Nicholas yawned, as he padded into the kitchen, pausing when he saw Steve. His son sat in a chair, his head on the table, soft snores coming from him.

Nicholas put a gentle hand on Steve's arm. "Hey, Son, this doesn't look too comfortable."

Steve groaned, as his eyes fluttered open, the morning sun suddenly too bright. He squinted, lifting his head from the table, then focused on his dad. "How'd I get here?"

"I don't know. Must be sleepwalking again. I didn't hear you this time though."

Steve stretched his arms above his head and stood up. "Man, that's crazy."

Nicholas poured himself a cup of orange juice and took a swallow. "I'm going to make some breakfast, then go get dressed. Anything you want?"

"French toast, maybe?"

"Sounds good."

Steve sat back down, watching Nicholas begin gathering the ingredients to make their breakfast. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

Steve looked down at his hands, hesitating for a few seconds. "Um, do you think it would be okay if I came to church with you?"

Nicholas looked up from the egg he was cracking on the side of a glass bowl. "Of course. It's more than okay, Son."

Steve closed the hymnal and set it down in the holder in front of him. As he watched Samuel close the lid over the piano keys, he felt a brief moment of recognition. Not sure where he may have seen this man's face before, he took his seat on the pew beside Nicholas, scooting closer to his dad.

Nicholas leaned over, whispering. "You okay, Son?"

Steve nodded, whispering back. "Sure. Just feels kind of weird. I remember coming here with you and mom sometimes."

Nicholas patted Steve's leg, before turning his attention back to the front of the church. He listened, as Pastor David made a few announcements, then asked Samuel to come up to the podium.

Steve leaned toward Nicholas, his voice still a whisper. "So that's Samuel."

Nicholas nodded, turning the pages in his Bible as Samuel told the congregation to join him in the book of John.

Steve listened to Samuel read John 3:16, then go on to explain the scripture. Then, he found his gaze drifting over to the pew to his left that was right in front of the altar. Pastor David was there, seated next to a woman Steve assumed must be his wife. Why does something about her seem familiar? he wondered.

Before Steve could ponder the question further, Samuel's voice broke into his thoughts, as he continued his message that centered on the reason Jesus came into the world:

"God sent Jesus to rescue us from sin because it was the only way for us to be reconciled to him, to have spiritual healing and peace."

Samuel referenced another scripture, and Steve looked at the Bible in his dad's lap, seeing him turn from Matthew to Isaiah, as the message continued:

"Jesus died because of sin, the source of all evil and the ultimate cause of every kind of human suffering. He suffered, carrying the sin and the pain. He hurt more than any of us could ever imagine. Jesus felt the horrific physical pain from the wounds on his body, the sorrow, the grief, the rejection, and the despair."

Steve looked up from his dad's Bible, watching Samuel pace around, as he talked:

"But Jesus didn't go through all of that because he had to! No, he did it because he loved people. He loved us. He still loves us today, and he cares about every part of our lives."

Samuel held his hand out for Steve to shake. "It's good to finally meet you, Steve."

Steve shook the offered hand. "So you're the preacher guy my dad keeps talking about."

Nicholas frowned. "Steve!"

Samuel laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not offended. It's the truth, after all." He leaned closer to Steve, lowering his voice. "But you're going to have to tell me what he's been saying about me."

Steve rolled his eyes and chuckled, just as Pastor David and his wife approached them.

Nicholas stood beside Steve. "This is my son. He decided to come with me today."

Steve and Pastor David shook hands, then his wife introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Grace."

Steve took the offered hand, his eyes meeting Grace's, the sting of familiarity so strong, he couldn't speak. He nodded, before releasing her hand. As she walked away, following Pastor David, Steve kept watching her. He felt the wheels turning in his mind, but was still unable to identify the reason for the flash of familiarity or the growing knot of tension spreading in his body.

"So I went to church with my dad this morning," Steve said, as he tossed the basketball to Soda.

Soda laughed, shooting the ball toward the goal and watching it bounce off the hoop.

Steve scowled. "Why is that funny, man?"

