Title: Colorado Nights

By: D.C. Lakes

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Good Luck Charlie or any of its characters. The poor dears are the property of Disney.

It was a warm Colorado night. The stars were fighting to shine their way through the haze of the city lights. The air was just beginning to lose the heat of the day and take on the scent of the bougainvillea planted around the hospital. For Amy Duncan it was the end of a long shift and she relished each breath of cool scented air as she walked through the parking garage to her sedan. She couldn't wait to get home, even though she knew there would be mess there to clean up, they were her messes, her kids. She had spent half the night patching up a sixteen year old boy who had barely walked away from a drag race. When his mother walked in all she could talk about was what he had done to their car. Amy could only hope she would have reacted differently, would have been thankful that her son has survived instead of worrying about a car. Because another boy hadn't been so lucky, he hadn't walked away. The MRI's looked like he might never walk again if he even woke up at all.

She released one shuddering sigh as she slid behind the driver's seat. She just wanted to get home and see her kids. If they were all healthy and happy she would clean up whatever mess had managed to accumulate while she was gone without complaining. As the lights of the hospital and the city fell away in the rear view mirror she took another deep breath and released it slowly. It meant there was another twenty minutes before she got home. But as the towering sodium lamps gave way to smaller ornamental street lights her tension seeped away. When she finally pulled into the driveway beside Bob's work van the two broken boys in the hospital seemed worlds away, like a half remembered nightmare.

She dropped her purse on the table by the door and closed it behind her locking out the rest of the world. Bob was asleep on the couch, his soft snoring lost in the sound of the television. Charlie sat at his feet watching raptly as a star and a circle danced across the screen. Amy picked her up and kissed her baby girl on the forehead taking a deep breath of her baby scent before setting her back down so she could get back to her show.

Downstairs Teddy was talking to Ivy on video chat. Amy stood in the doorway, not really listening, just watching as her daughter laughed with her friend. She turned and headed towards the kitchen before either of them could notice her standing there. She was surprised to find Gabe sitting at the kitchen table working on his homework. Usually it took her at least fifteen minutes of arguing and cajoling to get him to even open his backpack.

"What did you do?" She asked as she sat down at the table.

"I'm innocent." He protested pushing his school book away with a sigh.

"Why aren't in your room playing?" She asked.

"I think PJ's crying." Gabe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. That would explain it, there's nothing more awkward for a thirteen year old than to catch your big brother actually expressing emotions. "I told Dad, but he said tears were your department."

"Of course he did." She sighed. When PJ was younger, before the rest of the kids had come along, they both dealt with their share of scraped knees and bloody noses. But when he started growing up Bob had started delegating. He would deal with relationship advice, and Amy had to pick up the pieces when the relationships ended. It kind of irritated her that Bob couldn't deal with PJ on an emotional level anymore, but she liked being the one to pick up the pieces. When PJ was brokenhearted and trying to fight back the tears she could see her little boy again, the one who had stolen and owned her heart before she had had to divvy it up amongst four kids.

"I'll go talk to him." She said softly patting Gabe on the back. "Do you remember her name?" She hated to ask, but her oldest son went through girlfriends so quickly that she couldn't keep track. She would have been worried that he was turning into a player, but each failed romance still left him brokenhearted.

"He hasn't been dating anyone lately." Gabe said staring at his half finished homework. "He's just been sleeping a lot." Amy nodded and left the kitchen without another word.

Upstairs she listened outside PJ and Gabe's bedroom door. She could just barely hear the sound of soft sniffling. Easing open the door she walked in and sat down on Gabe's bed. PJ was curled up on his own bed with the blankets pulled up over his head. She sat for a while waiting for him to come out. She had learned a long time ago that it was better to let him come to her on his own than try to draw him out. Finally he pulled back the covers and sat up. It was worse than she had expected. His eyes were red and sore. His hair, which he usually took such great care with, was tussled and messed. She switched beds, sitting down beside him, and wrapped her arm around his waist. Something was definitely wrong in a bad way. Normally he melted into her embrace, dropping his head onto her shoulder and sobbing. And for a moment, just for a moment, he was her little boy again. But instead he sat stiffly staring at the floor.

"PJ, what's wrong, baby." She murmured rubbing her hand over his back. He didn't respond. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything."

"Anything?" She barely heard the word. His voice was small and shredded, so soft that she struggled to understand him.

