TOMMY

What in the hell was that all about? Somehow I feel like there's more to it than just not messing up Jason's papers from work or Dar supposedly letting a squirrel in the house. Then again, ever since Zedd tried to use that little loophole in his promise the night before the reunion, I find that I'm phrasing myself and listening to what he says a little more carefully so that he can't do it again. Granted, there's not much going on that requires either of us to be that specific, but still.

And really, why would Hayley feel it necessary to even say something like that? After all, it's not like I would have any interest in Jason's cases from work… My train of thought suddenly switches tracks. Ever since my 'disappearance', Jason's primary case was - me. Finding me, making sure that I was okay, doing what he could to help build the case against Big John and the others. Which means that - all these papers I've been working on top of are about me and rehab.

No, Tommy, don't do it. You already know more than you want to about that place. Don't go looking for trouble when there really doesn't have to be. You're good, you've got Zedd, soon you'll have a new job helping with his business, you and Dar are getting along finally, the kids are safe and moving on with their own lives, everything is good, so just accept that and let it be.

Moving to grab another item from the shelf behind me, I pause, glancing back at the stack of files under the box I'm packing one more time. I shouldn't. I already decided, I should just let it go. That's the smart thing to do. Just move on and let it go. Still, curiosity and the need to know is what drives a scientist. Damn it. Making my decision, I move the box and the newspaper I was using to wrap things. It doesn't take long to figure out which file is mine. It's the thickest and right on top. I hadn't paid the label any attention before, but now that I'm actually looking for it, it's pretty obvious now. T.O.-R.C. Tommy Oliver - Rehab Center.

Last chance, Tommy. If you put it down now, nothing changes. If you open it, you might find out things you don't want to know. But - what have they been holding back, not telling me 'for my own good'? Put it down and nothing changes. You can pretend you never even saw the file - don't even know it exists. Let them all keep 'protecting' me. Or - I can put my big boy pants on and find out what's in here and deal with it.

Come on, Oliver. Quit waffling and make a decision. Look or don't but stop fence sitting. Knowing that my indecision is caused by fear of what I'll find out makes me a little nervous and I know that only makes it all the more critical that I decide now before Zedd feels it through the bond and comes to stop me as I know he will. No, I need to do this. I need the closure. I steel myself as I open the folder and begin to read.