Chapter 31: Goodbye l

-- MONDAY, MAY 8, 2006, SENIOR YEAR --

There came a knock at the door, and moments later it opened without waiting for a response. The privacy curtain just a few feet inside the doorway was already open, and my nurse for this shift smiled at me as she walked inside with my parents in tow.

"Heya, Ben," Dad greeted me with a smile, although there were obvious tension lines at his eyes. He came to a stop at the foot of my bed and turned to smile and nod at my nurse as she left us alone, pulling the privacy curtain shut before going out the door and closing it behind her.

"Hey, Dad," I replied wearily.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asked, obvious concern on her face as she sat on a round stool and rolled it up beside my bed.

"I'm fine. Much better than yesterday," I reassured her. Almost anything would have been better than yesterday. I'd slept through most of it, but my brief time awake had been spent in significant pain and only a little bit of lucidity. Really, I figured the doctors only let me wake up to make sure that I could, and also to reassure both my parents and me that I was alive and in stable condition. We only spoke for a few minutes to confirm the current date and my whereabouts, but beyond that I was only too happy to let the nurses shoot me up full of drugs so I could pass out again.

"Still in pain?" Mom continued, her concern deepening despite my reassurances. She reached out and put her hand on my forearm.

"Only a little," I lied, caring more about her peace of mind than my own discomfort, and I reached over and patted the back of her hand for emphasis. Glancing around them, I asked, "Where's everyone else?"

"Outside," Dad explained. "Only parents are allowed in this unit; not even your sisters can get in here. Hospital policy. But the doctor said that if you pass all their tests, you'll be moved to a regular room this afternoon where you can take visitors."

I blinked and thought about that. "Oh. Okay."

"I know that's disappointing," Mom said gently. "But you'll have to put up with just us for now. Believe me, I think the girls are more upset about it than you are, especially Adrienne and Dawn."

I blinked and raised my eyebrows. "Dawn? She's here?"

My parents exchanged a little look, and Dad explained, "She drove down in the early morning on Sunday. Beat us here, actually."

I nodded. "I'm guessing somebody called her right away."

Mom gave Dad a strange smile. "Actually, no ... Funny thing is, she called her mom. Said she'd woken up screaming your name in the middle of the night. Deanna spent about fifteen minutes calming her down and reassuring her that it was nothing more than a nightmare. Ten minutes AFTER that, DJ called Deanna to tell her you'd been shot while Brooke called me. And then Deanna called Dawn right back, probably freaking out more than Dawn was."

Dad chuckled. "Poor woman. I don't think she knew whether to be worried about your condition or thrilled by the idea of Dawn apparently feeling something happen to you. Probably both."

Mom shook her head. "It's preposterous, of course, the idea that Dawn could feel you get hurt. But ... well ... The point is that Dawn's here, outside in the waiting area with your sisters and hers."

Dad smirked. "And with no less than six other young women who have all chosen to spend their time on the last Monday of classes at a hospital awaiting some word regarding your current health status."

I blushed and averted my eyes, not wanting to attempt explaining what I'd been up to these last few months even while mentally guessing which six were here. Amber, Sasha, and Andie seemed obvious, and maybe Paige. Lynne was also a distinct possibility, and I could hope that Kim would come out of the house for something like this. Of course, some of them would have classes today, so it was really up in the air.

"So, ah," I began, taking a deep breath. "What IS my current health status?"

"Well you'll live, despite your seemingly sincere attempt to alter that fact," Mom replied with a bit of reproach in her tone.

I winced at her obvious disapproval and began, "I never intended--"

"Hey, we're not getting into that right now," Dad interrupted. "Right now we're just happy that you're safe."

"But I'm guessing the girls told you everything?"

Mom and Dad exchanged another look, and Dad explained, "Everything they know about. But nobody knows what really happened in that bedroom. All we have is the girls' account of what they discovered when they ran in and found you bleeding to death."

I pursed my lips and grimaced at the thought of the girls, especially my little sister, having to witness that kind of horror. I went back over everything that had transpired in that bedroom, from busting in to find Carter slapping Elyse, to slamming that letter opener into his chest with my last burst of energy before passing out. Of course, I remembered everything in-between, including the feeling of getting shot, and I raised my hand to the upper-right side of my head to feel the wound.

Of course, I couldn't feel the wound itself. Bandages and gauze wraps blocked my fingers from actually touching it, and with raised eyebrows I looked at my parents. "How bad is it? I don't, like, have bullet fragments in my skull or anything, do I?"

Dad winced. "No, no. Nothing like that. The bullet did manage to carve out a chunk of your head, right down until your skull was exposed, but since your skull is right under the surface, the shock to your brain was more like getting hit in the head with a hammer. The biggest problem was that you had a cerebral contusion that caused some intracranial bleeding. It was severe enough to require surgical drainage, and that's why they kept you doped up. They wanted to allow your body to heal without you having to deal with the pain. Now that's apparently taken care of, and they've stitched up your gunshot wound, so with time and rest you should be good as new."

"But an inch to the right and we probably wouldn't be talking to you right now," Mom said with a frown, her eyes hard as she pointed more or less at the middle of my forehead. She began stroking my forearm, her lower lip quivered, and she had to fight back tears as she added in a shaky voice, "We'd have been burying you instead."

"Hey, hey..." I began, furrowing my eyebrows and rubbing her hand still on my forearm. "I'm fine. I got lucky."

"Got lucky again. This is the second time you've been shot, young man. And I don't ever want to think about you having a third."

I winced. "I'm sorry. I really never thought--"

"You never thought. That's the problem!" Mom cut me off.

"Beth..." Dad soothed, rubbing Mom's shoulder. "We talked about this. Now's not the time. We only have a little while that we can talk to him before our time's up."

Mom squeezed her eyes shut and took two deep, shuddering breaths. But when she exhaled the last she looked visibly calmer, and she went back to stroking my forearm.

"Believe me. Getting shot again is the LAST thing I ever want to happen, and I'll be more careful in the future," I assured her, but her frown said she didn't quite trust me on that. "Look, I was stupid, I know. I'm very sorry for making you worry."

Mom took another deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "This isn't about me. Really, I'm very happy that you're alright. Still, the sooner you're up and about again the more happy I'll be."

I nodded. "Me, too."

With the time we had left, my parents caught me up on the overall situation and their version of the events over the last two days. They'd been awakened by Brooke's frantic phone call around 12:10 in the middle of the night, collected the twins, and drove straight to the hospital. The Evanses were already in the waiting room with my sisters, along with Amber, Sasha, Andie, and a few of the froshlings. My parents, being the only ones allowed into the unit, had stepped in to briefly confirm that I was asleep and recovering well after undergoing surgery and receiving a blood transfusion to replace what I'd lost. Although I had bled out pretty good, Amber's on-the-spot paramedic care had gotten me stabilized well before the ambulance showed up. And so long as I didn't have any adverse reactions to the blood transfusion, or lasting complications from the concussion, the doctors expected me to make a full recovery.

Armed with this information and their visual verification that I was indeed alive, my parents broke up the group in the waiting room and started sending people home to get some sleep. I wasn't allowed visitors yet, anyway. Even Dawn and Adrienne were ultimately browbeaten into leaving the hospital and getting some rest, despite their insistent protests, especially when my parents left the hospital as well. Mom, Dad, and the twins took over the two downstairs bedrooms in my Berkeley house, with my parents in the bigger of the two rooms. But they were really just convenient beds, since the Evanses also used the house as a crash pad rather than commute all the way back to the South Bay. One set of parents had stayed in the hospital at all times.

