3:29 AM

It isn't often that Declan Coyne comes to a point where he has no idea what his next move is. He's methodical, calculating, and most of all, very, very patient (well, okay, in most cases). He usually knows exactly when the right time to go is; on the flipside, also knows when to hold back and let the next move come to him.

But occasionally, he finds himself standing in front of a resolutely immovable brick wall, unable to go forward or around it.

And those are the moments that he hates the most- those moments of uncertainty, because this is a problem that money or charm can't fix.

He's come to that point now.

3:17 AM

Declan stands in the opposite corner of the waiting room, watching with an iron knot in his stomach as Sav embraces Holly J, stroking her red hair and running a hand down her back. Her arms wrap around him and her head rests on the shelf between his head and his shoulder. When they pull away, she tucks her hair behind her ears in the way Declan remembers, and it still makes his stomach flip like something right out of a silly love song. She stares off into nothing, blinking back exhaustion. He can tell the effort to remain composed is eroding her like limestone as she resolutely tries keep her dignity intact.

Her attitude doesn't surprise Declan in the slightest- he knows how he is- but what surprises him is the fact that she is even here in the first place. Does she know Adam? How would she, a senior, when the kid is only a sophomore?

Then again, what the hell does he know? It's not like he has been around, and besides, the few times he's talked to Adam, Declan's never mentioned his ex, nor has he ever talked to Holly J about Adam.

Not like he's chatty with Holly J about much of anything these days, all things considered.

Declan runs his fingers through his hair, trying his hardest to not think about that. He's got enough on his mind right now to think about without dredging up all those awful memories. He needs to stay here, stay composed, stay centered. Be Declan Coyne, Wall of Confidence, Unshakeable, Impervious To Damage.

3:31 AM

He's never been at a loss for words before. He has made practically a career out of words- negotiation, manipulation, convincing, bribing. Yet here he is, speechless.

SANCTUARY-ROOM A3

The brick wall that was the sign for the hospital chapel glares back at him from its position, mounted on the wall. It's almost like it's mocking him in some way.

No, Declan tries to tell himself. Ridiculous. You're overtired and don't know what you're saying. That's just ridiculous. It's just a sign.

Just a sign.

A sign of what- his fear, his worry, his need to do something to make him feel more in control than he felt right now?

Stop that, Coyne. It's a fucking SIGN. And no, not in a metaphysical sense. It's a piece of plastic with words scrawled on it. Nothing more.

3: 21 AM

As if she is reading his mind, Holly J stands up, gently easing Fiona out of her lap, and strides off the hospital corridor, and he inwardly breathes a sigh of relief. At least when she's gone, he doesn't have to think about her quite so much. Out of sight, out of mind.

Or at least, that's what he tries to tell himself.

3:34 AM

Strange. He hasn't been into a church in years. The last time he went, he was a small boy- second or third grade, he can't really remember- and his parents went to Mass at the Vatican on Christmas Eve, with Pope John Paul II presiding. Not that his family was resolutely Catholic or anything- it had been more of a formality than anything else.

Declan doesn't puts much stock into religion. Okay, he doesn't put any stock into it. He can never remember a time when he actively prayed for something and really believed that it would come true. It was like Santa Claus- make a perfectly ridiculous wish and believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's going to come true, when really it's just a silly little tale told to children to make them behave.

It's been a long, long time since Declan believed in Santa, but even as he grew up, he would find it funny and slightly ironic that Santa Claus, supposedly the most benevolent and jolly force in the world, is really nothing more than the World's Best Plea Bargainer- be good, and you'll be rewarded with whatever you want. Be bad, and everything you want will be denied and you'll be left with nothing.

Religion doesn't mean anything to him. It's so childish, a security blanket to cling to when things get rough, the impossible and illogical hope that everything will be alright after the parents have chased the monsters out of your bedroom closet and from under your bed.

3:23 AM

Declan takes the seat next to Fiona, who holds her forehead in the palm of her hand.

"You alright?" he asks her.

"My head's pounding," she mutters, wincing as the light assaults her tired, swollen eyes.

Declan spies her handbag at his sister's feet. Rummaging through it, he finds a bottle of Advil, and hands her two capsules.

