Rowan scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, finding her lashes to be sticky as if she'd been crying in her sleep again. She knew it wouldn't be the first time, but it was the first time she woke up with no recollection of what'd made her cry, which was unnerving. Rowan was the kind of child who'd lived with such instability that she depended so much upon the facts she could understand to help her through the ones she couldn't; just as the Quinn's uncomfortable atmosphere of secrecy had terrified her through the meal so did this current lack of understanding. She knew better than to try to remember though, because she was afraid to willingly open up the vault that was her memories to allow negatives in since she'd been given this outstanding (and rare) opportunity to avoid reliving yet another memory from the life she'd miraculously survived before meeting Kellin.

She rolled over a bit to find her bedding wasn't nearly as soft as she'd remembered it being upon falling asleep. She looked down to discover she was laying on what looked like a dirty towel. It was only then that she pushed herself up to sit and examined herself more thoroughly. The shirt she treasured so was damp and muddy, her legs also caked with mud and stray blades of grass, greenish smudges along the backs of her calves and palms of her hands. She didn't even want to imagine the state her hair was in, she'd rather not. She also realized that for the first time in a while, the house was dead silent and she was alone. Her room was dim, only lit by the nightlight cutting in by way of her gaping-open, doorless bathroom. She wasn't sure if the light was left on intentionally or not but either way she was grateful. She'd never been scared of the dark much, only the fact that it offered others the opportunity to lurk unseen. However, here in this house she felt that sense of trust that was oh so new to her as it reassured her that no one who would harm her was here. She slid from the pallet of towels atop her bed, her dirty feet probably ruining the floor but she didn't much care, she had other things on her mind and knew she'd contend with cleaning later.

She shuffled to the bathroom, running the tips of her mud-crusted fingers over the light-switch before deciding to leave it off and just use the dimmer nightlight to see by, all the while being careful not to make much noise. For one she didn't want to disturb the family and she also wanted to cherish this moment of alone time. She entered, treading lightly, and checked the small clock on the counter. Its green numbers shone, the print of 3:13AM cast an alien glow on her hands she she fumbled about for what she desired. Even though the light was on the room wasn't brilliantly lit and the cupboard was hard to see, still she felt her palm brush over something soft and grabbed ahold. She tugged out the clean towel and smaller washcloth and set them on the counter before closing the creaky cabinet door so slowly she thought she'd missed a birthday by the time it closed softly. She took the washcloth in her hand as she scooted over to the tub, twisting the knob with great attention and patience whilst holding the cloth beneath the faucet. As the water began to run its sound was muffled by the dampening hand-towel just as Rowan had planned. The water was running so slow that Rowan knew it'd take ages to fill but it was worth it if she didn't have to have yet another bath with Katelynne by her side or Kellin sitting on the closed toilet with his back to her. It's not to say she wasn't grateful for their care but she was beginning to feel so suffocated she'd thought she might explode and knew that, if they were all to continue living in such close quarters, this moment of peace was needed. She eventually shrugged out of Kellin's shirt and her boy-short underwear, laying them out on the far side of the counter, before sliding into the heated water. It was just the right temperature, hot enough to make her skin tingle and beg her to evacuate but cool enough it wouldn't blister and leave any residue. She felt alive, like her every nerve was shocked awake, as she pushed herself further into the bath. Once the majority of her was beneath the surface she stretched her hand out for the body wash she'd been given, lathering up the washcloth and sudsing up her skin, rubbing away the viscous substance from everywhere it was.

It was only as she tore open a few of her cuts a little that she woke enough to wonder where the hell this mud had come from. Her heart thrummed against her ribs viciously, giving her the mental image of its beating bruising the inside of her with its force. What had happened that she couldn't remember? What had gotten her filthy and tearful? Another nightmare? Had she been sleep walking? She begged whoever was supposedly listening that no one had noticed her absence before she got back, hoping against hope that she'd left to wherever and returned before the Quinn's had realized she'd gone in the first place. She bit her lip hard enough to draw yet more blood as the burning sensation of body wash filling open wounds drew her attention back to the present. She could worry about what'd happened later, for now she needed to concentrate on bathing and getting out of here before anyone came to check on her. She watched thin trickles of oxidized ruby liquid draw little paths down her skin while she tried to get rid of as much mulch as she could manage. She unstoppered the tub, letting it drain slowly, seeing as the water had been turned a murky shade with all her melting filth.

She waited until the tub was empty and she was left shivering in the icy porcelain bowel before she finally restored the plug and yet again began the process of filling the tub slowly, this time muffling the sound by spinning around and leaning back so that the fresh water ran through her matted hair. She left the water at a temperature close to that of ice as she picked up the shampoo –the same kind Kellin used apparently since its smell wrapped her like a second skin, one much stronger and more loving than her own– popping it open and squeezing a glob into her still-healing palm before leaning away from the water and lathering her hair with the gunk with enough force that she was sure she could bald herself. She rinsed it away and decided to just let the tub fill up with the snowy liquid even though she should probably be hurrying to get out. She flipped around again, her feet now below the stream of water, and laid her shoulders back. She let her head loll back, her back sliding down until her knees were above the water level and her head completely submerged. The chilling water bit at her skin, making her previously over-heated cells alive with the sharp change in temperature. She forced her eyes open, gazing up through the blur to the swirling ceiling above. She'd never realized before that the ceiling was covered with a crisp black and white damask pattern, even through swirling movements of the bathwater and dim, lack-of-light she could see it was a beautiful touch.

She distantly felt her lungs screaming for oxygen but she felt no guilt as she refused them their need, too mystified by the beauty of that moment. The beauty of the ceiling, the water, the chill, the way her body felt frozen solid, the fact that she held the power. She had the power to simply stay here, letting the last image her eyes would ever see be an imprint of the prismatic miss-matched victorian pattern of the ceiling as it was smeared by the layer of water separating the design from her vision. What would that feel like, just letting herself go– right here, right now? She hoped, as she had many times before when clinging to the last threads of her desire to live, that death would embrace her, welcome her with the type of serenity she never imagined she could reach in life.

