He had to walk away. Hank had to. Couldn't stand looking into those baby blues and seeing his own wide-eyed browns reflecting back at him. Made him almost physically ill...and that was saying something.

Hank didn't necessarily mean to get into such a heated almost argument with his baby brother, really, he didn't. It's just that, well, Evan was acting like a fucking idiot – like he didn't graduate MIT with honors.

"At some point, you're going to have to forgive him."

The doctor had to bite back the frustrated half-scream that threatened to rip through his throat at that comment. As fucking if. It's like Evan didn't get it... or didn't want to.

But here's the thing; Evan doesn't know exactly why Hank won't forgive Eddie Lawson. Hank doubts he ever will. Sure, the guy walked out of the brothers' lives just as their mother was dieing, and that's horrible enough in itself. And, yeah, Eddie did cause HankMed to drown in the financial shitter for a good week. These are the things that most people, Evan included, assume to be the reason for Hank's obvious abhorrence towards the older man.

Most people, Evan included, don't know how wrong they are.

It happened when Hank was younger – too young to understand the reason, but old enough to understand the wrongness of the situation. Evan was seven at the time, almost eight, starry-eyed and completely naïve, trusting his father with without a hint of doubt. Why would he? The big, bad, yet kind superhero of a man had never given a reason for mistrust before; and that was reason enough in the much, much younger Evan's mind frame to go through the motions.

Hank didn't mean to, honestly, he didn't, but, now that he thinks about it, he's more than damned glad he did. He'd woken up, sleepy-eyed and groggy, his throat demanding some sort of liquid and his bladder practically begging for release. Bathroom first, he'd decided, because, well, as much as he hated to admit it at the time, pissing himself was a definitely possibility.

It was on his dangerous journey through the darkened halls to the bathroom when Hank heard something just plain weird coming from his little brother's bedroom. Evan had been known to have these spontaneous nightmares or phobias about ridiculous things since he started sleeping in his own room, even before their mother got sick, so Hank, being the protective, responsible brother that he was, decided to investigate.

What he heard would be the inevitable reason for his absolute hatred towards their father.

There were these odd, muffled words coming from a gravely, baritone voice, coupled with muted mumbles and whimpers that had to have belonged to Evan. As Hank stepped further towards his brother's room, he could hear some things with a more definitive fluctuation. Actual words. Words like good, and don't tell, and secret, pinky promise? Shit that made his gut seize up even in the present day.

Looking down, young Hank couldn't see any light slipping through the cracks of the door frame, so he chanced pressing his ear against the wood work, only to hear Evan sniffle as if he were wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt like he usually did. Are you mad at me?

No, you did good, Super Evan. Real good.

As Eddie's voice grew closer to the door, Hank was caught between staying to see just what the fuck had happened, or running away to evade a reprimand for eaves dropping. And, really, if Evan was getting scolded for doing something bad, then that was on him, and Hank really didn't need to stick around for it, but there was something just niggling at the back of his brain, telling him that things definitely not okay, and that it didn't have to be on Evan.

Hank could practically feel his father's footsteps a few feet away from the door, and he was just about to knock and ask if everything was okay... but then he heard Evan.

It hurts.

But Eddie had been in the process of opening the door when his brother spoke, and the three Lawson men were caught in a tension-filled silence, full of stares, glances, and a spluttering Eddie.

Evan... Hank had called out to his brother, trying to duck and twist his body to see around his father's much larger frame.

He had barely managed to catch the reflecting sheen off Evan's big, blue eyes before his father had stepped into his line of vision...again.

Just a nightmare. Eddie had told him with enough authority and conviction to stamp down any twelve year old's ambition. Night Evan. And then he had walked into the hallway, and shut the door behind him, staring at his eldest son until Hank had said something about a bathroom and disappeared into the dark house.

It wasn't until the next morning during breakfast, after Evan had excused himself to get ready for school, that Hank set his utensils down in a quiet fury, and stared his father in the eyes.

All he had said was a venom-laced, I know, and that was all that needed to be said. The next day, Eddie disappeared. That same day, Hank tried to talk to Evan about what had happened two nights prior while simultaneously trying to console him with the absence of their father.

Evan, apparently, didn't remember, and Hank didn't buy it. Not at first, at least. But the more he pestered and poked and demanded, the more his younger brother would vehemently deny anything, saying he didn't know what Hank was talking about, and why was their dad gone.

Which brings him to the present day. To the argument. The one Hank had to physically remove himself from, in fear of actually smacking his brother.

He's standing just outside the kitchen, his back turned to what he fucking knows is Evan's dejected expression. Yeah, he's angry as all hell, but he was more angry at his brother's comment. It's with the assurance that he won't hurt his brother, that Hank walks back to the kitchen.

Hank makes his steps slow and deliberate, catching the gaze of his little brother and holding on to it. He's not sure what his face or eyes are reading, but he hopes it's apathy at it's best, not fury at it's worst. And Evan – Christ. He's just standing there, all nervous twitches and bobbing Adam's apple, apprehension and determination etched into his face like a hardened war hero returning to the battle field.

"Hank," Evan's tongue darts out to lick his lips, another nervous habit. "I didn't – "

But Hank waves his hand – more like the flick of a few fingers than anything, really, but it's enough to get the message across. Shut. Up.

And there standing right in front of each other, nearly nose to nose. It's with a sort of sardonic amusement that Hank realizes his younger brother being about an inch taller than himself, and looking more and more like their mother each day. He can smell the cigarettes on his brother's breath, but that's something they'll argue about later. Now is not the time.

"Do you remember, yet?" Hank asks, crossing his arms and tilting his head back just slightly enough to catch his brother's full reaction.

There's a moment where Evan's pupils dilate, nostrils flaring just the slightest, but it's as gone as fast as it came. In some part of the CFO's psyche, he fucking remembers.

"No?" Hank questions again, nodding to himself this time; it was meant to be a rhetorical question.

Evan inhales sharply, blinking frantically for a moment or two, trying to figure out just what the hell happened. "What does that have to do...?"

Hank's voice is icy and crisp, clean and disassociated. Clinical, even.

"At some point, you're going to have to realize that I won't."

Evan get's it now, or at least he thinks he does. Hank won't forgive Eddie for walking out on them.

"You can't just act apathetically toward him every time you see him, Hank. Like it or not, that's our father!"

"Get out of that fucking fantasy you live in!" And even though Hank screams those words, there's still an air of lacking in them. He watches with narrowed, brown eyes as Evan visibly flinches at the volume of his words, and takes a step back.

"At some point, you're going to have to accept what happened," and he's walking away before he even realizes it himself.

"Disconnect the dots, Evan."

A/N:

Let it be known that ScottIsInBolivia is not dead. Neither of us are. It should also be known that, here at ScottIsInBolivia, we don't abandon stories. Ever.

Alyx's spleen decided that it had, had enough of Mono, and ruptured. The reason Bite Your Lip And Fake It hasn't been updated is because he's either too doped up on pain meds to focus, or crippled with pain to manage the will to use his hands and type. The guy hates pain medications, but when he's forced to take them, he get's loopy. This is a collaborative story; I can't just write the chapters myself (I refuse to) and I can't just ask him to give me an idea train of what he wants in the chapters. So let's leave it at that.

Gotta admit that I'm kind of disappointed with the way the majority of you counted us as quitters. :|

Bite Your Lip And Fake It will be updated within the next two weeks, if not this week.

We're all big kids here, so bite your lip, suck it up, and wait out the next few days or so.