Author's Notes: Just for the record, the italicized lines near the end of this chapter are from the song "Me and Bobby McGee", by the extremely talented Mr. Kris Kristofferson. Just sayin'.
*****
Izzy had never asked much out of life. A warm bed to sleep in, friends at his side, a guitar under his fingers. He wasn�t like Axl, who wanted to be famous, wanted to be adored and remembered for the way he changed the world with his music. Izzy had never even considered changing the world. The music alone had been enough for him; the simple fact that he could, by shifting his fingers along six strings, produce sounds that brought a little joy to other people had been mind blowing enough. He�d come out to L.A. first, but Axl was the driving force, always had been. Up until this morning, Izzy�d figured he always would be.
He�d been mildly surprised when Axl had materialized, pale-faced and nervous, at his hotel room door. Of all the guys, Izzy�d figured Axl was the least likely to get riled up by stories of a bizarre fast-acting flu. But there he�d been and here he was now, slightly less jittery but still pale, still shaken. He put on a good front, posturing and puffing his chest out like a little fighting rooster, but no matter how loudly he proclaimed his desire to go kill more of the things out there, Izzy didn�t believe him.
Slash and Duff hadn�t attempted any such front. The both of them were sitting on the couch, Slash wedged up in the corner and Duff leaning against him, brown eyes closed. They both looked tired as hell and Izzy had noticed a fine trembling in Slash�s hands, one that he recognized all too well.
�So are we gonna sit here all fucking day?� Axl demanded, bouncing the table leg against his palm. �Why don�t we patrol this floor, clear it the fuck out so we don�t have to huddle up in one room like a bunch of homos?� Duff made a wounded noise and peeled open one eye. He looked a little better than Slash, though the dark circles under his eyes were far more pronounced than usual.
�We�re not exactly in any shape to clear the floor,� Izzy answered gently, hoping to stop the argument in its tracks. Duff was a sweet guy, but Izzy didn�t doubt for a second that he�d beat the hell out of Axl if it came down to it.
�I dunno,� Slash said, stirring a little. �Maybe we should. I gotta get some stuff out of the room, anyway, and we can whack a couple of the bastards on the way there.� Izzy�s brows drew down and he shifted uncomfortably. He knew exactly what Slash wanted to get out of the room, and knew also that he couldn�t let that happen.
�Maybe we should just wait,� he said cautiously. He wanted to gauge Slash�s reaction, see if he�d drop the subject or if they�d have to make this a private conversation. He didn�t want to have to chew Slash out, but the truth was, they wouldn�t survive two seconds with a doped up junkie on their hands.
His ploy to keep the peace didn�t succeed. Slash sat up a little, eyes narrowed, and Izzy noted the sheen of sweat on his bare skin. Not good. He�d be in a bad way real soon. �Wait nothing,� Slash snarled. �It�s two fucking doors down. It�ll only take ten seconds, tops. I�ll take monkeyboy with me and we�ll be fine.�
�Saul�� Duff murmured, laying a hand on Slash�s arm and worrying his lower lip. Izzy cut him off, voice firm.
�Dude, let�s not do this right now,� he warned. Slash�s jaw jutted out stubbornly and Izzy knew he was fighting a losing battle. �Not in front of everyone else, then.� He stood and Slash followed suit, dark eyes blazing behind his curtain of hair. Izzy hadn�t mentioned the hair-cutting thing since they�d returned, but he knew he�d have to bring it up again soon. They would have to leave the hotel eventually and they wouldn�t survive two seconds out there with their hair flapping around, ready to be grabbed.
�Everyone else?� Axl yelped, sitting up straight. There was a wounded expression on his face that Izzy knew to be false. He didn�t really care so much about what had to be said as he cared about being left out. If there was one thing Axl Rose couldn�t cope with it was being left out of the loop. �Since when did we become everyone else!?�
�Not now, Billy,� Izzy snapped, shooting him a look. That, combined with the use of his given name, was enough to send Axl into a sulky silence. Izzy would catch hell for the dismissal later, but he had more pressing things to take care of now. He gestured curtly to Slash and the two of them walked into the suite�s bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
�Listen, man,� Izzy began, but Slash interrupted.
�No, you listen. I�m not playing this fucking game with you, Iz. It�s easy for you to sit there and tell me to wait; you�ve got your fucking stash in here already.� A fierce scowl twisted his dark features, and Izzy was tempted to respond in kind. Instead, he kept his voice level.
