A/N : Writing this story is such a huge blessing to me right now! It and anyone reading are a bright spot in a week that's turning out to be very difficult. Thank you!

Nora watched Christopher shovel sand into the back of a toy truck, before turning to Nathan. "It's been a long time since I've even spoken to Clara."

Nathan saw his son move the truck forward, pushing it near a hole he'd dug. "That's one reason I thought I could bring Christopher here for a while."

"I think she's always going to hate me because of how things were. I hated myself back then. Jesse and I were both awful parents. We were awful people."

"I still can't get over how she acted, saying she loves Christopher and she wouldn't hurt him. And blaming Jesse?"

"She'll blame him for anything. I know I blamed him for a lot when Clara was a child, but I wasn't much better."

Nathan watched Christopher place some rocks in the hole, before beginning to cover them with sand. "That's no excuse for what she did though. I can't believe a mother doing that to her own little boy. There's something terribly wrong with Clara to even think of it." He saw his son finish burying the rocks, smoothing the sand over with a plastic shovel. "I hope he's going to be okay. It worries me to think of how he must be feeling, even though I can't begin to imagine.

"You did the best thing. You got him away from her." Nora thought of her daughter, as she stared at Christopher, her own mistakes as a mother crystal clear. "He knows you love him. He can see that, so he'll be all right."

Steve sat with one leg crossed over his lap, fingers twisting his shoe laces. "It was weird, but I don't know. It was kind of a good thing. Sometimes, I get afraid I'll do something again." He pulled on the string, making the lace knot undo itself. "And I can't if I'm just sitting there like that."

Laura watched Steve wrap the loose laces around his fingers. "Are you feeling nervous right now?"

"Kind of. I'm not sure why. But I know ever since I talked to Grace, it's like it's been harder to get words out."

"You told me earlier about the conversation with Grace. You said she told you a lot about what happened with Clara, that you asked her questions."

"Yeah. I don't think it's easy for her to talk about either. I wasn't even there and-" Steve retied the shoe lace, before letting his foot drop to the floor. "Is it okay if I stand up?"

"Of course it is, Steve."

Steve stood up, his feet pacing back and forth on the carpet in front of the window in Laura's office. "It's crazy, right? I had that flashback, then all this stuff in my head Friday night. Then, I had to be still. Now, I just can't be."

"It's not crazy at all. You're not always going to react the same way to everything you're feeling or thinking."

"Maybe it helped that my dad was hugging me, and Soda was holding onto my hand. Like anchors, you know? So all I had to do was just be."

Laura watched Steve move across the office again, then back, stopping right in front of the window. "I understand. Would you like to tell me more about what Grace told you?"

Steve faced the window and put both hands on the yellow curtains that hung over it, drawing them all the way open. "I never thought about bleeding to death. That sounds painful, and I wanted to get away from the pain."

"Did Clara bleed to death?"

"Yeah. She did. She took a knife and cut herself." Steve blinked his eyes rapidly, before clenching them shut. "I wasn't there, but it's like I can remember. Like I can see it."

"What is it exactly that you feel you can see?"

Steve opened his eyes, his hands holding onto the soft edges of the curtains. "Her body. Grace said she was on the bed. And there's blood on her. On a knife. All over the place."

"Is this what you were thinking about on Friday night too?"

"Yeah. I kind of said it once I could talk. Well, I said enough that I knew Soda and my dad would get it. But the flashback I had right before that- It's not what they would think. I mean, some of it was, but not all."

"Okay. Your flashbacks usually consist of memories of the abuse. What was different about this one?"

Steve let go of the curtains, his hands moving up to rub his temples. "Sometimes, it felt like I was there with Clara, but then, other times, I felt like I was back in my car, taking all those pills. Or waiting to die, then panicking because I realized what I'd just done."

"Do you believe that learning details of Clara's death brings back the memories of your own suicide attempt?"

