They hide the knives.

Tasha makes a big thing out of it by trying not to. She brings in rolls of bubble wrap and anything sharp, anything too big and metal and dangerous, is packed away into boxes Davenport bought when they were packing up their life. Adam carries the boxes upstairs while Leo tries to impress Chase with a handheld game and Bree watches it all with her big, brown eyes. And every time Chase glances over at Tasha, she smiles and comments how much stuff they have, how there's not enough room for it all. Just making room.

Chase doesn't have the heart to tell her she's wasting her time. He's never felt an impulse to draw a blade across his wrist. He''s never stared at the knife in his hand at dinner and fought to put it back down, never held his razor while shaving and imagined cutting his throat. It's not that kind of problem. His skin just gets itchy when it's been too long since someone said his name, since someone said "good job, Chase" and he knew he was doing right. His skin gets itchy when he's been alone with his thoughts and they start building up inside his head. His skin gets itchy when it's late, and he's tired but the hunger is keeping him up until excruciating exhaustion sets in.

And when his skin gets itchy, Chase scratches.

There's a sort of crippling shame, watching your family baby proof the house for you when you're sixteen. Chase mutters a quick excuse, as the pressure starts building behind his eyes, and makes his way to the nearest bathroom. He goes for the faucet, wetting his hand and rubbing it behind his neck. Out of curiosity, he pulls open the medicine cabinet and catalogs the lack of razors. His body goes tense like a bowstring, and the cabinet creaks under his harsh grip.

Chase thought it was bad when they were oblivious, but he had never considered how painful it would be for them to know and start looking for reasons.

Or maybe it's the combination of oblivious and knowing that's so painful. Because they don't know everything, and Chase still isn't sure what to do with that. They know he has bruises, that presumably came from somewhere. They know he has scars on his wrists, up his arms, and recent bleeding wounds that could only have come from one source. They know he's been hiding it, that he's spent money on covering up physical damage. They know he's done a pretty good job, because no one knew before his heart stopped and Davenport had to get closer than anyone should.

And Chase doesn't know if it takes conscious effort to be this clueless, or if it's really not as obvious as he thinks, but when they sit down in the shambles of their home to talk about things, they ask who.

"Who hit you?"

"Who's hurting you?"

"Who gave you those bruises?"

And Adam. Big 'Ada', sitting next to him like a solid wall of muscle. Towering over him, and it would almost be a threat if Chase couldn't look up and see all the worry and warmth in his eyes. Adam is so worried about him, just as much as the others, and it occurs to Chase that Adam has always had the biggest heart and the smallest brain. His brother is an absolute idiot, who can't really be expected to put together the pieces and realize just where Chase's bruises have been coming from. And apparently, through willful denial or pure stupidity, the same can be said for the rest of his family. These idiots aren't going to figure it out unless Chase spells it out for them.

Chase doesn't know if he can do that with Adam looking at him with those worried, warm eyes.

(Because he protects his family, even when they beg him not to).

So Chase doesn't answer. He says I don't know what you're talking about and No one's hurting me and, when they keep pressing, he falls silent. He won't talk to them anymore, however hard they press. And they bring out all the stops. Davenport spins from demanding to begging, from shouting to shouting louder. Tasha starts the waterworks almost every time. Bree gives soft pleas, gentle reassurances. She talks about mental disorders and uses terms she learned from a five second Google search on her phone like she's playing psychologist. Adam stays quiet, behind his shoulder and above his head. And when they give up for the night, accept that Chase has become a stone wall, he'll reach out to squeeze Chase's shoulder. He does it with the same carelessness he's always done things, and it hurts and probably bruises but Chase hasn't been looking so he can't be sure. At night, laying on a cot on the floor, he thinks it may be an intimidation tactic. To keep him quiet.

Each time he thinks this, shame overwhelms him and he doesn't sleep that night. Because Adam might hate him, and Adam might hurt him, but Adam is better than some common criminal threatening his men to keep them in line. Adam is a hero, and if he wanted to keep Chase quiet he wouldn't have to worry. He'd already know Chase won't say a thing.

Leo is the weirdest. He's always been the weird one, the outsider, the observer. He's never really fit in anywhere, Chase supposes, and he must have learned something from it. Because Leo is in the unique position to drift around the edges of the room and just watch them. He doesn't need to interact since the others pretty much have it covered with their overreactions, and no one really remembers him once the interrogation starts. Not even Chase. Chase remembers him later, when he's thinking about Adam's squeeze and his own flinch and Leo's studying gaze. He doesn't come up with any favorable conclusions when he starts thinking about that. Leo is so smart, smart enough to challenge Chase. He'll figure it out, sooner or later.