�I quit two months ago,� he answered. Slash recoiled slightly, the snarling mask slipping for a moment to reveal shock. �I know, you didn�t notice. No one did except Steven.� He shrugged. It hadn�t hurt too much that no one seemed to care that he�d kicked his habit. He�d always kept it fairly private anyway. �I�m not gonna lie to you, man, it�s rough as hell and I really wish I didn�t have to do this to you.�
�You wish you didn�t have to do this to me,� Slash repeated flatly, folding his arms across his chest. Izzy winced a little; that hadn�t come out right at all.
�That�s not what I meant and you know it,� he said. �Look, I don�t know why you guys decided to put me in charge here. I don�t like it, I don�t want it, and I sure as fuck don�t need it. But the fact of the matter is, you all came to my room. You asked me what I thought we should do. And now I�m telling you. You�ve got to stop shooting up.�
�You want me to just fucking quit? Cold turkey? You�re insane.� Slash shook his head and turned away from Izzy, reaching for the door. �You�re totally fucking insane and I�m not gonna sit around and listen to this bullshit.�
�You�re gonna get yourself killed, Slash.� It took a hell of an effort to keep his voice steady. He�d figured that Slash would react badly to this, but goddamn it, he was just trying to keep everyone alive.
�Fuck you, Stradlin!� Slash rounded on him, one hand resting on the doorknob. �It�s my fucking life. And in case you hadn�t noticed, I�m a big boy now. I don�t need you playing mommy.�
�Fuck your life,� Izzy said, voice cool as ice. �What about Duff?�
Slash flinched visibly at that, and his hand fell from the doorknob. �The fuck did you just say?� All the anger was gone from his voice, and Izzy felt a pang of guilt. He wished he hadn�t had to go there, but Slash was making shit very difficult.
�I said, what about Duff?� He left it there. Slash�s imagination would do the scenario more justice than Izzy ever could. He liked to pretend that he was just fucking Duff, but Izzy, at least, knew better than that. He�d seen the way Slash focused on Duff, the way Duff clung to Slash�s arm, the way they leaned on each other for support. Maybe they hadn�t admitted it yet, but they were too far gone to ever come back.
�That was a low fucking blow, Iz,� Slash murmured, arms wrapping around his torso. It was a defensive gesture this time, and Izzy resisted the urge to go over and hug Slash tight. It was a low blow, but a necessary one. Slash would get over it.
�You know it�s the truth, though,� he said softly. �He wouldn�t last two seconds without you, and you won�t last two seconds unless you give up the needle.� Slash flinched again, and this time Izzy did cross the room, arms wrapping around his friend�s shoulders. �Look, I know it fucking sucks. But you�ve gotta do it, and there�s no better time than now.�
Slash leaned on Izzy for half a second, then pulled away and rubbed at his face. �Yeah. You�re right.� He smiled humorlessly, and Izzy saw the spark of hatred flash in his dark eyes. �You�re a self-righteous fuckface, but you�re right.�
�We�ll pull the mattress off the bed and move it in here,� Izzy answered quietly, opening the door and motioning for Duff to come in. He stood with a faintly puzzled expression on his haggard face and shuffled over.
�What?� he asked, glancing over Izzy�s shoulder at Slash. �What�s wrong?� Izzy had half expected Duff to be hysterical, but his brown eyes were serene and the only emotion in his voice was concern.
�Nothing, man,� Slash said, throwing Izzy a glance. �I just gotta talk to you for a second, that�s all.� Izzy slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and padded over to the couch. Axl was next to him before he could even blink, green eyes bright and curious.
�Dude, what the fuck is going on?� he demanded. Izzy glanced over at him and debated not saying anything. Axl could be notoriously insensitive, and the last thing they needed was him giving Slash hell about his heroin use. Then again, he was in it with them and deserved to know just as much as anyone else.
�Slash� is gonna be sick for a while,� he said cautiously, searching for a way to phrase it so that Axl wouldn�t freak out. Axl was two steps ahead of him, and spoke before Izzy could continue.
�He�s finally quitting the smack, huh?� Izzy raised a slow eyebrow and Axl shrugged. �I�m not as oblivious as you guys think I am. I noticed when you quit.� Izzy could only stare, shocked. Axl had noticed? He hadn�t said anything; the only one who�d bothered to congratulate Izzy was Steven, and he�d figured that only Steven really gave a shit. Poor Steven, who was out there with the fucking monsters�
�You didn�t say anything,� Izzy said quietly. �I didn�t think you cared.�
�Jeff�� Axl was trying really hard not to look wounded, and Izzy was trying equally hard not to lean over and hug him close. They weren�t kids anymore and he couldn�t get away with that sort of physical comfort, though god knew they both needed it.