No one stayed away very long, and several Tri-Delts had come to express their condolences to my family and inquire about my health. Bert, Paige, and Lynne also stopped by, along with some other classmates, but Mom and Dad didn't really remember names. The only person of significance who wasn't around was Amber, who had gone home shortly after their arrival. Neither Lynne nor my parents had any further details on her, other than that they were exceedingly grateful for her medical expertise in Carter's bedroom.

Boredom and parental unit instructions kept all of the students in the waiting room at least attempting to study and do homework for their classes, which supposedly became easier to do the longer time passed without any new information. In the afternoon, I woke up and my parents were allowed back in to see me, but it had been a short visit. And last night had been a repeat of the first, with the two sets of parents taking turns going home to sleep before returning and the various girls doing the same.

The more I listened, the more embarrassed I became over my situation. Compared to my ... well, I supposed one had to call it a dream ... of being in a coma for more than a week, I thought getting grazed by a bullet but not really punctured to be rather ... lame. I was fine, and apart from yet another bullet scar, I apparently would be back on my feet in perfect health pretty soon. And to have so many people clogging a hospital waiting room over me seemed like making a far bigger deal out of the situation than it really was.

I told my parents to tell everyone to go home, that I'd be fine, and that I still had my own Finals to worry about. While this setback all but assured I wouldn't be attending the final two days of classes, I could still probably show up for my Exams, which started on Friday. But my parents insisted that my health, not my academic record, was their number one priority, and Brooke had already informed the school that I'd been hospitalized and potentially wouldn't be able to complete my courses, nevermind the possibility that I might not graduate.

I, of course, was horrified by the notion of repeating my final semester of college, but my parents insisted I focus on getting healthy first and ordered me to concentrate on that. Mom had figured out ten minutes ago that I'd been masking my true pain from her, and she threatened to have me drugged and knocked out again if I didn't own up to the fact that I still had a healing wound where I was missing a bunch of skin and tissue on the upper-right side of my head that had once left my bone exposed, and that I needed to REST. So I caved, told them I'd heal up, and they kissed me goodbye. Besides, Finals didn't start until Friday, and I figured I could get out of the hospital by then.

After a short nap, I went through a battery of tests and was pronounced healthy enough to be moved out of my unit. After my head dressings were changed, my bed was wheeled into a different wing of the hospital where I was placed in a shared room with some middle-aged guy recovering from a heart attack. And then I was told that while I'd be able to receive visitors, I should be courteous and respectful of my roommate's needs for privacy and quiet.

Thankfully, my roommate was just as excited as me to see a whole gaggle of gorgeous college coeds stampede into our room. When he recognized Adrienne, I think the poor guy nearly had another heart attack, especially when she tried to smother my face in her tits while hugging me so tight I thought she might never let me go.

Seeing Dawn again turned out to be rather anticlimactic. While my mind was still awash with questions and ruminations about her "hearing" me in the middle of the night on May 6th, our actual reunion was about as opposite as can be from our reunion in my "dream", which I still remembered with vivid clarity. Really, she just sort of shyly waved hello, and fully aware of more than a dozen pairs of eyeballs on us, she gave me a chaste hug before stepping back.

We didn't get a chance to talk.

The room was filled with the conversation of more than a dozen people talking all at the same time for about an hour before the authorities broke things up, and by "the authorities" I don't mean the hospital staff. Berkeley Police had come by to take a statement from me, and my parents shooed everyone out before returning themselves to supervise.

I explained everything as best I could, and I heard Mom and Dad gasp a time or two during my narrative as they heard a few things they'd hadn't learned from one of the others. I didn't really get into the sex stuff or anything; the cops were far more interested in the fight in Carter's bedroom. Still, by the time the cops left I could tell from Mom's and Dad's expressions that I was in pretty deep shit for my reckless behavior.

But the hammer wouldn't fall tonight. It was too soon, or maybe I was too fragile. Whatever the reason, my parents didn't lay into me just yet. After the police were gone, I found out that pretty much all non-"Family" members had been sent home, including Sasha and Andie. It was still a Monday, and some of them had classes. Bert and Sasha, for example, had to give our final Capstone Presentation all by themselves. What had started out as my Dream Team of six at the beginning of Junior year had been whittled down all the way to two, and the drama of my life was mostly responsible for the absent four.

"The Family" stuck around to further discuss things and plan their schedules. In theory I'd be discharged tomorrow, assuming that there were no complications when they checked my head wound in the morning. My parents would actually prefer that I stay in the hospital a little longer for treatment and observation, but my student insurance plan would rather have me out of the hospital to convalesce on my own.

The good news was that the hospital didn't really have specific visiting hours other than that overnight guests were generally frowned upon in a shared room – not that my family would be stopped by "generally frowned upon". Still, we didn't get to leave everyone here, and there was no spare bed in the room or even a couch with enough room to sleep on. Adrienne successfully bullied everyone else into letting her be my overnight guardian while the others went home, and shortly before dinner they all left, including my parents. She kept me and my roommate company, and I swear the guy couldn't be happier to have had a heart attack that landed him in the hospital, although he had to be careful about wandering eyes when his wife came by to visit after work.

At least she didn't give him too much flack for getting Adrienne's autograph.

Eventually, though, my discomfort levels started rising and the nurse came by to give me my next dose of painkillers. I got pretty sleepy after that, and while Adrienne wanted to spoon with me on my little hospital single, the nurses wouldn't let her do that. She settled for sitting in the rather uncomfortable chair next to my bed and pillowing her head on the mattress beside me, and that was the way I discovered her when I woke in the morning.

I didn't mean to wake her, but in that position she wasn't sleeping very deeply, so she awoke when I gently stroked her hair. Giving me a tired smile after apparently not getting much rest overnight, she was nevertheless quite happy to see me alive and (mostly) well.

For me, when I glanced over and realized my roommate was asleep, I was happy for my very first chance to have a private conversation.

-- TUESDAY, MAY 9, 2006, SENIOR YEAR --

"So there I was, buried inside her and flush with post-orgasmic happiness. I finally had her back, on top of all the other good things happening for me, and I remember thinking, 'Life can't get any better than this.' For the very first time since Dawn showed up at the front door smelling like sex and told me she was breaking up with me, I felt... whole."

With moisture in my eyes as I stared at the far wall, I marveled over the sensation of absolute peace I'd touched ever so briefly. If there was a heaven in the afterlife, I'd found it.

"And then I lost it..."

Inhaling deeply and clenching my teeth, I fought the urge to break down and sob my heart out. I knew my dream hadn't been real, but the memories were so vivid and sharp that it was hard to consider them as anything but actual memories. To have such a clear picture of one way my life could have turned out so perfectly, only to discover myself back at the moment of injury and loss, it was ... well ... it was absolutely crushing.

I didn't know whether to think that I'd actually died and gone to heaven only to be brought back to life by Amber's medical wizardry, or that I'd merely hallucinated the whole thing as my body went hypoxic. If heaven, then I certainly wished Amber hadn't saved me and I'd been able to continue on in divine bliss for all eternity. If a hallucination, then I wished the delusional visions would fade so I would no longer so acutely feel this paralyzing sense of loss.

Or perhaps I'd somehow piggybacked on the mental experience of some other Ben in a parallel universe that branched off as different decisions were made and everything turned out peachy keen. But if that was the case, the very notion that some other Ben got to live that perfect life while I was stuck ... here...

Well it made me want to cry.

"It's okay. You can let it out," Adrienne soothed, squeezing me tight.

