St Louis, Missouri, Saint Louise University Hospital, 2019

Surely, he was in Hell.

He wasn't quite sure what he'd done to deserve it, although he suspected that perhaps the Catholic Church was right - suicide was a mortal sin after all. At least it was the only thing he could think of terrible enough to warrant him an eternity of damnation.

He knew for sure he was in Hell by the deep and relentless blackness of the place; and by the serpent tightly wrapped around his neck.

He wondered whether it was the same snake that had tempted Eve with an apple. But he supposed he'd never know for sure. There was nobody to ask. It seemed part of experiencing Hell was to be totally alone.

After a few years like this, he knew he'd lose his mind.

Perhaps that would be for the best.

The serpent showed no mercy. Every time he tried to breathe the snake would coil tighter and limited the flow of air making each intake and exhale excruciatingly painful. Even when he tried to defy the reptile by holding his breath, he couldn't. There was something forcing him to breathe; rhythmically pumping the air down his lungs even though his throat burned like fire in protest.

He missed Noah. He couldn't remember a time he'd ached so much for Noah. He wondered whether this was another of Hell's punishments; to be left with all his life memories and yet bereft of Noah's love.

Perpetuity like this was hard to fathom.

He found himself somewhere between wakefulness and sleep; unsure whether his eyes were open or closed. The shadow made it difficult to tell. The only sound was a faint electronic beeping that increased in volume, until is was right beside him; driving him crazy with its ceaseless monotony.

By now he was so desperate for human contact, that when he felt a hand encapsulate his own he called out for Noah, even though he knew it couldn't possibly be him.

…

Holden couldn't get over the immense and inhumane cruelty of the FBI's ploy. Sure it was their job to catch fugitives; but to falsely announce Luke's death in the hopes of flushing out Noah was simply unforgivable. Indeed, heartless beyond any words in Holden's dictionary.

Even if Noah had been guilty and deserved it, which of course he wasn't and didn't; the blow this news had on the extended Snyder family was borderline catastrophic.

During their brief phone conversation, Agent Williams tried his best to justify his actions. "We hoped Mayer might give himself up, if he felt he had nothing left to fight for."

But Holden wasn't about to give Williams anything that might help soothe any guilt the agent felt. He fired a few choice words in Williams' direction before hanging up.

He spent five minutes letting the family know of Luke's condition and then drove off toward St. Louis. He broke a few speed laws on the way and perhaps even picked up a fine or two. But Holden couldn't think about that now.

…

After years of not knowing and a day of mourning internally, while trying to keep the tragic news from the younger Snyders, especially Leo, Holden could barely believe Luke was just beyond this hospital room door.

He stood fidgeting as he waited for the prison guards on duty to confirm the visitor.

Finally, Holden was allowed entry to the patient's room.

The window blinds were drawn and the only light came from two small spots above the bed. The doctor had warned him about the breathing tube. But it was still a shock to find Luke connected to a group of machines. All the wires made the gravity of the situation that much starker, even though the doctor said Luke would be fine.

The room had that distinct hospital disinfectant smell Holden had long ago come to associate with Luke. Holden recalled spending hours by this boy's bedside, first when Luke suffered kidney failure as a child; and again while Luke recovered from a lifesaving organ transplant.

But even back then, he'd never heard his son make the raw rasping sounds he did now. Luke's chest shuddered on each exhalation. His neck was wound with a white bandage that Holden reached out to touch, running his hand gently along it; imaging the painful red and black welt that must surely reside underneath the gauze.

The shaking father took a seat beside his son; and ran the pad of one thumb under Luke's eyes, trying to erase the black tension there.

I wish you had come to me. I wish you had let me help you.

As he placed his hand over Luke's, the young man shifted in his sleep. Luke's lips moved like he was trying to say something.

Holden gently shushed his precious son; stroking his free hand through Luke's sweat matted hair, just like he had when Luke was a small boy.

He tried not to think about the kind of turmoil that would make a man do this to himself.

According to Agent Williams, it was a simple twist of fate that Luke survived at all. Kept in solitary confinement, Luke had no way of distinguishing night from day. Had he known, he'd likely not have chosen spot on morning roll call to commit his act.

Holden shivered.

Had Luke stepped off that prison cot any earlier, he'd have died for sure. As it was, the guards on duty opened the door to his cell just in time to save him.

Holden sat there beside his son for three hours, ignoring the frequent buzz of his cell phone against his thigh. He knew they would be anxiously awaiting news back at the farm and he should get up to call Lily.

But he couldn't bring himself to remove his hand from Luke's or leave Luke on his own. He sensed Luke would feel the loss; and he couldn't do that to his child. Not after everything the poor kid had been through.

…

Something kept Luke tethered. Had it not, he'd have long ago drifted even deeper into Hell. But something kept pulling him back. With each gentle tug outward things became lighter.

He could swear somebody was saying his name. He knew the voice like it belonged to some long-ago childhood fairy tale. There was so much warmth in it; drawing Luke closer like a fire in winter.

The lightness brightened with each passing minute, even though the serpent remained coiled around his throat.

Hell was smolderingly hot and he was terribly thirsty. But at least the snake no longer tormented him as much as it had been.

It was sudden; his awakening - shocking.