"Of course, you know that." She said squeezing him against her and shaking her head. "Is it a girl?" The bitter little chuckle caused her breath to catch in her throat. PJ was a happy kid; she had never expected a sound like that to come from him. This was something worse than a broken heart, whatever was bothering him had had time to fester and suppurate.

"It's not a girl. It's never a girl." He murmured finally. His voice had turned cold and hard and she felt tears prick at the back of her own eyes. She never wanted any of her children to feel pain, but PJ was scaring her. "You can't tell Dad. Please, don't tell Dad." And suddenly the brutal edge was gone from his voice and he was her baby again. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder and started sobbing.

"What is it, what don't you want me telling Dad?" She asked brushing her hand over his soft, blonde hair. She was going to kill Bob. For their entire marriage she had played bad cop so her children wouldn't be afraid of their father. She had been so frightened of her own, afraid of his temper. When she met Bob he was so soft and warm, PJ reminded her of the young man she fell in love with in so many ways. But if anything PJ was even warmer and more sensitive than Bob had been. So she had let Bob be the fun parent, the one who brought home toys and rewards for good grades. But somewhere along the way PJ had still picked up fear and she wasn't happy.

"I think…" PJ paused, his voice stolen by a slow, shuddering sob. "I think I'm gay." The world crystallized in that moment. The light took on a hard, sharp glow. And the words hung in the air like a butterfly encased in glass. Amy felt her heart slow to a stop as ice bloomed from the pit of her stomach. Those were practically the last words she heard her brother say. He had whispered them out the window of their fathers Chevy before he pulled away. Later that night he wrapped that Chevy around a tree and didn't walk away. She slipped out of PJ's arms and turned in the bed capturing his face in her hands.

"You don't have to worry about Dad, PJ." She murmured pressing her forehead against his. "We love you no matter what. I love you no matter what."

"Just please don't tell him." His red washed blue eyes pleading. "I don't want him to know yet." Another sob wracked his narrow chest and Amy felt her heart break a little more.

"Okay, it's okay I won't tell him." She agreed wrapping her arms around him. "But you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"No matter how bad it gets, how scared you are, even if it seems like there's no way out. Just come talk to me, don't do anything that you can't take back." The first tear broke loose and coursed down her cheek. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I won't." He promised shaking his head.

"Alright, why don't you come downstairs with me and I'll fix us a cup of tea." PJ's nose curled up and for a moment she could still see through to the giggling blonde that had captivated her attention for two years. "Alright, hot chocolate." She said chuckling. "And I'll tell you about your Uncle James."

Bob could tell there was something going on in the house. When he had woken from his nap and stumbled into the kitchen he found Amy and PJ sitting at the kitchen table, talking and drinking cocoa. That alone was strange enough. PJ had spent most of his time avoiding them since he had turned fourteen and found out parents were un-cool. Even odder, the moment he walked into the room PJ stiffened and looked away from the door. Amy turned in her chair, her eyes flashing dangerously as they landed on him. It wouldn't be the first time he had done something to upset his wife without realizing it, it probably wouldn't be the last, but PJ's reaction was incredibly troubling. Without saying a word his firstborn son stood from the table and darted past him up the stairs.

"What did I do?" He asked crossing to the fridge. He had been married for twenty years, and during two decades of wedded bliss he had come to realize that it was best to find out what he had done and try to fix it before Amy blew up in his face.

"That's what I would like to know." Amy said crossing her arms, glaring at her husband. He paused with his head still stuck in the fridge trying to think. He hadn't exactly expected that particular response and had no idea how to regain his equilibrium. Finally he grabbed a pudding cup out of the fridge and closed it.

"Okay, I give up." He said shaking his head as he walked behind the island to get a spoon. The last time he had done something to hurt PJ's feelings the boy had confronted him and they had worked it out. Whatever it was this time had to be major if his son was avoiding him and his wife had murder in her eyes.

"PJ's afraid of you." Amy said her words coming out clipped and bitter. Bob nearly dropped the spoon he had picked up. It was another curve ball, the last thing at all he expected to hear out of her mouth.

"No he's not." He turned, laughing. "No one is."

