A/N: I know some people who have been having some hard times, so I just want to say that you need to keep Pushing through the Hard Times, like the title suggests. Keep at it, things will get better.

Pushin' Through the Hard Times

Today, in the Park Street church, no music played. The echo of the joyous songs were absent from the building. The rejoicing that had often taken place was nowhere to be found. The prayer, however, was still there.

The sanctuary was filled with people clad in black, all gathered for the same reason. Small talk was made among them and despite the large number of people, the congregation never raised their collective voices above a dull roar and was hardly considered a cacophony.

People of all ages had gathered in respect for the woman who had suddenly lost her life. While she was a single mother, having 8 sons amassed a large family. A few married, introducing new families into the mix, along with grandchildren for which they had a grandmother that loved them dearly.

Sadly, she had gone elsewhere.

One by one, each son arrived. Most were accompanied by wives or girlfriends, but one in particular stood out. The youngest of the son's arrived, but he wasn't accompanied by a woman. His arrogant and narcissistic personality tended to drive people away, making him an annoyance. Both genders had labeled him as an irritating little pest and even his coworkers weren't fond of him.

When news of his mother's passing reached his ears, the boisterous young man broke down. As egotistical as the son was, his mother was the most important person in his life. Through every reject she backed him up and encouraged him to keep trying, telling him that he would find someone special one day.

He certainly was a Mama's boy.

In front of his colleagues, he broke down in tears and while some of the more coldhearted ones paid no attention to him, saying it was just his usual call for attention, the Texan could see the pain he was going through and sympathized with him.

Seeing that the boy was not in a stable mind set to be going off to Boston alone, the man offered to accompany him to the funeral. In truth, he was worried the boy would do something rash and being away from their workplace, he wouldn't come back.

While the boy refused his company at first, with a little convincing and prodding from the Texan, the boy agreed to let him come.

Traveling by truck, the two had ventured across the country from New Mexico to Massachusetts. The trip was long and silent, with neither feeling the need to talk. Slumped in the passenger's seat, the boy felt no need to talk and, for once, kept his thoughts to himself.

It was odd for the Texan not to hear the boy babbling about anything that came to mind, but it was a welcome change. After a few days, however, the Texan started to become concern. He knew it was normal for a person to slip into a depression when someone close to them passed away, but this was affecting the boy more than it should.

No longer was the cheery, loud mouthed young man around, instead, a sad lonely boy took his place. What made the boy himself was no longer there.

Arriving at the church, dressed in their best, the two entered. The Texan was acting his best, but he knew a cheerful disposition would send the wrong message to others. He could immediately feel the atmosphere change, as those around them were in a gloomy state. He tried to force a smile, but all of the people's mentality just forced those around them to have the same mental attitude.

Slumped down, head facing the ground, the Bostonian acknowledged no one. His loving mother, now gone, made him realize no one cared for him. At least, that's what he now believed.

Shying away from family members, he and the Texan walked through the church, with the Bostonian dragging his feet along the way. He made eye contact with no one and kept his head down low whenever they passed someone.

He didn't want to be here, but he knew he had to be.

The time ticked away slowly for the two of them as they met with the other sons of the woman. The eldest of them had greeted them apathetically.

"Hey, Nathan." He said, voice slightly strained.

He simply did a small nod to acknowledge his brother. His Texan friend gave him a slight nudge, urging him to respond. Nathan shifted his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "Hey, Max…"

An awkward silence befell the two of them, with the Texan as a bystander. Neither brother knew what to say. They simply made small gestures with Max coughing and rubbing the back of his neck and Nathan rubbing his shoulder.

"Look man…I know you and Ma were close."

"Yeah…"

"I miss her too."

"Yeah…"

Knowing his brother didn't want to discuss their late mother, Max changed the subject.

"So, who's your friend here?" he asked, gesturing to the Texan.

"He's a co-worker of mine who wanted to come back here with me." Nathan answered.

The Texan held out his hand, "Nice to meet ya. Name's Dell." He warmly stated.

Max took his offer and the two shook hands, a courtesy smile spreading across Max's face.

"So, this one a mercenary to, huh?" he asked Nathan.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess that's what we are."

Nathan slumped back, his head receding almost like a scared turtle. Max could tell his brother was in a state of depression, just like he was, but he knew their bond was closer, and her death affected him more than it did himself.

Stepping forward, Max wrapped his arms around his brother, attempting to give him some form of comfort, but Nathan pushed him away.

"I'm okay," he angrily said.

"Fine, I just thought you might've needed a hug."

"I don't need it!"

The volume of his voice attracted the eyes of others around him. Nathan didn't want the attention, so he just left the room to find a place where he could be alone. Dell followed after him, walking down the empty hallway.

