A/N: This story is back from the dead, yay! Thanks for waiting so patiently for this next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Thirteen: Rise and Shine

Brian sighed and closed his copy of Sister Carrie, which he had balanced on his knees. He had started the book at around 2 A.M., just after he'd finished Silas Marner, the second book on his British Literature reading list. Sister Carrie was the first book on his American Literature reading list, and at the time he'd thought that he was mixing it up a bit by changing over to the other list. However, he soon found out that both books were pretty much about the same thing: people in love with money. After a couple of hours of reading, he was tempted to skip ahead and see if Carrie's story ended up as happily as Silas's did, but the British seemed to be more interested in happy endings than the American realists did, so he had figured that he already knew the answer to that question. Besides, skipping ahead felt too much like cheating.

Brian glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It was 6:03, which meant that it was 7:03 in Boston. Brian took his wallet off of the nightstand and pulled out a phone card. He dialed the number he knew by heart, then leaned back against the headboard as it rang.

She picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." He paused. "I mean, it's Brian."

Rebecca laughed. "I know your name, silly. What are you doing?"

Brian glanced down at the book sitting next to him on the bed. "Reading."

"Why are you up so early? What time is it over there? Six o'clock?"

Brian cringed. He'd never told his girlfriend about his odd sleeping habits and had made up excuses whenever she asked why he was having trouble sleeping. He'd never told her that it had become a regular thing, mainly because he knew that it would worry her and that she'd want him to see a doctor to get on some kind of medication that would help him get more sleep. The problem was that he needed those extra hours to get stuff done for his classes, and a doctor could ruin all of that. So, he lied.

"Oh, I just woke up early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep," he said. "I guess I'm just worried or whatever…you know, about being here."

He could hear Rebecca rustling around, probably getting ready for work. "How is everything going?" she asked.

Brian sighed. "I don't know. Bad, I guess."

"What happened?"

Brian thought back to the previous evening's dinner, when he and Claire had done all of the talking and Allison and Andy had just sat there, picking at their food, hardly looking up from their plates. Then there was Bender, who hardly said two words before he was out the door again. "Everybody's being really quiet. Andy and Allison…they're just sitting there. And Bender was…well, I don't know what's going on with him. He was only here for a few minutes before he left. I haven't talked to him at all."

Rebecca let that sink in for a moment before she spoke. "So, they all showed up?"

Brian blinked. "Yeah."

"Well, weren't you afraid that they wouldn't?"

Brian paused. "Yeah, I was."

"So, that's good, right?"

Brian let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I don't know. Everyone's acting so weird."

"But they came."

Brian was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he cleared his throat. "I wish you were here," he said quietly.

Rebecca let out a little breath, and he could almost see her smiling. "What are you saying, you can't survive without me for three or four days?"

Yes. The answer came swiftly, without any pause for thought. He looked down at the quilt and picked up Sister Carrie, running his thumb along the edge of the spine. "No."

"You're not?" she asked, her voice teasing. "Cause that's what it sounds like."

"No," he said again, unable to keep the smile off of his face. He let out a deep breath and let a few seconds pass before changing the subject. "When is your shift?"

"Eight o'clock."

Brian glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Well, you should go then," he said reluctantly.

"You can call me tonight if you want. Or tomorrow morning. Let me know how things are going."

Brian nodded. "Yeah, okay. I will. Call you, I mean."

"Everything's going to be fine."

Brian sighed. "Yeah, I know."

"Okay, well, I'll talk to you later." She paused. "I love you."

Brian's stomach fluttered painfully at the words. "I love you, too," he said quietly.

At about eight o'clock on Tuesday morning, Claire woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her bedroom door. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. "Come in."

The door cracked open, and Sandra stuck her head in. "I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a Mr. Peterson on the phone for you. He said it was important."

Claire sighed. The funeral director. "Tell him I'll be there in a minute."

Sandra nodded and closed the door. Claire threw the sheets back and stepped out of bed. She grabbed her robe from the chair next to the door, pulled it on, and went downstairs.

"Hello?"

"Miss Standish? This is Alfred Peterson from Woodlake Funeral Home."

Claire rubbed a piece of sleep from the corner of her eye. "Yes, Mr. Peterson. What can I do for you?"

"I'm terribly sorry to be calling so early, but I was wondering if you'd had a chance to collect your thoughts and come up with a few things for the minister."