She'd climbed onto the bed with me partway through my recounting of my fantasy four months. I'd held nothing back from her, spelling out every detail I could remember, so I could be sure that somebody knew this story lest my memory fade and the recollection be lost forever. My sense of loss had been growing more and more as I talked, and I'd been on the verge of tears for a while now.

I glanced across the room at the other bed. It was still early in the morning and my roommate was still asleep. Had he been awake I figured my ego would not have let me actually break down, but asleep he was and break down I did. As I hunched over, the first droplets splattered my cheeks. And following them came the deluge as the overwhelming weight of everything that had happened to me finally came crashing down.

Adrienne didn't ask questions. She didn't try to analyze my psyche, judge me, or break down the wealth of information I'd shared. She simply held me, reminded me she was there, and whispered over and again how much she loved me.

And I cried.

For the first time since waking up alone in a hospital bed less two days ago, I cried, only now letting the full weight of everything that had happened to me really hit home.

I cried for my lost fantasy vision, for the reunions and reconciliations between me, Dawn, DJ, Brooke, and Kim that had apparently never happened.

I cried for my physical pain, for the open wound in the side of my head that still needed time to heal and would leave a scar upon me for the rest of my life.

I cried for my fear, for the idea that I'd now gotten shot twice, and that if I continued living my life the way I had with such reckless disregard for my own safety, the third time might be the charm that actually killed me.

And I cried for my friends and loved ones, the people who cared about and depended on me continuing to stay alive, and how close I'd come to letting them all down.

For my parents, who had put such faith and trust in me as their son to live and learn from my own mistakes.

For my sisters, who had all counted on having their brother around for protection, advice, and sibling companionship as they grew older and experienced the world for themselves.

For Adrienne, who was my rock and I hers. I was her anchor, the lifelong love she depended on always being there for her no matter where life took her.

For my girlfriends, Sasha and Andie. Though I'd never formally termed them as such, it was a title they both deserved, as they'd both invested so much of their time and so much of their love in a man they hoped would eventually love them back. Sasha especially, since I'd started to actually do so.

For my friends, who all shared their daily lives with me.

And for Kim, the mother of my child who I'd promised I would always take care of, and for our son, who hadn't even been born yet and might never have had the chance to meet his father.

I'd almost let them all down.

Losing my heaven, losing that sense of completion and feeling whole again, that hurt. But the idea of disappointing all those people who'd depended on me, well ... that hurt even more.

I realized how cliché it must seem that this single traumatic event would change my life, but it had. I'd gotten shot before, but this was different. The thing with Adrienne's brother Adam had been but a minor speed bump compared to this. My injuries had been minor flesh wounds, fixed up by bandages and creams. I'd never lost consciousness, and Adam Dennis had gone and gotten himself killed all on his own shortly after. I'd carry the bullet scars for the rest of my life, but they weren't even noticeable unless you looked closely. And likewise, the impact of those events on my present lifestyle had been relatively minimal, save for the way they'd brought me and Adrienne closer together than ever.

This was different. Too much had happened.

Two people had died.

One of them at MY hands.

Although it seemed that everything I'd experienced for what felt like the last four months was nothing but a figment of my imagination, one thing was definitely true: I'd killed Carter. Although my parents wouldn't give me the details of what had happened in that bedroom after I'd gone unconscious, Adrienne, Brooke, and DJ had filled me in last night after the cops left and my curiosity was at its peak.

My letter opener hadn't severed an artery, like in my dream. Instead I'd punctured his heart, and while Cameron's gunshot wound would likely have taken Carter's life, my last ditch effort to end the fight had put a small tear in his left ventricle. The last moments of his heart beating had pushed the life out of him and he was dead on the floor before the paramedics arrived. And as much as I detested what he'd done, the thought of a human being losing his life in such a manner because of what I'd done made me sick to my stomach.

At least Elyse had survived. Carter had shot her at point-blank range, and the bullet had passed straight through her body between her clavicle and scapula, missing any vital organs or arteries by mere millimeters. She'd been placed into a restricted unit as well, and since she didn't even know how to contact her evil stepmother, there was no one allowed to visit her. But the nurses had told the girls that much, and while Elyse's recovery time would be somewhat longer than mine since she'd suffered a good deal more tissue damage than I had, in the end she would be just fine.

Maybe someday soon I could talk to her. Maybe someday soon I could ask her WHY she'd fought so hard that night, for Cameron and for me. Because bottom line: if it wasn't for her, I'd be dead. She'd fought Carter off when he had the drop on me ... twice. She'd saved me. Elyse Laughton had saved my life, and I really wanted to thank her for that.

For now, I had to be content that she'd lived. I had to be content that somebody had lived, because the other woman in that room had not.

I'd actually watched Cameron die. Though I'd suffered a concussion and my vision was blurry, I distinctly remembered looking around the room for both her and Elyse after slamming that letter opener into Carter's chest. She wasn't far away, having sunk to her own knees to sob in anguish while watching Carter die. I'd wanted to reach out to her, to say or do something when she turned that gun around and pushed the muzzle against her naked breast. But I'd been too weak. I'd watched the life flash out of her eyes when the gun went off. And witnessing her body fall backwards onto the floor and twitch for a few painful seconds as her future bled out of her had been too much for me to take.

In my dream, I'd conjured up a last-second rescue. In my dream, Cameron had lived and gone on to start a new life with Amber.

But that was just a dream. And as I stopped to think about the harshness of reality, well ... it was a good thing they weren't giving me solid food, because if they had I would have vomited it all up.

My whole purpose for being in that house had been to rescue Cameron. I hadn't done that, and despite all my best efforts, she was now dead. Just one more person I'd let down. Two, when you figured that Amber had been counting on me to help.

My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't been there, Cameron and Carter both might still be alive. Maybe Carter would still have both Elyse and Cameron in his clutches, and maybe their lives wouldn't be so hunky dory for it, but at least they'd all be alive. Maybe someone else could have done a better job rescuing them at a later date, like ... oh... the police, maybe? SWAT? DEA? Somebody actually trained? Somebody actually qualified to be a hero? Not some self-righteous, stupidly reckless, one semester of Krav Maga and ballroom dancing MORON like me.

Two people dead, Elyse in a hospital room recovering from her own gunshot wound – from a bullet intended for me – and the blame lay squarely at my feet. I'd been too much in shock last night to really think about it, but I was thinking about it now.

One more thing to cry about.

My parents and the twins returned to the hospital mid-morning to hang out and talk to me, although there wasn't much to say and the twins spent most of their time reading, texting, or playing video games. After another round of tests to make sure I was healthy enough to go home, along with careful instructions on how to take care of my head wound and several prescriptions, the hospital discharged me shortly after lunch. Adrienne drove me home in the Mustang, and we arrived to find a whole crowd of college coeds (and Bert) waiting in the house to greet me.

Andie was the first out the front door, and she had to visibly restrain herself from attempting a leap into my arms. She settled for a wraparound hug and seemed content to never let me go until Sasha simply hugged us both ... and then Jamie ... and Peyton ... and Jocelyn ... and Tonya. I think Andie started having trouble breathing beneath all that affection; I know I did. And when Adrienne noticed I was beginning to suffocate she managed to pry everyone off.

The gang spent a little over an hour satisfying their curiosity and asking me questions about what happened. At some point, Peyton started ushering everyone out to leave me and my family in peace during this difficult time. Paige said her family was praying for me. Bert gave me a fist bump, told me Lynne sent her regards, and headed out. Near tears, even Andie departed, but Sasha stuck around since ... well ... she lived here.

