***Trigger warnings for mentions of abuse, mentions of attempted rape, and homophobia.***

Start the song. It's No Crying in Baseball by Mothers.

Tyler felt a little bit guilty checking his PO Box when his future wife knew nothing about it, but he wanted to know if Josh had written back. He wanted to know if he'd crossed Josh's boundaries or made him uncomfortable. Still, he felt guilty about how his heart leapt in his chest when he opened his PO Box to find a letter from the Franklin County Correctional Center.

He stuffed it into his coat, closed the box, locked it, and practically ran out to his car to lessen the chances of the snow falling from the sky soaking through to damage his letter. He needed to be at work in fifteen minutes, yet he couldn't help himself from tearing the envelope open as soon as he was sitting behind the wheel. There was only one page of notebook paper tucked inside, and it was folded up into three sections.

Tyler snorted when he unfolded the paper, finding a carefully drawn border of dicks of every size, shape, and colour decorating the page. Abbie clearly wasn't the only artist in the family. He read the words written out in black ink like he'd been starving for them, laughing every time he came across an "i" that had been dotted with another cartoon phallus.

TJ,

My day has not been exciting or noteworthy enough to write about (rarely is) and my favorite color is blue??? maybe??? I don't fucking know. I'm good with any color but orange. Everyone around here wears orange, and you'd be surprised how much you learn to hate a color you've worn every day for eight years. I hope this information is helpful for you in your future diagnoses of my mental health. (So rude of you to write me about my Tragic Backstory without telling me about yours by the way. The fucking nerve.)

If I had to diagnose you based on your letter, I'd say you're either a benevolent narcissist or someone with good intentions and for some reason my mailing address. I don't know how shit works on the outside, but if you were in here, you'd probably need to learn to be more of a dick if you wanted to survive. I guess you can borrow some of mine. Sounds like you're too nice for your own good.

You can't be sending letters to prisoners you don't know dude. What if I was a psychopath who showed up at your house and ate your dog or something? You're lucky you wrote to me instead of someone crazy. I'm not gonna do anything creepy. I just want to know what your favorite color is and to find out if your day was more eventful than mine. You don't have to tell me about your Tragic Backstory if you don't want to. I'll just make one up for you to give myself something to do so my day will be more noteworthy next time.

Go fuck yourself. - Josh

Tyler could not stop grinning. This was definitely a letter from a twenty-year-old, especially one who didn't get a chance to joke around much or do anything normal young adults did. Josh was also clearly not as cruel or ill-intentioned as his brother led Tyler to believe. In fact, the way he spoke in his letter seemed incredibly similar to the way Abbie did.

In a way, the letter almost sounded a bit like a teenager had written it, making Tyler wonder if being in solitary for so long had complicated Josh's ability to communicate with people his own age. It would make sense, given that his access to social interaction had stopped during his teenage years. Tyler justified to himself that the only way to know for sure if Josh's social skills had plateaued when he was eighteen would be to write to him again and answer Josh's questions.

Tyler tucked the letter back into its envelope before shoving it into the breast pocket of his jacket. He now had ten minutes to get to work. With a sigh, he started his car and headed out of the post office parking lot. He would just have to come back after work to send a response to Josh.

---

There were a lot of days that made Tyler feel like his job was truly rewarding and that he loved what he did for a living. Then there were days where all he wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed, and never emerge again. Today was the latter.

He had a new client, a six year old girl with pigtails and no front teeth. At first, she'd been so cute and open, but that was the issue. She'd been open about a lot of things that Tyler was legally and morally obligated to report, leading to him having to call Child Protective Services to take her away from her parents, who were arrested in the lobby. Tyler sat with her while they waited for CPS to show up, explaining what was going on to her in terms that she could understand while she coloured with crayons and ate candy from the secretary's desk.

After she'd left, Tyler had asked the secretary, Hayley, to push all of his appointments back a half an hour. She'd done so without hesitation, and Tyler had spent about ten minutes lying on the floor in his office with the lights off, reminding himself to breathe in and out. He'd spent the twenty minutes that followed writing back to Josh, giving himself the opportunity to think about something else for a moment. By the end of his thirty minutes of coping, he felt much better. He still wanted to cry and protect the little girl he'd just put into the foster care system, but he could breathe again.

