Chapter Three

"We're going home, we're going home, we're going, Hanson's going home, we're going home, we're go-"

"Taylor, give it a rest, will you?" grumbled Isaac, opening one eye.

"Sorry." Taylor turned to face him, an inane grin spread across his face. "It's just…" He began to sing again, "We're going home, we're going home, we're going, Hanson's-"

Isaac nudged him. "Quit it already!"

"Sorry."

"What does the England soccer song have to do with anything anyway?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. With Taylor like this, he obviously wasn't going to get any sleep on this particular plane ride. He shot an envious glance at Rhia, who was fast asleep on his other side, a piece of hair fluttering across her face as she inhaled and exhaled gently.

"The England soccer song?" Taylor looked and sounded mystified.

"That's what you're singing. The 'Three Lions' song. You know, it was out when we were in the UK." He began to sing. "Football's coming home, it's coming home, it's coming home, it's coming…" Isaac trailed off.

Taylor was still staring at him blankly.

"You know, Baddiel, Skinner and the Lightning Seeds? The official Euro 96 song? The unofficial World Cup 98 song? It was number one when we did our Wembley gig in June?"

"Isaac, you know so much useless information, it's actually scary."

Isaac laughed. "I just remember these things."

"Yeah, well, with all that junk in there you could go on that Millionaires show." He rubbed his head, trying to remember what the show was called. "You know…um…with that Regis guy…"

"Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"

"That's it."

Isaac smiled. "Tay, we're already millionaires."

"I know…" He screwed up his nose. "I guess we could just win the Pub Quiz then."

"You're on." Isaac shifted in his seat, turning so he could look at his brother properly. "So. How excited are you on a scale of one to ten?" he asked, his eyes glittering teasingly.

Taylor grinned broadly. "Oh, like a twelve! I can't wait to get home, Ike. Just have a break. Let someone else take care of things for a bit."

"Or let someone else take care of a certain brother of ours for a bit?" Isaac raised his eyebrows.

Taylor sighed. "Yeah, well. What are we gonna do with him, Ike? Do you really mean it about leaving him in Tulsa?"

Isaac massaged his temples, shaking his head slowly. "I really don't know, Tay. I wish I knew what he was thinking."

Taylor snorted. "I don't. He's twisted."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Taylor exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "What happened to him, Ike? Why is he such an ass?"

"I seem to remember that you weren't exactly an angel at sixteen," Isaac pointed out, a small smile playing on his lips.

"And what were you? Saint Isaac?"

"Okay, okay," Isaac relented. "But I don't think either of us were like this. I mean, sure, we did some pretty dumb, in your case, really dumb stuff, but at least we still talked. And we didn't hate each other. Well, at least, not all of the time."

"Maybe it's a phase?" suggested Taylor hopefully. "Maybe one day, he'll just wake up and the nice, normal Zac will be back."

"Zac's never been normal."

"Well, you know, normal for him. Goofing off, joking around with us… Actually talking to us and letting us know what he's feeling instead of just grunting occasionally or yelling at us." He sighed again, leaning back against the seat, the look in his eyes becoming wistful. "I miss him," he confessed, smiling sadly.

Isaac patted his arm. "I do too. We just have to try and get through to him. Maybe going home will help some."

"Maybe," agreed Taylor. But his weary tone of voice told Isaac that he didn't hold much hope.

***

"Chicken or vegetarian?"

"Huh?" Zac shook his head, snapping his head up and coming face to face with a blond-haired, blue-eyed air stewardess.

"Your meal, sir. Chicken or vegetarian?"

"Uh, chicken, please."

"Anything to drink?"

Zac stared at the stewardess, not really absorbing the words, mesmerized by her bright red lips parting and closing as she spoke.

"Sir?" The stewardess frowned, knitting her eyebrows together. "A drink?"

"No. No, thanks."

She smiled again, turning back to the trolley. "Have a nice flight."

Zac slumped back down in his seat, watching as the navy blue figure that was the stewardess floated further and further away from him, stopping to give each passenger his meal and a big, fake smile. He would hate to be a steward. Always having to be cheery and happy and camper-than-camp. No wonder everyone thought all stewards were gay, with their dumb smiles and their blue waistcoats and red bow-ties and gelled hair.

He picked up the small plastic fork that came with the tray of what was supposed to be chicken fricassee, but looked more like decomposing dog's waste. He stabbed it through the cellophane covering, watching as the pale, watery sauce oozed out through the tiny piercings. Shifting in his seat, he craned his neck, watching as Taylor and Isaac accepted their meals further down the plane. They were deep in conversation, barely acknowledging the steward who gave them their trays. And there would be no prizes for guessing what - or rather who - they were discussing.

Sighing, he ripped off the wrapper and speared a piece of chicken, popping it into his mouth and grimacing, wishing he'd gotten a glass of water, or coke, or just anything to take away the vile taste. He hated airplane food. But he was starving. He'd skipped breakfast, and all he'd had was a couple of bites of that lousy croissant in the office and a gulp or so of coffee. So, the chicken fricassee it was. He ate it quickly, not tasting it, swallowing mouthful after mouthful until the slimy stuff was all gone and the white plastic tray was visible.

Sitting back, he closed his eyes, resting his hand on his stomach.

"Indigestion?"

"Excuse me?" Zac turned to face the woman sitting beside him. She looked about thirty, and had small boy sitting on her knee. On her other side sat another boy of about six, who was gazing out of the window, fascinated by the view below.

"Indigestion. It's what you get for gulping it down like that. Doesn't your mom feed you?"

Zac laughed weakly. "Yeah, I guess that's what it is. You know, eat it quickly and you won't taste it."

"It was pretty gross, wasn't it?" The woman gestured to her almost untouched tray in front of her. "I'm just leaving it."

