The first thing Roy did when he got home was snort two lines of coke. He didn't know what actually compelled him to do it this time. It made him feel rich at the library, which ultimately caused his downfall, literally...but this time he snorted it off the book which now held the cheque from the movie studio.

The powder dripped down the back of his throat and he washed it down with a shot of whiskey. His mouth almost felt like his legs. An odd feeling.

Soon Roy was as high as a kite. It didn't take much to get him up there. He felt euphoric, he felt...giddy? He anxiously tapped his fingers together, contemplating on what to do next, if he was going anywhere, or if anything needed to be done. It was intense. It was intoxicating. It was satisfying.

Roy studied himself in the mirror. His pupils were dilated. He looked out the window onto the busy street below. People living lives. Roy was bored. And somewhat sad but joyous.

And he felt so confident that he called that awful diner up and told Brent he'd definitely be starting Monday morning...doing whatever it was they wanted him to do. And it made MacKenzie happy, so why not? Stupid coke, Roy would later complain.

Roy went so far as to go back to the diner before MacKenzie was supposed to be home just to talk to Brent about acquiring more drugs! And Brent was happy to oblige of course for a few dollars.

As Roy was heading back to his car, a pair of arms wrapped around him. He instinctively flinched but relaxed when the figure danced in front of him into view.

"What are you doing here?" MacKenzie kissed Roy on the cheek.

She was dressed in a pink blouse and satin cream skirt with ruffles. It matched her pale rose lipstick, and she looked quite feminine. She had come out of the bakery, presumably from the office.

"I should ask you the same thing," Roy said as MacKenzie opened the door for him. He hated it but she did it naturally.

"Well I was just discussing with Peaches an obligation this weekend."

"Oh?"

"I'm assuming you're taking the job here," she grinned.

"Just talked to that guy about it," Roy nodded.

Not necessarily a lie...

Roy headed over to his car and MacKenzie sat on the hood. She swung her legs back and forth, still grinning, chewing gum. So carefree and wild...

"Peaches and Holger are getting out of LA this weekend...something about rekindling their marriage."

She's cheating on him with Sinclair but whatever.

"They need me to say there overnight all weekend with the kids. Peaches said she'd be more than happy to let you come with me!"

"I hate kids," Roy mumbled and began to light a cigarette.

"No but Roy they live in a mansion...daughters will be playing most of the time anyway and go to bed early...I mean, look that entire mansion all to ourselves. It would be nice, wouldn't it?"

She hopped off the hood of the car and got down to Roy's level. He hated when other people did this; it made him feel like he was being talked down to like a child. He was a grown-ass 6'5 man. But something about MacKenzie putting her hands on his legs and looking into his eyes before a long kiss was almost comforting. No, it wasn't almost, it was definitely a comfort.

People looked at them when they were together. They did now, but probably because she was tongue kissing him in broad daylight Los Angeles. And of course, She was beautiful, tall, glowing and standing, and the man she was holding hands with was in a wheelchair.

Roy had still not gotten used to glances from strangers, because somehow disabled people didn't frequent public places to them? Was it such a shock that he was a person living his life? What was so shocking about that? Why did people stare?

Roy was slowly beginning to accept his physical limitations, and he believed he had passed the stages of grief. But still, he envied guys walking with their girlfriends, running to catch the bus, being able to open doors. Doors were the worst. Most were heavy and there was a way where he'd swing it open and then try to get in before it closed, but it usually just made him look like a clumsy idiot and always some patronizing citizen wanting to feel good about themselves by doing their good deed for the day would end up helping him and awkwardly attempt to push him inside. Dear god, when strangers thought they had a right to push him he wanted to scream! No, they didn't have the right. He wasn't property, he wasn't an object like they way they treated him in the hospital. He wasn't his wheelchair.

He didn't want to feel sorry for himself but a part of him still did. Or more the less, he was angry at himself still for his mistake. He still loathed his body, he was still ashamed of his disability, but MacKenzie somehow made him feel a little more normal. And he was grateful for that.

He knew he would never be normal. Even though he dwelled on the slim chance of himself regaining full use of his legs. He actually thought of it constantly, because he was living it. Every morning when he pulled himself into his wheelchair, put on his pants, took a piss, got into his car; which getting into his car probably took at least five minutes.

It wasn't normal. He didn't like it, he didn't want it. But he was still living. And that was worth something, right?

Roy would have liked to think that whenever his legs would spasm unexpectedly or jerk that it meant somehow it was a sign that things were coming back. Roy would chuckle to himself when he had first thought sex was curing his paraplegia months earlier, when he and MacKenzie fucked for the first time.

He'd imagine himself kicking his legs out but still there was a wall, a barrier, concrete holding him down. It didn't matter how much he willed it, will power would never be enough. And sex wouldn't help either.

And Roy knew that one year check up with Dr. Sharpe was slowly approaching. A year since the accident. And he didn't know what to expect.

And he agreed to accompany MacKenzie to the Fritzges mansion that coming weekend, before staring his shift at the diner Monday. He hoped it would distract him from these thoughts that plagued him, the sudden need to use more coke despite that he had only consumed a small amount.

Even though Roy didn't want to admit it, he was most afraid of people at the diner staring at him. It was so stupid! When he was at the library behind the desk no one could really see his wheelchair unless he got to go grab something, and he was okay with that for the most part. And if Peaches had him locked in that office filled with rats he would have been fine with that too. But he did recall her mentioning he'd someday be in the bakery, and he was mortified his body would fuck it up for him, or that he simply just couldn't handle it, or his leg would start spasming and he'd drop something in front of someone. It was a fear, and he would've rather died than experience a snarky comment from some customer thinking they know everything about the disabled.

But the coke made him confident, even confident enough to try to stand in the library before royally fucking up.

And even when MacKenzie was in the shower that night, he couldn't help but snort another line, and got his knees to lock before making the mistake of trying to walk to the door and his legs collapsing under him.

But he giggled to himself, because he knew how stupid it was but was somehow still satisfied with the results. He felt like he could climb a mountain.

He felt like he was normal.