Authors Notes: Well, it's a little in-betweener while I polish up the newest Chapter to Altered State. A cheap rip-off of the X-files Hentai, "Smoking", yes, but, hey, it's not *too* similar- it completely forks off in a different direction in the end. A little explanation? The Lita references you'll see are a side reference to my and the Fire Goddess Raye's series, Altered State, in which Chad and Lita are dating. This story was actually intended to be part of the series, but Peter's character was eliminated entirely, and, not wanting to ruin a potentially decent story, we made it into its own. Consider this an alternate universe fic on an alternate universe fic, if you must. A fanfic of a fanfic. In fact, I highly recommend reading the "Altered State" series before this. It's not 100% necessary, as all you need to know is Lita and Chad are dating in it, but, it could help. As for Peter- he's just a filler character. Picture him, if you must, as the photographer from the early DIC dubs- the one who was turned into a monster by Nephlite, and took pictures of everyone. That would be easiest. Rating: PG-13 for a bad language and a few ennuendoes. ---------- Cigarette. Mercury Blue. ---------- Chad needed a cigarette. And he didn’t even smoke, strangely enough. Not that he didn’t used to. Back in his toasted rock-star days, before he’d kicked the habit four years ago, smoking was something he did on a regular basis. It was a calming influence amongst the turmoils of rejection that came with his career. Rejection he was forced to get used to. Yeah, he dealt with rejection a lot. First his parents- rich bastards. They were never there for him. They’d sooner run to Maui for business then stick around for their only son’s birthday. He doubted they’d even noticed he was gone. Yeah, that rejection was harsh, but he’d grown accustomed to it soon enough. He’d had to. Oh, then there were the agents, of course. Couldn’t forget about them, could he? How they’d led him to one bad gig after another, tempting him with dreams of fame, women, fortune- of course, he had plenty of money at home, but that wasn’t the point. It was his parents’ money. His parents’ mansion. His parents’ Ferrari TR512 Tessarossa parked in the driveway- God how he’d loved that car. No, those agents never delivered. They had Chad out there, pouring his heart out in bars, and pool halls to alcoholics and junkies who were always so out of their head they never heard a word he sang. Not that it mattered. It was only a matter of time before Chad figured out his songs were crap. They had no drive, no inspiration behind them. He had nothing in his life worthy of singing about- until he met Raye. Raye. His one true love and the biggest rejection of his life. Just thinking about her made the craving for a cigarette stronger. Thinking about how many times he’d asked her out, mooned over her, just to have her all but laugh in his face. Yeah, that was the toughest rejection he had to deal with. But then, Peter wouldn’t know about rejection, would he? Peter. What the Hell kind of a name was that? Peet-er, Petey-boy. Christ, it reminded him of the guys at a gig he played once. A bunch of high-class mama’s boys in their starched white shirts and polo sweaters, who drank spiked fucking Shirley Temples and swayed to his music patronizingly while they stared at him with pity behind their drunken frat-boy eyes. Guys with names like 'Chip', or 'Hoit'. Or 'Peter'. The ones who stared down at him, laughed at him, and made him feel like an asshole. An asshole. Yeah, Chad sure felt like one of those at that moment, because Peter was out with Raye that night. The bastard. Sure, Raye claimed that Peter was just and old friend, and claimed they would only be going out for coffee, because he allegedly would only be down for a while, and they had some catching up to do. So, that meant Chad would be left alone, to eat cold pizza and watch old movies on the even older black and white television. All while the spoiled Shinto princess made nicey-nice with *Peter*. Well, screw catching up. Screw old movies, and cold pizza... and screw him. << Just as long as she doesn’t.