"Thanks," she says gratefully, swallowing them without water.

"No problem."

They sit in silence for awhile. Riley, who has been sitting on the other side of his sister, suddenly stands up and stretches himself out, wincing and rubbing the creaking muscles in his neck.

"Anyone want anything to drink?" he asks. "I'm gonna grab a soda or something."

Fiona grabs a dollar out of her bag. "Could you grab me a Sprite?"

"Sure."

"I'm okay," he replies, suddenly aware of how hungry he is. "But do they have any food around here?"

Riley shrugs. "Dunno. Cafeteria's closed, but there's a vending machine somewhere."

Declan nods, getting to his feet. It's funny that even during such a time, he still feels the urge to eat something. It seems so out of place and a little bit wrong on some front, to do something so mundane and part of an ordinary daily routine when the normalcy of their world had been momentarily suspended. But his stomach is still growling and his head still felt light, all signs that his body needed some form of nourishment. So even while their minds are trapped in this Twilight Zone vortex of dismembered reality, their bodies still remain anchored in the ordinary.

He turns to Fi. "Want me to get you something?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think I could keep anything down. Just a soda to sip."

He gives her a pallid, weary smile before heading down the hallway.

3:35 AM

There are no atheists in foxholes.

The old cliché comes back to him as he stands before the sign directing him to the sanctuary.

(So aptly named, and yet so ironic at the same it really a sanctuary for anyone? Did the act of simply going into the church mean that you were safe from whatever the world could throw at you, whatever barbs and sharp edges could cut you?)

Declan wonders where the cliché came from. Who was the first to realize that, whenever life got too insane, religion was often a place to turn? Putting yourself in front of some sort of higher power who managed to hold the entire world in Its hands, and could make everything alright with the simple life of a finger? Was this what happened to everyone who was faced with something so unthinkable that you couldn't even begin to sort through how you might feel about it?

Maybe it wasn't about that. Maybe it was the peace in surrendering, the feeling of relief that washed over you as you surrendered yourself to the fact that there really was nothing you could do in some situations, and that no matter how hard you tried or how much you wanted it, there was really no way you could change it. Maybe, by making yourself weak, it made you strong, made you able to finally stand up and face whatever was coming at you with some sort of calm acceptance, after laying down all your sorrows and fears.

He doesn't know, but he does know that no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to make himself move away from the sign in either direction.

A pair of footsteps echoes down the hallway, and Declan feels the solid presence of someone standing inches away from him.

"Never took Declan Coyne for a praying man," Holly J remarks, staring at the sign.

He shrugs. "Hey," he says, "a man can change."

Holly J doesn't respond. Keeping his face pointed at the sign, he glances at her out of the corner of his eye. This is the closest they have been since the day he left, almost four months ago, and the most words they have exchanged since the door shut behind her as she strode out of Fiona's condo that cold afternoon.

"I didn't know you know Adam," he says, apropos of nothing.

She shrugs without looking at him. "I don't, really," she says. "I came for Fiona."

"Me, too," he agrees.

Silence. What else could they possibly say? Certainly nothing that he wants to address here. He's not even sure he could begin to find the words, anyway.

"He makes her so happy," Holly J says suddenly, and this time, they look at each other, eyes locking. "She's been so happy; happier than I've ever seen her." She bows her head. "I wish I had gotten to know why."

He gazes at her, trying to figure out what to say. He wishes the same thing- that he had gotten to spend more time with his sister's boyfriend, to figure out exactly what it was about their peculiar connection that had seemed to bring so much peace to his sister for the first time in years. But he doesn't know what to say that wouldn't sound like a trite platitude straight out of a greeting card, so he just clears his throat and swallows the realization that he may never know.

He's suddenly aware of the movement of his hand, reaching upward towards her as if it has a mind of its own. It makes a motion as if to touch her cheek, but right before skin meets skin he jerks it away.

The suddenness of his motion makes Holly J turn to look at him. Her gaze isn't surprised or angry, but instead just sad.

"Declan," she whispers, pleading. "Please don't. Not here. Not tonight."

He nods, pocketing the traitorous hand in his pants pocket.

"Oh."