It also helped that Tyler's favourite client was up next. Tyler was sitting behind Hayley's desk with her, the two of them eating M&Ms from her desk by the handful, when Abbie came in. She had bruising around her eye, but it was fading. She'd definitely gotten into a fight during the anniversary despite their conversation about it. That didn't surprise Tyler very much. Abbie didn't seem like someone who took anything lying down.

Surprisingly, it wasn't her mom or Jordan that accompanied her. It was another woman who looked just enough like Abbie to be her sister, and another with bright blue hair who looked nothing like either of them. Abbie smiled when she saw Tyler, who instantly smiled back.

"Hey, Abbie. You ready?" Tyler greeted cheerfully.

Abbie nodded, handing her backpack to her sister as she wiggled her way out of her coat. She then handed that to the woman with blue hair before digging through her backpack until she pulled out her sketchbook and a pencil bag. Her big sister, who Tyler was pretty sure was named Ashley, kissed the top of Abbie's head before sitting down in one of the chairs in the waiting room, patting the one beside her for the other woman to sit too. Ashley looked completely drained, and so did the woman beside her. Abbie kept her head down as she followed Tyler to his office.

"Nice shiner," Tyler teased as he sat down in his chair, watching Abbie get comfortable on the couch.

She smiled slightly. "My mom took me to see Josh after I got it. I think she thought he'd scare me straight or something, but he just made me promise to stop getting in fights. He was really nice and understanding about it, which confused the hell out of our mom. He asked why I did it and then told me I had to decide if I cared more about my future or what people I don't like think of me. He smells the same, and he picked me up like I didn't even weigh anything when he hugged me."

"Hey, that's awesome! That's some really good advice he gave you too. What do you think about that?" Tyler asked her, smiling when she opened her notebook to another sketch of Josh, this one of the adult Josh instead of his mugshot. It occurred to Tyler that this was the first time he'd seen what Josh looked like at twenty.

"He's right. I don't want to have to shower in a room full of dangerous people or sleep in a cell with a chick who likes to stab people just because of some dumb girl in middle school. Josh got in fights all the time, and it just made him more angry. It's better to learn how to deal with that anger in a good way," Abbie told Tyler, making him smile.

"I like that mindset. Maybe we can talk about some coping skills you can try out the next time you're angry," Tyler suggested.

"Can I talk to you about something else first?" Abbie asked quietly, looking up at Tyler timidly.

"Of course. This is your time. What's on your mind?" Tyler asked her calmly, sitting forward a bit more in his chair as he listened for her response.

"Josh got put on watch again last night. I guess he and Ashley had a fight, and when she and my mom went to see him, the guards said he was on suicide watch and that he didn't want to come talk to them. He's never done that before. No matter what's going on, he always talks to our mom when she visits. Then that girl out there-she's named Ashley too-came to stay with my sister for a while, and no one will tell me why. I just know she's a guard at the prison and that Josh specifically asked my sister to let her stay there. I guess she's Josh's best friend or something. She saw him after he first got put on watch this time around, and she said she was afraid to leave him there. I guess it's bad."

"That sounds overwhelming," Tyler validated, earning a nod and a shaky breath from Abbie. He was surprised to find that he felt a little sick to his stomach from knowing that Josh wasn't safe at the moment.

"It is. He was fine when I visited him. He smiled a lot and held my hand the whole time and told me he was proud of me, but now he's suicidal again. I don't get it. The only person who knows why he's so depressed is my sister, and she isn't telling anyone anything. I think she started the fight, and she doesn't want us to know. She knows everyone will blame Josh instead of her if she doesn't say anything, but I don't buy it. Josh is an amazing brother, even from behind bars. Ashley only cares about her husband."

Tyler sighed. "I can understand why that would be frustrating. That's a lot of information to take in and process, and it doesn't sound like anyone's telling the whole story."

"They aren't, and I'm sick of it. Ashley-my sister-told our mom that she thinks I'm the only person in our family Josh will talk to, but she doesn't think he'll talk to me if our mom is there. The other Ashley-Josh's Ashley-is going to take me to see him today. I like her a lot. She always calls Josh sappy nicknames like 'puppy' and 'wifey,' and she tells us lots of funny and nice stories about him. She said he's the sweetest person she's ever met in her entire like. My mom thinks they're sleeping together, but Jordan said that's illegal, and I don't think Josh would jeopardize getting out in June just to have sex," Abbie continued.