>> he thought bitterly. << Oh God... did I just think that? I need a cigarette. >> He grabbed the ring of car keys that lay on the countertop, barely hearing the sound the metal made against the Formica surface. With a sigh, he sat down on one of the four barstools that ran along the side of the counter, and rested his chin in his right hand, dangling the keys in the fingertips of his left. His eyes followed the glinting metal as the keys jingled against one another in the silence of the kitchen. The temptation was so great, so thick on his mind. <> A pang of guilt struck him suddenly as he thought of the girl he'd been seeing. She was so into him. In love, even. Maybe. And here he was, thinking about another woman. He was a pig. A complete pig. Oh, but it was Raye. *His* Raye. God, he wanted her. And she was making it so hard for him... It was dark already, and the moonlight spread itself like a blue blanket of light over the kitchen floor. Chad hadn’t even noticed until then how dark it had gotten. It seemed the very room mocked him. The shadows were entwined bodies. The reflection of the moon in the refrigerator was naked skin, her skin. Everything took on a warped significance to fit his image of her. It was driving him mad. That was it. He couldn’t spend another minute in there, surrounded by the demons of his mind. He needed a cigarette, and he was going to get one. Striding to the closet at the end of the hall, Chad pulled out his shoes and a worn blue windbreaker, tugging them on hurriedly as he opened the front door, and locked it behind him. Taking the cement stairs two at a time, he walked down the street, and headed to the parking garage he kept his car. Within minutes he made it to the spot where his dark blue Tempo was parked, fitting the key into the awaiting slot, and sliding into the deep bucket seat of the driver's side. The engine started with a satisfying roar, and he pulled out of his space, out of the garage, and onto the nearby highway. Lights flickered before his face. Orange. Red. White. Blue. Trucks and cars roared by him. He could hear a siren in the distance. Finally, the glowing green sign of a 7-Eleven lit up his car, and Chad pulled into the parking lot, locking the car before walking into the brightly lit convenience store. Chad asked the clerk for a pack of Marlboros, tapping the keys impatiently on the counter as she went to retrieve them. He looked around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a head of long black hair, and wondered idly if it was her. But no, there was no way. She was with Pe-ter. The clerk's voice brought him back, and he shook his head roughly when she asked him if he wanted them filtered. No. He needed all the nicotine he could get. Fumbling in his pockets for change, he paid for the cigarettes quickly, and walked out of the store, leaning against the coarse red bricks of the building to unwrap the package. Quickly, he peeled away the clear film, and tore away the green tape, freeing one of the white tubes from its papery coffin. He needed this. This was all there was for him. Suddenly, Chad felt guilty. Small, and helpless, like a little child. He remembered all too well the challenge, the impossibility he had felt years before when he'd tried to quit, and a part of his subconscious chided him for succumbing to the temptation. The pressure. He glanced around him. Then, he thought of Raye. Naked, writhing on a bed of satin while *Pe-ter* touched her. He thought of her screaming that loser's name while he kicked himself over a cigarette. He thought of losing her. Slowly, he pulled a book of matches out of his pocket, and read the cover. Madame Moonbeam's Psychic readings. He wondered what they would say about his chances with her. Slim to none, he'd bet. In frustration, he snapped the center match out of its bed, and scraped its head against the rough sulfur pad on the back. He lit the cigarette. He inhaled. Chad felt the dark ribbons of smoke curl inside him; wrap around his lungs, comforting him like a long lost friend. He felt a thousand pins and needles run up his spine. He felt the slight burning as the smoke found it's home in every crevice of his body. He exhaled. This was good. This was very good. If he couldn't have his Raye, he could have his cigarettes. They could satisfy him. That's all that mattered. He sighed. He took another puff. He looked at his shoe, and scuffed some dirt off the toe. He looked up again. Into her eyes. She was there. She was looking at him. She was repulsed. Oh. God. "What are you doing?". Christ, even when she was angry with him, she sounded beautiful. "Chad, are you smoking?". Inhale. Exhale. Think of something to say. "What's it to you?". Stupid. "What do you mean 'What's it to me?'