A/N: Thanks again for reading and for the reviews :)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sunday evening.

"It's been a real good afternoon, Tim, but don't you think you ought to go home sometime soon?"

We've spent the last couple of hours lying here on Leigh's bed with her in my arms, talking mostly, or fooling around... a whole lot of fooling around. So yeah, it sure has been a real good afternoon—up until this moment.

"Why? You sick of me already?" Try to sound casual, like I'm not the slightest bit worried over what she's going to say next, not entirely sure I succeed on that front.

"Course not." Leigh shakes her head, smiling. But it's the way she kisses me that really leaves me with no doubts over how she's feeling, makes me realise I'm an idiot for thinking she's anything but happy to be with me again.

"So what's the problem? You worried about your old man coming back?"

"A little bit."

"Yeah? Don't suppose I'm his favourite person after—" Only just manage to stop myself before I say any more.

Could kick myself for saying anything at all, as she sits up, pulls her knees up under her chin, frowns a little.

"No, that's not it. I mean, don't get me wrong, he'd really lose it if he walked in and found us here, like this. But he doesn't know that you... that we... had that falling out. At the time I had too much else to worry about, and telling him didn't seem all that important when he was so sick. Then after that, I didn't think there was any point in getting him all wound up over something that was already done. Especially as I wasn't quite ready to give up on you, not completely." She smiles again, blushes a little at her admission, kisses me another time. "No, it's just I was wondering, won't anyone be worried about you? If nobody's seen you or heard from you in all this time?"

Can't help but laugh at that thought. "Doubt that, sweetheart, they're more likely to be disappointed that I've come back at all." And I hold her a little closer, trail my fingers across soft warm skin, hope she lets me stay even a few more minutes. "So how much time do you think we've got before he's home?"

~oOo~

I finally drag myself away from Leigh, but my next stop still isn't home.

Instead, I take a slight detour in the hope of speaking to the guys, find them easy enough, hanging out over at Simmonds' place—him messing with his car, Ryan stood watching with a beer in his hand—and it's Lang who spots me first.

"Evening, Tim, been wondering where you'd got to."

"Why, what's on your mind, Ryan?"

"Nothing." Ryan shrugs. "So where did you end up last night?"

"Nowhere in particular."

He looks me over, smirking as he notices my torn shirt. "Jesus, Tim, so even after all that trouble last night, you still manage to score? You gonna tell us who it is that's good enough to keep you busy the whole day, if you haven't so much as made it home yet?"

"Nobody you need to know about." I'm trying to not sound bothered, like it was nothing special, like she isn't the one good thing salvaged out of what's been a damn nightmare of a week. 'Cause I've no intention of sharing any of that with anyone. "Haven't come here to talk about last night, I'm here to talk business, we've got shit we need to take care of."

Spend the next half hour or so talking through some thoughts I've had on Myers and the pair of them seem to agree it should work. I'm not keen to bring anyone else in on this right now, don't exactly trust none of the new guys enough yet, figure it's safer to stick with the people I know best for this.

"So when are you thinking of doing it, Tim?" Danny asks.

"Sooner rather than later, before he gets a chance to do anything else to another one of us. Sometime in the next week or so, for sure. Gives us time to sort out all the details, go over it a couple more times."

"Sounds fair, I'll see if I can get that information you need," offers Ryan.

"Right, that's settled then." And although I'd rather be going back to Leigh, it seems I've finally got no choice but to go home, can't put it off any longer. "So think it over, make sure we haven't missed anything that could likely be a problem. Any issues, any flaws you find in the plan, anything at all about it that's bothering you—no matter how small—then I need to know before we do it. This has got to be done right, there ain't no room for mistakes. Meet back here, same time tomorrow and we'll go over it again."

~oOo~

My head's starting to pound again, could do with a bit of peace and some time to myself, a few more pain pills, maybe even some sleep. Except as soon as I walk in the door I know that's not going to happen, can already hear Angela's voice echoing out from the kitchen, and she don't sound happy.

"Everything alright in here?"

Angela turns round, glares at me. "Fucking hell, Tim, where on earth have you been?"

"Out. And what do you care? And maybe you need to watch your mouth Angela, ain't exactly attractive is it?"

"God, you're unbelievable. You want to know why I'm so damn interested? Because I've been stuck here all day with her, asking me every two minutes where you are." She points over at Ma, who still hasn't said anything, doesn't seem to have even noticed me. "I mean, look at her, I couldn't exactly leave her on her own, could I?"

Stepping over the broken china in the doorway, I pull out a chair and sit alongside my mother. She's sitting at the kitchen table same as any other day, only today her cigarette isn't in her hand, it's resting ignored on the ashtray, burning slowly down to the filter. Pill jars are all lined up to the side of it, and she sits staring off into the distance, perfectly still aside from the fact her hands are moving, twisting her rings repeatedly round and round.