"Wifey?" Tyler asked amusedly.

Abbie smiled slightly. "Ashley says he's her wifey instead of her hubby because he's the soft one. She also told me she's not dating Josh and that he's just her best friend. I don't know though. I wouldn't mind if he dated her. She's nice."

That made Tyler smile too. "How are you feeling about seeing Josh today?"

Abbie shrugged. "I'm excited to see him since he's my big brother, and I love him, but I'm kind of scared. His Ashley...I'm just gonna call her Frangipane because that's what Josh calls her, and it's too confusing to talk about her and my sister at the same time." Tyler smiled slightly, nodding in favour of that slight edit. She let out a deep breath before continuing. "Frangipane said Josh called her from prison today to check in and make sure she was doing okay, and she said he sounds a lot better than yesterday, but I don't want to make him feel like he has to tell me what's going on or to pretend he's okay just because I'm there. I think he pretends a lot so we don't worry."

Tyler hummed his understanding. "I see. So you want to do my job," he replied with a slight smile, making her laugh. "Well, I'll let you in on a little secret. Some people who really need to talk about the things that are bothering them only need to so badly because they're used to holding it in. Sometimes they need something familiar nearby to help them feel a little safer before they can talk."

Abbie's eyes widened. "Is that why you always let me draw in here?"

Tyler chuckled. "In the beginning, absolutely. Now I just like seeing what you create. I've never seen anyone draw as well as you do. It blows my mind."

The little girl on the couch blushed, smiling down at her sketchbook. "Josh is better. When I was really little, before he got arrested, he used to let me draw with him in his room. I used to get overwhelmed really easy, and Josh did too, so whenever I got upset, he'd bring me to his room and let me colour in things he'd drawn. He pretty much made me colouring books. I'd tell him what I wanted to colour, he'd draw it really quick, and then I'd colour it."

"It sounds like he helped you to love art even when you were little," Tyler noted with a smile. "That's something the two of you have in common."

Abbie's eyes lit up. "Something familiar! I could bring my sketchbook when I go see him and ask him if he wants to draw with me while we talk. Maybe he'll feel less overwhelmed that way."

"I don't know if you can bring pens and pencils in there though," Tyler pointed out. "You'd have to check with security."

"I could bring crayons. You can't shank someone with a crayon, right?" Abbie asked hopefully.

Tyler laughed. "I couldn't, but I don't know if inmates could."

"I'll ask Frangipane," Abbie decided. "She's security. Plus, she'd probably bend the rules a tiny bit for me if it means making Josh feel less overwhelmed. She loves him. She saw one of his baby pictures last night in Ashley's living room and referred to him as a 'teeny tiny puppy baby.' I think it's safe to say that's she's a little protective of his well-being."

It was still so strange to Tyler how wildly descriptions of Josh differed when coming from the news versus the people who actually knew him. He was a monster on TV, a child who loved fire and gasoline more than he valued human lives. To his family though, he was a gentle man who picked his sister up when he hugged her and loved to draw. Tyler had only interacted with Josh once, and only in writing, yet the way he spoke in the letter and the humour behind it felt so much more like the person who would let a female guard call him her wifey and created colouring book pages for a surly younger sibling.

"How long do you get to see him for?" Tyler asked curiously.

"When my mom and sister go, they get fifteen minutes. I'm a kid though, so I get thirty. I think that rule is in place so inmates can spend more time bonding with their own children, but I still get to benefit from it," Abbie explained. "Jordan would get thirty too if he cared enough to visit."

"Do you wish your brothers had a better relationship?" Tyler inquired.

Abbie shrugged as she drew Josh's eyebrow on her portrait of him using broad strokes of a dark brown pencil. "I wish we all had better relationships with Josh. He used to try harder to be in our lives, but he doesn't really anymore. I don't blame him though. No one's exactly inviting him in. Sometimes Jordan pretends he doesn't even have a brother, and my dad doesn't even talk about him anymore. He has a new family though, so he doesn't really talk to the rest of us either. I think my mom would stop visiting Josh too if she didn't have all of this weird Catholic guilt about abandoning her child. She doesn't seem to think she's done that already, but she really has. There aren't even any pictures of him in our house. She gave them all to my sister, and she doesn't look at them when we go to Ashley's house."

