As dusk was just settling over and Sam deep in thought, as well as deep in the past, somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the sliding door open and close as someone joined him. Looking to his left, he smiled as Shelly took a seat next to him and gave him a smile. “How you holding up?”

He shook his head slightly. “If I’m being honest…I’m falling apart. But that’s not a luxury that I can afford.” Taking a deep breath he continued, “My problem is, I don’t know how much longer I can hang on, Shelly.”

“No one would blame you for being emotional about emotionally charged events, Sam,” Shelly told him gently. “It’s understandable.”

“I feel like there’s more distance between us now than there was before I found Sammy that day. When we met up again, it was just a matter of getting to know each other again, you know? Understand the demons we each carried and figuring out how to move around and defeat them. Which, we’ve done a pretty good job of, I think. Until all this. And now…” He shrugged, not knowing how to articulate what he was trying to say further.

“That day at the hospital…when I came back inside without you…Sy was distraught. You have to know that he loves you, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “I know he loves me. I know he’s always loved me, Shelly. That’s not what’s in question.”

“Then what is the question?”

The cool evenness to her tone, the patient way she was leading him made him feel like she already knew the answer to this question and likely any others. But that the point was more to get him to speak them out loud. 

“If that’s enough. If what we had and what we’re building…if it’s enough.” He spoke quietly, facing Shelly, but not looking at her. He could feel the tightness in his chest building and the pain of his soul reverberating physically throughout his body. “What if he really does blame me for what happened?” He hated that he couldn’t control himself as he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“You need to actually sit down and talk to him about all this, Sam,” Shelly told him gently.

“We decided to…shelve it…until I don’t know when. We agreed to talk but thought we should concentrate on Sammy’s recovery.”

“And Sammy is home now, Sam. He’s alive and he’s home. Both of you are avoiding this conversation and you both need to stop. There are people around you who can stay with Sammy while you two work this out. If that’s what it takes. But one way or another, you need to talk to him.” Sam nodded, keeping his face pointed down, trying to keep her from seeing how desperate he was that she was right. That everything would be okay between them. Eventually. Nothing more was said as Shelly stood, ran her fingers gently through his hair, and returned back inside the house.

Sam sat there for some time later listening to the crickets create their unique symphony for the night. With a wish to the stars above him, he stood and made his way inside as well, sneaking quietly into his bedroom, careful not to wake up Sy and Sammy.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Sy woke up long after the sun had set, his son still cradled in his arms. Checking his watch, he saw that it was after one a.m. and after scrubbing a hand over his face, slipped out from under Sammy and padded quietly from the room.

He stopped in front of the closed bedroom door, his eyes slipping closed as he drew in a deep breath. He could feel the tension between them even through the barrier of the door. The ever elusive conversation seemed to be slipping further and further away. He wasn’t blind to the distance that had grown between them and longed for nothing more than to close it. Taking another deep breath, Sy opened and walked through the door.

As he shut it behind him, he saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to him. He didn’t seem to notice his entrance, or if he had, he didn’t acknowledge it. Sy wasn’t exactly sure which was worse. Standing there, Sy took that moment to study the other man. He took notice of the tenseness in his shoulders, the rigid way he sat with every muscle flexing under him, and the low hang of his head. 

When Sy sat down next to him, Sam’s eyes slipped closed; the only confirmation Sy had that let him know that Sam knew he was in the room. His face was long, his eyes sad and he looked as emotionally exhausted as he felt. If I don’t fix this, Sy thought, there won’t be anything left of us by the end of this. When Sam absently wiped his face, Sy noticed the tears that had begun to gather. 

“Sammy.” At the whispered word, Sam's eyes watered more and he inhaled a hitching breath.

“You know after you left…” Sam started so softly that Sy had to strain to hear it, “I stopped going by that name. I couldn’t bear it. It reminded me too much of you.”

“You’ve never said as such, but I figured,” Sy answered as he slid a bit closer to Sam, wrapping his arm around Sam’s. 

Sy could see that Sam was on the verge of asking something, so he kept quiet, allowing Sam the time to gather his words. “Do you really blame me, Sy? Do you think I did this by being in your lives?”