"It wasn't like I'd forgotten anyway because it hasn't even been long, but yeah. Then, I think about how she must've felt because I know how I felt. I know how scared I got." Steve turned around to face Laura, a hand gripping the edge of the window sill. "But there's kind of other stuff too that I've been thinking about again. It doesn't have anything to do with any of this though."

"What else have you been thinking about, Steve? Maybe I can help you understand how it could be related to what you're going through now."

"I told you about Dallas and Johnny."

"Yes. You told me about your friends."

"And Johnny stabbing that guy in the park when he tried to drown Ponyboy."

"Right."

"Then, Johnny dying in the hospital and Dallas getting shot down in the street."

"I remember. I know that was all very traumatic for you as well. Sometimes, elements of distressing experiences connect to one another in our minds. Even when they're so different."

"Yeah, I just didn't expect it, you know? But thinking about Clara dying makes me think about them dying too. Especially Dallas because I saw it happen. I saw the blood. We all did."

"You've experienced a lot of grief. In differing forms, but nonetheless."

Steve walked back to his chair, sitting down, then letting his eyes drop to the floor. "Then, I'll think about my mom and about Soda's parents. And I wonder if there's more than one reason I got scared of losing my dad."

"I could certainly see how you'd be afraid of losing another person who is important to you. When something has happened before, it makes it seem much more possible."

"Soda was even more scared about me and how I've been because of pretty much the same thing. We were talking about how we both know how it feels to lose someone and can't imagine going through it again. I hate that I came so close to putting him and my dad through that."

"It sounds like whichever trauma or loss is on your mind, you circle back to your suicide attempt."

"I guess I do. I always end up thinking about it. It's hard not to feel guilty sometimes too. I know you told me I was hurting and all, but still. I do believe you though. It's kind of like how I know that Clara's death wasn't my fault."

"Our feelings don't always line up with logical facts. As we've talked about before, trauma will distort your perceptions. Do you think hearing what happened from Grace helped you with that guilt?"

"I guess maybe it did because at least I don't just have this image of Clara, you know, touching me, then dying right after. I know what happened in between. I wasn't there, so it's not like I had the knife and- She did that." Steve lifted his eyes to look at Laura, his jumble of conflicting emotions right at the surface. "Once, I told my dad I did it too. I hurt myself too. He said it's not the same."

"What do you think he meant by that?"

"Well, I guess because he's my dad, and she hurt me. I used to think he did, but now, I know he didn't feel sad about her death at all when he heard about it. I guess he said that too because he knows I wouldn't have the pain and everything I do if she hadn't abused me."

"I would imagine your dad looks at the reasons you harmed yourself and sees that much differently. Of course, because you're his son, but also because anyone would have a more compassionate response to you, knowing the entire situation."

"Samuel said pretty much the same thing as my dad. He told me it's different because of what Clara did to me. She made herself hurt. My dad and Grace think she even abused her own kid, and Soda told me yesterday that he remembers hearing her on the phone once talking about how she'd never hurt her own son. He's been feeling bad for not saying anything about it. Like he could've figured it out, then stopped it from happening to me if he'd told somebody what she was saying."

"What did you tell him?"

"That he still couldn't have known. Clara's the only one who did anything wrong. I hate that there's so much guilt because of her. My dad's been so worried he shouldn't have let me talk to Grace. But he wasn't wrong. I told him that too. I don't want him blaming himself for everything."

"Very much like he doesn't want you to blame yourself for anything you've been through."

"Yeah, and it's been kind of hard sometimes to say certain things to him because I know he'll feel bad. Like I'm not sure I could tell him about the memories from when I overdosed being like they are." Steve turned his head to look at the window, before standing once more to walk over to it. "This isn't the same thing as that, but talking to my dad about how Clara's death happened... It's not that I can't. He'll listen to anything, and he's so understanding, no matter what I say. It just bugs me."

"What does?"