. What's wrong with you?". Those eyes. So dark, they were almost black. They pierced him. She wasn't supposed to be there. She was supposed to be with Pe-ter, performing the physical act of love while he wallowed in his own self-pity, smoking his little cigarette, sad, pathetic and alone. "Nothing's wrong with me. I just needed a cigarette. I needed time to think. About... everything,". Inhale, exhale. Be cool. Don't act like you care. "Where's your date?". "We ended it early," Raye said, pushing it away like it was no big deal. "I came here to grab some nachos, and here you are, smoking! What's up?". He ignored her. Inhale. Exhale. "Why'd you split early? What happened?". Raye sighed. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I dunno. I wasn't having a good time,". She sat down on the edge of the sidewalk. "Why not?". He sat beside her. "You,". She sighed, and plucked cigarette from between his fingers. "I couldn't stop thinking about you,". She inhaled, breathing in the murky greysmoke. "What are you talking about?". He squinted at her from behind the cloud ofsmoke that rose between them. "What do you mean?". She studied her nails between the cigarette she held. She was quiet. "Chad, what's with you lately? I mean, you've been acting strange- stranger than you ever have in the three years I've known you. You're my best friend, Chad. I'm worried about you,". He didn't look at her. He looked at her hands, watched the cherry burn its way closer and closer to the end. Her friend. Her best friend. If only she knew. "You wouldn't understand, Raye,". Bitterness dripped from his words like blood. He watched in resentment as her red lips covered the end of the cigarette, envying it. "Trust me,". "What wouldn't I understand? Chad, please. Tell me,". "Tell you what?". He nearly screamed. "How much I love you? How much I can't get you out of every waking thought? How whenever you walk into a room, my heart races, and my blood boils? Raye, you're all I think about! And when I see you with someone like him, all I want to do is scream and scream,". He looked at the matchbook again, studying the embossed crystal ball, the gold lettering reading, 'Madame Moonbeam's Psychic Readings'. He wondered if she'd seen it coming. He hadn't. He regretted his words. "Raye, I'm sorry,". She was silent. It scared him more than anything she could have said. She just stared at the cigarette she held, her almost-black eyes hidden beneath a mass of black hair. Her lower lip trembled. "Chad, I- I don't know how to respond to that,". Her eyes were still on the little white tube, nearly burned to the end. It had become something entirely different to her suddenly. A symbol of her best friend's sudden change. An omen. "You mean more to me than you know. I love you, too. A lot. I've kept it hidden so long, though. I've been afraid to tell you- there've been so many barriers,". A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away, ashes falling into her lap at the movement. "Namely, Lita,". Lita. The woman down the hall. The girl who's attentions Chad had entertained in his wait for his true love. The one who meant nothing to him. He turned to face her, gazing into her eyes. He needed her to believe him, more than anything. "She means nothing to me,". His voice was quiet. Barely a whisper. "Please, Raye. Give me a chance. Let me try and keep you happy. I know I can. Please,". "All right. All right,". She smiled nervously, unused to the new relationship they had only then established. "We'll try,". Chad reached across his lap, and cradled her face in his hand, moving his lips to brush uncertainly against hers. He could taste the tobacco on both of their mouths. Dirty. Disgusting. He couldn't even believe he'd been willing to start again. This was so much better. They pulled away. "Let's go home, Chad," Raye said finally. "We've got a lot to talk about,". "Yes, we do,". Raye looked down again at the cigarette she held, burned nearly to the end. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her hand, and flicked it away. In the darkness, the cherry spiraled, exploding in a shower of sparks as it hit the ground. "I think it's time we got out of this habit, don't you?". She stood up, and grabbed his hand, helping him up. "Yeah. I do,". Cautiously, he put his hand around her waist, pulling her close to him when she didn't resist. Then, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out the nearly-full package of cigarettes. Guiding her to their cars, he paused. She looked at him. She smiled. And he tossed the package into the garbage can. ---------- Well, that's it. That's all. No soup for you *gg*. Finis. Comments, questions, etc., can be sent to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com. Flames will be burnt with a smile. Compliments will get you everywhere. TTFN, Merc.