“Sammy…”

“Because, I’ve got to tell ya, Sy,” Sam went on as if Sy never spoke. “It’s really fucking me up. It really fucking hurts…and I don’t know where I stand with us anymore. I don’t know what I’m doing or if you even fucking want me here or with you or what. And I’m so confused.” Sam turned his head then and met Sy’s gaze, his eyes shining with internal pain that expanded outward.

“Sammy, I’m sorry,” he whispered as images of the horrors done to him at the camp at the hands of David Negal flashed through his mind. Leaning forward, Sy hid his face behind his hands and took a slow breath.

“Did you mean it?” Sam repeated, his words emphasized even as his voice was strained.

“Sammy…” 

“Just tell me if you meant it, Sy,” Sam demanded with choppy words.

“Yes.”

Dexter found Casey in the living room, having woken up to find that his husband wasn’t next to him. “Hey,” he said, sitting down next to him. “What are you doing out here? Everything alright?”

Casey shook his head. “I can’t escape that place tonight. Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

Knowing his husband as he did, Dexter didn’t reach out for him, despite how much he wanted to. In these moments, he was careful, unsure if a simple touch would send him reeling back in time. It wasn’t something that had happened in quite some time, but it had happened enough that Dexter showed extra caution. “You want to talk about it?”

It was only when Casey moved into him, wrapping his arms around Dexter’s mid-section, his head settling on his chest, that Dexter made physical contact. He dragged his fingers through Casey’s hair, calming and soothing him, as Casey began to speak. “It still hurts so much sometimes, Dex. Their hands all over me…I can still feel it as if it were happening.” Casey moved in closer to Dexter then, trying to dispel the remnants of his past. 

“I know, babe,” Dexter said as he squeezed Casey slightly. “I wish I could do something.”

“You do more than you’ll ever know. You make me feel safe. Like no one will ever hurt me again.”

“I’ll never let someone hurt you,” Dexter answered with all the conviction he possessed. “I love you, Casey.”

“I love you, too. Why did they have to hate me so much, Dex?” Casey asked, speaking of his parents. It was something that he asked often when his past haunted him.

“I wish I could answer that, my love. They’re just hateful people. Which is a reflection on them, baby, not on you.”

“Sy had it worse than all of us,” Casey said quietly. “Negal had a…special liking to Sy. He never said one way or another, but I always suspected that he was sexually abusing him. Sometimes he would take Sy…just Sy…and they’d be gone for hours…which wasn’t exactly noteworthy, because we’d all be gone for hours…but when he would come back into the cabin, he wouldn’t say a word. Wouldn’t let anyone touch him. There was once that I followed him into our room after he came back one day…”

The door opened to the cabin, sunlight pouring in through the crack like spilled water. When the door shut and his eyes had adjusted, Sy moved slowly from the front door, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, his head hanging low. Casting a quick glance at his three roommates, Sy said nothing as he made his way across the cabin, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Casey and Adrian looked at each other, Julie was curled into Adrian’s side; a permanent position for the two of them while they were in their cabin. “Should I maybe go after him?”

Adrian looked to the closed door Sy had vanished behind and nodded. “This has been going on for weeks now. He never comes and gets any of the rest of us alone like that. It’s always in pairs when he comes and gets us. And then suddenly he starts taking Sy, alone, several times a week. Something nefarious is going on.”

Casey nodded and stood. When he came inside their stateroom, Casey found Sy sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, quietly sobbing into his fingers. “Sy?” Casey sat next to him, careful not to touch him. The first time Sy had come back in a similar state, Casey touched his shoulder as a sign of support and comfort, however Sy dissolved into a fit of hysterics.

“I can’t take much more of this, Casey,” he told him tearfully, not meeting his eyes. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Casey sat up, not breaking physical contact with Dexter completely, and looked tearfully at his husband. “I couldn’t help him,” he said. “All I could do was hold him when he finally let me touch him.”

Dexter smiled sadly. “I’m sure you did more for him than you realize, Casey.” 

