that now and didn't worry about it.

Tonight was his anniversary; he was five years clean and sober. He also planned to keep it that way! No, it hadn't been an easy battle to maintain it, but he had and he was proud of himself. The worst part was when he started pal-ing around with old friends in the industry. Old habits were the most dangerous but he had managed to say no and keep on saying it. His ego had taken a beating when he showed back up, as it had when the slipping down the ladder first came.

He was no longer in demand as a singer but as a songwriter he was! That was where his niche was, writing for all the new talent that was coming up. Sure it bothered him. He wanted to get back on that stage, but it wasn't as bad as it could get and he was just grateful that his name was still around and mentioned. Best part was, he was still getting awards! Not for singing this time, but for writing. While it wasn't the same thing he liked it and was happy to settle for that.

Six months ago Alex had come to him with an offer to do a CD of his greatest hits with a couple of new songs added on. Of course, he had jumped at the chance. It was already in the works, they were trying to decide what would be included before the studio work would begin. That was going well but the problem was, when it came to writing something for himself, he couldn't do it! In a matter of hours he could pen something for someone else but he couldn't for himself! If he sat down and tried he drew a blank. Oh it was frustrating! Learning from past lessons he knew not to push it, it would come in its own time.

Coming into the room, dressed and make-up in place, Mickey grabbed her pumps from the closet and stood on one foot, like a stork, putting them on, "Hurry up Gary, or we're going to be late!"

"Ready when you are." he said, smiling at her.

As he sat across from her in the dimly-lit club, holding her hand, this was the one part of the change that he still couldn't get used to. After her "I'll think about it" initially, he was sure that "no" would soon follow. But she had been willing to at least discuss it with him.

The first hurdle had been her insistence that he be clean one full year before she would even talk about it. While it hadn't been easy he had cleared that hurdle. The next was they were going to 'date' a while and work out their problems, included in that was marriage counseling. That was the toughest of all, they brought up all the painful things that had happened and worked through them.

On his 2nd anniversary they had sat down, with her lawyer there, and discussed terms for giving it another go. She was willing but was wary, for obvious reasons. So rather than go into it blindly again, showing him once again how intelligent she was, she drew up a pre-nuptial agreement that listed the consequences of a backslide into drugs. No, she wasn't forcing him into anything, but she made it clear as to what would happen if he backslid - she would leave and this time would take him for half of everything. It was clear, not in a mean or vindictive manner, that she couldn't do it again and there would never be another chance. Those were her terms, clear and to the point, and he could take it or leave it.

While he grumbled and growled about it, certainly unhappy, it hit him quickly enough that it was about one thing, trust. Honestly, he had blown it completely so she wanted some assurances from him that he wasn't going to be a jackass all over again. The more he thought about it the more he realized just how hurt she had been over what he had done. While she knew better than most how to deal with such things it still didn't make the hurt any less on her end nor did she want to open herself up for it all over again.

It took him a few days to put his ego in check and to understand her point of view then, much to his lawyer's dismay, he signed everything she put in front of him. Even after that they didn't jump back in with both feet. They continued 'dating' for a while, gradually spending more time together until she moved back in with him on a part time basis. Then came the split time, stay at his place one month, hers the next. After one full year of that, they re-married.

Sure, like things had been the first time, it was rocky here and there, going through some rough times. There were times, he would admit, that he wanted and craved the drugs, but he resisted. As time went on those cravings were less and less but occasionally did pop up here and there. Steeling his backbone, he dealt with them as they came, gaining the maturity to know when he needed to go to a meeting and be around others with the same problem and when he could do it on his own. Now though, most of the time all he had to do was look at Mickey to get the strength he needed and know what it would cost him if he let them take control.

As time went on he was reminded just how intelligent she was and how everyone, himself included, always underestimated her. It was her that helped orchestrate the reconciliation with his kids, helping smooth the way when it got rocky. Thanks to her he had a relationship with them once again and was able to deal with the hurt and pain he caused them. She's the one that helped him through rough times, when he didn't think the industry would accept him back. She's the one that all but kicked him in the ass and shoved him out the door to go to meeting about writing for others. It was she that would listen to him when he didn't think he could do it and wouldn't be able to write, that he was all washed up. Most of all she BELIEVED in him, something many others didn't.

Sliding his hand across the table, he put it over hers and squeezed, smiling at her. Those blue eyes of hers still sparkled as they had when she was a child, clear and playful. While she was older and she was getting a few lines here and there she was still as beautiful to him as the day he first noticed she was a woman. The mane of blonde hair was still there, loose and flowing as it always was but there was grey here and there in it. Yes, she like him had grown older, but she had done it with a grace very few had. Leaning over the table, he kissed her softly. "I love you, Mickey."

Smiling, she squeezed his hand, "I love you too, Gary. Happy anniversary." Winking, she looked at him, eyes sparkling, "I have a present for you, but you're going to have to wait until you get home to get it." she said, giggling a bit, grin widening.

Grinning from ear to ear, he made a growling noise, "Oh I bet you do!"

It was almost 2 AM when they got home, having spent the night dancing and just talking. After crawling into bed, she handed him a package and winked, "For you."