"PJ is." Amy insisted, her hands pressed flat against the table. He could see the tips of her fingers pressing against the wood until her nail beds turned white. "I have been a hard ass bitch with the kids all these years so the kids could have a funny, happy dad. You know what I had to deal with growing up; I didn't want our kids to have the issues I have. That's why we didn't spank, that's why we didn't scream, and that's why I was the disciplinarian. But PJ is still afraid of you." Bob sighed and dropped the spoon back in the drawer, took the pudding and put it back in the fridge, if he wanted to sleep in his own bed that night he was going to have to talk her down. Because there was no quicker way to piss Amy Duncan off than to mess with her kids.

"I'm sorry; honey, but I don't know what I did. I've never screamed at the kid, I've never hit him; I haven't given him any reason to be afraid of me. Now what is this all about, did he tell you I scare him?"

"Not in so many words." Amy said sighing, her hands relaxing on the table.

"Then what did he say?"

"I can't tell you." Amy said looking away, unable to meet her husband's eyes. She didn't like keeping things from him, but PJ had made her promise to keep it a secret, and what he needed right now was someone he could trust. She wasn't about to break that trust.

"What? We never keep things from each other." Bob said leaning back in his chair. Irritation and concern battled for dominance on his features.

"PJ trusted me with something, and I have to keep that trust." She said her shoulders sagging. The anger that had been building in her all night flooded away leaving her tired. She had been ready to climb up Bob's back and beat the hell out of him for scaring their son, but now all she wanted to do was go to bed.

"PJ's my son, if there's something wrong I should know." He said crossing his arms across his chest. His words rekindled some of the ebbing fury.

"There is nothing wrong with PJ. NOTHING, do you understand me?" She snapped leaning across the table. Bob's eyes widened and he leaned away throwing up his hand innocently. He had only seen his wife like that a couple of times in his life. The last time had been when a bigger kid had been bullying PJ on the playground. Amy had gone up to the kid's mother, dragged her over to where the boys were, and told her exactly what she would do to her if her son ever picked on PJ again.

"Okay, okay that's not what I meant." He said dropping his hands to his sides. "But if I've done something to upset him I want to know about it."

"I don't even know if you did do anything, Bob." She said scrubbing at her eyes, smearing her eye make up. "Just don't mention this to PJ, okay. And when he comes to talk to you…don't dick it up." She said standing from the table. Bob got up and followed her, dropping his arm around her shoulders as they headed up the stairs. He was still clueless but had managed to avoid sleeping on the couch.

After Amy was sound asleep Bob padded down the stairs to the kitchen. He never had gotten his pudding and his stomach was grumbling irritably. He stopped just inside the door, the refrigerator was open and he could see a pair of pajama bottom and two long, thin feet poking out from under the door. PJ closed the fridge and headed towards the island with the milk carton. He had poured half a glass of milk before he noticed Bob's presence. He looked like a deer in the headlights, his bright blue eyes going wide as the glass slipped out of his hand, shattering against the sink.

The sound of breaking glass broke the spell that had fallen over the kitchen; PJ jumped staring down at the milk covered shards of glass. A moment later PJ gasped and jerked his hand out of the sink, cuddling it to his chest for a moment. Bob crossed to the cabinets, grabbing the first aide kit from under the microwave. Catching PJ's bleeding hand gently; he led him to the table. They sat in silence as Bob cleaned the wound, dabbing it with an iodine swab. PJ bit his lip, wincing as the stinging orange liquid covered the three inch gash in his palm.

"Maybe I should go wake up your mother, this might need stitches." Bob said without glancing up from his son's bleeding hand.

"I don't think it's that deep." PJ murmured, his eyes hidden by his hanging bangs.

"Are you sure? This is your fret hand." Bob asked examining his son. Amy was right, something had definitely changed. PJ sat stiffly. The wrist that Bob was holding nearly trembled.

"I don't feel like going to the ER right now." PJ said quietly, still not looking up from the table. "I'll let her look at it in the morning."

"Okay." Bob sighed, smearing antiseptic ointment on the cut, being careful not to jab at the open wound with his blunt fingers. "What did I do?" He asked finally, as he pressed a gauze pad over PJ's palm. Being open and straight forward had always worked with Amy. PJ was more like him than his mother, but could only hope that it would still work.

"What do you mean?" PJ asked quietly, looking up at Bob for the first time.

"You're mother's going to kill me, she told me not to say anything but…."

