A/N: Well, I had the chapter written, and MarinaBlack1 was generous enough to give it a read (have I mentioned how wonderful it is having a beta who also has medical training? I highly recommend it)... so here's the next installment!

A/N2: I don't normally post two days in a row. This story just started eating at me. I'm also working on a huge piece for The 100 ("Tell Me") so after this chapter, I'll likely alternate posting for these two... but I assure you I'm not one to leave a story unfinished. If there's interest, I'll certainly continue.

A/N3: Just a quick shout-out to my girls, Persepholily and Lucawindmover. Amazing women, who, along with MarinaBlack1, make my life a happy, beautiful place. Thank you all.

Part 2

Neither Dylan nor Emma had thought through what it meant to spend the day together like this, confined to a single room with little more than a television in the corner as potential distraction. They investigated the room's cupboards, Dylan pulling out angry-looking medical devices for which Emma invented horrific stories of torture. They napped. And they talked. It turned out there was a lot to be learned when the outside world was kept... well, outside.

Dylan, for example, learned he snored.

"Someone would have told me by now," he insisted when Emma accused him of it.

"Maybe they didn't want to hurt your feelings," she pointed out. "See, this is exactly why you should keep me around." He raised one eyebrow at her.

"You're right, my life is so much better with that brutal honesty of yours."

She blushed, and he cursed himself. She was in the fucking hospital for crying out loud. She didn't need to feel bad because of his shitty jokes.

"No, I – I didn't – that wasn't – it is better with you around, though."

"Shut up."

"Come on. You're the only one who gets my crazy family."

She grinned at that and he relaxed, but her good humor was short-lived. "I really hate being stuck here like this," she complained. "It's hard to be spontaneous when I have to ask you for help every time I want to kiss you."

"Oh… well, I guess I could, uh, spend the whole day hovering over you," Dylan teased softly, "You know, in case the mood strikes. Like this," and he leaned down until their faces were whisper-close. "Feeling more spontaneous now?" He searched her eyes, burning in his own skin when they closed and she rose to his mouth. He held back at first (their earlier kiss had been short, simple, and had still worn her out) but Emma's lips parted under his, and Dylan figured maybe he was an asshole after all – because she felt so good. Her tongue slipped over his temptingly, her hand drifted up to rest on his chest. Definitely-inappropriate ideas swam hazily through Dylan's brain as he traced the line of her arm up to her shoulder, as she opened to him more completely and he moved past her teeth into the dark warmth of her mouth, as he felt her fingers tighten and tangle into the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Emma…" He stopped not because he wanted to, but because her breathing had started to escalate. "I'm pretty sure this isn't what they mean by recovery."

"… Dammit."

Dylan moved from her side, taking a moment to calm down. "I really should get back to the motel at some point," he admitted from the doorway. Shifting the conversation toward his mother and brother worked better than any cold shower. He swallowed and said the words he'd been avoiding. "I know you and Norman are close. I'm sure he's worried about you."

Emma scratched at her collarbone where a strip of tape held her central line in place. "I don't know about that," she confessed. "He didn't seem very happy with the way we ended things."

It was such a simple sentence, and so quiet, but it ripped Dylan Massett's life in half.

There were unexpected visions of a future he hadn't really allowed before: of Emma, waking him up with a kiss in the little bed at the farm. Emma, holding his hand under the table at family dinners. Emma and her sunny goodness, beating back his nightmare past.

A chilling darkness swam under it all, though: Norman watching them from an inky black doorway, too still and calm. Norman, standing in a pool of dim light and soaked in deep red liquid, calmly assuring Dylan of his innocence. Norman and Norma and their toxic obsessions poisoning everything, even Emma, until she was lost forever.

"Hey, can I ask a favor?" He moved back to Emma's side and brushed his fingers along her chin. "Let's, uh, let's keep this between us for now. Okay? I know my brother. He cares about you, no matter what happened, and I – I just wouldn't want to hurt him," he lied. Well, a half-lie. He didn't want to hurt Norman… but right now he was far more worried about who Norman might hurt.

"Okay, sure. If that's what you want. But… my dad probably already knows. And that orderly who called you my boyfriend… and the nurse you kept glaring at for touching me…" Dylan laughed at her.

"Alright, I get it!" He stared at her in amused wonder. Bent, and kissed her as chastely as he could. "Just… not Norman. Please?"

"Not Norman."

"Not Norman what?" Mr. Decody asked as he entered the room carrying a heavy canvas tote full of books and board games. Dylan slipped around the edge of the bed to take it from him.

Emma cleared her throat. "Nothing. How was the drive?"

"Fine, fine. I ran into your mother at the grocery store, Dylan. She asked after Emma and wondered if you could give Norman a ride up to the hospital later. She has a meeting, or she'd do it herself."

"Yeah, of course." Dylan glanced at Emma in apology and headed for the door. "Wait… why didn't she just call me?"

"She said she tried, but you didn't answer."

He reached into his pocket for his phone and swore under his breath. The battery had died, and he hadn't even noticed. "I'll be back later," he promised as he shot out of the room. Norma would kill him for being unreachable for so long.

He checked at the motel office first, but no one was there.

"Good evening Dylan, did you just get back?" a calm measured voice called from a few rooms down and he turned, caught sight of the room-service cart. He met up with Norman just as the teen was locking the motel room door behind him.

"It's almost six o'clock, why are you still doing housekeeping?"

"Mr. Perkins is a writer, and he prefers privacy during the day. He requested this schedule. It's fine, he's very neat so it takes no time at all. Come with me, Mother should have dinner ready by now."

