"Hey, man, how was your appointment? You look kind of spent there."

Soda had been home for about an hour when Steve came over to find him playing a game of solitaire on his bedroom floor, the game a blur of red and black that was nothing more than a mild distraction. "Oh, it was, um, a lot. You'd probably call it productive."

Steve couldn't help but be intrigued by that response, even though he'd never push Soda to go into further detail if he wasn't comfortable doing so. Given this, Steve took a spot across from his best friend, watching the card game continue with an ace of hearts. "Well, looks like you're about to win that round. Deal me in for a hand of rummy after you do."

Soda looked down at the last few cards in his hand, seeing that Steve was right as he put each one where it belonged. "You're not going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"Anything else about my session. I thought you would have more to say when I said it was productive."

"Oh. You can tell me more if you want to, buddy. You know that. I'm just leaving the choice up to you. I'm glad it was productive though, since it must mean you got what you needed."

"Yeah. I guess I did." Soda collected the cards and began to shuffle them, his mind going back over the counseling session as he imagined telling Steve why he described it the way that he had. "I got somethin' anyway. I just ain't quite sure what it is."

"That's okay. I think sometimes the whole purpose of going to counseling is just to be heard, and I know Dr. Morgan is pretty great at listening to you and drawing out whatever's there at any given time."

"She is good at that. She knows when I need to keep going." Soda dealt the cards out so that they each had a hand of seven. "She can tell when I should go deeper into a subject instead of just actin' like there's nothin' else. Sometimes I think she sees things even better than I do. She sure did today."

Steve started the game by drawing a card then putting down a three, four, and five of spades. He was almost expecting Soda to keep talking because his friend seemed to be on the verge of telling him what he had discussed with Dr. Morgan, but the middle Curtis fell silent. "It's easier for counselors to see things 'cause they're more on the outside. That's something Laura has told me before. You're inside your own head so-"

"I needed to tell her, Stevie. I didn't tell anybody else, I swear. It's crazy, ain't it? I should be focused on how Penny's leavin' tomorrow and how Emily's growin' more every day. Or even on how my baby brother starts his senior year next week. But I'm not. I'm thinkin' about you and what happened a long time ago."

"Oh. Um, I'm sorry, Soda. Even though I'm not totally sure what you mean. What did you tell Dr. Morgan? Something you think you weren't supposed to?"

Soda put his cards facedown on the floor as he struggled with the fact that his words had held a note of accusation, something he hadn't meant to do. "Sort of. But I know you'd be okay with it 'cause you don't expect me to keep stuff from my therapist, not even if it's about you. I told her how we talked about you seeing what happened as a rape attempt. I wanted her to know 'cause I had a hard time after. But that's not your fault, and I wasn't tryin' to sound like it is."

"Aw, buddy. I'm so damn glad you have Dr. Morgan." Steve gripped Soda's shoulder, knowing how tough it had to be for his friend to be the one who listened to such heavy realizations. He had definitely felt guilty before because Soda always stepped in to carry the burdens and pain with him, the other man's empathy and love never allowing for another choice. Yet, Steve also had to remind himself that their brotherhood was a two-way street. He'd done the same for Soda countless times as well, his own drive to be there for his friend just as strong. "I hope it helped you to talk to her, and I hope you know I'm not taking it as my fault that you had a hard time. Being there is what we do for each other, and I'm trying to work on not blaming myself for things 'cause I don't want you to either. I've gotten better at it too."

Soda knew Steve had improved as far as not automatically holding himself responsible for everything he deemed painful or out of his control, but still, certain comments he made hadn't escaped his notice. "You have, but I guess my first instinct is still to protect you from anything I think could make you feel bad. I mean, maybe it was just those moments, but you've said things lately that sounded like you felt guilty. So I didn't want you to get wrapped up in that if I could help it. You said you were sorry for putting me through more, but I don't see it like that, Stevie. Not one bit."

