All three of them were in Briana's jeep.  It was quiet most of the ride, aside from Mike flicking a lighter on yet another cigarette every so often.  He had been chain-smoking ever since they discharged him from the hospital.  He liked to think he was hot boxing cigarettes because he hadn't been able to smoke one in two weeks.  But that was far from the truth.  Mike could tell that Briana was extremely hesitant about allowing him to live with her & Layne.  He knew it was because of the altercation that happened at Nicky's funeral.

Layne turned around in his seat to get a good look at his friend.  Mike was starting to look better.  He wasn't as thin anymore and he had color back in his face.  Looking at his hand that held the cigarette, though, he could tell Mike was still going through some form of withdrawal.  His hand was shaking like an old man's with Parkinson's.

"How come you're still having tremors?" Layne asked him, his eyebrows furrowed.

Mike chewed on his lower lip.  He kept his eyes out the window.  He was tired of taking in that look of pity on his best friend's face.  "Benzodiazepines take forever to fully get out of your system...especially Valium and k's," he grumbled.  He took another drag from his smoke, sighing a bit when he exhaled.  "I dunno why those assholes didn't write a script for more Librium for me.... This shit sucks."

"They never write a script of controlled substances for addicts," Briana intervened.  She sounded on edge, her expression blank.  "Plus you're over the hump of the worst point of benzo withdrawal.  You're not at seizure risk anymore."

Layne turned back around to look at her.  He sighed when he took in her expression.  She looked irritated.  He squeezed her shoulder and leaned over to her.  "Babe, it'll be okay...  Mike is going to get better, I promise," he whispered into her ear.

She turned on the radio and cranked the volume up.  She began speeding through downtown Seattle.  Layne's eyes grew wide as he heard the screeching of her jeep's wheels.  He held on for dear life once the car started bumping and tilting due to her sharp turns.

"Bre, JESUS, we're not in a fucking race here!" Layne shouted.  He flicked off the radio, sharing a look with Mike.  Turning back to look at his girlfriend, he noticed that her face was now crimson with rage.  "Briana, what the fuck?  Mellow the heck out."

She pulled her jeep over and parallel parked it near a subsidized apartment complex.  Reaching into her jacket pocket, she lit a cigarette.  She turned to Mike, her face softening when she saw him giving her a look as though he was begging her to toss him on the road and run him over.

"Mike," she started.  She gulped down her nerves, taking a few drags of her cigarette.  Her body leaned back into her driver's seat.  "Mike, I'm sorry for acting cold towards you," she groaned.  She caught a look from Layne.  He was just sitting there in his passenger seat, his eyebrows raised.  Her eyes wavered back at Mike.  "It's just...I'm worried about Layne AND you now.  I don't want to find the both of you using again all because I allowed you to stay under the same roof.  It's not that I don't like you.  I get it that you're an addict and that the disease ISNT WHO YOU ARE. I'm really scared."

Mike nodded and flicked his cigarette out the window.  "I understand, Briana," he muttered.  "I know I've done some fucked up shit in front of you...  I honestly was shocked when you said you were going to allow me to stay with you guys."  He sighed and looked over at Layne.  "I don't want to hurt anyone anymore though...  And I'm tired of living the way I have been.  Junk doesn't work for me like it used to, it's part of the reason why I tried..."  He stopped himself.  He squeezed those dark eyes shut, gulping back his remorse.  "It's part of why I tried to do what I did..."  His eyes slid over to Briana.  "I want to change.  I know you probably don't believe me due to all of the shit I did, but I really do want to change.  This stupid doper life style isn't worth it...  Like I've said, I don't really have anyone anymore--"

"You still have us," Layne interrupted.  A sad smile was tugged on his face as he grabbed Mike's hand and gripped it.  "And we want to help you," he turned back to Briana, eyeing her in question.  "Right, Bre...?"

She sighed & nodded.  She couldn't deny the fact that she cared.  "Yes, we do want to help you, Mike.  I only hope you're serious about getting better."

"Serious as I'll ever be," Mike muttered.  "I'll prove it to you."

Briana smiled and turned her jeep back on.  She pulled out of the parking space.  "So, your apartment is right down here, right?" she asked Mike, pointing to the left of the road.

Mike nodded.  He lit yet another cigarette as Briana turned down the road & parked in front of the old school house that was morphed into an apartment complex.  "It's the first floor so it'll be easy," Mike said as he got out of the car.  "JUST A WARNING: it's reeeaaally fucking messy..."