Soda still smiled, as he retrieved the bouncing ball. "Sorry, Stevie. It's not. It just made me remember the time me, you, and TwoBit went to church with Pony and Johnny.

"Oh! I forgot about that."

"If you asked him, Pony would still say you dropped that hymn book on purpose!"

Steve laughed, catching the ball Soda threw to him. "I'm sure, but I swear it was an accident!"

"Man, we were all goofing off so much, it's no wonder Pony and Johnny were embarrassed."

Steve shot the ball into the basket. "Damn, I was too when everyone turned around and stared at us like that!"

"Not me. I even laughed then. I couldn't help it with the looks on their faces!"

Steve dribbled the ball, grinning. "Remind me not to take you to church."

"So what was it like today?"

"It was okay, I guess. I think I liked it. It wasn't real boring or anything like that."

Soda caught the ball Steve bounced over to him. "I bet your dad liked you coming with him."

"Yeah, I think he did. Maybe I even will again. I don't know yet."

Soda walked beside Steve on the way to the Randles' house, the basketball under his arm. "Hey, you look like you're sweating bullets. It's not even hot."

Steve put a hand to his temple. "I am. But I don't know why. I feel kind of funny too. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Funny? Like dizzy or something?"

"No. More like I'm not really here."

"So where are you then?"

"Hell if I know. Not anywhere I want to be."

"I'll be back in a minute, Soda!" Steve put a wash cloth under the cold running water, then held it to his face. He let the coolness soak into his skin, before looking into the mirror. "Damn it, what's wrong with me? Nothing ever feels like this." He pressed his face into the wet cloth, his hands shaking.

"Feeling all right there, Son?"

Steve looked toward his dad. "Not sure. My head hurts, and I feel weird, almost like I'm dreaming or something."

"Maybe you should go lie down."

Steve shrugged, setting the wash cloth down next to the sink. "I don't know." He started to follow Nicholas down the hall, but paused when he felt tension gather in his shoulders and neck. He massaged them with his hand, then went back to the living room, where he'd left Soda.

Soda had several cards on the coffee table, arranging them to stand against one another. "Hey, Steve, I'm building a house of cards."

Steve shot him a half-smile. "What? Playing a game ain't good enough for you now?" He sat next to Soda on the couch and picked up a card, about to set it on top of what his friend had already put together. He stopped, the card still in his hand, when he felt a weight settle in his chest.

Soda looked over at Steve. "Doesn't really matter where you put it, man."

Steve put the card down on the table, blinking rapidly, as he shook his head. "It's not that."

Nicholas peeked in from the kitchen. "You boys want some lunch. I made some-" His eyes landed on Steve. "What's going on, Son?"

Steve didn't look at Nicholas, his eyes wide, as he stared across the room. "I don't know, Dad."

Nicholas came and sat on Steve's other side, perching on the arm of the couch. "You feel worse now?"

Soda shared a look with Nicholas, as he stacked all of the cards, then put the deck on the coffee table. "You look scared, Stevie."

Steve nodded, his voice quiet. "But I don't know why."

Nicholas put his hand on Steve's shoulder, leaning a little closer. "Look at me, Son."

Steve's eyes drifted down to his hands that were shaking, as his stomach ached from tying itself in knots. A pang of sadness pierced him, the weight on his chest growing heavier.

Nicholas squeezed Steve's shoulder. "You look like you're caught in a flashback."

"Is that what you meant earlier when you said you felt like you weren't really here?" Soda asked.

Steve shook his head, moving closer to the edge of the couch, his eyes refusing to look at Soda or Nicholas. "No. I don't know what's wrong. I really don't."

"What are you thinking about?" Nicholas asked.

Steve stood up, crossing the room, as a sudden spark of guilt, a flicker threatening to unravel the mystery, touched his heart. "I don't know."

"I know it sounds strange, but it was like I had all the feelings from a flashback, but without the memories," Steve said.

"It's not strange, Steve," Laura said. "Those emotions are part of the memories too."

"I didn't mention this part to my dad because it really is crazy, but this woman at the church seemed like she made me remember something. But I don't see how. That was when I first started to feel off yesterday."