"It's not like I expect him to feel the way I do. I know he wasn't sad to hear how bad it was." Steve lifted one hand to touch the window, the warmth of daylight on his fingers, the sun in his eyes. "He told me it's okay to feel like I do. But still, it's sort of hard for me anyway when I can see how the way he feels about it is so different. It makes me wish I could be like that and not care either."

Soda gripped the dish towel he held, his nails digging into the material so hard, it made his fingers ache. "They got no right to be talking about him like that! Not at all. Damn it. They don't know what he's been through."

Pony closed the notebook he had out on the table. "I'm sorry, Soda. Maybe I shouldn't have told you."

Soda threw the towel in the sink, running a hand through his hair. "No, Pone. I knew about it anyway. I just didn't know exactly what got said."

"I felt bad for not saying something to them, you know? Cause Steve's part of our gang. Then, I wondered if he knew, and I got worried because I know he's been going through a lot, even if I don't know exactly what."

"If I'd have been there, I might've broken somebody's nose. Man, I think I know why Steve didn't tell me all of it now."

"Is he okay, Soda?"

"He's doing all right, Pony. At least most of the time, I think."

"But you still get worried, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do. Cause Steve has been going through a lot. You're sure right about that."

Patricia ran the brush through Evie's hair. "It's nice you get to go out tonight."

Evie reached for the hair pins on the bathroom counter and handed them to her friend. "Yeah. My parents don't mind, as long as my homework's done, and it's not late. Kenneth has some stuff to do this weekend, so it was better to have a date tonight."

"I'm glad you're going out with him. I didn't know if you'd want to date anyone else yet."

"Well, it's not anything serious, you know. I guess I like him, but he's just a guy."

Patricia secured the pins in Evie's hair, leaving only some of the strands loose down her back. "Still. I know you were with Steve for a while."

"Yeah. I miss him too. I can't help it. I don't like what people are saying about us either. I was kind of hoping Steve wouldn't hear any of it, but he did."

"I'm not saying it's right or anything, but I think people just wonder because you and Steve always seemed so good together. So they assume something they can't see must've gone wrong."

"Well, it did. But not like what they're talking about. Just because I won't get into our personal stuff, they make up a story."

"I guess because Steve's acted strange sometimes too, and no one knows why. I mean, I haven't seen it. It's just what I heard."

"He's been through some things lately. Things that caused us to have problems. But, really, it wasn't about our relationship at all."

"I know you well enough and heard plenty about Steve to know you two cared about each other. Still do. But I think people can be short-sighted. I know I was when you told me he broke up with you."

"What do you mean?"

"The first thing I thought was it must be because of you kissing Tommy or even because there was someone else."

"There's so much more to a relationship than that sort of stuff though. I think I've learned that. It doesn't work just because you're not trying to be with somebody else. It doesn't work just because you care about each other either."

"Exactly. The things people are saying about what went on with you two, they sound like it has to be all about sex since you seemed good otherwise. Like a happy couple. But it's not that simple, is it?"

"No. It's really not. There's a lot more stuff in life that can change a relationship." Evie touched one of the pins in her hair, her eyes looking at her reflection in the mirror. "Or even make it have to end."

Samuel had just finished bringing in the bags of groceries when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in."

The door opened, and Grace looked inside. "Hi, Samuel."

Samuel opened a kitchen cabinet, as he began to empty one of the bags. "Oh. Hi, Grace. If you came to see Vivian, she'll be back a little later."

Grace stepped inside, one hand touching the rose pendant around her neck. "I was looking for you, actually. I just wondered... How is Steve doing?"

"He's okay. You saw him at church yesterday."

"I know. But I didn't want to bring anything up. So I didn't even ask. But I was worried."

"He's been talking to his dad and even to me about what you told him. But he's doing all right."

"Nicholas told me after we talked that he thought it was a shock to Steve. It looked that way too. I remember right after I told him how Clara died, he was so tense and the look on his face..." Grace let the thought hang, as he hand dropped away from the rose pendant. "It was like he was in pain. And it hurt me to see it."