"I was starving," explained Zac. "I'm always starving."

The woman laughed, rummaging in her purse. "So are these two." She nodded towards her two sons. "Bottomless pits is my guess." She sat back up, pressing something into Zac's hand. "Here, have a Remegel. It'll make you feel better."

"Thanks." Zac chewed the minty tablet, hoping it would work. His stomach really ached now. "Uh, how old are your sons?" he asked, just for the sake of making conversation.

The woman smiled. "Seth is six and Christopher is three."

"They're cute."

Just then, Seth turned round from the window. "Mommy! I can see the Grand Canyon!"

Zac burst out laughing, earning himself a dirty look from the little boy.

"I can!" he protested defiantly.

"Seth, sweetie, the Grand Canyon's in Arizona. We're not flying over Arizona."

"Oh." Seth looked disappointed. "Who are you?" he asked, looking straight at Zac.

"Uh, I'm Zac. You're Seth, right?"

"Yeah." Seth eyed him suspiciously. "How old are you? You look really old."

"I'll be two hundred and forty three next birthday."

"Really?" Seth's eyes bugged out. "Wow, that's older than my mom!"

Zac laughed. "I'm just joking. I'm sixteen."

"Oh, well, that's still old, right?"

"Kinda."

"My brother's only three." Seth poked his brother in the side. "He sleeps a lot. Have you got a brother?"

"I got three."

"Wow! Do they sleep a lot?"

Zac shook his head in amusement. How had this happened? He'd just been sitting there, nursing a stomachache, and now he was having a conversation with a smartass six year old. "Not really," he answered. "They always yell at me for sleeping."

"Do you sleep a lot?"

Zac nodded. "I guess so."

"That's lazy. Is that why you're a little fat?"

"Seth!" His mom looked at him in horror. "Apologize at once!" She turned to Zac. "I'm sorry, he doesn't really know what he's saying."

"It's okay," Zac assured her. He knew he wasn't fat; those insecurities had left him a long time ago.

"I'm sorry." Seth smiled sweetly. "You're not fat. You're just big boned."

Zac had to laugh. "South Park?"

"Uh huh. My mommy won't let me watch it, but my friend Eddie has a TV in his room and when we sleep there, I watch it," Seth whispered conspiratorially.

"Oh, do you?" His mom stared at him, her eyes scrutinizing him.

Seth clapped his hand over his mouth. "Oops."

"Yes, oops. Now, Seth, I think we should leave Zac here alone."

"One more question." Seth held up a finger. "Do you like your brothers that won't let you sleep?"

"Do you like yours?"

Seth screwed up his little nose. "Sometimes I want him to die. But my mommy says when we grow up, we'll be best friends."

"Your mommy's right." Zac glanced up the plane at Taylor and Isaac, who were still talking, joined now by Rhia, who'd woken up.

"Are you best friends with your brothers?"

"I was."

"Why not now?"

"We had an argument."

"Because you fell asleep?"

Zac sighed. "Yeah, because I fell asleep."

"Well, just tell them you're awake now."

"I'll do that," Zac told him, smiling. He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep.

If only it was that easy. If only he could just go up to Isaac and Taylor and say, 'Hey, I'm awake now!'. If only that would work. If only he wanted it to work. He didn't know what he wanted any more. He didn't know if he wanted to be part of Isaac, Taylor and Zac any more. Maybe he just wanted to be Zac. Just Zac. He smiled, imagining introducing himself to a new person. 'Hi, I'm Just Zac'.

But it was great to be a part of Isaac, Taylor and Zac. Great to know that wherever he was, he had his two best friends with him. He didn't know if he could cope without them, but at the same time, he had this burning desire to break away. To be alone, to be solitary.

He cast his mind back to that morning, to his argument with Rachelle in the store room. Now that there were thousands of miles separating them, maybe he could think about what she'd said without having to fight the urge to punch her in her jumped up little face. Was she right? Did they love him? He didn't know. It was all a big mess. Before, it had all been so simple. What had gone wrong? There didn't seem to be a specific incident. Just everything added together, all swirled around in his brain and confusing him.

If he'd asked himself that question - did they love him - last year, he would have been absolutely certain of the answer. Of course they did. And he loved them. But now… Now it was all screwed up. Now, sometimes, he actually hated them. He couldn't remember ever hating his brothers before, but the amount of times he felt the contempt bubbling away inside of him was becoming more and more frequent. He hated Isaac for trying to be his parent when he wasn't and for always yelling at him, always getting on his case. He hated Taylor, more though. He hated him for always being right, always being perfect. He was so self-righteous. And he was always so nice to Zac. Always the understanding, good brother. Always, always, always. Why couldn't Taylor do something wrong for once? Why couldn't he freak out at him, like Ike did? Why did he always have to be so calm? Who did he think he was? A saint? An angel? Zac just wished that one day, Taylor would do something really, really wrong. Something that would make everyone realize that this perfect thing he had going was just an act.

He balled his hands into fists, driving them into the upholstery of the seat. He hadn't realized how mad he actually was. He exhaled slowly, breathing all the bad feeling out of him.

"Hey."

Zac looked up. The saint himself was standing in the aisle in front of him. He nodded abruptly.

"Enjoy the flight?" asked Taylor.

Zac nodded again.

"Zac…"

"What?"

"Please…"

"Please what?"

Taylor shook his head. "I dunno, Zac. Just remember, we're not the enemy. We're on your side, buddy."

"Whatever."

"Zac!" Taylor looked into his eyes, pleading with him non-verbally. "Don’t do this."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Are you okay?" asked Taylor, gesturing to Zac's hands, which still lay folded across his stomach.