A small noise startles the both of them out of the moment as both of their heads turn. Clare Edwards stands in the hallway before them, her face white and eyes downcast.

"Sorry," she mumbles, and Declan finds it funny that she's embarrassed at a time like this. "I…I'll go."

"No," Holly J interrupts. "It's okay. I was just leaving." Without turning to look back at Declan, she strides down the hallway, leaving him and Clare in front of the sign.

"I didn't know you were a Christian," Clare says softly after a moment.

"Neither did I," he says. At her look, he sighs. "I'm not."

He shuffles uncertainly. "I don't know what I'm doing here," he admits, surprising the both of them.

His eyes trail to the cross around her neck. "Are you gonna go in?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you gonna go in?" he repeats. "The chapel. You gonna…go pray?"

He realizes as soon as he says the words that it didn't come out quite right- it sounds like he's mocking her. "Sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't mean it like that."

Another silence falls. Clare has always known the expression that silence is deafening, but she's never really understood it until now. The air between them is so thick she feels like she's swimming through it, loaded down with all the words she can't dislodge from the back of her throat.

"I don't know, either," she confesses suddenly.

"Don't know what?"

Her eyes are still fixed on the sign, but she can tell that Declan is watching her, a worried look on his face. Clare crosses her arms over her chest. "What I'm doing here."

"I went to a Buddhist temple once," he says, trying to close the silence between them. "When we lived in Tibet. Went with the Dalai Lama. I thought they had the right idea about religion. Believing that at the end of it all, everything is nothing. There's something to be said about that."

"Isn't it that nothing is everything?" Clare asks.

He shrugs. "Isn't that the same thing?"

Clare works over his words in her mind. That kind of philosophy could have helped her out in the middle of her divorce. Could have helped Eli out, too, if he was the type to go for any type of religion.

We hold onto so much, she thinks. What good does it do to any of us? We bottle up our pain like it means something, then offer it up as penance for the things we've done wrong. Absurd. Like our suffering means anything.

She thinks of Eli, still jumping at Death's shadow. Darcy, all the way in Africa, trying to outrun her supposed sins and face them head-on at the same time. Can either of them, Clare wonders, really say that they are any better off for their suffering; that after everything they've been through, they have finally found some sort of reason for everything? Is there really something to be said for discovering reason in the wake of tragedy? Or, like everything Eli believes, is it all really just a bunch of bullshit, a Band-Aid that can never be big enough to cover a gaping wound?

"I forgot to pray," she whispers, out of nowhere. Her eyes widen and she throws a furtive glance at Declan, feeling the exact same flood of embarrassment, disbelief, and shame that she had felt when she kissed his neck a year ago.

Declan, too, has the same look of confusion he had back then. "What?"

"I forgot to pray." She sniffs, blinking back tears. Her eyes trail off down the corridor.

"When I first…when Sav got the call from Principle Simpson, and he told me and Alli, it was…I don't know what it was. Horrible. The most terrifying experience of my life. Something that I'll never be able to forget, as long as I live. And now…"

"I don't even know what to say, or do, or anything. It's like my mind's spinning, trying to grab onto something. I have no idea what to do. And I've always known, my whole life- I've always somehow known what the right thing to do was. But when Sav told me what had happened, I thought- 'I don't know anything at all'. So when we first got the call, I forgot to pray. I didn't even think about praying at all. Not once. And I don't know why."

She doesn't realize she's crying when she turns back to face Declan. "So why isn't Adam enough for me to stop spinning and pray?"

Once again, Declan finds himself running into another brick wall in the maze that is this night. He has no idea what he could possibly say to Clare that would make this any better, and he hates realizing that there is nothing he can do.

"You're here now," is all he can offer. "And God got Adam this far."

Clare wipes her eyes on the back of her hand, and seems to seriously consider this.

Author's Note: I have to be honest- I can't wholly take credit for writing this chapter. The line about Buddhism and everything being nothing comes from an episode of Six Feet Under. That little exchange of words inspired this whole chapter. I couldn't NOT use it. So hopefully Alan Ball won't sue me for using it, cause I'm poor.

Also, to the reviewer who pointed out my reference to Toy Story in the previous chapter…bonus points.