The wind blew, making Steve have to hold onto the sheet of paper that was full of math equations, stopping it from blowing away. As he did, he closed his eyes, the chill touching his cheeks and traveling into his lungs, while he breathed in the moving air. He then looked back down at the paper, using the pencil in his hand to write out the solution to the last problem on the page.

Once he was finished, Steve closed his math book, leaving his homework between the pages. "I know I did it to myself this time, God. But please help me anyway."

Soda lifted his mug of hot chocolate, letting it clink against Steve's. "Cheers, man."

Steve rolled his eyes, as he smiled. "Yeah. Cheers to the two tough guys, who hug and bawl our eyes out in a church."

Soda grinned back at his friend. "Yep. You better believe we're the toughest guys around."

Steve watched Soda start to sip his drink, before taking a swallow of his own. "So are you really okay now?"

"Yeah. I think I got it all out, you know? Don't worry about me, Stevie. I'm okay."

"All right. I had to check. Cause I know how it feels to keep stuff all bottled up. It's not necessarily easy even after you do start talking."

"Well, it wasn't all completely bottled up, but you're right. And I wasn't going to feel better either until I talked to you." Soda looked down at the swirling hot chocolate. "This is making me want a beer."

"Sorry. I just wanted to ask. We can talk about something else. Or we could go get a beer. I mean, I can't drink now, but I'd go with you."

"No. I didn't mean it like that. I meant I'm thinking about something Pony told me a little while ago." Soda looked at Steve, a question coming to him. "What do you mean you can't drink now? You mean cause of how you have too much before?"

"Nah. It's not that. Just because of my medicine. I'm not supposed to. Maybe one wouldn't hurt, but I don't exactly want to take any chances."

"No. I wouldn't want you to either, man. What could happen if you did drink?"

"The medicine made me drowsy when I first started taking it, and my doctor told me alcohol could make that worse."

"Oh. It doesn't make you drowsy now, does it?"

"No. Not anymore. It did again for a little bit when he increased the dose, but I started taking it at night. So it was okay for me to be sleepy then."

"Oh." Soda held the mug of hot chocolate that was only slightly warm, willing the heat to soothe the thoughts going through his mind. "Yeah. You really shouldn't take any chances with that at all."

"So what did Pony tell you?"

"Huh?"

"You said you were thinking about something Pony told you."

"Oh. Damn, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that. I wasn't sure if I should bring it up."

"What, Sodapop? Bring what up?"

"The thing TwoBit told you. About what he heard. Pony overheard some shit, then he felt bad for not saying anything to stand up for you, and he was worried about you too."

"Damn it." Steve felt the heat of humiliation, as he covered his face with both hands, the mug of hot chocolate forgotten. "I wanted to forget about that. It's embarrassing, man. It's one thing to know anyone talks about us going out or breaking up, but our private business? And it's worse because of what actually did happen."

"I know, buddy. I'm sorry. It ain't right."

"I mean, I know I have a lot of issues and all, but- And even though I was abused, it's not like-" Steve's hands clenched into fists. "There's nothing like that wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you at all, man. They don't know a damn thing about what they're saying."

"Why was Pony worried about me?"

"He was telling me because he didn't know if you knew. He was worried you'd be upset about it because you've been going through a lot."

"Kid still doesn't know much, does he?"

"No. Of course not, Stevie. I wouldn't tell him anything you might not want me to."

"I know that. I was just thinking out loud. It's kind of weird for him to be worried about me, huh?"

"Not really. I know you worried about him too."

"Mostly because of you."

"Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, buddy."

Nicholas removed one of Steve's pills, then placed the cap on the bottle. He twisted it on, securing it, before putting the medication back in the shoe box that was tucked away in a corner on the shelf of his closet.

He put the lid on the shoe box, making sure it remained hidden from view, as he closed the closet door. Taking the single pill and the glass of water from atop his dresser, Nicholas went into Steve's bedroom. "Hey, Son. I brought you your medicine."

