A cold sweat broke out all over Steve's body as he struggled to wake up, a touch making him cry out. "No. Please stop. Go away. I promise I'll be good."

"It's just me, Son. You're safe."

Steve wrestled with the dream that had taken him back to becoming a victim, this nightmare one which encapsulated every experience Clara had used to hurt him. "No! I don't want to! Don't tell my dad. He'll hate me."

"Steve, wake up. You're dreaming. That's not happening anymore. It's been over for a long time, and she's gone."

Steve jerked forward, almost rolling off the couch as his eyes opened to see Nicholas there beside him. "Dad, what's going on? Why am I in here?"

Nicholas could see that Steve was shaking, so he reached out to soothe him with a hand on his arm. "You fell asleep pretty soon after you got out of the shower. I just let you be until you started dreaming."

"Oh. What time is it? Did I wake you up?"

"You did, but it's okay. It's a little after midnight, so you've been here a while. You can come sleep with me if you want. This seems like a night for it."

Steve imagined nuzzling close to Nicholas, the picture in his mind like a prayer that could drive away his trauma. "Are you sure? It's been months since I've done that, and I don't want to bother you again tonight."

"You're not bothering me, Son, and you never have." Nicholas hoped that the timidness he saw in his son right now could be chocked up to the dream which had exploited Steve's most horrific childhood memory. "If being close will help, I want to be there for you. No matter how long it's been, that hasn't changed."

Steve remembered more of his nightmare than he wanted to, certain that his brain had become vulnerable to such an intrusion because of how he'd reflected on the time before his overdose. Though talking was so often his saving grace, it didn't come without risks. "I was talking in my sleep, right? What did I say?"

Nicholas almost hated to repeat the words he'd head Steve say as he responded to the kind of dream that had become fewer and farther between, yet never completely ceased. "You were saying stop and no and promising to be good. Then you said you didn't want to and that I would hate you."

"I'm sorry, Dad. For ever thinking that." Steve felt Nicholas' arms engulf him at the same time tears sprang to his eyes. "I know you never could've blamed me. I was just afraid because of her and what she made me do."

"Shh. It's okay, Steve." Nicholas had come so far in forgiving himself regarding his own role in his son's pain. But he couldn't listen to Steve now without recalling how he'd treated his child in a manner that contributed to the fear and shame Clara had instilled in him. "We've been through all this before, Son, and we're in a great place with each other. You never need to apologize for how you felt back then. You did nothing wrong."

Steve remembered the many times Nicholas had held him during the last two years, head again resting on his dad's chest as he fought mightily with a wave of emotion. "But I am now. I woke you up, and I'm making you think about stuff that's painful for you too."

"No. You had a nightmare, and that isn't your fault. It took you back to memories I'm sorry you have, but I'm glad I'm awake to take care of you." Nicholas was gentle as he pushed Steve away just enough to see his eyes. "And I think what you need the most is to go to bed. Sleep will help you calm down. Come lie beside me, and you'll feel better by morning."

Steve now saw in Nicholas the man who would protect and comfort him at any cost, the view he had of his dad no longer tainted by Clara's actions. "Okay. I want that, and I want to be close to you too."

Nicholas switched off the lamp he'd turned on earlier, guiding Steve from the couch to his room. After they both had climbed into the bed, he cradled his son once more, feeling the young man curl into the offer of shelter and love. As Nicholas closed his eyes, he prayed for the remainder of Steve's night to be filled with a peace that no nightmare would be able to penetrate, for the little boy that still lived within him to find rest at last.

"What the hell happened last night, Dad? I feel like something did, but I can't really remember much of anything."

Nicholas had gotten out of bed about half an hour before, leaving Steve to sleep for a while longer as he enjoyed a cup of coffee. "You had a nightmare, so you came and slept with me."

Steve put two slices of bread in the toaster, waiting for them to pop up as bit and pieces of the previous night came flooding back. "I remember the dream. Was I... disoriented?"

"You could say that. It took some coaxing to get you to accept what you needed."

"Oh. I remember you holding me and crying a little bit."

"You were emotional, Son. I think the dream got to you and made some old feelings come up again."

"Yeah. I guess so. I acted like a little kid, didn't I?"

"No. You acted like someone who needed help to get through your pain. Like someone whose sleep got interrupted by a bad memory."

Steve got a sense of deja vu at the same time he heard the toast pop up. He knew he'd had a nearly identical conversation with Nicholas before, that one taking place after he'd sought a hug and a prayer from his dad in the midst of post-attempt flashbacks. "Yeah. I was that. I'm not sure why it seems so fuzzy. I've had worse nights."