Laura nodded. "Triggers can be very complicated. There are many things that could have reminded you of something from the past."

Steve shrugged, shaking his head. "But I don't even know what I was thinking about. I just know she seemed familiar, and it made me kind of nervous. I couldn't figure it out though. She's the pastor's wife. That's all."

"Earlier you said you decided to go to church with your dad because you thought it could help after the week you had. What's been happening?"

"What are you doing home already?" Soda asked.

"Nice to see you too, little buddy," Darry said, as he took his tool belt off.

Soda pulled a beer from the refrigerator, then opened it. "Aw, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"I know." Darry nodded toward the can. "I wasn't kidding when I told you take it easy with that."

"It's just a beer, Dar."

"But you usually don't drink very often. Or by yourself, for that matter."

"Okay. I'll give you that one. But it's not like I'm out getting drunk or anything. Just trying to relax.

"I know. I hear you. I just want you to hear me too."

Soda drew closer to Darry, taking a swallow of beer, as he peered at his brother's head.

"What are you doing?"

Soda grinned at Darry. "Searching for gray hairs. You keep worrying so much, and you'll have a head full of them before you're 25."

Steve avoided Laura's gaze, his voice trembling. "I really think I would've done it too if I had found them." He paused, swallowing. "I just felt so twisted up inside. I might've done anything to make it stop."

"What made you stop looking and call your dad?" Laura asked.

"I kept remembering how I told him I'd call if I needed him, and it scared me so bad. It was like one minute, I wanted to die and then the next, I just wanted help."

"Have you had the suicidal thoughts since that day?"

"Yeah. Not like that though. Not so bad, I think I'm about to self-destruct. My dad got me to talk to him about some of the stuff I was thinking. It was hard because I want to believe what he told me, but I can't yet."

"What did he tell you?"

"That Clara isn't part of me, that I'm not connected to her. I feel like I must be, like the person she was has to mean something for me too."

"But what could it mean? You didn't choose to be abused, Steve. Why would she be part of you?"

Steve leaned back in his chair, heaving a heavy sigh and blinking back tears. "Because I didn't stop it. I know I couldn't have, but she was touching me and all over me. And now, I can't ever get it out of my head."

"You think because you keep remembering the abuse, that affects who you are?"

Steve clenched his eyes shut for a moment, as he nodded. "Yes! It has to because I was there with her, and she wouldn't leave me alone."

"What does it mean for you that you were there with her?"

Steve rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and placed his forehead against the palm of his hand, a tear slipping down his cheek. "It means I'm like a piece to the past I can't ever get rid of. It's like she ruined me, so I can't ever make this shame go away. She was terrible to me, and I hated her for hurting me." He lifted his head, looking at Laura. "But I swear all I wanted was for her to stop. Can we please be done now?"

"It's fine if you need to go back to work, Dad," Steve said, facing the window, his head resting against the car seat.

Nicholas pulled into the driveway and shifted the car into park. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't want you missing more time just because of me anyway."

Nicholas sighed and turned the car off, pulling the key out of the ignition. "Just because of you?"

"Yeah. You didn't have to come today."

"You're right. I didn't. But I wanted to." Nicholas touched the back of Steve's head. "I know you had some tough stuff to tell Laura."

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Like always lately."

"That's okay, Son. It's what she does."

"But sometimes, I feel like it doesn't help." Steve turned his head to look at Nicholas. "I remember telling you I felt broken before."

"Yeah. I remember that too."

"But you, Soda and Evie, and even Laura too, made me feel less broken."

"So what about now?"

"Broken isn't the right word. It's more like damaged."

"But you're not. No matter what's in your head or what you remember."

Steve opened the car door, sighing. "Just go back to work, Dad. Please."

"What are you going to do?"

Steve turned back to his dad. "Nothing. I'm fine. You can't be with me all the time. No one can. Soda will probably come over here anyway. You know that."

"That's true." Nicholas met Steve's eyes and reached for his hand. "But listen to me."