She heard a muffled sound, something that she imagined would be loud if she weren't underwater, and it snapped her into motion. She threw herself upwards, gasping for air and clawing at the sides of the tub to support her weakened and dizzy state before she accidentally slipped back under. Her slippery hands found purchase on the faucet and she clung to it, tugging herself up as she coughed and spluttered, trying to get rid of the water that'd slunk down her throat. She felt water pour from her lips and into the bath, finally allowing her to gulp air into her shriveling lungs. Her head spun like a top as she fumbled with hand for the plug, tugging with what little strength she could muster and letting the water out. As the tub drained so did her thoughts; the filthy, dark, scary things slinking through the drain and away from her, leaving her in the aftermath of having to realize what she'd been about to do. For the first time in a long time, as long as she could remember, she regretted it. She regretted trying to kill herself. But as quickly as the thought came it left her, in its place she thought of all the reasons she should've just inhaled the water. Why had she given in so easily? She should've just ended it, should've done so to at least lift the burden of her existence from her foster family's shoulders. How could she be so selfish as to stop herself? She was just doing so for her own curiosity, she decided, her own weakness. She hated herself more in that moment than she ever had before. She was a disease worse than cancer, she was a plague, she only caused misery and stress and sadness wherever she went. As she hacked and wretched, her empty stomach flipping more than an olympic acrobat, she struggled to swallow enough of the oxygen her body so selfishly desired.

As the tub emptied she shakily shoved herself up and out, trying desperately to get away from the freshly terrible memory she'd just created. She threw herself to the counter, blinking water from her lashes and shoving her wet locks back ferociously while she fumbled for the towel. She wrapped it around her shoulders and had the wild urge to bolt down the hall to Kellin and Katelynne's room. What she planned for them to do she didn't know, they couldn't take away her killer cravings and many maddening mistakes, she wasn't a toy that needed glue to fix... she was damaged from the inside out. She also felt incredibly unworthy of their aid, she wanted to pack her meager belongings together and disappear before they wasted anymore time on her undeserving self. She hitched the towel up under her arms, folding them across her chest to hold it up as she thudded into her room and to the stack of clean clothes from Kellin's laundry trip on her behalf. She plucked up a pair of underwear from the now half-empty packet Kate'd bought, not wanting to have to dig through the washed clothes to find a pair, and pulled them on, throwing on the brown t-shirt she'd bought in the Men's Big and Tall section of a department store expressly so that she could use their bathroom (her mother'd dragged her there after a meal and she had no other choice but to empty out in their restroom, which was only available to costumers).

She rubbed the towel over her hair and tossed it to the bathroom floor, yanking a brush through her tangles as she scudded out her room and down the hall, not fully knowing where she was going but she'd just felt like the walls of that room were closing in on her and had to get away. She found herself in the kitchen, to her surprise, but didn't know why. Her stomach felt empty but that was okay, it was great even, but she'd just been drawn here anyway. She set the brush on the counter, deciding to get a glass of water, but once she'd plucked a glass from the cupboard and had it held in the refrigerator's in-door water dispenser she suddenly felt water in her lungs. It wasn't actually there, she knew, just a left over feeling from earlier, but the feeling of drowning on her feet surprised her so much that she jolted back from the fridge and felt the glass slip from her fingers. It was like that moment in a dream where you feel as if you have no strength, you attempt to punch something and you cannot even close your fist or you're running but no matter how hard you try you can't reach your destination. She couldn't make her hand grip the glass or catch it, she was frozen while she gasped for air. As the glass fell in semi-slow-motion so did Rowan's body, they hit the floor at the same time. The sounds of impact were very different, the delicate tinkering chimes of a shattering glass upon smooth marble rivaling the thud of Rowan's light weight crumpling, the rattling of her ever-exposed bones against one another with the fall. The combined sounds must've alerted someone, much to Rowan's dismay, as she heard a sleepy voice call out her name followed by thundering footfalls.

Rowan panicked, trying desperately to breathe calmly through the distress, stop the tears she felt threatening to fall, and use her hands to sweep together as much of the glass shards as she could. She absently felt the prickling of glass dust and splinters digging into her palms but she pushed that feeling aside, crawling on her bare knees to the trashcan and releasing a bunch of the debris. It was as she clambered back to the heart of the mess that Kellin's body slammed into the room and against the doorframe, clad in a pair of loose sweat pants and white t-shirt that advertised something called 'Feel This' in red-lettering, his eyes wide and hair wild. His mouth hung open as he gazed at her for a moment, clearly fighting to process the sight before him through the fog of sleep.

Rowan tried to wipe the sweat from her forehead away but found her hands to be drizzled with ruby liquid that reminded her of the residue of having eaten raspberries when she was only five or so. It was summer and they'd taken a road trip, which was rare, to a little farm up North where her mother's friend lived. It was at a time when her father had left them again, only to return months later in need of a roof and money with the threat of his many guns to ensure him room and board. The two women had gossiped as they stretched out on beach-chairs beside the lake, totally forgetting Rowan's existence. She supposed other little girls would've cried but even at that young age she'd been used to it already and took advantage of the days when her mother's back was turned, she'd run away from the house where they'd left her inside and to the berry fields. She'd furiously tugged tiny fistfuls of berries free and sat there eating them. She was nearly killed by a Cottonmouth snake slithering through the vines, she would've been dinner for the creature had she not run away before it'd seen her. She hadn't felt scared at all. That may've been the first day she realized she wouldn't really have cared much if the snake had killed her. As she got back to the house she ran to the little room they'd abandoned her in, her heart pounding, and listened carefully as they came in. Her mother'd laughed at something her friend had said, a sound that was so odd to Rowan that the little girl'd almost screamed in fear, until their eyes found Rowan. Her mother gripped her little arm till her feet left the floor and carried her by it to the small, purple guest bathroom. She'd forcefully thrown a towel at the little girl who had yet to shed a tear, calling her child an ungrateful liar among other things and left Rowan to see herself in the mirror, discovering the berries had stained her childishly-chubby cheeks and teensy teeth and two-sizes-too-large overalls and ratty shirt and scratched up palms... this ugly, gruesome crimson color. And as Rowan looked at her hands now, having been found disobeying, she felt the same waves of fear, pain, and hurt bettering her insides.

It wasn't until Kellin's hands folded around her shoulders and shook her that she came back to the present. She locked gazes with him briefly before subsiding into mercilessly forceful sobs of guilt and terror as she collapsed against him.

He looked beyond shellshocked, but didn't protest as her tears fell on his collarbone and her body shook with the force of her cries. She sobered up, sniffling and wiping her face with the backs of her hands as she pulled away from him. She saw that she'd unintentionally gripped handfuls of his shirt, desperate for something to ground her and keep her close to reality, and had ruined yet another of his shirts with bloody handprints. He either didn't notice or didn't care because his gaze stayed calm and level as she curled into his lap, selfishly abandoning the knowledge that she didn't deserve his comfort and accepting the innocuous energy he put off as he rubbed circles between her shoulder blades.

Kellin tried to focus but was distracted by the fact that he could more easily count the discs in her spine today than he could only a few days before. She was declining and it petrified him. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to talk, cringing a bit as his voice came out scratchy and hitched in odd ways yet also managing to sound gravely, "What happened, Ro? What's wrong?"

