When the other end of the line picked up, a deep voice sounded through the receiver.  It made Layne freeze up.  He quickly slid out onto the back porch to light a cigarette.

"Uhhh...hello?  Anyone there?" The voice continued.

Layne flicked a lighter on his cigarette, running a shaky hand through his dirty blonde curls.  He gulped back his nerves and forced himself to speak.

"Phil...?" He asked.  "Is this...um...is this Phil Staley?"  A cringe stretched along his face at the way he was stumbling over his words.  He felt like a moron.

"Yes, this is Phil.  Who—"

"Dad?!" Layne exclaimed.  His heart fluttered in his chest.  He tried his best to calm down.  "Holy fuck, dad, you're still living in that duplex...?"

His mind wandered back to around 1999.  He was pretty sick back then, about as bad as he was when Mike saved him in 2002.  The place his dad was staying at was pretty small.  It only had two bedrooms but Phil seemed pleased that it had a washer and dryer.  Back then he was always stopping by just to check on Phil to make sure he was staying off the hard stuff—plus Layne wanted to try his best to convince the man that he wasn't as bad off as everyone else made him out to be...

...it never worked...

"Layne?!" Phil's voice seemed to brighten up.  "Oh my gosh, how are you doing kiddo?!"

Layne couldn't help but to laugh. He's about to turn 36 years old, yet his old man still calls him that. "I'm doing alright."

"Just alright?!" Phil asked, laughing lightly afterwards. It was amusing considering that Layne had the exact same kind of nervous laugh. "Jerry told me that you've been doin great! Finally off that crap, huh?"

He took a long drag from his smoke. "Yeah...been clean for a year now." He raised a curious brow. "How's your sobriety going?"

It was awkwardly quiet for a few seconds too long. "Are you still out in Seattle?"

Layne's small smirk faltered. His dad was still getting high... "Nope... I finally found a good woman and moved out of state."

He fidgeted a little with the butt of his cigarette. A tear rolled down his face. It broke his heart knowing that his dad was still suffering. The man had been battling this disease for far too long. It's almost shocking that he's still alive...

"Oh wow, out of state? I hope not too far... I wouldn't mind coming out to see you sometime. It's been a really long time... I've missed you..."

It's been a long time because in 2001, they both got into a huge argument. Phil wanted him to hook him up with a bag. Layne was refusing because his dad had been clean for so long—he didn't want to take part in his relapse. Of course, like a lot of the time when they had gotten into arguments like this, Phil accused Layne of judging him. Phil went on and on about how he knew his mother always was judging him, and that his mother was the main reason why he didn't come and visit them. It didn't take long until Phil threatened to not have a relationship with Layne ever again, to which Layne finally gave up and got high with him.

After that, Layne wouldn't answer his door when his dad would try to come and visit. It was at this time when he wouldn't answer the door for really anyone...

"You still there, kiddo?" Phil sounded through the phone, snapping Layne out of his thoughts.

Layne shook his head out of it. "Yeah, yeah I'm here," he spat out. "Sorry about that, got distracted..." that infamous nervous laugh wheezed out from him.

"So, where are ya guys livin at? Are you married?"

"We're out in Colorado." Layne flinched when he heard his father mutter a curse word on the other line.

"Damn, that's a far drive!"

Another nervous laugh escaped him. "Yeah, you're better off just flying..." Layne stopped himself. He turned to the window to see that Briana was looking out at him, a worried look glowing on her face. "I'm sorry to cut this short, dad, but I gotta go..."

"Oh, okay..." he sounded disappointed. "Well, don't ever hesitate to give me a ring! I miss you..."

"Miss you too..." Layne muttered. He ended the call and put out his cigarette before coming back inside of the house.

Briana followed him over to the phone's receiver. "Did you just talk to your dad?"

He nodded his head. He gave her a sad look. She was about to try to comfort him until he slipped in front of the doorway of the home to put on his black leather jacket.

"Ummm... Where are you going?" She prodded.

Layne grabbed the keys to his motorcycle. He opened up the closet so he could get his helmet and goggles. "I'm going over to the clinic to see Mike."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she warned. She chewed on her lip when Layne shot her another look of determination. "You're probably just going to waste gas.  He doesn't want to see you..."

A forced grin stretched across his face. "Oh, trust me, he will when I call and tell him what we need to talk about."

Briana's eyes grew wide. "Are you telling him I'm pregnant?!" She called out. Layne was walking out the door with his goggles and helmet already on.

He didn't respond. He told her simply not to worry about it. And sped down the driveway...