My family set me up in my bedroom while Dad drove out to pick up my prescriptions. After another round of painkillers, I conked out for an afternoon nap. And when I woke, it was to the smell of Mom's meatloaf, one of my favorite comfort foods.

I found that the Evanses had come by for dinner, and that Brandi and Dayna had come over from The City. We filled up the living room and spread out across all the available seats, anywhere from three to six different conversations going on at any given time. While nobody avoided talking about the incident at Carter's, we didn't go out of our way to bring up the subject, either. For the most part, conversation centered around the details of how long everyone would be staying in town now that I was no longer in the hospital. The twins still had to complete their Junior year of high school, which didn't finish until mid-June, and of course my parents still had work. They would actually be driving back down tomorrow, leaving Adrienne in charge of looking after my well-being with the promise to return if needed.

Of course, they weren't the only ones present from out of town. Everyone wanted to talk to Dawn about her time at Camp and what her plans were for the rest of the summer as well.

If there was a silver lining in me getting shot, it was that all of the animosity and awkwardness over Dawn's last real interaction with all of us was gone. That hateful New Year's Eve phone call had been forgotten, and I learned that she and DJ had spoken several times after the abortion and break-up, and they'd decided to let bygones be bygones and move forward as sisters. Really, the only unresolved issues were those between Dawn and me, but nobody was going out of their way to bring those up at the moment.

As with my parents and the twins, Dawn said she'd probably head back to camp tomorrow. Norma had given her leave to take as much time as she needed, but I was no longer in immediate danger and she wasn't the type of person to shirk her responsibilities. Left unsaid was her desire to still talk to me, privately, but the look she gave me was as clear as if she'd spoken the request directly into my ear. I knew that one way or another, before she left we would have our one-on-one talk.

But someone beat her to the punch: my dad.

I took a shower after dinner, although not without help. Though my head was no longer bandaged, I wasn't allowed to get my stitches wet until tomorrow, so Adrienne sat me down on the bench and used the detachable shower head to clean me up herself. It was probably the first time in my life I spent that much time around a naked, wet Adrienne without getting an erection. But while there was nothing wrong with my hardware, I simply wasn't in the mood, even stopping her when she used her soapy hands to start a teasing handjob in the hopes of lifting my spirits a little.

We were in our room getting dressed when Dad knocked at the door. I hadn't yet put on a shirt, but we made sure Adrienne was presentable before inviting him in. And I realized the hammer that hadn't fallen last night would finally be coming down when he asked, "Adrienne, will you excuse us for a few minutes?"

With a short bow of her head, Adrienne took her leave and closed the door behind her. I finished putting on my shirt and gestured for Dad to join me in the sitting area. I took my usual armchair, and a second later Dad sighed as he sat on the edge of the seat in front of me, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped as he leaned forward toward me.

"How are you feeling?" he began, his tone warm but firm. We both knew that some reprimanding was in order.

I nodded. "Pretty good, all things considering. The painkillers seem to be doing a good job of turning my splitting headaches into mere throbbing headaches. To be honest, the worst is the itch that's only just started. I know it means my skin is healing, but the urge to reach up and just start clawing at my stitches with my fingernails is maddening."

"The doctor said you can take Benadryl, right?"

I nodded. "I probably will tonight just to make sure I don't scratch them out in my sleep. For now, it'd make me drowsy and I feel like I've spent too much time sleeping lately."

Dad favored me with a teasing smile as he mimed the area on the upper-right side of his own head. "Well at least you don't have to worry about bed head anymore."

I rolled my eyes, thinking about how they'd shaved that side of my head for the surgical drainage. The rest of my hair was all still in place, but the whole thing looked weird enough that I'd already insisted I'd buzz all of my hair off and let it re-grow uniformly. I'd gotten used to having a shaved head and re-growing my hair over the last four months anyway, even if it had never really happened.

We both quieted down, letting his lame joke linger for far too long. Dad was trying to break the ice before really getting into it, but at this point I would rather just get it over with.

Taking a deep breath, Dad sat up straighter and raised his elbows onto the armrests of the chair. I readied myself for his rebuke of disappointment in my decision-making, but instead he gave me a sad look and said, "I'm so sorry, son. I haven't done my job as a father."

I blinked in surprise and arched an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"This..." he began, miming the upper-right side of his head again, "is partially my fault. There were signs, well before things came to this, that you were starting to get in over your head. There were some discussions, between me, your mother, and the Evanses about whether or not you were starting to lose your sense of perspective. But all the while, -I- more than anyone else insisted that you could handle yourself, that you were a grown man capable of being responsible for his own life, and I talked everyone else into letting you continue without interference."

I kept blinking, not yet understanding as I repeated, "Huh?"

"Your mother thought I should have sat down and had this talk with you a long time ago. Certainly, if other people out there could observe our situation and look at how we've handled things, they might judge us poorly for our own decision-making more than yours. But we've done our best to raise you the best way we knew how, in a way not so dissimilar from our own upbringing. We took pride in the level of independence our children have shown from a very young age, at a time when other parents have to keep babysitters and other guardians watching over their kids because even their teenagers can't fend for themselves on the most basic levels. But my pride almost cost you your life, and for that, I'm very sorry."

Frowning and arching an eyebrow, I gave my dad a look of confusion. "Uh, me getting shot has nothing to do with you."

"Everything you do has everything to do with me. You're my son."

"That's all fine on a theoretical level, but you didn't even know where I was going that night." A sudden thought occurred to me, and I added with furrowed eyebrows, "Did you?"

Dad shook his head, and explained, "And that's where I failed you."

I still didn't understand, and Dad stood up from his chair and paced around the back of it. I saw some of my own mannerisms in the way he held his hands behind his back as he went to look out the window for a moment before returning and leaning forward, his hands braced on the backrest of the armchair. "Do you remember jungle gyms? The big rectangular monkey bar sets or the geodesic domes you always crawled all over as a kid? I've noticed they don't make them anymore; too many liability lawsuits."

I frowned, not understanding where he was going with this, but I shrugged and leaned against the backrest of my chair.

"You were walking before you were a year old, and climbing every structure you could find before you were a year-and-a-half. Your mother thought I was crazy for letting you climb some of that playground equipment when the signs clearly stated they were designed for ages 5 through 12, even before you were two. But you LOVED to climb, and you complained if I didn't let you. So I let you."

I shrugged, starting to get a sense of where he was going with this. "Okay."

"You almost never looked down. No fear. Brandi, on the other hand, was a little scaredy-cat. She was four and didn't want to get three feet off the ground unless somebody was holding her hand, but not you. Higher and higher you wanted to go, until you'd reached the top and there was nothing left to conquer. And you never looked down."

"This supposed to be an analogy to me ignoring the risks of my actions or something?"

"Or something. We'll get to you ignoring risks in a minute, but the point is that you always climbed like you were totally alone. You were singularly-focused on the challenge ahead of you, and you never stopped to notice where I was until you'd reached the top and wanted to crow down, 'Daddy, I did it!'"

"Okay."

"Thing is: you didn't make it every time. When you were a toddler, you fell more often than you succeeded. When you were two, you probably made it half the time. And even when you were five, you still fell every now and again, mostly because you were rushing things instead of being careful."

I smirked and shrugged. "Guess not much has changed since I was five."

Dad smiled and shook his head ruefully. "No, not much. But do you remember what happened each time that you fell?"

"I picked myself up and tried again?"

"Close." Dad took a deep breath and gave me a steady look as he circled back in front of the chair and sat down. "I would be there to catch you."

