FIC: SINS OF THE FATHER 11/15

[carolinablu85]

Title: Sins of the Father
Chapter: 11/15
Author: carolinablu85, also known as CarolinaBlue on vh.net or CarolinaBlu on the wiki (I know, I'm a fountain of creative names)
Pairing: Luke/Noah 
Rating: PG 13-ish , mentions of abuse and non-con moments (not graphic)
Spoilers: set in spring 2009, after Luke and Noah battle housing discrimination but before Damian/evil twins. Thus, before the Colonel came back from the dead last year
Summary: Things get tense in the Snyder household, Noah has his first session with Marcus and bonds with someone unexpected.
Disclaimer: I disclaim. I own a pair of sneakers, a cellphone, and some other stuff. The show? Nope, not that.
Author's Note: The first major 'epic' story I ever wrote (and finished)!
Chapter 1  /  Chapter 2  /  Chapter 3  /  Chapter 4  /  Chapter 5  /  Chapter 6  /  Chapter 7  /  Chapter 8  /  Chapter 9  /  Chapter 10


The next day Emma kept a careful eye on the boys, Holden’s words ringing in her head. Was it right to be worried about them being too attached to each other right now? She knew that Noah had ended up in Luke’s room last night, and she almost felt guilty for not caring. If any of her own children knew that… oh, she’d catch an earful. But at the moment, if Noah needed Luke nearby so that he could sleep, she wouldn’t dare object.

The poor boy needed a lot of care right now, and not just from Luke. Noah had always been too thin for her liking and never seemed to eat enough of her food (like he had grown up eating rations, she shuddered), but now he was skin and bones, like a newborn foal. He needed fattening up, and Emma was just the woman to do it!

She was cooking up a storm right now. She left the meat dishes up to Janet- she’d never hear the end of it if the woman didn’t get to make her meatballs!- and concentrated instead on the carbs and starches. Mashed sweet potatoes, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, and of course her oatmeal raisin cookies. Enough food to last her entire brood a few lunches and dinners.

Emma looked up from stirring the pot of gravy when Jack entered, sniffing the air appreciatively. “Smells like Thanksgiving!” he called out before coming closer and peering into the pots and pans scattered around the stove.

“That would be the stuffing,” she explained, playfully smacking at his hand with her wooden spoon when he reached for a cookie. “And those are for Noah.”

He smiled. “Of course they are. Where are the boys?”

“Holden dragged Luke out to help him with the horses. Noah was upstairs taking a nap last time I checked on him.” Emma went back to stirring. Maybe she would take some soup up to him later. First she’d have to make some, though. The name Campbell’s was blasphemous in her kitchen.

Jack nodded, whisking the tin of cookies off the counter before Emma could stop him. “I’ll take these up to him then,” he offered impishly.

“Jack Snyder, if they get eaten by someone other than that boy…” she warned. Jack raised his eyebrows in his best who-me?-face as he moved to the stairs. Just as he reached the bottom step, he grabbed a cookie and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, grinning at her through the crumbs. She kept up her stern glare until he was out of sight, then smiled good-naturedly. Oh, this family.

Jack made his way to Noah’s room, knocking on the door and calling out his name softly before entering. No Noah. The bed was empty, didn’t even really look slept in either. No reason to worry, though. Jack was sure if Noah was sleeping comfortably anywhere, it was in Luke’s room.

But a similar investigation left him with the same result- Luke’s bed was just as empty. Jack was about to think about maybe starting to possibly worry when he noticed the note sitting on Luke’s pillow, the message written in a precise, neat scrawl.

At the pond so don’t worry. Love you.

Jack smiled a little in relief and, leaving the note where it was, made his way down the far staircase to the den and out the hardly ever used (except for today) front door of the house. He could see Luke and Holden at a distance as he crossed the yard, corralling a horse by the barn.

He found Noah sitting at the far edge of the pond, legs drawn up and arms wrapped around. His chin was resting on his knees, and in that moment Jack thought he looked younger than Parker or JJ. It gave Jack the courage to approach him, being sure to make just enough noise so he wasn’t sneaking up on Noah.

Noah lifted his head when Jack sat down next to him, eyeing the older man quizzically, maybe even a little concerned. Jack held up a hand. “Everything’s fine. I just came by to give you Emma’s latest batch of cookies. Everyone knows they’re best when eaten right out of the oven.” Noah smiled a little at that and nodded, reaching for a cookie.

Jack set the tin on the grass between them and settled down to sit next to Noah, not too close, not too far away. He gazed out at the pond, the barn and house in the distance. He could even hear Holden, Luke, and the horse- their sounds carried out faintly by the wind. All in all, it was very peaceful and Jack could understand why Noah would be here.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” he asked, not turning to look at Noah. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Noah wince and put down his nibbled-on cookie. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t really need to.

“It’s a scary thing,” Jack continued. “Going to counseling for the first time. I don’t think I slept at all the night before I had to go.” He could feel Noah’s intense gaze land on him now, but he still didn’t look away from the pond. “It’s not easy, having to talk about yourself, having to relive whatever crap put you in therapy in the first place. But you know what the worst part was for me?” He turned suddenly, capturing Noah’s eyes with his, making sure he was listening. “The worst was having to hear what the doctor thought of me. Having to be assessed. I was worried I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.”

He almost smiled at the shocked look Noah tried to hide. The young man was nodding without even realizing it. Jack tried to smile in understanding, but Noah stiffened up again, turning back to look at the pond once more. Jack couldn’t help but be impressed by how tightly Noah held himself, how well he hid behind those walls.

He sat there, waiting for the kid to ask him why he had been in therapy. Anyone else would. But not Noah, he just continued to sit there next to him, breaking up the cookie he had been holding into little pieces and tossing it bit by bit to the family of ducks nearby.