Claire blinked. "The minister?"

"Yes, for the service. Memories, poems, verses. Things like that."

Claire paused. "Oh. You mean…"

"About your mother."

Claire nodded. "Right." She took a deep breath and rubbed her eye with the tips of her fingers. "Do I need to speak with him?"

Mr. Peterson hesitated. "Well, that's generally how it works, but if you're busy, then you could just write them down and drop them off at the funeral home. I'll make sure he gets them."

Claire let out a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted to do was spend time alone with someone that she hardly knew, talking about her mother, who was dead. "That would be better. Thank you."

"Of course. You can just drop them by my office. Reverend Coughlin is going to stop by before lunchtime, so I can give it to him then."

Claire nodded. "Alright, I can have them for you by then."

"Wonderful. I'll see you later, Miss Standish."

"Thank you." Claire hung up the phone and settled back on the couch. She sat there for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers she need. Finally, she stood up and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee.

Bender woke up on Tuesday morning with the sun in his eyes. He blinked a few times, then turned away, burying his face in the couch cushion he'd been using as a pillow. It smelled like stale potato chips and beer. He sighed and sat upright on the sofa.

The first thing he did was pee. There was only one bathroom in the whole apartment, and it was cluttered with dirty towels and underwear, empty bottles of shampoo and cigarettes, rusty shaving cream cans, and three different kinds of hair gel. Bender picked up a carton of cigarettes, hoping to find a stick that C.J. had forgotten about, but it was empty.

Bender went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. There were empty beer cans on the kitchen counter and on the coffee table in the living room, but he didn't stop to clean them up. Instead, he found a lighter and a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of a jacket that C.J. had left on a chair in the living room and went outside.

He sat on the front step and smoked, alternating between drags on the cigarette and sips from the can of beer that was sitting on the step next to him. The sun was in his eyes, but he didn't care. He watched the cars drive past, left and right, and tried to wake up.

He'd been sitting there for about fifteen minutes when a red Honda Prelude pulled into the parking spot in front of the building. The driver, a tall, thin man wearing a red t-shirt and a pair of jeans, jumped out of the car, locked the door and started walking towards C.J.'s apartment.

"Hey," he said as he approached.

Bender nodded in greeting.

The guy nodded back. "Is C.J. here?"

"He's asleep."

"Right." The guy paused for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Finally he said, "Bender?"

Bender frowned. "Yeah?"

The man grinned. "Dude, it's Isaac."

"Isaac?" Bender echoed. He squinted and put a hand up to shade his eyes against the sun. And sure enough, it was him. He'd cut his hair and shaved his beard, but otherwise he looked exactly the same. "Hey."

Isaac cocked an eyebrow. "Didn't recognize me, man? How many of those have you had, anyway?" he asked, motioning towards Bender's beer can.

Bender rolled his eyes, but couldn't help that the corners of his mouth were curling up into a smile. "Not enough, if I can still see your ugly face."

Isaac grinned. "Fucker. So, what are you doin' here? I haven't seen you in forever."

Bender nodded. "Been a long time," he confirmed.

Isaac nodded. "So, you just here visiting?"

Bender shrugged and blew a puff of cigarette smoke off to the side. "Something like that."

"What have you been up to?"

Bender paused. "Work, mostly."

"You're still in Chicago, right?"

Bender nodded. "Still in Chicago," he echoed.

Isaac chuckled. "Better than this shit hole."

Bender let out a noncommittal grunt and took another drag from his cigarette.

Isaac ran a hand over the tips of his short, spiky hair and laughed. "So, that's why you never visit, huh? Too busy livin' the good life over in Chicago to come visit your lowlife friends from the neighborhood. I see how it is," he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Bender smirked, but didn't say anything. He hadn't been back in Shermer for almost a year, and before that it had been nearly six months. C.J. often visited him in Chicago, but Bender tried to avoid going home if he didn't have to. On the few occasions when he did come back for a visit, he rarely left C.J.'s apartment and spent most of his time in front of the television, drinking beers and listening to C.J. make fun of the commercials.

"Anyway, I gotta go to work," said Isaac, glancing down at his watch. "You gonna be around for a while?"

Bender shrugged. "A couple days maybe."

Isaac nodded. "We'll hang out before you leave." He nodded in the direction of C.J.'s pack of cigarettes. "Those yours?"

Bender smirked. "No."

