A/N I'm working on getting caught up with typing and wanted to go ahead and post this!

Christopher's bat hit the ball, sending it through the air.

Nathan cheered from the stands. "Run, Son!"

Christopher tossed the bat down and sprinted to first base. He kept one foot on it, as he saw the opposing team's left fielder just getting his hands on the ball.

Nathan yelled once more. "Keep going, Christopher!"

Christopher sprinted to second base, his foot already on it when the ball was caught by the player guarding it.

Nathan saw Christopher smile up at him, as the ball sailed from the hand of the second baseman back to the pitcher, the game continuing.

When his team mate hit the ball, Christopher ran for third base, then for home, touching the plate just in time.

The sun shone through the window in Laura's office, as she responded to Steve's last statement. "I'm glad to hear you've found the notebook I gave you useful again. Just writing things down can be very therapeutic, especially when they're difficult to talk about."

Steve thought of the words he'd written on the pages, the images and emotions he'd described. "I know I, uh, let you read it before. But I don't want you to right now. If that's okay?"

"That's perfectly fine, Steve. It's completely up to you."

Steve stood up, finding he needed to move around, like he had during their previous session, as if it helped keep the wheels of his mind turning. "You told me a few weeks ago that you've seen a lot of progress in me." He walked over to the window, still facing Laura, as he spoke. "What did you mean? What do you see?"

The night surrounded Nicholas and Clara, as they strolled toward the Randles' house.

Nicholas reached for Clara's hand, feeling the softness of her skin. "I thought it'd be a nice night for a walk."

Clara's eyes lingered on Nicholas' face, her heartbeat speeding up, as she discerned the desire in his gaze. "Oh. It is."

Their feet moved along the concrete path, a hint of moonlight shining down on them. Her heart fought for possession of his, her being vying for affection that would put her right when she most wanted to be.

Time carried Laura along with it, as she considered all of her sessions with Steve, going back to the beginning. "I remember when I first met you."

Steve waited for Laura to say more, but when she didn't continue, he recognized her tactic. "Me too. I didn't stick around long, did I? I did the same thing to you I was trying to do to everyone in my life." He smiled, blinking back the tears that sprang up. "Not that it ever even almost worked."

"You just found one answer to your question, Steve. You're not trying to push the people who love you away. You're, in fact, doing the opposite. You've pulled them closer."

"When I first came here, I felt like I deserved to hurt. So I thought no one should want to help me, or even that they couldn't."

"How about now?"

The eyes looked around Steve's room, fingers flipping on a light switch to get a better view.

Nicholas' voice called from his bedroom. "Clara!"

The fingers switched the light back off, leaving the boy's room in darkness.

The sun shone right in Steve's face, as he contemplated where he now stood with the shame that had once warped his perception of himself and the people in his life. "It's not like I feel good about what happened, but I guess I don't feel as bad about it either. I'm not convinced it was all my fault anymore, or that I'm somehow damaged forever. I know I didn't do anything that means I deserve the pain."

Laura watched Steve, seeing his expression change, able to imagine his train of thought, knowing him well after months of counseling. "And what do you think now about the people in your life wanting to be there for you and help you?"

"It makes me feel loved. And like I can never be alone." Steve looked out the window, then at Laura, his mind going back to all the times he'd truly opened up, talking about the memories of abuse and his intense emotions, giving them the voice they'd needed for so many years. "Letting my dad in, letting him see all that pain I've felt and having him share it with me, that's helped so much. Sodapop too. But it's even more than that with both of them. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"They've been the two constants in your life for a very long time. I know that means a lot to you."

"Yeah. They have. And it does. But I was thinking about how it's made me feel to be there for them too. Probably especially since after" Steve paused, remembering the times he'd struggled with wanting to hurt himself and the time he fully acted on the dangerous impulse. "after I overdosed."

"How does it make you feel to be there for them?"

The sheet and blanket lay rumpled at the foot of Nicholas' bed, the mattress now quiet in the aftermath of heat. Nothing separated the two bodies, skin touching skin, contented faces huddled together on a single pillow.

Nicholas' hand rested on Clara's shoulder, before he stroked down to her bare hip. "I'm so glad to be here with you. You're beautiful."

Clara put her hand over his, moving to make his fingers brush over her most intimate area that remained aroused. "I made you feel so good, didn't I?"