I blinked and thought about that.

"You never paid any attention to whether or not I was there. But especially under those geodesic domes, or the monkey bars, or the trapeze rings, I was always right beneath you, ready to catch you when you fell. You never wanted my help. One of my strongest memories is of you standing on a platform underneath an overhead ladder. I think you were about four. You weren't even tall enough to reach the first bar, but you wouldn't let me hoist you up. You must've jumped for that bar twenty times, and I always caught you. You always pushed at my chest in annoyance and insisted you could do it yourself, but I always caught you."

"Yay, Dad of the Year," I drawled. "You've made your point."

He frowned at my defensive tone, a disappointed look on his face. "The point is that from the time you were ten and we started letting you figure out your own way to get home from elementary school or stay at home by yourself, we've done our best to encourage your independence. Not just you, but all of your sisters, even the twins. We let you make a ton of decisions in your life, from what clothes you wanted to wear in first grade to organizing your daily schedule in high school to allow for both socialization and time to finish your homework. We've always strived to teach you self-sufficiency, and except for you apparently never getting around to learning how to cook until this year, I think we as parents did a pretty good job."

I sat up straight and nodded sincerely. "I think you have, with all of us: Brandi, Brooke, Eden, Emma. I genuinely believe we're all strong, confident, capable individuals."

Dad smiled and nodded. "The thing is, we've let you all think you're going through life by yourselves. We've done our best to stay in the background, to let you make your own decisions, and not depend on us to give you all the answers. But that doesn't mean we weren't around. That doesn't mean we weren't involved. You were always climbing those jungle gyms by yourself. But you always had a safety net."

My eyes narrowed as I thought back over my childhood. Despite everything Dad had just said about letting us make our own decisions, I couldn't think of any significant periods of time when my parents weren't around. My memory was a little hazy on everything prior to high school. My days from age 13 and earlier just weren't all that important to me right now, save perhaps for my early memories of Dawn. But when I thought about how my parents did let me set my own schedule and figure out how to squeeze in homework and studying along with my time spent with friends, I realized that they were still there every day, asking if I'd finished all my chores and inquiring as to how things were going at school. I thought about how my parents always seemed to know what was going on in my friends' lives, and I realized that they always managed to get me to TELL them what was going on in my friends' lives over dinner or on the weekends. I thought about the knowing looks Mom would give me after I'd started having sex with Keira McNeil, and how she hadn't even been surprised when I took up with Brandi and then Brooke. I thought of the way she'd make a comment and then just sort of stare at me for a while until I rambled out more details than I'd originally intended to say. And above all else, I remembered deciding with the twins that I'd take their virginities when they turned 15 and then changing my mind, only to discover that Mom had known all along and would never have let me go through with it in the first place.

Dad was talking again. "Sometimes you were so distracted by whatever toy or challenge was in front of you that you forgot we were there until we caught you as you fell. Sometimes we deliberately LET you fall, because we knew you could handle it and would learn from your mistakes. But don't ever think your mother and I didn't care. Don't ever think we weren't paying attention. Because we do. We care. And we genuinely thought you were ready to be on your own by the time you moved up here to go to college."

Now it was my turn to mime the upper-right side of my head. "All evidence to the contrary."

Dad sighed. "And therein lies my failure."

"You didn't fail me. I'm a grown man."

"And I'm your father, your ONLY father. The job of being your dad falls on ME, and me alone. Your mother has certainly been involved, of course. But maybe it's a guy thing, because I have to admit I've devoted more of my time and attention to you than your sisters. I tried my best to give you a good foundation, to be more hands on and involved in your life through adolescence. But once you got to high school, I deliberately stepped back a bit to let you learn from your mistakes. You built some very strong bonds with your sisters during those years, sharing advice with each other and getting more involved in taking care of each other, both with Brandi and Brooke. Those are the kinds of confidante relationships that will stay with you long after your mother and I are dead and gone."

I frowned and thought about that. I remembered being a kid running to my parents every time I needed advice or reassurance. But definitely as a teenager I felt myself going more to my siblings, or even Keira, for advice instead. I'd figured it was my teenaged need to assert self-independence, and maybe it was. But it hadn't occurred to me that my parents had deliberately stepped away to watch me mature a little more on my own.

Dad kept going. "Clearly, I've been much more hands off since you came up here for school. That's a simple matter of geography, and you've only been home twice in the last two years. I've kept in touch with Jack and Deanna, gotten regular updates about you from your sisters, including Adrienne. I've heard about some of the shenanigans you've gotten into, including a sex life that quite frankly has been far more varied than my own. I've heard of your successes and also your failures. I've kept up with your romantic dramas and especially that heartbreak with Dawn. And we ALL were paying careful attention when DJ turned up pregnant."

"Ah. That."

Dad exhaled slowly. "When DJ turned up pregnant, we realized it was an accident. Short of stopping you two from having sex, it was rather unavoidable. When you decided to get married, we and her parents sat down and had a lot of discussions about that before deciding we didn't want to intervene. You and DJ could have been very happy together, and still could be, honestly. You may not remember all the questions we were asking you around that time, but your mother and I went to a lot of effort to make sure your head was in the right place when it came to the idea of settling down with DJ, and we had to be convinced to let you proceed. Brooke, especially, wanted to see both of you happy, and she argued quite strongly that it would be best for both of you and your baby for you two to get married."

"Yeah well that didn't happen." Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and added, "And then I went and did something really impulsive with Kim."

Dad's eyebrows popped and he nodded in agreement with me.

Dad sighed and shook his head. "Your mother wanted me to come straight up here when we found out about Kim. I believe she wanted me to ask you point blank, 'Son ... What the fuck do you think you're doing?'"

I snickered at that.

"See, that just highlighted a series of monumentally rash decisions you made without consulting us: proposal, abortion, impregnating Kim. And do I really need to mention a certain video of your penis floating around on the internet? I get that you were trying to help Adrienne's career, but did you stop to consider its impact on your life and career? And I'm not saying you needed to ask our approval before proposing to DJ, but children usually tell their parents that a proposal is at least being considered ahead of time, not to mention traditionally asking permission from the bride's parents."

"Well technically, I DID already ask the Evanses for permission to marry their daughter. When I asked about Dawn, Jack said, 'I'd have given you permission for any of them.'"

"I'm being serious," Dad stated solemnly. "You proposed without consulting us, which may have not been such a big deal. But what concerned us more was that you and DJ had an abortion without consulting us."

"That was DJ's decision. It's her body, and--"

"We're not denying DJ's right to decide, but we would have appreciated a chance to talk about it. We ALL thought abortion wasn't even a consideration, and then you two blindsided everyone by telling us 'It's done', and then you compounded that by leaving the Evans house right after. Deanna, especially, was quite hurt to have not been consulted."

"Deanna would have just tried to talk DJ out of it."

"And you would have objected if she did? I seem to recall that both you and Brooke were trying to accomplish the same feat. You apparently asked Adrienne for help. Maybe DJ's mom would have succeeded where you failed. Maybe the woman DJ trusts the most when it comes to expertise on motherhood might have been able to say something to put her youngest daughter at ease with the situation. Jack and Deanna are her parents, and damn good ones in my opinion, and they probably would have supported her in ways you – the boy she feared losing – could not."

"I did my best."

"I don't doubt that you did. But you didn't let us help. Do you have any idea how much it crushed Deanna to find that you and DJ made that kind of decision without her knowledge. Do you know how helpless she felt later on when DJ fell into that depression? At least Brooke had the good sense to involve her in THAT situation. I realize that Deanna can be a bit overbearing sometimes when it comes to marrying you off to one of her girls, but at the same time she loves her daughters in a way even you can't understand."