"I know you don't. Because I don't either when it's the other way around. We both struggle, and we both have days where our empathy turns into a kind of weakness. It's a beautiful thing to have, but it doesn't always feel like it. Not when it's so strong that my pain becomes yours or yours becomes mine. I'm wondering what you meant when you said you had a hard time after we talked. You don't have to tell me, but you can if you want. I can hear you out on that too."

Soda had certainly confided in Steve on more than one occasion when the truths of his friend's history became too much to take, but something felt different about now. "I, um, I do kind of want to. I guess that's why I told you in the first place."

Steve watched Soda hesitate, quick to let him know that either decision was okay. "You can. That's all I'm saying, man. If you're uncomfortable about it, that's no big deal. The choice is totally and completely yours."

Soda's breath caught a little as he picked his cards back up. "Can we just play now?"

"Of course." Steve sensed some disappointment within himself, as he'd truly wanted Soda to tell him more, but he knew he had to accept his choice. "But, if you ever change your mind-"

"I know, Stevie." Soda punctuated his words with a grin. "How could I not? You always remind me. I'll tell you soon, I promise. I ain't uncomfortable about it. I just don't feel like talkin' anymore. And don't worry either 'cause nothin' bad happened with me. I'm right as rain."

Steve was a bit more satisfied, knowing that Soda would be willing to return to the subject later, so for now, he let it go. "You're fit as a fiddle, huh?"

"Yep." Soda started his turn, playing an eight, nine, and ten of hearts. "I'm that too, and I'm even good as gold."

"Hey, Kid. I've got a question that might throw you for a loop."

Pony hadn't anticipated Steve's sudden presence in his bedroom, of all places, sure that his brother's best friend hadn't set foot in it more than twice since he and Soda had stopped sharing. "Okay. Try me then."

Steve was reminded of the time he and Pony had talked in his own bedroom, the concept one that seemed so intimate compared to the animosity that had once defined their relationship. "Do you ever think about Bob Sheldon?"

"Huh? Why would you be asking me about him? What's he have to do with anything? He's dead."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"But nothing, Steve. I don't want to talk about the Soc who tried to murder me and Johnny. Go away."

Steve realized he better get to the point, as he was empathetic enough to recognize Pony's apparent anger was merely the result of pain and grief. He deliberately softened his voice, his hand squeezing the youngest Curtis' shoulder. "Pony, I need your help. You're the only one I can ask about this."

"You have Soda. How could you need me for anything?"

Steve perched on the edge of Pony's bed, the younger teen facing him from his desk chair with the sort of puzzled expression that would've been funny under different circumstances. "Ironically enough, I need somebody who's not as close to me. Somebody who doesn't remember certain things about my life too. I need the disconnect, so to speak."

"Are you off your rocker or something right now?"

"Maybe I am, Kid. I know I'm not making much sense yet, am I?"

"Much sense? You aren't making any sense. What could Bob Sheldon have to do with your life?"

Steve could see that Pony had become a bit more receptive since he'd first brought up what had to be such a sensitive topic, but he knew his time may very well be limited. "You and I have something in common. Someone hurt both of us in a way that no other person can truly grasp. Then they died without us ever getting an apology or an acknowledgment. We were left with the memories and not much else to reconcile them."

Pony finally made the connection, Steve's words no longer seeming like senseless rambling. "So we were. But how can I help you? Bob and his friend tried to drown me, and you were sexually abused. I see what you mean in the most general way of talking about it, but the specifics sure aren't alike at all. We didn't go through the same thing, and I'm sure we don't have the same kinds of feelings either."

"We probably don't. But, Pony, I'm struggling with how I feel about Clara now. I get angry and bitter, and at the same time, I feel sorry for the type of person she was. I hate her sometimes, and then I don't. Soda's been the best about all of this, but he's too close. So is my dad. They have their own feelings about her and about me being abused."

"And you think I don't? Steve, I'm not as cold as you think I am. I feel bad over what happened too."

