A/N: I'm glad to see people are still reading this story. :) See the first chapter for the disclaimer. I hope you all enjoy this one, and please review. :)

Chapter 9

The funeral proceeded as most do, with prayers and memories. All of which were infuriating to Adam. But, being the good son, he held his opinions to himself, acting as if he was mourning the same as everyone else.

But he wasn't.

Yet, Adam played along, waiting (and praying) for it to be over. And as the services ended, he silently thanked whoever was listening that the worst of it was over. Or, at least, he thought the worst of it was over.

Until he had to mingle.

Instead, he chose to wander around his childhood home, not wanting to pay attention to any one guest in particular. All offered some condolences, and Adam wondered if they had any clue just how long it had been since he'd last talked to his father. Or, hell, even since he last cared about his father.

If he ever even cared at all.

Adam supposed part of him had, but it never quite manifested in a normal way. Most kids, like Greg, always loved their parents, talked to them regularly, and worked out painful moments. Adam's family… there was nothing but painful moments.

Adam shook his head as he accepted a drink from Danny before Danny made his way outside where Lindsay was watching the kids. Stella was with Nancy in the kitchen while Hawkes talked to Mike and Steve in the living room. Adam slipped upstairs, choosing to go back to his old room, drinking and staring around the destruction that exemplified so much of his previous life.

"How's he holding up?"

Greg shrugged slightly at Mac's question. "You talked to him," the younger man answered.

"You're his best friend, Greg," Mac pointed out.

"Yeah, and even I can't quite figure that out."

Mac nodded. "How are you doing?"

Greg shrugged again. "I'm okay."

"I'm familiar with what you're department is going through right now. If there's anything we can do…"

"Just, take care of him when he gets home," Greg said sincerely. "Please."

"Of course," Mac replied.

Greg nodded, seemingly pacified by Mac's response.

Some time later, the door to Adam's old room opened, and Adam didn't even have to look up to see who had come in. Because he knew there would only be one person who would actually know where to find him.

"You looking for me?" Adam asked.

Greg shrugged. "Just figured you'd need another drink," he replied softly.

Adam nodded, taking the proffered glass from Greg.

"Your team's getting ready to leave," Greg told him quietly.

"I think I'm almost ready to head off, too," Adam said.

Greg nodded solemnly as Adam drank from his glass.

"I'm sorry," Adam said quietly. "It's just… I can't stay here much longer. It's too much."

"I understand," Greg said softly.

"No, Greg. You don't. Not completely."

Greg did his best not to react as Adam started to get wound up.

"You don't understand what it felt like, living in this house. Living in terror. The bruises, the injuries. You have no idea what it's like growing up in fear of someone who's supposed to do nothing but love you, and support you. They're supposed to shield you from pain, not cause your pain. You have no idea what it's like, when that person… when they hurt you…

"You have awesome parents," Adam continued. "And maybe they aren't together, but they're also happy in their lives. They have always loved you, always been there for you, and never made you feel like… I don't know. They always made you feel like you were amazing. Mine… my mom stood back as my father beat us down."

Greg nodded, saying nothing and trying not to upset Adam even more.

"He was a bastard," Adam said. "And, as awful as it makes me sound, I'm glad he's dead. I just wish he would've suffered half as much as we have. Most people, they think that we're older, the trauma stopped, that it's all over. It's never over. That bastard stole our lives from us. We never got to be children, we were always victims. We didn't get to be happy, we were always afraid. Playing with our friends meant being afraid of someone finding out the truth. We just..."

"Never had a chance," Greg finished for him.

"We left, but we never got away," Adam said, draining the last of his glass.

"Can't escape the past. The only thing you can do is try to deal with the bursts that come."

Adam nodded, feeling his anger start to subside.

"But, you can do this," Greg reminded him. "You're strong. You're going to be okay. And even though you're not right now, that's perfectly okay. It's hard to say goodbye to someone you truly never get closure with. And maybe part of you felt like the closure was there, came long ago, at the moment you left for Stanford, but there's a significant piece that never got said. That you probably needed your father to hear, and he never will."

"You don't believe that," Adam said.

"What I believe is irrelevant. This is about you, and your grief, and your pain. This is about what you need to say and do. This isn't about him anymore. He's gone, and you're still here. And though this has to do with him, what his death has triggered in you, it's not about him."

Adam nodded slowly.

"What you're thinking and feeling is normal," Greg continued. "And, just remember, there's no right way or wrong way to deal with this. Everything you're going through is normal, so long as you're not thinking of harming yourself."

"No," Adam told him. "But, if you keep talking like this, I may harm you."

Greg chuckled softly. "Yeah, I think you're about done here."

Adam nodded again, making his way toward the door.

Adam hugged his mother as he and Greg's family said their goodbyes. She held onto him tightly, whispering in his ear. Adam nodded, kissing her on the cheek as the group moved back, making their way to the car.

"Are you okay, Adam?" Nancy asked after they were on their way.

Adam glanced over at Greg as he said, "I will be."

Greg nodded, more to himself than anyone else, as he focused on the long drive back to Las Vegas.