Tim backed off after the powderpuff game. I was relieved, to say the least. The attention on me went away and I was my happy self again. I even found myself dabbling in film photography again. I liked digital photography, but developing film was a soothing experience. Tyra and Julie got sick of it pretty quick, but it didn't stop me from carrying my camera around at school.

It embarrassed me when the yearbook club asked if I could go take some photos of football practice for them. They knew I wasn't part of their club but the yearbook was low on photographers, so I begrudgingly agreed.

My lens focused on Coach Taylor when he had something to say to his team. Next, I focused on the players as they maneuvered through training courses and plays. I got a great shot of Matt throwing the ball downfield that I would have to give Julie later. I tried getting photos of Smash in action, but he turned into a ham in front of the lens. Coach was not happy about it. I moved to the other side of the field away from Smash and Coach's frustration.

Coach called Tim over right as I got on that side. Swallowing my pride, I took a few shots of Tim listening to Coach. I didn't miss the half smile he tried hiding by looking at his feet. I almost fell over when I snapped another shot right as Tim looked at me. I thought he was finished talking to Coach and was going to run back on the field. I was very wrong. He glanced my way with a charming smile before joining his teammates. I turned on my heel as soon as Coach Taylor looked at me. I didn't want to be a distraction for his players anymore. I left him a written apology before going home.

One of the few things I knew about my parents was that they cared enough to meet my artistic needs. In the basement, they had a darkroom installed for me. It was my own private closet of silence.

I was hanging up my film in the drying cabinet when the doorbell rang through the speaker in the room. I blindly looked for the intercom button to tell whomever it was I'd be up in a minute. I was not expecting Tim at my front door looking like he went through Hell.

"What happened?" He had a busted lip, a black eye starting to form up, and a few scratches on his face. "Please tell me you didn't get into a fight."

"Okay, I won't." He teetered on his feet and I frowned. I thought he stopped drinking.

"Come in if you can even walk straight."

He did, his steps unsteady. Tim brushed his hair from his face to get a better look at the chandelier.

"No, no. Looking up with have you on your ass." I pulled him out of the foyer and into the kitchen. I forced him to sit down while I got him an ice pack. "Why'd you come here, Tim?"

"I thought you might be the only person not pissed off at me."

I leaned against the counter. "You're hurt. I would be a bitch if I ignored you when you clearly need some help."

Tim let his head fall on the counter. He was different sitting in front of me. He looked on the verge of tears before his hair covered his face. I couldn't keep my hand from resting on his head. He didn't move.

"What happened, Tim?"

And so he explained from under his hair. My hand stayed put, unmoving but an ever-present reminder that I listened.

Going to the bar where he hustled that guy wasn't his smartest idea. He deserved a good punch for it, although the guy could have let up a little. But the shit with his dad was a tall topper to the day.

"Are you gonna bring the camera back tonight?"

"Probably shouldn't since I'm drunk."

"Oh my God, please tell me you didn't drive." I was on my way to check when he grabbed my hand. His grip was gentle and strong at once.

"I walked here. I'm not that stupid."

"You never were stupid. But I'm pretty sure you've driven to school drunk."

He sighed. "Not this time."

My hand was still grasped in his and I could tell he had no intention of letting go. "Do you need a place to stay tonight? We've got plenty of space."

He took a deep breath and sat up. "Nah."

"I really would feel better if ya didn't walk back like this."

"Call Billy then."

"Can you please just accept my help here?" I finally got my hand free. "You're in no shape to be walkin' home and for once, I think you should avoid the talkin' you'll get from Billy."

"He already talked to me."

"Yeah, and he'll do it again. I don't want to get a call from him tomorrow sayin' he needs help cleanin' up from another fight you two had."

Tim didn't say anything. He watched me through half-lidded eyes a moment before nodding. A wave of relief washed over me.

I grabbed a couple of waters from the fridge before urging Tim to his feet.

It was a long walk downstairs. I steadied Tim a few too many times on the steps, which slowed our progress. Although I was annoyed with him from the powderpuff game, it made my heart ache to see his drunk ass struggle.