Chase just wants to tape this mess of a family back together and move on. He wants normal back, he's terrified out here in open waters. The ground has been erased from beneath his feet, and maybe normal was awful but at least he knew where he stood. Now he's in this freefall, plummeting towards a doom he can't see but knows is coming. He'll take the bruises and self-hatred and eternal misery over this consuming terror.

And if Leo figures out where those bruises come from, Chase will hit the ground and break.

It hangs in an uneasy balance for two weeks. After four days they stop ganging up on him. They accept he won't admit anything, and instead they take to babysitting him. It's as though they believe if someone is always following him, never leaving him completely alone, some stranger will walk up and say Hello, I'll be your villain for this evening.

That doesn't happen, but the Davenports aren't particularly known for stopping short. Chase always has company, which is equal parts annoying and distressing. He'd never realized before, but Chase needs to be alone. He can't think around other people, can't work. He can't be fully comfortable around them anymore, and he's always watching his own actions. He feels self-conscious, hyper-aware of his own awkward movements. The inside of his head has never been a great place to be, but it gets worse the longer he's forced to stare at it, with someone watching over his shoulder as he withdraws. He's never hated anything as much as this.

The breaking point comes quickly, when Davenport pulls investors and is able to pay for the damages to their house and lab. Everything is fixed, replaced, upgraded. Davenport is back at work most days, trying to deliver what he's promised these investors (and the knives stay packed away somewhere). Just as Chase begins to feel like nothing could possibly get worse, Tasha and Davenport call him out to the front room and they're sitting on the couch, pulling the whole 'united front' angle that means Chase isn't going to like what he hears.

And he's right. Because Tasha (and Davenport) have decided to sign Chase up for therapy. It's not that Chase scoffs at the mention of a soft science like psychology, though he totally does, but it's also that he's pretty sure this is most DOA idea anyone in his family has ever come up with. What's he going to say to a therapist? Yeah, y'know, my brother has super strength and can break my bones if he's not careful. Because bionics, which you don't know about but believe me they are serious business. My sister can run fast enough that the impact could shatter my body. Oh, and my amazing ability? I can do math in my head.

Isn't a big part of therapy supposed to be honesty? How is Chase supposed to be honest when he's a super-secret bionic human, whose very existence is probably illegal? All they've done is signed him up for an hour of wasted time every week, though at the very least it'll be an hour away from his overbearing family.

He goes, because he's not given any choice. He thought maybe there would be a way to evade this, but Tasha picks him up from school and walks him into the psychologist's office. She sits in the waiting room and waves as he walks through the door, all smiles and pretending. Pretending she isn't disappointed, that this isn't failing, that Chase is fixable.

He doesn't talk.

He didn't come in with the intention to stay silent, but once he was sitting across from this lady he just felt himself lock up. He's got nothing to say. There's a twinge at the back of his mind, some itch to respond and be polite and respectful when she holds out her hand and says Hi, I'm Dr. Lisa Reid. There's the urge to take her hand and answer, to respect the clear authority in the room. It goes as swiftly as it comes, however, and Chase remains still and silent. Dr. Reid gets a knowing smile, and she leans back in her chair to start writing on a notepad. There's another urge, to ask what she could possibly be writing when he's not even talked to her.

Probably 'difficult'. 'Reticent'. 'Disrespectful'.

After a moment she gets up and walks over to her computer. And she just starts working, printing out pages and clicking through her computer and even doing some filing. She doesn't even acknowledge that Chase is there anymore. He is caught in a strange between, feeling like an intruder on her work and also painfully ignored. Which isn't fair, of course. He ignored her first. He settles himself after several minutes, and tries to enjoy the quiet and near solitude. It's almost the same as being alone, and he feels some weight lift off his chest, allowing him to breathe easily again. All he's wanted is a little breathing room.

Eventually, Dr. Reid interrupts Chase's thinking to say That's all the time we have. Have a nice day.

The easy, freeing feeling fades as Chase walks back to the waiting room. When he sees Tasha, that weight settles right back on his chest and feels suffocating. She hugs him and confirms an appointment for next week, and her hand on his shoulder feels like a thousand pounds. He sways under the pressure, and somehow remains standing.