“You’re not going to ask?” he finally had to prompt. Noah shook his head decisively. “Why not?”

“Because then you’re going to want me to talk back,” he answered quietly, his voice a little rough from disuse, which saddened Jack. It wasn’t like he had ever known Noah to be a big talker, especially compared to Luke, but he had been so damn quiet since they wheeled him out of that cabin.

Then the words Noah said registered in his brain, and Jack had to laugh softly. Clever, clever boy. “I won’t do that, Noah. I promise.”

Another moment of silence before Noah actually spoke up on his own. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Jack was confused; what could Noah have possibly done that would offend him?

He watched as the young man concentrated on pulling apart another oatmeal raisin cookie. Ooh, if Emma could see him now... “You’re the one who shot him. In the cabin.”

He felt himself sit back a little, rocked by this unexpected subject getting brought up. He wasn’t even sure how Noah knew about this, whether he had overheard it at the hospital or…? He nodded. “Yeah, I was. Still not sure why you’re apologizing for it.”

Noah shrugged. “You had to shoot someone ‘cause of me.” He took another cookie out of the tin, breaking it up to toss to the ground again. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

Jack was silent, shocked, for a few seconds, watching as Noah broke the bits of oatmeal raisin into even smaller pieces so the ducklings wobbling around could eat the cookie too. Finally, he cleared his throat, ready. “First, I didn’t shoot him because of you. I shot him because he raised his weapon at me and my fellow officers with intent to kill one of us. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do it. I hope it’s the last, but with this town you never know.”

The corner of Noah’s mouth tilted up at that. Jack softened his voice. “I had to shoot him, Noah, because he would have shot me or someone else. The reason I did it had nothing to do with you, or me, or Luke, or anyone but Alan.”

Noah flinched, and Jack realized he’d never heard Noah say the guy’s name out loud. He wondered if Noah could even think the name. “I’m still sorry,” was the very quiet reply. Noah was shaking one of his hands absent-mindedly, flexing his fingers. Jack wondered if it was a nervous tic.

“Yeah,” Jack stood up, wondering just when it was that he got so old that sitting on the ground gave him a sore back. “Me too.” He picked up the tin, tossing out the rest of the crumbs over to the ducks that seemed to have adopted Noah. Get in line, birds. What was it about this kid that had families clamoring to take him in? “You hanging out here for awhile longer?”

Noah nodded, smiling a little again at the ducklings clumsily running around near his bare feet. Not smiling at Jack. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Alright. Take it easy, kid.” Jack was halfway back to the farmhouse with the empty tin when he realized he never saw Noah actually eat a single cookie.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Holden wiped the sweat from his brow, watching with more than a little pride as Luke walked the last horse back into the barn. The kid was a natural with horses, that was for sure. With everything that had been going on recently in Luke’s life Holden had been afraid to say it, but part of him would love to have his son work with him on the farm. Keep the Snyder business around after Holden was gone.

Though Natalie had recently informed him that she wanted to be a cowgirl when she grew up along with her career as a famous tap dancer (Noah had introduced her to Singing in the Rain a few weeks ago), so all hope wasn’t lost just yet…

Luke turned back to him, but he didn’t seem to be sharing in Holden’s fond musings. In fact, he had been distracted since Holden dragged him out here a couple hours ago. “Anything else, Dad?” His eyes were straying back to the farmhouse.

He tried to smile, tried to appear casual. “Got somewhere you have to be?”

Luke shrugged. “I just want to check on Noah. He didn’t eat much for lunch, and if he doesn’t take his meds with food it could-”

“Luke.” Holden’s voice was quiet, but it held that firm tone that always carried farther than it should. Almost reluctantly, Luke trailed his gaze back to his dad. That was the tone he used when he was going to say something you wouldn’t like. “We need to talk about something.”

“About Noah?” he asked a little fearfully, moving closer to Holden without even really realizing it. They both sat on the bales of hay stacked against the far wall. Luke racked his brain for every possible thing he or his boyfriend could have done to warrant the ‘Father-knows-best’ tone he was hearing now. Did Holden know about them sharing a bed last night? Did he, for some reason, disapprove?

“Yes. Well, sort of,” he amended. “I’m just… I’m worried about you.”

Luke’s eyebrows couldn’t have raised any higher. “About me? Dad, there’s no- and what does it have to do with Noah?”

Holden gathered his breath and his thoughts for a moment. Talking to Luke about subjects like this was like walking through a minefield, you just never knew what was going to cause an explosion. “I just want you to take a break for a bit. Take some time for yourself before you burn out.”

Luke’s eye brightened a little more with their hazel-tint, something they always did when he was getting defensive. Lily’s did the same thing. “You want me to take a break from Noah. Are you saying I’m spending too much time with him? Because we’re not together right here and now, thanks to you.” He stilled. The match was being struck. “Oh. That’s why you brought me out here, isn’t it? To keep me away from Noah?!”

And somehow the fuse had been lit. Holden just hoped he could stomp out the spark before it reached the actual bomb. “No, I wanted to spend some time with my son. And… I just don’t want either of you to get too dependent on each other, kiddo. It’ll only hurt both of you, hurt Noah’s recovery, in the long run.”

“I’m the only one Noah trusts right now, the only one he’s comfortable with,” Luke’s voice was deceptively calm. The spark was picking up speed, and Holden was racing to catch up. “You think I should just abandon him?”

“No, not at all,” he rushed to say. “But he’s never going to get better, trust other people, if you don’t let him. If he relies on you for everything, he won’t push himself to get better.” Too late, Holden realized he should have just run for cover before the bomb exploded.

Tick, tick, boom. “So I’m holding him back now?!” Luke was standing over Holden, hands flailing in the air a bit, before Holden even registered that Luke had gotten to his feet.