Nicholas couldn't help but moan, before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Clara's, desiring even more of what had made him feel so alive.

Clara leaned into the kiss, letting her fingers trail along Nicholas' chest, then down to his stomach. She pulled away and looked into his eyes, her heart shaking with glee to view the rawness there that shone with vulnerability and want. Her fingers moved lower, teasing him, before she began a path of kisses, starting on his stomach and moving down, her lips inching closer to great pleasure. "And I'm not even finished yet, my love."

Feet moved along the carpeted floor, going right into the sunlight's path, as Steve attempted to answer Laura's question, though he believed the truth transcended words. "Knowing I can be there for them, well, I guess it makes me feel like there's something I can do with this pain, besides suffer. I'm not trying to say it makes me feel good that my dad and Sodapop have hurt so much too cause it doesn't. I'd take that away from both of them if I could, but I obviously can't. And I don't know if I'm putting this the right way, but being there for them, it helps me see past the pain that's inside of me. It's like if I can listen to them or do and say whatever to try to make it better, that helps me heal too."

Laura's thoughts drifted back to Steve's question about his progress that had led their session in this direction. "So you've gone from feeling like you deserve to hurt to actively seeking out the help you need and trying to help those in your life who were also affected, though in different ways, by the circumstances of your past."

"Yeah. I guess I have."

"I see even more than that though, Steve. I know how you've struggled with being open about what happened to you, as well as how difficult it was for you to discuss certain thoughts and feelings. You've grown in being able to share and trust those in your life you know care about you, and I'm not only thinking of your dad or Sodapop when I say that."

The door slammed, and a little boy's voice called across the backyard. "Hi, Dad!"

Nicholas caught the football Steve threw his way. "Hey, you're getting good at that, Son!"

Steve ran up to his dad, his gaze wandering behind him to the figure he could see on the other side of the screen door. "Who's that?"

Nicholas looked back, smiling at Clara. "Son, there's someone I want you to meet."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Dad, I've met your girlfriend's before. You've brought them over."

"This is different, Steve. Come on out here, Clara."

Clara stepped outside, smiling as her eyes met Steve's. She held her hand out to him. "Hi, it's so good to finally meet you."

Steve took Clara's hand, giving it a quick shake, before he pulled his own hand away. "Um, it's good to meet you too." He turned back to Nicholas, reaching for the football. "I think I'm going to go play with Soda, Dad. I'll be home before dinner."

Nicholas ruffled Steve's hair. "That's fine, Son. Have fun."

Clara spoke up again. "Maybe I'll still be here when you get back, Steve, and we can all spend some time together."

Eyes blinked, as memories played back behind them, though Steve could find comfort in these, knowing Laura spoke the truth about how he'd grown in being able and willing to share, gaining strength from being open. "I know what you mean because they're not the only ones I'll talk to now."

Laura watched as Steve took his seat, able to see him relaxing, as he processed her answers to his question. "That takes a lot of courage. I hope you know that. Not just for you to share, but to listen to others too, especially what Samuel's told you about himself and Grace too. In hearing about you talking to them, I also see you seeking answers, trying to gain a better understanding of yourself and the past."

"Yeah. I guess that is what I've been doing. Mostly with talking to Grace about Clara and all. And maybe it helped her too to be able to talk about that and to know a little more about why it happened." Steve took a slow breath, imagining being in Grace's shoes, finding a bloody suicide scene, and wondering about the truth that led to such an outcome. "I know I would need that. I wasn't even there when Clara died, and I still need that."

Laura studied Steve's face, seeing his eyes close for several seconds at a time, his color seeming to grow pale. "Are you okay?"

Steve nodded his head, allowing his eyes to remain closed for another few seconds, before they opened again to look at Laura. "Yeah. I'm okay. Talking about that is still hard for me. It's kind of mostly why I took out the notebook again."

"Okay. Let's backtrack a little bit then. You told me a few minutes ago that being there for others helps you heal too. I know we've discussed a lot about recovery and what that means. But what do you believe it means to heal?"

Spaghetti noodles twisted around his fork, as Steve noticed Clara smiling at him. "So where'd you two meet anyway?"

Nicholas served himself another helping of spaghetti. "The grocery store. The one I used to work at."