"The basement is cooler, which should help. Drink these waters before you crash and if you're gonna be sick, this door here is the bathroom. All the rooms have their own, so no one has to see you in this state."

"You plannin' on having a friend over?" Tim plopped down on the bed. His eyes shut until I tossed a water bottle at him.

"No, but I don't feel like watchin' you stumble around." I turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Remember to finish both of those before sleeping, Tim. Goodnight."

He mumbled a quick thanks as I walked away.

When noon came around the next day and Tim still wasn't awake, I brought him some Ibprophen, water, and some crackers. I slipped into his room, glancing over to see if he was still breathing. Satisfied that he was, I left the items and closed the door. I locked myself in my dark room.

My film was dry, so I cut it into segments and put it in a plastic film leaflet. I held them up to the light before circling the negatives I wanted to print. Some of them would get a few extra prints for gift giving or because I wanted multiples.

Each image I developed turned out better than I thought they would. I had a photo of Coach Taylor shouting at his team that looked crisp for film. It really showed the dedication of Coach. My photo of Matt was also looked great. I printed two of that one, hanging the second print separate from the others.

I overexposed a few photos when I took them, so I attempted to fix the blown out areas by blocking the parts of the image exposed to the light during the first light exposure. It helped a little but wasn't quite the quality I wanted. I hung the second print up anyway.

When I came to the last negatives, there was a knock on the door. I was just exposing the paper to light, so it'd be a minute.

"Hang on." I placed the blank paper into the developer and watched Tim's cheeky smile fade into the paper. Once It was finished, I dunked it into the stop bath for a few seconds. I put away my paper and anything else sensitive to light before moving the image into the last bath. I hung it up before finally opening the door.

Tim peeked in as I slipped out. "What are you doin' in there? Why's the light red?"

I held a finger up. "First, how are ya feeling?" He shrugged, shoving one of the crackers I gave him into his mouth. "Well, you're eating something, so I'll take that as a good sign." I put my bangs behind my ear. "I'm developing photos for the yearbook. I'm working with things that can't be exposed to light, so the bulb is red to prevent that."

He nodded. Tim didn't seem too interested, but there was still some curiosity.

"Finish whatever crackers ya have left and I'll show ya. I've got a couple more negatives left. Just no food or drink in there."

Tim revealed he ate the last cracker, so I let him follow me inside.

"How do you see anything?" he asked once the outside light was gone.

"Your eyes will adjust. Watch out for the photos I've already finished, please."

Tim paused to focus on what I already produced. "You're pretty good."

"Not really." I pulled out the last strip of negatives and grabbed a piece of paper. "Ya gonna come watch this or not?"

"Yes, ma'am." Tim stood next to me and I started explaining what I was going to do.

I flipped the switch on the machine, letting the negative fill the page. I avoided looking at him because the only negatives I had left were of him. And it was so freaking quiet while he watched. I flipped the light back off.

"Where'd the picture go?"

"Hang on, hang on. Come over here." I brought the paper over to the developer and let it sink into the bath. The image started to appear as soon as the chemicals touched it. "This paper is light sensitive, so when I put the negative in the slot over there, the light imprinted the image on the blank paper. Cool, huh?"

"You sure you're not a witch or somethin'?"

I put the image in the stop bath and chuckled. "I'd be the saddest witch there is. I can't even make a quarter disappear."

"Then what do you call that?" Tim had yet to stop staring at the photo even after I moved it to the last bath.

"Science, Riggins. The chemicals in the bath react with the chemicals in the paper to print the image. I'm only here to move the paper around. It's so easy a football player can do it."

And so I had Tim develop the last few photos, showing him how long to expose the paper and what to do if certain areas could use more light exposure. I wasn't expecting Tim to continue showing interest after we finished the last negative.

He laughed when it started developing in the bath. "I didn't think you'd keep this one."

I peered over his shoulder to see a photo of him in his football gear looking right at the lens with that smile of his. "It's a good photo even though you scared the shit outta me. Coach Taylor gave me the scariest look, too."

