"I've been so fixated on the emotional part of this that I barely thought about the logistics of how weird it would be show up at his door."

Soda drove into the parking lot of an apartment complex on Rosewood Avenue, Steve in the passenger seat of the truck as the two mentally prepared for their talk with Chris. "Well, the logistics are less complicated, that's for sure. But he knows we're comin' over and who we are, so it could be worse."

Steve didn't disagree as the truck came to a stop in a parking space near stairs that led to three more floors of apartments. "Please tell me if you can think of any reason I shouldn't be doing this. That is, other than the ones I was telling myself before. Are there any signs this is actually the wrong thing and that I should go home and pretend talking to Chris was never an option?"

"Nope. All I can see are signs that this is the right thing to do."

"That figures."

Soda shut off the engine, seeing Steve gazing out the window as he imagined everything that must be going through the other man's head. "We've gone over all you need to start. Rehearsed it, so to speak. I bet you'll be fine as soon as we get in there and settle into talkin'."

"I'm a nervous wreck, Soda."

Soda couldn't argue with that as he put his hand over Steve's and felt him shaking. "I know. But that's why I'm here too. Anything you need, I'll have your back."

Steve nodded, feeling Soda squeezing his hand as he reminded himself to breathe. "Hopefully, I'll be able to say what I'm wanting to without having a panic attack in the process. It's crazy how a conversation can be so damn scary."

"Well, not to fan the flame, buddy, but I get why and how it is. So I'm going to go with what you told me and say to let yourself feel what's there. We can take a minute to make sure you'll be all right."

"Yeah. 'Cause Chris doesn't need me knocking on his door in the throes of a flashback."

This put Soda on high alert, which led him to touch Steve's cheek, making his friend's eyes meet his own. "Is that what's going on now? Are you more than nervous?"

"Kind of. But it's just like mini-flashbacks 'cause I keep thinking about my memories so much."

"Okay. When we're in there, please let me know if it gets bad so I can take care of you."

Like he had so often lately, Steve got a warm feeling in his chest, as he knew Soda would indeed do just that. "I will. I'll tell you if it gets to be too much, but right now, I need to go up those stairs and find out what's waiting for me."

"I hope you guys like peanut butter pie. I have to admit, I'm a little bit nervous about the reason for this visit, so it makes me feel better to be a gracious host."

Steve followed Chris to a table near a sliding glass door which had a balcony's view of the city, taking the chair that had been offered to him. "Oh. Uh, yeah, thanks. Pie sounds good."

Soda slid into the chair beside Steve's as he looked around what he could only describe as a cozy apartment with its teal carpet, fish aquarium, and a futon, complete with a snoozing cat curled up on it. "Nice place you've got here."

Chris took a pie out of the refrigerator, cutting it into slices as he spoke. "Thanks. It's small but great for a single guy like me. You might have heard I have a cat named Clover too, but that one there is Sailor. This might sound corny, but she makes it home. She got her name because she was very wild and playful as a kitten, and I used to curse like a sailor when she'd get into everything."

Steve thanked Chris as a slice of pie was set in front of him, even though his appetite felt rather weak from anticipation. "Hey, how about that? Cat with the most original name meets man with the most original name."

Soda felt Steve elbow him as he started to eat the peanut butter pie. "Yep. But there ain't a story behind mine. My dad was just creative, and he didn't want my name or my little brother's to match anyone else's. I guess my older brother only got a normal name 'cause he's a junior."

Chris sat down at the table himself, enjoying the rare company despite the mystery of it. "Emily always talks about you, Soda. Any time I see her with Carrie. You too, Steve. But, uh, anyway, my curiosity is getting the best of me here because I've met both of you in passing before, but I can't think of anything we'd need to discuss."

Steve saw the look Soda sent his way, as if encouraging him to go forward, the small gesture guiding him into the subject he needed to broach. "Yeah, I don't think there's any way you could know. I've gone through it in my mind over and over, but it's still hard to start. So I guess I should just tell you some things about myself first."

Soda noticed the hesitation when Steve paused, his hand going underneath the table to grasp his friend's.

Grateful for the private nudge, Steve steadied himself and continued. "I was sexually abused when I was a kid. By a woman my dad was in a relationship with. We never knew much about her, but she did talk about having a husband and a little boy. Nathan and Christopher."

Chris felt Sailor's fur as the cat rubbed against his legs, the next few seconds so quiet that the lack of noise seemed too loud. "So? What then? You think I'm her Christopher? A molester's kid?"

