At first, Chris took it as an encouraging sign that Vin hadn't taken another shower, and then he got a look into his eyes. Definitely not good. What was it – despair? – misery? – hopelessness? Whatever it was, Chris didn't like it.

"How're you doing?" he asked, as they sat down for breakfast. Vin shrugged and didn't seem inclined to answer, then it was as though a light went on.

"I'm okay. Tired. My back hurts. You know." He shrugged again, and smiled at Mary when she passed him the basket of bread.

"Sleeping in those deck chairs." Chris agreed. He accepted the bread from Vin, and handed him the bowl of scrambled eggs. "I guess we're lucky it didn't rain again." But a few minutes later, Chris flashed a glance at Vin again, and the light had gone off, and the despair had returned.

Vin picked at the food on his plate for awhile, and managed to eat barely a third of it. Finally he gave up and set his fork down.

"I'm sorry Mary. Don't mean to waste your food – just not real hungry."

Chris looked across the table to his wife. She had a sad expression on her face, looking at Vin who wasn't looking at her, and he worried that she was about to offer Vin a sympathetic answer. He didn't think that would do Vin any good.

"Well, you know she's more used to feeding Buck." Chris spoke before Mary could. "It's an automatic reaction to cook so much food." Mary shot him a slightly disapproving look, but Vin lifted his head.

"Not too shabby yourself there, y'know." His voice was as lifeless as his smile.

"Just more of you to love honey." Mary told Chris. But the lift in her tone didn't match the sad look that didn't leave her eyes. "At least I just keep telling myself that…"

Chris was going to give her a – forced – lighthearted response, but Vin pushed his chair back and stood up.

"I'm just gonna go brush my teeth and…and…whatever… before we head out." He started to pick up his plate, but Mary insisted he leave it for her, and he nodded, and trudged out of the room to the staircase.

When she could be reasonably sure Vin was out of earshot, Mary said:

"He looks worse today. Do you think he should go to work?"

"I have to go to work, and I don't want to leave him here by himself." Chris avoided saying that Vin didn't want to stay by himself either.

"Well…my mother is coming over with Billy later. Vin likes my mother."

"I can't leave him with a babysitter Mary. How would that make him feel?"

"You'll be 'babysitting' him at work, won't you?"

"That's different – he'll be working, he's gotta help me get through the mess with James. He'll be busy, he'll have something to do other than just stare at the walls and think about what happened to him…"

*/*/*/*

Take the toothbrush out of the holder in the wall.

Take the toothpaste out of the cabinet on the wall.

Turn on the water.

Open the toothpaste.

Vin's hands shook as his brain patiently transmitted to them each step in the process of brushing his teeth.

Put the toothbrush under the water.

Put toothpaste on the toothbrush.

Put the cap back on the toothpaste.

Hell, his whole body was shaking. The thought of going out into the world, of leaving this house, of leaving his room, scared him sick. There'd be questions and stares and people he wouldn't be able to avoid.

Put the toothpaste back in the cabinet on the wall.

Brush teeth.

He might even see them out there.

He gagged on the thought, and on the action of brushing his teeth. He spit and retched toothpaste foam and bile into the sink. His bruised muscles and cracked ribs cramped and spasmed in rebellion, and the pain tore up his backbone. Even his eyes hurt.

The whole episode was blessedly brief, and when it ended, he staggered backward a little, to sit unsteadily on the edge of the tub. He wrapped his arms around his aching ribs, with his toothbrush still death gripped in his hand, and rocked slightly against the pain.

He couldn't go out, he knew he couldn't go out there into the world again. He didn't want to leave the house, didn't want to leave his room, didn't want to leave the bathroom if he didn't absolutely have to.

But then his mind followed that thought through – if he didn't leave the house, he'd be all alone when Chris and Mary went to work. Or Chris would stay home too – out of concern, out of friendship.

Maybe out of pity.

Vin pushed the pain aside and stood up again. He rinsed the toothbrush and set it back in the holder, rinsed his mouth with a handful of cold water, washed his face – and went back downstairs to face the day.

*/*/*/*

"You okay over there?" Chris asked, when they were about halfway to St. Michael's.

"Yeah."

"You don't look too good."

"Well don't go getting all high on yourself just 'cause Mary chose you over every other guy wanted to marry her…"

"You know what I mean." Chris insisted. Vin wanted to snap back 'no I don't' but he only shrugged.

"I'm okay."

"You let me know how long you want to stay."

"I'm okay."

*/*/*/*

By the time they got to St. Michael's University, Vin wished he could throw up; maybe it would ease the solid mass of fear twisting inside of him. Chris pulled his truck into the parking space marked with the sign 'Parking for Chris Larabee only. All others will be remembered fondly.' Vin welcomed the smell of fresh air and cut grass that blew in as he opened the passenger door. He welcomed more the relatively few people walking nearby. He wondered how fast he could make it into the building, and how close he could stick to Chris while he did it.

"I am not looking forward to this day." Chris said, as he stepped down out of the truck, and came around to Vin.

"I'm looking forward to this day being over."

"Vin…" Chris put his hand up to stop him. "I mean it – you tell me the instant you don't want to stay here."

"That's easy." Vin answered evenly. "It'll be the instant I see JD."

"Don't worry – I see him first, you won't recognize him."

to be continued