Tim laughed and carefully moved it to the next bin. I was happy to see him care about my art and treat it as such. Tim Riggins was a constant surprise.

"I expect yearbook will put that photo on a page of its own. The ladies love a good football player close-up." I put the paper back into its drawer and moved some photos into the drying cabinet, turning the fan on. "Same with Saracen and Smash's photos."

"Can I have one of these?"

"Sure. I printed two of that one, so I'll bring it to you when it's dry." I watched Tim hang up the last photo for me. "Not bad for a first time darkroom user."

"It wasn't too hard." Tim leaned back against the counter while I made sure my light sensitive items were shut away. He blinked several times after I turned the light on.

"Maybe I'll teach you how to use a camera next." I tried not to study the bruise on his face. I almost forgot about it. "Speaking of, when are you gonna bring over the video camera? Do you need a ride?"

"You drive?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't want the attention. People stare a lot when you're a high schooler driving a BMW."

Tim whistled. "Your parents sure love you."

I snorted. "More like it's an insurance policy to keep me from trashing the house while they're gone. They don't know me very well. They think I'm all trouble like you."

"I'm surprised they know who I am if they're never here."

"Everyone knows who you are, Riggins." I opened the darkroom door. "Let's go bring that camera back to Coach Taylor, okay?"

Tim grabbed the camera from his truck, which I scolded him for leaving electronics in the cold. I didn't stop explaining why it was harmful until we pulled up to the Taylors' house and Tim hopped out. He seemed upset again, whether from my annoying voice or from the reminder of his dad, I didn't know.

Coach opened the door and his face shifted into concern when he noticed Tim's face. Tim handed the camera over and turned back toward my car when it appeared Coach invited him inside. I waved at Coach before Tim climbed back into the passenger seat.

I pulled away at Tim's quiet request. He didn't tell me where to go next, so I drove him over to our school's football field. I stayed in the car and let Tim walk around by himself. I felt he needed a little time alone. The field was an attempt to give him a comfortable place to think. I always preferred being in an area I knew well if I needed to step away. The sun was setting by the time he came back, asking if I could take him home.

He muttered a quiet thank you before climbing out of my car and trudging up the drive. I stuck my head out my window and grabbed his attention.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to find me, okay? I'd like to think there's some sort of friendship here now."

"Sounds good, Barton." And he went inside.

The following Monday, I sought Tim out at school. I was surprised to see him at his locker putting books in his bag. I grinned and leaned against the locker beside his.

"Mornin', Riggins."

He looked at me and returned a smaller smile. His eyes looked at what was in my hands.

I handed it to him. "Here's that picture you wanted."

He took it and studied what I captured. My heart warmed when he took down some random photo of a rally girl and put his picture up instead. Tim shut the locker and looked down at me.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I'd lose it at home and the guys will bug me about it if I put it in my football locker." Tim shrugged and pulled his backpack higher on his shoulder. "Plus if we're tryin' to be friends, I should show my support."

"I appreciate it, Tim," I said. "Guess I better start sportin' your number with Matt's at games then."

He chuckled. "Damn right, Barton."

"I guess I'll see ya later, Riggins," I said after a girl stared me down. "Don't be late for class." I stepped around him, but his voice stopped me.

"Hey, Barton." I turned. "You gonna put that last picture up somewhere?"

I blinked. I knew he was talking about that picture of him. "Maybe. Why?"

The smirk. "It was for you, not the yearbook."

Rolling my eyes, I turned away and walked toward my class. "Buh bye, Tim!"

Little did he know, I went to CVS over the weekend to get wallet-sized photos for my locker. One may have been that very photo that I taped inside that morning. I made a note to never let Tim near my locker.

I feel like I should apologize for the high chance of Tim getting out of character. I watched the series once and couldn't resist writing for Tim. I gladly accept suggestions to better this story even though it is already written out. I can use them when I get a chance to edit! Thank you all so much for reading! ~S. M. Graham