Doctor Strangelove

Chapter Six

Picture is to show what Stephen looks like...gross. When I first saw this picture I was kind of scared because I was like, "Oh...is that what you're gonna look like?" Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I still would love it, but I just don't find beards attractive. *hides behind Stephen* Please don't kill me.

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(Four Months Later)

Stephen was home from the hospital. He wasn't working as a surgeon anymore. He'd been offered a position as a consultant or an assistant, but he'd been too proud to accept it. Rachael had gone on doing her shows, but it had taken a toll. When she wasn't home, Stephen would go out and get drunk to take his mind off of his sorrows. Rachael sighed as she came home yet another night and found Stephen wasn't home. He was going to get himself killed one day.

Rachael stayed up until he came home. He always came home in a rage, swearing about his anger at the world that this had had to happen to him. It scared her, but he never seemed angry at her. He was yelling to her, not at her. There was a difference. This night was no different. Stephen burst into the apartment, shouting and swearing at the world furiously. Rachael got up and approached him carefully.

"Stephen. You need to go to bed," she said gently.

"No, I don't!" Stephen slurred. "I need to be FIXED!"

He banged his fist on the counter with the last word. Rachael jumped back, scared of him. She'd never been scared of Stephen before, not even when they'd been alone together as teenagers. Now she was terrified that he'd hit her in his drunken rage.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered.

"I'm not angry at you," Stephen sighed before hiccuping. "I'm angry at life. You were right, Rachael! This is what I get for basically being Scrooge for the past ten years of my life!"

"Stephen, come on, you need to go to bed," Rachael gently tried to lead Stephen to his bedroom. He pushed her arms off of him. "We can talk about this in the morning."

"NO!" he shouted. Rachael backed away from him again.

"You need to go to bed," she said as firmly as she could, trying not to let her distrust and fear show.

"Fine. Then I'll sleep on the couch," Stephen hiccuped again before flopping down on the couch and curling up. Rachael decided it was best not to argue and covered him with a blanket and scurried to her own room. She locked the door just in case.

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The next morning, Stephen woke up with a splitting headache. He groaned, hating how hangovers felt. He noticed Rachael in the kitchen making her breakfast. He wondered if she would be kind enough to make his if he asked politely.

"Good morning, Rachael," Stephen said, stretching.

"Good morning, Stephen," Rachael replied, looking at him only out of the corners of her eyes.

"Are you alright?" Stephen asked.

"I'm fine, yes," Rachael nodded. "I don't have a show tonight, so I'll be here all day. We can just have a lazy day."

Stephen didn't say anything. He heard Rachael sigh tiredly, but she didn't say anything either. After a few more minutes, Rachael set down a plate in front of him and then sat down next to him on the couch, looking at him as if he was a piece of glass that might break if she handled it to roughly.

"Do you want me to feed this to you or do you want to try eating on your own today?" she asked.

"I'll try eating on my own," Stephen said. "I'm not a child, Rachael."