She didn't answer at first but he didn't press her, for which she was intensely grateful. She finally drew in a shaky breath, making sure she felt it reach all the way to the bottom of her lungs, ensuring her drowning episode had only been in her head, before speaking. Her own voice was low and raspy, evidence of her earlier and recent coughing attacks, but soft nevertheless. "I– I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry."

He wasn't sure what she was apologizing for, it was only a glass after all. "It's no big deal, Rowan, just a cup. Nothing to worry yourself over. Just take deep breaths."

She did as he instructed, taking slow and steadying breaths, ignoring the implication of innocence that she knew she should dispute. She just shook her head, tucking her it into the crook at the base of his neck and laying her cheek against his tattooed collarbone. He kept up a string of comforting gestures: rubbing her back, rubbing her arm, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly, running his fingers through her damp hair. He took note of the fact that she smelled and looked clean, not to mention she'd finally relinquished her death-grip on the Anthem shirt she clung to, a brown one taking its place. She smelled of his shampoo, Kate's soap, and their household detergent, little pieces of himself and his wife and their home were now part of Rowan. He couldn't help it, his heart swelling with the knowledge that she was part of his family as it was a part of her. But just as quickly that benevolent thought was shoved aside, replaced with a more pressing concern.

"Rowan, did you bathe alone?" She stiffened, going rigid all over. He didn't stop holding her or lacing his fingers through her curls, letting her know he wasn't angry, per se, just concerned. He realized she wasn't going to answer if she didn't think she had to, "You need to tell me, Ro." She nodded against him, a tiny movement he might've missed if he hadn't already become so accustomed to her often reserved ways. "When?"

"A little while ago." She whispered, her voice shaking with her fear.

"You know that's against the rules." He had to say it out loud, to make sure they both understood that she'd endangered herself. She didn't respond but he hadn't expected her to, what was there to say? "We..." He took a deep breath himself, "we've got to be on the same team, Rowan. We've got to stick together. I understand I'll never know every detail of what it's like to live as you have so I'll never really get it but even though I can't empathize I can sympathize. And I'm here. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm not going anywhere. But I need you to talk to me, be open with me, trust me for this to work. I'm here to help you, but you've got to want it too."

She was quiet a moment before she mustered up the gall to speak her mind as she knew she needed to. "I know. I didn't mean what I said yesterday, I do want to get better. But you have to understand that it terrifies me, just the same. This is all I've ever known. It's the only way I know how to function... I'm so scared. I'm scared..." A strange word had been inches away from rolling of her tongue, daddy. She shivered at the thought of saying it, of making herself that vulnerable, instead pushing on with her original thought. "I'm terrified. It's in every cell, every breath, every single thought. I don't know how to shake it so I just handle it how I always have. I remember how I felt before you showed up, before you snuck your way in and everything changed. I was numb. All the time. I didn't feel anything. Then, all of a sudden I feel everything. To its highest degree. It makes me so fucking scared but at the same time it's a sort of high. I'm scared to get too used to it because the idea of withdrawing from you is even more terrifying than the idea of never having met you in the first place. I'm sorry for all the times I fuck up but I can't promise to stop because I don't know how not to be like this. You shouldn't even waste your time on me but the idea of you grasping that enough to turn your back as you should sounds more painful than a million razor blades. I want to go with you because I can't bear the thought of being without you and therefore without feeling or emotion. I know that the second I lose you the force of everything I've been shoving aside is going to hit me like a mac-truck...."

She was rambling and in the midst of it she'd said a lot of things she hated herself for voicing. Now she'd really done herself in, he knew her weaknesses and knew just how undeserving she was. She was dead meat. She just threw a hand to her mouth to stifle any further damaging words from falling out, desperately trying to figure out how she could run without being caught or make him magically forget everything she'd said. She was coming up short with ideas for either scenario. She half expected him to stand up and walk away and the other half was begging him to do so. But he didn't seem to have that in mind, he just pulled her tighter to himself and began slowly rocking them side to side and back and forth. It was so intensely calming, something Rowan couldn't remember ever experiencing before. She wondered if this was what made babies stop crying. She saw parents rock their children when they wept and had always found it odd that the baby almost always ceased their tears. Now it wasn't such a mystery, she felt the urge to just fall asleep she was so relaxed. She'd almost totally forgotten her woes until Kellin finally spoke again.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'm right here. Always will be. I'll do whatever it takes." She didn't speak, nor did he. They lapsed into another bout of peaceful silence before Kellin began to shift a bit, somehow managing to keep Rowan cradled to his chest as he stood. He walked them over to the kitchen sink and say her on the counter, turning on a cool tap and grabbing a wad of paper towels. He wet the towels and began to dab at the torn flesh or her palms, "How'd this happen?"

Rowan shrugged, not really ready to go into the whole thing just yet. Kellin didn't press her, just continued to clean up her hands. Once they were relatively clean of blood he had to try to pull out the few remaining shards. Kellin took a deep breath, as did Rowan, and nodded at her before reaching for her hands again and tugging out four sizable chunks of glass and tossing them into the garbage can.

Once they'd finished Kellin looked Rowan dead in her watery eyes, "We're gonna get through this, alright?" Rowan nodded. She'd heard him say suck on many occasions but the words never lost their weight, they always felt strong and loving and hopeful. "You still tired?" Rowan shrugged again. "C'mon." He didn't wait for a response, lifting her up and letting her sit on his hip. He might be new to parenting a teen but he knew she'd never admit how tired she really was, as well as he knew she was exhausted. She laid her head in his shoulder once more as he carried her down the hall, knowing he'd have to deal with the mess he left behind eventually. As he came into her room he flicked on the light, noticing muddy tracks from the bed to the bathroom and damp print leading from there to the hall. Another mess he'd deal with later. He used his free arm to scoop up the dirty towels he'd set out red her to sleep on and toss them to the corner of the room, pulling back the covers and letting Rowan crawl beneath them. He tugged then up the her chin and brushed her wet locks back with a sigh. 'What am I gonna do with you, little one?'

Rowan almost let her eyes flutter shut but then felt the sudden absence of company. She flicked her eyes wide open to see Kellin turning to leave. "Wait!" She could hear her voice as if through a phone, distant and crackling, "Please." She whimpered unintentionally, "Please don't leave me alone."

