Author's Note: Real men cry. The pressure of life becomes so much at times that you need to relieve it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, and I am only writing it because Vol Lady wished it.

The bath salts smelled of honeysuckle and had turned the bath water an opaque pale pink, like the milk left in the dish after you've eaten all the strawberries. His body, under the water, was invisible. He leaned his aching head back against the porcelain lip of the tub and sighed. He had given up thinking, and just lay, letting the warm, sweet-scented water soak all his cares away. He had never known such luxury until he'd come to live with the Barkleys.

And if tears streamed from the closed eyes, down the flushed cheeks (one of which still stung), and surged over the slightly elevated chin before dripping down onto the taut and exposed neck, there was no one to see, or care, or judge. It was just more salt added to the soothing bath.

He sank down slowly, until he was completely submerged, entirely hidden under the pink water. He was safe there, at the peaceful bottom of his own private porcelain sea. No sights, no sounds, no troubles. No angry brothers, no mothers or sisters he'd hurt. He hung suspended, floating, the smooth walls and floor and the silky water the only things in his world, until the need for air forced him to the surface.

He broke the air gasping, and blinking from the salty water in his eyes.

"I almost thought you'd gotten out," Audra said. "Here." She handed him a washcloth, and while he dried his eyes, she set the towels she brought down on the dressing table, and seated herself in the vanity chair.

"Audra, I've told you before, it ain't fittin' for you to come in here when I'm takin' a bath."

"Pshaw!" She dismissed his objection with an airy wave. "We're brother and sister, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are, but—"

"I had three brothers already before you came here, it's not like you've got anything I haven't seen—"

"For pity's sake, Audra—" She might be shameless, but he wasn't. He could feel himself blush.

"Look, Heath, I need to talk to you, and this is the only place I can be sure will be private."

Well, at least she was talking to him. And Gene had warned him. Heath said gently, "What is it, sis?"

She frowned. "I wish I had known… what happened—what was happening… to Nick."

Her brother sighed. "I wish I could have told you."

"That's it," she agreed, seemingly relieved.

He was confused. "What's it?"

"If you thought Nick was going to die, and you made him a promise; well, that's a promise you have to keep, isn't it?"

Heath's brow creased. "I thought so… I guess I still think so. I try to keep my promises, even to people who aren't dying."

"Will you promise me something then?"

"All right."

"Don't be angry at Jarrod."

A wave of weariness seemed to crash over him, there in the tub. "I'm not angry at Jarrod, sis. He's angry at me."

Heath watched as Audra rose from the little chair and came over to kneel next to the tub. Her right hand rose, and while her other fingers curled under, her index finger made an arc in the air that landed lightly on the very tip of her half-brother's nose.

"He won't be angry forever," she promised.