"I get it, I get it."

"Do you really? Look at what happened: Baby aborted, relationship ruined, and DJ borderline suicidal, so guilt-ridden at the mere sight of you that Brooke and all of us thought it best to just keep you away from DJ entirely. Now maybe even her parents couldn't have talked DJ into keeping the baby if they'd been a part of that original decision, but for all you know, maybe their influence could have ultimately meant that you and DJ wouldn't have broken up."

I felt my stomach twist into a knot. What if?

"As for Kim, well..." Dad continued with a shrug, "in the end we decided not to interfere at that time. Clearly, you were in emotional anguish, and while we did go out of our way to communicate that we supported whatever decisions about Kim you made, perhaps you'd have been better off if we'd tried to stay in more regular contact. But abortion was never a consideration – we already knew you would want to keep the baby and stand by his mother – so there wasn't a whole lot we could say. This wasn't how your mother and I planned on becoming grandparents, and while all four of us parents had an easier time accepting things when DJ became pregnant, we couldn't let our selfish desires take precedence over what ultimately is your choice in a mate."

"I'm not going to marry Kim."

"I know that. Everything your sisters have told me about your relationship with her has indicated that marriage is not what either of you want. And that's good, I think. Having a baby alone is not reason enough to get married."

"Well then I'm glad you and I are in agreement."

"Of course, things blew up soon after that, and as I understand it, Kim is at home with her family. But while we weren't around to talk about that situation then, we'd be happy to talk about it now that we're here. I can even go with you to visit the Fukuzaki's, and I can have a father-to-father chat with him."

"Dear god, no."

Dad chuckled. "I thought not. Well, at least I can be a sounding board so you can talk through your hopes and desires and worries about the situation, and maybe your old man's wealth of experience can come up with a solution that will work for everyone involved."

I grimaced and took a deep breath. "Maybe, but not right this minute, huh?"

Dad shrugged. "Of course not. We have other, more immediate issues to talk about." Once again he mimed the upper-right side of his head.

I winced and rubbed my forehead. Was it too early to take another round of painkillers?

Dad rubbed his forehead just like me, looking like he wouldn't mind his own batch of painkillers. "Look, this whole thing was a wakeup call not just for you, but also for us. In raising Brandi, we could trust her not to get in over her head to this degree. We had our ups and downs in learning to be parents, and maybe we were a little more nervous and a little more protective of her from the beginning. When it came to raising you, we were much more relaxed and ... well ... permissive. Part of it is that you're not the eldest, but you're not one of the babies, either. Plus, you're a boy; that may not be fair, but it's true. Your mother always said that with you she only has to worry about one penis. With your sisters, she has to worry about ALL penises."

I snickered again.

"So we gave you a lot more leeway than we did with your sisters. That almost haunted us when the whole thing with Adrienne's brother went down and you picked up your first two bullet scars. Honestly, I thought that would have scared some sense into you to not go rushing headlong into dangerous situations that might be beyond your capabilities."

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "He had Emma."

"I get it. At least, I got THAT. This time? None of your sisters was in danger. Trying to find a woman you barely knew, in a house full of drug dealers? Son ... what the fuck were you thinking?"

I put my face in my palm and started rubbing. "I ... I was an idiot."

"Damn fucking straight you were. And if it makes you feel any better, your mother is in the other room scolding the hell out of Adrienne for letting you go there in the first place, too."

I grimaced and stared over at the wall toward the other bedroom. Rather than make me feel better, that knowledge only made me feel worse for getting Adrienne into trouble, too.

"And what makes it worse is that you let Brooke and DJ go there, too! Honestly, I think that's most disappointing part of all this. I can understand the two of you believing you can handle yourselves, but to let the younger girls continue to go back there again and again?"

"I TOLD them the place was sketchy. I DID warn them."

"But you didn't STOP them. Now maybe Brooke and DJ are legal adults, and they can make their own decisions. But I don't think it ever occurred to you to let ME know my daughter was walking into a known drug house, and THAT has to change! Do you think Jack Evans wouldn't want to know DJ was putting herself into danger? Your mother and I aren't in the Bay Area. We're five hundred miles away, and we trusted big brother to do everything in his power to keep those girls safe. I don't expect you to control Brooke, but you should have told me what was up. The job of being Brooke's father falls on ME, and if I'd known where she was, I'd have marched into that place and dragged her sorry ass out of there myself."

"I didn't think she was in serious danger."

"Two people from that house are dead, and you've just gotten out of a hospital bed. Still think your sister wasn't in serious danger?"

I swallowed thickly and averted my eyes.

Dad let out a heavy sigh. "Ben, you're my son – my only son – and in a lot of ways I think you're a fine young man. You've matured in so many ways, you're about to graduate college, and for that I'm immensely proud. But I think my pride in you has blinded me to some of the areas you haven't developed as well as you should have. You're twenty-two now; you're not a teenager anymore. You can't go on thinking you're invincible and that everything will turn out alright in the end. You've now gotten shot in THREE PLACES: head, cheek, and side. Do you have any idea the odds of that happening with none of the bullets hitting something vital? Even so, you nearly DIED this time. You could have gone into ... What did they call it? ... hypovolemic shock or something. Even though that bullet didn't crack your skull, you lost so much blood that another few minutes may have killed you. What if a trained doctor hadn't been right outside? What would have happened to you then?"

I suddenly realized that I hadn't seen Amber yet, at least not since waking up on the floor of Carter's bedroom. She'd been prevented from seeing me while I was in the restricted unit, and she'd already left by the time I was moved to a regular shared hospital room. No doubt she was dealing with her own demons after failing to save Cameron. Her friend's death had to be hitting her even harder than it was for me, and I wondered where she was now.

"I'm sorry," I replied weakly.

"It's not about you apologizing to me," Dad sighed. "I just hope you don't brush this off like nothing ever happened."

"Believe me, that's not going to be the case."

"I want to believe you. I really do. And because you're my son, I'm going to have faith that you WILL change the way you live your life to make sure something like this never happens again. But like I said, this is a wakeup call for me, too. And the change -I- have to make is to take a more active role in your life. I'm sorry, Ben, but pulling shit like this has earned you a little more direct supervision and a little bit shorter of a leash than you used to have. Your Mom and I have always been there as a safety net for you, but rather than let you figure things out and come to us when you needed us, WE'RE going to be checking in on you a little more often."

My shoulders slumped, but what could I say? That I was a 22-year-old grown man who didn't need his parents' supervision anymore? Maybe, but the fact was that I'd actually rather have my parents care and want to be involved than otherwise. So with a shrug I replied rather meekly, "Yes, Dad."

His expression softened, and leaning back he put his elbows on the armrests and spread his hands to the sides, palm-up. "This isn't meant to be a punishment. Your mother and I LOVE you, and we want what's best for you, and quite frankly, we want you to outlive us, you know?"

I managed a smile at that. "I know."

"We're not going to treat you like a child. I WANT you to live your own life. You'll still be free to climb that geodome on your own, but maybe this time we'll make it a little more obvious that we're there as your safety net. Maybe this time we'll offer you a hand instead of waiting for you to ask for one. Because at the end of the day, I'm your Dad, the only one you've got. And that means that no matter how many loved ones you have in your life – sisters, girlfriends, wives – the job of taking care of you ultimately falls on me."