“Luke, I didn’t say that.” He fought to keep his voice steady, trying to show Luke how sincere he felt about this, about both boys. “I’m just worried about you two. And I don’t want you getting too far in over your head either. I just…”

“What? You just what?” Luke was challenging him, but Holden refused to rise to the bait.

Right now, he was just trying to put out the flames and make it out alive. Somewhere inside he started to laugh- sometimes being a parent is all about surviving. “There’s going to be a point where Noah will get better, will talk to someone besides you. I don’t want you to get upset by that. And I don’t want Noah to feel like he can’t talk to anyone else if it’ll hurt you. I don’t want either of you to end up resenting each other. This whole thing is enough of a mess as it is. I don’t want it to get worse.”

Luke was nodding at him, but in that way that wasn’t agreeing. It was the nod of ‘I’m-moving-a-body-part-so-I-don’t-reach-out-and-strangle-you-with-my-bare-hands.’ “Well, thanks so much, Dr. Phil, for that assessment. So instead of helping the love of my life who’s just gone through pretty much the worst stuff someone can go through, I should ditch him? Throw him out to sea without a life vest and hope he doesn’t drown?” He smacked his palm flat against the wood of the stable next to him. “What the hell, Dad? He needs me right now. Out of everyone, I never thought you would…” he finally stopped to take a breath, turning away from Holden for a moment, staring down the row of horses.

Holden waited a moment. “Are you done? Because I think you know none of that is true. You honestly think I want you- anyone- to abandon Noah? I know he needs us, he needs to see that there are still a lot of people who care about him.” He finally stood up, standing next to Luke, wishing his son would just look at him.

Quieter, “I’m just afraid that you not letting him out of your sight for more than an hour at a time will cause problems for the two of you later on. The last two weeks, Luke, all you’ve done is worry about Noah. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t have, or that we weren’t either. But…” he sighed, finally speaking out his real fear. “If you don’t let yourself and Noah breathe, you might end up resenting him. And he might end up resenting you. I don’t want that. You don’t want that. You need a break, to do something for yourself. Noah wasn’t the only one affected by all of this.”

Luke finally looked up at him, and for a second- just a second- Holden thought Luke was listening to what he was really saying. But then his son’s gaze narrowed, eyes flashing with more than defensiveness now. “What I don’t want… is you interfering with my life like this. Or my relationship with Noah. Trying to control it, me, like you are right now? Isn’t that what a certain Army guy did to his own son for like eighteen years?”

Holden closed his eyes so he wouldn’t actually flinch. He recalled a time a few months ago during the damn election that had gotten Luke off track in the first place. Luke and Noah had just had another fight about it, and Holden had found Noah sulking (hiding) in the barn after the argument. After several unsuccessful attempts to get him to talk, it had taken some very creative coercion involving one of the horses to get words out of his son’s boyfriend… but that was a story for another time.

They had talked, and Noah mentioned to Holden that Luke had actually quoted Colonel Mayer as justification for whatever he was doing. He’d never forget the look of near-physical pain on Noah’s face when he had tried to describe how that felt to hear. Well, now he knew. To be compared at all, even a little, to that rat bastard…

Luke knew he had gone too far with that remark, but he could never seem to stop himself when he got worked up like this. He looked at his father, half in shame and half still in indignant anger, and stalked out of the barn.

Holden let out a long, frustrated sigh, wishing there was something he could punch right now. He turned to the horse in the closest stall to him. “Don’t ever have kids,” he warned it. Eastwood snorted in response, shaking his mane, and somehow that made Holden feel like an even bigger idiot. Well, that went great…

* * * * * * * * * * * *
Luke lay on one side of his bed, turned towards the empty space he had purposefully left open next to him. He had cracked his door open just a little bit too. All ready in case Noah needed him again tonight.

After the argument with Holden, Luke had gone back to the farmhouse to check on Noah, part of him doing it out of spite. The note on his pillow had left him smiling in fondness and fighting off panic. Noah had gone off alone. Even if it was just to the pond… wasn’t that dangerous right now? What if one of those freaks escaped police custody? Or, even worse, what if Noah had a flashback or a panic attack or something, and no one was there for him?

Luke had dashed down the stairs, nearly colliding with his cousin at the door. Jack had grabbed his shoulders, stopping him, saying Noah was okay. Luke had still been a little panicked, but relaxed when he saw the tin in Jack’s hands. Of course Emma had baked Noah’s favorite- the oatmeal raisin cookies. The empty tin eased a little more of Luke’s worry; Noah had slept through breakfast and only picked at his lunch. At least he was eating the cookies.

His bedroom door was opening. Finally, he sighed internally, surprised by his own relief. He watched silently as Noah eased his way into the room tentatively, shutting the door behind him. He took a few more steps to the bed before hesitating.

Luke lifted his head, pulling back the comforter. “It’s okay. Come here,” he whispered, smiling a little to put his boyfriend at ease. Without another word Noah slid under the covers, curling up next to Luke. His head ended up resting in the crook of Luke’s arm, his own arms wrapped around himself protectively. Luke frowned at the way he was shaking. That meant another bad dream. “It’s okay,” he said again. “I’m here.”

Noah nodded with his eyes closed, trying to stop his own trembling. Slowly, slowly, his arms relaxed and fell away. And just like last night, he reached out and held onto the front of Luke’s shirt, as though he needed to prove to himself that Luke was there, tangible, real.

Luke tried to keep the smile on his face, and reached out his own hand to cup the side of Noah’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along the five o’clock shadow that he secretly loved. Noah relaxed a little more, but wasn’t falling asleep.

Luke kept quiet, watching Noah and thinking over the argument he’d had with his father. Holden was probably the smartest man Luke had ever known, but in this he was wrong. Holden knew a lot about the world, but he didn’t know Noah. Not like Luke did. Nobody knew Noah like Luke did, and a part of Luke liked it that way.