"I know you do. But we aren't so close that it affects you like it has them, and you don't remember that time. You can't draw the same conclusions or connections to your own memories. It's more abstract to you. So I was wondering how you see Bob Sheldon. If you don't want to tell me, you can say shut the hell up, and I'll leave, but-"

"I've hated him sometimes too. If he hadn't jumped us, Johnny wouldn't have had to stab him to save my life. But I also feel sorry for him. Being a Soc and having money didn't stop him from being a drunk, and a guy has to be pretty damn miserable to jump on kids smaller than he is. But he was really just a kid himself, and I wonder what he would've been like if he had the chance to actually grow up. I wonder if he could've become a better person."

"Not to be cynical, but I doubt it. It's not a good path when he was hurting younger kids for kicks or because you talked to their girls. That's not about anything besides power, and I'd be willing to he wanted to feel powerful and in control, especially since the other guys did what he said. That's some scary manipulation right there."

"It is. I can't say I got anything from Bob obviously, but Randy and I were kind of okay before he graduated the next year. We talked a little bit here and there. Plus, you know about him and David testifying in court. That's an acknowledgment. I know Randy was sorry too, and he told me some about Bob's parents. They let him do anything he wanted and get away with it. He didn't have any limits, so I think everything he did was to try to get a reaction from them."

"And, in the end, he just wound up dead 'cause Johnny couldn't let them drown you or beat him up again." Steve suddenly felt self-conscious, seeing that the parallels he'd drawn between himself and Pony weren't quite accurate. "I'm sorry, Kid. I got this all wrong. We have nothing in common except being victims of people who only cared about themselves."

"No. You didn't get it wrong, Steve. Yeah, I got a bit more closure than you did and some explanation, but we both do have pain no one else understands. The kind that doesn't show physically. There are no scars for me either, just the memory of how it felt to be held under that water. I do see why you'd struggle with how to feel toward Clara, but I'm still not really sure how us being able to relate can help you."

"I guess it can't help. I was just thinking that since we aren't very close, you'd be able to tell me if it makes sense that I want to forgive her for what she did, for the horrible person she was. Because I can't keep fighting with this and remembering how bad I felt every time she came into my bed then hating her for leaving me with that kind of hurt. Thinking about her and what she was makes the pain worse, and I want to let go of that part of it. Bitterness and anger get me nowhere."

Pony couldn't help but note the irony in Steve saying they weren't very close at the same time he proceeded to pour his heart out. But the younger teen did understand how his own perspective carried a certain objectivity and distance, making his emotions not run nearly as high as those of Soda or Nicholas. "It makes sense for you to do whatever you need to do. It wasn't a conscious choice, but I think I forgave Bob and all those guys. Heck, I forgave Dal too."

"So you don't think I'm crazy for talking like this?"

"No. I think you were a little bit awkward when you barged into my room and started talking about Bob Sheldon, but crazy? Nah. No more than we all are by now anyway."

"Yeah, life has a way of knocking our screws loose. And I did not barge in. The door was open."

Pony grinned, glad to see the indignation in Steve after such an emotion-filled moment. "I know. I just wanted to take a dig at you. Friends now or not, it's still what we do best."

"You've got a point there, Kid." Steve stood up, putting his arm around Pony's shoulders in a half-hug. "You did help me out though, just so you know. I've been questioning myself too much, even when I have the answers. Almost like I don't trust my own choices. But if even you don't think I'm nuts, I probably should just follow my gut."

"You're doin' the right thing, sweetheart, and I'm so proud of you."

Penny felt Soda's hand on her face as they stood beside the car she'd packed with all that she would need to set up her college dorm room. "I know, and thank you. I'll miss you."

Soda pressed his lips to Penny's, letting the kiss linger for as long as time would allow. "I'll miss you too. Call me later tonight, all right? I want to know you got there safe, so I'll make sure I'm home to take it."

"I will." Penny smiled as she smoothed the collar of Soda's DX shirt. "Take care of yourself, Sodapop. I'll be home to visit before you know it.".

