Worried

Jason reads Katie's message. Was he okay? How could he even answer that? No, he wasn't okay. But it wasn't a "not okay" that he was used to. It was different. He was less okay with his emotional state, or lack thereof, than what he felt about his stepfather possibly being dead.

He stops for a moment, thinking about Wes. He'd tried so hard. He'd tried to be as much a father he could, even when Jason hadn't warmed up to him. But Jason had always seen how Wes had treated his mother - it was more than any other man had done. And now Jason had a little sister, too. No, he had no malice against Wes at all. There was definite... sorrow. Was that what this was? Sorrow? That faint feeling back in the nooks and crannies that could barely be felt? Since he didn't feel happy, did that mean he was sad?

Jason shakes his head. He was just going around in circles now.

Hitting the reply button, he pauses yet again. What did Katie think? Did she feel anything either? Although technically she was no relation to Wes at all, other than him being her aunt's brother-in-law, Jason knew Katie still considered him her uncle - all of the Henson's were like her aunts and uncles and they all considered her their niece too. Wes was no exception. Was Katie bothered by this news? Jason simply didn't know. There was no blip in his emotions. There was no hiccup in the flow to tell him something was wrong. There was no flow at all.

He sighs.

Yeah I think I'm ok.
Worried about Mom.
U?


Mick thinks for a moment, wiping his nose again. Exhaustion wasn't even close to how he felt. Would Dylan be okay for a little while? He did trust Stacy.

Finally, he nods. "Okay. I guess I could use a little sleep. Let me go clean up then get him cleaned up too and I'll let you take over."

It takes him a bit longer than anticipated to get his nose to stop bleeding, but once it does, he heads back to the bedroom. By now, Dylan appeared to be back down in a low state of fever mixed with depression mixed with exhaustion. It was just as well - Mick figured it would be a while until he exploded again, if he did at all.

Managing to get a clean shirt on Dylan and pulling the blankets over him again, Mick exits once more into the hall. "He seems to be quieted down again." He rubs a hand over his face, feeling as though he could collapse right there. "His fever has been going up and down and he gets chilled pretty bad, but I think his outburst has passed." He shakes his head. "All night it's been a rollercoaster of highs and lows. One minute he's determined to beat this, the next he's depressed and would rather die, and the next he's desperate just for more drugs and doesn't care how he gets them."

Stacy didn't need all of that information. But maybe Mick just needed to vent a little. He manages a small smile. "Thanks for your help. I'll be in the master bedroom if you need me. I'll try not to sleep too long."


In bed, Dylan shivers uncontrollably. He was hot. He was cold. He was nauseous. He was thirsty. He was angry. He was subdued. He craved the drugs. He was determined to get through this. It didn't matter what he felt one second - the next he felt the opposite. Had he just been outside? He wasn't even sure. Where was he? He wasn't sure of that either.

Burrowing farther under the blankets, he tries to shut everything out. It didn't work though. When he closed his eyes, all that was waiting were more nightmares.