Clara watched Steve, her own plate nearly finished, as she let herself get lost in the charm of this young boy. "So tell me what you like to do, Steve. I like your dad so much, and I truly want to know you too. You're his son, after all. If he's in my life, you will be too."

The answer didn't roll right off Steve's tongue, as he found it needed time to form. He turned Laura's question over and over in his mind, knowing his previous perceptions of healing now seemed flawed. "I think it means what we were talking about already, what you said about me pulling people closer. I think it means I'm stronger because I understand more, and I don't see myself as broken forever. I know healing doesn't mean nothing will bother me or hurt anymore because the pain just doesn't work like that, but it doesn't have to destroy me."

Laura fixed her gaze on Steve, seeing his eyes glistening, his tone one of reflective contemplation that told her his mind was cycling through the memories of the trauma he endured, as well as his own responses to its still very much present effects. "I think that's a good way to look at it, Steve. You're recognizing your progress, while also acknowledging how what you've experienced can still affect you."

"Cause I know it does, and I can't expect it not to. I mean, I couldn't go through abuse like that and it not change something inside me. I couldn't go through trying to kill myself and that not change me even more."

"Exactly. What you've been through changes you. It doesn't define you. I think you have a compassion for yourself that you haven't always had, and I'm glad to see it."

"Yeah. I think that kind of comes from listening to my dad and Sodapop. Samuel too. Not just them telling me nothing is my fault or things like that, but from hearing them talk about their own guilt and memories and stuff."

"You've been able to take the compassion you extend to others and also give some of it to yourself."

"Maybe that's part of healing too. It must be, right? And, really, just having people here for me, always making sure I know I'm loved, no matter what, that makes me see everything in a different way. So even when it all hurts so much or the flashbacks get bad or I feel like the pain can't ever get better," Steve blinked, tears on his eyelashes. "I know I can get through it."

Laura saw Steve's head bow at the same time a tear slid down each of his cheeks. "That's right. You absolutely can get through it. You've learned a lot about how to cope, even when you're overwhelmed."

Steve lifted his eyes, meeting Laura's gaze, voice steady despite the weight of emotions on his face. "I'm glad I survived." He looked toward the window, able to see the sky that was bathed in a clear blue, the daylight still at its peak of brightness. "I'm so glad to be alive."

The hammer tapped on the head of the nail, driving it further into the wall, as the sound echoed in Nicholas' ears, his hand wrapped around the hammer's handle.

"Oh. I didn't know what I was hearing."

Nicholas turned around, coming face to face with Steve. "Yeah. I'm just hanging up a couple of picture frames."

Steve saw the two framed photos Nicholas had out on his bed. One was of the two of them when Steve was almost eleven years old, the other of Nicholas and Rose. "I remember these."

Nicholas picked up the frame that held the photo of himself and Steve, cognizant of the time it had been taken, the line that divided before and after nearly visible to him. "I just thought I'd put them back up."

"Sure, Dad. You should." Steve watched Nicholas place the frame over the nail, his fingers not releasing it, though it was secure. He moved closer, seeing his dad's eyes were fixed on the photo in front of him, stillness enveloping him. "Dad?"

Nicholas blinked and shook his head, before letting go of the frame and making sure it was level. "We both look good in it, don't we?"

Steve smiled at the photo, as he slung an arm around Nicholas' shoulders. "Of course we do. And we look even better right now."

Fingers intertwined with each other, as Clara smiled at Nicholas, the heart ready to close in on one of its wants. "It's so lonely at my place lately. It makes me miss them."

Nicholas knew very little about Clara's past, not imagining she had much of one at all. "Miss who?"

"My Christopher and my Nathan. They were my world."

"You haven't told me about them."

"Nathan was the love of my life, and Christopher was my little boy." Clara sighed, sounding near tears. "I don't like talking about it though. It just makes me miss them more. So does being all alone at my little house."

Noting the grief in Clara's voice, Nicholas made an offer. "You could move in here. I'd love to have you with me. Steve likes you." He smiled, his hand squeezing hers. "And I think I could love you."

"Oh, Nicholas! Really? I'd love to live here. I'd love to be with you and with Steve everyday." Clara hugged Nicholas, her grip on him tight in anticipated victory. "It'll be amazing, and I'll never be lonely again."