Dad left my room first, giving me a reassuring nod before closing the door behind him to leave me alone with my thoughts. I appreciated the gesture, but I'd already had plenty of time alone with my thoughts after spending nearly two days isolated in the restricted unit. Plus, my brain hurt after that long conversation with my Dad, so after less than a minute I got up, opened the door, and headed downstairs.

My living room was full of people, although I noticed that Mom and Adrienne were missing and probably having a conversation even longer than the one I'd had with Dad. Brandi cracked a joke about Dad giving me the third degree and Brooke playfully inspected me for the kind of tracking ankle monitor the police used to keep tabs on paroled criminals. Dayna commented that we should all worry more for Adrienne, since my dad was actually the "Good Cop" parent. She also giggled about a famous supermodel lusted after by millions getting dressed down by my "mommy".

I wondered aloud how it must feel for Adrienne to get dressed down by ANY mommy, given that she'd practically raised herself since junior high.

I also found Dawn staring over at me, worry and longing evident in her eyes. It wasn't a romantic longing so much as a desire to sit down and really talk to me, but my emotions were still a total mess and that conversation with my dad hadn't exactly put me in a peaceful mood.

I can't. I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for that yet.

Dawn blinked twice, as if acknowledging the unspoken thought in her head. She pursed her lips in a disappointed sigh, but nodded and returned to the conversation she'd been having with DJ.

Jack Evans was watching Game 7 of the Lakers-Suns playoff series, and I settled in to watch it with him. Like always, he offered me a beer, but I mimed a hand over the upper-right side of my head and he chuckled his understanding.

As an L.A.-area native, it was a pretty bad game to watch. The Lakers were getting their asses handed to them and it wasn't even close. But despite being surrounded by loved ones at a time like this, I wasn't in the mood for conversation. In the end, Jack, Deanna, Dayna, Brandi, Dawn, DJ, and Brooke all got ready to leave. And since I was now back home, there were no immediate plans for them to return.

The Evans parents hugged me and wished me well. Dayna and Brandi said they'd come back over the weekend if I was up for visitors. And Brooke and DJ said they'd stop by tomorrow. The final person to hug me was Dawn, who'd been hanging back with a glum expression on her face. We were both only too aware of the dozen pairs of eyeballs on us, and her embrace was just as chaste as before. But when she pulled back I turned my head and looked her in the eye. And with an apologetic shrug, I said, "Come back tomorrow, okay? There are things we need to say to each other."

Dawn's eyes brightened for just a moment, and she nodded agreeably. At the last possible moment before we separated, she darted back in and pecked my cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said. With a blush she turned away, and she was the first person out the door.

Once they were gone, the rest of us started preparing for bed. I said goodnight to my parents and the twins before heading upstairs. Sasha hadn't taken a shower yet, so she went into the bathroom. But Adrienne went with me into our bedroom.

My "sister" and I sat up against the headboard for about fifteen minutes, sharing what Mom and Dad had lectured us about. Mom had given Adrienne a similar "safety net" speech, although they had also spent significant time discussing both what Adrienne really wanted out of her relationship with me and also her role in being eyes and ears for my parents to watch out for me. But we didn't really get into the details before Sasha came into the room.

Though we'd seen each other and talked several times both in the hospital and here at home, this was really the first time Sasha and I were together without my parents around. Despite our professions of love before I'd walked out the door to nearly meet my doom at Carter's house, there hadn't really been any opportunities for Sasha to express that love or her relief that I was alive, not with a dozen people around at all times. Every now and again I'd glance over and find my "notgirlfriend" giving me these looks of longing not so different from Dawn's. Clearly, Sasha had felt like an outsider amongst the members of "The Family", and she'd acted more like the old prim and reserved Sasha of last year than of recent memory.

But "The Family" was out of sight now. The only one in the room with us was Adrienne, and she was already slipping off the bed. "I think I'll leave you two lovebirds alone for a little bit," she said with a bemused smile as she leaned over and pecked my cheek.

Hair damp and dressed in familiar pajamas, Sasha nodded gratefully and exchanged a peck on the lips with Adrienne as the blonde walked out and closed the door behind her. And Sasha walked over to the side of the bed, looking down at me with large, luminous eyes full of love, concern, and relief.

"Hey there..." I began gently.

Sasha's eyes suddenly hardened, and before I knew what was going on, she'd climbed onto the bed with me as she started slapping my chest and arms with her open hands. "You fucking BASTARD!" she barked, focusing as she hit me three more times.

Instinctively I'd raised my hands to defend myself, using my palms and forearms to ward off her blows even though none of them were very hard. She seemed more spastic than enraged. Still, I wondered, What the HECK is going on?!?

But all of a sudden, the blows stopped coming as Sasha sobbed and fell against my side. She buried her face into my chest as she wrapped her arms around me and broke down into big wracking shudders. "You promised me you wouldn't get hurt!" she whimpered. "You promised me! And on top of all that, you nearly got Elyse KILLED! But more... seriously ... you PROMISED ME I WOULDN'T LOSE YOU!!!"

Wrapping her up in my arms, I squeezed her as tightly as my strength would allow. And kissing the top of her head, I sighed and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Neither Sasha nor I said anything for a little while. She closed her eyes and pillowed her head on my chest, spending some time just listening to me breathe. I think she found it reassuring, as if each breath were a reminder that I was indeed alive. Perhaps in her position she could even hear my heart beat.

I found her silence reassuring. You'd think that I was sick of silence after all that time spent in isolation, alone with my thoughts, but what I really appreciated was Sasha's presence without the need for conversation. Whenever my parents had come by my private room, they'd spent all of their allotted time asking and answering questions. When I was moved into a regular room, the rest of my family had even more questions. The cops had questions. The doctors and nurses had questions. And yeah, even when everyone left and it was just me and Adrienne, she had more questions while I'd also wanted to tell her about my dream.

Sasha had questions, too, that I knew. But for now I appreciated the warmth of her body against mine without the pressure of an interrogation, and I busied myself in the feel of her body beneath her clothes as I stroked her side and cuddled her against me.

Eventually, Sasha took a deep breath and tilted her head back to look at me. I looked down at her, waiting patiently, as she scanned my eyes and formulated her words. She inhaled, and after a moment's pause, she stated, "I know you don't want to talk about the shooting anymore. It happened, shit went wrong, but it's all in the past now. You're alive ... mostly ... and that's what's really important. As for the rest, sunk costs, right?"

I didn't know if I could dismiss "the rest" so easily, especially since two people had died, but I appreciated the sentiment. Although I knew the events of Saturday night would haunt me for years to come, if not the rest of my life, I wouldn't mind not having to think about them for a little while, and I nodded silently.

"So I'm going to change the subject a bit, to not dwell on what can't be changed," Sasha continued. "And I'm going to get a little self-centered here for a minute."

That got an eyebrow raise. "'Self-centered'?"

"What happens to me now? What happens to us now? Please tell me if you don't think this is an appropriate time for this conversation, and if the circumstances were different I'd never ask you about our relationship status, but I've felt like I've been in such limbo the last few days that it's been driving me nuts!"

"Huh?"

Sasha sighed as she rolled onto her belly and slid her forearms beneath her chest. Propped up and looking me in the eye, she gave me a lopsided frown and asked, "Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

I blinked and repeated, "Huh?"

Sasha's sardonic expression deepened. "It's a simple question. Do you or don't you?"

"It's not that simple."

