"Move your feet," Diana Hanson ordered as she walked from the garage, where the clothes dryer was, to the living room with an armful of clothing. Fourteen year old Zac, who was laying stretched out on the couch, opened one eye before slowly moving into a sitting position, leaving one end of the couch free. His mother dumped the pile of clean laundry beside him and began folding automatically while she watched her son.

She didn't know what had happened, but about three months ago, almost to the day, he had suddenly changed. He had gone from being a perpetually impatient, hyper, stubborn, temperamental, fun-loving, always on-the-go kid to being a more quiet, silently confident, opinionated, patient, lounging young man who, although still stubborner than a mule, had curbed his unpredictable temper very much. He did what he was supposed to do before she even asked, and he hardly ever complained about doing any form of work anymore. He had suddenly acquired the ability to handle even the largest problems with ease, yet he seemed lonely for some reason. He basically seemed to have grown up about four years in a split second. His older brothers had undergone the same sort of changes, and she didn't know what had caused it, but it didn't seem to be any sort of bad experience.

Zac looked over at her and smiled. That was something that hadn't changed. His smile. It was still impishly charming, and he still smiled just as much as he used to, if not more.

"Where'd you get this shirt?" Diana asked in confusion as she held up a large, white t-shirt with the words 'Proud Crewmember of the UD1' splashed across it in bold, Webster print. Zac took it from her and shrugged before folding it and placing it on his stack of clothing.

"I dunno. I don't think its mine."

Diana nodded in understanding and continued folding clothes as Zac grabbed another shirt and folded along with her. "What's the UD1?" she wondered off-hand.

"I think it’s a video game," came Zac's vague and half-hearted answer. The front door was jerked open moments later, and Taylor walked in, pulling his headphones off his ears.

"Hey," he greeted simply, tossing his CD player on the end table before heading for the kitchen.

"Hey!" Diana called after him. "Put that up, and come get your clothes! I want this place cleaned up a little before dinner!"

"Okay!" Taylor called back vaguely, as if he hadn't really heard her.

"Why?" Zac asked, not knowing that anything was going on that evening. Taylor wandered back into the room and leaned against the wall, listening as he popped another cracker into his mouth.

"Because, we're having company tomorrow night at dinner, and we have to start cleaning up. Some friend of your father's," Diana explained vaguely. Taylor's face immediately paled.

"Please tell me that whoever it may be is single and has no children. Please, please, please tell me that!" Zac was nodding in agreement and giving her a pleading puppy-dog look with his brown eyes that had worked all too well when he was younger to get what he wanted.

Diana laughed and nodded. "Don't worry, he's never been married, probably never will be. No children, no nieces or nephews, no kids of any sort," she assured him, knowing that he was remembering a horrific dinner when a friend of the family had brought her family over. Traumatic experience. Like some unoriginal fan fic story off the internet, 'cept this one ending the night with Taylor and Zac hiding away in some closet somewhere. *I'm not bashing those fan fic stories, relax!*

"He's on leave from some branch of the military or something, I'm not sure which, since even Walker didn't know. He's real vague about that. But he's coming for dinner, and you all, along with this house, will be nice and presentable," she continued as she folded the last article of clothing and tossed it onto the correct stack. She snatched Taylor's CD player and headphones off the end table and tossed them to him before motioning both boys to the pile of clothing.

Isaac, who had been listening in on the conversation from the stairs, finally completed his journey into the living room and, since he now insisted on doing his own laundry, a new development within the last three months that Diana was aware of, he simply moved out of the way of his brothers as they headed towards the stairs and then wandered off in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hey! Don't go eating anything too much! Dinner will be in an hour!" Diana yelled after him, wondering how on earth she was going to survive all of her children going through the teenage years.

"…Sometimes I stare at the bed knowing that no one's there. Something is telling me that you feel the way I do. I dream of you all the time wishing that you were mine. I'm feeling so empty hoping you think of me, I need you in my life…" ***Song credits go to 112***

The tune was haunting, and the way that Zac sang it sent chills up and down Diana's spine. It heightened her reason even more every time he sang it for believing that he was lonely. He sounded so forlorn and lost, as if he had lost the one person who was most important in his life.

"…If I'm all alone and you're all alone, ain't nothing wrong having someone to hold. Ooo, your tender touch it means so much, it feels so right havin' someone to hold. Its very plain to see I want you next to me. Gimme your hand and I'll try to understand. Girl I love you so, I can't let you go. There ain't nothing wrong havin' someone to hold…" ***Once again, song credits go to 112***

There, Taylor had joined in as well as she knew that he would. Diana stared in the direction of the stairs for a moment before dropping down onto the couch, her head resting against the backrest as she stared up into the ceiling. She loved their singing, don't get her wrong on that, but she wished that they'd stop singing that song. The first time she had heard Zac singing it, she hadn't thought much of it. But now they sang it a lot, and it wasn't even their own song. Their mood just seemed to fit it, though she didn't know why. The song was pretty, but it had an underlying meaning that Diana couldn't even begin to understand. The whole song, the slow, flowing tone that haunted her, the meaningful words, and the way that they sang it just made her want to break down and cry, though she had no reason to. It was just one of those songs.

