A/N: This part contains language that is a bit harsher than might be heard on the show.
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Shannon ran around her room, throwing her clothes all around the floor, looking for something to wear. "Shannon" Marcie said, entering. "My God... what are you doing here?"

"Looking for something to wear," Shannon said. "Do I look OK? I look horrible. I know I look horrible."

Marcie giggled. "Shannon, you look fine." she said. "You look fine, what's the matter, do you have a date or something?" she teased. Shannon walked out of the room and headed downstairs. "You do?" Marcie smiled. "Shannon, you have a date. Who? Who are you going out with?"

"It's dinner." Shannon said.

"OK... spill," Marcie smiled as the bell rang. She went to answer the door, swinging it inward. Who is he...Ronnie." Ron stood in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

Shannon smiled, seeing him. "I'm here for Shannon."

"Shan..."

"We're getting dinner," Shannon smiled. "Ready to go?"

Marcie's eyes widened. "Yeah," Ron said. "I'll be there in a second, OK?" He waited as Shannon went out to the car, looking at Marcie.

"Ronnie," Marcie said. "You and Shannon?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm taking her to dinner."

"Shannon?" Marcie was still in shock. "Ronnie, she's almost ten years younger than you."

"Oh don't give me that, Marcie," Ron said. "Michael is older than you and I didn't have anything to say about that."

"Michael is not that much older than me." she said. "Not ten years."

"I really am not having this conversation with you, Marc. Who I date... really is none of your business and you have... no say in it. I'm going to dinner."

"Ronnie..." Marcie said as Ron turned from her and stepped out of the cottage. "Ron!" She sighed, watching him get into the car with Shannon, driving away.

>>>>>>

Mark checked his watch, waiting as every minute seemed to click by slower than the one before. Nick had grown very silent in the last hour and Mark didn't really know what to make of it. He got up, passing Nick a water bottle.

"I don't want the freaking water," Nick said. "How much longer do I have to stay in here?"

"Until it's all out of your system. Just until it's all out."

"Yeah, well it's out." Nick said. "I want to get out of here. That's it, I'm cured, open the door."

"I don't have a key?" he said. "I told you that when we started. We're locked in here, Nick."

"That's bull," he said. "Open the door and let me out!" Mark was terrified, but stood his ground. "You can't keep me in here."

"I can try" Mark said. "And I'm going to. So you scream and yell and you can trash this whole room if you have to, but you're not getting out and I'm not opening this door."

"Why are you doing this?" Nick's mood changed so suddenly. "Mark, why... are you doing this to me?" He sunk back on his bed.

"You're sick." he said "You're sick, Nick. I want to help you. You're gonna be OK, you can do this I know you can." Mark sat on the edge of Nick's bed. "How about um... I told you about me. What about you? Tell me about you, Nick. Anything." He hoped that it would at least keep his mind off of the drugs.

"There's nothing..." Nick said.

"Come on, Nicky," Mark said. "There has to be something..."

"Don't call me that," Nick said quickly. "Don't call me that. My Dad calls me that, I hate it." Nick shook his head. "It's all I ever heard. 'You gotta go win one for the team, Nicky. This is what you were meant to do, Nicky. Don't you let me down, Nicky.' My whole life. Even when I played peewee, even then if the team lost, it was my fault. 'Why didn't you run with the ball, Nicky? What are you a little girl? What are you a little faggot, Nicky? Is that what you are, a faggot? Maybe you should be a cheerleader, because you sure as hell can't play football.' And I was gonna show him. I practiced for hours and hours and I made quarterback my freshman year in High School. And every college wanted me. They wanted me to play ball for their school. But my Dad came to LU and I had something to prove. That I was better than him. That I could do what he couldn't do. That I was good. I was good enough to go pro. And I was gonna show him. I was gonna play ball. I wouldn't have to be stuck living in New York working in my old man's garage rotating tires and changing oil. I was gonna show him that I wasn't some fairy queer and that I could play ball."

"What about you?" Mark said "What do you want? Is this what you want?"

"I always loved playing football." he said "Even when my Dad was on my back about it. I remember when I was a kid... when I just started playing, my mom used to come to watch me play." He laughed a little. "She actually came to watch me get tackled. I was five. The jersey was too big, it covered my knees. I think I tripped on it once or twice but... she was always so proud of me. No matter what she was always so proud." Nick paused, wiping his eyes. "And then one day... it was a Saturday, it was raining. I mean really raining. I um... I woke up and... I came down for breakfast and... nobody was there. The table was empty and I asked my Dad, I said....'Dad, where's Mom' and he didn't move from his chair, he was reading his paper and he said... 'Your mom's not here, go get dressed, you're gonna be late for practice.' He told me like she wasn't home, like she had gone out to the store on the corner. It's not until I get to practice, all the coaches looking at me, one came up to me and asked me... if I was OK, if I should sit the next few out. I was five. I was five years old and I had to find out that my mother was dead from my coach and not my own father."

"I'm sorry, Nick" Mark said

He sniffled. "And when I went home and asked my Dad... and he finally told me, I cried. I cried so hard and you know what he said to me? He said 'Jesus, Nicky, stop crying like a girl. People see you crying like that and they're gonna think I'm raising a faggot.' I was five. I was five years old and my mother died and he was worried about people thinking I was queer. He was always like that. Always, my whole entire life. I had to go through High School with a gorgeous girl on my arm or I was gay. If I didn't boast about scoring with all the cheerleaders, I was gay. I was always just a little faggot to him, until the colleges came wanting to recruit me. Then all of a sudden he was proud. And look at me now." Nick said. "Trying to prove something to him. You know what..." he looked at Mark. "I have nothing to prove. I have nothing to prove to him. Not about what I'm capable of. Because I know what I'm capable of." Nick paused. "And another thing..."

Mark was caught completely off guard as Nick came towards him, pressing their lips together. It was powerful, Mark was overwhelmed, but soon relaxed himself in shock. Shock of something that he had never thought possible.