"I know, but a simple answer sure would have come in handy these last couple of days. Look, I'm not going to claim for a second that I'm closer to you or more important to you than any of your family members, even the Evanses. There's history there that goes back before you were born; I get it. But Andie and I got to talking about feeling out of the loop these last few days. For the most part, your parents treated us just like any of the other girls, and while being 'just one of the girls' never bothered us before, we couldn't help but think that if either one of us, or even both, were your official girlfriends, then maybe we could have stuck around on Monday night instead of getting sent home with the others. Maybe Andie would be here right now instead of at the Chapter House worried sick about you."

"Andie..." I sighed. "I should probably call her."

Sasha nodded, and with large, liquid eyes, she whimpered and added, "Maybe -I- wouldn't feel like such an outsider here in this house. This is the first time your family has even met me, and everything's weird because they don't know whether to approach me as a woman you love or as 'just that girl who lives in that bedroom over there'. You know what I'm getting at?"

I blinked. "You want me to tell my family that you're my girlfriend? So that maybe they'll include you a little more and you won't feel like an extraneous wheel?"

"Would you mind? It's just felt so awkward these last couple of days and I don't want to keep biting my tongue and sitting on my feelings without trying to communicate them."

I arched an eyebrow. "Well, they are leaving tomorrow, so it won't be much of an issue in another few hours."

Sasha sighed. "I guess. It's just ... Well I guess this whole thing has made me wonder where I stand now."

"I thought we agreed – before everything that just happened – I thought we agreed that we wouldn't be official until Graduation at the earliest."

"We did, but that was before you got shot and nearly died and left me wondering whether or not I'd ever had a second boyfriend in my life. Before, it didn't seem to matter. I'm not the kind of girl who worries about anniversary dates or needs to crow to the world how long I've been with a guy as if time served in and of itself somehow makes the relationship stronger. What was important to me was how we felt about each other, and how much we wanted to be in each other's life. Before, I was content to let our relationship develop naturally, without pressuring you into intimacy you weren't ready for. Without labels and obligations and expectations."

"But now you want a label and all those obligations and expectations?"

"I feel like those obligations came to ME. I started asking myself why I wasn't stepping up more and asserting myself by your side, the way a girlfriend should do in a situation like that. Why wasn't I cuddling up next to you, reassuring you that everything was going to be okay and that I still loved you and would always love you? Aren't girlfriends supposed to support their man like that in a time of need? Aren't girlfriends supposed to bond with his mom and learn how to take care of him?"

"I think you're getting hung up on the way your relationship was with Rod and his family."

"No, I..." Sasha protested immediately before stopping to think about that. Her mouth gaped open for a moment before she rolled her eyes and admitted, "Well ... okay maybe. Rod broke his forearm playing football, and I remember doing all those things for him in the hospital. I remember how close I was to his mom, and how much we used to talk."

"I'm not Rod. And my mom isn't Mrs. Vandenberg."

"I know, I know. And I'm not trying to compare. It's just ... This is hard for me. Having you get shot and seeing you all pale and bandaged in a hospital bed." Sasha closed her eyes and put her face into the mattress, which muffled her next words a little bit, though I could still make them out. "I'm trying to be rational about this."

"Of course."

She picked her head back up and finished, "It's an emotional time for me, and I'm falling back on the familiar, on my single experience with this sort of thing. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. Sasha, you're doing nothing wrong. I'm fine. I've got a bit of a headache, but my stitches are holding and apart from a new battle scar I'll be good as new in no time, alright? I don't need you to be a supergirlfriend, not that I doubt that you could be if I did. There've been a lot of things about being with me that are radically different from your previous relationship, not the least of which is that you aren't – and unfortunately never will be – the only woman in my life. I don't have a little brother; I've got four sisters, five if you include Adrienne, and that doesn't even count the Evans girls."

"I know, I know. It's just..." Sasha made a face. "Okay you know what? Maybe it's NOT just about having a title in front of your family. That whole thing is a symptom, but not the underlying problem."

I frowned. "Then what IS?"

"I guess..." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "More than just not being your girlfriend in name, I worry that I'm not your girlfriend in spirit. Emotionally, let alone in title."

My eyebrows furrowed. "So you ARE pressuring me into intimacy I'm not ready for."

"No ... I mean ... Well..." She was so cute when she was flustered. "Okay, maybe. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to, but..."

I grinned and reached out to brush my fingertips across her cheek. "It's okay. Really, it's totally understandable. One minute, we both feel like there's no rush, we've got time, and we'll figure it out as we go. The next minute, I'm waking up in the hospital and you have eleven people suddenly show up in your house acting like they own the place."

"Eleven people, twelve including Adrienne, who are all apparently much closer to you than I am. Which makes me unlucky thirteen."

"You're not unlucky and they're my family."

Sasha sighed glumly. "And I'm not."

"That's a good thing."

"Is it? You're right, all of a sudden I was surrounded by twelve of your family members and I didn't feel like I belonged. They've all known you for such a long time, even Adrienne, and I feel like I only got to know the real you in the last year."

"Likewise."

"I'm not as close to you as they are."

"And you're not supposed to be. They're my family. I don't care what they think of me, I don't spend any time worried about how I look in front of them, and I certainly am not trying to impress them. Now I'm not trying to be insensitive, and maybe you haven't ever HAD a family like this – certainly not one so large – but you've got to realize that it's a great thing that I don't categorize you in with them."

"What are you saying, you don't want to be that close to me?"

"Someday, eventually, but not now. Getting to know each other, to develop that closeness is the fun part. I already know everything there is to know about my family, and there wouldn't be any mystery. You, on the other hand, still excite me. Even though we've known each other for a while now, and even though we've been living together since January, I still feel like I'm learning something new about you almost every day, and it's the process of getting to know you that makes this relationship worth pursuing. I care about how I come off in front of you. I try to avoid farting in front of you. I choose my best shirts and work hard to dress nice when I know I'm going to see you. You understand?"

"I..." Her brow was furrowed as she processed everything. "I think so."

"That excitement, that lack of mundane familiarity, that's being my girlfriend and not my sister, and that's okay. I'm sorry you don't feel as close to me as they are, but my relationships with them are long established. You, on the other hand, are still in my future, and I want to discover together what we can become."

"I do too. I love you, and I was so happy that things were progressing the way they were. But then you got shot and they all showed up and ... and..."

"And you got scared."

"Yeah. I was worried that after something that intense, I wouldn't matter to you anymore."

"What matters is that I DO love you; that part hasn't changed since I got shot. I DO appreciate everything you've come to mean in my life over this last year. And I DO want you to become my girlfriend, if not now then whenever we're both ready to make that sort of thing formal."

Sasha had picked her head up while I was talking, and she blinked at me with fresh tears in her eyes. "You do?"

I gave her a warm smile and nodded. "I do. I want you to be my girlfriend, Sasha. You already ARE my girlfriend."

Immediately, Sasha pushed herself up and punched my right arm. "You moron. You could have saved us both a lot of grief if you'd simply said 'Yes' the FIRST time I asked you if you wanted me to be your girlfriend ten minutes ago!"

I chuckled and shrugged. "But then you wouldn't have been able to tell me all that stuff about feeling like an outsider and trying to make sense of your feelings by comparing this situation to the one where Rod broke his arm. We wouldn't have talked about your fears of not being as close to me as my family is. That's communication, and ten minutes well spent. That's letting me know how you really feel, and to be perfectly honest, it's going to take a lot more of you initiating that sort of thing if we're going to make this relationship last, because I suck at it."

"You don't suck at it." Sasha gave me an impish smile as she crawled up my chest and gently laid her lips against mine. "It's like everything else in your life: cooking, dancing, making love ... You simply haven't learned it YET."