A tunnel of blackness sprawled in front of Steve's eyes, the darkness urging him into its depths as he lay awake. He didn't even need to look at the clock to know it was the dead of night, the weight of too many reflections interrupting his sleep as September approached.

Steve left his bed, pausing momentarily at Nicholas' door as he remembered that Audrey had spent the night. While he knew his dad wouldn't push him away, he still decided against going in, choosing instead to battle this anxiety on his own. As he made his way outside, Steve wasn't even sure what had disturbed him enough to keep him awake. Or, rather, he hoped he was wrong about the possible source.

The only fact Steve could be certain about was the way in which he'd awakened with the tension filling his body and mind, as if fresh out of a flashback or nightmare. The root seemed less definite, though he knew he was approaching a significant milestone that could very well create such an anxious response.

Steve sat down on the back porch steps as he imagined what it would be like to travel back in time and change his mind. He imagined reversing his choice to attempt suicide, though he realized now that it had barely even been a choice, more like a desperate plea that had affected every facet of his life going forward. He had made his peace with what he'd done that day, copious amounts of guilt and tears doing their part to help him heal as much as was possible. But, even still, Steve had feared that effort would be for naught once he heard Soda's admissions during the following months, the words of his best friend sending him into both a spiral and a chance to fully redeem himself. Try as he might, Steve couldn't imagine his life minus his attempt. It had become too much a piece of who he was, too much of a crucial chapter in his story. He'd begun to think it had to happen, even if the so-called anniversary would always be fraught with emotions and pain he could never outrun.

Steve's train of thought led him to a more recent time as he remembered the first night he and Soda had spent in Kansas. He'd awakened his best friend for what had seemed like such an urgent reason, the weight he'd felt then a mirror of the one tonight. He could never think about his overdose without also thinking about Soda's subsequent traumas anyway, as they were so thoroughly tied together. But when they'd been in that hotel, just the two of them, Steve hadn't been able to keep his anger a secret any longer, nor could he continue to hide the hurt that had driven it into existence.

As he breathed in the night air that had begun to cool with the nearness of autumn, Steve realized the adrenaline had started to wear off, leaving in its place a steady flow of memories that reminded him reflection was still his language.

Nicholas slipped the spatula underneath a half-cooked pancake, flipping it over at the same time Steve came into the kitchen. "Morning, Son. Eating breakfast with me before work?"

Steve had gotten dressed in a hurry after getting up a little late. He'd gone back to bed, apparently sleeping quite soundly, and was now pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "Sure. I have time. Where's Audrey?"

"She had to be at the store early, so she left about half an hour ago. I hope her staying here last night didn't make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine. I told you that already, Dad. She's your fiancee and I'm about to turn twenty. I can handle you having a romantic life inside our house."

"I know." Nicholas brought a stack of pancakes to the table as he and Steve both sat down to eat. "But there's a difference between handling it and being comfortable."

"Okay. I'm comfortable with it then. That's just semantics. Besides, I love Audrey, and I'm glad you have her. If you want, you can even stay the night at her place once in a while."

"You wouldn't mind being alone?"

"Well, maybe. But, if it matters, I can always call Soda. He'd come over and spend the night with me." Steve added syrup and butter to his pancake as he realized how he sounded. "Even if that is pretty pathetic at my age."

Nicholas shook his head, pointing his fork at Steve as he spoke. "It's not pathetic, Son. It's always a good thing when you can ask for what you need."

"Yeah, I guess I just don't think I ought to always need somebody with me at night anymore. But it's comforting. I like knowing someone else is at least in the next room. It's hard to make that make sense when I'm an adult now though."

"It makes sense to me. And I may not know everything about what Sodapop's been through in the past year and a half, but I can imagine it makes sense to him too."

"Yeah, I don't think he'd like being alone all night either. But we both do better than either of us used to." As Steve cut up the rest of his pancake, he remembered sitting out on the porch during the night before, the handful of hours which had passed since then allowing for peace that had seemed unattainable just two years ago. "Even when something happens at night, coming back from it's not so impossible. Nightmares and flashbacks don't automatically get the upper hand."

"Yeah, she's growin' so fast, Stevie. Even tryin' to crawl already."

Steve had followed Soda back into the main part of the DX station, as the two had just finished up with working on the brakes of a 59' Chevy. "She'll be walking before you know it, man. Talking too. That'll be fun to see."