"Hey, Ma." No response. Turn back to Angela who's still bitching at me for not being around. "Jesus, Ange, I get the message so why don't you quit it. I'm sorry I wasn't around, but I had something important I had to take care of."

"More important than letting us know you're okay?" She asks, scowling at me while I grin back at her, and apparently she's getting almost as good at reading me as Curly. "Oh God, you've been off with some girl, haven't you?"

"Like I said, what I do ain't any of your concern, Angela."

"But that is where you've been, isn't it? Screwing around with some broad all day? Leaving me to deal with Ma?"

Try to ignore her comments, guide the conversation away from her opinions on what she thinks I've been doing and back round to the situation here. "What's been going on to make her like this?"

"Christ, it's been shit all day, ever since Harry surfaced anyways."

"Why, what's that loser done now?" Wonder what the hell has happened to make things this bad or if Ma's actually hearing a word we're saying, 'cause it's not like her to let it go if one of us dares say something less than complimentary about Harry. "How many of these has she taken?" I ask, picking up the nearest bottle, check the label and shake it a little. "Ma? How many did you take?"

"I don't know, she don't exactly share that information, does she?" snaps Angela. "Harry heard on the radio about some kid getting shot, comes in here laughing, asking Ma if she thought it was you. Then he goes off on one, telling her it'd be a blessing if it was because then you wouldn't be around to give him no bother, and how you're even more lousy than Dad ever was. Ma got real mad at that, actually threw a cup across the room at him, nearly hit him too." She pauses, laughs a little at the recollection. "Kind of wish it had hit him after what he'd said. Clearly it ain't you though, so did you hear what happened?"

"It was Winston, held up some store." Still don't seem real, that he won't ever be hanging around getting on my nerves or trying to wind me up no more, won't be in Buck's trying to scrounge a beer off of me and bragging over his latest exploits. Concentrate instead on something I can change. "So what happened here, is she alright? Did he hit her? Or you?"

"Nah, thought he was going to, but he stormed off out when I interrupted them, no prizes for guessing where he's gone. Doubt we'll see him again any time soon, least not 'til he runs out of money anyways."

"So how long has she been like this?"

"I'm not sure, was just glad when she stopped crying. Must have told her a thousand times that it can't have been you, 'cause otherwise the cops would have been here by now. Before that she kept going on and on about you, couldn't seem to let it go once she'd got the idea in her head. Spoke some about Curly, about Dad for a while too. Even said some nice things to me. Then out the blue being real horrible again and snapping at me. Could barely follow half of what she was saying, but whatever she said she always ended up back talking about you." She shakes her head. "Jesus, Tim, I don't know what's got into her. I haven't ever seen her this bad before, have you?"

Think back to all those times from years ago that Angela's lucky enough not to remember, that she's better off not ever knowing about, that I wish I could forget. Shrug at my sister like it's no big deal. "Yeah, once or twice maybe. Why don't you go back to your room or something? I'll sit with her for a while."

And my sister don't need telling again, just hugs me real quick, whispers a hasty thank you, before disappearing out the door without so much as a second glance at Ma.

Now we're alone, I turn my attention back to our mother. "Ma? You okay?" Dumb question really, 'cause it's obvious she isn't, only I can't think of anything else to say to her right now. "Ma?"

Finally, the sound of my voice registers with her and she stares over at me, like she's seen a ghost, and she's unexpectedly up on her feet now, unsteady and disoriented, rests her hand on her shoulder, like she might fall at any second.

"You're here? Ted? How are you here?" "No, Ma, it's me, Tim." Talking loud and slow, I finally seem to get through to her a little.

"Tim?" And she mutters to herself, repeating the same things over and over, leaves me unsure if she even knows who I am right now. Though I guess she must have taken quite a few of her pills, judging by the fact she still hasn't started yelling at me yet.

"Yeah, it's me, I'm here, Ma. You seem tired though, why don't you go get some rest?"

Putting an arm across her shoulders, I guide her out the room, because the only way to get her to do anything on days like this is to tell her. And for once she's surprisingly compliant; until she sits on the edge the bed and talks and talks at me, clings on to my arm so I can't leave, like her life depends on me being there.

"... You're such a good boy, Tim, always taking care of me, all these years, since he's been gone. Don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

Bite back the urge to make some sarcastic reply to that. 'Cause even now after all these years, after all the times I've been here before, there's still some small part of me that wants to believe that she might actually mean it. Except I know she won't remember a damn word of it by the morning, and that tomorrow she'll be back to yelling and bitching and criticising me, blaming me for all that's wrong in this house. Almost wish she was shouting now, 'cause I don't know that listening to that isn't easier to handle than all this.

"Look, Ma, why don't you try to sleep, okay? I ain't going nowhere, I promise."