"I know, Dad. I'll call you, or I'll call Soda, or go over there. I promise. If I need somebody, I won't wait."

"Hey, Stevie! You home?" Soda shouted.

Steve turned a page in his math book, writing down a solution. "You don't have to be so loud, Sodapop!"

Soda appeared in Steve's bedroom doorway, a smile on his face. "Yes, I do!"

"Why are you such a goof?"

"Cause I have to be."

"I knew you'd come over. My dad was worried about leaving me here." Steve put his pencil down and closed the math book.

Soda sat down next to Steve, his face growing more serious. "Yeah. I'm sure he would be."

"It seems like going to counseling just keeps making me feel even worse. I asked Laura if we could stop a little early today because of that."

"So did you stop earlier?"

"Yeah. I've gotten pretty good with being able to talk through stuff, but there are some things lately..." Steve trailed off, then put his math book in his backpack.

"That probably means you're getting somewhere, buddy."

"But it's like even though I don't mean to do it, a wall goes up, and I know there's more I want to say, but I can't."

"You will when you're ready. I think you've been through that before, right?"

"You remember when I had that flashback, and it was storming out?"

Soda glanced at Steve's window. "I could never forget it."

"Well, I haven't broken anything. Not yet anyway. But I start to feel like I did that night. Real angry."

Soda put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "If it's like it was then, that probably means there's still stuff you need to get out. You hadn't talked about much at all yet then."

"That's true. But now, I'm not even always sure what it is I'm trying to say."

Soda sat on the porch swing, a beer in his hand, as he stared at the moon. "Dar, do you think there's really a man in the moon?"

"I doubt it, little buddy," Darry said.

Soda giggled, his head falling on Darry's shoulder. "You're funny."

"How many drinks have you had?"

Soda shrugged and lifted his head up to look at Darry, still smiling. "Just a few. I ain't drunk. Just happy."

Darry rolled his eyes. "Uh hu. No more, Sodapop. You got work in the morning."

Soda laughed again. "I'm Sodapop, but I ain't high off of it! I like beer and beer likes me."

Darry chuckled. "It just makes you goofier."

Soda's words started to slur, his hand gripping his chin in thought. "That's the second time I've been called that today."

"I can't say I'm surprised."

Soda peered at Darry's head, then pointed his finger. "I see a gray hair!"

"Can't say I'm surprised at that either."

"Sorry if I snapped at you earlier, Dad," Steve said. "Counseling has been kind of hard lately."

Nicholas pulled a t-shirt over his head, then tossed his dirty clothes into the laundry basket. "It's okay. I know it has. And you didn't snap. You're right that I can't be with you all the time."

"I was telling Laura some stuff, and I started to get angry. It was pretty much the same thing me and you talked about the other night."

Nicholas nodded, sitting down on his bed. "Okay. You want to talk about it any more?"

Steve shook his head. "No, I just wanted you to know I had to stop with her too. It wasn't you or anything you said."

"Thanks, Son. I didn't think it was though. I'm not upset if it's too hard for you to talk about something."

"I guess I need you to know that I really want to believe what you told me too. I want you to be right."

Soda stared at the sky, his head resting on the back of the swing. "Dar, you ever wonder why God thought the sky needed lights in it?"

"Can't say I've thought about it."

"I wonder what Mom and Dad are doing up there."

Darry smiled. "Whatever people do in Heaven, I guess."

Soda turned his head to look at his brother, his eyes glassy. "You think they're watching?"

"Maybe. I like to think so."

"There are so many bad things that happen in the world."

Darry put his arm over Soda's shoulders. "Sure, little buddy."

"But I wonder why some things happen to some people, but not others. Even when they could have." Soda paused, looking at the sky again. "Even when you're both right there."

"I guess a few beers makes you get all philosophical, huh?"

"Do you ever think about what it would be like it you could go back in time?"

"That sounds like something Pony would have an answer for."

"I have one too. I know what I would do. I would go back. I would fix all of this."

"What are you talking about?"

"I would fix it. I would stop it. Then, it couldn't happen to either of us."

"What couldn't happen to who?"