Chase just can't wait to come back next week.

Chase is in the lab, alone with Leo, when it happens. He's still never alone, but now he usually only has one babysitter. His favorite is Leo, who always sits away from Chase in an effort to give him some room to breathe. It's not enough, not like it is in Dr. Reid's office, but he appreciates the effort. He appreciates that Leo never tries to engage him.

Until he does.

"My mom left my dad," Leo begins, and Chase was deep into a wall of code and can't comprehend what's happening for a moment. He pulls himself out of his thoughts abruptly, and stares at the back of Leo's chair. That cold, anxious sweat starts on the back of his neck. We don't talk about things like that. No one talks about what happened to Leo's dad, and no one talks about what happened to Chase's mom.

"Okay?" Chase ventures, when it seems Leo is waiting for an answer. There's no reply for a minute, two, three. Chase is considering whether he should prod deeper or extract himself from the situation entirely.

"They weren't married. Officially. They'd been living together since I was born." Leo turns his chair around, and Chase can see he's staring at the floor. His words start coming out faster, picking up speed as his nervous energy builds. "She came home early and saw him smacking me around a bit. Didn't even stay long enough to pack, she just grabbed me and left. We moved around for a bit until we ended up here."

"Leo-"

"He'd been doing it for years," Leo continued, raising his voice to talk over Chase. Chase lets him, and he's pretty sure he knows why Leo is bringing this up now. But he's not going to stop him, not if this is the part of his past he's going to share. "I just never told mom. I knew she'd be mad, you know? I knew she wouldn't get it all. There was more to it than just...like, it wasn't all his fault. I've always been a weird kid. And besides, it didn't mean he didn't love me. I loved him."

"Did you tell her that?" Chase can't help the question. Leo's situation is so different from his own, but he yearns for an answer. He wants to know if Leo was braver than he is, and if his worse fears can come true.

"Yeah. She sent me to a therapist, too. I told him first. He convinced me to talk to mom." Leo gives a weak smile, looking at Chase for the first time. "It took a while, but eventually I got it. Loving someone isn't really an excuse, and nothing will change if you don't start it. People can't help you if they don't know how. Right? My mom didn't even know I was thinking like I was, or that I had nightmares still...she thought getting away solved it all, but it didn't. And when I told her that, she started working on the rest."

"The rest?"

"I thought it was my fault. I thought...I thought she was in love and I ruined the whole family by making her take us away. I didn't know..." Leo trails off, staring at a point beyond Chase's shoulder. He'd never seen Leo look so haunted. "Turns out, she wasn't very happy with him anyway. She was sticking it out for me, so I could have a father. And I was sticking it out for her, so she could have a family. All it took to fix it was a little honesty from everyone."

Leo turns around again, back to his computer.

And Chase tells himself that Leo did this on purpose, it was a calculated manipulation. He's trying to pry open Chase's life and go through all the secrets because he doesn't know when to leave it alone. Besides, my family isn't Leo's family. It's different for me.

For some reason, he can't get Leo's words out of his head though. For some reason...he feels a growing flame of hope.

It's the fourth appointment he's had with Dr. Reid. She starts every session sitting across from him, hand outstretched and pleasant greeting on her lips. He starts every session sitting straight as a board, immobile. She sits for several minutes, writing notes and being equally silent before she moves to her computer and starts working. She always tells him when time is up, smiling and kind.

Have a nice day.

Today starts the same way. Chase takes his time building up his confidence, because he's never talked in this room before. That weight is still solidly on his chest now that he knows he's going to break his silence. But he has to. He can't tell his family, not with their overreactions and worried eyes. He can't look at them and still admit this weakness. But here, with this stranger who will listen and who he will never see outside of this room...well, everyone has to start somewhere, right?

Just before Dr. Reid will be getting up to work, just at the last minute possible...Chase starts to speak. And he's pleasantly surprised by how much more freeing letting go is than staying silent. As soon as he starts to talk, the weight and anxiety and fear start to release him.

It's...freeing.

Hey there! This is a sequel to my other Lab Rats fanfic, Hiding Bruises. You will need to read that one for this to make sense, since it is an immediate follow-up and directly related to those events. I hope you like this! If you did, maybe drop a review if you got the time? Thanks for reading all the same, and if you want to see more of this series or you want me to write some other angst-my PMs are open to all! And don't forget to follow. I'm trying to post more often, so if you like my style of writing be sure to stick around.