"Scout, hold on a sec."

"Why are you calling me that? We aren't at work." He said, stopping on the side of the hallway.

"Force a' habit."

"Look man, I just wanna be left alone, get it?"

"Son, I understand that, but, y-"

"What part of that do you?! You don't know what I'm going through," he yelled.

Dell was taken aback by the sudden raise of voice, but nonetheless, he stood his ground.

"Boy, you don't know nothing about me!"

"Oh yeah? What could I possibly need to know about some old hard hat like you?!"

The boy was beginning to make his blood boil. He needed to put the disrespectful city boy in his place.

"How 'bout the fact that I've been through the same thing you're going through!"

Their voices were, surprisingly, not attracting any attention. Nobody was looking out of doors or stepping out of rooms to see what all the commotion was about, nor was anyone else raising their voices.

"Yeah, right, and I'm the Spirit of Smissmas," he sarcastically responded.

Nerve snapping, Dell grabbed the boy and shoved him against the wall, lifting his feet above the ground.

"My mother died when I was your age." He said, voice strained and choking on the words.

Memories had been brought back, unpleasant memories. It was an event in his life that he had managed to suppress and ignore for the longest, but upon hearing the news of the boy's mother, he felt it necessary to prevent the same depression from happing to him as it did to himself.

Nathan, shocked, realized his mistake, "Sorry about that…"

"It's too late to feel sorry for me, but I know what you're goin' through. I'm here to help ya." He said, his words genuine.

Nathan was in disbelief. Of the men he was forced to live with for the past few years, never was the Texan the one to be kind to him. While no one really cared for him, Dell had labeled him as an irritating string bean, who did nothing but get on his nerves. This act of kindness surprised him.

"If you wanna help, then go kill the bastard that killed my Ma."

Dell raised an eyebrow. So that's what had happened. A small part of him had been curious as to what caused the woman's death, but he knew it wouldn't be right to ask.

Unfortunately, a part of him forced him to say the truth. Sighing, "Boy, I understand you're all mad at the bastard who killed your mother, but face it, we're killers too."

Anger filled the Scout, and he pushed the Engineer away from him. Dell wasn't expecting such a powerful action, causing him to stumble backwards. He knew his mistake, and mentally kicked himself for it.

"But the guy's we kill come back!" he screamed, tears trickling down his face, "My Ma ain't comin' back!"

His legs buckled and he slid down against the wall. His legs were brought up, face buried into his knee's leaning against the wall. He was like a child trying to escape reality.

Dell looked at the boy, brow furrowed and frowning. For a man with 11 PHD's, he certainly didn't know when it wasn't right to say something. Granted, they were all in hard science, nothing to do with psychology or any social area.

He sat down beside the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. The touch of the glove did nothing to mask the thing metal fingers beneath it. The touch felt soulless, but Nathan knew it meant the opposite.

"She ain't comin' back Engie…"

His words were strained, forced to come to terms with reality. They were said between the gasps that accompanied tears formed by sadness, which fell from his puffy eyes and onto his dress shirt. Even with the lack of color, the droplets darkened the shirt, making a noticeable stain against the pureness.

Dell sighed, "Nathan, we all have those times where nothing seems to be going right. We lose the things we love and it looks like nothin's gonna get any better. Like the whole damn world's against you," he paused, leaning back and placing his hands behind his head, "You can either choose to stay there, or you can choose to get out and move on with life."

Dell had noticed the silence that now filled the hallway. Nathan remained with his head tucked away, not making a sound.

Breaking the silence, Dell stood up and stretched, "I'll give ya some time to think on it," he said, walking away towards the sanctuary.

Nathan sat there, alone with nothing but his thoughts. He knew the man was right, but he didn't know if he wanted to move on. All he wanted was to have his mother back.

Her hugs had always comforted him, and they were the only things that could. Nobody gave out hugs like she had. They were one in a million.

Sniffing, he tried to push the memories back, but they kept coming back. They rattled around in his head, causing him to lose his grip on his mind. Each one hit him like a 90 mile per hour baseball pitch to the face. They hurt and they were hard to ignore.

But, he shouldn't ignore them. They were times of happiness and not something that should be forgotten. He just needed to come to terms with his mother's death. Nathan knew it would be challenging, but there wasn't anything he could accomplish.

He chuckled softly, lifting his head up and leaning back against the wall. He could get through this, he knew he could.

It would be difficult and it'll hurt, but he could move on.

I realize some of this might be confusing, stupid and/or probably makes no sense, but I gave it a shot. Originally had more planned, but it would have dragged on, hence the abrupt ending.