It was seven days later, and Caleb still hadn't said a word about what happened. To say that Pogue was scared might be understating things a bit.

Everyone knew something was wrong. He had shut Sarah out completely, leading to hysterics from both girls and a great deal of time spent comforting them, which was time he wasn't spent helping Caleb. Back and forth, back and forth. In the end Kate had to push him off to Caleb, after they had gotten out of the hospital and she had been reassured that her boyfriend, at least, was not much worse for the wear. She would take care of Sarah, she'd said. He would get to take care of Caleb.

If Caleb would let himself be taken care of.

Reid, Pogue, and Tyler took turns shadowing him everywhere he went. When they weren't keeping an eye on him his mother was, finally pulling out of her shell when she realized her son was in a more insidious danger than she could protect him from. They met in Pogue's dorm room, the three boys and Kate when she could get away from Sarah, pacing up and down and trying to figure out how to help him. Pogue still wouldn't tell them in words what had happened, but they knew it was bad.

How bad, even Pogue didn't know. But he'd seen what was left. The remains of cloth and the blood and sweat and he knew the possibilities. Hadn't had it happen to himself, yet, but there were people who'd said it was only a matter of time. Of course, these were people who didn't know about power. But when it was Chase it was a level playing field, they both had power.

It frightened him to think about it. Terrified him, to think about what Caleb would be like now, how he would deal with it. And he still didn't know what to do.

The wind was cold on the Marblehead cliffs, even with the leather jacket and leather-covered jeans. He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on Caleb's back, as though if he took his eyes off him for a moment the other boy would go leaping off the cliff and he would never see him again.

The idea made him close his eyes and swallow back the sobs or screams. One of the two. Life had been so up and down. He'd fought back more upset in the past week than he'd had in the months following Chase's first attack.

Caleb still wasn't moving, either. He took a step and heard his foot crunch the ground, loud. His friend jerked.

"It's just me." He knew without looking that Caleb's eyes were black. "Hey. It's just me."

Slowly, Caleb's hands opened. "Hey."

After that he walked up and stood right next to Caleb. At least now if he jumped he could catch him before he fell. "You ready for Harvard?"

Caleb just laughed. It wasn't a kind of sound he'd ever heard from his friend before. And he never wanted to hear it again.

"I'll take that as a no."

Shrug. "Finals are going to kill me. I haven't studied at all." And from the sound of it, he didn't care.

"Isn't that my job?" Pogue quipped. It got barely a flicker of a smile. "You'll do fine, you always do. You're smarter than the three of us put together."

Another shrug. It wasn't getting him anywhere.

"Talk to me, okay? You're scaring me, Caleb, talk to me."

"Talk to you about what?" Caleb whirled on him, and his eyes were black enough that Pogue could see himself in them. "Talk about what happened? What do you want me to say? You know it was Chase, you know what happened. Man, why are you even asking me about this? Why are you even asking me about Harvard, about finals? Like it never happened..."

"That's not what I was saying." Pogue wanted to reach out and do something, tried to touch his shoulder. Caleb jerked away. "Caleb..."

"Why'd you tell Reid? Fucking... Reid... to come and talk to me, like I'm..."

Pogue was going to kill him.

"Like I need help. I don't need help. I don't need his help, or yours, or anyone's..."

"I didn't tell him." Pogue almost yelled it.

Caleb's hands opened and closed into white-knuckle fists. Pogue had to look at him very carefully to see his eyes color back. Even then the only way he knew was by the white returning, he couldn't see whether or not the fire was still there.

"I don't need your help. I can get him by myself."

He shook his head, staring at his friend. He felt as though he was going to be sick, and couldn't imagine what Caleb would be feeling like if he thought he was going to vomit. "Caleb... I don't care."

It was as if he'd slapped him.

"I'm not worried about whether or not you can get Chase by yourself, okay, I'm worried about you. I came up here tonight and I saw you standing on the cliffs and I thought you were going to fucking throw yourself over or something." It was implied that he wouldn't be catching himself on the way down.

Caleb stared. Pogue stared back. It seemed as though neither of them could quite believe it had come to this.

Pogue took a step forward and flinched when Caleb stepped back, almost automatically. It wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Caleb didn't so much burst into tears as start to crack around the edges, bits and pieces of the veneer of icy control falling away until it finally all broke with a twisting of his mouth and his eyes shutting tight. His jaws were locked tight around the screams, or sobs, or whatever they were, hands clenched, every part of himself holding tight to the stoicism he thought he had to maintain just to stay alive, now, maybe. Just to keep anyone from figuring out what was really wrong. If he couldn't even say it... The only reason Pogue knew, he was sure, was because he had been there.

He took his steps slowly towards Caleb, one foot down, then the other, until he was close enough that he could reach out and grab him and the first thing he did was drag him away from the edge, kicking and fighting. And he was kicking and fighting. Pogue didn't know what Caleb thought was happening but he hadn't opened his eyes yet and he was trying to lash out with power but the concentration simply wasn't there. In the end Pogue had to push them both away from the edge with brute force, sending them flying, landing on the hard ground, him on his back and Caleb on top of him and clutching at his friend by his jacket.

"It's okay," he said, then decided that was stupid. "Caleb, Caleb, it's me, okay? It's just me."

"Get away from me," Caleb was screaming, but it didn't sound like him. It didn't sound like he knew what he was saying. "Get away..."

"The hell I will," Pogue muttered, and held on. One arm, then the other wrapping around him, and then again. Every time Caleb tried to knock him away he let go only to grab onto him on a different part of his arm, sling his arm around his shoulders, whatever it took.

Then there was no fight left in him and it was all sobs, hoarse gasps and sobbing. Pogue held tight to him because he thought he might freak out if he didn't, and he wasn't the one who should be freaking out here. He was going to kill Chase for this, murder him slow, take weeks if he had to.

"I can't..." Caleb gasped for breath. "I can't. I can't..."

He didn't even ask what he was talking about. Just held him, until struggles became shifting and clinging tight with one hand bruising his shoulder and the other fisted in his hair. At least he had long hair to grab, he thought, and bit back the giggle. Rocked them both. Murmured words that were meaningless except to sound out the tone beneath him.

"I got you," he said. He was only halfway familiar with this. "I got you. You're okay. I'm right here, we're right here. It's not your fault. It wasn't your fault."

Or was it too early for that? He didn't know. Was there a timeline for this, some kind of protocol, a formula? Ten steps to recovery for you and your friend? He couldn't even think the word, wasn't sure when Caleb would ever be able to say it.

He knew what happened, though, and Caleb wouldn't need to say it. He would hold on, like he always had, right behind and beside him. As long as it took.

"I'm right here, man," he whispered. "Right beside you."

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