Once the changed rhythms of the Wilkersons' domestic life had been somewhat firmly established, it was relatively easy to fall into the new routine. Reconstruction was well in order. Three weeks after that night in the kitchen, Hal still got a little teary-eyed sometimes and tried to hug Reese whenever he got the chance. After lengthy discussion, Lois had grudgingly admitted that it was imprudent to adjust her schedule just to drive the boys to and from school, but she demanded that they walk together and stay in plain sight.

It only took a couple of days for Dewey to figure out that Reese knew he knew, and promptly broke the cycle of awkwardly exchanging quick glances across the breakfast table, opting instead for the Hal-method of comfort: surprise hug attacks, complete with emotional sniffling. Which normally would have pissed Reese off, but as Malcolm reminded him, Dewey was just trying to be supportive, so he allowed it.

After confirming with the local clinic that Reese had not contracted any diseases, Lois set up an appointment with psychiatrist ("No excuses, mister! If you aren't going to talk to your father or me, then you're seeing a professional.") and insisted on personally driving him there twice a week.

"It's not so bad," Reese told Malcolm with a shrug after the first meeting. "He doesn't make me talk about anything specific, just..." He crinkled his nose in distaste. "...feelings and shit."

As for Malcolm and Reese's...whatever it was they had, after that night in the garage, Malcolm was finding it increasingly difficult to stick to their plan to take it slow; perhaps due in part to the unfortunate fact that while Reese was under near constant observation by either Lois or Hal (his insistence that he didn't feel suicidal had fallen on deaf ears), they were severely limited in terms of privacy. All in all, they'd had only three or four quick trysts in the past several weeks: a couple in the hall closet, one in the music room at school during lunch, and another in the restroom of the local mattress store. All of which were over in a flash, painfully unromantic, and involved french kissing and wild groping more than anything else. Malcolm was convinced that his need to orgasm was beginning to drive him insane.

The only other chance they had in that period of virtually uninterrupted surveillance, when Lois was working the graveyard shift and Hal was watching a late-night movie with Dewey in the den, they chose instead to lie awake in Reese's bed talking freely in a way they couldn't elsewhere.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you," Malcolm whispered in the darkness, running his fingertips playfully back and forth over his brother's arm, "...this thing we have going...are you...well...are these feelings something you've been holding back for a while, or did they just develop recently?"

Reese frowned thoughtfully, rubbing circles on Malcolm's back. "I'm not totally sure. I mean, I've always loved you, or whatever. I know we don't talk about that kind of stuff, and we fight a lot, but...I guess I just always felt like that's the sort of stuff brothers do. You know what I mean?" Malcolm nodded, listening intently. "I can't really think of any specific time that was like...like an 'aha' moment, where I realized that I wanted you the way I wanted hot girl at school." His frowned deepened, pondering his words. "And...even now, I don't think it's the same as that. I mean, I don't like you the same way I liked them. It's different. Whenever I had the hots for someone, it was just like, I'd see a cute girl, and I'd get all nervous and turned on and stuff. And with you...well, at first, I just was...I don't know...drawn to you. If that makes sense. Like, I didn't know then that I wanted to get all gay with you, I just knew that I didn't really have any friends, and I spent all my time with you, and even though we argued all the time, I still felt closer to you than anyone else. And I loved you. Because we're family...and then, later...I started getting turned on when I was around you. And I started dreaming about you, and...other stuff." He flushed with embarrassment, closing his eyes and grinning bashfully.

He continued, "I guess it all just sort of fell into place. I knew that I loved you, and I knew you knew me better than anybody, and...it just happened, you know?" Looking at Malcolm, his eyes lit up with understanding. "But I do know for sure that I started thinking that way before...before Francis."

Malcolm stared at Reese in amazement and adoration. In its own awkward, rambling way, that was probably the most eloquent and deeply felt speech Reese had ever given. It was one of many moments in the past year that made him ashamed that he had ever dismissed his brother as a dope.

"Wow..." he muttered, reaching up and stroking Reese's face.

Reese snorted, batting his hand away with a playful grin. "What do I keep saying, dude? Don't get girly on me now."

Malcolm laughed. "Oh, shut up..."

"So, what about you?"

"When did I start having feelings for you?"

Reese nodded, looking slightly anxious now. "Yeah, tell me."

Malcolm thought about it for a moment. "Hard to say. I've always had fraternal sentiments, but...uh..." he paused, noting Reese's confusion. "Brotherly love," he clarified. "Like you said, even though we argue and fight, we're family. So there was always that."

