{Cary}

Nightmares got their claws in good that night. In his dream the courtroom was lined with shadowy columns of trees disappearing in the darkness. Cary was blind, speechless, and pinned up between two of the trees in the dark. He could hear his father's voice: Come, my dears. And Liam chirruping a question like he didn't know if he was safe. 

And Cary couldn't. Do. Anything.

Cary jerked awake and scrambled into a crouched position, breathing deep, cold breaths of night air. The fire had died to embers, heat chasing red and gold over the underside of the last log.

Jon rolled over in his sleeping bag and sat up on one elbow. "You all right?"

Cary startled at his voice, ducking his head between his arms. He was gasping a little, and his heart was still thundering in his ears.

There was a rustle of Jon sitting up. "Sorry to scare you." The night was silent except for the ripple of water nearby and the distant sigh of traffic. Jon poked the remains of the fire with a stick, stirring up the sparks. "I haven't been sleeping too good either. Haven't heard you have a nightmare in a while."

Cary made an effort to draw in a slow breath, gripping the back of his neck and shutting his eyes. He missed this Jon, his friend's voice steadying him in the dark when he wasn't sure where he was. 

Only one way to know how far this uneasy peace would stretch. "Found out I have to testify," he said, soft and hoarse.

"Yeah?" Jon said. "So—you did that, with the police."

"In person," Cary said. "At the trial. With him there." He opened his eyes to watch how Jon would take that.

Jon stared at him with his mouth open. He snapped it shut. "Shit. Shit, Cary. How in hell do they expect you to do that? It wrecked you just being in the same room with him. You fucking...couldn't see where you were going it wrecked you so bad."

Cary pushed to his feet, walking a little ways away to stretch his arms over his head and then hug them around himself. The memory of being pinned and silenced in his dream still left him shivery and sick. "Doesn't matter. I have to figure it out," he said finally. "Or Liam goes back with him." Saying it made a shiver roll from the top of his head down his back hard enough to make his jaw clench.

Jon rubbed his hands over his face. "Wow, that sucks," he muttered. "Like he hasn't done enough damage."

Cary went to his knees, rearranging the branches Jon had been messing up. He blew gently on the embers until a yellow flame licked around the wood.

Jon glared into the fire, jiggling his legs. "Guess that's why you flipped out at the lawyer's, huh."

Cary sighed, flexing his bruised hands. "Yeah. I fucked up again."

"You're doing better," Jon said grudgingly. He was rubbing his arms like his skin was itchy. "Or you wouldn't have kept that job all summer, right?"

Cary lifted his shoulders. Working long, hard hours and keeping his shit to himself all summer seemed easy compared to having to get up at this trial and open his mouth.

Jon got up abruptly and shook his legs out. "Are bugs crawling on you? I feel like bugs are crawling on me." He brushed hard at his arms and legs. "Fuck, get off, get off!"

Cary looked sharply at him. "There's no bugs."

"There seriously are!" Jon was on his feet, twitching and jumping.

"Get away from the fire." Cary shoved to his feet, catching Jon across his chest and hauling him a safe distance from the flames. He tried to get Jon to look at him. "There's no bugs, Jon. You're clean."

Jon whimpered. "I don't feel so good. I really don't. Can we go home?"

Silently, Cary kicked dirt on the fire. He was on his knees, shoving the sleeping bag in Jon's backpack when he heard Jon being noisily sick in the bushes. He took a short breath, jerking the backpack closed and shouldering it himself.

Jon was already heading for the trail, stumbling and shoving bushes aside. Cary followed, catching up when the little deer path to the clearing joined the wider main trail.

"I feel super not-good," Jon whispered, his arms clenched over his stomach and his fingers scratching his skin.

"When did you last take opes?" Cary asked shortly.

Moonlight washed Jon's face out white as he turned to Cary. "That's not what this is," he said, high and breathy. "I have stomach flu or food poisoning or something."

"You're bugging out," Cary said flatly. "You're in withdrawal because your body got used to what you were using and you quit."

"There's no way. I was careful. There's no fucking way." Jon made a muffled noise and veered off the path, bending over to throw up again in the bushes.

Cary turned away, putting the back of his hand to his mouth. He wished he could believe Jon, but everything about the last 24 hours told him Jon was completely out of touch with what had really happened this summer. His own stomach was twisting, anticipating all the things that might come next.

"Do you have any left?" Cary asked roughly when Jon came crawling out of the bushes. He crouched down next to Jon and said the thing he knew would pry the truth out of him. "You could feel better right now if you take 'em. Do you have any on you?"

Jon shook his head back and forth, spitting weakly in the path.

"Do you have any at home? We can go get them right now."

Jon shook his head again, hunching his back and curling his fingers in the gravel like they wanted to scratch some more. Panting, he pushed on Cary's shoulder to get to his feet. "They're gone. The money's gone." He dragged his arm over his mouth and then his face lit up in pitiful hope. "You have money. We could go to my buddy's and get some."

Question answered.

Cary got stiffly to his feet. "No." His voice was flat and dry. Jon's fingers caught his wrist, grit rubbing on his skin.

"Just for tonight, just to help for tonight. Come on. Please, Cary."

Cary pulled free and headed up the path. "We're going home."

Jon hurried in his wake. "So you'll think about it? Just for tonight. I'll pay you back, I swear."

"How'd you pay before?" Cary shot at him.

Jon laughed nervously. "Um—I sold your stuff. The iPad and stuff your mom dropped off. You gave it to me, right? And the pills weren't working like they were supposed to. So I knew this guy from drama class and I got some more from him. Just like the ones the doctor gave me, you know? Just to help get through until my rib was better." 

His babble of words stopped abruptly, and Cary heard him breathing hard, rubbing his hands over his sleeves. Jesus. It was wrenching how far gone Jon was. He should have paid attention. He kept his eyes straight ahead, fixed on the top of the hill and the trees on either side. One more turn and they could pick up their bikes and get home.

"You're not going to tell my dad, are you?" Jon's voice wobbled.

Cary's fists closed—he had promised Pete no more lying.

"It'll wreck my mom. And I'll be in so much shit."

Cary whirled on him. "It'll wreck them both! Why didn't you think of that before?"

Jon swayed back at the force of Cary's words, stumbling to a halt and crossing his arms tightly over his shaking body. Stark shadows made grooves around his mouth, and he looked a hundred years old. "I think about them every fucking day." His voice was cracked. "I just wanted a break." He hugged his arms tighter around himself, his fingers twitching on his sleeves as he whispered, "Please, Care. Don't tell them."

The old name pulled on Cary, squeezing his heart until he thought it would break. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, swearing softly. "Okay." He let his hands drop, pinning Jon with his straight, black look. "I won't. But this is the end of the line. No more opes. Stay clean and there's nothing to say. The past is the past."

Jon's eyes were dark with pupil, and uncertainty wavered over his face.

"I mean it, Jon," Cary growled. "You quit. Cold. Or I tell him."

Jon drew a breath, ducking his head. "Yeah. Okay. The past is the past."