Soda laid his head on Darry's shoulder, leaning against him. "Nothing. But I would. Then, I wouldn't feel bad, and I wouldn't have to be sad over what would've happened if I was late."

Steve stood on the front porch, his elbows resting on the railing, as he stared at the stars scattered across the dark sky. "So you got me, God. I believe you care."

He sat down on the steps, his eyes still on the sky. "I have to be honest here. It's nice to know you care and even to think you love me. But I still don't feel any better. So what else is there?"

Steve leaned back against the post next to the steps and stretched his legs out. "If you really know what pain is like, how bad it hurts" He closed his eyes. "then that means you have to know how much I can't stand to keep feeling it."

Grace looked at her sleeping husband's face, before turning over again and pulling the blankets tighter around herself. She closed her eyes, letting her head sink into the pillow and hoping for slumber to come.

In a whispering voice, she said a prayer. "I don't want to think about it, God. Why should I even remember that? I'll never know what happened anyway. I'll never know why."

Steve forced his eyes open, the clock with its glowing red numbers staring back at him. He looked around his bedroom, the darkness nearly closing in on him, as the images of the nightmare lived on, despite the fact that he was now awake, that his mind had to comprehend it hadn't been real.

Steve reached over and turned on his lamp, as he focused on breathing. He looked around the room again, the small glow of light helping him build a sense of reassurance. "Why am I dreaming that?" he mumbled. "I never dream about that anymore."

Steve slid out of his bed, unable to stop the pictures that circled in his mind or ease the crushing burden of fear and pain they brought with them. "No wonder I was screaming that one night."

Steve drove his car toward the DX that was just a little farther down the road. "Well, at least you're a funny drunk."

"I wasn't really drunk," Soda said, from his place in the passenger seat. "Just a little too happy. I was asking Darry these crazy questions."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something about the moon and God. I was just saying whatever came into my head."

Steve pulled into the parking lot of the DX, coming to a stop. "I know if I drink enough, I start saying stuff I normally wouldn't."

Soda nodded, his hand on the door handle. "Yeah, I definitely did that."

Steve watched Mrs. Patterson begin writing several equations, chalk tapping against the board, as she formed each number and letter. He picked up his pencil, copying the first problem down on notebook paper: 2(x+3)=(4x-1)/2+7

While Mrs. Patterson continued to write, Steve's thoughts wandered back to the nightmare that had pulled him away from sleep. But it didn't happen like that, he thought. I just wanted her to stop. He heard the tapping of chalk and snapped back to the present, copying down more of the equations he had to do for homework.

Steve moved the pencil along the lines of the paper, trying to focus, as he heard Mrs. Patterson's voice. But even as he wrote, the numbers and letters creating each problem, he couldn't hear the teacher anymore.

As the tapping of the chalk continued, Steve heard Clara's threateningly sweet voice. He could feel her hands wandering further down, her lips on his face. He closed his eyes, trying not to fall farther into the memory of her tight grip on his wrists, pulling him closer to her, forcing him to do as she said.

The bell rang, and Steve didn't move. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped. "Don't touch me!"

"Hey, take it easy."

Steve met the gaze of the classmate, who had tapped him on the shoulder, allowing only a second to pass before he grabbed his book and notebook, hurrying out the classroom door.

Steve pressed his back against the brick building, letting his things fall to the ground, as he dropped onto the grass. This can't keep happening, he thought, as he pulled his knees to his chest. I can't take it.

He fought against the tears that tried to fall, hiding his face. But he couldn't stop them, the memories too overwhelming, the shame too much, even though he knew no one at the school could see the past he longed to stop reliving.

He turned his head, fresh tears still on his face, as he took in his surroundings. He'd gone out the closest door, knowing only that he needed to get away from the crowds of students heading to their last class for the day. There was only grass and sky out here, an area just outside a hallway door.

Steve breathed in the fresh air, letting his head rest against the building, then he looked up. "God, I've had enough. I don't want to do this anymore."

"I'm fine, Evie," Steve said, as he stood next to his car. "I'm just tired. I barely made it through class."