Steve had been watching Soda since he punched back in after his lunch break. He knew his friend had spent the hour with Penny, seeing her off on her drive to the University of Oklahoma. "How are you, man? You think you'll be okay?"

Soda was aware that Steve had hardly looked away from him since he'd returned to the DX, but he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed by the attention. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It just feels weird right now. I've gotten used to havin' everybody I love in one place, and now they aren't anymore."

"I bet that'll get better after a little bit of time. It's a hell of an adjustment though."

"Sure is. I kept standin' there when she was drivin' away, and I swear she took a piece of my heart with her."

"I'm not even sure where else to go with any of this or what to talk about next. This past week, I've been through everything, and it's not like I've kept it to myself. I've been really open and honest."

Laura realized that both openness and honesty had become Steve's trademarks, not doubting that he put in the time and effort to get the support he needed. "So maybe there isn't anything to talk about now. Perhaps you've reached a point where it's okay to stop for a while. Maybe even beneficial."

Steve had grown so used to talking through and about his traumas that the idea of stopping was unfamiliar to him, the concept almost foreign. "But how could that be beneficial? I don't see how not talking about anything could help me."

"Think of it like a break. And I didn't say don't talk about anything at all. Just not the traumas. Consider everything you've told me during this session, Steve. You described your reflections about the weeks leading up to your suicide attempt. You told me about your most recent nightmare and about the memory at the root of it. You've even uncovered deeper information about those times that you used to be unable to comprehend."

"Uncovered, huh? You make me sound like a detective or something."

"There is an investigative nature to going back through your experiences. You find out things you didn't know. You answer the questions you have. My point is, though, you've covered a lot of ground, even including a spiritual struggle as well. So it's fine if you're ready to move on from those particular topics. Tell me how things are going with your job and with saving for college. Tell me about this past holiday weekend. Did you do anything fun?"

"Yeah. We had a little cookout at the Curtises. Just Soda and his brothers and TwoBit. My job is okay. I still like it as much as I always have, even if I am sure it's not what I want to do forever. My dad and I both stash a little money away when we get paid. The savings account is already growing, so it'll help a lot whenever I decide to go to school. Did I tell you that Soda and I made a deal about him also getting his GED?"

"I don't believe you did." Laura noted the excitement in Steve's voice, the sound a welcome change after the distress she'd witnessed so many times in the young man. "What deal did you make?"

"We decided together that when I start classes in college, Soda will go for his GED too. He has more faith in me than he has in himself, but I believe in him enough for both of us. He sees me as having this calling, but I think he also has one."

"What do you think Sodapop's calling is?"

"I'm not sure, honestly. Maybe something to do with cars. I can see him having his own shop that he manages and works as a mechanic too. He'd never be one to only be stuck with a desk and paperwork. I guess I'll have plenty of that though, since I want to be a counselor."

"True. Counseling is more of a mental labor than a physical one."

"And being a mechanic is some of both. You really have to use your brain in order to know what to do with your hands. And Soda's smart, even though he doesn't always think so. It's funny. Maybe opposites really do attract."

"How so?"

"I've always been pretty damn confident in myself. Even cocky, according to some people. The only time I haven't been is when I was dealing with too much shame and doubt 'cause of where I was mentally. I was good at school even then though. But I think Soda's self-esteem was always prone to taking hits, and school was just the first source of that."

"Perhaps the two of you have balanced each other out over the years, and Sodapop's empathy was able to shine the way it did when you were struggling because he knew what feeling bad about yourself is like. On some level, he could relate to you, even though the reason for his pain was so different from yours."

Steve thought back to the moments he'd spent with Soda as he figured out how to navigate the territory of recovery, his friend always more than willing to lend his love and support. "I like that. I mean, about his empathy shining. It really did. It still does. I guess I've never given it much thought before, but it's no wonder that Soda was so vulnerable to the kind of depression that he fell into. It would probably be a type of mystery if he hadn't."