Casey nodded. “I hope so.” Sniffling, he wiped his eyes before leaning his forehead on Dexter’s shoulder. “I’ll never be able to completely escape that place, will I?”

Dexter sighed as he wrapped his arms around the man he loved. “I wish I could say that you would. I hope that one day you can. That you both can. But even if you can’t, I’ll be right here to hold you through the tears.”

“I love you, Dex,” Casey told him in a voice hardly above a whisper.

“I love you, too, my sweet.”

Sam exhaled a shaky breath on a painful laugh and nodded. Closing his eyes, he couldn’t stop the flow of tears that leaked from his closed eyelids. “Sammy, let me explain,” Sy told him with a desperate pleading.

“What is there to explain, Sy? ‘Yes’ is a rather clear answer to my question.” He didn’t raise his voice as he spoke. There was no anger present in his words. There was just that sad tone that had been so prevalent within those first several years of their separation. 

“No, it isn’t,” Sy told him as he wiped his face, his frustration at his own inability to properly articulate what he was trying to say, as well as his inability to defeat the demon laughing in his head, gaining. Sy felt his heart shatter as when he reached for Sam, Sam stood and moved away from him. Glancing up at him Sy whispered, begging, “Sammy…please…” Before that moment, in all their lives, Sy had never felt rejected by Sam; until now. The pain blooming within his chest felt like a shrapnel bomb exploding. It was a pain that he had never felt before that moment and hoped to never feel again after this moment.

“How can you blame me for this?”

“When I said it…I meant it…but not in the way it sounded.” Sy paused, frustrated at himself and this situation, trying to gather the correct way to explain what he was trying to say.

“Not how it sounded?” Sam smiled painfully, his eyes fixated on the floor at his sock covered feet. “Because it sounded to me like that fucking place got into your head. And I can’t necessarily fault you for that. But you fucking ripped my heart out and handed it to me. What you said hurt me more than I can ever tell you.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, Sammy. It’s not an excuse, but I was terrified I was going to lose him. And all I heard in my head was him telling me that this was my punishment. And then his hands…I felt his hands all over me…and I just…I lost it. I lashed out at you and said horrible things when all I wanted was for you to take me in your arms and tell me my baby would be okay.” Sy hugged himself then and leaned forward as if great physical pain, his shoulders shaking as he began to beweep silently.

Sam heard everything Sy had said, but his mind repeated those seven words that sent bile to the back of his throat. I felt his hands all over me. Frowning, Sam said, “You felt his hands on you? You said he didn’t do that to you.” The statement wasn’t delivered in an accusatory way, but filled instead with confusion and a deep sadness. 

Sam watched as Sy’s shoulders began to shake harder as he lamentation grew. “I couldn’t tell you,” Sy told him in a broken and choppy voice. “I couldn’t say it.” When finally Sy looked back up, his eyes meeting Sam’s for the first time since he stood from the bed, within them Sam saw a pain so great that he had to look away, unable to face that anguish right then. “I really did ruin us, didn’t I, Sammy? You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”

When Sam said nothing to contradict Sy’s words, Sy looked away again as his face crumpled as tears began to fall harder in earnest. Sam stood silently for a moment more before pushing off the wall he’d been leaning on and resuming his seat next to the broken man beside him. “I love you, Sy,” Sam whispered as he willed himself to hold it together. 

At his words, Sy’s wails once again overwhelmed him. “Don’t leave me, Sammy. Please, don’t leave me.” Unable to hold back, Sy buried himself into Sam’s chest, his arms reaching around his ribs to clutch at Sam’s back. Sam’s arms wound around Sy’s trembling body, his cheek resting against the back of Sy’s head, his mouth close to his ear.

As his eyes slipped closed, he couldn’t stop the tears that slowly trekked down his reddened cheeks. “I don’t want to leave either of you,” Sam answered through a broken whisper as he tightened his grip, his soul inundated with such sharp pain at that prospect it took his breath away. “But I can’t be where I’m not wanted, Sy. And what you said that day made me feel just that. And I don’t know what to do. Or how to recover from it.”