"Would you tell me if you weren't fine?" Evie asked, taking a step closer to Steve and cupping his cheek. "You really don't look like you feel well."

Steve put his hand over Evie's. "I don't, but I'm trying to be better." But it's not working, he thought. It's never enough.

"What's going on, sweetie?"

Steve let go of Evie's hand and shook his head. "I have to go. I need to get to work."

Evie leaned forward and kissed Steve's cheek. "Remember I love you. I'll see you tomorrow."

Steve sat in his car in front of his house. He pulled out his wallet, opening it up, then slid the plan he'd made with Laura out and unfolded it, the words on the page so familiar. Gripping the paper with his fingers, he ripped it down the middle. "I can't, God. You have to do something here. I'm so tired."

Steve ripped the paper once more and let the pieces fall from his hands. "If it's not ever going to get better, just take me." He touched his cheek, still able to feel a hint of wetness from the tears he'd cried on the way here. But his eyes were dry now.

Soda picked up the phone behind the counter of the DX, dialing Steve's number. He locked eyes with Darry, who was out in the parking lot, as he listened to the line ring several times. "Come on, Stevie. Pick up. You should've been here half an hour ago."

Sighing, Soda hung up the phone, fighting the fear that something could be wrong. He looked out the window again, wanting to believe Steve's car could show up any minute.

Nicholas closed the door to the stock room, as one of his coworkers was picking up the ringing phone. He paused, as the other man's eyes met his own and held the receiver out to him, his voice serious. "Nicholas. It's for you. It's your son."

Nicholas rushed forward, taking the receiver in a tight grip. "Steve?"

Steve's voice came through the line, his tone panicked. "Dad, I did something I shouldn't have. My stomach hurts so bad."

"Sodapop, you can go," Mr. Coleman said. "Thanks for staying. Let me know if you hear from Steve, please."

Soda opened the door to leave, his heart pounding. "Yes, sir. I will." He turned and ran to Darry's truck, jumping in the passenger side.

Darry gripped Soda's shoulder. "Little buddy, you don't know anything is wrong."

Soda's eyes were wide, as he grabbed his brother's arm. "Something has to be."

Steve leaned over the toilet, his stomach overwhelmed with nausea. He vomited, tears also slipping down his face, as he sobbed.

His eyes were closed when he felt Nicholas' hands on his shaking shoulders and heard his voice. "Son, what happened? What do I need to do?"

Steve laid his head against the toilet seat, feeling his dad's hands tightening their hold on him. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, the nausea not relieved. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be like this. It hurts."

Nicholas put his hand under Steve's chin and lifted it up, his desperation growing, as he drew closer and met his son's eyes. "What did you do?"

"I don't feel good, Dad. Please help. I'm sorry I did it." Steve turned, vomiting again. "I don't want to die. I want to stay."

"Try to stay calm, little buddy," Darry said, as he stopped the truck in front of the Randles' house.

Soda bolted out of his seat, not even pausing to shut the door. He ran up to the house and went inside. "Steve! Are you here?"

Soda went through the house, his eyes looking all around it, as he searched each room. He shook his head, running back outside before yelling. "Dar, they're not here!"

"Let's just go home, Pepsi Cola. I'm sure you'll hear from him soon."

Nicholas sank down against the wall in the corner of the emergency waiting room, the full weight of what had just transpired falling upon him with undeniable power. He put his hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat, making life flow through him. He knew that his own life would've ended with Steve's, that he could not longer bear to breathe without his son by his side.

Nicholas felt tears pour down his face, realizing they couldn't even portray the pain radiating throughout his soul. No cry, no expression of grief or sorrow could do justice to the hurt that ran so deep, he was certain it was as much a part of him now, as the blood flowing through his veins.

Pony sat down next to Soda on the couch, though his brother's eyes never left the phone across the room that had yet to ring. "Hey, I bet everything's okay."

Soda turned and wrapped his arms around Pony, hanging onto him and trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. "I hope you're right, little brother."

Pony hugged him back, feeling Soda lean on him. "I know I don't know everything that's going on, but I know how worried you've been. I know Steve's tough too."