Kellin didn't appear to question the fact that she'd suddenly turned into an oversized four year old, just giving her a half smile and walking back her way. He sat beside her, his new typical place, and settled in. He hummed a bit of a tune Rowan felt familiar with and before either of them realized it he'd slunk down so that they were laying side-by-side. Kellin's presence was like a sort of magnet to Rowan. He exuded such a sense of comfort that she was drawn to him, the closer she got the more cared-for she felt. She needed that and therefore she moved to lay her head on his chest, her healing palm on his stomach. It reminded her of being in the PICU that night, the first night she'd felt comfortable and cared for, her head on Kellin's chest as he sang under his breath in a way that Rowan wondered if he even noticed he was singing.

Rowan felt her lids grow heavy but fought it, equally scared to sleep for fear of missing this moment of peace and terrified to face her nightmares again. "Kellin," she mumbled sleepily, desperate to stay awake, "Why was I all muddy?"

"I-" Kellin hesitated, leaning towards the notion that she really should just sleep now but knowing better than to keep things from Rowan when it concerned her so, "I think you had a night terror." Rowan felt like a weight pressed down on her chest, she'd hoped to be rid of those now that she was in such a safe atmosphere daily.

"Oh." She muttered, "Sorry."

"Why?" He couldn't stop himself from asking, it was something he'd been curious about for a while, "Why are you sorry? You apologize all the time for things that you don't need to apologize for."

"So–" She had to cut herself off, nearly laughing at herself as she'd been about to apologize for apologizing too often. "I don't know. It's the way I was brought up, I suppose. Everything was my fault even if it wasn't. If that even makes sense."

Kellin found it fascinating that it'd only been a few weeks he'd gotten to know Rowan and he could already understand her mumbled speech that he was sure a stranger couldn't hope to decipher. "But it's not. Your fault I mean. It almost never is and never was, you know that now right?" She half nodded half shrugged against his side, "From here on out you don't have to feel like that."

"I can't guarantee I won't say sorry a lot still." He chuckled at that, it reverberated through him and against her cheek, making her crack a small smile she hadn't known she could muster up in such a state.

"I forgive you in advance then." He replied, amusement still clear in his tone. They fell quiet again, only broken by Kellin's subconscious humming. It was odd to Rowan just how much comfort that unconscious gesture of care brought her. She was so accustomed and attached to his voice that she wondered how she ever lived without it. His sounds slowly became drawn out and a bit off beat, and suddenly it was quiet altogether, the silence no longer as scary to Rowan's groggy ears.

She wavered on the brink of sleep, tempted by its tantalizing draw but unable to fall into its depths no matter how hard she tried. She was awake now, nothing to do about it. It was a bit of a relief to her, as she'd previously been terrified of what may come to her eyes behind closed lids. Now, though, she was stuck with a sleeping Kellin and nothing to entertain herself. Despite what she told Kellin of fearing the numbness, a small part of her missed the days when she was in so much emotional pain that she felt nothing at all, it made moments like these perfectly unattainable. Moments where her thoughts moved a million miles a minute and left her spinning in their wake, trying to figure out what to think or feel or do. She wasn't sure which was a better state to be in: subdued agony so powerful she couldn't tell immense pain from no feeling at all, or this brand new sense of perpetual presentness that made her every emotion blast at its highest volume?

She settled against the man who was fast becoming her only constant: Kellin. Her hand rose and fell with his stomach as his even breaths remained the only sign he was alive. As she lent back to look at him she saw, with a sharp twist in her stomach, that Kellin didn't look today as he did in the pictures lining the halls. Now his cheeks were a little more sunk-in, his lips were dry and seemed –even as they were, slightly open in a sleepy pout– thinner, his eyes were ringed with purple shadows that reminded her too much of her own gaunt reflection. She noted, with a small sense of comfort, that he still looked better off today than he had the first day she'd met him. He'd had this look of bone-deep sadness back then that wasn't so clearly seen nowadays. Still, though, he was unhealthy looking, much like herself, and Rowan's stomach flipped again at the re-realization that she was a large part of the cause for his current stress. It made her feel nauseous, though she had eaten nothing to toss out.

Asleep Kellin looked much older than he did awake. In this dozy state his constant air of youth and passion and amusement and love couldn't be seen in his eyes, or pouring from his every word as it almost always did when he was awake. Instead the thin lines by his eyes, so often lost amongst those present when his eyes crinkled with a smile, that reminded her of cracks in drying paint told a different story, one of wear and tear. His lips didn't twitch into a smirk with some catty remark fired in response to her own dry humor, they fell open as if crying out for aid in his slumber. His tattoos didn't stand out, livid works of art on his skin that told the story of him, they seemed to dull and blend until they were just blotches that could be mistaken for bruises. His hair, long now since he hadn't taken a moment for himself to have it trimmed, was disheveled and fell into his face and splayed out on the pillow reminding Rowan of thin trickles of blood on pavement as it seeped away from a cracked skull on the screen in some crime drama. One of his hands laid on Rowan's shoulder where he'd been toying with her drenched curls before passing out, the other was on his stomach, right next to where her hand lay. Rowan moved hers to lay it atop his, feeling instantly less worried as she traced the K tattoo on his knuckle and ran the tips of her fingers over his wedding ring. She forced herself to focus on his hand, not allowing herself anymore gazes at his worn down appearance.

She sighed, picking up where he'd left off, humming lowly to herself if for no other reason then just to make noise. She wasn't sure the name of the song but felt as though she'd heard it before, though she couldn't place where exactly. She let the sound of her own tune drown out thoughts of what would come when the sun rose.

---

Kellin felt a bump into his shoulder, trying to rouse him awake, but attempted to ignore it. As much as he wanted to sleep, though, it seemed he was wanted to be conscious so, with a sigh of defeat, he tried to force his eyes open. He blinked in the sudden light, noticing what felt like an ice pack against his skin had been only Rowan's hand as she nudged him. He grinned drowsily at her as he rubbed his eyes and forced himself to sit up. His back ached oddly and he stretched a bit to ease it as Rowan seemed to stare blankly at him.

"What's up, Ro?" He asked, swallowing to try to wet his dry, scratchy throat.

"Kate asked me to come get you." She told him. It was only then that Kellin noticed Rowan's hair was now dry and fell over the shoulders of her navy blue sweatshirt that hung to her knees, her skinny legs clad in white tights that were only just opaque enough that you couldn't quite distinguish the yellowing blotches and various scars that were reminders of the life she'd escaped.

Kellin offered her another bleary smile, nodding and shoving himself to stand. He cracked his back and neck, muttering, "Fuck me."

Rowan grinned a bit at his choice of curses, always finding his blatant language amusing seeing as she'd been raised in a world where words were weapons; whereas with Kellin they only ever seemed to be a way to say what it was he was thinking, whatever that was. Kellin looked over at her briefly, noticing the violet shadows resting beneath her eyes. Rowan felt his gaze on her face, hurrying to spin and walk towards the kitchen in hopes of distracting him from paying too much attention to her appearance. "She's making breakfast."