Isaac walked back through and took one look at his mother before stopping. "What's wrong?"

"Where'd they learn that song?" she wondered, looking at him hopefully.

"Um, I'm not sure…" Isaac replied, trailing off and looking away.

"When'd they learn it? Its relatively new," Diana commented.

"Uh, they learned it awhile ahead," Isaac said before heading once more to the stairs.

"Ago, you mean," Diana called after him. Isaac stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her.

"No, no, I didn't. I meant ahead," came his soft answer before he continued on up the stairs. Diana creased her forehead in confusion and thought for a moment before giving up. All three of them had been talking like that for awhile, and, although she didn't get it, she wasn't going to ask. Whenever she asked, they clamed up and gave a vague answer, if they gave one at all.

That night, after the usual Thursday night family dinner thing, Taylor sat in the large, comfortable armchair, staring straight ahead at his shrink. About a month ago, his mom had gotten so worried about his and Zac's change in behavior that, even though they weren't changed in a bad way and it didn't seem like anything bad had happened to them, she had set up appointments with a Dr. Julie Anderson. Taylor hated her. So he just didn't answer.

It was the beginning of the session, and nothing had been said yet. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was not looking forward to this session.

"Taylor," she began slowly. "You know, we've been having these appointments for nearly a month, and you haven't been very cooperative."

Taylor stared at her for a moment. "Depends on your definition of cooperative," he finally said, just as slowly as she did.

"Taylor, you know what I mean. You don't answer my questions, you rarely even speak during these sessions. Why is that?"

Taylor smiled to himself, knowing the tactic she was using. Asking him simple questions that are, for the most part, about a completely different topic. Then, slowly, she moves on to the main topic, and, pretty soon, he's pouring his heart out about everything. Hell nah, he didn't play that game. Never had, never will.

After a moment of her staring at him patiently, and him staring back in boredom, he finally spoke. "Do you actually expect an answer?" he asked in a real smart ass tone.

"Yes, Taylor, I do. And so does your mother, who's paying one hundred and seventy dollars a session. She's worried, Taylor, and, frankly, so am I," Dr. Anderson said, pulling those annoying glasses off of her nose and, folding them gently, set them on the table.

"Its her damn money, not mine. I didn't tell her to get these sessions," Taylor stated matter-of-factly. Dr. Anderson watched him a moment, as if she expected him to go on. No such luck.

"Taylor, you obviously have a lot of bottled up emotions, and you need to get them out, or its going to continue to hurt you," she finally said, her whole face the perfect picture of concern. Taylor snorted sarcastically.

"So basically you're saying that I'm like every other psycho and mentally-unstable fuck out there?"

Dr. Anderson's eyes widened momentarily before answering. "No. No, Taylor, I am not saying that. You're saying that. Why are you saying that?"

Taylor let out a laugh and looked up at the ceiling momentarily. "God, I can't believe this."

"Taylor, can I ask you a straightforward question?" she asked, leaning forward on her desk. Taylor looked at her a moment.

"Sure," he said. "Just don't expect me to answer."

Silence for a moment, and then she began. "Why won't you answer any of my questions when I try to get to the problem of your problem?"

Taylor decided to grace her with an answer. "Because, you're prying. I don't like it when people pry."

Dr. Anderson nodded and thought on that a moment. "Okay, that's a start I guess…look, I think that I want to put you on some medication-"

"Oh, fuck no! I don't need any medication! What the hell do you think I am? Some thirty-five year old woman who can't hold a man, yet has four kids and is living off welfare? Just in case you didn't know, I'm not, and, in that case, you really need to get your eyes and hearing checked or something. You are not putting me on anything. I am perfectly fine mentally, so-"

"Taylor, I believe you. I think that you have a very sound mind, okay? I don't think you have any mental problems, so relax." She interrupted him calmly, holding her hands out in front of her as if to say 'I come in peace'.

"Then what the hell do you want to put me on medication for?" he demanded.

"Because, I think you have some emotional problems," she stated simply and quietly as she began writing out a prescription.

"What the hell do you even know about me?" Taylor asked, more calmly, after a moment's thought and watching her pen scratch across the paper. "And not what the media knows. What do you know about me?"

Dr. Anderson looked up and watched him for a second. "Enough, Taylor, enough."

"No," Taylor said. "No, answer my question."

"Answer mine," she shot back. Taylor narrowed his eyes and thought a second, then relaxed back in the chair.

"All right, I'll make you a deal. You answer one of my questions, and I'll answer one of yours."

She nodded. "Go ahead."

"What do you actually know about me?" he reiterated, stretching his legs out in front of him and watching her calmly.

She thought a moment before beginning. "I know that you a very troubled teenager who is going through a rough period in life. I know that you need help, but you don't want any. I know that something happened three months ago to you and your brothers, but neither you or Zac will talk about it. I know that there are problems that you have, and that you really want to talk about, but you feel afraid to."