He rolled over on his back, looking at the ceiling tile and counting the spots. "That first time we kissed," he continued softly, "I felt like I was finally allowing myself to act out on feelings I'd never had the courage to address before. Even to myself. I remember secretly watching you sometimes when you changed clothes to get a look at your body, even when we were younger. At the time, I just told myself I was jealous, and I was only looking at you because I wanted to belike you." He peeked over at Reese, who was listening silently, enraptured. "I never consciously acknowledged any sort of attraction, right up until that first kiss. But in that moment, I knew this was something I've wanted for a long time. Probably even before my body was aware of it. You were my first crush, whether I admitted it or not."

Reese smirked. "So you turned gay first?"

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Sure, if that's the way you want to put it."

"I don't have some way to put it," Reese replied smugly. "That's the way it is." Malcolm flicked him and he chuckled under his breath. Then, more seriously, "Thanks, Malcolm."

"For what?"

"For answering the question seriously."

Malcolm patted his knee. "You're welcome. Douchebag."

Reese flicked him back. "Butt-munch."

"Asshole."

"Cunt."

"...no fair, you always go straight for the big guns."

"That's how you win, loser."

Unexpectedly, they heard footsteps coming down the hall. Finished with his movie, Dewey entered the room suddenly, and Malcolm and Reese shut their eyes, pretending to be asleep. Standing in the doorway, he stared in surprise at his brothers lying together. After some hesitation, he quietly closed the door behind him, trying not to make it creak, and tip-toed over to his and Malcolm's bed. And though his eyes were closed, he stayed awake for over an hour, a weird feeling gnawing in the back of his brain as he tried to convince himself there was nothing weird about what he had just seen.

The rest of the month was relatively uneventful, though progressing with less tension than before: Lois started to relax a little after having a private talk with Reese on a trip to the grocery store (which she dragged him along to for that very purpose). Malcolm wasn't sure how much he opened up to her, but regardless, she seemed somewhat satisfied with what she learned, and gave the boys a little more space, choosing instead to spend her free time around the house working a little extra on each evening's meal during the afternoon. They all got the sense she particularly enjoyed chopping up the salad, probably fantasizing about doing unspeakable things to the man who hurt her son. Hal had finally moved on from his weepy phase, and was now in Dad-who-forces-quality-time-on-his-boys mode. And not just with Reese. They started going to the bowling alley regularly, which was a hassle at first, but after some practice, started being fun. Even Hal seemed surprised at the success of his mandatory bonding time.

Relationships between the boys themselves were getting back to normal, as much as they could considering everything. Dewey and Reese had returned to their affectionate sibling rivalry, though there was a lingering unspoken awkwardness; the two of them had never had a chance to talk through Reese's feelings, and it seemed unlikely that they ever would.

Malcolm and Reese, too, had restarted their bickering, but in the face of their newfound relationship, it lacked the heat it once had, coming across playfully than anything else.

Their parents noticed this, but regarded it more with relief than suspicion. Malcolm hoped they would continue to attribute his and Reese's friendliness to maturity or to sensitivity on Malcolm's part in light of the abuse.

"The situation."

"Reese's situation."

That was what how they referred to it, if it was even brought up at all. Devoted as they were to being there for Reese in his time of need, the family couldn't quite come to terms with the reality of it all. Like most of their issues, they buried it deep inside and dealt with it indirectly. A poor coping mechanism, but the most effective one at their disposal.

Malcolm and Reese barely talked about it themselves. Reese said whatever he needed to in therapy, and spent his time with his brother moving on from that part of his life.

In fact, Malcolm didn't talk about it with anyone until one Saturday afternoon he caught his mother smoking a cigarette in the backyard while Reese and Dewey were at the movies with Hal.

"You shouldn't do that," he said in what he hoped was a teasing tone.

"You should mind your own damn business," she replied without missing a beat, but shot him rueful smile after a second. She jerked her head, motioning him over. "Come here."

He joined her, leaning against a post while she put out the cigarette. "So how're things going with you, other than..." he gestured at the butt on the ground, "...this?" She peered at him with narrowed eyes and a thin-lipped smile. Malcolm could see the wheels turning in her head. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Uh...Mom?"

She took a breath. "You know, Malcolm...I never told you how proud I was of you for how you handled the situation with your brother." She turned her head, blowing out the last puff of smoke, and looked back at him. "I know that wasn't easy for you, having to tell us by yourself...and I can only imagine what it must have been like when..." She took another deep, shuddering breath. "...when you first found out."

Malcolm nodded slowly. "Thanks."

"I mean it," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, still looking into his eyes intently, biting her lip and blinking rapidly. "That took a lot of maturity, and you did good. And I want you to know that I love you, and I'm proud of you. Reese...Reese is lucky to have a brother like you." She removed her hand, turning her face away.

