Silence reigned between mother and son. Finally Thomas broke it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you and Dad -- you wanted nothing to do with me after you pressed charges."

Heather sat down across from him, but didn't speak. He didn't like that.

"If you seriously have nothing to say to me, I'm going back to my cell." he told her. "Tell Blaine --"

"I'm not telling your son anything." said Heather. "Nobody can. He's a mess, Tom. His boyfriend is away at school, Cooper's back in L.A. and won't be here until Christmas, and he's going to have to testify at Jenna's trial --"

"I'm missing the point of the conversation, here Mom."

"I'm going to take him here tomorrow. I want you to talk to him."

Thomas stared at her incredulously.

That had been the last thing he'd expected her to say.

---

Look you're not off the hook for running out on Doctor Collins --

"Oh shut up, Cooper -- you're just pissed that I ran out on the 'hot doctor'." Blaine flipped through his Physics book until he found the page that contained the homework questions he was looking for. "What is she, like a year older than you?"

This isn't about me! This is about the fact that you're not coping --

"Don't you dare start trying to understand how I'm dealing with everything," the younger sibling snarled suddenly. "I can remember the two month silent treatment you gave me when Grandma and Grandpa put you in therapy!"

He got up from his desk and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

That was different.

"Yeah? How?!" Blaine was shouting now, and he didn't care. "Cooper I never wanted to talk to her! I wanted you, and all I get is a shitty voicemail telling me to call you after a therapy session that was not supposed to happen! If you're gonna just go back to telling me what I'm doing wrong go for it, but don't expect me to become a loving little brother when you're home for Christmas. If you don't care, why should I?!"

Before Cooper could say anything more, he hit the end button on his cell phone.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt his phone pried gently from his hand, and felt his grandfather pull him into a sitting position.

The teen wrapped his arms around Colin, his body shaking with sobs. Colin hugged him back, trying to be as comforting as he possibly could.

---

Sebastian was reading when his mother, Katrina Smythe, walked into his bedroom.

Dammit. he'd hoped she'd stay clear of his room...at least for a while.

"You didn't finish vacuuming downstairs." was all she said.

He raised an eyebrow. So tonight, unfinished chores was going to be her excuse?

Well okay then. He closed his eyes -- he didn't want to see her actually start hitting him. It always seemed to be worse when he saw her coming at him.

The book fell from Sebastian's hands as he was pulled (more like yanked) off of his bed. Pain lanced through the back of his head, but he supposed the dark carpetting of his room had cushioned most of the blow.

It also hid the occasional blood that usually stemmed from her giving him a bloody lip or nose.

He tried not to scream. She hated it when he did.

When she finally started hitting him, his eyes fell on the picture of Blaine he still had as his cell phone wall paper.

Call him...call anyone...get help.Normally he would ignore his thoughts during a beating -- basically turn off his brain so he couldn't think about it.

But he decided to listen this time.

He just wasn't expecting his mother to take things to a whole new level by stepping on his hand -- hard.

The scream that left his lips as he felt his wrist break seemed to echo off the walls of his bedroom.

Sebastian waited until Katrina left the room before crawling to his cell phone and picking it up with his good hand.

Hello?

He frowned. That wasn't Blaine...oh wait...it was his grandfather.

Wait...what?

"M-Mr. Anderson?" he said quietly, trying to ignore the fact that his hand hurt like hell, and the fact that it had reduced him to tears. "This is Sebastian Smythe. I -- I guess Blaine is asleep, but I d-didn't know who else to call --"

Kid, you have ten seconds to spit out what it is you want before I hang up. Mr. Anderson sounded exhausted. Had Sebastian woken him up?

"I -- I need someone to t-take me to the Emergency Room," he said, wincing. "and I can't -- I can't ask my parents."

Silence on the other end of the line.

Why?

"My wrist -- it's broken."

More silence, and then,

Give me your address. I'll be there as soon as I can.