Joey sat on the couch, both kids upstairs. Both kids. His kids. He frowned, thinking of the Albert problem. Craig wasn't exactly his, he knew. This was supposed to be a temporary situation, until Albert could get his shit together. That meant when Albert could manage not to beat Craig just because he came home late.

He was angry with Albert. Albert the scapegoat. Unreasoning man. He remembered when he had come to the car dealership, the arrogance that seemed to come from every gesture. The way he fixed his glasses on his nose, the way he adjusted his jacket, the way he touched his expensive car. The way he would not let Craig see Angela and there would be no discussion. Julia between them. Silent, faded, but still there. Still a wedge.

He hadn't known the extent of it then. Hadn't known that Craig was being abused on a fairly regular basis and that he was suicidal. Hadn't known that all his calls to Albert in an attempt to help had actually hurt Craig more than anything. Hadn't known the lack of control Albert had.

It was easy to scapegoat Albert. Villify. Was he being exactly fair? Joey reached for his glass of wine, thinking it over. Watched the play of the light on the smooth surface of the wine. Maybe he wasn't quite being fair. He couldn't keep Albert from Craig, despite the bruises he had seen in the days after Craig had come to live with him. The alarming purple bruises on his stomach and chest, just as Angela had described. The slow way he had moved, being in obvious pain. They'd gone away, faded to insignificance, but the dull look in Craig's eyes had taken much longer to fade. The tired fear he had seen in him had taken much longer to go. Even now there were flashes of it, if he raised his voice too loud, if he moved too quick, Craig would still flinch, still jump, still close his eyes and breath fast and shallow.

Joey took a small sip, the slightly bitter taste of the wine reminding him of other times he has had it, once with Julia on their anniversary. She had been so beautiful. Long curly hair, that smile. It was a lot like Craig's smile, actually. Her long graceful fingers entwined with his, and he'd sipped the wine with her and watched the play of light in her eyes, the shine on her hair, and he'd thought it was forever. He laughed, a short bitter laugh. What had he known?

Was he not giving Albert a chance because he had hurt Craig and Julia and he couldn't forgive him? Wouldn't let him change? Craig was his son after all. If he's honestly worked at the anger management and got himself under control doesn't he deserve to have Craig back?

Joey shook his head, listened to the silence of the house, the hum of the heaters, the clinking of pipes, creak of floorboards. Swallowed the last of his bitter anniversary wine. He didn't like the anger he's seen in Craig since his father burst back into his life. Didn't know if Craig was exactly dealing with this whole thing well. Didn't know if he should let him see Albert again. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, whispered, "Julia…I don't know what to do,"

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Craig was upstairs but not asleep. He was remembering.

"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it-"

Cut off by being grabbed so fast, so roughly. His father's hands squeezing his wrists and it hurt, even twisting them he couldn't get away and then he shoved him against the wall. Punched him. So hard and he just wanted it to stop…

Craig opened his eyes in the darkness of his room at Joey's house. He didn't remember much more than that. Not what he had done. Not what had happened after. Just that flash of trying to say he was sorry and being grabbed and shoved, the way his dad looked at him with this twisted angry look. How he had hated him. How he had hated him in defense because it had seemed that his dad was the one who had hated him.

Craig remembered thinking, when he had lived with his dad, why'd he even bother to have a kid if this was how he was being treated? What was the point of it? And were things so different now? Had his dad really changed?

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Angela was reaching for a can of pop high on the shelf in Snake's refrigerator, and Snake walked by and grabbed it for her. Saturday. Joey stirred sugar into his coffee and watched Angela struggle with the pop top on her soda.

"Where is he now?" Snake said. Joey poured in some cream from the ceramic cow creamer Snake had. The cream poured out of the cow's mouth.

"He's, uh, at Sean's. I couldn't take another weekend of him being at Albert's,"

"He's gonna go back there," Snake said slowly.

"I guess, but it, it doesn't seem to be going very well. He's coming home so pissed off,"

Snake nodded, stirred sugar into his own coffee.

"Joey, have you ever thought that Craig maybe, hasn't really dealt with the whole thing?"

Joey shook his head.

"I thought he was fine, he seemed fine, until Albert came back,"

Snake gulped his coffee, looked to the side, his pale blue eyes bloodshot.

"Seeing Albert is probably stirring everything up. Joey, Craig's been through a lot. His mom's death, his father mistreating him, the train thing. Maybe he should see somebody to help him sort of…sort things out a little bit,"

"Like a shrink?" Joey said, and Snake had to smile, thinking of the scene in Rebel Without A Cause when Plato said to the cop, "you mean a head shrinka?"

"Yeah, like a shrink,"

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"No," Craig said. Joey had broached the subject of the shrink after Angela went to bed. Craig sat at the kitchen table while Joey rinsed the dishes.

"Craig, I think it might help. It could help you-"

"No. I'm fine. I don't need help,"

He was angry. Joey noticed the fierce set of his jaw, the hard look in his eyes, the clenched fists.

"You're not really fine, and since you've been seeing Albert again-"

"I'm fine, okay! I'm fine! Jesus, Joey, just leave me alone!"

Pounded up the stairs, slammed the door, woke up Angela. She came to the foot of the stairs, sleepy-eyed.

"What's wrong with Craig?" she asked in her little voice.

"Nothing, honey, he's, um, he's fine. Go back to bed," She turned to go back down the hall and Joey went up, tucked her in and got her a glass of water.

"Craig's mad, huh?" Angela said, setting her water on the nightstand.

"Yeah, honey, he is,"

"At you?" she said, and Joey closed his eyes.

"Sort of, but he's sort of mad at his dad, too,"

"Because he hurt him?" Angela said, her eyes darkening, thinking of the bruise she saw when his shirt lifted that day in the park. Thinking of how he had been in pain when she accidentally touched him there.

"Yeah,"