�I know, I�m sorry. That was a shitty thing to say.� He stood abruptly, turning towards the bed. It was piled high with shit, suitcases and a few chairs and a small table. They�d have to move all that before they could get to the mattress, and then pile it all back on. No big deal; they�d managed fine before. But they were both getting tired, and the stress level was running pretty fucking high. �Come on, we need to get the mattress into the room so he�ll have somewhere to lie down.�
Axl stood and followed him to the side of the bed, and they started unloading the mattress. It took about thirty minutes to get everything off and out of the way, and then another ten to actually wrestle the mattress off of the bed frame.
�Fuck, man,� Axl muttered as they stood, panting and leaning against the upright mattress. �I�m gonna start fucking working out.� Izzy laughed softly and glanced back at the door. Duff and Slash still hadn�t come out of the room, and he wondered if he should disturb them. He didn�t have to wonder long, because Axl abandoned his post at the other end of the mattress and went to knock on the door.
There was a moment of silence, then the door swung open. Duff looked worse than he had when he�d gone into the room, pale and drawn with black smudges around his eyes that gave him a ghostly air. He and Axl stood for a moment, staring at each other, then Axl gestured back over his shoulder.
�We, um, got the mattress, man. You want us to go ahead and bring it in?�
�Yeah�� Duff managed a wavering smile and shifted aside, holding the door open. �Could you?� Axl nodded and returned, and he and Izzy began to manhandle the mattress into the bedroom.
The door to the bedroom was wide, wide enough to have allowed the bed itself through in their earlier, frenzied moving. There were scratches along the door frame, and it had made a horrific noise, but the bed had gone through. So it wasn�t a terrible chore to get the mattress back inside, though by the time they tipped over to rest in the center of the floor, both of them were panting and coated in sweat.
�Seriously,� Axl muttered. �Working out. Goddamn.� Izzy flashed him a tight smile, but his eyes were glued to Slash. He was looking pretty rough, and Izzy knew it would just get worse. Best for Axl and him to leave Slash alone. And Duff, too, apparently. Izzy hadn�t wanted to see anyone when he was suffering through withdrawal, but Duff stood as though he�d taken root, and Izzy could only assume that they�d discussed the matter.
�C�mon, man,� he murmured, grabbing Axl by the arm and tugging him out of the room. He looked like he wanted to stay, maybe grab some popcorn and watch the show. �We need to make some supper.� Axl rolled his eyes, but followed Izzy out into the main room.
�I�m not hungry,� he groused, flopping back down on the couch and glaring at the closed door. Izzy sighed and dragged a small hotplate out of the bag of shit they�d hauled up. He wasn�t in the mood to deal with Axl�s melodramatics, so he decided simply to ignore them.
�What do you want, corned beef or�� Izzy dug around and unearthed a small can. �Ew, who brought potted meat?�
�Probably Slash,� Axl answered, grabbing the can of faux meat out of Izzy�s hand and shrugging. �He�s a weird motherfucker. Anyway, this is no worse than the corned beef. It just doesn�t try to pretend it�s semi-wholesome.� Izzy snorted and snatched the potted meat away from Axl, tucking it back into the bag. It could stay there until they were desperate. Only starvation made leftover animal parts seem appetizing.
�Grab us a few bowls, will ya?� Izzy instructed, plugging in the hotplate and leaning back against the wall. They�d brought up not only plastic bowls and a handful of forks and spoons, but a small cooking pot, several plastic glasses, a can opener, and a set of sharp knives. Axl gathered up utensils as Izzy busied himself with cooking the corned beef, and by the time it was ready Axl had a lovely little dining table set up.
�Real fuckin� quaint, isn�t it?� he said, settling cross-legged at the small table. It was the same one that he�d mangled in order to get his club, and instead of trying to prop it up, he�d just knocked all the other legs off, so that they had a sort of low Japanese style table. �If you weren�t such a fascist dickhole we could have candles and everything.�
�That�s wasteful and you know it. We might need those later.� Izzy calmly lifted a spoonful of corned beef to his lips to hide a wistful little smile. It would be nice to sit down and have a lovely, private little candlelit dinner with Axl. He�d given that little pipe dream up a long time ago, but he was still slightly fond of it.
�Yeah, yeah,� Axl sighed, picking at his food. It was hard not to roll his eyes; Axl obvious boredom was so ridiculous and self-centered that Izzy was tempted to lean across the table and slap him.