"I ate too fast. For some reason, I skipped breakfast." Zac's voice was practically dripping with sarcasm as he trained his eyes onto the ceiling.

"Oh, Zac…" Taylor put his hand on his shoulder.

Zac shrugged it off forcefully. "Don't touch me." He brought his hand up to his face, rubbing his forehead. Why was this all such a mess?

Taylor perched on the armrest, sliding his arm around his brother, trying to pull him close. "Zac, it's okay. I'm here."

"I said don't touch me!" yelled Zac, shoving Taylor hard. "Just piss off, Taylor!" he continued shouting, ignoring the looks from the other passengers. "I don't want you here! You don't want me, so I'm allowed not to want you!"

Taylor just stared at him, biting his lip, the confusion evident in his troubled blue eyes.

"Just go."

Taylor didn't move, just kept standing there, the shell-shocked look masking his face. Zac covered his face with his hands, wishing his brother would cut the shocked bunny crap. If he was trying to guilt-trip him, it wasn't working.

The intercom crackled to life. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Tulsa. The temperature is roughly fifty degrees, and conditions are good for a trouble-free landing. Please return to your seats, switch off all electrical equipment and make sure your seatbelts are tightly fastened. Thank you for flying American Airlines and I wish you a pleasant stay in Oklahoma."

Taylor looked at Zac for another moment, then turned, walking purposefully back to his seat. Zac watched him go, then closed his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of emptiness and hopelessness that seemed to have embedded itself inside of him.

***

Who the hell does he think he is? Taylor sat in the backseat of his dad's car, sandwiched between Rhia and the window, leaning his head against the cool glass. On Rhia's other side, sat Zac, gazing out of the window and ignoring everyone in the car.

Watching as they turned onto their street, Taylor shook his head, trying to get rid of the hurt feeling. What Zac had said… How could he have said something so awful to him? Did he really not want him? His words had sliced through him like a thousand tiny, razor sharp daggers, and it was all he could do not to break down and cry, right there in the middle of the airplane. He wanted things to get better between them, he really did, and he'd been trying so hard. But if Zac didn't want him to even try, there wasn't really much he could do about it. He just wondered how things would be now that they were all sharing a room again.

Admittedly, Isaac, Taylor and Zac were a little old now to be still sharing a room, but they were hardly there now anyway, and there hadn't seemed much point in moving all the furniture around, so they were still in the big room at the front of the house, Isaac and Taylor in the bunks and Zac in the bed beside them.

He sighed, deciding not to worry about it for the time being. There were other things to think about, such as the gathering of his family on the front porch, below a banner saying WELCOME HOME!!! His mom, Jessica, Avery, Mackenzie and Zoë stood, along with a couple of the neighbors, smiling as the car pulled into the driveway.

Taylor pushed open the door and ran to his mother, throwing his arms around her and bursting into tears, feeling incredibly stupid. How idiotic must I look? he wondered, pressing his face against his mom's shoulder. He guessed it must just be all the pent-up emotions releasing themselves, set off by his relief of coming home.

"Tay, sweetie, what is it?" Mrs Hanson asked, smoothing down her son's hair.

Taylor wiped his eyes. "Nothing, I'm just so glad to be home." He let go of his mom and hugged all his sisters and brother in turn.

Jessica laughed. "You're such a wuss, Tay."

"Yeah, I know." He smiled, wiping his eyes.

Isaac struggled up to the front porch, two suitcases in each hand. He dumped them on the ground, wiping the sweat away from his forehead. "God, Tay, you're not crying are you?" he teased, slugging his brother on the shoulder.

"Not any more."

"Good." Isaac grinned, hugging everyone.

Mrs Hanson walked over to Zac. "Hey, sweetie." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Zac grimaced, wiping away the kiss and stomped into the house and upstairs, ignoring the puzzled looks on his family's faces.

Pushing open the door to his room, he walked in, throwing himself down on his bed, breathing in the familiar scent of his mom's detergent. He had to admit, it was pretty good to be home. Everything in the room was just as they had left it: Ike's favorite acoustic guitar in the corner; the dresser against the wall with the mirror above it; the blue and green curtains pulled back from the window; the tree outside; the armoire beside the dresser and then the door leading off into their bathroom. The same huge Cameron Diaz poster on the wall, along with Cindy Crawford and Sarah Michelle Gellar, and then, smaller sized and in frames on the dresser, their family photographs. One professionally taken picture of the entire family - aunts and uncles too - at some reunion in 98, and the little snapshots - one of their immediate family, one of Isaac and Rhia, one of Jessica, Avery and Mackenzie, taken back in 96, and one of the three of them and their cousin, Wayne.

Zac picked up the photograph, framed in simple black and examined it. It had been taken about a year ago, he guessed, in the couch in Wayne's rec. room, after a major pillow fight. The four of them sat, squished together on the ratty brown couch, one of Zac's arms around Taylor, the other around Wayne's neck as he tried to strangle him. Isaac sat sensibly, smiling for the camera, oblivious to the fact that Wayne, despite being strangled, was making bunny ears behind his head. Taylor's cheeks were flushed and his hair matted; he had one arm around Zac and the other seemed to be, as always, between his legs. Zac shook his head, wondering if Taylor even realized how bad it looked, sitting like that. Despite his black mood, he smiled. This was his favorite photograph. It was weird to think that in less than a year, they'd gone from close friends to what they were now.

"Oh, God, it's great to be home!" Taylor burst in through the door, leaping onto his bottom bunk. "My bed! My bed! God, I've missed you!"

Isaac appeared in the doorway, laughing. "And here was me thinking you'd just missed the family!"

"Yeah, that too," murmured Taylor, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Smiling, Isaac sat down on the bed next to Zac. "Hey, what you got there?" he asked, choosing to ignore that fact that Zac hadn't acknowledged either of them.