"And what kind of depression do you think Sodapop experienced? Was it different from yours?"

"Yeah, and I'm not even sure I was depressed. It was sort of hard to tell with all the trauma stress. But I guess that had to have triggered a depression for me to try to kill myself. But I'm thinking of how deep it was for Soda when he felt so worthless and like he should be dead. He literally told me once that he was nothing. When I overdosed, it was about trying to escape. I felt like I could only stop hurting if I just died. But I think Soda felt so bad about himself that he thought he wasn't worthy of life or the love that ended up ultimately keeping him here with us. He actually felt like he deserved to die and that we didn't need him anymore." Steve felt a chill go down his spine just from the knowledge of how profoundly his best friend's depression had affected his self-perception, the contrast he could see between the two of them seeming especially sharp as he looked back on it. "I'm not even sure why I'm talking about this though. I wasn't trying to go here again when you've heard about it so much already."

"I think it's part of that natural loop we discussed last week. You just came at the subject from a different angle. You're still reflecting on your attempt, and our conversation flowed to a place where you could analyze your experience in relation to Sodapop's. I know that sometimes we choose to talk about particular topics, but counseling can also involve just seeing where the session happens to lead."

"Yeah, I know. It can be full of surprises. Like the topic chooses me instead of the other way around." Steve couldn't stop his thoughts from going to how heavy Soda's spirit had seemed that afternoon, also remembering what his friend had told him soon after his appointment with Dr. Morgan. "And I know Soda and I tell each other just about everything, but I'm wondering if, this time, that might have been a mistake."

"Oh, hell, Stevie's bringin' me hot chocolate. One of our famous heart-to-hearts must be tryin' to happen."

Steve handed one of the mugs he had brought outside to Soda as he settled on the back porch steps beside his friend. "Famous, huh? Well, I guess they ought to be 'cause I bet two guys have never done what we do, especially not on such a regular basis. But, yeah, a talk is imminent."

Soda sipped the hot chocolate, believing he already knew the subject Steve was planning to bring up. "I really am all right about Penny. You don't have to treat me like a fragile guy who's about to break. I can handle a little bit of change."

"I know you can. But that's not even what I want to talk to you about. It's sort of connected because of the timing, but I'd still be concerned even without that part."

"Concerned? Why?"

Steve had spent the time after his session with Laura thinking about just that, his heart pondering everything he'd said to his counselor about Soda's past depression and combining it with the present. "Because of the position I put you in, man. I'm not saying it's my fault, but I am saying I should've thought more carefully before I added anything else to the mix."

"I'm confused. What position? And what mix are we talkin' about here?"

Steve supposed he'd had a bit of an epiphany with his latest process of thought, stumbling for the words as he attempted to explain it to Soda. "All the parts are there. The ones that made you spiral. It's like this list of ingredients, and they all come together to make you feel everything you did after the shooting. I think some of it is always there 'cause it's in your head but-"

"Woah. But I don't feel like I did then, and I ain't in a spiral. Are you sayin' you think you did somethin' to put me back in that position? If you're worried, just tell me. Please, Stevie. 'Cause I'm not sure what parts or ingredients you mean."

As Steve's gaze met Soda's, he saw in his best friend the unfortunate propensity to relapse into depression, finding he couldn't get past the assumption that it would happen. "Soda, there were several things that caused you to be depressed last year, and I can see every one of them in front of us right now. Laura and I were talking about what I'd like to do in the future. About me going to college and you getting your GED. That got us into how we're different when it comes to school."

"You're good at it, and I just ain't. But what's that got to do with my depression?"

"More than what's on the surface. I think you were prone to feeling everything you did with that because of where your self-esteem had already been. You struggled with it way before the shooting happened, so I can see how you felt so down on yourself and why it got as bad as it did."

Soda followed along with Steve's train of thought, understanding how the subject had come about, even though he still wasn't sure why his friend's conclusion appeared to be resulting in anxiety over his current state. "All right. But what's in front of us right now? What's mixed together to make you feel like you need to intervene or apologize?"