"Do you think that's why you like to create your own?" Tyler asked curiously.

"My own what?" Abbie asked, looking up from her portrait.

"Your own pictures of Josh," Tyler explained.

Abbie looked confused for a moment before looking down at her drawing and smiling slightly. "Whoa. I'd never thought about that. Maybe. I don't know." She laughed then, looking up at Tyler again. "You're good at your job."

Tyler laughed. "I do my best," he replied amusedly. "It helps that you're doing such a good job being open and honest with me. I know that's not easy. That's even hard for me sometimes, and I have a PhD in it."

"I wish Josh could talk to you. I don't think he'd ever be suicidal again if he knew you," Abbie told him, her tone sincere.

Since Tyler couldn't exactly tell her that he had, in fact, talked to Josh, he settled for telling her, "That's really kind of you to say, but I'm sure there are much more qualified psychologists working at the prison."

"Yeah, but they usually only work there for a few months before they leave and go somewhere else. It's too heavy for most people. Josh hasn't had a stable psychologist in years. He hasn't had a stable anything," Abbie informed him.

"Do you feel like you have stability in your life?" Tyler asked, redirecting her back to something she could actually control.

Abbie shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think anything will really be stable until Josh comes home. Ashley keeps redoing the room she has for him at her house because she wants it to be perfect. My mom cleans his room every day even though no one really goes in there, and she drops everything whenever he's on suicide watch. Plus, I'm always worried something's going to happen to him. I was eleven the last time something really bad happened at the prison, and no one would even explain to me what was going on or let me talk to Josh. Jordan finally told me what happened a couple months ago, and I've had nightmares about it ever since."

"It must have weighed on you a lot if it's affecting your unconscious mind too. Is that something you want to talk about?" Tyler asked her carefully.

Abbie was quiet for a moment, her pencil just hovering above her drawing. Her entire demeanour shifted, making her look like the little girl from Tyler's last session as she'd been loaded into the backseat of a social worker's car. Abbie set her pencil down after a moment, still looking at the graphite image of her brother as she spoke quietly.

"He got put in a cell with a pedophile when they moved him to the prison from juvie," she whispered, making Tyler's stomach drop. "The guy beat him up so bad that he couldn't get away, and then tried to...to.... The guards pulled him off before he could, but Josh has been in solitary ever since. He doesn't talk about it, not even to our mom. If the prison hadn't told my mom, we would've never even known. He was only eighteen, but he stopped telling us about anything that happened inside of the prison after that. Jordan said my mom was really angry after it happened, and not even just at the asshole who attacked Josh or the guards who let it happen. She was mad at Josh."

Professionalism forgotten, Tyler asked a bit angrily, "What the hell was she mad at Josh for?"

Abbie was shaking, looking just as pissed off as Tyler felt as she revealed, "My mom thought that meant he was gay because she couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that people like him don't just attack people based on sexual orientation. It doesn't matter if Josh is gay or not. He didn't consent to anything, and he didn't do anything to make that asshole believe he had the right to touch him. Only my mom is a fake enough Catholic to be more worried about her son being gay than her son being assaulted. She asked him if he was gay when she went to see him in prison right after it happened, and then she was mad that he was crying too hard to answer. That was when all of his pictures started disappearing."

"That's bullshit," Tyler commented, fighting to calm himself down and be professional despite how much that pissed him off. "I mean.... How does her reaction make you feel?"

Abbie laughed angrily. "It makes me hate my mom. I don't know how she could do that to him. He needed her then. He needed her more than he ever had before, and she wasn't there for him. She just shoved what had happened in his face and blamed him for it. She's always done that. She's always blamed everything on him. Sometimes I don't blame him for being so fucking angry. I would be too if Mom treated me that way. And honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if he got out in June and went back just to get away from her. She's a horrible mother, but only to him. I know she loves the rest of us, but she never treated him the way she treats us."

"And you know that the way she treats him isn't your fault? It isn't something that you're responsible for fixing?" Tyler asked her seriously.