Kellin followed Rowan peacefully, trying to be nonchalant, "Sleep okay?"

Rowan nodded, "Yeah, thanks. You?"

'Lie.' He knew better, she looked dead on her feet, like a zombie you saw on Walking Dead. "Great." Fine, so maybe he'd lied as well but he did it for her benefit. In actuality he hadn't gotten much good rest. He'd had various nightmares of torturous situations all night but never once had the reprieve of waking, just enduring this constant string of horrific visions.
You might ask why he was oh so concerned? Because of what he knew had to happen today, that's why. Not to mention the fact that he still hadn't figured out how to tell her.

"Morning, sleepyheads." Katelynne called as her husband and their foster daughter came into view, placing two plates with waffles and fruit topping on the bar-top.

"Morning, baby." Kellin mumbled, still raspy with sleepy, stumbling behind the counter to wrap his arms around her waist from behind, kissing the back of her bare neck, her hair gone completely from the treatment and her head only covered by a cream colored beanie. She leaned into the embrace, graciously accepting his caring caresses, the near-constant nausea soothing slightly as his fingers traced patterns idly on her stomach through her sleep-shirt.
Rowan giggled, unable to help herself from finding them adorable.

Kellin smirked, waking a bit more with each moment in the crisp, cold air. "You ship it?"

Rowan's expression grew confused, "Huh?"

Katelynne and Kellin chuckled a bit, Kellin taking a breath, kissing his wife's cheek, and coming to sit beside Rowan at the bar stools. "Another time."

"We've got to get a move on, Kell you've got to drop me at my parents' before the appointment, it's at ten sharp." Katelynne gave Kellin a slightly-teasing, slightly-stern look before placing the milk and leftover batter back into the fridge.

Rowan, chewing a small bit of dry waffle thoroughly, turned to Kellin, "Appointment?"

Kellin swallowed hard, catching Katelynne's concerned expression clearly: You haven't told her? He cleared his throat unnecessarily, "Yeah. At the hospital."

"For you?" She turned to Katelynne, looking for some clarification. Kellin shot Katelynne a panicked look of his own: Don't say anything!

"No. For you." was all Kate said, turning quickly to the sink as she washed her hands and toweled them off, "I'm going to get ready. Hurry it up you two." She dropped the hand-towel back onto the counter before rounding it. As she passed, she dropped a kiss to Kellin's cheek and one to the back of Rowan's messy bed-head, cutting Kellin another look over the girl's shoulder: You tell her or I will.

Kellin tried to look away without responding but knew she'd make good on the threat, as she should. She was right, Rowan deserved to know. He just couldn't stand the thought of her reaction, looking at him with anger or fear, something horrible he'd caused her to feel, it'd all be his fault. He was a failure and she'd have to pay for it. They ate in silence, Kellin too lost in his head to make conversation and Rowan preferring silence anyway. By the time they'd finished, Rowan had eaten nearly half of her waffle and had this sort of smug look on her face as she gazed at the remaining half, as if she were telling the meal cockily that she'd conquered it. Kellin woke enough to take her plate to the disposal and congratulate her on the success.

They went first to Rowan's room, allowing her to collect her bag and slide her feet into her beat-up, partially-duct-taped converse, before going back to the living area. Katelynne was on the couch, organizing a bag of things for her day with her parents and Copeland. She caught Rowan needing somewhere to go while Kellin dressed and called her over to help pack. Kellin hurried down the hall, kicking off his sweat pants while simultaneously tugging his freshly-filthy Feel This tour shirt over his head, tossing both into the corner of his and Kate's bedroom. He snagged a clean pair of jeans, boxers, and a worn-in Wonder Years tee he'd swiped from someone, Matty he thought, before stepping into a rushed shower, knowing he'd only showered the night before but finding any excuse for a minute of silence that didn't feel pressured with the knowledge of what he had yet to say.

Meanwhile, the ever-chilled-air surrounding Rowan and Katelynne was stiff with unspoken words on both sides. Katelynne knowing Rowan needed to know what lay ahead today and not trusting her husband's over-caring nature to tell her; Rowan desperate to tell someone –anyone but Kellin– how scared she was about the prospect of this tour, not to say she didn't want to go, but she was most definitely unprepared and knew full well that no matter how much she was told she'd still be ill-equipped for the reality she was to face, but knowing that if the Quinn's continued to be as adamant as they were about her staying here she'd need to brave this part of Kellin's life sooner or later. Still, it was quiet. Rowan staring blankly at the muted TV that was turned on to what looked like a QVC-type channel and Katelynne unpacking, looking at each item, and repacking the same things again into the bags she planned to take. It felt like hours later, but was only actually a quarter of an hour or so, that Kellin reemerged. It was like someone flipped a switch, as soon as he breezed through the hall and into the living, Ro and Kate felt themselves sort of 'awaken', suddenly tripping over each others words and feet as the three hurried to the car.

The ride was filled with music, a mix from Kellin's iPhone, and the device's owner chatting animatedly about nothing in particular. To Rowan his words were lost, only allowing herself a moment of peace just listening to the sound of his voice as her heavy eyes drooped closed, her long eyelashes brushing her sunken cheeks and making her lids –darkened with exhaustion and a decade of unhealthy treatment– highlight a faint scar that ran from the thin side of her right eye-brow upwards where it disappeared into her hairline. Katelynne noticed it for the first time as she shot the girl pained looks over her shoulder every other second, also ignoring her husband's rambling as she knew it was for no other reason than to stave off any awkward silence. Kellin only stopped gabbing when he caught sight of Rowan sleeping in the backseat by way of his rearview mirror, taking a hugely deep breath as he was finally able to stop talking.

"Why didn't you tell her?" Katelynne hissed, sending her husband a look that balanced between worried and angry.

"I– It's– But–" Kellin just heaved another sigh, knowing there was no real answer to give when he couldn't even understand it himself, "I have no idea." Flicking his eyes to catch another peek at Rowan's seemingly restful slumber, Kellin ran one hand through his drying locks, keeping the other on the wheel,
"I guess I was scared of her reaction. I... I don't think I could handle the idea of her looking at me the way she looks when she thinks about her mom or Scott. I couldn't bare the idea of having her upset with me or thinking she couldn't trust me. Well, guess that wasn't very thought out, huh? 'Cause now I've really fucked myself over. I can't even imagine how she'll look at me when she finds out I knew and didn't tell her."