Layne smirked.  "Is it as bad as my condo earlier this year?"

"FUUUUUCK no!" Mike shrieked, laughing with him.

All three of them entered the building.  Mike shook violently as he unlocked the door.  He groaned when he opened it, catching a concerned look from Briana.

"Is there...ummm...  Is there drugs in there?" Briana asked him before stepping in.

Mike scratched his brow nervously.  He looked over at Layne.  "Yeah, there is."

Briana sighed.  "I'll go get it."  She glared over at Layne.  "You guys stay out here.  I don't want you two getting any ideas..."

"Yes, mother," Layne squeaked.  He giggled when he got that stern look from Briana.  "Ha...sorry, I couldn't resist..."

Briana rolled her eyes & disappeared into the apartment.  Shock overcame her as she looked around.  There was close to nothing in his place.  There was no furniture, just a bean-bag chair & a rug in the center of his living room.  A tiny tube tv was sat on top of an oak dresser near it.  She immediately spotted a tiny ballon.  Picking it up, she sighed, noticing there was still a tiny bit of black tar heroin in it.  She grabbed the package of syringes & the drug-caked spoons that were strewn around the carpet.  She then immediately went into his restroom & opened the medicine cabinet.  There was many empty prescription containers.  She groaned in agony when she found one with a few tablets of Valium and also oxycodone in it.

"Goddamn this is triggering," she muttered to herself, licking her lips.  Before she could get any ideas, she stomped over to his kitchen & tossed the drugs into the trash bag.  Immediately afterwards, she tugged open the refrigerator door & began throwing away cans of beer & bottles of whiskey and Bacardi.  She was shocked to see Mike didn't even have any dishes or cookware in his kitchen.  Instead, there were trash bags filled with take-away containers & packages of plastic plates & silverware.

She sped-walked back to the entrance door, giving Mike a look.  "I think I got all of it," she said.

"Did you check the bedroom..." he muttered.  He was blushing, slightly embarrassed.

Briana groaned and went back into his apartment.  Her eyes grew wide when she entered his bedroom.  There were piles of balloons & ziplock bags & charred tin foil in the corner of the barren room.  Used syringe needles and clothes were strung everywhere.  She spotted a tray near the mattress in the middle of the room that was covered in blue powder.  She ran to it, basically praying that she wouldn't relapse and rub some of the Xanax in her gums as she jolted back into the kitchen & tossed it out.  She then went back & gathered the powder-lined bags & balloons & charred tin foil and threw it away.

"I got it all!" she called out to them.  She sighed with relief, glad it was over, though her eyes were planted on the garbage bin in Mike's kitchen.  She lit another cigarette, watching as the two recovering addicts quickly grabbed Mike's clothes and tossed them into bags.

When Layne turned to head out with a couple trash bags full of clothes, his brows furrowed.  He could tell that Briana was bothered.  "Are you okay, sweetie?" he asked as he stopped at the front door.

She took another drag from her cigarette, keeping her eyes now planted at her feet.  "Let's hurry up and get this over with," she grumbled.  She didn't feel like telling him she was triggered like crazy to get high.

Layne shrugged and walked out to the jeep.  Mike followed quickly behind, clutching his bass guitar & amp close to him.  "Now we need to get the dresser and we're done," Mike muttered.  He looked about as upset as Briana did.

Layne's eyebrows raised with surprise.  "Really?  What about everything else--"

"Fuck everything else, I don't need it," Mike interrupted.  His eyes were wide.  He appeared petrified.

Layne nodded, knowing very well now that Mike & Briana were jonzing due to the drugs in the place.  He scratched his scalp, feeling the urge to use himself.  "Yeah, I agree.  Let's get the fuck out of here."

All three of them quickly maneuvered the dresser into the jeep.  With that, they were done.  All of them looked relieved as ever as they jumped back into the car.

"Well, that's over with..." Briana blurted.

Mike sighed.  "Sorry about that, Bre..."

She shrugged.  "I'm just glad you didn't feel the urge to pocket any of it."

A smile curled on his skinny face.  "I told you, I really want to change.  I mean it."

It was silent the entire ride back to Briana & Layne's place.  Not much was said when they all got there, either.  Mike was too tired and still slightly sick due to benzo withdrawal, so he quickly retired to his bed in their spare bedroom after they moved his dresser into it and his clean clothes.  Briana couldnt help it but to search his dresser.  She was pleasantly surprised to find no drugs or paraphernalia in it.

Maybe Mike REALLY DID want to change.  Still, Briana was planning to keep her eye on him...