�Eat your food, Axl,� he ordered. �If you starve yourself, you�ll never be able to fight� them.� He ducked his head at Axl�s nasty little laugh. He was with Slash on this particular issue, though. He didn�t want to call them zombies, although he was fairly certain that�s what they were. It seemed too sci-fi, too B-movie.
�Whatever, Iz. You worry too fucking�� He fell silent abruptly and Izzy�s head jerked up in surprise. Axl never shut up, not unless he had a damn good reason. After a moment�s tense silence, that reason revealed itself.
There was a low moan from the other side of the door, and then a thumping, scrabbling sound like something was trying to claw down the door. Axl let out a low moan of horror and gripped his club so tight that his knuckles turned white, wide green eyes focused on Izzy.
�What do we do?� he whispered, voice barely audible. Izzy could only shake his head and stare at the door. There was nothing they could do. If they unblocked the door and killed the one creature, more would take its place. In fact, he could hear more shuffling up to the door, their inhuman voices raising in a chorus of hungry growls and moans. He could almost see them there in the hall, bumping against each other, broken nails scrabbling at the wooden door.
�Izzy, please!� Axl begged, voice rising to a high whine. There was panic in his eyes, a panic that was echoed in Izzy, though he knew he couldn�t show it. He was supposed to keep his shit together. He was supposed to keep the guys safe. �Do something!�
Izzy rose and looked around wildly, chewing at his lower lip. There was the television; that would drown out the sounds, but the only thing on would be more news reports and that would only inflame the helpless fear. The door to the bedroom swung open and Duff peeked out. His hair was sticky with sweat and falling into his face, but Izzy could see the whites of his eyes showing from behind bleached blonde strands.
�Are they out there?� he asked. Izzy was amazed by how level his voice sounded, and he answered with a curt nod. �Slash is freaking out, dude. What do we do?�
Shit, of course. Slash would be freaking out. Izzy remembered well the intense paranoia that had accompanied his own withdrawals; he could only imagine how it must be for Slash, who actually had something to be legitimately concerned over. Both Duff and Axl were staring at him now, and the expectant light in their eyes made him want to scream. I�m not a fucking general! I don�t know what to do!
Then his eyes fell on his guitar case.
He was across the room in a second, drawing the instrument out and cradling it against his chest. Axl made a puzzled noise, but Izzy cut him off by strumming a chord. Hell, the monsters already knew they were in here. Might as well drown them out as best they could. Just the sound of that one chord was immediately soothing, and he crossed slowly to where Duff stood, settling against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.
The chords came forward without any consideration, and Axl gave a little surprised laugh. It had been their favorite song to play together growing up, and it seemed the most natural choice at the moment. Axl joined him on the floor and cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders.
�Kris or Janis?� he asked softly. Duff cocked his head like a puzzled bird, and Izzy smiled warmly.
�Kris, but in Janis voice,� he said. Axl nodded and winked up at Duff, then cleared his throat again and closed his eyes.
�Busted flat in Baton Rouge, headin� for the trains�� Axl�s voice was low and soft and rich as whiskey and honey. Duff recognized the tune immediately, and sighed softly as he relaxed back against the doorframe. Between Axl and Izzy, the moaning faded into the background, and when they hit the chorus, Duff joined in, harmonizing effortlessly.
�Freedom�s just another word for nothin� left to lose, and nothin� ain�t worth nothin� but it�s free��
From inside the bedroom, Slash gave a rattling laugh, and Izzy closed his eyes against the pain in his friend�s voice. It sucked, it all sucked. This wasn�t the way things were supposed to be. They were supposed to be on stage, playing their hearts out to an adoring audience. Instead, they were trapped in a fucking hotel room, playing to preserve their sanity. Izzy supposed, though, that it was a noble use for the song. Kris and Janis would have been proud.
�Well, I�d trade all of my tomorrows for one single yesterday�� The way Axl sang the line, it sounded like his heart was tearing out. Izzy understood the sentiment. God, what he wouldn�t give to be a stupid, careless kid again, all half-formed dreams and hopeless puppy love.
When the song ended, Izzy raised an eyebrow at Axl. �How long can you go for, man?� Axl�s narrow shoulders squared, and he flashed Izzy a familiar, cocky smile.
�Baby, as long as you can play, I can sing.� Izzy glanced up at Duff, who nodded and smiled. Right, then. He supposed this was what it all came down to, really. This was their life, reduced to fundamentals, and that was, surprisingly, fine with him. After all, what was a band but a bunch of friends who made music to keep the horrors at bay?
�Let�s fucking do it then,� he murmured, grinning as his fingers flowed into the next song.