Taylor shook his head, but didn't say anything for a minute. "Uh huh, okay. I guess its your turn."

"Why won't you talk about it?" she asked, leaning forward on her desk and watching him with careful eyes. He stared back, silent, for a moment or two.

"Because," he finally began. "Its none of your damned business, or anybody else's, for that matter."

"Then why-"

"Stop. You had your question," Taylor interrupted. "My turn."

"Go ahead."

"We are you so sure that I'm afraid to talk about it?"

"Because, Taylor, its part of our human nature to shy away from things that hurt us. We're afraid of those things. So we suppress them and try to forget them, even while they swell and fester within us. That's why I'm so sure that you don't talk about it because you're afraid of it," Dr. Anderson answered, sounding real psychiatrist-like. Taylor laughed but waited patiently.

"Your turn."

"Why do you say that what happened is none of our business?" she wondered, watching him with unwavering attention.

"Because, Julie-"

"Don't call me Julie."

"Whatever. Because, oh-dear-shrink-of-mine, it happened to me, not you. Therefore, its none of your business," Taylor explained slowly as if he were talking to a four year old.

"So you're admitting that something did happen?" she asked before he could even open his mouth to ask his own question. He looked at her like she was crazy.

"You all seemed so sure that something happened, and you were just guessing! Oh man, now that's ironic," he exclaimed, laughing bitterly and settling back in his chair.

"Taylor, it was almost a fact. We did know that something happened. But don't you see, it’s a step that now you're admitting it," Dr. Anderson explained gently. Taylor rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Now, tell me, why do you seem to think that whatever happened to me hurt me?" he asked, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, and watching her with an intense stare.

"Well, for starters, if whatever happened hadn't hurt you, you wouldn't be afraid to talk about it…you wouldn't be here. If it hadn't hurt you, you wouldn't have changed so suddenly."

Taylor thought a moment, staring at the floor. When he looked back up, his eyes weren't quite as cold. "What if…what if something happened to you that was so great, so wonderful, so sacred to you that it erased any bad things that had EVER happened in your life? Do you believe that something like that can happen?"

Dr. Anderson glanced at the picture of her two year daughter that rested on her desk, then, almost guiltily, down at her left hand that held no ring. Finally, glancing once more at the picture, she nodded. "Yes, yes I do believe that something like what you just described can happen."

"Have you ever had anything like that happen?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"The birth of my daughter, Indiana."

Taylor nodded. "And what did you do when she was born?"

Dr. Anderson smiled. "I thanked God, then I told my family and friends…everyone I possibly could."

"But what if it was something deeper than that…something more important and sacred and wonderful. Do you think anything like that can happen?"

"Unless it’s a personal experience of meeting God, then…no," Dr. Anderson answered truthfully. Taylor smiled and shook his head.

"You're wrong, Julie."

She didn't even chide him for calling her Julie as she thought on that. "What do you mean, Taylor?"

"You're wrong. There is something better. You mentioned a personal experience of seeing God face to face, and yet people claim to do that, and they still tell everyone they can, because of the wonder and sacredness in that. But what if there's something even more wonderful than that, something that happens to you and only you, and it changes you so completely for the better. Do you believe that something like that can happen?"

"It could be possible, but very improbable."

"Now take it a step further. Its so wonderful and sacred and life-changing that you don't want to tell anyone, because its that sacred to you. Its just for you and no one else. You don't want anyone else to know because you know that it will ruin the meaning. Do you think something like that can happen?"

"No, I honestly don't."

Taylor thought a minute, then continued. "Well, can you imagine it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then imagine it. Now, keep going. That experience that happened to you, you're suddenly pulled away from the source of that experience and left with nothing but memories. It hurts, yes, but there's hope, because you know that the source of that experience is still out there, nearby, just waiting for you to find it. You still keep it to yourself, because its special to you, but all the while you're searching, hoping that you'll stumble upon it soon, but knowing in your heart that sometime, before you leave this world, you'll have it back."

Taylor stopped and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the effort of explaining that to her had worn him out. Dr. Anderson watched him a moment, deep in thought.

"Has something like that happened to you?" she finally asked once he had opened his eyes again.

"I couldn't explain it if it hadn't."

"Want to tell me what it was?"

"No. Its none of your business, and, like I said before, it'd ruin the whole meaning if I told you."

"But you just explained it to me-"

Taylor shook his head. "No, I didn't, not really. You don't know the half of it. You don't know what exactly happened. You don't know anything about it. Nothing's ruined. And, to top it off, you don't know what all happened, I just described an experience like one that I experienced in my ring of experiences during what I experienced as a whole. And, as an added bonus, I just wasted ten minutes telling you this shit and explaining this stuff to you, and you're not one step closer to the root of my 'problem' then you were one month ago, because I was so vague and imaginative that you couldn't possibly imagine it. So, basically, you're still screwed." Then, after a moment's thought, he made one last comment. "You know, I'd make a good psychiatrist."