AN: So I got more ideas, and decided to continue this. Simple as that. These are meant to be short snapshots of people and events, so if the process shown isn't as through as one might like... Well, that's life (literally).

In case you're wondering, all info about Dave's past and family not from canon is imported from another story of mine, "A Life, Lived in Pieces." I'm egotistical that way (plus, it was partly an attempt to explain stuff in canon like the non-mention of Dave's mom). Check it out if you're curious about how I saw things.

"Dad is..." Dave sighed, trying to keep a slight grin off his face. "Dad is... okay. I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, it's... he's been great about the whole gay thing, but it's starting to get a little... smothering."

"Given the circumstances, you can't say you don't understand."

"No, no, I do. It's just that... I'm eighteen. I don't need my dad with me every moment of every day, asking me how I am and offering to talk or do whatever with me, no matter how tired he is. I guess it's nice, in a way, especially when I get to eat what I want almost every night for dinner, but it's just getting kind of tiresome."

"He almost lost you," Dr. Taylor said quietly. "And at an age where he'd probably be losing you anyway, to the demands of the adult world. He's trying to make the most of the time he has."

"And I get that. Really. But... it's like he feels guilty. And he doesn't have any reason to."

Dr. Taylor leaned forward in her chair, as if in interest. "You told me the two of you have discussed that before."

"Kind of. We don't really talk about it... not directly, anyway. But things slip out sometimes. I think he thinks that he should've said something before, whenever my mom said something about gays. Or that he should've tried harder to find out why I was so... angry last year. Or interrogated my brother about what he knew..." Dave shook his head. "I'm pretty sure he keeps coming up with 'maybes' and ways he 'should've' done something different... But he didn't, and now he's trying to make up for all of it all at once..." He looked up at Dr. Taylor wryly. "Did I tell you he's going full on into the whole 'gay pride by proxy' thing?"

Dr. Taylor smirked. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. He's been going out with Kurt's dad lately and practically interrogating him, from what I can tell. He's also been going to PFLAG meetings and coming home with rainbow flags and 'Proud of My Gay Son' t-shirts... He even wants to drag me to a Pride event..."

"A real Debbie Novotny, eh?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. But it sounds like your father's educating himself... That can't be all bad." Dave snorted. "What?"

"Nothing. I just remember Kurt telling me that I needed to 'be educated.'"

Dr. Taylor smiled. "He had the right idea, in a sense. Your father's realized he made a mistake in the past, and now he's working to correct it." She cocked her head. "He just hasn't yet gotten over his guilt, and is still letting it run away with him."

"Like father, like son, huh?" Dave was a little too proud of himself for picking that up; it wasn't like Dr. Taylor was being subtle or anything. But maybe it was a sign he was learning something - at the least how to read his therapist.

"Maybe a little. But enough so that maybe you should have a little patience with him. And with yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. It's just that... everyone seems to think they made me try to hang myself. Kurt, Sebastian, Dad, Mom, Jack... Why won't any of them let me take a little responsibility?"

"It seems to me you already have. And more."

"But that's what makes it shitty. They think they're making me feel better, but they're not. It just makes me feel worse, listening to them rip themselves apart for something I did..."

"It's a fine balance," Dr. Taylor replied. "Acknowledging responsibility for one's own actions, but also acknowledging that a lot of what you are and what you do comes from your upbringing and from the influence of others."

"Are you saying they're right?"

"I'm saying that they're not as wrong as you think they are. And that that fact doesn't make any of them bad people, any more than your own responsibility makes you an inherently bad person." She paused. "Not that you would think that, of course."

There was silence.

"No, of course not," Dave finally said in a shaky voice. It wasn't that he still thought that... at least not as much. But sometimes, just sometimes, when his guard was down and his mind was wandering, trying to figure out when his life went all to hell, he thought... well...

"But we'll return to this later," Dr. Taylor said in a tone that cast her seemingly casual statement as more of a sacred oath. "But back to your father..."

"Like I said, it's annoying, but I do understand," Dave replied instantly, his shoulders relaxing in relief. "I just wish he wasn't doing so much for my sake."

"He's your father. Parents tend to do that. There's not much I wouldn't do for my daughter. Especially if I thought I'd failed her. Even..." she said firmly, stalling the words right out of Dave's open mouth, "if I were wrong about failing her. Come on, I thought all kids knew that it was our God-given right as parents to overreact."

Dave roared, a full-fledged belly laugh. It wasn't even that funny, but it was like a pin pricking a balloon - something had to give. "You got a point there."