With a sudden whoosh of blood through his ears, all the light rushed toward him and a face appeared in his vision. Blinking, the blurriness subsided; and as he realized who the face belonged to, he thought it remarkable.

God must have heard his pleas for clemency because, somehow, he'd been elevated into Heaven.

…

Auburn eyes flecked with gold so like Lily's, flickered over Holden's face. As the haze that resided there cleared, his son gripped his hand so tight, Holden winced. Luke's other hand reached over to claw at Holden's lower arm; feeling all the way up to Holden's shoulder; his neck; stopping to spread fingers over Holden's lips.

"I'm real." Holden assured him with a soft smile. "I'm here."

As comprehension dawned, Holden watched Luke's amazement turn to terror and Luke began to scratch at his own neck, rasping in his desperation to speak.

"Luke, relax!" his father ordered.

Luke's entire body shivered as though he were cold. His eyes bulged out of his head; his panic cutting off air to his lungs. The machines began a crazy beeping, causing Luke's doctor and two male nurses to storm into the room.

The lights were flicked on, almost blinding Holden as the nurses struggled to disconnect the grip Luke had on his father. But Luke was having none of it. His eyes pleaded for Holden to understand somehow.

"Luke..." Holden explained, trying to soothe his boy by stroking the blonde head. "...you have a tube down your throat. You can't talk right now, okay? But if you calm down for just a moment, maybe the doctor here can remove it…"

Holden hopefully glanced up at the doctor who offered a doubful frown, but spent a moment examining Luke as best he could with Luke flailing about.

Seemingly satisfied, the doctor nodded. "Luke, my name is Dr. Strand. I'm going to pull the tube up and out of your throat and nose now," he explained. "I need you to relax, okay? I can't do it while your muscles are all strung tight like this."

Holden watched his son glance between them before nodding his agreement. Luke closed his eyes and clutched Holden's fingers; willing himself to calm and be patient, definitely not virtues processed by the boy Holden remembered.

"Okay, that's good," the doctor smiled. "Now I need you to take a deep breath through your nose and I'm going to pull the tube out as you exhale. On the count of three… one… two… three!"

As the tube cleared Luke's nostril, he chocked and spluttered for a moment, wheezing for air.

One of the nurses placed a few ice chips on Luke's tongue. He made short use of them, swallowing the chips whole in his desperation or relief from the throaty burn.

His eyes leaked out the sides as he quickly turned back to Holden. "I can't…" he coughed. There was barely any sound to his voice.

Holden leaned in, positioning his ear right by Luke's lips. "I'm listening, Son."

"I can't be alive!"

Holden squeezed his eyes shut; a rolling wave of emotion slamming through him. He felt instantly sick and wrapped Luke in his arms as much as he could. "Oh, God, Son… Please don't talk that way… Please…"

"Dad? Dad?" Luke repeated, urgently pushing Holden's chest to get his attention. "Please…"

"It's okay, Luke…"

But Luke was fervently shaking his head. "No… no… Dad… He said… He said…"

Holden pressed Luke back into the bed as the younger Snyder struggled to sit up. "Luke, you need to calm down, okay?"

Holden could tell Luke was utterly panicked about something.

"Dad… Leo?"

Then Holden understood and mentally kicked himself for not thinking about that sooner. "Leo's fine."

But Luke was too frantic to listen and continued his efforts to sit up.

"Luke, listen! Listen!" Holden was near to shaking Luke. "Leo's fine! He's okay!"

Luke stilled, a hand curled around each of his father's arms. He was looking at Holden like he couldn't believe what had just come out his father's mouth.

Holden smiled and patted Luke's shoulder. "That's right… Leo's doing just fine, Son."

"He's…"

"He followed his heart and found his way home. He's at the farm with your mother, Grandma and the girls. He and Ethan have become firm buddies. Leo's just fine…"

Luke's countenance cracked from the release of his self-imposed pressure. The news almost too wonderful to be believed.

"That's," Holden continued with a smirk, "…only if he's not exploded from all the water your little sister, Eva, keeps hydrating him with. Poor boy's probably had to drink his body weight in the stuff by now! She's pretty persistent that little one!"

"What?" The very weak and confused Luke was flabbergasted.

"Nurse Eva's eight and she's been fussing over Leo just like Grandma Emma." Holden smiled down at Luke. "He's a great kid... You boys have done well raising him."

It was all too much to take in. Luke broke down, nodding his agreement and reaching out for his father.

Holden held him through the wrecked sobs, rocking him gently while speaking continually about his siblings and Oakdale; the words floating in the air like a soft blanket. Holden assured his son that things were going to work out even though Holden wasn't sure how.

"Why were you so afraid for Leo, Luke?" Holden later asked, as he helped Luke drink a sip of water from a straw. "Why did you want to die?"

Luke shook his head and explained how he was lied to about Leo's condition; and how he was told Leo would be hurt, if he didn't end his own life.

"I didn't have a choice," Luke explained. After Holden gravely nodded Luke asked, "Has there been any news on Noah?"

"None. I'm sorry."

Luke wetly nodded and then made the assertion Holden could tell he'd wanted to say for a long time. "We didn't do it, Dad."

Holden bit back the tears. "I know that, Son. We all know it. We always did."