"She told you?" PJ shouted, tearing his hand out of Bob's grasp as he spun out of his chair and began pacing the kitchen. "All I asked her was to let me tell you in my own time, and she couldn't even do that." PJ's voice was wavering, on the edge of breaking, and Bob was shocked to see tears streaking his son's face. When PJ began to pound his injured hand against his thigh Bob jumped out of his chair and grabbed him by the shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Whoa, she didn't tell me anything." He said staring into PJ's tear stained face. His eyes were blood shot, the blue nearly seemed to glow against the red background. "All she said was that you were afraid of me." PJ seemed to calm slightly. "I don't know what I did to scare you, PJ, but you have to know I would never hurt you, no matter what." PJ took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"I'm bleeding on my foot." PJ said straining his head to look down at the drops of blood on the top of his foot. Bob stepped back, looking down without releasing PJ's shoulders.

"You knocked your bandage off." Bob said staring at the blood soaked gauze pad lying a few feet away. "I think we need to go to the ER."

"Yeah, okay." PJ said sighing. Bob grabbed another couple of pads out of the kit, ripped one open with his teeth and pressed it to PJ's hand. "Put a little pressure on that." He said looping his arm around PJ's shoulder as they headed towards the garage. They were halfway to Denver General before they spoke again.

"I don't want to push you…" Bob began glancing at PJ out of the corner of his eye. PJ leaned his head against the back of the seat sighing heavily.

"But it's going to bug the crap out of you until you find out why I'm so freaked, right?" He asked his head lolling until he was looking at his father.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"Pull over." PJ sighed, sitting up and looking out the window.

"Really, that bad, huh?" Bob asked as he maneuvered the car onto the narrow shoulder of the road. "You're not flunking out of high school are you?"

"I wish." PJ said laughing mirthlessly. "I can handle an F." They sat in silence for a moment, Bob's hand gripping the steering wheel anxiously, PJ staring into the tree lined darkness behind the guardrail. "I like guys, Dad."

Bob breathed a sigh of relief. His son wasn't on drugs, no one was pregnant, he hadn't been caught shop lifting. All of the horrible things that had been running through his head faded away. PJ was gay. He could deal with gay, gay didn't change anything. PJ was still the same boy he had always been. He actually started laughing. PJ turned in his seat and stared at his father, his face confused and a little frightened.

"What were you so afraid of?" Bob asked after he managed to catch his breath. "I mean worst case scenario."

"Um, worst case scenario? You beating the crap out of me and kicking me out of the house." PJ said looking back out the window. He barely kept from flinching when he felt his father's giant hand land on his shoulder.

"PJ, look at me." PJ turned and looked at his father, taken aback by the hurt look in his eyes. "Do you really think I would beat you?"

"I don't know, it happens to a lot of kids." He said shrugging his shoulders. "I read about them on the internet, they grow up thinking they have this great relationship with their parents, but when they come out things change. They get beat up, or kicked out, or sent to one of those reeducation camps." PJ stopped his face going pale. "I don't care if you kick me out, if you never speak to me again, but please don't send me to one of those camps."

"You're not going to any camp, PJ. I'm not kicking you out of the house. I'm going to take you to the hospital and get you stitched up before your mother wakes up and finds us gone." He said, shaking his head as he pulled back onto the road. "I can't believe you thought I'd hit you."

"I'm sorry." PJ said hanging his head again.

"No, I should be sorry. Sometime when you were growing up I did something wrong. I don't know what; you probably don't even know what. But at some point I made you think that I could actually bring myself to do you harm and I am sorry." They rode in silence for a while, questions percolating in Bob's brain until they finally started to trickle out of his mouth. "So have you…"

"I'm still a virgin, Dad, boys and girls." PJ said laughing quietly.

"Oh, okay, are you…"

"Nope, I just figured this out, haven't really had time to go out and pick up a boyfriend."

"You're doing that whole creepy psychic thing your mom does." Bob said smirking as he glanced at his son.

"Not really, I came up with a list of questions I might have to answer when I started coming out to people. In case you're wondering I'm not sure if I'm a pitcher or catcher yet." It took a moment for Bob to understand what PJ was talking about; when he did he actually blushed.

"I wasn't going to ask that question." He said shaking his head. "You know, I'm going to do my best, but I'm not sure what to do with all of this. I mean I love you no matter what; I'm not disappointed in you. But I have no idea how to raise a gay kid. I don't really feel qualified to give relationship advice anymore. And it would be nice if you gave me a while before we got into talking about the whole bedroom aspect."