Katelynne stretched her hand across to set it on his thigh, tracing simple patterns into his black skinny jeans in a comforting way, all traces of anger vanishing at the sight of her husband so distraught. "Babe, it'll be okay. I mean, I'm not promising it'll be sunshine and daisies, but you have a bond with her. Something I don't expect can be broken that easily. Alright? You've got to trust that. And you've got to trust her. She might be upset, pissed off, or scared but whatever it is you've got to do what is best for her in the long-run. Right?" Kellin didn't really make any move to respond, in confirmation or denial alike, "I love you."

Finally he seemed to un-freeze, slumping his shoulders slightly in defeat, nodding at her earlier sentiment before speaking his answer to her last words. "I love you, too."

Kellin's hand dropped from yanking on his hair to cover his wife's, sliding his under hers and intertwining their fingers so that he could feel the cool metal of her wedding and engagement rings between their grasp. Katelynne lent back into her seat a bit, enjoying the sensation of Kellin's thumb smoothing circles into the back her her hand, before talking again, continuing their earlier conversation on despite the break, "You love Ro, too."

Kellin didn't deny it, it was true, but he was stunned into silence by the shock of finally having it out loud and in the universe. Kellin had accepted long ago that he loved Rowan as if she were his own, as much as he loved Copeland and Kate's two sons, with the kind of love he'd never even known was possible since he'd never witnessed first-hand a father's love. He'd even told Rowan so the day before, not knowing she'd been asleep. But there was something different about knowing others could see it as plainly in him without his need of verbal admittance, something that solidified the strength of his care. He cut a sidelong glance to Kate, seeing her to be grinning confidently and tranquilly back at him as though she already knew she was right. She was, and they both knew that. "Yeah, I do."

Katelynne took her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing nervously on her lipstick as if it would give her the answers to the universe, before giving Kellin's hand a tight squeeze and closing her eyes a bit, "Me too, honey."

Kellin's full nerves for the day ahead couldn't be completely quelled but knowing that they shared this common love for the health and happiness of the little girl did help the butterflies subside a bit.

"Can we turn the air up a little? I feel a bit queasy." Katelynne asked calmly, as relaxed as ever in her conviction, never not the sane one. Kellin loved her for it, she was as much his rock as he was hers, but on days like today it made his worry twice as strong to think that very soon he wouldn't be there every minute to make sure she was honest with how she felt. Kellin obeyed, having to release her hand to flip the AC on high, despite the fact that it was early morning and the sun had yet to really heat the world. The rest of the ride was quiet, Kellin's music the only interruption.

Once they arrived, Katelynne hushed Kellin's insistence about helping her to the door, kissing his cheek and asking that he pop the trunk. Kate's father strode out and helped his daughter with her bags, though they were small any weight to carry was a great feat for Kate at the moment. Kate's mother hung back by the door, Cope on her hip as his baby bounced and waved at her parents. Kellin had this odd flash of himself at the trunk, helping a brunette with her bags while the girl complained about being babied, Katelynne with a full head of greying hair standing at the door with a black haired baby boy on her side, and the brunette girl–Rowan–'s husband waiting in the car. He blinked, the scene disappearing as quickly as it'd come, and refocused on smiling back at Cope, blowing her and her mother a kiss, and waving toward his In-Laws before locking the car and driving off, still careful not to go too fast or turn too sharp for fear of waking Rowan.

Upon arrival at the hospital Kellin's palms began to dew with sweat, meaning he had to scrub them on his jeans occasionally to keep a grip on the steering wheel as he parked. Once stopped his phone dinged with a text, Kate asking if they'd arrived safely. He replied quickly but then saw the time: 9:57AM. "Shit." He turned around, hoping to see Rowan waking but she was still out cold. In fact, she was sleeping so heavily that Kellin was shot back to the horrific days of sitting by her bedside in the hospital. "Ro... Rowan. Get up, kiddo, we gotta go."

She hummed, needing a little more prodding before finally raising up a bit, rubbing her bleary eyes, "What's wrong? Where are we? Where's Kate?"

"We're here, already dropped her off while you were asleep." Kellin's stomach was incredibly squirmy, making him feel close to nausea himself. "We're gonna be late, c'mon."

She rolled forward, stretching as far as she could in the small space, with only a few little gasps of surprise or pain as she involuntarily tugged at her healing wounds or ages old bruises. Then, without questioning him further, she popped open her door and began to climb out. Kellin only just now realized that, at some point in their time together, she'd stopped questioning his intentions... she'd begun to truly trust him. And now, thanks to his own fear and idiocy, he might be about to shatter whatever slivers of reliability he'd built in her eyes. He followed her, rushing out of the car and locking it over his shoulder as he raced round to her side of the car. She was still sleepily fluttering her eyes a bit and took Kellin's outstretched hand without hesitation, following his lead and leaning on his arm ever so slightly as they crossed the lot and were met with –for what seemed the thousandth time to Rowan– the sliding glass doors of the hospital.

"What're we here for?" Rowan mumbled, a lifetime of bone-deep exhaustion weighing heavier on her shoulders today than it ever had before. Why today she wasn't sure but for whatever reason she felt particularly drained just now.

Kellin swallowed thickly, feeling as though his throat were constricting uncomfortably. As they reached the small waiting area near the front information desk he finally had enough, deciding it was now or never. He stopped, making Rowan cease as well, and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye. "Rowan, I need you to stay calm and collected, okay? You're a brave girl with all you've been through and I need you to keep that up now, alright?" Rowan's eyes were no longer glassy with sleep but wide-open and alight with a mixture of fear and confusion, causing her look to shift frequently toward the doors for an escape. Kellin wrapped his hands around her biceps, managing to regain her attention and keep her firmly planted there, "It's going to be okay. But I've been meaning to tell you something. It's kinda hard for me to do, but it has to be done–"

"Ah, Mr. Bostwick." A male's voice cut cleanly through the taught atmosphere surrounding Kellin and Rowan, making both of their uncomfortable gazes switch over to see Matthew standing a yard away, arms folded over his chest in a cocky manner, "And Rowan."

"Fuck off." Rowan snapped, her voice suddenly sounded choked and she figured it might've been fear of what Kellin had meant to tell her. Her eyes flew right back to meet her foster father's– trying desperately to asses his thoughts but, much to her dismay, he'd wiped his face clear of any information, seeming only to have a dulled spark in his eyes that told Rowan he'd lost whatever nerve he'd worked up to be able to tell her this mystery thing.

"I'm here to lead you up. C'mon." Matt spun around, walking off without making sure they actually followed. Rowan felt a guttural growl rumble her chest at his attitude, she hated him with all the energy she had in her at the moment, well what of it was left after Kellin's mini-speech zapped her. Kellin seemed to realize she wasn't going to move without force and, as much as he hated Matt on her behalf, he knew they had to follow the jerk for Rowan's benefit. Kellin stood and extended his hand to her again, this time Rowan didn't take it immediately but looked up at Kellin with an expression between panic and anger. He sighed, reaching down to just take her hand whether she liked it or not and tugged her along softly.