It felt good to be able to take care of someone else, to have someone who would always come to him first. As crazy-scary and horrible as the past two weeks had been, the small bright light of it was that Luke could say without a doubt that he knew Noah trusted him, loved him. Noah was letting Luke take care of him, and (sadly) Luke was the only person on Earth who’d ever had that privilege. It made Luke feel special, important. He needed that feeling right now.

But he still felt horrible about the fight. And, God, had he actually compared Holden to the Colonel?! Just thinking about it left Luke feeling sick to his stomach. He hadn’t meant it, he really hadn’t. It just slipped out somehow. Even though he knew Holden was wrong about this (he had to be wrong about this), Luke still felt like crap for how he handled it. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d make it up to his dad.

Noah’s free hand touching his startled Luke out of his thoughts. He smiled genuinely again, linking their fingers together very slowly and deliberately. “Feel better?” he asked softly, pulling their hands close to him so he could kiss the fingers. At Noah’s nod, Luke felt like sticking his tongue out at Holden in his head (at least until he remembered the Winston comment).

Okay, just because he and Noah were really attached right now, didn’t mean they always would be! He would help Noah get better and they’d both go back to normal. No reason for his dad to worry.

To prove his point to Holden and himself, Luke pulled on their hands again until Noah moved in even closer, his face almost pressed into Luke’s shoulder. Noah let him do it, sighing a little with contentment when he settled back down comfortably. Luke kissed his forehead, the side of his face next to his closed eyes, the tip of his nose.

He had a brief flash of déjà vu, sitting in Noah’s broken-down truck with Noah’s head on his shoulder and Ameera sleeping on the other side of the cab…

…Wow. Sometimes even he couldn’t believe all the crap they had gone through since meeting two years ago.

Luke studied Noah’s face, how calm he seemed, how cozy and wonderful he felt lying next to him, how much Luke missed having Noah lie next to him. He took a chance then, leaning in to press a kiss to Noah’s mouth. He hadn’t kissed Noah in two weeks, and like a man lost in the desert, he dove in to quench his thirst. Noah’s lips were soft and warm and perfect and Luke hadn’t realized until now just how much he had wanted them touching his. It was perfect.

For about two seconds. Then Noah made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a whimper and shoved himself away, nearly falling off the bed. “No no no no no,” he was mumbling over and over again, nearly oblivious to his own body’s desperate movements. He stumbled to his feet but didn’t go far. As soon as his back hit the far wall, his legs gave out and he slid to the floor, wrapping his long arms around himself. He curled up in his sitting position, making himself as small as possible. “No no no no…”

Luke was frozen in his shock for barely that amount of time. Damn it! He wanted to smack himself in the head with something very hard and give himself a concussion, preferably something made of metal so he’d get tetanus too. God, what was he thinking? “Noah,” he called out softly. He flipped on his bedside lamp, casting the room into soft light, hoping it would help. He had to make his room as unlike a basement as possible.

Frantically he threw open his window, letting the cool night air rush in. Then he turned slowly towards the figure still huddled on the other side of the room, his heart pretty much breaking when the shadow of his body crossed Noah and Noah cringed, screwing his eyes shut even tighter. “Noah,” he said again, quietly, gently.

He crouched down in front of his boyfriend, not too close (but not close enough for him). “It’s me, it’s Luke, you’re okay. You’re safe, baby. Please…” he trailed off. Please what, dumbass? Please don’t be hurt? Please don’t be freaked out because I kissed you? Please show me that I didn’t just break you?

Thankfully, Noah wasn’t mumbling anymore. He was still shaking, but less so. He was coming out of whatever flashback Luke had accidentally thrown him into. He pulled his arms away from himself, staring at them. At the small little cuts and bruises that hadn’t healed all the way yet. The ugly red lines that were still scratched onto his wrists. He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to come back to the present. To Luke. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not looking up.

“No, God no, Noah. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t… shouldn’t have…” Luke was the one almost gasping now. He took a moment, calming himself. Deep breaths, Snyder. Deep breaths. “Are- are you okay? Do you need me to do anything? Get anything? A glass of water or…?”

Noah shook his head, staring downwards, flexing the fingers on his right hand. “I’ll be okay.”

Luke prayed to every God that had ever been prayed to that that was true. “Alright.” He twitched a little then, unable to stop himself. “God, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, I-”

“It shouldn’t have,” Noah interrupted quietly. His voice, his face, was stony. Luke wondered for a second just who- or what- Noah was angry at. “It shouldn’t have.”

“Noah…”

“You kissed me. That’s the… the feeling I love most in this world, Luke. And I’ve missed it so much. But you kissed me tonight and I-I got so scared that he was… that I’m…” he trailed off, shaking his head jerkily. “I’m sorry,” he said again, choking on the words so it sounded more like a sob.

Luke was dying to touch him, but wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” He inched closer until he was sitting next to Noah, his own back against the wall. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I did, I wasn’t thinking.” They sat like that for at least a minute. Luke never realized how long a minute actually was when you were hyper-aware of every second passing. He looked over at his boyfriend, and was startled to see tears slowly trailing down his face. “Noah…”

Noah turned towards him without looking up and leaned into Luke’s open arms. He shook, trying to keep his crying inside as much as possible. Luke held him against his chest gently, unsure of where he could put his hands so he wouldn’t cause another panic attack. He settled for linking them on top of Noah’s shoulder, and Noah rested against him.

Luke blinked back tears of his own at how tense Noah still was, and then he began to wonder if Noah was letting him touch him now for Luke’s sake more than his own. He hoped that wasn’t true, but part of him wouldn’t have been surprised.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I love you,” he whispered over and over again. Just as he had when Noah had been delirious with fever. Just as he had when he had stopped Noah from shooting Alan. He wasn’t surprised that tears were running freely down his own cheeks now. When was the damn universe going to stop messing with his boyfriend?