He could tell it was something written from the feel of it but tore into it anyway. Carefully, he opened the pages and read the music and lyrics there. She had written him a song about love and the trials and tribulations of it. It wasn't the mushy love songs those younger than they were sang but written from the point of view of someone older, which had been through a lot. Smiling as he read it, his eyes misted over a bit. He had forgotten she wrote music. After laying it on the table by the bedside, he leaned over and kissed her, thanking her for it.

After a long, slow bout of lovemaking she fell asleep, curled up to his side. But he couldn't sleep. When the first pink of the rising sun started showing on the horizon, he eased himself out of bed and grabbed the song she had written then went downstairs with it. Sitting in the living room he strummed out the simple melody of it on his guitar and sang along softly. After the first hour, that gut-feeling he always got when he knew what he had written was 'right' and had the potential to be a hit was there. The simplicity of the song and the melody was what held you.

When she came down for breakfast he was still working with it. When he joined her, sipping coffee and picking at his food, he said, "That song is beautiful, honey. Thank you."

Smiling, she nodded, "Thanks, glad you like it."

As she got ready to go to the office, he sat at the table, thinking. As she was gathering her things to leave, he asked, "Do you have any more you've written?"

Giving him a strange look as she put everything into her briefcase, she said, "Tons. They're down in the storage room in my cedar chest."

"Would you mind if I looked through them?"

"Be my guest." she said, shrugging into her coat.

After kissing her goodbye and telling her to have a good day, be made a beeline for the basement. Sitting on the floor, he went through the chest, full of things she had written. Because she never mentioned it, he forgot from time to time that she could write music and still played guitar. For her it was a release, something to do to get what she felt out or put on paper thoughts she had. The music was never intended to be recorded or done on stage; just something she did from time to time for herself.

By noon he had brought all of it upstairs and was sorting through it. For the first time in so many years he was excited, he knew hits when he saw them and a great deal of what she had written were destined to be that. But it wasn't just that, he wanted them to be HIS hits, no one else's. His. For the first time in so many years he could almost taste the success he once had. It would be different this time though, an older, more mature music than anything he had ever done. That fire in his gut was back and he wanted to go into the studio with her music. He knew they were a hit and wanted the chance to make them just that.

While he waited for her to come home he felt like a giddy schoolboy who had just learned to do something special. When she walked in the door he almost pounced on her and all but carried her into the living room to talk to her. Excitedly, as he paced in front of the sofa, he told her what he wanted to do with her songs.

Sitting there, a bemused look on her face, she shook her head and told him he could do as he wished with them, but she didn't think they were any good. In the whole time they had been together she had never seen him this excited about his own music. That had always been more of a job to him than something he would get excited about, so it was odd but refreshing. That sparkle in his eyes and the drive to record had been gone for so long that it was refreshing to see it back. While she had her worries, she pushed them aside and went with the moment.

When he went to Alex with what he had, his excitement was contagious. Quickly, Alex lined up the deals and Gary was once again in the studio recording. Unlike times in the past, this Gary was different, more mature and shooting for a different audience. Everyone involved knew what they were seeing, the CD that would put him back on top, of that there was no doubt.

Before its release, Gary made it clear that his years of touring were over. The CD was going to be all there was. He no longer had the stomach for the road and endless dates in city after city. He would do a few appearances and that was it other than the videos to promote it. Then he demanded that Mickey be with him when he did. They were her songs so she should be there he insisted. Deep down inside he was also afraid of backsliding into his former lifestyle, so he felt with her there he could resist better. But he wanted her to share in the success as well, to see what she had written become what they deserved to be.

His gut had been right, they were a hit, climbing quickly to the top of the charts and thrusting him once again into the spotlight. It wasn't until this point that his fans, the old and new ones, realized how much he had changed. Older and much wiser he was grounded in reality now, not caring about the things the younger ones did. In interviews, he made sure all knew who had written those hits and just how much he owed her for his current success.

When the country music awards rolled around it was no surprise that "Give Me Wings", the song she had written him for his anniversary, was nominated for several. In the ceremony for the technical awards the night before the show was aired live, she had won as song writer for it, much to her surprise. But when it got song of the year the next night Gary took the stage alone to accept it.

Standing at the mic, amid the applause, he quietly thanked his fans then looked at her and smiled. "This song was written by my wife for me and I thank her for that. But most of all I thank her for all she has done for me. It is because of her that I am able to stand here once again.

Quite frankly, it is because of her that I am probably alive today. She went into the depths of my hell and drug me back from the brink. She gave me another chance at so many things that I didn't deserve. She was there to give me a kick in the ass when I deserved it and love when I didn't.

She has been my rock when I needed it, giving me strength when I didn't have it. But most of all she loved me, through the hard times and the good ones, even when I made it so hard to do so. It wasn't the star she loved; it was the person behind it. The person that had the same issues and problems all have. It was me she loved, not my stardom, not my fame but me. For that, I thank her." With tears sparkling in his eyes he said, "Thank you Mickey. I have you to thank for this." He said, holding the award out. "But most of all thank you for loving me. I love you."

Standing and applauding like the rest, tears in her eyes, she mouthed back, "I love you too Gary."