Hope

The week flew by in a blaze of action and new routine. Justine did end up coming to Chase's apartment when she was discharged from the hospital. Chase would work on his commissions in the morning after breakfast and in the early evenings he and Justine would sit and talk or watching shows while they went through a practice of checking her heart rate and monitoring her pain.

One thing that Justine had suggested–which Chase had agreed whole heartedly with–was that he was in charge of her prescribed pain medication, and so he'd installed a decent padlock on his medicine cabinet. So far as he was aware, she'd never attempted to break in and double up on the meds at any point, but they both agreed that with her previous additions there was no reason to provide anymore opportunity than need be.

Still, having Justine essentially live with him brought a number of changes to his life that Chase hadn't foreseen, and he couldn't deny that some of it was getting to him. The first major change was a second bed placed in the living room. Honestly, that had been nothing. He only was in the room in the evenings and the bed wasn't very obtrusive. What was bothersome was that Justine stayed up far later and slept in longer than he did most days. It meant his morning routine went from waking himself up to trying to remain as quiet as possible while cooking and preparing coffee. Also there was the smoking.

When she'd first come to him, Justine wasn't a smoker, but the missing heroin in her life caused anxiety and nervousness which she had replaced by smoking cigarettes. It wasn't that he disapproved of the smoking… well at least not as a solution to recovering from heroin. But he hated the smell of the things and there seemed to be no escape from it. Justine made the effort to only smoke out on the balcony but the scent still clung to her hair and clothes for up to an hour afterwards. In the end, he'd bought several scented plug-ins and candles for his apartment. Nevertheless, his home–which used to smell like nothing whatsoever–now only smelled like smoke.

Still there were pros to go with the cons too. Justine often cooked a proper lunch for him while working, and she could provide a very helpful outside eye while he worked on his projects. Meanwhile, she slowly began to write poetry again as well. It wasn't much at first, but Chase had noticed the notepad he'd left by the chair would move around slightly while he worked on his pictures. Then, she would sometimes sit and write poems while he was in the room. Then just the other day she'd asked if he would pick her up some more paper and pens for more poems, and he'd been all to happy to oblige.

Somehow, it seemed a great victory to him that she had resumed writing, and was willing to write the poems around him. Likely because Justine was always so guarded and defensive, the act of witnessing her creating her art was oddly intimate. It was like she was reaching out to a small piece of herself, which remained despite all the hardships of her life, and he was allowed to see. He hadn't been able to read any of her works, but he felt that he might be allowed to someday. For now though, he was content in being a friend who could help her through a demanding time.

Luckily for both of their sanity, Justine was steadily improving. She no longer shook violently and was able to eat fairly regularly. While she certainly didn't have a lot of strength or energy, she was able to care for herself regularly now, which Chase hoped meant that the symptoms of the withdrawal were finally over.

She was certainly more cognitive and capable to walking around and thinking clearly, which was a breath of relief to him. It had startled him when he'd spoken to the doctor about long-term care.

The fact was that Justine would have the best chance if she continued the methadone treatment for at least a year. At first the doses had been fairly small, the first being 40 milligrams. However, it had steadily increased and she was now supposed to stay at a "maintenance level" of 120 milligrams a day. Originally, the clinic had suggested that Justine remain of the drug indefinitely, but she'd be determinedly against it. So, the plan was now to slowly wean her down by 2 milligrams a day each week. The reality was that she would likely be taking the drug for at least a year. Still, there was no denying that the methadone was preferable treatment to the heroin.

As Chase leaned over, and tore a page from his calendar, revealing that it was already September 22nd. That thought sent a weird little jitter through him. It didn't seem all that long ago that he'd had his first dream about Justine that had led him down this increasingly crazy path. He could still clearly remember the argument that has caused him to leave his old church, and his first meeting with Peter and Miranda. It seemed as if all of that had happened only two weeks ago, yet it had been six months since the start of it all. The thought made him smile a little. For twenty-nine years he'd been stumbling through life trying to grow up and suddenly everything was moving far quicker than he could grasp it.

Putting his musings to the back of his mind, Chase grabbed up the bowls of popcorn he'd prepared for a movie, and carried them to the living room, where they had the tv all set up and ready to begin.

"Still can't believe you've never seen Star Wars," Chase said, snatching up the remote. "I mean, did you make a conscious effort to avoid these movies your whole life?"

Justine threw a pillow at him, which he caught, laughing softly.

"Sorry I didn't grow up a nerd like you, playing video games in a basement, Chase."

Chase rolled his eyes and hit play as they sat to watch the movie together. So, for two hours they sat and watch a cultural touchstone together. Honestly, Chase found the entire experience enjoyable. While they both laughed at things like the late seventies haircuts and special effects, she did wind up being engrossed in the story by the end, animatedly asking questions and giving exclamations at the high points of the film. In spite of her usual guarded attitude, Chase could see a small bit of excitement and happiness in her as she watched the film. It has hard to explain why, but it filled him with a small spark of hope.

That thought in turn made him scoff, thinking only, A New Hope.

Finally after the movie ended and bits of popcorn lay scattered all over the carpet, Chase stood up and brushed himself off, preparing to shower and turn in for the evening. As he did so, Justine motioned to him, and he stepped closer, avoiding tripping over a discarded bowl.

"What's up?" he asked, leaning closer.

He felt shock flood through him as he felt Justine's lips on his cheek, and she kissed him softly.

"Thanks Chase… You've done so much for me and I just… thank you, seriously."

Chase smiled softly, trying to resist the urge to whoop with excitement, and nodded.

"You're welcome. Goodnight Justine."

"Goodnight Chase."

And so Chase went to the bathroom, picking his way through Justine's haircare products to locate his own shampoo and soap, and turned the water on. As he went through his usual pattern of finding the millimeter wide location on the knob that kept the water between freezing cold and boiling hot, he let his mind cast over Justine's kiss and her words.

Of course, they'd been growing closer through all this and he was grateful for that. Still, he hadn't imagined that there was ever a chance for that to grow into something romantic. Not that a single kiss on the cheek was an automatic indication of that either, but it could be… couldn't it? He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts under the torrent of water.

Then another thought occurred to him. Should he even have romantic inclinations towards someone like Justine? True, they had chemistry together and she was obviously making an effort to get her life back together, which he whole-heartedly supported him. However, there was no denying that she was no a follower of God, and that she had rather a sorted past in her own right.

Then he came to yet another realization, and it was one he never would've predicted. Somehow, Justine's past didn't bother him. Sure, he wanted to help her get her life right and knew that her past played no small part in that journey, but he wasn't actually bothered or upset by her history. It was as simple as tenses to him.

Justine had been a hooker. She wasn't one anymore though. She had been a heroin user, and while she was still an addict, she was obviously working hard to stop. It wasn't a conscious shift or focus to him. It was a simple matter that what Justine had been mattered to him far less than what she was. She was a beautiful woman making a herculean effort to get in a better place. There was nothing wrong with that. After all, his life hadn't always been so clean-cut either.

And so he allowed himself a piece of hope.