Goosebumps sprang up on Nicholas' arms, the glass in his hand ice cold against his grip. He looked down at the liquid, wishing the tea had the biting taste of whiskey. But that sure didn't help with this before, he thought. It made it worse.

Nicholas put the glass down and turned off the stove burners, stirring the contents of each pot. "God, what do I do? How can I share something like this?" But if I keep it to myself, it'll swallow me whole, he thought. It'll destroy me this time.

A hand touched Steve's forehead, making his eyes open. "Hey, Dad."

Nicholas sat on the end of the bed and brushed his fingers through his son's hair. "How's your stomach?"

"Okay, I guess. The soup sort of helped. But I couldn't eat much of it."

"That's fine. You didn't have to. I just thought it could help a little bit to make you feel better."

Steve still pushed his head further into the pillow. "I still kind of feel like I could throw up."

Nicholas leaned down, pressing a kiss to Steve's forehead.

Steve couldn't help but grin. "You always treat me like a baby when I'm sick, Dad."

"Cause you're my son, and I want to take care of you."

"Clara really likes me, doesn't she?"

"Yes. She definitely does. Is that a good thing?"

"I guess so. She's nice enough."

Nicholas pulled Steve's blanket up, tucking it around him. "Good night, Son. I'll see you in the morning." He saw Steve's eyes close, then turned the light off on his way out, before venturing down the hall to the bedroom he now shared with Clara. He saw she had already climbed into the bed. "I think he feels better, but he should probably rest tomorrow too."

As Nicholas lie down beside her, Clara's hand found its way to his face. "I'm sure he'll be all right soon."

Nicholas put his hand over Clara's. "I hope so. I know he's a kid, and kids get sick, but it always bothers me. Even more so since I lost Rose."

"That makes sense, sweetheart." Clara leaned closer to kiss Nicholas on the lips, then laid her head on his chest.

Nicholas stroked Clara's shoulder, then moved his fingers over the soft silk of her nightgown.

Clara smiled at the touch, letting her own fingers glide from Nicholas' waist down to his thigh, before she kissed his neck, whispering in his ear. "I want you right now. Don't make me have to wait."

Laughter danced across the front yard, as Soda did a back flip off the porch, landing on his feet at first, only to fall back on his behind.

Steve plopped down on the grass next to him. "That was still pretty good. Even though you ended up landing on your ass."

Soda saw Darry watching at the window and waved to him. "Hey, big brother! I just ain't as graceful as you!"

Steve smirked, giving Soda shove. "Shoot, you ain't even as graceful as me."

Soda remained on the ground, leaning back on his elbows to breathe in the chilly late afternoon air, the smile still on his face. "I guess I just ain't an acrobat." He looked at Steve. "Hey, why don't you do a back flip, Stevie? I remember you were pretty good at it."

"Nah. I don't really feel much like it right now." Steve crossed his legs and brushed his fingers over the grass, as his eyes wandered to the porch, then back down to the ground. "Can I tell you something, man?"

"Of course."

"I know we've had a lot of, uh, sappy moments lately, and I swear I'm not trying to make another one..."

When Steve's thought trailed off, Soda sat up straighter. "That doesn't even matter. You can say whatever you need to say, buddy."

Steve's hands moved to his lap, one gripping the sleeve of his jacket. "I know I've told you before, but not since I-" He looked up at Soda. "Thank you for being my friend. My brother."

"Always, buddy. Like you said before, you know I got your back."

"I do. I know. But I wanted to tell you that. And just thanks for sticking with me even when I tried to push you away, for letting me talk to you about everything I have, and for never giving up on me. I know it's not been easy for you either cause of what you've told me, but I need you to know it means so much to me, and nothing I can say or do is enough, but-"

Soda put a hand on Steve's arm, interrupting the rambling thoughts. "I already know all of that, Stevie, and it is enough. So I'm just going to say you're welcome, and I know you'd do the same thing for me, man, cause that's what brothers do."

The comforter remained in place, covering Nicholas, as Clara slid off the mattress, her feet softly touching the carpet beside the bed.

Nicholas stirred in his sleep, turning over to his side, slumber keeping a firm hold over him.