"Then I hope you two will talk about this. Directly, I mean. It's pretty clear from what you've told me these past few weeks that what happened is still haunting him as well as you. I think you need to clear the air."

Dave considered this for a moment. He'd rebuffed all of his father's apologies in the days after the... incident. He'd thought (or maybe just hoped) that this was enough, but now that he thought about it, it clearly wasn't. He was avoiding the subject because it made him uncomfortable, and he wanted it to go away. Well, if there was one thing he'd learned in therapy, it was that things like this just did not go away all on its own.

"And if I could make one last request, as a fellow parent... go easy on him, will you? I don't know exactly what he's thinking and going through, but I can tell he's trying. And so are you, so at least you two have that much in common."

And maybe that was the point, Dave thought as he returned home and sunk into the living room couch: Dad realizing that there was a whole other side to his younger son that he had no clue existed. And that lack of clue led him to make certain decisions he wasn't proud of. Part of that was Dave, of course, hiding. But then, as Dr. Taylor said, there was the issue of why he felt that he had to do so. That was a whole other can of worms that had only been partially opened.

"David?" The door slammed; Dave straightened as his father's voice rang into the living room. "You home?"

"In the living room!"

Paul Karofsky appeared in the next moment, his coat draped over his right forearm. "Hey, son. How was the session with Dr. Taylor?"

Dave shrugged. "Okay."

Paul nodded. "Good. You can tell me about it over dinner. Can you get the spaghetti started? I need to finish that editorial about Chick-Fil-A if I'm going to get it into next Tuesday's paper..."

"Dad?"

His dad stopped cold. It was only recently that Dave noticed that he only had to say that one word to make his father drop everything he was doing. He wasn't sure how to feel about that either. "Yes, David?"

Dave swallowed. The words were simple, but saying them, directly, for the first time... He'd thought he hadn't needed to say them before, but now... "Y-you know... you know it's not your fault, don't you?"

Paul Karofsky seemed to shrivel before Dave's very eyes. With a heavy, drawn face, he dropped into his favorite chair. "It is..." he whispered, so hoarsely that Dave almost didn't hear. "Every day I learn something new about... gay people... and what they go through... and every day I'm more ashamed I never did anything..."

"Dad..." Dave wanted him to stop; God, he wanted him to just stop and be his stolid, unflappable Dad again. But Paul Karofsky didn't stop.

"There's so much I could've done and said and... I failed you as a parent, David. I shouldn't have let you feel so alone. I should've... your mother..." His voice stuttered; he had to audibly swallow to go on, and even then his eyes were brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry, I didn't ever want you to feel like you had to... to..." The tears were flowing freely now; Dave wondered just how long he'd been holding onto all that, how long he'd wanted to say something close to that, but was too ashamed to.

"It wasn't you..."

"It was. I may not have said anything, but that was the problem. Every moment I stayed silent and let your mother..." He rubbed his face with one hand. "God, I can't even find it in myself to blame her either, not even after all this. It's the way she was raised, her damn parents..." Paul Karofsky took a moment of silence to recollect himself. "I should've been doing what was right from the very beginning, not started just because I found out it happened to impact my family. But I am so proud that you're finally being who you really are, and I want to be part of that, instead of fighting it."

Dave shook his head; he was too choked, in throat and in mind, to be able to say much more than: "What can I do to make you feel better, Dad?"

Paul let out a stuttering sigh. "Do you forgive me, son?"

"Dad, there's nothing to for-"

"You asked what would make me feel better. And this is it: an honest answer to my question. Do you forgive me?"

Dave closed his eyes for a moment, searching inward for any answer other than the one he was about to give. He couldn't find any. "Of course I do."

He shouldn't have been so surprised when his dad enveloped him in a tight hug, but he was - at least, a little startled. His father wasn't cold by any means, but he wasn't the most physically demonstrative person. Dave returned the hug, just letting himself be relieved that his dad believed him. "Just... let yourself," Dr. Taylor had once told him.

"Let myself do what?"

Dr. Taylor had shrugged. "Whatever. Whenever. See how it works for you."

Dave hadn't understood what she meant then, but he thought he was beginning to.

"I love you, David," his father choked out. "Just... just never forget that, okay?"

"I love you too, Dad."

"You're still going to Pride, though. You need to see you're not alone."

Dave couldn't help but grin. "Yessir."

It took a few minutes for the two to separate. Aside from a few drying streaks of moisture, his father's face was back to its normal unflappable nature, much to Dave's relief. "Good. Now get that spaghetti going; I have an editorial to write." Paul Karofsky disappeared from the room, but Dave could still feel him, feel his emotion, even after the sight of him was gone.