Gradually Noah relaxed against him, and didn’t pull away. They sat there, facing the window, watching the sunrise. Both of them secretly hoping that the brand new day was going to be better than the last couple had been, and both of them even more secretly wondering if they had been kidding themselves this whole time.

* * * * * * * * * * * *
Janet looked up from shutting the oven when the screen door swung open. “Morning!” she called out as Holden entered.

“Morning,” he answered, pulling off his work gloves and jacket. “What are you making now?”

“Homemade tuna melts!” she said happily, always at her best when creating something new in the kitchen. Especially something new that she could share with other people. “Noah didn’t eat much of anything for breakfast, and I know this is his favorite sandwich, so I’m hoping he’ll be tempted for lunch…”

Holden nodded, his face clouding over for a moment at the mention of Noah. “He already gone for therapy?”

Janet sighed, tucking some stray hair back behind her ear. “Luke drove him out not too long ago. And, honestly, I don’t know which one of them looked worse.” She shook her head. “Jack should be back by lunchtime too, he said he wanted to be here for when the boys get back.”

Holden nodded absent-mindedly. “That’s good.”

Janet wanted to ask what was wrong with him, she really did, but another matter that had been stewing in her head for a few hours begged to be talked about first. “Hey, can I ask you about something?”

Holden shook himself free of his own thoughts. “Sure,” he walked over to the kitchen table, settling down with a tired sigh.

Janet came over with two glasses of lemonade, giving one to him before taking the seat next to him. “It’s about Jack.” When Holden’s expression turned confused, Janet shook her head again and tried to smile. “It’s just… I’m glad he’s helping Noah, and Luke, I really am. I’m glad he cares so much. I love both those boys to death, I understand why he…”

Holden’s eyebrows were drawn together, not seeing what Janet was trying to get at. “But?”

When Janet looked back at Holden, there was a glaze of tears in her eyes. “He cares so much about helping Noah, Holden. He’s really worried for him, I can tell.” She took a deep breath, placing her hands flat on the table, as though she were laying out all her cards. “Was Noah raped?”

Holden sat back, drawing in a breath of air sharply. Janet was nothing if not direct, he should have known that by now. The thing was, Holden had gone through a strange sort of denial since Susan had told them about Noah’s condition. He either tried not to think about it at all, burying it deep, or he forgot that not everyone knew and assumed no one wanted to talk about it. But the truth was there were only a handful of people in Oakdale who knew what had been done to Noah, and now here was one more.

The fact that he took a long time to answer seemed to deflate Janet a little bit. She sat back as well, one hand coming up to her face. “Oh God. Damn it damn it damn it-”

Holden shook his head, almost frantic in his need to say something that wasn’t so devastating. “He wasn’t. He wasn’t raped.” Now it was Janet’s turn to look confused, so Holden rushed to explain. “One of the men assaulted him, threatened him with it and probably attempted to… but he didn’t. And then at the hospital…”

“The one who almost escaped? Hurt Dallas Griffin? It was him?” Janet wasn’t sure how loud her voice was anymore. That part of her brain that controlled volume just wasn’t computing.

Holden nodded sadly. “He got into Noah’s room, tried again. If Luke hadn’t come in, he might have succeeded. Jack and I walk in, the guy has Luke by the throat. Noah somehow got Alan’s gun and almost shot him.” He looked straight into Janet’s eyes now. “But everything turned out alright- Alan’s locked up and Noah and Luke are here.”

Janet decided to find out Alan’s last name and feed it to some of her less-than-savory Italian family members. “This isn’t alright, Holden. Noah’s not eating or talking and Luke is pretty much logging and monitoring every breath Noah takes… Neither of them can sleep without the other one being in the same room!”

“And I know all this, okay? But there’s nothing we can do until the boys starting getting help themselves. Believe me. I’ve tried to talk to Luke, but we both just made a big mess of it. Now he’s barely even speaking to me,” he sighed a little, needing a change of subject. No matter what it was. “Tell me why you wanted to talk about Jack.”

Janet was trying to calm herself down, her hands now itching to get back to the stove and cook something. “No. I get it now. Why Jack’s becoming so involved in it, why he’s so worried about Noah.” She stood up abruptly and went back to her safe zone. Her happy place. The kitchen. She refused to look at Holden anymore, even though she couldn’t focus on the words written on the recipe card through her tears. “He understands.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *
“It’s not stupid, Noah…” Marcus said again, fighting to keep his voice even. Again. He bit the inside of his cheek when his patient just shook his head, avoiding eye contact at all costs. It had been like this for the last twenty minutes, since he had tried to talk to Noah about the cabin.

The first forty minutes had been fine, relatively. He and Noah had just talked, getting to know each other. Well, he had talked and asked questions and Noah had given very short answers. But that was to be expected after Noah’s ordeal, so Marcus wasn’t concerned. (Not about that, at least…) And he had learned some very interesting facts about the kid.

He had a huge fear of sharks after seeing one attack a dolphin while he was living in Hawaii, he was nearly fluent in Japanese and Spanish and could hold his own in German, his favorite Rat Pack members were Dean Martin and Lauren Bacall (Marcus was shocked that he even knew the members of the 1950’s Pack), he preferred college basketball to the NBA, and an Army major who lived next door to him when he was sixteen taught him how to hotwire cars, though Noah had yet to try on his own. He loved Luke Snyder and the entire Snyder family more than he could possibly say, and he had probably the greatest taste in films of anyone Marcus had met under the age of fifty.

“I just… I don’t know what you want me to say,” Noah said oh-so-quietly. His left hand was squeezing his right tightly, and he had pretty much worn a hole through his lower lip with his teeth. Marcus was actually surprised there wasn’t any blood.