Steve swallowed hard at the same time he felt Soda squeeze his hand, the grip staying tight as Chris' eyes appeared to grow narrower. "No! I mean, I'm not looking at you like that. I'm just wondering if there's a connection."

Chris left his chair, Sailor right on his heels as he furiously moved about the apartment. "Oh, you are, huh? I should've known telling Carrie the things I did would bite me in the ass. Because she told Emily, everyone knows now, so it means I must need help from someone like you. Hell, a counselor whose been abused! What a lucky bastard I must be!"

Soda's arm went around Steve's shoulders, feeling his friend shaking much more than he had been upon their arrival. "Chris, you're takin' this the wrong way. Steve doesn't think you need his help, but it's important to him to know as much about his past as he can. That's all that's going on here, I swear."

Chris stopped near the futon, Sailor perching on the arm of it as he stroked her fur, the man straddling a thin line between madness and rationality. "Okay. So who was this woman then? What was his abuser's name?"

Steve had laid his head down on the table, his breathing barely enough as he answered. "Clara. Her name was Clara."

"Get out."

Though Steve had heard the command, his legs felt like jelly, refusing to obey, only Soda's help getting him to his feet. "I- I'm sorry, Chris. I won't say anything else, and we'll go."

Soda ushered Steve out the door that Chris had opened wide, part of him wishing he could stay and defend his best friend. He made eye contact with the man who had so easily welcomed them inside, the green orbs stormy with anger that fought to hide what was underneath. Yet, the door slammed before he could speak, cutting off any remaining chance of interaction. Soda's gaze then moved to Steve, whose eyes were closed as he focused on trying to calm down. "Hey, are you okay, Stevie? I'm so damn sorry it went down like that. I sure never would've thought it'd be this way. Please tell me what I can do."

Steve stared at the door that had been closed in their faces, imagining what Chris may be doing on the other side as he also realized that he'd indeed gotten his answer. "I'm not okay now, but I will be. Just stay close and walk with me to the truck."

"Of course." Soda kept his promise, he and Steve walking side by side down the three flights of stairs that took them back to the parking lot. Climbing in the driver's seat, Soda waited until Steve had shut the passenger door before he spoke again. "So where to?"

Steve heard the engine start, laying his head against the back of the seat. "Your place. Hope you've got some hot chocolate on hand."

Soda backed out of the parking space, his hand resting on Steve's arm as he drove onto the street. "I sure do. But I thought you might want to go home and be with Liv."

"Not yet. I need to get to a better place than this before I'll be up to explaining how things went with Chris. Samuel really read him wrong. He literally pushed us away."

"Yeah. That was pretty bad. Especially after he was so nice."

Steve could hardly reconcile the person who had opened the door and offered them peanut butter pie with the man who had so fluently cursed just minutes later before making it clear they were no longer welcome. "I triggered him, Soda. Badly. I stepped right into a wound, and the most I can do right now is pray that he recovers."

Sharp edges.

Blood on his arm as memories dance.

Reminding him of his roots, of whose son he is.

The pain returns, flaring up as he fights with his identity.

He wishes to be anyone else, coming apart as he struggles in discovering that she didn't stop with him.

She hurt another child.

Abused. Molested. Victimized.

Betrayed.

Replaced.

Blood on the bathroom floor.

Last hope destroyed in a maze of paths that were never meant to cross.

The legacy of his mother that much worse as he suffers through the agony of knowing he's victim zero.

"Here, Stevie. You look like you're shakin' again, so be careful, buddy."

Steve took the mug of hot chocolate Soda was offering him, the moment mirroring many others that they had shared. He slowly sipped the drink, its warmth a reminder of the love that was always abundant in his life. "Yeah, I am. I thought I'd calmed down, but I'm still so damn shaken up."

Soda sat down with Steve, a mug also in front of him, though his attention was reserved for his friend. "Seems normal to me. Well, as normal as anything can be in this whole situation."

"I can't believe I did that to him. I didn't want to hurt him, and that's exactly what happened. I can't even decide how I feel about knowing for sure because it's tangled up in the fact that I dredged up someone else's trauma."

"So you think he is then? You think Chris is Clara's Christopher?"

Steve's hand gripped Soda's shoulder, his eyes closed against the too-fresh memory of a reaction that seemed unlikely to indicate anything different. "Yes. Absolutely. You saw the same thing I did. You heard it. People don't react that strongly to things that don't push a button. It hurt for me to ask if he's the son of an abuser because he is. And when I said Clara's name, he sure didn't waste any time in getting us out of there. I hope he's not like me, Soda. I hope he won't hurt himself."