Without saying a word, Zac held out the photograph.

Isaac took it from him, his smile broadening. "Oh, I remember that day. It was fun, huh?" he pressed, hoping to provoke some sort of response from Zac.

"Yeah, I guess so," Zac muttered.

Isaac threw the picture to Taylor. "Sorry to interrupt your touching reunion with the bed, but do you remember that?"

Taylor pulled his face out of the pillow, with a mock show of reluctance, taking the framed photograph. His face broke into a grin as he examined it. "Hell, yeah. That was a great day!" He frowned, peering closely at it. "God, my hand's between my legs! Did you guys notice that?"

Isaac and Zac exchanged glances, both suppressing smiles.

"Uh, no, Tay, I didn't," lied Isaac.

"Me neither," concurred Zac.

Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God there were never any pictures taken to go in magazines like that!"

Isaac laughed, and quickly turned it into a cough. "Yeah, that was lucky."

Taylor stood up, shook his head and replaced the photograph on the dresser. "Well, I dunno about you guys, but I'm beat." He kicked off his shoes, then lay back down on the bed.

Zac got to his feet, grabbing a towel from the cupboard. "I'm taking a shower," he mumbled. He pushed open the door to the bathroom, then there was a click as it locked behind them.

Isaac sat down on Taylor's bed, poking his brother in the ribs.

"What?" grumbled Taylor, forcing one eye open. "I'm sleepy."

"Sleep later. Talk now."

"About what?" Taylor muttered, his voice barely audible through the pillow.

"What happened between you and Zac on the plane?"

Taylor pulled the pillow over his face and moaned. "Ike…"

"Something happened. You looked like you were about to burst into tears when you came back." He frowned. "But you were okay with him there just now."

Taylor sighed. "It's no big deal, I guess. He kinda freaked at me, told me he didn't want me and all this crap."

"Are you mad?"

"I was." Taylor smiled sardonically. "But I'm letting it go. Maybe being back home… I mean, he was almost having a conversation with us then, wasn't he?"

"He was," agreed Isaac.

"I'm thinking that maybe, if I let this go, this trip home could be what we need to get him back."

"Maybe," Isaac murmured, non-committally.

"Hey, we can only try."

"That's true."

Taylor yawned loudly, his mouth opening so wide, it appeared to be straining at the edges.

Isaac smiled. "Okay, buddy, I'm gonna let you get some sleep. You look like you need it."

"Oh, thanks, Ike," Taylor mumbled sarcastically, burying his face back down in his pillow.

"No problem," replied Isaac gently. "You can always count on me to tell you when you look less than your best," he added, slipping out through the doorway.

Taylor smiled to himself lazily, his thoughts blurred as sleep washed over him. Blurry as they were, he knew his thoughts were on Zac. Not Zac as he was now, but Zac as he had been, smiling, joking, laughing. And sleepy as he was, Taylor knew he was determined to get that Zac back.

***

"Won't bring you back, yeah, yeah, blue on black…" Zac absently sang along with the Kenny Wayne Shepherd Band as he coasted the car to a stop in front of the wrought iron gates. He turned the key, silencing both the engine and the blues band, the sudden quiet almost deafening.

He sighed, rummaging in the glove box for a mint or a candy bar, or just something to eat and ease his stomach. He didn't know why he was so nervous about coming here. Sure, it had been a long, long time since he'd last been, but he'd done it so many times since that awful first time that Taylor had driven him up here, just over two years ago. Suddenly, he realized that he wished Taylor was there with him now. Sometimes the sentimental crap really got on your nerves, but there were other times when you could really use it. He shook his head, simultaneously shaking his brother out of his mind. Taylor wasn't with him. He was at home, in the kitchen, making popcorn chains to string on the Christmas tree with Mackenzie and Zoë.

Eventually, Zac found a Jolly Rancher and popped it in his mouth, grimacing as he realized that it was watermelon flavored. It would have to do though; he needed to soothe the niggling in the pit of his stomach.

He picked up the flowers that lay on the seat beside him and pushed open the car door, shivering as the chilly air whipped up and under his sweater. He took a deep breath, then strode purposefully to the gates, pushing them open and slipping between them. Clenching his fists, he walked quickly up the path, almost on auto-pilot. He knew exactly when and where to stop.

It still looked the same, he realized. A little dirtier, maybe, and the dead flowers weren't a normal occurrence, but it was still almost identical looking to the last time he'd been here. He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar wave of sadness and loneliness wash over him, as it always did when he visited Corey, and seemed to be doing more and more frequently now, even when he wasn't in the cemetery.

He knelt down, pulling out the brown, shriveled up carnations and lilies from the flower vase and throwing them aside. It angered him to see dead flowers at people's graves. It was as if the people had just been forgotten about because they were dead. He would never forget Corey. Ever. He slid his own bunch of flowers into the little vase, then stood up, his knees cracking awkwardly.

