Okay, I haven't done any final editing on this, but I don't think there are many typos or grammer problems. I did a quick skim through but I'm not sure it's enough.

Well, it's the conclusion to Survivor's Guilt. I hope it's okay, endings aren't my forte.

Erol and Torn are Naughty Dogs. Buir and Ripp are mine. Also, I made a quick edit to the whole story, took the H out of Sola's name. I don't feel like explaining why.

A red haired teen walked up to the door and gave it a test shove. It was locked. Sighing he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. He slid it into the keyhole and turned it. Opening the door he walked in, dropping his bag on the floor.

"I'm home!"

As he'd expected, there was no answer. He kicked off his shoes and shut the door behind him, relocking it.

He turned to head up the stairs to his room and was mildly surprised by a thin cord strung across the stairway, a note attached. The teen smirked, recognizing the messaging system he'd come up with and removed the piece of paper. His father's compact writing filled the page.

Erol,

I'm going out tonight. I'll probably be home around 10:00. Don't leave your homework until after dinner, get it done. I'm going to start laundry tomorrow, so take your dirty clothes to the laundry room. Also, the dishwasher's full. Empty it would you? There are leftovers in the fridge for dinner. If I'm not home by 10:30 don't wait up.

See you when I get home,

Dad

Erol smiled, his dad knew him too well. He didn't have homework though, one of the bonuses of actually paying attention in class. He unhooked the string from the stairs and coiled it up.

The house was quiet, too quiet for his liking. He hated the silence, always had; always would. It reminded him too much of those hours he'd spent alone five years ago. He subconsciously rubbed the back of his right hand, feeling the thin, curved line of scar tissue between his second and third knuckles. A shudder ran up his spine and he whipped around, half expecting to see someone there. There wasn't.

"Relax, you're just getting yourself riled up over nothing," he muttered to himself, attempting to ease the silence with the sound of his own voice. It wasn't helping much.

Instead of heading upstairs, Erol turned and walked to the living room where he turned on the radio. It wasn't much noise, but it was enough to keep the silence at bay.

What else had the note told him to do? He was dimly aware that he still held it. There'd been something to do in the kitchen, hadn't there? It wouldn't hurt to check.

He found a note one the dishwasher, this one simply read: Empty me. Erol couldn't help but smile. It was like having his father home in an amusing sticky-note form. He peeled it off the appliance and set it on the counter, he'd do it later. He noticed the other note, still gripped in his hand and put it next to its counterpart. He hesitated, the sound of the radio barely made it into the kitchen and the overwhelming silence seemed threatening to return.

Impulsively he opened the dishwasher and began to unload it, noisily putting the dishes away. It took all of five minutes. Once his task was completed Erol leaned back against the counter and for the first time since getting home wondered what his father was actually doing. The message had been pretty vague.

He hated this. The silence was coming back. He needed to hear a voice, desperately. He picked up the phone and dialed. It rang a couple times before it was answered by a dry voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Torn?"

"Hey, Erol. What's up?"

The redhead shrugged, even though he knew his friend couldn't see it, "Nothing much, I'm just home by myself. Got bored. What are you doing?"

"Homework, my science teacher's really loading it on right now."

"Ha. I don't have any."

"Show-off, maybe it'd do you some good to get some, you might- Whoa! Hey!"

Erol cringed at Torn's sudden shout.

"Sorry, I'll call you back in a sec."

There was a click and Erol was left wondering what in the world just happened.

Sure enough though Torn called back quickly, "Sorry about that. Metal forks, Ripp, and sockets should not be anywhere near each other."

"You're kidding."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, only I know for sure…dumb kid," Torn paused, "So why did you call me again?"

"Boredom."

"Right, I'm on the same page now." Through the phone Erol could actually hear the sound of flipping pages on Torn's end. "So…"

Erol sighed, "Sorry, I just…you know how I get when I'm on my own."

For a moment Torn was silent, "Right." Another pause. "I hate science."

"Oh? Why?"

"Cause it's stupid. I don't give a damn about unicellular invertebrates. What is the point of learning this?!"

"You do realize that anything related to medicine involves science, don't you?"

"Yeah, but that's different. That's interesting. This stuff it's just things like 'Do you know how many bacteria are on the soles of your feet?' No. And I don't want to know either. Seriously."

Buir finally got home at quarter to eleven. Erol was still up and awake, though his father's directions had told him not to be. The teen crept down the stairs, "Are you sure you didn't mean back around eleven?" he snapped irritably.

His father jumped, "Erol, I thought you'd be in bed by now."

"And I thought you were going to be back around ten."

"I was held up."

"That's awfully descriptive."

"Get off my case, Erol."

The boy crossed his arms, "Why? It seems like you're always on mine."

"That's different, I'm your father."

"Hardly seems fair. You can harass me about things, but I can't do likewise," he continued down the steps, "Where were you anyway?"

"Nowhere important."