"Do you mean you hope he ain't like Clara?"

The memory Steve had constructed upon learning the details of Clara's horrific death surfaced in his mind, the images of her blood and body as vivid as they'd been years ago. "I hate to think of it like that 'cause he wouldn't like it. But, yeah, some people think these things can be genetic, so I can't help wondering."

Soda watched Steve's face, recognizing that they were veering into what could become dangerous territory, given his friend's experience with previous revelations. "Me neither."

Steve could still feel himself trembling inside and out as he took another swallow of hot chocolate. "I also can't help but think he must've tried really hard not to be anything like her. Can you imagine? Clara wasn't my mother or my blood, but I used to feel like she was part of me. I struggled with that a hell of a lot at one point. Like just because her hands were on me, it had to mean something. Chris must feel it a hundred times worse. From what Samuel told me about what he said, he was eight when the abuse happened. Eight. I've said I was a little boy, but damn, he really was."

Soda remembered well how badly Steve had grappled with his identity as he faced every truth of his trauma, knowing those feelings were also a factor in his friend choosing to attempt suicide. "So were you, Stevie. And I've gotta be honest. I'm gettin' scared for you right now 'cause you've done so much lookin' back and reflectin' lately. I'm not tellin' you that's a bad thing, but I do think the scales could tip too much here, especially if you go real deep in explorin' what it might be like inside Chris' head."

Steve hand tightened on the mug of chocolate as he set it down, imagining just for a second how it would feel to hurl it at the wall and watch the glass shatter. "So what are you trying to say to me then? That I'm not supposed to feel? Am I not supposed to talk about where this is making my thoughts go?"

"I didn't say that. I want you to talk to me. I always do."

"You're the one who said I should talk to him, Soda. And it blew up in my face. You should've just let me be, or maybe I shouldn't have even told you about Chris at all."

"What? But you always tell me everything? Why would you say that?"

Steve pretended not to notice the stricken expression on Soda's face, the pain he felt morphing into anger that he hurled at his best friend. "Because I sat there shaking while I got yelled at. We completely pissed him off, and for what? A damn answer that I only got 'cause I can read between the lines. Oh, and of course, there's the fact that you'll be breathing down my neck for who knows how long now since you think I'll hurt myself."

"Steve, you asked me what I thought when we were at the church, so-"

"So I should've just kept my mouth shut!" Steve bolted up from his spot, his body tense with emotion he could barely contain. "But you just had to go and make me change my mind, didn't you? I would've been okay. I could've come to terms with not knowing anything for sure. Why didn't you let me?"

Anyone who didn't know Steve well would miss the pure hurt and sadness in his voice, but for Soda, it was plain to see, even as the accusations stung. He almost wasn't sure if he should move closer to his friend, but he did anyway, praying that the hand he put on Steve's shoulder would help calm him. "I didn't mean for things to get worse. I hope you know that. I'm sorry you got hurt here, buddy. It was hard for me to watch too."

Steve wrestled with all of the feelings that warred inside of him, each one competing for dominance as he lashed out at the person with whom he'd always been the safest. "This was wrong. You were wrong! It wasn't worth the risk. You were there, but you didn't..."

Soda kept his voice soft as he spoke, his focus on helping Steve because he knew his friend likely didn't believe any of what he'd just been saying. "I didn't what? What else could I have done when we were over there?"

Steve felt himself deflate, his next words so quiet that they were almost unspoken. "Protect me. I was going to say you didn't protect me."

"I wanted to. But how could I? Nothing I said would stop Chris from being angry, and it ain't like I can undo this whole situation so who he is didn't start showin'."

Steve's gaze moved to rest on Soda, his heart clenching as he wished he could rewind time and take back the awful things he'd said. "Soda, I'm sorry. I'm such an asshole that you probably hate me right now."

"No, of course I don't hate you. But it does hurt to hear you blamin' me. I didn't expect that, and I don't know how to fix it."

Steve sighed as he took in the earnest expression on Soda's face, seeing in his best friend the sincere desire to right a wrong that he hadn't even committed. "There's nothing to fix, brother. I don't actually blame you. I'm just a mess, and you were here. I'm ashamed to say it, but it's true."

Soda followed Steve back to their previous spots, seeing that the other man had at least relaxed a little bit. "So maybe you just needed to get it out then, huh? I really am sorry, Stevie. If I'd thought for one second that Chris would react like he did, I wouldn't have encouraged you to go to him. Even if you didn't mean the stuff you said a minute ago, there must be somethin' inside you that is mad at me."