He cleared his throat, removing all the traces of tears from it, then began to speak feeling a little stupid, but knowing that it would help him. He had to talk to somebody. "Hey, Corey," he started, his voice shaky. He sighed, and when he began to speak again, his voice was clearer, stronger. "Well, here I am. I'm…y'know…I'm sorry I couldn't make it here for the anniversary, but I was thinking about you. I'm living over in New York City now. Yeah, the big city. Pretty scary." He laughed nervously, raking his hand through his hair. "I'm living with Ike and Tay. It's…difficult. Oh, who am I kidding? It's hell. They don't want me there. It's like I'm breaking up their cozy little partnership or something…" He trailed off, looking up at the rapidly darkening sky. "They just bug me so much right now. It's like everything they do makes me want to strangle them. What's wrong with me? I totally snapped at Taylor the other day, when we were flying back home. He looked like he was ready to cry. I know, you're probably thinking 'so what', right? Taylor always cries. Well, he doesn't, really. Not any more. I mean, he cried when we got home, but I think I had something to do with that, because of what I said to him. I feel bad, but at the same time, I feel kind of…I dunno…powerful. And you know the worst thing? He's still being so nice to me. He's always nice. Y'know, Mr Perfect." He folded his arms, hugging himself, trying to warm his chilled body. "Maybe it'll blow over. Maybe we'll all be friends again, but I dunno. In a way, I hope so, but in a way, I just don't give a damn. I don't give a damn about anything anymore. I'm failing math, I'm a lousy business partner…" His voice broke, and he realized, with horror, that he was almost crying.

He shook his head, swallowing and wiping his eyes. He couldn't cry. He coughed, and began to speak again, the threat of the tears gone. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he confessed. "I'm just a failure. And I don't even care, that's the worst part. I'm just a big mess. A big, fat, confused mess."

His voice trailed off again, and he stood in silence, staring at Corey's headstone and consciously thinking about nothing. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Zac? Zac Hanson?"

He spun around slowly, his eyes widening. "Libby?" he asked, almost unable to recognize her.

"Yeah. Hi."

"You look…different…"

Libby's once long, shiny, brown hair had been cropped short, and was dyed blonde, with purple streaks through it. Her skin was almost tinted yellow, and her previously stocky, voluptuous figure had been replaced with a painfully thin one. She looked really ill, Zac thought.

Libby smiled faintly. "Yeah. You look good."

"So do you," Zac replied automatically.

"Don't lie. I look awful."

Zac said nothing.

She sighed, tossing her short blonde mane. "You can ask what happened, you know."

"What happened?"

"I'm sick."

"Sick?" Zac repeated. "Like the flu?"

"Like AIDS," replied Libby, matter-of-factly. "Well, there's no point beating around the bush," she told him, noticing the look of complete shock on his face. "It's what it is."

Zac bit his lower lip and trained his eyes on the ground. He didn't know what to say. Finally, the color rising in his cheeks, he stammered out, "When…"

"Well, I was diagnosed HIV positive like this time last year, then with full-blown AIDS just two weeks ago."

"I'm sorry, Libby."

"It's not your fault." She smiled, a bigger one this time; it looked almost real. "Hey, I bet you think this is my morbid way of planning for the future. Hanging around in graveyards."

Zac almost choked. "Libby, don’t."

"Sorry." She walked over to the bench and perched o the back of it, him following her and standing uncomfortable in front. "So, Zac Hanson, what brings you back to Tulsa? I heard you were schmoozing it with the big wigs in NYC."

Zac smiled a little. "Yeah, I'm living in the City now, with Ike and Tay."

"Bet it's fun. You guys must have a blast, you always got on so well together."

Zac raised his eyebrows. "Well, it's not all been plain sailing."

"Oh, well." She looked up at him, her dull eyes meeting his. "When do you fly back out?"

"We're flying to England next, actually. We've signed this girl band, Kindred Spirit, and that's where they're recording their album."

"Well, I'll look out for them."

"You do that," replied Zac.

They sat in uncomfortable silence, neither of them knowing what to say to one another.

Finally, Libby jumped down from the bench. "Hey, well, y'know, I should be getting back."

"Okay. Uh...do you want a ride?"

"No, no, I promised I'd stop in on Matt on the way home."

"Matt Torwood?"

Libby smiled. "Yeah. We're still dating. That's been since that New Year's party at your house."

"Wow. Well, tell him I'm home, and to come see me sometime."

"I'll do that," she promised. "Later."

"Yeah, bye."

Zac watched as Libby turned on her heel and walked slowly away from him. Suddenly, she stopped and walked back over to him. She put her arms around him, pulling him close.

He held her lightly, scared that if he squeezed her too hard she would break.

"I'm being silly," she whispered. "But, y'know, just in case…" She sighed. "Take care of yourself, Zac."

"You too," he murmured.

She pulled back. "Merry Christmas, Zac."

"Merry Christmas," he replied. He'd almost forgotten it was Christmas Eve.

She waved, then turned around, shrugged her shoulders and disappeared into the dusk. Zac sat back down on the bench, unable to fathom the news he'd just been given. Libby Reynolds had AIDS. She was going to die. He buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

Libby had always been friendly with the opposite sex, but he'd never thought that anything like this would come from it. He sighed, looking up into the dark gray sky, as if searching for an answer in the stars that were just starting to appear. She was so young, only seventeen. She'd be eighteen in April. It was such a waste of a person, of a life. He didn't know what he would do if he was suddenly told his life was going to end, just like that.

He got to his feet, walking back over to the gates, slid through them and unlocked the car door. He turned on the ignition, the blues music flowing through the speakers once more. Funny how he'd taken a liking to blues music lately. Maybe because his life seemed to be one huge, big blues song right now. He didn't fit in, he didn't want to fit in, he was completely alone. Yep, he thought grimly, easing the car out of the parking space, I got the perfect ingredients for a blues song of my own.

***

"Is popcorn biodegradable?" Jessica wondered out loud, popping a piece in between her lips and chewing on it.

"It's a natural product, Jess," replied Isaac, frowning as he concentrated on pushing the needle through a piece and threading it onto his chain.

"So it doesn't harm the environment?" pressed Jessica, putting another piece into her mouth.

"It is the environment!" Taylor reached over her shoulder, snatching a piece of popcorn and sticking it into his own mouth.

"Just checking," she smiled, slipping another popped kernel into her mouth.

"Hey! Are you two gonna help make the chains or just eat them all?" chided Isaac.