"I can't stand it, Pone. I know something's not right." Soda closed his eyes, resting his head on Pony's shoulder, a simple prayer coming from his lips. "Please, God. Please."

Nicholas sat in a chair next to Steve's hospital bed, holding onto his son's hand with both of his own. He saw his eyes blink open and look around, then spoke softly. "You're okay, Stevie. Just rest."

Steve felt Nicholas' hand on his cheek and leaned into the touch, his voice weak as he spoke. "I'm sorry I gave up. Please still love me, Dad."

Nicholas drew closer to Steve and kissed his forehead, then pushed his hair back off his face. "I'll always love you. You're going to be okay."

"I don't really want to die. I swear I want to live." Steve's voice grew hoarse and thick with unshed tears, as he started to feel the sharp edge of panic cut through him. "I just snapped today and couldn't take it anymore. Please believe me."

Nicholas slid his arms around Steve, careful not to disturb the IV in his hand that was hooked to a bag of fluids. He laid his head against his son's shoulder. "Shh. You're still here with me." He felt Steve relax beneath the touch. "I believe you, and I'm not mad at you. We'll talk when you're feeling better. You need to rest, Son."

Nicholas stayed close to Steve, as he drifted back to sleep. He closed his own eyes. Thank God you still called for help in time, he thought. Thank God you're alive. Because I could never say goodbye.

Darry kneeled down next to Soda, who was fast asleep on the couch. He shook his shoulder, gently rousing him from slumber. "Little buddy, I have to talk to you."

Soda blinked his eyes, looking at Darry, yawning, as he sat up. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Darry sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay. You're tired. I didn't want to wake you." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to tell his little brother. "But Steve's dad called."

"What? I didn't even hear the phone ring. Why would his dad call?" Soda started to stand, but Darry held onto his arm. "Darry, what happened?"

"First, you need to know Steve's going to be okay."

Soda nodded. "Then, where is he? What's going on?"

"Nicholas called because Steve is in the hospital. He thought you should know." Darry stopped, not letting go of his brother. "He's going to be fine. You got that?"

Soda's eyes grew wider. "Tell me he didn't, Dar. Please. Maybe there was an accident. Maybe-"

Darry moved his hand to Soda's shoulder. "Sodapop, he overdosed. And it made him very sick, but he called Nicholas not that long after. He took him to the hospital."

Soda stared at Darry, a cold fear shooting through him, even as the urge to deny what he was hearing grew stronger. "No, he wasn't supposed to do that. It wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to hurt himself."

"Listen to me. He's okay. Nicholas got him help in time."

Soda shook, as he got to his feet. "No. No, Darry. You're wrong. Nicholas is wrong. Steve was trying- He wouldn't."

Darry came to stand in front of Soda, holding his face in his hands. "We're not wrong, little buddy. It wasn't as bad as it could've been, from what Nicholas told me. But Steve did take too much of some medication."

Soda lifted a hand, wrapping his fingers around Darry's wrist, as he closed his eyes against tears. "But he's going to be okay? Is he awake?"

Darry felt tears prick his own eyes at the sadness he could hear in Soda's voice. "He's resting. He got very sick, but he was conscious. He's going to be all right. I need you to hear that."

Soda's knees buckled, and he felt Darry's arms hold him, breaking his fall, as he dropped to the floor. He fell against his big brother's chest, weeping for the pain his best friend kept going through, for the brush with tragedy.

Darry held Soda tightly to him, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry, Pepsi Cola. I hated to tell you. I know you've been so scared. But the worst didn't happen, okay?"

Soda pressed his face into Darry's shirt, the grief of near loss enveloping him. "What do I do, Darry? What can I do?"

"What you always do. Be there. Just love him, and be the damn amazing friend that you always are."

Steve grasped Nicholas' hand. "Dad, please don't leave."

Nicholas brushed away the tear on Steve's cheek. "I'm not, Son. I'm staying right here. They're letting me stay with you all night. I'm not leaving you."

"I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have done that."