Steve felt his thoughts swirl and twist around one another, the hand that wasn't holding his mug of hot chocolate moving to grasp Soda's shoulder. "Man, I don't feel so great. Too much. Making me dizzy."

Soda could relate to what Steve was describing, as he'd experienced the same when he had too many thoughts competing for his attention. "Okay. I'll stop askin' questions then, buddy. Just keep going whenever you're ready."

Steve nodded slowly as he steadied himself with deep breaths, appreciating the hand Soda had on top of his own. "The shooting. My suicide attempt. You finding out about the abuse. Johnny and Dal. Your parents. Everything's here."

Soda put his mug of hot chocolate to the side, doing the same with Steve's as well, before he gently took hold of the other man's arms. "But I'm okay, I swear. You don't gotta worry. I know it ain't that easy to stop, but I still am. Please trust me on that, even when your thoughts try to tell you somethin' else."

Steve focused on the earnest eyes that stared back at him, reminded of a time several months ago when he'd voiced a similar plea. "I do trust you. The feelings are just- they're inside, and they slammed right into my heart. I was filling Laura in on everything, and once I was done, I thought that was it, you know? I thought talking about my job and plans would get me away from the trauma too. But I went into it again because it's like this puzzle, and I'm scared that I put the last piece into place when I told you about how I think Clara was trying to rape me."

"So that's what you meant about the position you put me in. Steve, you ain't responsible for makin' sure I don't get triggered by somethin'. You just can't be." When Steve didn't respond and was, in fact, not even looking at him anymore, Soda shook his friend just a little bit. "Do you hear me? You didn't do anything bad or wrong or whatever you think it was. To be real honest, I think this is more about how you felt as a kid than it is about me."

"What's that mean? You think I'm not really worried about you falling into another depression? Are you calling me selfish?"

"What? Hell, no. That ain't even close." Soda carded a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Stevie, you came out here with me like you're anxious about things that are happening, and I get that. I really do. But what I'm tryin' to say is I know you. So I know how your old feelings make you see stuff sometimes. On top of that, I know I've been the one it gets centered around since the night I got shot."

"What's your point, Soda? You think this is just me being delusional? 'Cause it's not, man. I'm not. I'm scared because everything that's ever hurt you has made an appearance lately. It scares me to death, Soda. Don't you see that?"

"Of course I do. But I don't think it's a coincidence that you're zeroin' in on what you told me as if it's some kind of seal. I'm wonderin' if rememberin' how you couldn't control what happened to you then makes you want to try to control somethin' else now. Like maybe that memory-"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up. Please!"

Soda saw that tears were now falling out of Steve's eyes, and he doubted the approach he'd chosen to take, even though his friend's reaction was proof he was on the right track. "Okay. I'll leave it alone, buddy. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd never mean to make you cry."

Steve loathed the way his chest heaved with the urge to sob, and he cursed the moisture on his cheeks, realizing that he'd only succeeded in confirming Soda's suspicions. "But you're right. At least I guess you are, or I wouldn't have gotten mad. I wouldn't be cussing or accusing you of saying things you didn't if you hadn't hit a nerve."

"I was just thinkin' the same thing." Soda handed Steve's hot chocolate back to him, an arm then going around his friend's shoulders. "But, if that's too much, we can go back to talking about me. I don't want you to be pissed off or sad."

"But I am anyway." Steve concentrated on both the mug in his hand and the feel of Soda's touch anchoring him to the present. "About you and about myself. But I didn't even realize it. It feels so logical for me to be worried about you that I couldn't see there's more to it than that. I don't want there to be though. I don't want this to be about a memory I wish I didn't have."

"I know you don't. But, if it is, the only way to deal is to go through it." As Soda watched Steve's body heave with barely suppressed cries, he decided to take a slightly different path in bringing him back to a place of peace. "Stevie, when I said I had a hard time after we talked about that, I meant I sat in my room and cried."