"Deal." PJ nodded. By then they had reached the hospital. Bob parked the van in the ER parking lot and led PJ to the entrance. It wasn't until they were crossing the parking lot that they realized that neither of them was wearing shoes. The nurse behind the front desk looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized the blonde man and boy.

"PJ, what happened?" She asked coming around the counter. He held up his hand, the gauze was soaked through again, but it seemed to be slowing. "Ouch that looks like a nasty cut, does it hurt?" She asked gently teasing the gauze away from the gash.

"Not too bad." PJ said shrugging.

"Well we've been kind of busy tonight, but things just started to calm down. Just fill out this paperwork," she said reaching across the counter to grab a clip board. "And we'll get you in to see a doctor."

Amy woke up to an empty bed. She stretched her arm out across the mattress, feeling cool sheets beneath her skin. Sighing she climbed out of the bed and headed downstairs. Even as she had fallen asleep she had felt Bob lying beside her, still awake. Normally he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and she drifted to sleep not long after he started snoring. She wasn't exactly surprised to wake up and find him gone.

She slowed as she walked into the kitchen. The family's supped up first aide kit was sitting open on the kitchen table. Her heart skipped a beat then stopped as she walked around the table and found the blood soaked gauze pad lying on the kitchen floor surrounded by drops of blood. Visions of PJ drawing a knife across his wrists flashed through her mind. She could almost see the blood dripping from the tips of his fingers as he wondered listlessly around the kitchen waiting for the last of his life to trickle away.

She didn't notice the broken glass in the sink or the spilled milk on the floor. Instead she headed to the stairs that lead into the basement. She tripped down the wooden stairs two at a time, rushing into Teddy's bedroom without knocking and shook her daughter awake. Teddy groaned but sat up staring at her mother through sleep blurred eyes.

"What's wrong?" She asked as she noticed the panic stricken look on her face.

"I think PJ's hurt; I need you to watch Gabe and Charlie while I go look for him." She said prancing with impatience as she explained.

"What? Where is he?" Teddy asked scrubbing sleepily at her eyes.

"I don't know." Amy's voice broke into a sob as she headed back towards the stairs. Just as she hit the top step she heard her cell phone ringing from the living room. She nearly ignored it, but at the last moment she thought that it might be PJ calling, scared and alone, wanting her help. She trotted into the living room and pawed through her purse until she found her phone.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded weak and shaky.

"He's okay, Amy." It took her a moment to recognize her friend Jill's voice.

"Oh, thank God." Amy murmured, releasing a shuddering sigh as the first tears managed to break loose and slide down her face.

"The minute I saw those boys I knew you had to be freaking out." Jill said her voice warm with affection.

"What happened?" Amy asked brushing the back of one shaking hand across her face.

"PJ dropped a glass in the sink and cut himself trying to clean it up. Bob did a pretty job cleaning it up and staunching the bleeding. It took four stitches to close it up, Doctor Sanderson says he might have some problems using the hand for a couple of weeks but he didn't slice into the muscle."

"Thank god." Amy repeated, she meant it more than anything she had ever said in her life. It was just an accident, if she'd bothered to look in the sink she would have seen the broken glass; PJ hadn't tried to kill himself. "Is he okay? PJ really doesn't like needles."

"Bob was standing there holding his hand the whole time, he got kind of pale but he's okay."

"Could you put one of them on the phone please?"

"Yeah, PJ's still kind of loopy, here's Bob." She heard the soft sounds of movement as the phone was passed, then Bob's voice.

"Hi, honey." He said sounding exhausted.

"You're both dead when you get home for not waking me up." She said her grimace cracking into a smile before slipping back.

"You'll have to wait a while; the doctor wants to wait until PJ's color improves before I can bring him home." Bob said, smiling. "He told me on the ride to the hospital." He added as an afterthought.

"I thought he did it on purpose, Bob. I thought he was going to be like James." She said barely biting back a sob as fresh, hot tears started flowing.

"I walked into the kitchen and scared him, baby. He dropped the glass and cut himself trying to clean it up. He's not going to be like James. James didn't have parents who loved him like we love our kids. He didn't have a mother who would kill to protect him." He said smiling again. "PJ wants to talk to you." She heard the sound of the phone passing again then heard PJ's breathing.

"Hey, baby." She whispered her throat tight with more tears.

"I'm sorry I scared you." PJ's voice sounded as fragile as her own, she could almost see his bloodless face.