"A bit of both," shrugged Taylor, turning to his littlest sister and helping her to string some pieces together. "Yeah, that's great, Zoë, just like that. Careful…"

Zoë smiled up at him. "It's pretty."

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "And you know what? We'll string some chains up outside and the birdies can eat it! That'll please your sister, anyway."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Taylor, it's important to be environmentally conscious."

"Yeah, but popcorn?" Taylor spread his hands. "Please!"

"Where's Zac?" asked Mackenzie, stuffing a handful of corn into his mouth. "D'you think he'll want to play kickball with me?"

"He's gone out, Mack."

"Is Zac actually home with you guys?" Avery raised her eyebrows, taking a sip of her apple juice. "He's barely said two words to me!"

"I think he's here somewhere," laughed Jessica. "Well, not right now, but I think I saw him at dinner for the past couple of nights. It's the only way to get him to show himself, Avie. Tempt him with food… You know, Zac can't last five minutes without thinking of his stomach."

"That's actually a good idea," mused Isaac. He picked up some popcorn and crouched on the floor, rubbing his fingers together. "Here, Zaccy, Zaccy, Zaccy, Zaccy," he hissed, as if calling for a cat or a dog. A wave of laughter traveled around the table.

"Where did he go?" asked Zoë.

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know, Zo. He didn't say."

"Oh." Zoë looked nonplussed, playing with one of her blond, curly bunches. "Can I go see Mommy?"

"Sure. You bored?"

Zoë nodded, sliding down from her chair and leaving the kitchen, Mackenzie following her.

"Anyone notice anything weird here?" spoke up Taylor.

"Sure, Isaac's sitting right there," cracked Jessica.

"Oh, har-de-har!" Isaac rolled his eyes. "What's so weird, Tay?"

"We were supposed to be helping Mackie and Zoë make the chains. Now they're gone, and it's just us big kids making them." Taylor shook his head. "Is this the peak of my pathetic existence? Making popcorn chains?"

"Probably," muttered Isaac, not really paying attention to Taylor's dramatics.

Just then, the back door slammed, and Zac came stomping into the kitchen, going straight to the cookie jar and grabbing a handful of Oreo's.

"See, what did I tell you?" Jessica pointed to Zac, stuffing cookies into his mouth. "He can't stop thinking about his stomach."

Zac looked at her. "Screw you," he said finally, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Zac, remember me?" His other little sister stared up at him.

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, you're Avie."

"Oh, you've noticed I'm here! Just as well."

"What's the deal with this?" Zac demanded. "Get off my case, all of you!"

"Well, you haven't been around much, have you?" reasoned Jessica, offering him the bowl of popcorn.

Zac shoved it away, sending showers of white, feather-light popcorn spiraling to the ground. "I don't see that it's any of your business where I am," he told her coldly, his eyes narrowing. "And do you really blame me for not wanting to be stuck here with you pathetic losers?" He jumped to his feet and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Avery stared at her older brothers and sister, chin trembling and her eyes glistening. "Why did he say that?" she asked tearfully, her bottom lip wobbling, dangerously close to crying.

Taylor lifted her up, then sat her on his knee, hugging her tightly. "Zac's just in a bad mood," he soothed. "It's okay, he didn't mean it."

"He did so," Jessica stated flatly. "He doesn't give a damn about us. It's all Zac, Zac, Zac. He's turned into a major ass."

"That's not nice," Taylor admonished half-heartedly. But inside, he knew that she was right.

"But it's true," she countered, reasonably. "It's like he's a totally different person. I want the old Zac back."

Taylor buried his nose in Avery's hair, smelling the Johnson's Baby Shampoo she still used - despite being ten years old, the popcorn and talcum powder. He sighed, making strands of Avery's long, blonde hair dance in the air. He wanted the old Zac back, too. The Zac that he used to be so close to, the Zac that he could always count on.

But who even knew if that Zac existed any more?

***

Zac stood on the familiar front porch, shifting his weight from foot to foot, waiting for someone to answer the door. Finally, it swung open, the small woman in the doorjamb gasping in surprise. "Zac Hanson?"

"Hey, Mrs Torwood," he replied, smiling at his friend's mother.

"Well, I've not seen you for a while! My, you've grown, you know that?" She scrutinized him, her eyes flitting briefly up and down his body.

"Yeah, I know," he answered. Now he towered over Mrs Torwood, and she looked even tinier than she used to. "Is Matt in?" he asked.

"Sure, sure, he's down in the garage. Just go on down."

"Thanks." Zac headed down the familiar hallway and out through the side door, down the stairs and into the Torwoods' garage. Matthew was sitting on a red beanbag, flicking through something, a can of lager in his hand, several more empty ones scattered around him. "Matt?" Zac spoke up, surprised at how weak and timid his voice sounded.

Matt's head jerked up. "Hanson?" he asked, his eyes crossing as he tried to focus. "Zaccy, man, is that you?"

"Yeah." Zac raised his arms slightly, then slapped them down against his legs. "It's me."

Matt stumbled to his feet and across the room, throwing his arms around Zac. "Buddy, you came back… You came back… You're not dyin' are you, buddy?"

"No, no, I'm not dying," Zac assured him, patting his back awkwardly. His friend was obviously totally gassed.

"She's dyin'," Matt told him miserably, flopping back down on to the beanbag.

"Yeah, I know." Zac settled himself on the beanbag, next to his friend. "What ya doin'?" he asked, nodding towards the book.

Matt took another drink from his can of Miller, swilling the sour liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it. "Looking at some old photos. Wanna see?"

"Sure."

"You want one?" Matt nodded to the can.