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, you're really missing the mark, man."

"Well, it ain't that part I'm tryin' to use to help you. Not exactly anyway. I just want you to understand that we're both kind of in the same boat when it comes to each other. I cried 'cause I was thinkin' about you bein' in pain and rememberin' how it made you suicidal. I cried 'cause it makes me sad to know-"

"You think I don't already know that? Of course it made you sad to hear me talk about that shit." Steve got up off the porch steps, unsurprised when Soda followed him, even if he did kind of wish he wouldn't. "You know what? I don't want to do this anymore. My plan backfired, and I think I should just go home."

"But I thought you wanted to know how it was hard for me and why I talked to Dr. Morgan about it."

"I did. I do. But, Soda, it's too raw right now, okay? 'Cause it's making my head spin, and I can't think straight anymore. I am worried about you, but you're right here in front of me saying you're fine. That you're not falling into a depression despite what I feel like I must be looking at. So that has to mean it is about me. It is about this one fucked up memory that I can't outrun. I came out here because I wanted to remind you I'm here for you, and I wanted to comfort you if it's what you needed. But you don't. You're okay, and I'm not. I've got it all backwards."

"No, you don't, buddy. It ain't ever a bad thing for me to hear that from you either. Just 'cause it's a little more complicated than you realized doesn't mean you went about things the wrong way."

Steve tried to listen to Soda, tried to let his best friend talk him down from this proverbial cliff that had him at its edge, but the feeling of wrongdoing which had been catapulted from the past into the present won out in the end. "Of course it does! Don't you get it? You should 'cause you managed to know more about me than I did myself. You knew that my head is messed up enough for me to decide you need my help when you so obviously don't. You knew-"

Soda heard Steve's voice crack as his friend suddenly stopped, the weight of what he was carrying around inside catching up to him. "Steve, it's okay. It's okay that you're still tryin' to grapple with what you can see now. I don't fault you for it, buddy, and I don't fault you for lookin' at all that's in front of us lately and wantin' to take care of me."

Steve focused on the softness that laced Soda's voice, seeing that same quality in his friend's expression, in his eyes as they refused to look away from what felt to him like an incarnation of shame. "But I'm the one who needs that, right? I'm the one who needs somebody to take care of me?"

"Yeah, I think so." Soda remembered what he'd said to Dr. Morgan about the memories his mind had created, the image of a young, fearful, and pleading Steve becoming even more vivid as he watched his best friend's current struggle with the crushing reality of what had occurred years ago. "You were just a kid, Stevie. A little boy. I'm not real sure if this is what you need to hear, but you were always innocent. She was bad, not you. Never you."

"I know that." Steve did too, at least on a logical level. The fact had been drilled into him by his loved ones and his counselor, but sometimes the emotional side still faltered, leaving him prone to the wiles of a sense of remorse he hadn't earned. "But I guess that's what this has been about. I felt sad and helpless and guilty, and I couldn't do anything about it. So I want to do what I can now when something feels out of my control. Even going far enough to decide I did at least one thing to create the problem."

Soda could see that some of the tension had left Steve's body, the conflict inside him no longer manifesting as anger. So, hesitantly, the middle Curtis touched his shoulder as he circled back to where the conversation had begun. "You didn't put me in any kind of position. You just shared what you needed to, like we always do. And I'm glad you did."

Steve thought he could cry all over again as he realized that his head had stopped spinning, the self depracating thoughts losing the majority of their power. He didn't know whether it was a result of Soda being there to catch him or just time doing its usual work of softening the blow. "Soda, what do I do now? I mean, I guess I can't really do anything. You're good, so there's nothing for me to do except stop letting my old feelings dictate what's happening."

"Which ain't quite as easy as it sounds like it ought to be." Soda sat back down on the porch step, patting the space beside him. "But I think I've got an idea."

Steve rejoined Soda, though he didn't hide his skepticism. "What kind of idea, man? You can't fix this, no matter what you say or do."

