Chapter Three

Jon woke, or rather came to, still folded in Dot’s arms, his throat feeling raw from crying, his eyes swollen and painful. He cleared his throat slightly, hoping to shift the soreness, but it just made it worse, then over the coughing spasm that shook him he heard Dot’s voice.

“You’re awake again, huh?” She said gently, rubbing a hand over his bare back.

“Am I?” He croaked, raising his head slightly to peer up at her. “Hi Dot.”

“Hi yourself.” Her smile was tender. The kind of gentle smile that was usually directed at the mentally wobbly, and as Jon moved slightly he saw her wrinkle her nose distastefully.

“What?” Jon said defensively, and Dot flushed at his tone.

“Well……….when did you last shower, Jon? You kinda stink.”

“I do?” Then he remembered noticing it himself, and it was his turn to blush. “Yeah, I guess I do. I haven’t showered since I got home. Actually, not since we left to fly back.”

“Jon - that was….that was five days ago! You haven’t showered in five days?!”

Dot wasn’t sure why that shocked her. His condition was obvious - both the sight and smell of him had told her he’d been letting himself sink lower and lower - but for him, a guy she well knew to be almost religious in personal hygiene, to admit to not showering in almost a week, well, that was a real surprise.

“Haven’t felt like it.” He mumbled, sulkiness creeping into his voice, and Dot knew she had to at least try to put some backbone into him again.

“Well, you’d better feel like it, mister.” She pulled free of his arms, sliding out of the bed and looking down at him sternly. “Get your sorry ass into the shower. Right now.”

“What are you, my mother?” He grunted, and Dot shook her head.

“No. But if you keep this up, I’ll call her to come out here and help me knock you straight again.”

“Shit.” Jon whispered. Why the hell did he have to fall for a woman as strong as Dorothea Hurley? But, if he were honest, he knew this was what he probably needed right now - somebody to force him out of this funk - and he resignedly dragged himself to the edge of the bed, dropping his feet to the floor.

“I’ll go make coffee.” Dot said, heading toward the door as he got to his feet.

Luckily, though, she looked back before she left, because the combination of no food and too much whiskey, along with barely moving for two days almost landed Jon on his ass on the floor.

“Whoa, shit!” He muttered as the room spun around him, and he tried to focus on something - anything - to grab hold of before he fell.

Dot took two steps and was by his side, grabbing him and holding him upright, blessing her strenuous training routine for giving her enough strength to hold a grown man on his feet.

“Easy, Jon.” She murmured. “Dammit. When did you last eat? Or drink something other than whiskey?”

“I ate before we got on the plane.” He muttered. “And I had coffee a couple days ago.”

Dot was stunned. Did he really hate himself that much? Was he deliberately trying to starve - or drink - himself to death? Either way, this was no time to be grilling him for answers, and she hooked her arm lower on his waist, propelling him toward the bathroom.

“We’ll fix that soon. Right now you’re getting into that shower, babe. I can’t take the stink much longer.”

His legs were weak, and he leaned heavily on her as they went into the bathroom, numbly allowing Dot to push him into the shower, and she pulled off her own clothes as he leaned on the wall. Both naked, Dot stepped into the shower with him, setting the water temperature lower than she knew he’d usually use, knowing that a scalding hot shower wasn’t a good idea at the moment.

He stood like a child as she rubbed soap into his skin, just watching her, barely able to string two thoughts together right now. Dot didn’t speak either, just washed him thoroughly, averting her eyes when she caught a glimpse of his face and saw the pain there. And the tears, though maybe it was just water running down his face. Jon whispered softly to her, and she paused, looking into his blue eyes, almost exactly the same height as hers.

“What, baby?”

“Why do you love me?” He asked again, and when he blinked she saw it was tears on his face.

Jon raised one hand to touch her face, tracing his fingertips along her jaw before asking again.

“Why, Dot?”

“I don’t know. I love you because you’re you, Jon. I love you because when I’m not with you it feels like something’s missing. I love you because of your strength, and your tenderness. I just love you.”

“Even if I don’t fucking deserve it.” He muttered darkly, and Dot immediately punched his bicep. Hard.

“Hey! Don’t make me beat sense into you.” She threatened, then relented almost immediately. “At least not yet.”

Jon was actually feeling marginally better now that he didn’t stink like David’s socks, and he even managed to dredge up a smile. Compared to his usual, famous grin, it was a pale, pathetic ghost of a smile, but it was better than nothing, and Dot smiled back at him, leaning in to just touch her lips to his.

“There’s my Jon.” She approved. “I knew you were still in there somewhere.”

“Yeah.” He said, and moved to kiss her again, but Dot pulled away.

“Nuh-uh. If you haven’t showered in five days, God knows when you last cleaned your teeth, so no thank you!” She moved toward the shower door, more confident now that he’d stay on his feet. “Why don’t you rinse off and clean your teeth, and I’ll go fix some coffee. And some food, if there is any.”

“Yes, mom.” He muttered, but there was a tiny hint of humor in his voice again.

Dot left him there, rubbing herself quickly dry with a towel and pulling her clothes on again. In the bedroom, she collected the four dead whiskey bottles, taking them down to the kitchen with her.

There was a strange smell in the kitchen, like tar on a hot summer day, and she found the source when she went to the coffee pot. Well, it used to be a coffee pot. Now it was some kind of garden, with a variety of interestingly colored mould spots on the surface of the black gunk which probably used to be coffee. Strangely, the power switch was in the ‘on’ position, though the indicator light was dark, and she flicked it off, then on again with no effect.

When she tried to lift off the coffee pot, it seemed to be welded to the base, and she realised Jon had left it switched on - probably for days - until the overworked thermostat finally gave up and died. He was just lucky that it had done it’s job, otherwise it could’ve burned up, taking the kitchen, house and Jon with it. Or maybe he’d done it deliberately, subconsciously hoping for that result.

“Oh baby.” Dot whispered sadly, giving up on the coffee pot, leaning on the countertop with both hands, shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Jonny.”

With an effort, she lifted her head. Moping around wasn’t going to help Jon - he needed her strong. She opened cupboards, finding no food and not even any instant coffee. Looked like they were going out for breakfast then. Or lunch. While she waited for him to come downstairs, Dot walked over to the living room, finding a coffee mug by the couch and picking it up. When she turned around, she saw the state of the armchair - now a mottled mixture of cream and coffee-brown, just a hint of mould furring the surface - and she was starting to get angry as she went to the kitchen once more.

“Looks like I got here just in time.” She said, allowing herself to get angry, hoping it would let her deliver the kick in the ass that Jon so obviously needed.