"Sure," Zac nodded again, and Matt passed one to him. Zac popped the tab and gulped down some of the golden liquid, grimacing as he realized that it was warm. He shuddered, but drank another mouthful anyway.

"Look," smiled Matt, pointing to a photograph. "Remember that day?"

Zac broke into a smile of his own. It was a picture, taken the day of the pool party at Corey's house. "Yeah, that was fun."

"That was when Corey got stuck into Libby for the first time," Matt pointed out.

"Yeah, I remember." Zac didn't really want to talk about it. That day had also been the first day he'd kissed Libby, in the Prices' kitchen, only minutes before Matt and Steven Saunders had dared her to kiss Corey.

Matt turned the page. "Oh, look, there's you guys." He pointed to a photo taken about a year and a half ago, in the local park. Isaac, Taylor and Zac were all posing against the tree, arms draped around each other. "That pose…it screams attitude, dude." He took another swig of his drink. "If it weren't for all the cuddly stuff. Man, you guys were always into all that brother crap. All the Barney 'I love you, you love me, we're a happy family' stuff, weren't ya?"

Zac nodded. "Yeah, I guess we were."

"I always thought it was kinda gay," Matt confessed. "And, like, Tay… Man, he was way heavy…"

"He still is," Zac confessed.

"You sure he's not gay? I'd watch your back, Zac. You never know when he'll jump on you in the night." He cackled loudly. "Hey, next time you get scared in the night and he offers to share your bed, make sure your PJs have feet. He so wants you, dude. Look at him!" He pointed to another photograph, taken on the same day, of just Taylor and Zac. Taylor had Zac pulled closely to him, their faces squashed together.

Zac laughed weakly, feeling uncomfortable. This was his brother Matt was dissing. And, sure, maybe they weren't getting along so great right now, but still, it was off. "Nah, dude, he's not like that. He just cares about me."

"Oh, yeah!" scoffed Matt. "He's totally into you! I remember when I came to see you. Not long after…you know…Corey, and he wouldn't leave you alone. He made me leave! God, talk about possessive. I mean, no offense, but he don't have any competition. I really don't wanna fuck you, Zac."

"Neither does he."

"Sure, sure. When was the last time he looked into your eyes with his big, earnest blue ones and said, 'Zac, I love you!'? Bet it was like Tuesday or something."

Zac smiled sardonically. "Nah. We're not getting on too well right now."

"What'd you do? Refuse him wild, passionate animal sex?

"Matt, quit it, okay?" snapped Zac.

Matt held up his hands. "Sorry, dude… Just teasing. So, what did you do? You guys were always so close."

"I dunno. I feel like they don't want me there." Zac miserably took another gulp from his can. "I mean, we're going to England, and Ike threatens not to take me, cos I fell asleep and missed some dumb meeting."

"Whoa, that sucks," Matt sympathized. "But Ike's like twenty one now, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he's getting boring and responsible." Matt waved his hands. "It happens. What about you and Tay though? How's the Golden Boy dealing with that?"

"I dunno. I'm just sick of him. It's like I'm suffocating or something. Like I do something totally shitty, like… Well, I left them in the City without a car, okay?"

"You're kidding!" Matt guffawed, eyes shining as he imagined the scenario. Isaac and Taylor had never been his favorite people.

"Nope. So, like, Ike flips, and it's like, okay, fair enough, he should. But what does Tay do?"

"Throw you onto the bed and rip your clothes off?" suggested Matt.

Zac raised his eyebrows. "Noooo, you ass. But he gets all buddy-buddy with me, saying that he was so worried and he just doesn't want anything to happen to me." Zac swallowed the last of his beer and hurled the empty can at the wall. "I just really wanna see him mad. All this serenity deal makes me wanna hurl! He's like some Saint or something."

"Saint Incest," said Matt seriously.

"Matt!" Zac punched him, hard on the arm. "Quit it. I know he's an ass, and I know you don't like him, but that's my brother. And, besides, he's not like that. He's just affectionate."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" drawled Matt. He suddenly flipped onto his side, examining Zac closely. "You know, Libby was right."

"About what?" asked Zac, puzzled.

"You did get fatter," chucked Matt, poking Zac in the stomach.

"Oh, fuck off," muttered Zac exasperatedly. "I'm not fat."

"No," agreed Matt. "But you're fatter."

Zac felt himself reddening. What was the deal with this? He wasn't fat, he knew he wasn't and the scale told him he wasn't. "Shut up."

"Oh, can't take it, Porky?"

"Matt! Quit it. It's just this shirt." Zac tugged at the shirt, trying to make it baggier around his stomach.

"Sure, it just clings in all the wrong places?" Matt raised his eyebrows skeptically. He poked him again. "God, Zac, it wobbles! It's like Jell-O!"

"Oh, piss off, it does not," muttered Zac, crossing his arms across his stomach.

Matt, seeing that he'd hit a sore point, decided to continue. It was fun to see Zac squirm. "Too many business dinners?" he teased. "Oh, Zac, hey! You're growing another chin there!"

Zac patted under his chin. "I am not!"

"Hey, don't worry about it. The chubby look always did suit you. Now you're just using it to its full effect." He grinned wickedly. "You could hire yourself out as a trampoline at kid's parties!"

"That's it!" snapped Zac, jumping to his feet. He'd had enough of Matt's stupid teasing now. "I'm going." He started to walk over to the stairs.

"Zac, wait!" Matt clambered to his feet, grabbing his arm. "I'm sorry, I'm just joking around. You're not fat, okay? Please stay."

Frowning, Zac sat back down on the floor, tugging self-consciously at his shirt. "Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yeah. I mean, Libby was right, you've put on weight, but you've got a while to go before you're fat, Zac."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

Matt struggled to find the right words. "I mean… Oh, geez, Zac, you're just…you. Anyway, it could be worse. You could be a stick like Taylor."