Soda often thought about Emily's milestones and how he had the privilege to be there for them, even if he'd never have a front row seat in the role of a parent. But something about it felt different at the moment, the usual anticipation laced with stress. "Sure. She'll be turnin' into a little person right before my eyes. Which just makes the whole thing a lot more real."

Steve saw Soda's expression change from what it had been, cheer morphing into hurt. "Hey, maybe we should talk about something else, buddy. It looks like this subject is trying to bring you down, and I don't want to do that."

"Nah. I'm fine. I'm real happy about seein' Emily do everything. But thinkin' ahead makes me nervous about what it'll be like to be birth father to a kid old enough to understand stuff."

"You mean old enough to understand she's adopted?"

"Yeah. I mean, she's going to wonder who the hell I am, right? Penny too. I don't want to lie to her about us and who we are."

Steve rested his elbows on the front counter as he watched Soda, who now stood in front of the register, his best friend's hands fidgeting without the focus of the physical work in the garage. "You wouldn't be lying to Emily, Soda. No matter how it goes"

"But won't I? I'll be around her and in her life, and she might not even know why. What if Samuel and Vivian don't tell her?"

"You need to talk to them about that, brother. Ask them what the plan is. Hell, there may not even be one yet. You can't explain adoption to a toddler. But I wouldn't think they'd keep where she came from a secret forever. Especially when things are so open."

Soda gazed out the front windows of the DX station, their glass allowing him to view the activity in the surrounding area as teens spent what remained of their summer break. "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't make a lot of sense, huh? She'll ask questions someday, and she has a right to hear the answers."

Steve laid his hand on Soda's shoulder as they both heard the sound of the bell that signaled a customer's arrival. "She does. Whenever the time comes anyway. But, like I said, you need to go to them with this. Seriously, man. You know how much Samuel wants things to be transparent, and he wants to help you if you're worried about anything to do with the adoption."

"Yeah, he's been good about it so far too. He always listens to me."

"Exactly, buddy. And you also know there's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, but I don't have the words you need for this. And I don't make the decisions about Emily either. So the best I can do is point you in the right direction."

"Which is Samuel." Though Soda had come a long way as far as reconciling the facts of the adoption and his role therein, it still wasn't without occasional notes of sadness and uncertainty. "He can help me with my questions, and maybe that'll make this better. It has before. Whenever my thoughts start spinnin' out of control, he always has a way of puttin' my mind at ease."

"I knew something was bothering me, but I'm sort of still in denial about what it probably was."

Laura had just begun her session with Steve, the young man describing to her how his previous night had gone. "Okay. What do you believe is the cause behind your anxiety?"

Steve had expected Laura to ask for his perspective first, as she was always one to focus the most on his point-of-view. "The fact that it's about to be September. I wish that didn't bother me, but it's like the month I tried to kill myself will always be a symbol. Even two years later, it still is."

"This is a great place to start, Steve. Can you tell me what you see September as a symbol of?"

"Well, I feel like I should say something like survival or life. Or even hope. But I want to say things like betrayal and confusion. The positive spin didn't come till I was recovering in October."

"Because your attempt occurred at the very end of the month. You spent all of September facing difficulty and conflict, and your overdose was basically the culmination. What parts are you remembering when you say betrayal and confusion?"

Steve didn't allow himself to go to that time period very often, as some aspects of it represented even more pain than his actual suicide attempt. "Evie. The flashback I had when we were about to have sex. Finding out she kissed that other guy. Grace too. And when I first saw her at church. There was too much going on, and when I remember having all these feelings at once, it's no wonder I tried to die. The memories were just too constant, and I thought that would last forever."

Laura could tell that Steve was slipping into a solemn reflection, but his words told her that her client recognized his progress. "And what else do you think September is a symbol for?"

"Fear. Because I was so scared of what my thoughts could make me want to do." As Steve remembered his initial thought of what it would be like to overdose, he couldn't help but also think of how he had received such support in response. "But I can say devotion too. Soda would've dropped anything to listen to me, and he was so good when I first told him about the suicidal thoughts. So was my dad. I always had someone to go to, no matter what I felt or what I did. They never let go of me."

"I believe you can add honesty to this list. Though you did ultimately act on your thoughts, you were truthful about them. With Sodapop and your dad and with me as well. And when you overdosed, your instinct was to get help immediately."