"It's not your fault, you promised me you wouldn't do anything stupid, I should have had more faith in you instead of freaking out. How'd things go with your dad?" She asked swiping at the tears under her eyes with her thumb.

"He was great. Um, the doctor's back. I should probably let you go." PJ said quickly.

"It's me again." Jill's voice came back on the line.

"Is there anyway you can work me out of the schedule tomorrow?" Amy asked wincing. She knew it would be a pain in the ass to rearrange the schedule, but she wanted to stay home the next day. There was no way she was letting PJ go to school; he wouldn't be able to do any work with his hand anyway. She just wanted to spend some time with her son.

"I wouldn't do this shit for anyone but you, Duncan." Jill said tsking wearily.

"I owe you one, big time."

"You know you do. Bob just signed the release papers the boys should be home in a little while."

"Thanks, Jill." Amy said brushing her bangs out of her face.

"No problem, I've got to get off of here and start untangling the Gordian knot." Amy hit the end button and turned around to find Teddy standing in the kitchen door.

"Did you find him?"

"Yeah, he's okay. Dad's bringing him back from the hospital right now." She said smiling tiredly.

"What did you mean that you thought PJ was going to be like Uncle James?" Teddy asked, wrapping her arms around herself. "Uncle James killed himself, why would PJ kill himself?" Amy slipped her phone back into her purse, trying to gather her thoughts.

"I think that's something you need to talk to PJ about. But you should go back to bed, you have school tomorrow." She said praying silently that Teddy wouldn't push the issue.

"Yeah, like I'm going to be able to sleep now." Teddy said frowning.

"Teddy, honey, PJ just had to have four stitches. You know how much he hates needles. When he gets home I'm going to get him into bed. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"Why can't you just tell me?" Teddy asked her voice rising in frustration.

"Because it wouldn't be right. PJ will tell you when he's ready. And I don't want you ambushing him like your father did; I don't think he can handle another trip to the emergency room."

"He's going to be okay?" Teddy asked, absently rubbing her arms.

"Yeah, he's going to be fine." Amy nodded.

"Alright, I'll go back to bed." Teddy yawned and turned back into the kitchen. A little while later Amy heard her footsteps receding down the stairs. She sat down feeling the adrenaline seeping out of her system, leaving her feeling more tired than when she had lay down to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later there was a scraping knock on the front door. Amy walked over and peeked through the window. Bob was standing on the front porch with PJ's sleeping form cradled against his chest. She opened the door and stepped back to let them in.

"He's going to have to spend the night on the couch, even if I could wake him up he'd be too groggy to make it up the stairs and I can't carry him any farther." Bob said stumbling over the threshold.

"Codeine?" Amy asked as she went over to rearrange the cushions on the couch.

"Yeah, he tried to do the whole stoic teenager thing, but Jill bullied him into it." Bob said awkwardly depositing his son on the couch. PJ bounced slightly but didn't wake as he curled into the back of the couch, burying his face against the soft fabric.

"So you two talked?"

"Yeah, can you believe he actually thought I might beat him up?" He asked staring down at his sleeping boy. He remembered changing diapers, giving piggy back rides; he could never hurt PJ no matter what he did.

"You're a big man, Bob, people who don't know you think you're scary. And he's probably been through a lot in the past few weeks." She said leaning against his side.

"Yeah, I know. I just never want to see that look in his eye again. When I walked into the kitchen I thought he was going to pass out."

"So you're really okay with this?" She asked craning her neck to look into his face.

"Heh, things were a little touch and go when he started talking about baseball, but yeah. He's my kid; nothing he could have told me would have made me stop caring about him. I was just relieved he wasn't popping pills and that he hadn't knocked up some girl."

"Well, we won't have to worry about that one until Gabe's older." She actually managed a tired laugh.

"I don't even want to think about that tonight." Bob said yawning loudly. "Let's go to bed." Amy nodded, wrapping her arm around his waist as they headed up the stairs.

A/N: This just started rolling out one night. I was so amazed by the language and flow I didn't know what to do with it for a long time. I decided to finish it tonight.

R/N: So I'm finally getting around to revising this thing. When I finish a chapter I'm just so excited to get it posted so you guys can read it I don't sweat the proofreading. If there are any mistakes left in this copy it's because I didn't catch them. That's the big difference between a Creative Writing Major and an English Major. I'll be working on the rest of the chapters throughout the next few nights, implementing some helpful suggestions from reviewers. As always please review.