He didn’t try to smile gently at Noah. He didn’t try to move into the boy’s eyeline. He didn’t try to push Noah or pretend he knew all the answers. “That doesn’t matter. I want to know what you want to say. We both know you should be here and you need help. Just showing up was enough a few days ago, that was the first step. You proved to me- to both of us- that you could do this.” His encouraging expression grew a little stern. “That’s not enough now. Now you have to work with me.”

Noah looked at him, startled by the doctor’s blunt reply. He found himself appreciating it, but it still didn’t mean he was ready to lie down on a couch and tell his life story or interpret his dreams about playing chess with Hitchcock or stare at inkblots. No way was it that easy. “Is talking about anything really going to change what happened? Make it better?”

Marcus did smile a little then. “Those are two different things. First of all, no. Nothing can change what happened to you. It’s horrible but true. But you can make yourself better. Not ‘you’ you, but how you react to things, how you feel about yourself. And the first step? Is talking to me about these things.”

“I can’t,” Noah mumbled, starting to glare in the older man’s direction.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he was fidgeting again.

“Not good enough,” he reminded. “Tell me why you can’t talk about it.”

“If you’re such a good therapist, you should be able to tell me,” Noah snapped, a look of shame passing over his face immediately after. But only for a second, then he resumed his defensive glare.

Marcus just kept studying him. “Wrong. If I was such a good therapist, I should be able to get you to tell me. And I am that good.” Noah’s glare intensified, and Marcus welcomed it. Anything to keep the boy fighting, keep him present instead of closed off and silent.

“And just like that? Just like that, I tell the whole damn story, and… and what? The sun shines through the clouds and birds sing and life is one big Disney movie?” A leak had started in his brain, and now Noah couldn’t stop himself from talking. It was starting to hurt his throat. “You said it yourself- nothing’s gonna change what happened. Nothing’s gonna change me.”

“Actually, I said those were two different things. But if you believe this, then why are you here?” he asked, very curious to see how Noah would answer.

The young man deflated a little, settling back in his chair a little more. “I’m just… so tired. Everything makes me tired.” It felt like he was trying to smile, but Noah couldn’t be sure what his face actually looked like. “And I’m worried.”

“About what?”

The next leak of words came out in an emotionless rush. “I’m going to hurt Luke or his family. I’m going to freak out again and do something stupid and they’re going to realize they shouldn’t be around me, I shouldn’t be a part of-” Noah shook his head, cutting himself off. His arms unconsciously wrapped around himself protectively.

“Let’s go back to the ‘again,’” Marcus decided to put off the rest until later. An inch at a time, he knew, was the only way they could do this. “Freak out ‘again.’ When did you freak out?”

Noah was fidgeting and biting his lip once more. “I-I don’t…” he took a very slow, very deep breath. It was the first thing that Marcus had taught him that actually seemed to break through that shell. Breathing exercises were always something Marcus relied on to get through to a patient, to show that it was possible to get out of a panicked situation, to get some semblance of control over yourself if nothing else.

Noah’s eyes were fixed determinedly on his sneakers. They were very nice sneakers, almost brand new, and Marcus wondered who had bought them for him. Because from the little he had seen of Noah, even he knew that the kid wouldn’t buy something so nice for himself. It was a luxury, and Marcus was beginning to understand just how much luxury Noah had done without in his life so far. He watched Noah’s lips move ever so slightly, repetitively. “What number are you on?” he asked quietly.

“Twenty-seven,” Noah answered almost immediately just as quietly, almost trance-like. He was counting slowly in his head until he felt he was in control again. Marcus was relieved to see the seemingly simply exercise was working. Finally, Noah answered, eyes still cast downwards. “Luke kissed me last night. It was nothing special-” he grimaced inwardly there. Poor choice of words. Every kiss from Luke was special. “It was the first real kiss since… since this. And for like a second, it was amazing.”

The look of wonder on Noah’s face actually warmed Marcus’s poor old heart. Ah, young love. Marcus missed that. He was almost dreading the outcome of this story. “And after that second?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t there anymore. I was in the basement again. And the chains were around my arms and my hands were numb and everything else hurt and he was… was…” His skin was pale and flushed at the same time. “And I don’t know what I did, but somehow I’m on the other side of the room and Luke is crying and apologizing. Because of something I did. I made him cry, and now he’s scared to touch me, to say the wrong thing… I made him scared of me.” He pressed his hands tightly against his own eyes, trying to hide from everything. Trying to tell himself to shut up. Since when did he talk so much? (Since when did anyone listen?)

“Deep breaths,” Marcus reminded gently. Noah nodded, his hands falling away and his eyes closing for a little while. When he was calmer, Marcus continued. “How much are you going to hate me when I say that it’s a normal reaction?”

“A lot,” Noah replied with barely any hesitation. He opened his eyes, the blue even brighter than usual. “It’s not normal. If it was normal, I wouldn’t be here. Is that how you normally react when someone kisses you?”

“No,” Marcus responded, waiting to see where Noah was going with this.

“Me either. So telling me it’s normal? That means nothing. Because whatever it is, it’s hurting Luke and I can’t do that anymore.”

“Why is what’s hurting Luke more important that what’s hurting you?”

“Because I’m not-” and then Noah shut down again, biting his lip and giving his sneakers another study.

“You’re not what?” Marcus prodded. But Noah just shook his head. Marcus watched him for a moment. “Do you think what happened in the cabin was somehow-”

Noah’s head shot up, and he glared once again at Marcus. “Do you know what happened to me?”

Marcus was actually thrown for a moment, it was a surprisingly intimidating glare. He wondered if Noah got it from his father. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he finally answered.

Noah shook his head out of pure frustration this time. “No. Not the Psych 101 crap. You know what actually happened.”