Up at the house, Norma was humming an old show tune as she set the kitchen table. She said nothing when Dylan appeared at Norman's side, but her eyebrows spoke volumes.

"Hey, Norma."

"Don't 'hey' me. Nice of you to finally remember you have a family that worries about you." Norma slammed a plate onto the table. "You know what, just forget it. Come eat, the food's getting cold."

Dylan felt an automatic guilt building in his chest. It manifested as defensiveness. "It was one day. My phone died and I ju – I didn't know. But I got your messages, though. All twelve of them."

"Whatever. I knew you'd be fine," she deflected with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I just didn't want you getting in the way. Mr. Decody has enough to worry about right now."

"No, that's what I was doing," Dylan tried. "Will – uh, Mr. Decody wanted someone to stay at the hospital with Emma while he came back to town, and I was helping him out. That's all."

"Oh yes, Emma's surgery. How is she?" Norman asked before spearing at a bite of green beans with his fork. Dylan flinched.

"Yeah, she's uh, you know. She's good. I mean the surgeons basically cut her in half or whatever, but she's awake and talking, and… and stuff."

"The poor thing," Norma allowed. "I really don't understand, though. You barely know Emma. Why does it even matter to you?"

"But... she's a friend, right? Of the family? It just seemed like someone should represent us there. Emma and her dad don't exactly have a big support system in White Pine Bay."

"Support system," Norma muttered. "What about a support system for us, huh? We need to be there for each other right now. This family's been through too much. And your brother hasn't been feeling well, have you Norman?" She reached across the table to press her palm against Norman's forehead.

"I told you Mother, I feel fine. Please stop infantilizing me."

"Big words, coming from someone with the flu. Sorry, but you're warm. As soon as you've finished, I want you straight upstairs and into bed."

Norman frowned and pointed his fork at her. "No, this is getting ridicu – "

Norma slammed her hand against the table.

"Just do it!" Norman swallowed his words and stared back down at his plate. "I don't understand you two, I really don't," Norma continued. "I'm trying so damn hard to keep us all healthy and safe, keep us together, and you're both just determined to… to thwart me at every turn!" She paused, took a deep breath, and rearranged her napkin in her lap. "Look, I'm sorry about Emma. I worry about her too, but this family is my first responsibility. So Norman, after dinner you are marching up those stairs and into bed. Dylan, you and I need to talk."

"Yes, Mother," Norman murmured. Dylan grunted noncommittally and focused on his dinner.

With Norman heading obediently to his room, Dylan rounded on his mother as she washed dishes.

"What the hell is this? I thought I was here to give Norman a lift to the hospital, and now you're telling me he's sick? He can't be around Emma, she's got no immune system! Christ, Norma!"

She froze but did not turn around. "Something's happened. I don't understand what, exactly, but… it's different. Ever since the night he disappeared with that, that… Bradley girl."

"Different, wha – How? What do you mean, different?" Was there a normal they were comparing themselves to, now? That seemed fruitless…

"You saw him at dinner! It's like his spirit is all… gone. He just does whatever I tell him. Or sometimes he … watches me, almost as if he's scared of me, or doesn't trust me." Norma shivered and Dylan stepped closer, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "I don't know what to do. I really don't. We can't afford a place like Pineview, honey. It's so damn expensive, you can't imagine." Norma rested her head on his shoulder. "I feel so… lost. I'm not a monster, am I? There are way worse parents out there! So why am I the one who has to deal with all this bullshit? And honestly, what the fuck happened to Bradley Martin?"

She gave up on the dishes entirely as Dylan pulled her in for a reassuring hug.

"Hey. I'm here, okay? I'm here. You're not alone, Norma. I'll take him to visit Emma if he's allowed to go, and I'll keep an eye on him. And if… you know, if Pineview is what's best for him, then we'll – we'll make it work."

"Dylan. Thank you."

"Sure. Family, right?"

"Is everything okay in here?" Dylan and Norma jumped at the intrusion of a third voice, Norman's terrifyingly calm voice. "Having a party without me, I see."

"Norman, don't be like that," Norma ordered. She pulled from Dylan and headed for the refrigerator. "Can't you sleep? Do you need a glass of milk?"

"Mother, what were you and Dylan talking about?" He was too composed. It was wrong, Dylan could see what Norma meant.

"Emma," he cut in with a small cough. "We were talking about Emma. I want to drive you down to Portland to see her first thing tomorrow, but if you're sick they might not let you in to her room."

"Emma." Norman repeated. "Yes, that will be lovely. Thank you Dylan. Don't worry about me, I'm sure I'll be perfectly fine in the morning," he added, a comment pointed squarely at his mother. Norma simply handed him a glass of milk and crossed her arms, waiting in silence as he drank the pristine white liquid. Dylan's skin crawled watching the eerie showdown.

The glass emptied and set on the counter, Norman stared at his brother and his mother, a hint of challenge in his eyes. It occurred to Dylan that Norman suspected them of plotting, and had no interest in leaving the duo alone to continue their discussion.

"Yeah. Okay. Let's go, Norman. I'm tired, and we should head out early tomorrow." His voice broke the tension and the brothers turned for the hall. Dylan shot a worried glance over his shoulder at his mother as they rounded the corner; he couldn't explain exactly why, but the number of women whose lives he feared for had just doubled.

I hope you're continuing to enjoy! Please let me know. I am a complete feedback junkie, I can't even pretend otherwise. Sorry. I have zero shame in that respect!