Steve stopped flipping through the magazine in his lap and glanced at the clock. "It's kind of early, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess it is. Not like you have to take it yet though." Nicholas put the glass of water and the pill on Steve's dresser. "But it's here when you're ready."

"Oh. Ok." Steve looked back down at the magazine, flipping to the next page. He tried to focus on the words and pictures, but his eyes lifted up to see Nicholas, who lingered near the doorway. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you still standing there like that?"

Nicholas let out a sigh. "I don't know. I guess I'm just wondering about you, and I don't know how to say it."

Steve grinned a little bit, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the magazine's pages. "I think you just did."

Nicholas put a hand in his hair, closing his eyes, as another sigh left him. "I don't know why this is so hard."

Steve closed the magazine, letting it slide onto the bed. "Dad, what's wrong?"

Nicholas thought about Steve's words from the past week, settling on a simple question. "Are you still thinking about it a lot?"

Steve looked down at the bed covers, the blue of his comforter drawing him in, as he responded to his dad. "Am I still thinking about what a lot?"

Nicholas moved to sit down in front of Steve, a courage rising in him. "Clara's death. You haven't really said anything else about it since Friday night."

Steve nodded, his eyes still on the comforter, the verse on Rose's nearby quilt flitting through his mind. "Not as much maybe, but yeah. Can we not do this, Dad? Please?"

Nicholas could hear the vulnerability in Steve's voice, much like he had the Friday night before, the sound bringing him back to the moments when his son had still been trying to bring himself back into the present and, at the same time, express what was going on in his mind. "Okay. It's okay, Son. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I sounded like a little kid the other night, didn't I? You know, when I came to your room later?"

"You sounded like you needed someone to be there for you. That's all."

"Yeah. I did. I meant what I said at church. I really felt God's presence, Dad. I mean, I guess I can't explain how I know. But I do. It helped me feel calmer somehow, and I sure needed that. It's like he was there with me as much as you were."

The canned drink landed with a thud, and Steve reached through the machine's door to retrieve it. "I don't know, man. I don't think I'm really up for any dates at all, especially a double date. It's..." He popped open the can. "complicated."

TwoBit leaned on the vending machine, studying Steve. "All right. Just thought I'd ask. Hey, whatever happened with Soda and that one girl?"

"You mean Suzie? Eh, I don't think he's talked to her anymore in a while."

"Maybe I'll ask him then. Kathy doesn't like to go out just the two of us anymore."

"Why not?"

"I think she likes having another girl around to talk to when she gets tired of me."

Soda lifted a tire off the top of the stack and rolled it toward a Chevy in the middle of the garage.

Steve spoke from the doorway. "Hey, man."

Soda slid the jack under the Chevy. "Hey. I just have to finish getting this tire on here. Did Mr. Coleman already leave?"

"Yeah. He just did." Steve touched his pocket, realizing it was empty. "I'll be right back. I think I left my keys in the car."

Soda turned his attention back to the jack and the old tire he needed to replace. "All right, buddy."

Steve left the garage, walking back out to the DX parking lot. He glanced toward the gas pumps, as he went in the direction of his car, stopping beside it. He opened up the Ford's passenger side door and leaned in to see his keys were in the center between the front seats.

As Steve reached for them, a moment flashed through his mind, making him start to sweat, the concrete of the parking lot suddenly the gravel of his driveway. His fingers closed around the keys, the jagged metal that was cold to his shaky touch becoming an empty medication bottle.

Steve stayed there, the seconds ticking slowly by. "Just take the keys and go. That's over. You lived through it."

He picked the keys up and dropped down into the seat, leaning back against it, the door still open. "What am I supposed to do here, God?"

But I know that answer, Steve thought. I know I can't bury these memories. That won't work this time either. He stared through the windshield, the white clouds on the other side of the glass taking on a deep red hue that mirrored the color in his thoughts. He blinked, making the image of blood flee from his immediate consciousness. I can't lock them up and throw away the key.