"You were probably drowsy. You'd only had a few hours of sleep."

"That's true." Steve spread butter on the toast, still remembering parts of what he'd said during his time awake overnight. "I think I hesitated to come sleep with you because I thought I was past needing stuff like that. But just one dream made things different."

"We both know that's all it takes, Son."

"We sure do."

Nicholas got up from the table, cup of coffee in hand as he slipped his arm around Steve. "I'm not sure if you need to hear this right now, but it's okay if you need it. There's a lot I didn't do for you when you were younger, and I like having the chance."

"But you've had a lot of chances since then. I hope you don't still feel like you have to make that up to me."

"Sometimes I do. Forgiving myself hasn't been a single act."

Steve knew that was true for himself as well. He'd experienced the ebb and flow that came along with choosing to accept the compassionate view of his own choices. "Yeah, it can go back and forth. You know what my dream was about, right? From what I said?"

"Yes. I caught on quite easily because I could never forget what you told me had happened."

Steve took small bites of his breakfast, noticing that Nicholas' arm remained around him as he clearly remembered how the shame he'd felt in the past had again bled into the present and influenced his interaction with his father. "Letting go hasn't been a single act for me either. Those feelings go back and forth too. I'm not a kid anymore, but that shame still does what it did then. No matter what I choose to tell myself every day, a dream still has enough power to paralyze me."

"Hey, Stevie, check this out."

Steve had just come in from the garage to find Soda at the front counter, two coins spinning on its surface. "Man, you've got too much time on your hands."

Soda used his thumb and pointer finger to spin a third coin, a quarter, nickel, and dime now moving together. "Hey, I think I deserve it after such a busy day. It's like everyone's out tryin' to squeeze in that last little bit of summer vacation before school starts up again."

"They sure are. It's always like that at the tail end of August though. Speaking of, when is Penny planning to leave?"

"Probably Tuesday or Wednesday. She wants time to get settled in before classes start. At first, she thought she'd go a little bit sooner, but I guess she changed her mind." Soda watched the three coins as they slowed down, hearing each clatter to the counter. "We're going out tomorrow night, and she wants to visit Emily over the weekend."

"I know you'll miss her, buddy. I wish there was more I could say."

"I'm okay about it. We'll see each other whenever we can." Soda grabbed the now-still coins and put them in his pocket, his focus shifting to Steve. "Has somethin' been going on with you today?"

"Why?"

"You've just seemed like it. I can sense this stuff."

"It's not anything I want to talk about here."

"All right. I can dig that. You're leavin' at six, ain't you?"

"Yeah. I told Mr. Coleman I'd stay late."

"Well, you know you can come over if you want. We can talk again if you need it."

"I know. Thanks, man." Steve didn't really have to wonder what Soda had noticed, as he realized his mood had been off. He'd just thought he did a better job of hiding it, especially given how much they both had to do throughout the day. "Something sort of happened last night, and I guess I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Not totally anyway. Just enough to focus on stuff in the garage and not be too distracted to get anything accomplished."

"That's just it though. You looked too focused, like there was somethin' you were needin' to escape."

"Well, that's not wrong. Sorry I'm talking around it, Soda. It's not you, just that this is a still a public place."

"Aw, don't you even think about apologizin', Stevie. I know there's a reason if you're not wantin' to go into detail here."

Just the mere thought of the dream he'd had the night before made Steve feel exposed, as if a customer could pull up for a tank of gas and become privy to the secret that he had once been sure he would never tell a soul. Not even after he began opening up about the sexual abuse. "Yeah, it's too personal, I guess you could say." Yes, Steve thought. Too sensitive. Too intimate. "But I'll tell you later, man. You deserve more than having to listen to me talk in circles."

Soda put his card into the time clock, punching out for the day as he tried not to worry too much about Steve. "Can you just tell me one thing before I go?"

"I think so."

"Is this anything to do with what we were talkin' about at my house last night?"

"Kind of. Maybe not directly, but you know how old issues can be." How they connect, Steve thought. How they're like dominoes that look stable until something comes along and makes them fall. "One is always affecting another." And it only takes a single push, he mused, to bring them all crashing down.

"I'm sorry I tried to put you in the middle of that, Soda. I know it's still tough for you when we fight."