Clara stood up, careful not to make a single sound, as she tip-toed out of the bedroom. She pulled the door closed, barely hearing it click. She padded down the hall to Steve's room and stepped inside.

Steve lie facing away from Clara, sound asleep with his blanket still tucked around him, just as Nicholas had left it.

Making sure the door was shut, Clara inched closer in the darkness and sat down on Steve's bed. She lie next to him, her head touching his.

Steve turned to his back, feeling fingers stroking his hair. He opened one eye to see Clara staring at him, as he mumbled his first thought, "Why are you in here again? Go away."

Clara didn't respond, only continuing to stroke Steve's hair.

Steve turned back over to his side to face away from Clara. His eyes closed, the silence allowing him to rest a little bit, though her presence remained an unwanted one.

Clara stayed on Steve's bed, smiling at him and leaning closer, so she could see his face. "You know, you do look like my Christopher. But you also look like my love, Nathan. If not for him, I'd still have Christopher." She could see Steve's eyes were still closed and lifted herself off the bed, before moving to the other side.

Steve remained still and silent, even when the mattress dipped down once more, indicating Clara was now in front of him.

Clara lie down beside Steve, her face close to his, making their foreheads touch. She slid the blanket off of him, then closed her eyes, while stroking his cheek, before she started allowing her hands to wander.

Steve's eyes didn't open, but tears formed at each of Clara's touches, fear making him freeze.

Clara's kissed Steve's head, the closeness making the darkest place within her deceptive heart sing with a cruel pleasure that only this measure of dominance could bring, as her hands slid beneath his pajamas.

Tears seeped onto Steve's cheeks, dripping onto the pillow, as Clara's touch went lower, rendering him powerless, so that all he could do was remind himself to keep breathing.

Fingers curled around the back porch railing, their grip tight, as Nicholas took rapid breaths. Dizziness melded with the sensation of unreality, while only small gasps of the fresh evening air were pulled into his lungs.

The back door opened and closed, then Nicholas heard Steve's voice calling to him. "Dad! What's wrong? What happened?"

Nicholas' head swam, the weight on his chest only allowing him to speak a short phrase. "Can't. Breathe."

Steve moved to Nicholas' side, taking his arm to guide him toward the porch steps. "Sit down, Dad. I think you're having a panic attack."

Nicholas did as he was told, his body not yet calmer, his breathing still too fast.

Steve stayed beside Nicholas, the concern he felt growing, even as he knew what to do to help. He took his dad's hand, keeping his voice as soothing as possible. "Dad, you're okay. You've helped me through this before. Try to breathe slow."

Nicholas tried to draw air in slowly, only to find he couldn't, all too easily resuming fast, shallow breaths. "Can't. Too hard."

Steve shifted so that he could reach for Nicholas' other hand, looking straight into his eyes. "You can. It passes." It scares me to see you like this, he thought. "Come on. Try again." Please breathe, Dad. Please.

Nicholas focused on Steve's hands that were clutching his own, squeezing them in return, the weight of panic only beginning to lift. "Sorry, Son. Sorry."

Steve leaned forward, letting his forehead touch Nicholas', as he held steady eye contact. "You're getting better. It's okay." You have to be okay, he thought. "Breathe with me, Dad." I need you to be okay.

Nicholas took a deep breath, just as Steve did, letting it out a few seconds later. He felt air begin to move into his lungs more easily and naturally, as they continued this pattern.

Steve kept his breaths steady, seeing Nicholas was calming down. He loosened the tight grip on his dad's hands, though he didn't let go. "See? You've got it, Dad." Thank God, he thought. "You can breathe." Because I never want to see you like that again.

Nicholas looked at Steve, feeling his whole body relax, as it recovered from the plight of anxiety. He rubbed his chest, taking one last intentionally deep breath. "I think I'm okay now. Just really tired."

Steve released Nicholas' hands, but didn't put much distance between them. "Yeah. They'll take a lot out of you. Do you know why that happened?"

Nicholas nodded, and his mouth opened, but it closed again, a silent response.

"It hasn't happened before, has it?"

"No. I know I've gotten close, but..."

"I won't push you into telling me anything, Dad. But I know it's something, or you wouldn't be getting all quiet when I ask."