Abbie sighed and shook her head. "If I don't have his back, no one will. I think my family knows that too. I think that's why Ashley was so sure he'd talk to me even when he isn't talking to anyone else. I'm the only person in our family who hasn't at least partially given up on him. I know what he did was wrong, and I'm not proud of him for burning that building down, but I know he knows it's wrong and isn't proud of that either. He's frozen at thirteen to them. He's always going to be the little boy who let them all down, but he was never that boy for me. He was the one who made me colouring books and taught me how to draw and picked me up whenever he hugged me. He's still that person, but they've made him too scared to be that around them. He always has to protect himself when they're around, and that's not fair. That isn't how family is supposed to work."

"Well, what's one thing you can do today to help Josh and yourself feel less overwhelmed by all of this?" Tyler asked finally, glancing at the clock to find that they only had two minutes left of their session.

Abbie sighed. "I'm going to hug him really tight when I see him, draw with him, and listen. I'll tell him about how much I like Frangipane, how much I miss sending each other drawings, and that I love him. I'm going to tell him I love him over and over again until he believes me, and I'm not going to push him to talk to me about what's bothering him. I'll just try to help him feel comfortable enough to know he can if he wants to."

"I think that's an awesome plan," Tyler told her honestly, trying to ignore the pain spiking beneath his temples.

Abbie smiled. "Yeah. Me too."

"Is there anything else you want to talk about, or are you ready to go see Josh?" Tyler asked.

Her smile widened. "I'm good. I just want to go see my brother."

"Okay. I'll walk you out," Tyler said as he watched her close her sketchbook and stick her pencils back into her pencil case.

He held the door open for her when she left the room, following her back out to the lobby. The pain in his head was only growing, and he knew the stress of putting one child into state custody and hearing about how another child under governmental care had been abused was combining into what was going to be a doozy of a migraine.

Abbie went straight to the woman with blue hair, asking, "Do you think I'm allowed to bring my sketchbook and some crayons in when I see Josh?"

The woman smiled slightly. "I think I could make that happen," she replied kindly, making a wave of relief wash over Tyler at the knowledge that this woman was one of the people looking out for Josh.

Abbie grinned, letting her sister help her back into her coat. She looked over at Tyler and told him, "I'll see you next week, Dr. Joseph. Thank you!"

Tyler forced a smile despite how intense the pain in his head was becoming, amplified by the fluorescent lights above them. "Thank you. Have fun with Josh. He's going to be so happy to see you."

Abbie beamed, allowing her sister to start shepherding her toward the door. "I hope so! Bye, Dr. Joseph!"

"Bye, Abbie," Tyler replied, waiting until the door closed behind her to ask Hayley, "How many more appointments do I have today?"

"Ummm," she hummed as she turned to her computer and scrolled through the schedule before reporting, "Six. Why? Are you okay?"

Tyler debated with himself in his head before deciding, "I'll be fine."

Hayley's eyes narrowed at him for a moment before returning to her computer. "Oops. I was mistaken. Looks like you're all clear for the rest of the day. Looks like you can go home."

"Hayley-"

"You look sick. Go home," she replied simply, picking up her phone. "I'll call and have them reschedule. No worries. Go home and get some rest. Today has been a lot. I get it. Believe me. I saw those parents get arrested too. I can understand needing a breather after that."

Tyler sighed. "You're an angel, Hayley."

She popped an M&M into her mouth as she dialled a number into the phone. "I know," she replied simply, making him smile slightly before going back to his office to gather his things.

It was only about five minutes before he was in his car, driving a little too fast to try to make it home before his migraine hit full force. That is, until his body instinctually pulled into the post office parking lot, fulfilling the promise he'd made to himself this morning about sending a letter to the man he now knew was on suicide watch and likely feeling very alone. It was with great irritation directed at the lights in the room that he express mailed his letter to Josh before leaving the post office and driving home.

The complete onset of his migraine hit just as he was walking through the front door of his house, and he'd never been more relieved to be home in his life. He kicked his shoes off by the front door and hung up his coat, his vision going a little bit fuzzy as he did so. It wasn't until he'd left the entry room that he realized, turning around and looking again in case his migraine was making him see things.

It wasn't. Beside his shoes was another pair, and they weren't Jenna's. They were men's shoes, just a little bigger than his own. The Nike swish was on the side of them, and they were bright orange. Tyler's heart stopped in his chest. He'd experienced this before. He'd experienced this a million times before, but never with Jenna.