Soda poured oil into the Chevy, checking the level as he replied to Pony's apology. "I ain't upset about that, Pone. You just needed somebody to hear you out. It's pretty easy to see where both of ya'll were comin' from though, even if Darry sounded harsher than he meant to be."

Pony heard the hood of the car slam shut, he and Soda then moving to the front porch. "Yeah, well, you're always the best at empathy. Darry and me worked things out between us, so maybe we'll be better at communicating from now on. How's Steve doing?"

Soda sat down on the swing as he lit a cigarette, smoking an even rarer habit for him since life had been less tumultuous. "Your attention sure does go to him awful easy lately. But, anyway, I think he's doin' okay. Last night, he just needed to get a few things off his chest. It's hard, you know? Recovery's not this one event or somethin' that ends."

"You mean recovery from what happened when he was a kid? Is that still bothering him a lot? I thought it wasn't anymore."

"It doesn't as much, but sometimes it comes up. That ain't really the kind of thing that ever goes away. And it's not just about what happened a long time ago either. He's recoverin' from the last couple of years too."

"You mean like his suicide attempt?"

"Yeah. That's a huge part of it."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you still recovering from the same stuff?"

Soda hadn't given much thought to himself in this context because, as far as he could tell, he'd already done every bit of work possible to deal with the ways Steve's plight had affected him. But he still couldn't say no to Pony's question, as the internal repercussions didn't cease to exist for him either. "Well, yeah, I guess I am, Pone. It obviously ain't the same, and I don't need what Steve does. But it's a recovery for me too. I've had a lot of my own feelings and memories to cope with. You saw that as much as anybody else did. I'm better now though. Probably the best I've been in a pretty long while."

Pony watched Soda as he puffed on the cigarette, the expression on his middle brother's face not quite matching his words. "Not to sound like a jerk, but you don't seem too great at the moment."

"I'm fine. You just threw me off a little with this whole conversation we're havin'. One minute, I was changin' my oil and talkin' about you and Darry. Then the next, you were askin' me about Steve, like there's somethin' to be worried about or like you don't know how all this works."

"Well, maybe I don't. I never know what to expect with you and Steve. I don't know whether to believe you're both okay or get scared that you're not. I can't read ya'll, Soda. So I have to ask questions."

Soda closed his eyes as he exhaled smoke one last time before putting out the cigarette that wasn't doing much for him anyway. "For somebody who's the best at empathy, I sure missed that, huh? There ain't anything to be scared about, Pony. Steve and me are all right, and we know what to do any time we might not be."

"Talk to each other?"

"Yeah. Or to anybody else who loves us. 'Cause recovery is all about sharin' and bein' there for each other. It doesn't happen if we try to do it by ourselves."

Pony noticed something that, not long ago, would've made him jealous. "You talk about Steve and yourself like you two are a unit or one entity. Like you're walking the same path, and it never separates."

"I guess I kind of do look at us that way, but we are two different people. It's just that our paths run close to one another, so even when they twist and turn, they always circle back to our common ground."

"I know you've had nightmares, Soda. But these aren't like anyone else's. It's not the same when they're of something like this."

Soda had arrived at the Randle house just after 7:00 and was now in Steve's room as his friend confided in him about the previous night. "I get that, Stevie. I'm just sayin' I know how it feels to wake up from bad dreams. I know what that anxiety is like and how heavy it can be, especially when you're havin' nightmares of somethin' that actually happened to you."

Steve realized that his spoken frustration had been misplaced a moment ago, as Soda was only empathizing with him. Yet, he'd attempted to deny it, as if his friend couldn't understand on some level. "I'm sorry, man. I made it sound like you don't know what I'm talking about, but I know you do. I know-"

"Hey, no apology needed. You ain't even wrong with what you said. I wasn't abused, so the dreams you've had are different from mine. Just like the ones I've had are tough to deal with in their own right. But we ain't here to compare anyway, are we? Like we've both said before, it's not a contest."

"No, it's not. And I didn't even tell you all of it yet. I dreamed about a specific part of the abuse, and it still really gets to me. I wish it didn't."

"Me too, buddy. So what was in the dream? Is it somethin' you've told me about?"

"Of course. 'Cause I've told you everything there is." Steve lay down on his bed, eyes closing as he let his mind roam through the details of the dream, trusting Soda to listen and comfort him. "I dreamed about Clara making me touch her. How I told her I didn't want to, but she grabbed my hands and forced me. She wouldn't listen when I said no, and she wouldn't go away. In the dream, I begged her not to tell my dad 'cause I didn't want him to hate me. I know now that he wouldn't have, but it still makes me feel so ashamed to remember what she made me do and how I was scared enough to believe what she wanted me to."