Nicholas sighed, a hand coming up to rub his head. "You're right, Son. It's something that bothered me months ago, and me and you, we can talk about anything, but this... I just couldn't. I still can't. How can I tell anybody that I-" He sucked in a breath, an edge of the panic still present.

Steve touched Nicholas' shoulder. "So whatever it is, just don't right now. It's okay, Dad. You'll be able to talk when you're ready."

The bedroom door opened, and feet traveled back across the carpet, still careful to be silent.

Nicholas didn't move, his body in blissful slumber. He remained unaware, as Clara slid back into the bed beside him.

Clara pulled the comforter around herself, cuddling close to Nicholas. She felt a smile cross her face, as her eyes drifted shut, the twisted soul she harbored inside reveling in satisfaction.

A sensation resembling nausea closed around Nicholas' stomach, the smell of the soup he'd heated up doing nothing to ease the discomfort. He set the half-eaten bowl down on the coffee table, a shiver passing through him, accompanied by what he could only describe as a feeling of shame.

Warm water washed over the dishes in the sink, as Nicholas came up behind Clara and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Clara giggled, then shut the water off, shaking her hands dry, before she turned and kissed Nicholas on the lips. "Good morning."

Nicholas let his hands stroke Clara's back. "Good morning to you too. I just checked on Steve. He said he wasn't feeling as nauseous, but not hungry either."

"Yes. I made him some eggs, but he didn't seem to care for them or the orange juice I brought him."

"I hope he feels much better later. Like I said, I hate when he's sick."

Clara smiled at Nicholas, her hands rubbing his chest. "Oh. He will. He'll be just fine. And until he is, I'll be taking great care of him."

Nicholas put his hands over Clara's, holding them still. "I have to go, and you're making me really want to stay home."

Clara winked at him. "Well, maybe you should." She leaned closer, kissing his cheek, her voice dropping lower. "But I'll be here when you get back, and we'll have all night."

A pair of arms wrapped around Nicholas, the embrace enclosing him in comfort, despite the disturbing thoughts that were surfacing even more strongly than the first time. He gripped onto Steve, as the realizations brought pain that threatened to unravel the progress he'd made in forgiving himself.

Steve, recalling how Nicholas' face had looked, his expression like that of someone in physical pain, held onto his dad. "I know I said I wouldn't push you, but you're kind of freaking me out here. Please talk, Dad. Don't keep it inside."

Nicholas took a series of deep breaths, the words to speak on the tip of his tongue.

"And if you can't talk to me, that's okay. We can call Samuel. Or anybody else. Or maybe you could write it down. That's helped me."

"I'm sorry, Son. So sorry. If I'd known, I never- I mean, I can't believe I-"

"Dad, I have to be honest here. You're scaring me because we've talked about everything there is, about everything that's happened. So what could be left?" Even though Nicholas didn't try to pull away, Steve held him tighter, remembering how a hug had, at one time, led to the release of nearly all that was tormenting his own mind and heart.

"I know I've broken down in front of you so much, Son, and I've tried to let this go. Over and over, I've tried. But I can't."

Steve could hear the emotion in Nicholas' voice, knowing his dad was about to dissolve into tears. "But that's okay. It's okay for you to break down, Dad. It's hard for me, but I want to be here for you."

Nicholas turned his face into Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes. "It makes me sick, Son. Cause I- When she was abusing you-" He broke off, the self-hatred and regret nearly smothering his next words. "I was sleeping with her."

Steve cringed at the image the statement created, but didn't let go of Nicholas. "But you didn't know it was happening. It's not like you still did after you found out."

Nicholas squeezed Steve, grateful for the way his son looked at the admission. "But it still makes me feel like I betrayed you because we were-" Tears fell down Nicholas' face. "And at the same time, she-"

"You didn't betray me. Please don't even think that."

Nicholas' next words died on his lips, realizing the true depths of the way he was feeling had their roots in intimate details he couldn't reveal to his own flesh and blood.

"I knew you and Clara slept together, Dad. It's not something I ever thought about, but I knew." Steve pulled away from the hug and looked at Nicholas' face. "I also know that whatever went on didn't matter to you anymore once you found out the truth about what she was doing."

Nicholas drew in another deep breath, finding he feared another wave of panic could pull him under because there was no such simplicity to resolving the feelings in his heart. "It's not that I thought you didn't know. It's just- It's harder than what I'm telling you right now." Nicholas lifted a hand, wiping the tears that were still on his cheeks. "But you're my son, so there are some things I just can't say to you about this."