"Yeah, better being a fat ass than a stick," intoned Zac dryly.

"Exactly."

"Oh, thanks!" Zac muttered, eyes glaring angrily at his friend.

"Man, I'm sorry… My foot seems to love living in my mouth right now. The beer don't help, I guess."

"It's okay." Zac patted his stomach. "I know I'm not fat. I'm just big boned," he smiled, thinking back to little Seth on the plane. "And I'm gonna eat what I want to and when I want to. If I get fatter, well, who cares?"

"I like the attitude, man," grinned Matt, nodding in approval.

"You're the only one!" Zac chuckled, throwing his friend another beer and popping another one open for himself.

***

The clock flashed 2:19 in its luminescent green liquid crystal digits, an incessant reminder to Taylor that he should be fast asleep and not lying awake, tossing and turning in his bottom bunk. He sighed, punching the pillow with his fist and rolling over yet again, but he knew that sleep wouldn't come to him, not that night.

Silently, he slid out of bed and tugged on a pair of jeans and a sweater over the boxer shorts he slept in. He jammed his bare feet into a pair old of training shoes and tiptoed out of their room and downstairs, slipping out of the front door.

Creeping about in the shadows of the front yard reminded him of how he used to sneak out to meet Gabbie, that time they'd gone to that club, or the times he'd snuck back in, climbing up that old tree outside of their bedroom window, Isaac hauling him inside. He smiled as he remembered Isaac's reluctance to participate in his little scheme, and then the smile faded as he recalled the trouble that sneaking out had gotten him into. The newspaper articles, Ike not talking to him for ages, his dad being angry. But what was being sixteen all about if it wasn't for getting into trouble?

Sixteen. Zac was sixteen, he thought as he turned out of their driveway and onto the street. But Zac wasn't acting like a normal sixteen year old, sneaking out or playing his girlfriend. Although Taylor thought he had come in drunk the other night. It had been hard to tell, but Zac had been walking kind of wobbly and had been talking complete crap about being fat or something. Taylor knew that he'd gone to see Matt Torwood. It didn't surprise him that Matt was into drinking. He'd never liked him. But, he thought, his line of consideration turning back to its original subject, that was the only time Zac had done a normal rebellious thing. The rest of the time, he was genuinely being a downright nasty person.

Taylor shivered, thinking back to Christmas, the week before, and how Zac had almost ruined it for everyone. He'd refused to get up early; he'd told Mackie that Santa Claus didn't exist; he'd scowled all the way through dinner; he hadn't said one nice thing to anyone all day; he wouldn't wish anyone a Merry Christmas. Not to mention wrecking the popcorn chain manufacturing line they'd had set up on Christmas Eve. There was just no way to get through to him. If anything, coming home had made Zac worse.

He thought of him, lying up in his bed. While Taylor had been waiting for sleep to descend upon him, he'd lain, watching Zac sleeping. With his gentle breathing, slightly parted lips and shiny, random strands of golden hair falling across his blank face, his brother had looked almost angelic. Maybe angelic was an exaggeration, but he certainly hadn't looked like the nasty person he'd become.

Taylor knew that the old Zac was still inside of this new, mutant brother he had, locked up and desperate to break through. He could see it in Zac's eyes when he pleaded with him, or when he laid on the guilt trip, or when he sometimes turned round and caught Zac just staring wistfully at him. But any attempt to crack through the hard, outer shell and reach the sensitive, human Zac resulted in the shell closing up again, shutting off the world completely.

It was scary how much Zac had changed. In fact, it was almost like an evil twin scenario from a trashy soap opera or something. Taylor found himself wondering fleetingly if maybe his mom had really given birth to twins and gave one up for adoption, and now the given-away one was jealous, and he had kidnapped the real Zac and kept him locked up somewhere in a cave in Outer Mongolia.

Smiling at his stupidity, Taylor shook his head. Of course there wasn't an evil twin. It was just a side of Zac that wasn't so nice. But who was to say that the change was permanent? Somewhere inside of him, Taylor knew that one day, he would crack through the shell and reach the real Zac. But it would take time and patience.

Until the day when he finally rediscovered his brother, Taylor would have to grit his teeth and bear it, trying not to hate his brother for all the mean things that he was doing. Zac couldn't keep this guard up forever. The day would come when he would break down, need his brothers, cry on their shoulders again like he used to do.

A strange longing niggled in Taylor's heart, a desire to hold his brother like he used to, protecting him, reassuring him, telling him everything would be okay as he rocked him gently. They'd used to do that. When there had been all the confusion over Corey Price and Libby Reynolds, Taylor had been there to pick up the pieces, then when Corey had been tragically killed at the bonfire, Taylor had been there to support his brother. He longed to do it again. To cry with his brother, to laugh with his brother, to share with his brother. To even have this particular brother again, to have him act like he cared whether Taylor lived or died, to talk to him, to love him.

Zac didn't even seem to like him any more, let alone love him, and it hurt, slicing through him whenever he thought about it. Maybe if they'd always been distant, it would have been easy to deal with; he knew a lot of people who didn't get on with their siblings. But going from the relationship they used to have and it turning into absolutely nothing was hard to understand, to comprehend. But then, Taylor thought, stopping and perching on the wall beside the local 7-11 store, maybe they didn't have absolutely nothing. Sure, Zac hated Taylor, but that didn't mean that Taylor didn't love him. He realized that, despite his feelings of frustration towards him, and the way that Zac had been treating him, he really did love his brother. He always would.

And maybe that one-way love alone wasn't enough to get Zac back, but it certainly couldn't hurt.

Chapter Four
"Keep It As Snow" Index
Main Page