"Yeah. Everything would've been worse if I was dishonest. When I was awake last night, I was thinking about my attempt itself, but I also realized that I can't picture my life without it either. If I try to go back and imagine it not happening, I can't do it. I've called my overdose a kind of blessing before, but it's like more than that because I can't see myself without that time now."

"I can understand how that would be. You learned a lot during your recovery, and as we've discussed very often, your own experience allowed you to be there for Sodapop as empathetically as possible."

"Right. I was thinking about our trip to Kansas last night too. Waking up as suddenly as I did reminded me of when I did that in the hotel and woke Soda up because I wasn't quite over him and the cough syrup."

"I remember. And from what you told me afterwards, you also needed to admit the anger that you'd been feeling because of how he chose to leave on his own in response to the adoption situation."

"I did. I couldn't keep that from him forever, and I was really on this heartfelt kick the whole weekend. But that seems to suit us well enough anyway. So did reading the story of Elijah out of the Bible. It's something, you know? To be able to relate to somebody from a damn long time ago. And me and Soda both can 'cause Elijah felt so bad. I mean, sure, the problem he had was very different from what we could have nowadays, but the result is the same."

Laura had heard all about the trip in the session they'd had a few days after it ended, but she could see that Steve was set on discussing the topic again. "I think being able to identify with someone else is healthy most of the time. And Old Testament people were just as human as we are, just as prone to emotions."

"I know I was especially that on our trip, and I wonder if it's happening again." Steve remembered how, upon finishing the Bible story, he'd been drawn to tell Soda about what he'd shared with Laura during the session a few days earlier. "Just because I'm thinking about those moments when I opened up even more. It's like I'll think certain things are just topics I can't talk about outside of here, but then I do."

"That sounds like a testament to the strong relationships in your life. Your thoughts and feelings aren't confined to therapy."

"I made Soda worry about me then though, and I hate doing that. But us being alone the way we were really opened a door for me a couple of different times."

Laura noticed a commonality within Steve's words and decided to point it out. "Openness is a theme of your friendship. You open up to each other, and being close opens the door to transparency."

"Yeah, it makes me sound redundant, doesn't it? You already know what we're like, and you already know that I told Soda how I feel about the night we spent talking when he was on the verge of suicidal. It hasn't changed either. I still cherish those memories."

"I'm not expecting that to change. In fact, I'd rather you keep the perspective you have. It's healthier than looking at them negatively."

"I guess it is. And Soda sure didn't mind or anything. He just asked me why. That was a pretty easy answer too. I can't tell why I'm getting fixated on this now though."

"I have an idea about that actually. One that's in a similar vein as your inclination to care so much about this upcoming September."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together as his defenses rose in a way that was rare when he interacted with Laura. "Inclination? Is that what you think this is? I'm not just inclined to care. I do care. And I care because it's been two years since I tried to take my own life. I've spent this whole time trying to be at peace with that too. I've spent two years trying to reconcile the idea that I should regret my decision with the fact that I don't."

"I didn't mean anything negative or hurtful with my words, and I know that you do care. What I'm trying to point out though, is how your reflections create a natural loop back to Sodapop."

Steve took a deep breath as he felt the offense he'd somehow taken ebb away. "I'm sorry. I was being ridiculous. I know you didn't mean anything bad. Why do you call it a natural loop? What's that mean?"

"Just that your experience with your suicide attempt very easily links with the specific memories you were telling me about. As you're reflecting on your overdose and what led to it, of course your mind will go to the moments Sodapop did what you weren't able to at that time."

"Oh. You mean because he asked for help instead of going through with what he was thinking about?"

"Yes. And not just in the vaguest sense of asking for help. From what you've told me, what happened was much more than that, as the two of you shared in such a vulnerable time."

Steve could see the connection Laura had made for him, now understanding why his thoughts had so eagerly flowed from his suicide attempt to the scary nights which had taken place less than a year and a half ago. "It seems so obvious after you pointed it out. I've already known for a while how the traumas that have happened to me and Soda can't be totally separated. That was true when they were happening, and it's still true now. Even though things have been pretty calm for the last few months."

"Which possibly allows you some time to process your memories without current triggers or pressure."