"Maybe not. But there is somethin' you can do. I don't need you to keep me out of a depression, but I do need some love from my best friend."

"You do? But why?"

Soda was quiet for a beat as he touched the back of Steve's head, remembering the times lately when his best friend had fought with self-consciousness, fear, and the shame that both men knew was the underlying driver of every tough feeling, including anger. "'Cause it helps me remember that you're still here, Stevie. That you ain't givin' up. If you're right beside me and we're talkin' about stuff, I can't be scared of where your head could take you. I can't be scared I'll almost lose you again. So we can help each other just by bein' together. Like David and Johnathan, remember? We've got the same soul."

Steve's breaths came fast, his body drawing close to a panicked state at the same time his hand closed so tightly around Soda's that he was sure the grip had to be painful. "Yeah, I remember."

Soda made sure he had eye contact with Steve before he spoke again, their intertwined hands not releasing one another. "So that means I've got you, Stevie. You've got me too. I know how bad it hurts when you go back through your memories 'cause all I have to do is think about how I feel inside and multiply it by a thousand. Yesterday, I told Dr. Morgan that nothin' hurts me like knowin' you were abused the way you were, and I meant it. But you know what, buddy?"

Steve's grip in Soda's hand loosened only a little bit as he felt himself relax into the atmosphere of grace and redemption that his best friend was building for him despite how harsh he'd been earlier. "What?"

"There also ain't anything in the world like bein' the person you trust with those memories. It's a real honor to me, especially when you care about how I'm doin' in the midst of it too. That's a big deal."

"But of course I care. I've always cared about you."

"I know." Soda offered Steve a lopsided grin, satisfied when he got a small one in return. "But it means even more when you've got other stuff going on with you. So that's what I'm seein' right now. Yeah, I think your memories are makin' things harder. I think they're causin' you to feel shame you don't deserve and to feel helpless again. Or like there's just somethin' else you need to reach out to do or fix."

"Laura would say it's not so different from a flashback because emotions are part of the memories too. I should've realized what was happening sooner. That type of thing is always so intense for me and so much stronger because it's not just about the present."

"Right, but it's also just 'cause you love me. The thought that I could get depressed again wouldn't even cross your mind to begin with if you didn't." Soda felt Steve's arm wrap around him and leaned into the partial embrace as he voiced the rest of what he'd wanted to moments earlier, confident that his friend wouldn't lash out again. "You've known for a while now that I have pictures in my head of you bein' abused, images of things I never even saw for myself. I guess 'cause I didn't have to for it to matter a lot."

Steve was aware of hardly anything else as he listened to Soda talk, the best comfort and reassurance he'd ever find in the voice of his friend and brother, who was easily the most consistent person to ever be part of his world. "Yeah, I remember you telling me about those."

"They're a little worse now 'cause of hearin' what you told me. It made my stomach hurt. Then I was thinkin' about how much of a hard time you had, especially because of bein' ashamed over how Clara treated you. And I can't go back to that without also rememberin' how things were for me when we were kids. Not that I realized it then but still."

"So I kind of made a flood here, didn't I? My one memory got all of yours going again."

"But they don't ever go away, Stevie. And that ain't your fault either. It's just somethin' that is. It's almost like I get this one huge flashback that's nothin' but feelings too. Well, feelings and pieces of memories." Soda paused, his eyes turning to Steve as he thought about the potential danger of going any further. "It's funny 'cause I shouldn't be tellin' you stuff like this really. Hell, you're the one who lived it. You lived the abuse, but I'm talkin' to you like the story's mine instead of yours."

"I think the word you're looking for is ironic. But we've known for a long time how all of this goes for us. Maybe other people couldn't tell each other things the way we do, but I want to know how you're affected, man. 'Cause, to me, that's part of the story. The healing you do happens right alongside mine."

Soda knew this, even if he did need the reminder from time to time. So, as he stayed pressed into Steve's side, he trusted in what they had created, the path the two friends had worked out for themselves one that would never fail.