Isaac grinned and reached forward, taking one of the sticks from the pack and sliding it behind his ear. "Don't tell C.J."

Bender tried his best to look innocent. "About what?"

Isaac chuckled and started walking back to his car. "Later, man."

Bender nodded in reply, and Isaac waved, then got in his car and backed out of the parking spot.

When he was safely out of sight, Bender let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Shit," he murmured.

Claire stared down at the piece of paper in front of her and let out a deep sigh. She'd been staring at the paper for the last thirty minutes, and the page was just as blank now as it was when she'd started. She tapped her pencil against the kitchen counter and glanced over her shoulder, where she had a clear view of the hallway that led to her father's office.

Claire wanted to speak to her father before she gave Mr. Peterson the list of memories for her mother's funeral, but Sandra told her that he'd left for the office at about seven o'clock that morning. Claire had tried calling him at work, but no one had answered. More than likely, he was in a meeting with a client or one of the vice presidents.

Claire climbed down from the stool and started walking upstairs, pencil and paper in hand. She passed by her own bedroom and approached the door next to hers. She hesitated for a moment, then knocked firmly.

A few seconds passed before she heard anything at all. There was some rustling, then silence once more. Claire knocked again, louder this time.

Inside the room, someone groaned, and she could hear them rustling around again. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Hey," said Claire.

Daniel rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Hey," he replied.

Claire offered a wan, apologetic smile. "Sorry to wake you up so early, but I, uh…I need your help."

Daniel frowned. "Sure. With what?"

"Um…" She sighed. "Can I come in?"

He nodded and moved aside so that she could step into the room. She took a moment to look around, glancing at the posters on the wall and the pictures on his bookshelf. She motioned towards a poster of 'Jaws', which he'd had on his wall since he was in high school. "Stylish," she said, grinning.

Daniel looked up, then rolled his eyes when he saw what she was talking about. "Oh, yeah." He let out a short laugh. "I'm surprised Mom didn't come in and redecorate my room when I left. She hated those posters." He shook his head. "But she didn't touch anything."

Claire swallowed the lump in her throat. "I have to tell the minister about her," she blurted.

Daniel glanced over at her, surprised. "Really?"

Claire nodded. "Today." She took a deep breath. "He said I could write them down if I wanted to." She held up her right hand, which was still clutching the pencil and paper, then let it fall back to her side.

Daniel nodded slowly, but didn't say anything. After a moment, he walked over to a small sofa chair in the corner and dragged it over to his desk. He nodded at the desk chair, and Claire took a seat.

"So, what do they need to know?" he asked, looking over at the blank paper.

Claire shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever we can think of. Stories, memories…anything that reminds us of her." She paused. "The good stuff, I mean."

Daniel looked up at her, but didn't say anything about her last comment. "Alright," he said. "What about, um…" He drummed his fingers on the desk and glanced over at his bookshelf. After a few seconds, he pointed at a framed picture on the corner of the second shelf. "Vacations."

Claire nodded and picked up the picture he was pointing to. It was an old one, with just Daniel, Claire, their mother, and Aunt Irene. They were all standing outside of Irene's house in Florida, huddled around one another, grinning broadly. Daniel was mugging for the camera, arms crossed over his chest like a bouncer at a club. "What year was this?" she asked.

Daniel shrugged. "I don't know. I was in high school. You were nine or ten, I think."

Claire smiled fondly. "She was so pretty."

Daniel smiled. "Yeah, you remember Brett, my friend from the football team?"

Claire paused. "I think so. Was he the guy with the big teeth?"

Daniel laughed and nodded. "Yeah, that's him. He was so in love with Mom." He shook his head, still smiling. "I swear, he only came over to see her."

Claire laughed. "Really? That's…" She wrinkled her nose distastefully. "That's gross."

Daniel laughed out loud. "I know. I thought so, too."

Claire looked back at the photo in her hand. "Where was Dad?"

Daniel frowned. "I don't know. I don't think he went that year."

"Hmmm," Claire murmured, setting the frame down on the desk in front of her. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Claire said, "Do you think they were happy?"

Daniel was quiet for a few seconds. Finally he said, "I think so."

Claire watched him closely. "Really?"

Daniel looked over at her quickly, then glanced back at the photo. "Yeah," he said casually.

But Claire could hear the uncertainty in his voice. She looked down at the paper in front of her and took a deep breath.

At the top of the page, she wrote 'Vacations'.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!