Just as I Begin to Fade

Thirty Nine. Fight or Flight

On the way home, in Lindsey's car---Stevie and himself were talking with mostly her crying and panicking about the fact that Gwen did not want to go home with her.

"I know this is hard for you, Stevie, but you really need to relax," he brought his hand to settle on her knee as he drove in the pouring rain.

"She's just so upset. I don't even know why I'm so upset---" she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," he then brought his hand further up and he placed it in the crook of her neck, trying to be of comfort while he was driving.

He himself was becoming angry at his favorite teen only because he was now witnessing her behavior.

He knew she had deep problems, stemming from her childhood due to her mother's outrageous lifestyle. Although, Stevie was wrong to keep her father's death from her, wrong to use drinking as a coping mechanism---he also felt that Gwen was maybe too angry. He only wanted her to forgive and forget, but he also understood why she wouldn't want to. Not in anyway was he trying to pick sides, he'd pick his own before either of them, however, he believed both girls were wrong and both needed to be in a room long enough so that he could explain that to them. He also just believed Gwen needed a little more time to process everything before throwing herself back into life with her mom.

When they got back to Stevie's place, he unlocked the door and allowed her in first, guiding her to sit down on the couch.

She was still raw, her heart was hearting, her eyes were puffy and she only wanted to keep crying; it really was as though she had been mourning the death of something or somebody which was a whole new feeling as she had never felt that for her own daughter.

He shut and locked the door, setting her keys on the dining room table before coming to join her.

"I want a glass of wine," she commented, looking at him.

"Are you sure you want to drink?"

"My daughter hates me. What do you think?"

He stepped forward and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

When his warm lips touched her skin, it made more tears fall from her eyes as she curled up on the couch.

He then turned and he went to the kitchen in order to serve her as she wasn't feeling well and she had already expressed that she was cold.

He only figured she was feeling under the weather from her crying day after day.

When he returned to the living room to join her, he took a seat and he draped his arm along the back of the couch.

She cradled her glass as though it were a mug of tea and she got as close to him as possible as she was trying to calm down. "God, you're so warm," she plastered her hand to his chest.

"Stevie, I'm kind of worried. You've not been feeling so well since you had that bloody nose. You're having a lot of headaches. It would make me feel better if you got checked out."

"I don't want to go anywhere or see anybody," she shook her head. "Once Gwen decides to come home, if she does, I'll feel a lot better."

"Are you sure?" he swiped the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Yes, I'm alright... Just suffering."

---

Once she was released from her cell, the police pretty much booted her from the station since she really had no reason to be there, but since she didn't have her purse, she couldn't pay for a taxi, so she walked home which was a little nerve-racking as she hardly did that at night---she always rode her motorcycle and was in and out of places.