Steve couldn't help but wonder if this cycle would ever end, as he'd taken every action he could to mend the wounds created by his attempt. "I didn't even know I still needed to process anything. I've done that over and over. But it's worse this year somehow. Last September, yeah, I thought about my overdose quite a bit. I didn't get anxious in the middle of the night though. I didn't feel tense like I'd just had a flashback or a nightmare either. So what the hell is wrong with me?"

Laura was unbothered by the curse, as she knew the heart behind it from learning so much about Steve over the past two years. "Nothing. Be gentle with yourself. Now, tell me, how long has it been since you began disclosing and confronting the abuse?"

"Just a little over two years. You know that."

"I do. And how long has it been since your suicide attempt? I understand we've covered that, but I'm going somewhere with this."

"Almost two years for that too. What are you wanting me to see?"

Laura continued forward, even as she saw Steve's expression grow more puzzled. "How long since Sodapop got shot?"

"Almost a year and a half."

"So it's been a little less than that since you saw him struggling with flashbacks and depression, as well as the feelings he had in response to hearing about the abuse and your overdose"

"Yeah. And that just kind of got spread out over months 'cause he didn't tell me everything all at once."

"Right. Plenty has been ongoing. Also, how long since you were last admitted to the hospital?"

"Just a little over a year now That was last July."

"Would it be correct for me to say you've had a relatively stable several months then?"

Steve paused for a moment as he thought about his answer, a series of memories from the past year keeping him company with their mix of joy, relief, and sadness. "Yeah, that would be right, I think. It hasn't been perfect, but I sure haven't been unstable either. The only tough things recently have been adjusting to my dad getting engaged and helping Soda handle being a birth father. Both have had their intense times, but nothing has gotten out of control."

"Which is why I can definitely say you've also experienced plenty of emotions during these months. But my point is you've had a consistent stretch of time that's been mostly healthy and constructive. So I'm wondering if it's allowing you to look back and reflect a bit more than you could have at this time last year."

"Maybe. I was real reflective back in the spring too though. But it didn't make me anxious then. Just all melancholy and sentimental."

"Like I said, you were coping with a variety of emotions. But the key is how you sought support through all of it. This may or may not be relevant to your feelings at that time, but spring brought some anniversaries of sorts along with it as well."

"Yeah. I didn't really think about it before, but March was right at a year since the shooting, and of course, so much happened just after. Enough that I can hardly believe it sometimes. It kind of feels like it was another life, a different world. In some ways, it was, and I had no idea I'd end up carrying those memories so close to my heart."

Laura watched Steve's expression become what she'd witnessed many times before, her client's face one of remembrance as he focused on a time that had passed. "But it's okay that you do, Steve, and it's also okay for you to feel anything you do about your overdose. Whether you're anxious, sad about the circumstances that led to it, or even just connecting it to how you were there for Sodapop during the darkest phases of his depression, you're in a place that's valid and healthy as far as continuing to recover."

Steve appreciated the reminder, even though he found he didn't need it, as he was much more secure in his perspective. By the same token, he had become accustomed to viewing his attempt to take his own life as a facet of his identity "You know what I haven't felt even once when I think about my overdose now?"

"What?"

"Guilt. My mind doesn't go there anymore. It used to be all I could feel when I thought about my attempt. It used to consume me and make it harder to be a guy who survived. But I don't feel guilty now. Not even a little bit." Steve remembered the times he'd poured his heart out within this very office, the memories like snapshots that captured the most vulnerable and authentic moments he'd ever experienced. "I do feel like I've finally come out on the other side of this. Like my heart can look back and still be safe from what once almost destroyed it, and my spirit is no longer in danger."

Steve arrived at the Curtis house later on to find his best friend adding food coloring to the macaroni and cheese on the stove. "Hey, man, I thought you were over the colorful food phase of life."

Soda stirred the newly colored food, spreading the red throughout. "Nah. Not quite. I enjoy it too much. So, how was the rest of your afternoon?"

"You ask that like a guy who doesn't know where I went after work."

"No. I ask it like a guy who's not sure if you want to talk about your counseling appointment."

Steve chuckled as Soda opened up a bottle of green food coloring and squeezed it into the bowl of mashed potatoes that was on the counter. "What is this, buddy? Christmas?"

"Yep. Christmas on the second to last day of August. Time to get in the spirit of the season, don't you think?"