His feet were moving then, carrying him through the house on autopilot. Jeans. Men's jeans that were not his were lying in a crumpled heap on the floor beside one of Jenna's shirts and a light blue bra he'd seen a million times. A trail of clothing led down the hallway to their bedroom, and Tyler wanted to throw up. He felt himself shrinking, becoming small and unnecessary.

The pain in his head just kept worsening, and now everything else hurt too. He could hear them-he could hear his fiancé giggling and some man speaking in a relaxed tone. He knew what all of this meant. He'd be stupid not to, especially when he'd seen it all a million times before.

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his head begin to throb as he did so. He had three choices here. He could go in there, end things with Jenna, and kick her out. He could turn around and leave their house, go straight to his parents' house or Zack's or somewhere Jenna wasn't. Or, he could go in there, get his migraine medication out of the bathroom, and leave without addressing anything that was happening right now. He chose the third.

Jenna went absolutely still when the bedroom door opened, but Tyler didn't even look at her, going straight into the bathroom and grabbing his pills out of the medicine cabinet. He heard the bed creak as Jenna tentatively climbed off of it, the naked man beside her starting to climb off of the bed as well.

"Don't leave on my account," Tyler told the man as he left the bathroom. "She's all yours. I'd tell you to enjoy, but you've clearly already been doing that."

"Tyler, I can explain," Jenna sobbed out.

"No thanks," he replied, going straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water to take his pill with. His chest felt like it was full of stones as he swallowed it down.

"Ty-" She pleaded, only for him to cut her off.

"I'm not dealing with this right now, and I'm sure as hell not going to comfort you right now. I'm staying somewhere else tonight. When I get back in the morning, I want all of your shit out of here, and I want you gone too," he told her angrily.

"I wasn't trying to-" Jenna sobbed out, but he didn't let her finish that statement either, tears of anger and absolute agony filling his already burning eyes as he finally turned to look her in the eye.

"I don't care what you were trying to do, Jenna. I don't care why you did it. I don't care if you feel guilty right now. I don't care if you're sorry. You're the one who told me that cheaters only get one chance before they're out. Do you remember that? You told me that a million times when I was with Kennedy," Jenna flinched at the sound of his ex's name, "and I always regretted not enforcing that rule, so guess what? You don't get to do what she did. You don't get a second chance. You don't get to explain yourself. You don't get to try to manipulate me into staying because you knew from day one that this isn't something I can handle. You knew that, yet here you are, fucking some guy with hideous orange shoes in my bed."

Jenna looked angry then too. "What the hell was I supposed to do, Tyler? I never even see you anymore! You're always at work. Always, and I'm so sick of being the only person in this relationship who even tries!"

"Then get a job, so I don't have to work all the time!" Tyler yelled back at her. She fell silent, looking like he'd just slapped her. His jaw clenched, making pain shoot through his skull. "You know what? This isn't my fault. It's not my fucking fault that you are fucking someone else. You made that decision. Not me."

Jenna sobbed when he grabbed her hand, pulling her engagement ring off of her finger and stuffing it into his pocket. "Ty-" She begged desperately.

"Get your shit out of my house by tomorrow, or I'm selling all of it," Tyler told her simply. "And don't be here when I get back."

"You can't drive after taking that medicine, Tyler," Jenna whimpered out.

"Yeah, well I can't stay here either," he told her as he walked back to the entry room and pulled his shoes and coat on. "Leave your key on the table when you go."

"Ty-"

The door closed behind him as he walked down the icy front steps and out to his car. Jenna didn't follow him out. He was glad. He told himself he was glad.

He drove as carefully as he could to his brother's house. Zack's wife let him in without needing an explanation, bringing him some sweats and a tee shirt from Zack's drawer and telling him to let her know if he needed anything before letting him go to sleep in the guest room. He stared at the ceiling for a while before forcing himself to climb out of bed and open his brief case. He pulled out some paper and a pen, writing out the start of another letter to Josh.

Dear Josh,

Chapter one of my Tragic Backstory: I hate orange too.

He tucked it back into his briefcase, deciding to finish it when his head wasn't threatening to explode. He felt like he was dying as he climbed under the covers, pulling them up over his head and closing his eyes. Maybe he was dying. It was hard to care at the moment.