As always, honesty was best. “Yes. I’ve read the medical and police reports and the testimonies of the men arrested.”

The men arrested. One of whom was his own goddamn father, though nobody seemed to mention him anymore. Noah wondered briefly if he was still even in the Oakdale police station. As if it actually mattered where Winston Mayer was- he seemed to be good at causing damage no matter how far away he happened to be.

All of a sudden Noah was angry at the world. At himself for reverting back to this- he really had thought he was getting better after moving to the farm- at everything in the universe. Was there someone he could apologize to? Whatever he had done wrong to deserve all of this, he was sorry. So, so sorry.

He could feel his glare at Dr. Weston weakening. He really was so tired. “Do you know how it feels? What it was like… what it’s still like?” He thought he’d be better by now, but he was still weak. Frayed at the edges. Damaged.

Marcus had an idea of where Noah was going with this, and it disappointed him. He had a feeling the session would be ending soon, and knew he’d be spending the better part of tonight praying that there would be a second appointment. “No, Noah. I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve never been through anything like that. I dare say not many people have experienced what you have.”

Noah nodded as though Marcus had just proved an important point. “So how do you know what’s going on inside my head? How can I… how can I trust what you say?”

Trust was something Noah obviously didn’t give out very easily. Marcus was kind of surprised that a boy so purposefully closed-off and quiet seemed to mesh so well (and so often) with the conglomerate that was the Snyder family of Oakdale, Illinois. “Because it’s my job to help you, I have no sinister motive. I’m here so you can figure out a way to trust people and trust yourself. To be yourself again. Do you believe me when I say that?” He looked hard at Noah. “Do you believe that there is a way out of this?”

Noah looked at him, looked at the photographs on the wall, and then let his eyes wander up to the clock hanging the far corner. His lips curled upward, but there was no way that Marcus could ever call that pained look a smile. “Time’s up,” the young man said calmly with a nod to the clock, everything in him devoid of emotion.

This time it was Marcus that shook his head. No, no, he couldn’t let the session end this way. “Noah…” But he was too late. The door was open and shut so quickly that the doctor barely had time to register it happening. And then suddenly he was alone in his empty and quiet office, as though the last hour and a half hadn’t happened at all.

As though nothing had changed.

* * * * * * * * * * * *
He didn’t speak to Luke on the ride back. It wasn’t in an ignoring or vindictive way, he just had no energy left to talk. He tried to want to, because he knew talking was one of Luke’s favorite activities. But Noah’s head was in a fog right now from all the thoughts and emotions that his first therapy session had stirred up in him.

He had said a lot, more than he thought he would. All of that baggage was now out of his brain and out of his mouth, but now it was following him around like a personal storm cloud over his head. Or a cloud of dirt, like Pigpen. That felt appropriate. And every time Luke glanced over at him, worried and guilty, Noah hated himself just a little bit more. It wasn’t Luke’s fault his boyfriend was so messed up!

And now Noah was on his way to the pond again. He kind of hoped they’d let him stay down there during lunch, but he doubted it. It was getting harder and harder to avoid meals with everyone. He’d rather not eat than have to deal with everyone being awkward and upset because of him and his problems.

He took up the same position he had been in yesterday, in the same spot. He stared out, watching the gentle movement of the water, the swaying of the trees on the other side pond. Here, Noah felt the calmest that he’d been in a long time. He breathed in deeply, trying to inhale every possible breath of air the farm had to offer. It really was the most beautiful, peaceful place in the world. Having lived in several different countries on several different continents, Noah felt comfortable saying that.

He continued the slow and deep breaths, listening with half a brain as a handful of horses whinnied in the nearby pasture. The other half of his brain was shocked that Dr. Weston’s breathing exercises were actually working. Score one for the shrink, I guess. Noah really had no idea why he called him a shrink, when ‘doctor’ sounded more respectful. Probably because all the cool guys in movies used the term ‘shrink.’

The sound of approaching footsteps caused Noah to tense up again. He realized, ashamed, that he was kinda hoping it wasn’t Luke. He was so afraid of hurting him (more) right now, and he was starting to worry that Luke would blame himself when Noah didn’t get better immediately. Luke didn’t exactly have the patience of a saint (in fact, an untrained beagle puppy with ADD was what came to mind). Noah loved him, but he didn’t know if he could handle Luke’s disappointment when things didn’t work out the way he wanted them to, especially since-

The person settled down next to him, just like yesterday. And just like yesterday, Noah turned to see Jack sitting there, looking out at the pond. There was a plastic bag in his hand, and when he caught Noah looking at it questioningly, he tossed it over. “It’s for your friends. Probably a better meal for them than yesterday.”

Noah couldn’t have been more confused. And when he opened the bag and found a loaf of bread, he just felt stupider. What? He looked at Jack again, who grinned and nodded his head towards the pond. Sure enough, a bunch of ducks (the same ones?) were making their way closer to the bank, heading straight for him.

He couldn’t help but smile when they toddled over to him, waiting just a few feet away. A couple ducklings dared to come closer, probably remembering Emma’s cookies. He pulled out a few slices of bread and began tearing them up. After a second’s hesitation, he offered a few pieces to Jack. The man’s grin softened as he accepted the bread, and then the two of them faced the pond again, tossing bits out to the flock in front of them.

“How was therapy?” Jack finally asked, still very carefully watching the ducks. Very carefully not watching Noah. “Think you’re gonna go back?”

Noah thought about shrugging- it was his first instinct- but decided he owed it to this guy to actually answer for once, considering he had been all but silent around the man since being rescued. “I guess I have to.”

“But you don’t want to,” Jack guessed.

This time Noah couldn’t help but shrug. “I know I need help or whatever, but… I just don’t know if I can get it from him. He hasn’t been through… How can he tell me how I’m supposed to feel?”