"Hell, yeah, let me go get my Santa suit. But, to answer your question, my session was all over the place today."

"All over the place? What's that mean?"

"Just that I did some of everything. Talked about a lot of different stuff, not only one thing."

"Sounds good. At least I think it is." Soda checked on the chicken that was baking in the oven, placing lids on the mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese as his eyes then shifted to Steve, whose words implied he had more to add. "My ear's all yours if you need to talk, Stevie. I know you just did a lot of that, but it still is."

Steve was unsure what was making him hesitate, as it wasn't unusual for the two friends to discuss their counseling appointments "I was up in the middle of the night, Soda. With this heavy anxiety. I want to believe it was just random, but I know it wasn't. The timing tells me too much."

"What do you mean? What was makin' you anxious?"

"Remembering my suicide attempt. Thinking about how it's almost September."

"So that's what you told Laura about today? How it's comin' up on two years?"

As Steve saw the way Soda stared at him, the compassion so clear in the man's gaze, he knew why his hesitation hadn't completely abated. "Are you okay to listen to me talk about this, buddy?"

"Why wouldn't I be? We've talked about your overdose plenty of times now."

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to make sure talking about it again won't hurt you or bring certain feelings back."

Soda took Steve's arm and led him over to the table, not letting go even once they'd both sat down. "Stevie, listen to me. I ain't lettin' anything get in the way of bein' here for you. I've talked through every feeling I've had since your attempt. With Dr. Morgan and with you. So I'm okay now, and I don't want you to be too worried or afraid to tell me stuff about how you're doin'. Trust me, I can handle it."

"I know you can, but it's not just that. There's also this part of me going back to more than my overdose, and it's tough to keep from feeling like you don't need to be remembering any of that either." Steve shook his head, holding it with both hands as he realized it was spinning with thoughts he barely knew how to articulate. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Well, so far, I'm gettin' that you're reflectin' on your attempt, and it made you anxious. So you were awake during the night. And it's not the only thing you're thinkin' about. I ain't real sure what else there is, but you don't gotta protect me"

"I feel like I do though, man. You had all that guilt over what I did, then you were suicidal too. But you did better than I could. You asked for help, like you were supposed to. I was telling Laura about how we were at the hotel in Kansas in the spring because something about the way I woke up last night reminded me of how I did the same thing then."

"Which does make sense, buddy. You were thinkin' about somethin' different, but it still fits."

Steve replayed in his mind the details of his session with Laura, remembering how each topic had segued into another. "Yeah, and now it's making me see how everything is connected again. Thinking about my overdose makes me remember how we read about Elijah and how I told you I cherish those memories we have."

"Sure. 'Cause you were there for me when I needed it the most, and that meant a lot to you."

"It did. Laura said she thinks I'm remembering that too because you did what I couldn't. I was in so deep, asking for help wasn't possible till after I took the pills."

Soda felt the familiar twinge of worry that always accompanied these kinds of moments. He knew Steve wasn't where he had once been in terms of his suicide attempt, but that was something capable of changing. "And I get that, man. I hope you're not beatin' yourself up. I don't want you to end up how you were last summer either when you had to go in the hospital. Though I know there was a lot more to why than just you rememberin' stuff."

"I'm not beating myself up, just stating the truth." Steve grasped Soda's shoulder at the same time he rested his head there, finding security in both the touch and his best friend's return hold. "I think it's easier in some ways for me to look at my attempt like it was a beginning. Like a start. But it wasn't. Laura and I talked about what came just before too."

Soda put his hand on Steve's back, not thinking twice about keeping him close. "Stevie, it sounds like you didn't quite get done today when you were with her. Not sayin' anything is wrong with that though. We can talk too, and you can take me wherever you need to go in those memories."

"Yeah, maybe I didn't get all the way to where my head was trying to take me. But I don't think I saw it yet then. I'm so used to digging into my overdose that I kind of forget it didn't happen on its own or all at once." Steve lifted his head from Soda's shoulder, only to lay it back down a few seconds later. "I think some of the questions Laura asked me triggered something. 'Cause I hardly even think about the weeks leading up to my attempt. I'm always too focused on the aftermath."

Soda could see how this was true, as he had also lost sight of the complexities which had preceded Steve trying to end his life. Even so, as the middle Curtis embraced his third brother, he could acknowledge that the moments embedded within that time would always be unforgettable.