Rowan did as she was meant, but her mind was still focused solely on what Kellin'd said. Or, better yet, what he hadn't yet said. What was he about to tell her? What was so disturbing that he'd feared she'd fall apart or run away? She was yanked back into reality as they walked off the elevator and toward the all-too-familiar PICU doors. Kellin's grip on her hand tightened infinitesimally, letting her know he was no more comfortable with whatever was happening than she was. Matt strutted confidently, leading them to the front desk where he gathered up a folder so thick it looked more like a novel or encyclopedia... Rowan's folder.

Once they'd been taken to a small office near the back and told –none too kindly– to sit, Matt thumped the folder onto the desk and slunk out the door, leaving Rowan and Kellin in a tense silence. Kellin opened his mouth a handful of times, prepared to speak, but came up short on what exactly to say, resulting in him snapping his lips shut, resembling a dying fish flopping on the dock. When the door opened both jumped in surprise at the sudden movement and turned to see Melissa, the kind nurse Rowan had been given upon her last time in this wing of the hospital, tugging in a small metal tray on a pole and wheels, followed by Ms. Greene and Dr. Leslie.

"Kellin, Rowan." Dr. Leslie nodded toward them both, having not seen either since his visits to Rowan's ICU room during her most recent stay. Ms. Greene nodded their way as well, an unspoken greeting, and Melissa offered both a kind, hesitant smile. "So, are we ready?" Kellin's heart skipped a beat, noticing Rowan's look of mingled confusion and concern. "Now," the doctor went on, pulling up a rolling stool toward their chairs and dragging the tray behind him, Melissa following his lead but staying stood a few feet away, letting Ms. Greene take a seat in one of the other chairs in the room, "I know this may seem a little overwhelming, but it's what's best and at the end of the day that is what matters, right?" Rowan didn't make any sign of agreement but the doctor didn't seem surprised by it. He was busy opening a box about the size of his forearm, extracting a handful of syringes, then a small vial no taller than a couple inches and setting it on the tray as well. "This is a bottle of saline, it's what we'll use for practice. Rowan you can just watch, we are going to focus on Kellin first."

Dr. Leslie was wiping the top of the vial off with an alcohol swab, sending a wash of the sterile smell through the small room, as Rowan finally opened her mouth. "Watch what?"

Dr. Leslie's eyes widened and he set the swab down, looking to Kellin, the latter of whom was feeling as if his lungs were full of ice. He coughed, giving the doctor an expression he hoped conveyed his apologies and concern, "I haven't exactly had the... time... to tell her yet."

Rowan narrowed her eyes at her guardian, switching her accusatory gaze between Kellin and the surprised staff. "To tell me what, exactly?" She hoped her voice didn't sound as panicked to them as it had to her own ears.

The doctor understood Kellin couldn't stomach the conversation and therefore took it upon himself to explain, still not easing Kellin's nerves. "Rowan, as I understand it you still aren't able or willing to keep down food, correct?" Rowan didn't seem to want to comply with his quiz but was too curious to stay silent, finally giving him a terse nod, "That being the case, you are still in need of medication, but oral dosage isn't a viable option. Therefore we've moved on to Plan B. Injections. Do you understand?"

The entire room fell silent, all seeming to await her reaction, and the tension was too thick to cut with the sharpest of knives. Kellin was holding his breath, preparing himself for her fury to turn on him, her inevitable outburst of pure rage, but what came instead broke his heart much more than any shout could. Her shoulders seemed to slump forward, attempting to curl in on herself, and her legs drew up to her chest, burying her face in her tights and shaking her head. She rocked herself back and forth, seemingly sobbing but she never made a sound, and Kellin knew her well enough to know she wouldn't dare cry so publicly, however she was definitely having some sort of breakdown. "No. No. No, please, no." She murmured, barely audible at all.

"Rowan," Dr. Leslie began in a kind voice, "I'm going to need you to take a few deep breaths and watch as I teach Kellin." She didn't move. "I see you're upset, and I understand that as well, but there is no other option. Best to get this over with, okay?" She didn't confirm but her face peeked up over her bony knees to reveal her eyes wide and mouth set into a flat line. "Thank you. Now," Kellin had a hard time ripping his eyes off her but he needed to pay attention as well, so he refocused as the doctor began uncapping the syringe and prepping it, "you are going to pump the plunger twice, but make sure you don't twist it, and then draw the same amount of air into the syringe that you'll be removing in medication from the vial." Kellin watched as the doctor drew 50mL of air into the plastic tube marked with numbers, then stuck the needle into the top of the vial, pushing the air in before drawing 50mL of salt water out and pulling the vial back off the needle while still holding the syringe upwards. Kellin tried hard to memorize every step but he was thoroughly distracted and was sure he'd need to be taught again. "You can see there are what we call Champagne Bubbles in the syringe now, so next you flick it a couple times and see that the little bubbles gravitate upwards." Pump, push, draw, remove, tap... Kellin was taking mental notes as Dr. Leslie went on, "Now you push the plunger to squirt liquid and bubbles out the top and once you see it's pretty much air-free you're ready." Rowan stiffened, Kellin saw from the corner of his eye but for her sake Kellin forced himself to stay calm. He'd dealt with pain in his life, and plenty of needles as evidenced by the ink decorating a fair amount of his skin, but it's everyone's knee-jerk reaction to become nervous at the thought of a sharp stick of metal penetrating deeper than your average tattoo pen, though none of that occurred to Kellin. His sole worry was for the child sat beside him, almost no regard at all for his own pain, only for the fact that if the needle did hurt him he was sure he'd never be able to do the same to her, no matter the benefit. "Watch here." They did, seeing Dr. Leslie pierce the needle through the rubbery exterior of a stress-ball at a direct 90 degree angle in a quick motion, like throwing a dart at a dartboard, push less than a drop of the liquid in, and remove the syringe just as smoothly. "Now, your turn Kellin." Kellin was careful to take a deep breath and seem totally at ease on the outside, taking the alcohol swab Melissa offered him, standing up and tugging his shirt up to tuck under his chin, and wiping the skin of his stomach with the cool pad. "Kellin, you'll want to pull away or go in slowly out of instinct, but you have to focus only on the image not the feeling, understand?" Kellin held his shirt up with his left hand, nodded, and took the syringe in the other. "Rowan, you'll see it isn't all that difficult."

