give hugs, not drugs

His family's unspoken pleas echoed around in his mind and he found himself wondering if he really could stay, on Earth, and resume a somewhat normal life.

Probably not.

Did it matter?

Not particularly.

"Well, why not?" Harvey asked, arms crossed against his chest as he leaned into a decaying brick wall. The lighting was bad, but he could still see that Harvey was bored, annoyed. "As long as I've been here," he taps his forehead, "You've had a few recurring themes circling around. Aeryn--although that's faded recently--Earth, wormholes, Scorpius---quite frankly, you've thought about this too frelling much."

"Sorry you're bored, Harv," he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his eyes downcast. He wasn't in the mood, but he knew he needed to sort this out. And as bad as it sounded, Harvey was the only candidate he felt comfortable rationalizing this out with. Which scared him a little.

A frighteningly ugly grin lit up Harvey's leather clad face. "You like me! You really like me!"

He raised his eyebrows. "If you break out into song, this is over before it starts," he warned. He was anxious to get this over with. He waited impatiently for a few seconds, and then snapped, "Well?"

"Well what?"

Harvey could be so dull sometimes.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, "I'm smarter than you are! I've got both yours and Scorpius's knowledge. Booyah."

"Just get it over with already."

"So," Harvey rested his head against the wall, bringing his hand to trace that *thing* in his chin. He never understood that--the suit, yea, he needed it so he didn't melt (or whatever), but the chin support was a little unecessary. It reminded him of one of Olivia's boyfriends during her rebellious phase...man had he wanted to rip that thing out--

"Hello? You ask my advice, and you're not even listening?" Harvey was pouting, he realized, after a moments confusion at the strange face he was making. "Maybe I won't tell you now," he sniffed, trying to look offended.

"Fine," he retorted, "I'll go talk to D'Argo." He made as if to leave, but Harvey jumped in front of him, laughing nervously.

"Hey! I was just kidding! No need to be such a grump, John."

"Are you going to start or do I need to get a cow prod?"

Returning to his former position against the brick, Harvery withdrew a bright pink plastic bubble pipe from his pocket and blew on it thoughtfully, bubbles filling the air around his head. "Just so you're aware (cause most of the time you're not), you're worried about your judgement, which is why you're seeking my counsel in the first place."

He scowled. "I'm not worried about my judgment."

More bubbles emerged. "Don't lie---you are. You tried pot once with DK, you know what it feels like when your decisions are influenced. You don't trust yourself because of that lakka."

He chewed on his thumb for a few seconds, searching for the flaw in the statement. The lakka helped him move on, helped with the gnawing pain in his stomach, but he couldn't get all those damn commercials out of his head telling him how wrong it was to use narcotics. Not that lakka was a narcotic, perse, but snorting stuff up your nose was still snorting stuff up your nose, no matter what you called it.

"Now--" Harvey continued, "As for your original question, the lakka issue applies as well. If you stay, what happens when the goods run out? You'll drown in your pain and misery, and we'll both be back on that damn beach again--"

"I am NOT dependant on her!" he yelled, glaring murderously at the bubble blowing hybrid. The outburst didn't phase him though, and he pushed off from the wall.

"You only think you aren't," Harvey smirked, crossing the distance between them. "Just wait until the pain returns..."

He pushed Harvey back. "It ain't comin back, Harv."

"So you want to be here then." They were behind his highschool gym, Harvey donned in the typical druggie outfit of the eighties, and he was back in the pair of jeans that he wore for nearly three years straight, until one morning they were missing. He didnt talk to his mom for nearly a week---

"John! Pay attention. I swear that dren gives you ADD." More glaring and unspoken threats, and Harvey resumed his speech. "If you wanted to be a druggie, you should have done it here, when it was beneficial to your reputation, but now it just makes you appear weak."

"When did my mind turn into a frelling advertisement for DARE?" he asked, smoothing the jeans down his legs. He missed these things...

"Would you stop with the pants and listen?"

He looked up, past the clone, to see a school poster (butcher paper and masking tape), probably made by one of those annoying cheerleaders--except---

"Give hugs, not drugs," he read, and looked up at Harvey. "You're kidding, right?" He blanched at Harvey's black toothed smile. "I am *NOT* hugging you. Besides, this is supposed to be about why I don't care about staying, not the frelling lakka."

"But it *is*, don't you see? You don't care about anything--at least, not with the same passion you used to. You're changing, John. And you don't like it."

He ignored the clone's surprisingly wise words and turned back to the poster. A cheerleader was there, ripping the masking tape from the wall and folding the paper into a nearby trashcan, which was probably littered with burned up joints. When she turned around, he gasped. And then he hit himself for being surprised. It was *his* mind, afterall.

"Do you really care anymore, John?" Aeryn asked, her long legs exposed by the very short shirt.

He honestly couldn't say.

That scared him more than the thought of hugging Scorpius.