"I didn't mean any of it. Like I said, I was being an asshole." Steve realized that, on top of everything else, he now had an extra layer of guilt because he'd falsely laid what had transpired at Soda's feet when he'd done nothing to deserve such a charge. "And I'm not mad at you. I'm just mad in general. Anger makes it easy to come up with shit to say. Hell, it didn't even make sense at all when I said you didn't protect me. It's not like Chris started a physical fight or even made what he said too personal."

Soda put his hand over Steve's, glad when he felt his friend's return grasp. "I know I ain't the counselor in the room, but I'm wonderin' if you were just rememberin' how nobody protected you from Clara. Well, at least not until your dad found out what was going on and made her leave."

"Yeah, maybe that's why it stopped me cold when I realized the words I was about to say. It's like I was slipping into emotions I felt a long time ago."

"Which has to be really damn normal, considerin' what's gone on today." Soda moved his hand to Steve's back, his fingers tracing circles in a way that was practically automatic. "For the record, I don't think you'll hurt yourself. I just know that the kind of things you're thinkin' about have a way of leadin' to the thoughts that make you feel like it. And don't think I missed how me sayin' I'm scared for you was what started settin' you off a few minutes ago. I kinda feel like I'm pokin' a bear right now, but makin' sure you'll be safe is worth a bit of discomfort, even if you do get pissed off again."

Steve was anything but angry as he buried his face in Soda's chest, the weight of Chris' response and his own tortured recollections leaving him reeling with the heaviest spirit he'd experienced in a long time.

As Soda felt Steve squeeze him, he rested his chin on top of his friend's head, arms holding on just as securely. "It's been a long couple of weeks, Stevie. So many things mixed together. Good, bad, and some in between. But, in the end, it'll be all right. It'll work out, even if it takes some time to seem any better."

"Who's reflective now, buddy?"

Soda could hear the smile in Steve's voice, his friend not yet making a move to pull away. "Well, I've gotta be somethin', don't I? Besides, I can't let you do it alone. That ain't our way, and I'm not about to let life change us any more than it has to." Shifting so that his head touched Steve's, Soda was overcome by a resolve that he knew would guide them both through. "I'll still be here to help you chase away the darkness."

The bleeding quenched.

Band-aids covering cuts.

"What happened, Chris? Why were you doing this again? It's been years."

Admonishment from a father as he hangs his head.

An explanation dies on his tongue before he can find the words.

"Answer me, Christopher. There has to be a reason."

He looks at his dad, seeing the man who'd rescued him despite a wife's pleas and claims of innocence in the face of damnable evidence.

"Please, Son. Let me help you. Tell me what's going on."

He finally captures the words, harnessing their meaning, even as they work to break free and elude him once again. "She didn't just hurt me, Dad. I wasn't the only one."

"What? How do you know that?"

His voice now at full liberty, Christopher McBride breathes past the urge to injure his body and seeks healing. "Steve. He knew, and he knew her name. She hurt him too, and you know what I did? I threw them out. Him and Sodapop. I was a huge ass to them, and I don't know if any apology will be able to suffice."

"I feel like a walking embodiment of the term 'cumulative effect.' I can still remember Laura calling it that when a bunch of things would come together and bring me down. I wish I wasn't still like that."

Olivia had joined Steve at their dinner table, her own plate finished as her husband's remained untouched. "I think you're describing everyone, honey. If enough goes on, any human being will have it affect them. You just haven't had time to recover in between situations."

Steve studied the food in front of him, the salad and hotdog both leftovers from the party last night. "Sorry I don't feel like eating. My stomach's just too unsettled."

Olivia scooted her chair closer to Steve's then touched his waist. "Don't apologize. Don't ever be sorry for something that's out of your control. You'll eat when your appetite gets stronger again, and not a minute before. Please be patient with yourself."

Steve lifted a hand to Olivia's face, his thumb stroking her cheek as he felt the flames of love and desire morph into a soft glow of everyday care and support. "I'm trying. Thank you for being patient with me, Liv. I know seeing me like this must bring back bad memories for you too."

"Not really. It might if I didn't know the true value of having someone beside you. But I do. And I'm glad I get to be that person now. Or, in your case, one of those people. You have a whole village here, babe, so there's no way we'll let you sink."

Steve took in his wife's words, knowing he was indeed surrounded by a village comprised of loved ones who were fiercely loyal and protective, his support system one that would never be swayed.