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow skeptically; he now stood on the stair one step above the floor and less than arms' reach away from Buir.

"Erol, go to bed," Buir commanded. Erol didn't move. "Now." The man pointed up the stairs bringing his arm very close to his son.

The redhead caught the lingering traces of a sweet scent on his father's clothing. He immediately knew what it was – perfume. His eyes widened as he glared at the man before him, he grabbed his father's arm and shoved it away from him angrily. "You went on a date?" he snapped, utterly disgusted, "How do you live with yourself?"

Buir gave Erol a quizzical look, "Who said I went on a date?"

"Don't play dumb. The perfume on the clothes is a big indicator. So, unless you've decided to go 'trans' on me, which seems unlikely…"

"Maybe I was at a business meeting."

"You weren't. You can't enough scent for me to notice at a business meeting. And besides, you would've just told me if it was a business meeting. You freak, Dad," Erol shook his head, "I can't believe you."

"Erol…"

"Don't 'Erol' me!"

"Calm down."

"No. Why should I? You're doing it again!"

Buir looked genuinely confused, "What am I doing?"

"Replacing her!"

The man looked shocked, "Erol, I could never replace your mother."

"Then why bother trying to?!"

"I…Erol…" Buir raised a hand to put on his son's shoulder.

The teen slapped it away, "Leave me alone!" and with that he turned and ran back up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him. Angry tears stung his eyes as he went and sat down on his bed, he put one hand beneath the pillow, searching for the item he kept there. It didn't take him long to find it, it was the only thing there.

It was the last picture that had ever been taken of his mother, only about a week before the incident. All three of them were in it; Erol had no idea who'd been taking the picture, details like that slipped his mind constantly.

He barely even needed to look at it; just the feel of the photo in his hand was comforting. He hugged his knees to his chest and just sat like that for a while, staring out at nothing.

Why hadn't Buir just told him it was a date? Sure, his reaction wouldn't have been much better, but still…his father was lying to him, yet for some reason seemed to think that Erol would always be honest. It was so hypocritical.

The teen's fists clenched angrily, why was everything so difficult all of a sudden? He wanted to scream.

He heard Buir come up the stairs, and was only mildly surprised when his father came into his room.

"Go away, Dad."

"Erol, I think we need to talk."

"No. Shut up. Go away. Leave me alone," he leaned over to turn off the light on his bedside table. "I'm going to sleep."

"Don't be like this."

"Like what? According to you and your notes I was supposed to be in bed about an hour ago. Now I'm getting in trouble for listening? What the hell do you want from me?"

"We need to talk." Buir repeated, walking over to turn the light back on.

Erol glared at his father. "Fine. We'll talk."

Buir sat down on his bed and Erol inwardly moaned; this was going to be a long talk. "I know that it's a hard thing to accept but-"

That was as far as Erol let him get, it had to be a new record, less than a sentence. "No way, I never would have guessed. Who would have thought that?" his tone dripped sarcasm. "You just don't get it Dad."

"Then help me 'get it.'"

"No. You don't understand and you never will."

"Because you won't let me."

Erol turned away, he knew it was true, his reluctance to talk made dealing with it difficult. "Leave me alone."

"Not until you elaborate on this."

"I don't want to."

Buir stood up, exasperated, "Fine, be that way. But you have no right to complain anymore. You're not the only one who cared about her, Erol; I lost my wife that day." He began to head towards the door.

Erol looked up and watched him go, his stomach churning, "Dad?"

Buir turned around, "Yes?"

He turned away again, "Never mind."

"Good night, Erol."

"Night Dad," he muttered, lying down. Buir was about to shut the door when Erol sat up again, "Dad?"

Buir didn't respond, but he stopped mid motion and glanced over his shoulder.

"Sorry I keep snapping. It's just…"

"It's just…?" his father came back into the room and sat down next to him, putting an arm around Erol's shoulders.

Erol grabbed Buir in a desperate hug, "I remember every detail of that day, and you don't – can't – but…" he found himself on the verge of tears, "I don't think I'll ever forget. And then you go and do something like this," the tears were actually starting to fall and he couldn't keep talking.

The man wrapped his arms around the teen holding him close, "Shh," he murmured softly, "It's alright."

"You…you just have no idea what it's like…" Erol muttered, regaining control over his emotions. He leaned against his father and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. He drew one last wavering breath and looked at Buir, "I think I'll go to sleep now."

"Alright, see you in the morning." And with that, Buir slid his arms from Erol's shoulders and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Erol lay down, sighing. He was never going to get used to the dating thing, but he knew he'd have to at least desensitize himself to it. It was tearing him and Buir apart. The last thing he wanted was to lose his dad as well.

Was that an okay ending?

There's more about Erol in my other story A Family Ripped and Torn, though I bet you can guess who that story mainly focuses on. He will be in there a lot however, so if you're so inclined I suggest going to take a look.

Comments? Pretty please?