Nicholas set the clean forks in a section of the silverware drawer, before picking up the spoons he'd just dried. "I'm not sure, Son. I don't remember either."

Steve rinsed off his plate, before dropping it into the sink. "You usually remember all kinds of stuff from when I was a kid. You're like a human catalog or something."

"Hey, I'm getting old. Maybe something is out of order."

Steve felt a smile cross his face, then it disappeared, as he looked in the open silverware drawer. "Dad?"

Nicholas set the last spoon in the stack, before closing the drawer. "What?"

"Did you hide the knives or something?"

Nicholas released his grip on the drawer's handle, putting his hand on the Steve's shoulder. "Yes. I did, Son."

"When? Is it because- Did you do it after I talked to Grace?"

"No. It's been a while. I didn't know if you'd noticed."

"I didn't. Not til just now." Steve's eyes moved away from the drawer to look at Nicholas, as he grinned at him. "But I don't spend as much time in the kitchen as you do."

Nicholas grinned back at his son. "No. I guess you don't." He squeezed Steve's shoulder, before letting go of him. "I got really worried, and putting away anything I thought could be dangerous was something to do when I felt like there wasn't a lot I could do to keep you safe."

"Oh. But I really didn't, Dad. I never even thought-" Steve looked down at the tile floor, suddenly conscious of Nicholas' gaze that remained on him. "I just want you to know I never wanted to do that."

"I do know, Son. But I also know how fast things can change."

"Yeah. I guess I know that too."

Nicholas leaned to meet Steve's eyes. "It's okay. I'm not trying to say I think you'll hurt yourself again. I'm only saying I want to protect you."

"Yeah. I get that. I mean, I do still have the thoughts sometimes so..."

Nicholas slung an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Hey, you want to watch some TV with me? I think there's a movie on. We can see which one."

Steve looked up at Nicholas. "Sure, Dad. We can do that."

"And I think there's ice cream in the freezer. We can watch the movie and eat. Or we can take out those board games that are shoved in the hall closet."

A laugh started to bubble out of Steve, as an image popped into his mind. "Yeah, then we can do each other's hair and makeup. We'll have a real tuff time."

Nicholas chuckled, the sound of Steve's laughter making him nearly forget the so recent moments of seriousness. "Then, we'll have a pillow fight or two."

Steve let out a breath of relief, the burdens lifted for the time being. "And I'll win because, like you said, you're getting old and out of order."

Jesse watched his daughter packing a suitcase. "Where do you think you're going?"

Clara held up a dress, before folding it, putting it neatly in a stack of clothes. "Away from here."

"Don't go looking for Nathan and Christopher, Clara. I'm warning you."

Clara smiled, as she went toward her father. "You think I'm still scared of you?"

"You ought to be after what you did to my grandson. You should be ashamed of yourself. I know I'm ashamed of you."

Clara laughed, standing mere inches from Jesse, her gaze steady on him. "Of me? You're ashamed of me?"

"Damn right I am. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all is wrong with me. I love my son. So, say what you will. I'm going to find him. My mother didn't walk away from you when she should have. But I am now. You don't have power over me anymore."

The credits played on the television screen, as Steve looked over at Nicholas, who was fast asleep against the arm of the couch, soft snores coming from his mouth. "Dad, you sleep like a damn log when you're not so worried about me."

Steve turned his gaze to the coffee table, where they'd left their bowls and spoons, the remnants of vanilla ice cream still present. Beside them was the box from the game of Yahtzee they had played earlier, the score papers and set of five dice on top of it, along with the shaker cup.

Steve reached for two of the dice. Cupping his hands around them, he shook them, making the marked sides tumble around. He then held still and closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers remaining closed around the pair of dice.

The sound of his dad's snoring still in his ear and the television now quiet, Steve opened his eyes again. He started to loosen his grasp, then looked up, searching at the same time he surrendered, letting the dice roll out of his hands.