"It's going to be all right. Just sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you. Please forgive me, Dad."

Pony came in from outside, the door closing behind him. "Hey, Darry, you'll never believe what TwoBit just told me. He-" He stopped, his gaze questioning, as he realized both of his brothers were crying. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Darry looked up from his place on the floor, where he held onto Soda. "Hang on, Pony. I'll come talk to you in a few minutes."

Pony shook his head and kneeled down behind Soda, putting a hand on his back. He stared at his middle brother, who hadn't stopped sobbing, then looked at Darry again. "Darry, did something happen with Steve? Why does Soda look like that? I haven't seen him like this since-"

Darry put a hand on Pony's shoulder, his other arm still tight around Soda. "Yes. Yes, it did. But it's going to be okay. I promise."

Pony laid his head on Soda's shoulder, the cries coming from his brother making his chest begin to ache with his own fear and sadness . "Please tell me, Dar. Please tell me what happened. He's okay, right?"

Darry nodded, wiping his cheeks, but not releasing Soda. "Yes, he's okay. I'm going to tell you. Just not right now. But I promise I will tonight."

Nicholas hadn't left Steve's side since making calls, both to the grocery store and to Darry. He remained there by his son's bed, even as the hour grew late and darkness shrouded the room. He felt the pain of this close call hit him with force only the knowledge that Steve had attempted to take his own life could bring. He gazed at his son, his own flesh and blood, the boy who was part of him. He longed to fall apart, to cry and scream, but he couldn't right now. Not here. He couldn't let the agony pull him under yet, not when Steve needed his strength to recover from both the physical ordeal and the surely worsened emotional trauma.

Nicholas didn't speak, as a nurse came in often to check on Steve. He had seen that her name tag read "Sara," but he only watched his son, his eyes closed in the temporary rest his body needed after the intentional overdose.

He heard the sound of Sara's voice and looked up to see her standing next to Steve's IV pole that held a bag of fluids. "He's doing okay. You look like you need to know that."

Nicholas only nodded, a lump beginning to grow in his throat. As he heard Sara's footsteps fall across the room, leaving father and son alone again, he leaned his head against the railing of the hospital bed, his face close to Steve's. He tried not to think of his son swallowing handfuls of pills, medicine that should help heal becoming a way for him to try to die.

Nicholas remembered how Steve had said he thought it would just make him go to sleep and not wake up. That wasn't what had occurred at all, and he was grateful that his son's body hadn't given up, along with his spirit. He was grateful that Steve had time to call him, that the emergency room doctors were able to pump the poison out and stop his system from absorbing more of it.

Nicholas had heard the doctors talking to him, the words "intentional," "suicide attempt," and "acetaminophen" coming from their lips, as they asked questions and gave explanations. They would keep Steve here on this floor for at least a day for observation, believing the blood work should be clear, no sign of the liver damage that would've occurred if it had been too late.

As much as Nicholas wanted to take Steve home, he knew he wouldn't be able to for at least a few days. But a part of him was relieved at this, knowing the hospital wouldn't release him right away, that they couldn't only rely on his physical recovery. Steve had to be observed and evaluated for signs of mental recovery too, so for the time being, Nicholas knew he was safe, even though it was hard for him to be certain this wouldn't happen again.

Nicholas looked from Steve's face to the window on the other side of his bed. He squeezed his son's hand, a reminder of his steady, un-moving presence, then got to his feet. He went to the window and turned the slats of the blind partially open. Pieces of light came in from the parking lot, casting shadows on the tile floor and white walls of the hospital room. Nicholas looked out at the sky, the pain in his heart great, but he had to thank the God of heaven that Steve would live to see the sun dawn on a new day.

A/N: I have no words for how hard this was to write. It was originally two chapters, and I cried through much of the second half for fairly obvious reasons. In writing fiction, you get really attached to characters, so it's really hard when they hurt this much. This is a place I was honestly afraid to go, though I knew it was going to a while back. I just wasn't sure how. But I still love it so much because the deeper we go, the more it means and the more power it holds when characters weather the struggle and get through everything together.