A/N: Sorry the update has taken so long! I have been working this story over and over again trying to get it to the right place. Let me know what you think by reviewing! Enjoy!

Hank Lawson did not consider himself to be an angry person. Sure, there were times that he got upset, but overall he preferred to rationally think out solutions, not become enraged. On certain occasions however, he made an exception. This was one of those times.

He looked up from checking Marshall Bryant's vital signs to see his PA covering Tucker's sleeping form with a blanket. "How long has he been out?" Hank asked her quietly.

Divya checked her watch. "Only about ten minutes. I thought I'd let him sleep for now since the worst of it seems to be over."

"Yeah that's a good idea."

Divya peered at him. "Are you all right, Hank? Do you want to go rest for a while? I can take over."

"No, thanks Divya, I'm fine for now," Hank said. He wasn't going to admit what was really bothering him.

"All right then. I'll just take some of these things down to the laundry and get it started."

Hank raised his eyebrows. "You know how to do laundry?" he teased.

"Ha ha very funny," Divya shot back on her way out the door.

This left Hank alone with his thoughts. He sat down in a chair next to the bed and gazed at the sleeping form of his young friend. It was amazing to him how quickly he'd come to care about Tucker Bryant. He'd only known the kid for a month and a half and he already had Tucker on the same level as Evan. Every time the phone rang and the caller ID showed Tucker or Libby's name his heart stopped and didn't begin beating again until he saw that Tucker was okay.

The fact the kid was a hemophiliac scared him to death. Thank God for Libby and her need to over-react to everything. Without it…Tucker could be dead right now.

The kid was smart and funny and had an incredible wisdom about the way the world worked, a product of his time spent alone. And that was what made Hank angry. Here was this amazing kid who had been deal the most unfair hand life could give him. Not only did he struggle with a chronic and often life-threatening disease, but he was completely on his own, having to make decisions no 17-year-old should have to.

Tucker should be out having fun with his friends, not sitting at home, wondering if his father was going to wake up, being forced to take care of the man who should be taking care of him.

Tucker stirred but didn't wake, simply pulled the blanket closer and went on dreaming. Hank thought back to that first day, the first time he had visited the Bryant summer home. He'd thought Tucker was just another kid trying to get out of whatever consequences his actions had caused. Now he knew, Tucker was simply trying to hold on to whatever love his father did give him.

He could still remember the concern and fear that had enveloped him as he had watched the boy collapse in front of him, and then the growing horror as he realized just how much danger his patient was in.

Never in his life had Hank been so afraid of losing a patient. Despite trashing his father's car, he didn't deserve to die. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, letting Tucker and Libby fly off alone in that chopper.

Thinking back he knew he should have gone with them. But he was new to the area and hadn't wanted to overstep further than he already had. When he thought about what could have gone wrong in that fifteen minute ride…it made him sick.

Marshall Bryant moved restlessly on the bed and Hank tensed, preparing himself to hold the man down again if needed. After a moment Marshall calmed and went on sleeping. A glance at the monitors showed Hank things were still normal for a moment.

Deep down he knew why he felt so strongly about Tucker's situation. The pain he saw in Tucker's eyes was the same pain he had felt every day since his father had abandoned them.

The day Eddie R. Lawson had walked out on his dying wife and two young sons, Hank had felt like he was ripping in half. Hank knew everything Tucker was feeling. The abandonment, the loneliness, the hurt, the feeling that somehow, it was his fault.

Knowing that Tucker suffered the way he had made Hank want to hit someone, preferably Marshall Bryant. If Libby and Tucker hadn't been there the other night when he came and picked them up, he probably would have laid the man out flat.

How could this man not see what a special kid he had? Couldn't he see the hurt in his son's eyes every time he missed a birthday party, or a baseball game, or a Christmas morning?

One thing was for certain, Hank was not going to let Marshall Bryant dictate whether or not he was allowed to be Tucker's doctor. He was not going to stand idly by if Tucker was hurt or sick. And he was absolutely not going to allow Marshall to hurt his son.

Divya chose that moment to return and tell him that Evan had some sort of emergency. As she made to leave Tucker sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Thanks Divya," he said.

She smiled and waved goodbye before heading out.

Tucker rose and came to stand by Hank, looking down at his unconscious father. "So, I'm guessing all this doesn't happen from 'occasional' use," he said quietly.

"Yeah, probably not," Hank told him quietly, pain filling him at the sight of Tucker's unhappy face.

"So, what's going to happen now?" Tucker asked, looking slightly lost.

"Well he's going to need to go to a rehab facility. I know of an excellent one in Connecticut. This is just the beginning of a very long fight," Hank said.

"I'm glad you were here, Hank," Tucker said sincerely.

"Me too," Hank looked at him. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Tucker said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you know you can always come talk to me."

"I know."

Tucker stretched. "What time is it?" he asked.

Hank looked at his watch. "It's almost 2:30. He's doing fine, Goose. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

Tucker yawned. "No, I'm okay. I'll just stay here."

He turned to walk back to the chair he'd been sleeping on and stumbled. "Whoa!" Hank cried as he grabbed Tucker's arm to steady him. "Sit down."

He guided Tucker to the chair where the boy collapsed, breathing heavily. "What happened?" Tucker asked, his voice shaking.

"You're tired and you're stressed. You're going to bed," Hank told him in a no-nonsense voice. "Come on, I'll help you."

He pulled Tucker to his feet and walked him down the hall to his room. "I've got it from here," Tucker told him when they reached the doorway.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be here in the morning. We can talk to your dad about his options."

"Thanks. Goodnight."

"Night, Tucker."