Soda touched the back of Steve's head as he settled near him, his friend's eyes then opening in response. "I'm strugglin' with what to say here 'cause I know my words can't fix stuff like this, and you've heard so many times that you have nothin' to be ashamed of. That never stops bein' true, not even when a nightmare brings those memories and feelings back. I want you to know how thankful I am that you can talk to me about it though. Maybe I can't make the pain better, but I can help you cope."

"Hell, yeah, buddy. You always do. I think my mind picked that memory because it's the scariest one. It's the night that I felt the most helpless."

"I can see why. I still remember when you first told me about it two years ago."

"Me too. I couldn't tell anybody until after I wrote it down in that notebook Laura gave me. Out of all the shit that went on when I was being abused, it was the hardest to face. Maybe that's why the flashback I had in math class the day I overdosed ended up being the last straw. I could feel Clara's hands on my wrists then. I could feel her pulling me too close."

Soda made sure to take Steve's hand, reminding his friend of his present safety, as well as the healthy relationships that now abounded in his life. "But you've done everything in the world to overcome what she put you through. You've faced it, taken it apart piece-by-piece. Been open and honest and so damn real that I couldn't be prouder to call you my brother."

Steve squeezed the hand that was wrapped around his own, knowing he was about to delve into yet another layer of authenticity. "I've never said the word, Soda."

"What word?"

"The correct one for what I believe she would've done with more chances. For what I think she actually wanted to do to me. I've never said the word rape."

"'Cause you didn't have to, Stevie. I knew what you meant before when you said you thought she might've gone further."

"I know. But it still needs to be said." Steve sat up, his hand still gripping Soda's as he remembered the mindset he'd had as a child, his brain not developmentally in a place to comprehend the stakes of the abuse or to label it with the right vocabulary. "I was a little boy who barely knew anything about sex. I'm not sure if I even knew how it works. So I couldn't realize then that she might try to rape me. I couldn't see how her being rougher and more forceful could mean she might want something even more physical once the touching wasn't enough for her."

Soda's stomach nearly turned itself inside out as he imagined Clara escalating the abuse she'd perpetrated on his best friend, the picture in his head now much more violent. "Of course you couldn't. You knew that what she was doin' was bad and wrong. You couldn't predict anything or guess what she might do next. You were just workin' on livin' with that pain you felt like you couldn't tell anybody about."

"I was living right where she wanted me to stay. I was the perfect victim because I kept quiet. If she had raped me, I wouldn't have opened my mouth then either."

"Buddy, I've gotta tell you somethin' here. I know you're in this place where you need to think about things, and believe me, I'm all for whatever you need or want. But I ain't so sure it's good to dwell too much on what could've happened."

Steve shook his head, letting go of Soda's hand as he turned away from what he saw as his friend's flawed perception. "You're not getting it, Soda. That's the thing. It doesn't matter how much you care or how much you want to help or even how much you love me. You can't see what happened the way I do. Don't get me wrong 'cause I thank God that you were safe from Clara. But it also means you can't understand how I look at the night we've been talking about. You can't look back and feel what it means for me or for that little kid I used to be."

"No. Of course I can't. I ain't sayin' I can. But I do feel what it's like to think about her doin' what you just said. It makes me sick, and I don't want you to get caught up in that shame again when you've come so far in findin' some peace with it."

"I think it's too late for that, man. I'm already there. 'Cause this is something else I didn't really deal with yet. Yeah, I told you and my dad about her making me touch her and how I think it would've gotten worse. But that's just the surface."

"How, Stevie? And what do you mean it's somethin' else?"

Steve felt both of Soda's hands come to rest on his back, now regretting how he'd pulled away from his friend a few moments before. "I didn't mean to, Soda."

"You didn't mean to what?"

"I didn't mean to make it sound like you're wrong about dwelling too much on what could've happened. 'Cause you're right. But it's not just that she could have raped me. It's knowing what did happen. I didn't understand then how innocent I really was, you know? I felt dirty and ashamed without any kind of grasp on what Clara was after for herself. Or how she must've thought of me."

"She didn't think of you at all, and she was after control and power. Maybe I can't feel what you do or see your memories the same way, but I don't have to. I've learned a heck of a lot just from listenin' to you, so I know enough to understand what kind of person she was. She wanted to hurt you, and nothin' else mattered to her except knowin' she could get away with it."