"I get it, Dad. I think I even understand too. But-" Steve's hand found its way to Nicholas', still seeking out the physical connection. "But what went on between you two, it doesn't mean anything. And you're not the one who abused me."

Nicholas nodded and squeezed Steve's hand, the words soothing him, as they quieted his emotions that had stirred up the anxiety.

"Please let it go, Dad. Forgive yourself for this too. I know it might not be that easy. So if you're struggling this much again, still come talk to me, even if you can't tell me all of it. I mean, I know it's different, but I do know what it's like when stuff keeps bothering you, like it could never stop. And maybe I'll never totally get rid of everything that hurts me, but it means a lot if I can help you through your pain too. I really think it helps me heal."

Lips pressed together in a tender kiss, as Vivian climbed into the bed beside Samuel. She started to switch off the lamp, then hesitated, the words coming from her mouth, before she could think them over anymore. "I want to have another baby."

Samuel froze, his head slowly moving back and forth. "Honey, I-I can't even think- I mean, I don't know what to say."

Vivian reached for Samuel's hand that rested on the blanket covering them. "Then, don't say anything yet. But I do. I've been thinking about it all the time."

The unquenchable craving seared Clara's very being, knowing she couldn't fulfill it. Tonight's plan had veered off course. He won't say anything, she told herself. He doesn't even know what I was talking about.

Nicholas came in from the backyard. "Steve and Soda sure left in a hurry, didn't they?"

Clara put a smile on her face, as Nicholas settled on the couch beside her. "They really did! I'm not sure why."

"Steve likes it over there. The Curtises are great people. They love him too. So I can't say I blame him."

"I like it when he's here with us though, and I thought he and Soda would stay here tonight, since he does go over there a lot. But I like Soda too. He's sweet."

"Yeah. He's a good kid. Steve will be back tomorrow, and Soda will be around, as always." Nicholas put his arm around Clara. "So it's just me and you for right now."

Clara put her head on Nicholas' shoulder, the smile never leaving her face, even as her gaze momentarily drifted down the hall to where Steve's bedroom was, her desires remaining. She tilted her head up to look at Nicholas. "I sure do enjoy being alone with you, my love. Even though I adore Steve more than you can ever know."

A tear landed on Samuel's pillow, as he looked at Vivian, who was in a sound slumber next to him. "God, I want to give her what she wants. She should be a mother."

Leaving his wife to rest, Samuel slid out of bed, realizing his thoughts were much too active to allow him any sleep. He went down the hall and into the doorway of Matthew's old room, unable to keep from picturing it as belonging to another child. He looked at the wooden chest, imagining another child's hands playing with the toys inside. He looked down at his own hands and arms, thinking of holding another child, another who would also be their flesh and blood, their son or daughter. But still not Matthew, Samuel thought. So what would that mean for the little boy they'd had to bury?

He moved forward and sat down beside the wooden chest, keeping the room in darkness, unable to bear even the possibility of light. "God, Vivian should be a mother. She always has been." He lifted the lid of the chest, able to make out the shapes of the toys within, the physical evidence of Matthew's existence. "Would it be okay with you, buddy?"

Samuel let the lid close, his hand on the edge of it. "She should be a mom. She never stopped." He leaned his head on the chest, touching the memories it held, as he whispered his most painful thought for only the God of creation to hear. "But should I be a dad?" He closed his eyes, picturing the God he loved and trusted hearing every one of his echoing internal questions: How could I deserve to care for a child again? Why would you even want to let me?

Drops of water fell from Steve's hair onto his back and shoulders, as he started to dry himself off. Remembering his dad's panic attack from earlier, he held the towel over his face, taking in a long, deep breath that cleansed him of the fear he'd felt in those moments.

Steve let out the breath, as the towel fell to the floor, not allowing his gaze to drift down to the tile, just the sight of it enough to draw him back to the time he'd been afraid he would stop breathing forever.

After he finished dressing himself, Steve opened the bathroom door and went into the hall, stopping only when he came to Nicholas' bedroom. He poked his head inside, expecting to see his dad sleeping.

Yet, despite the late hour, the bed was empty.