Kellin felt Rowan's stoic gaze on him as he rested his right wrist against his stomach beside his target, pinched up the part of skin he planned to inject, drew back his hand with the base still against his skin, and pushed the needle directly where he'd aimed. He'd had to fight the urge to suck his stomach away from the impending metal or push the needle through slower once it'd penetrated the first layer of skin, but he'd managed. He had to move his hand up the syringe with the needle still stuck into him as his other hand was preoccupied with keeping the skin pinched up, to push the plunger and release half the salt-water into his body, before finally drawing the whole object away in a less perfected way than the doctor had, accidentally causing himself a little scratch and a few drops of blood, but was assured it was fine and nothing major and expected for a first try. In fact, he was told he was better than most parents in this situation but he chalked it up to his high pain threshold and the fact that his main focus was on Rowan this entire time. They gave him another swab to clean off the blood and a cotton ball to staunch the small slice until the blood coagulated as he sat back down.

Next, the doctor said it was Rowan's turn. Now... now Kellin's heart raced. Rowan didn't move, watching as Kellin was given the task of preparation. He was taught about the medication she was being prescribed, one that would treat her depression and anxiety and other subsequent disorders, and the fact that she was to take 50mL each morning and 25mL before bed to aid the nightmares, and that they were to give it at the same times each day. His tattooed hands shook as he swiped the alcohol pad over the vial's top, pumped the syringe, drew in and pushed the right amount of air, pulled the medication into through the needle, removed the vial, tapped and ridded the thing of bubbles, and then set it down. His stomach flipped over itself as he took the fresh alcohol swab and ripped open the package, turning to his foster daughter. Her eyes were wide and to others might appear dead, lifeless, but Kellin saw the flickers of absolute terror there, forcing his heart into his throat. Rowan did as the doctor instructed and stood before Kellin's chair, lifting her sweatshirt to reveal –making Kellin's heart constrict even more– she was wearing the filthy Anthem Made shirt beneath, which she also pulled up. Beneath the layers of protective clothing lay the real Rowan, one Kellin had been faced with a few times before, as her stomach was so concave that he could see her every rib along with the various cuts, scrapes, and countless scars adorning her shredded flesh. He wasn't shocked anymore, as he had been the first few times he saw her skin, but the effect was the same every time, heart-wrenching, loving, care. He again fought to keep his expression neutral, picking a spot above the waistband of her tights that was safe and cleaning it off. They were told that shots needed to go into fattier parts of the body for less pain but there really wasn't such a place on Rowan, so the stomach was the best place; anywhere in the middle, no more less than an inch away from her belly button and no more than three or four. His palms were sweating again and he had to rub them against his jeans before picking up the syringe, pinching up what little fatty muscle there was, and taking aim. He knew it wouldn't hurt bad, he knew cause he'd just done it to his own body, but he couldn't help the part of him that was hating his own hands for what they did. Kellin's eyes flicked up to find Rowan looking straight ahead of herself, her face emotionless and her bottom lip between her teeth, and both of her small hands clutching the bottom of her clothing up tightly. Before he lost his nerve, he focused onto his target once more before pushing the needle through the skin and injecting the supposed holy-water into her body. She didn't even flinch, though Kellin knew she'd suffered worse so he wasn't all that surprised. When he drew the needle out and wiped her stomach clean of the liquid that beaded out of the injection site (as was normal) she just yanked her clothing down and sat again, never saying a word or making eye contact with any of them.

Kellin was partially relieved, she hadn't cried or screamed or thrown a fit, but he was also aware that this could be a much worse fate. This had been the very thing he'd feared most, her losing all trust in him, but in the end had he caused it to himself? Dr. Leslie congratulated them both on their success but neither felt much like celebrating, and then Ms. Greene asked to see Kellin outside the office. Kellin's gaze fell on Rowan to make sure she was safe, a million forms of apologies on the tip of his tongue, but seeing that she'd drawn her legs to her chest and folded in on herself again they all died out. He simply nodded and followed the social worker outside to stand in the hall nearby.

She faced him, her expression not quite solemn but smooth and serious in an uncomfortable way. "Kellin, there's another serious matter we need to discuss."

He wanted to scream, and he nearly did, but it came out as more of a strangled groan before he forced himself to take a deep breath, sigh, and reply. "What now?"

"I, personally, don't think this is entirely a negative thing for you. I don't believe it's something to worry yourself over." She almost smiled, but then took her own deep breath and continued, "However, it is something very serious and will require honesty and thought on yours and your wife's behalf." Kellin nodded for her to go on, almost afraid his legs would give out beneath him if one more bad thing was thrust upon them. "What with her medical conditions and her soon-coming departure... Well, we fear Rowan doesn't have much hope of finding another permanent home." Kellin almost vomited, the thought of Rowan snatched away from him, but then registered the fact that she'd just said it wasn't likely such would happen.

"How do you mean?" He prodded, was it wrong that he was a little happy that Rowan might not get adopted? He knew she needed stability but he'd never considered the idea that she might actually have to leave him, he wasn't sure he could take that. "We think, for the sake of Rowan's development and future, that she does need the sense of belonging that comes with adoption." Now Kellin felt guilty, he should want what's best for her, even if he knew that it would destroy him to give that to her. "Therefore, Mrs. Bricker and myself think it best to give you the choice here and now, before it's too difficult to do so.... Either you need to say your goodbyes to Rowan now and release her into an orphanage where she has a better chance of finding a different family..." Kellin was almost positive he was going to throw up, or pass out, or –more likely– both, "or we request that you and Katelynne decide to make her a permanent part of your family by legal adoption."

Notes

Shout Outs:
tiff
XxRaven_Marie_BlackxX
Cindii 182
sleepingwithkatie


Hey there. HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS HAVE US AT JUST OVER 3.1k?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! I LOVE YOU PEOPLE!!!

So, my issue is, I feel like this is my worst chapter yet. The beginning is my favorite part, with the nightmare and bath and Kellin, and I never like to have the ending not be my favorite part. But at the same time... I was pretty fucking excited to write that last bit! What will Kell and Kate decide?!

It gets so wordy trying to describe the workings of Ro's medications, though, so I'm sorry for that. Also, I'd like to say here and now that I am not a medical professional, though I have seen first hand the treatment of breast cancer and I personally have Type One Diabetes so needles are a part of my everyday life so this chapter is fairly realistic and factual in that respect. However, this miracle drug Rowan's given is my own Flanaxifor(TFiOS reference), meaning there is no such medication in the world today: this is a work of fiction.

Anyways, can't wait to see what's in store for them next...
And thank you for the reads and votes, they mean the world! Hope you guys liked this more than I did. Maybe leave a comment?

Love you all,
MM.