Steve couldn't deny that this was true, but he was looking at a different facet of what Clara had done, hindsight and knowledge making him realize what she had probably been seeking. As a kid, he'd known too little about sex to even venture a guess as to what was in her mind, but he couldn't recall her actions now without believing she saw him as a means to an end. "I think that night was an attempt. At rape. I never said that word before, and now I'm saying it too much."

Soda put his arms around Steve, hugging him from behind. "That's okay. You're sayin' what you need to. I know it's tough, but I'll listen to every bit of it for as long as it takes."

Steve hung on to the arms that were holding him, feeling his friend's head on his shoulder. "Soda, I'm sorry I keep putting you through this, buddy. It's always another thing. Another layer. I can never get through all of it."

"That ain't your fault, Stevie. You've gotta stop apologizin' when you're not doin' anything wrong. I want you to tell me when you figure out somethin' else. 'Cause you don't need to be on your own with that."

Steve turned so that he could lean his head on Soda's chest, now resting more comfortably as the other man held him. "I didn't mean to pull away from you before. It's just that I knew I was getting close to what I needed to say, even though it did take some time to get there."

"I know. And it's okay to admit you got frustrated 'cause there's stuff only you can see and understand. So, tell me a little more about it then. I should've said this before but help me see what you do. Help me know what it means so I can look back with you."

"Are you sure? I don't want to make you sick."

"I'm sure. You won't make me sick, buddy. No matter how I feel, it ain't on you anyway."

Steve felt his hands as they clutched Soda tighter at the same time he remembered the details which were leading to the conclusion he'd drawn. "She was on me, Soda. Not just close. And I think she was trying to use my touch to get herself, you know, ready. Sexually."

Soda ignored the nausea that threatened him at the concept, channeling the same energy into being fully present for Steve. "She was screwed up, Stevie. If she could look at you like that, she deserved to suffer in hell. But that little boy you used to be was my best friend back then too, and he deserved to feel safe and loved. He didn't deserve any shame or harm."

"But what about now? What do I deserve when I can see that memory for what it is? When I can see that I was like this object to her? Or just a boy she could use to satisfy herself? I don't know how I can even think so much about this. 'Cause I hate knowing how awful it actually is. I hate realizing that the only thing she didn't do is rape me."

Soda focused on keeping his voice calm as he reassured Steve, certain that he would cry later just from hearing the questions his friend felt the need to ask. "Now is the same. You deserve to feel safe and loved. You deserve to be held and for somebody to hear what you're sayin'. You still don't deserve shame or the pain that comes with a bad memory. You can think about it the way you are 'cause that's just part of the process. Especially this week when your overdose is on your mind more than usual."

Steve pulled away from the embrace, though he could still feel one of Soda's arms keeping its hold on him. "I know it's sick, but I wonder why she didn't go through with it. I wonder why she stopped. I mean, I know it was possible for- 'Cause my body..."

"There's no tellin', buddy. As fucked up as this sounds, maybe rape is where she drew the line. Or maybe she didn't want to take a chance on leavin' any evidence behind. We'll never know. Honestly, I'm glad she ain't here to try to explain or justify 'cause nothin' she could say would do anything besides hurt you all over again."

"And I'm already doing that to myself. What is it? Do I get some kind of kick out of digging into a terrible memory? Does something about it feel good to me?"

"No. I think it's just a release, Stevie. It's you tryin' to heal. For all that time, you didn't think about the abuse, so the way you look at it didn't get a chance to change. And when you did start dealin' with it, you still saw what happened from a kid's point of view."

"But now I see it the way an adult would too. I've grown up, and so has my perspective."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm sayin'. The dream brought that memory back again, but it ain't the same as before. I think Dr. Morgan would say you have a lot of insight."

Steve appreciated the positive spin Soda was able to put on what had been such a heavy disclosure, admiring how his best friend had stayed strong despite its darkness. "You've been just how I needed you to be, man. Really calm and steady."

"Well, of course I have. You know I'm damn good at that when it's for you. I can always be or do whatever the moment calls for."

"Yeah, I know you can. But that doesn't mean I stop loving you for it." Steve realized how drained he felt, his mind and body spent as he remembered the words he'd spoken and how Soda had listened without judgment. "'Cause I do, brother. More than words could ever let me say. And it's so important for somebody to hear me and to listen because I owe the little boy I used to be the voice and the words he didn't have back then. I owe him any chance I get to tell our story."