Malcolm felt a lump rising in his throat. He reached out, hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her from behind. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, but ignored it. "He's lucky to have a mother like you, too," he said quietly.

Lois stiffened, but allowed him to hug her and took his hands in hers, giving them a grateful squeeze.

The sun disappeared behind a patch of clouds, casting a shadow over the yard, and they shivered in the sudden coolness of the air. After a few minutes, Lois spoke, clearly, but rigidly.

"I've tried to make a good life for you boys. I know don't always make the right choices, but I don't regret much, and I'd much rather be the overbearing mother you sometimes hate than the neglectful mother who doesn't keep you safe." Her hands shook slightly. "These past several weeks have been...they've changed something inside of me. I feel like I've lost something, and I don't know if I can ever get it back."

"What do you mean?" Malcolm asked gently, his cheek pressed against her back, as he hugged her.

"I've prepared for every possible scenario. Raising you boys, I haven't had much of a choice," Lois laughed bitterly. "Back when it was just Reese and Francis, I even read a few of those parenting books. It was a load of crap, but at least I learned how not to raise you pretty early on." She paused, watching rays of sunlight poke through the clouds above them. "Every now and then, I've hated my job. Being a mother, that is. There are times when I feel dead certain one of you idiots is going to kill yourself doing something stupid."

Malcolm listened wordlessly, holding her all the while as she patted his hands.

"But I was ready for that. If it comes. I've always told myself I've been doing my part to keep you from ruining your own lives, and that anything you do to screw things up for your future is on you...but this is...not the same. I suppose it's every normal parent's worst nightmare; one of the things they fear most. But I just never...I don't know...I didn't see this coming." Her chest rose and fell with another heavy breath. "I couldn't protect my child from the one thing that I thought I never had to worry about. Everything I've done for you kids...it feels worthless."

She pulled out of his grasp, turning around to face him, her barriers finally starting to crack as her eyes teared up.

"And I know that's not true. I know it hasn't all been in vain, and things still matter, and that we can get past this. But I still feel like I failed in the worst possible way. And I'm not sure when I'll be able to forgive myself for letting this happen."

Malcolm felt frozen, watching his mother cry. This was Lois. The most powerful woman in his life. The strongest woman in the world, as far as he was concerned. And she was coming apart at the seams right in front of him. It was deeply unnerving.

He gripped her shoulders shook her firmly, forcing her to look at him.

"None of this was your fault," he said, emphasizing every word. "There was nothing you could have possibly done to prevent this from happening." More than you will ever know...

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "He's my baby," she whispered in a voice that made Malcolm's heart break. "He was hurting and he didn't feel safe talking to me."

"No," Malcolm said firmly, gritting his teeth to maintain his composure and keep from bawling. "He was in shock, and he just wanted to be alone. And he didn't tell you himself because...well, that's just who he is. You know that. He's...he's like you." Through her tears, Lois looked at him in surprise. "He wants to be invincible. He puts on a tough front all the time, so no one sees what's going on underneath. It wasn't that he didn't trust you...he just didn't trust himself to stay intact if he let himself be that vulnerable."

She stared at him for a moment after he finished, then pulled him into another hug, one so tight he could barely breathe.

"I love you, Malcolm," she whispered into his ear. "You're a good boy."

The words had never sounded so sincere.

Things were good for a while. Maybe even better than they had ever been, in some ways. Setting aside the new depths of respect he had reached with his mother, there were subtle differences in other family dynamics so palpable, Malcolm could sense them every time he entered the house. Reese and Hal took a camping trip, just the two of them, and when they got back, everyone could tell that something between them had changed. Reese hardly ever put up a fuss anymore when Hal asked him to do chores, and Hal, lax as he already was in enforcing the rules of the house, seemed more inclined to politely request, rather than command, when he wanted something to be done. The changes were small, but visible.

No one ever asked, though. And they never told. Much in the same way that Malcolm and Lois kept their conversation to themselves. It was their own private exchange, not meant for anyone else's ears. Even between the two of them, that afternoon stayed tucked away in the back of their brains, not forgotten, but acknowledged quietly as a stepping stone towards what was hopefully a better future.

And things continued in that way for some time. The pain was still there, but it was getting better. The family was growing stronger in the face of its harshest trial.

So Malcolm, ever the cynic, was not particularly surprised when he received the letter from Francis:

We should talk. I'll be in town next weekend.

Don't tell the family I'm coming.

Call me at the Red Roof Inn on Friday at 7pm.

-Francis

P.S. Burn after reading.

AN: End of Chapter 4. I can't believe I've written this much in less than a week. Not sure if I should feel proud of myself for accomplishing something, or embarrassed that I apparently have no life. I'll probably settle somewhere in between. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you are enjoying it! More to come.