Jack was silent, tossing away some more of the bread. “I hate to break it to you kid, but I don’t think you’re gonna find that many people on this planet who have been through what you’ve been through. It may be time to give that up as an excuse.”

“Excuse?” For some reason, Noah couldn’t get as defensive around Jack as he had with the therapist. Maybe because Jack was a Snyder…

“You have to face up to a lot, Noah. You’re going to have to admit some things to the doc and to yourself- recognize that what happened really did happen.” Jack grew more serious as Noah continued to avoid looking at him. “Why you’re feeling so messed up right now is because of your father and Alan. You have to talk about them to move past them.”

Noah couldn’t hide the flinch at the mention of that. Of them. “Why is talking about it the cure-all for moving on? Is talking going to make me feel any different?”

The older man shrugged. “Nothing else seems to be working, is it? Might as well give it a try.” He paused for a second, taking a slow breath. In the back of his brain, Noah wondered if Jack was doing a breathing exercise. “Noah. I understand what you’re saying about Dr. Weston not knowing where you’re coming from. I do. So if you do need someone to talk to who can… relate…” He looked straight at Noah’s face, even though it was still turned away from him. “You can talk to me.”

Noah swallowed heavily, the rest of his body stilling. He even dropped the bread in his hand, though it didn’t stop one very brave duckling from darting forward to grab it from his suddenly numb fingers.

It took a few more seconds before Noah could turn to look at Jack, and the look of hesitant begging on the kid’s face made Jack want to gather him up in the biggest bear hug he could. But instead he looked straight into Noah’s eyes, genuine and calm, and began to speak. “A few years ago I was married to a woman named Julia…”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Re-shouldering the heavy duffel bag, Luke entered the kitchen to the familiar smell of a home-cooked meal. He went through his normal routine of pausing in the doorway and smelling the air before stepping all the way in and letting the door shut behind him. “What’s for dinner?” he called out without even glancing around.

“Pot roast and green bean casserole,” came the answer. But it wasn’t Grandma. Luke turned slowly, watching as his dad carved up the roast on the stove. They were alone in the kitchen. Uncomfortably so.

Luke hadn’t apologized to him yet. After Noah’s panic attack last night, Luke had been too wrapped up in getting him back to sleep and then getting him to therapy to remember to talk to his dad. And then Noah had been so quiet after his appointment, and then had disappeared before Luke could talk to him…

He focused back on his dad now. He had to say something, something about their fight yesterday. “Okay. Sounds good.” What? Lame, Luke Snyder, totally lame.

“Where’ve you been?” Holden asked casually, barely blinking an eye at Luke’s current lack of verbal skills.

“Oh, um…” Luke dropped the duffel bag under one of the chairs, kicking it out of the way for the time being. “I stopped by Noah’s dorm, got some more of his stuff, some DVDs, his laptop.” Noah hadn’t even mentioned missing his movies or the latest film project he’d been working on. Of course, what was Noah talking about these days? Luke tried to push the worry away again, but he couldn’t, and that made him anxious and snappy. “Is that okay? Or is it smothering Noah too much?” Wow, he hadn’t meant to say that.

Holden barely reacted. “Probably a good idea, it’d be good to give him some familiar comforts.” Luke flushed red, but couldn’t take back the words. Even though part of him was dying to tell Holden about what had happened last night, he didn’t want to admit that Holden had probably been right about him and Noah.

So instead he kept quiet, watching his dad finish carving up the roast and set it on the kitchen table. “Noah’s still at the pond,” he told his son. “Jack’s with him, though. He’s okay.”

Luke just nodded, setting the table. “Good.” God, why couldn’t he just talk to his dad? He’d always been able to do that, no matter what. Holden was always the best at being a good listener (besides Noah), so why couldn’t he-?

“Are you okay with that? Jack and Noah talking?” Holden ventured.

“God, Dad, I’m not trying to shut Noah up in a padded room and keep him for myself!” Luke burst out. “At this point, as long as Noah is talking, to anyone, I’m happy.” Why was he getting so worked up over this? Both he and his dad wanted the same thing, they both wanted Noah healthy. So why was Luke getting so upset? Was there something wrong with him now?

Holden sighed heavily, rubbing a hand against the side of his forehead. “Luke, I didn’t mean-”

The phone ringing interrupted him, its tone sounding so much more harsh in this environment. Holden glanced at it, obviously deciding whether or not to answer it or let the machine pick it up.

Luke picked up the duffel bag again, glad for the distraction. “I’ll put this in Noah’s room. Be right back.” He hurried up the stairs without another word, kicking himself mentally with every step he took. It was like watching from outside his body, he couldn’t stop himself from getting upset. And the fact that he couldn’t control it scared him a little. He needed to get himself under control so he could be there for Noah. Noah was what was important, not some teenage angst he was having with his dad.

By the time he got back downstairs, Luke resolved to apologize to his father, tell him everything. Noah’s panic attack, his own mild freakouts, everything. He needed Holden. He came back down the stairs, an repentant look on his face. “Dad…” But then he stopped.

Holden had just hung up the phone and was staring at it as he placed it back on its cradle. His face was pale and very, very still.

“Dad?” Luke hurried forward, searching him for any clue. “What’s wrong?”

Holden cleared his throat, looked remorsefully over at his son. “Luke. That was Margo.”

He swallowed heavily. God, what now? “Yeah?”

Holden glanced around the kitchen, at the perfect picture presented at the kitchen table- the beautiful wooden table, checkered tablecloth, a home-cooked meal set on top. “She’s at the police station. It’s about Noah’s father.”

TO BE CONTINUED! Coming Up: Luke and Noah talk, Marcus helps Noah realize some things about his past, some friends show up to cheer up the Snyder farm...