"Alright, now jus' slowly press down on the pedal-" The car lurched forward, Malcolm hitting the back of his head on the seat. "That's fine, you're doin' alright." Stevi kept both feet off the pedals, too scared to continue. Her hands pulled back from the wheel, refusing to touch the metal machine. "It's okay, Stevi, not everyone can drive a car their first lesson."

Deciding it would be good to help Stevi gain a bit of independence, Malcolm offered to teach her how to drive. The band shared a station wagon parked out front, the floor covered in muddy footprints and a couple stray guitar picks under the seats. Stevi's crutches were in the back, rolling and crashing as the car jerked back and forth. She shook her head at Malcolm's insistence she try again.

"Ya' wanna stop for now?" he asked. "We can give it another go later." Stevi nodded. "Alright, I'll help you get out."

**********

"How'd the lesson go?" Mark asked, eating dinner at the table. Phil was putting his plate in the sink and Angus had retreated to his room, playing guitar.

"Eh, could have been worse," Malcolm smiled. Stevi smiled back, flushing a light pink. "Will take a bit of work but we'll get there."

"Have ya' seen Bon out there? Either one of ya'?" Phil asked, drying his hands on a dish towel. "He went out with some friends last night an' he hasn't been back yet."

"Didn't see him," Malcolm said. "Or maybe we hit him." He laughed but Stevi didn't think it as funny. "Which friends?"

"The shady ones that ignored us when we met 'em," Phil said. "Angus got in a scrap with one."

"Oh," Malcolm said, remembering the incident and not in as good of a mood anymore. "Well. Aw, he'll be fine." Malcolm pulled out a chair for Stevi and she sat down, removing her crutches and leaning them against the table. There was no shortage of boiled food and plenty of boxed meals spread on the table. Malcolm passed her a plate and she eagerly took whatever looked appealing. 

"Hope that's better than the hospital food," Mark said, chewing. "Especially since I cooked it." Stevi flashed him a grateful smile. Malcolm cracked open two bottles of soda and slid one across the table to Stevi who caught it perfectly. 

"Bon's missin' out," Malcolm said, dishing up food for himself. "Won't be anythin' left of Mark's gourmet cookin'."

**********

Their retreating forms left Stevi with a sense of dread. A woman slammed the door closed and they were gone. Too short to reach the windows, Stevi had no choice but to follow the tense woman, leaving the others to their own.

Stevi shot up in bed with a start. Heart racing, a sheet of sweat on her back, and a crick in her neck. Looking around Malcolm's shadowy bedroom, she sighed, willing her body to relax.

It had only been a dream. 

Pushing the sheets aside she grabbed her crutches and fixed herself up, heading for the bathroom to freshen up. She passed Malcolm sleeping on the couch, face smushed against a wrinkled pillow case and his arm draped over the side. Smiling, she went to the bathroom, door ajar, lights on. Maybe somebody was already inside. Waiting a minute, she knocked. No answer. Bracing herself, she pushed the door open, covering her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. 

There was Bon, back from seeing his friends, only he wasn't himself. He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, gaze downcast. Stevi knocked on the door, louder, hoping to catch his attention. Bon wouldn't respond with words, only with infrequent snores. Knocking and pounding, Stevi could feel hot tears stream down her cheeks. A hand touched her shoulder. She stumbled, Malcolm catching her. His eyes were tired and groggy, his voice hoarse. "Whassa matter, Stevi?" he mumbled, waking up when he saw her crying. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" She struggled away from his grasp, backing into the door. It swung all the way open and Malcolm got a look. "Fuck-shit!"

Malcolm rushed to Bon's side, jostling him. Bon's eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. Stevi could only watch in horror as Malcolm swore up a storm, gently patting Bon's pale cheek.

"Fuckin' hell, Bon, you son of a-" Malcolm stood up and hurried past Stevi who was rooted to her spot. Sharp pounding on doors and yelling from a few men were all but background noise. All Stevi could focus on was her friend on the floor, motionless.

**********

"I could have killed you, Bon, you understand?" Stevi couldn't help but overhear the conversation through the bedroom door. It had been a few days since Bon's incident and after a quick revival and recovery at the hospital, Bon was sent home. Malcolm and Angus were quick to jump on him and remind him of what (and who) he was dealing with. "Matter of fact, I'm tempted to right fuckin' now."

"You kill me, Mal, an' you'll only finish the job," Bon said, his voice calm. "Figured you would have left me there if ya' really wanted me dead."

"This funny to you?" Malcolm asked. Nobody laughed.

"No," Bon finally said. "Of course not."

"Have ya' thought for a second that those 'friends' of yours don't care a fuckin' lick for ya'?" Malcolm asked. 

"Now I don't think you ought to talk about my friends, Mal," Bon said, still calm. "I'll worry about them, you two can worry about yourselves."

"An' who's worryin' about you?" Malcolm yelled. Stevi winced. She'd never known that Malcolm could get this angry. Wrapping her arms around herself she curled up on his bed, wiping at stray tears. She had hoped that once she moved into this house, the nightmares would stop. The yelling would stop. Yelling could turn physical real quick. 

She couldn't bear to go through that again. 

The voices went on without her.

"Stevi found you, ya' know that?" Malcolm said. "Fuck knows the kinda shit she's been through in that foster home an' ya' go an' do this?"

"I never meant to hurt Stevi, you know that, Mal," Bon said. "I only meant to have a bit...was too much too fast."

"Do you care if you die?" Angus spoke up. 

"Course I do," Bon said.

"Ya' sure? Sure doin' a lousy fuckin' job, ain't ya'?"

"Both of yous, I've jus' been let out of the fuckin' hospital, my fuckin' head hurts like hell an' I don't need a couple of you pricks ridin' my arse about the company I keep," Bon said. There was a scuffling; almost like one of them had made a move toward Bon but got restrained by the other one. Stevi sobbed into the pillow. 

"You fuckin' care about this band?" Angus yelled. "Ya' want us to tank before we've even had the fuckin' chance?"

"I'm not gonna swamp the band," Bon said. 

"An' if somethin' happens to ya', then what?" Malcolm asked. "Want me to call up Dave again? Go crawlin' back to him?"

"I'm not the only singer in the world, Mal," Bon said. "You two have said, you both sure as hell act like it, it's your band. You can do whatever the fuck you want. Get a new singer if ya' want. New drummer, new bassist. Mark, Phil, me....we adhere to your code of conduct."

"If you adhered to your own you'd be fuckin' dead on that bathroom floor," Angus snapped. Shaking, Stevi sat up on the bed and looked around the room. Something, anything. Malcolm didn't have a desk in his room but he had to have something to write with. Didn't he help write the words to the songs sometimes? Opening the nightstand drawer she rummaged around and pulled out a tiny black notebook and a dull pencil. Flipping to a random page, ignoring the scribbles in the margins, Stevi began to write. 

"I won't fuckin' do it again," Bon muttered. "That make you happy?"

"I'll believe it when I see it," Angus said. Stevi heard footsteps and a slamming door rattled the house. 

"Ang's got a real flagpole up his arse, ya' know that?"

"Angus and I don't wanna see you dead, Bon," Malcolm said. 

"I'm not," said Bon. 

"Not this time." Malcolm's footsteps paced the floor. "What if Stevi hadn't found you in time? Ya' know, you might jus' owe your life to her."

There was silence. 

"I'll talk to her tomorrow," Bon said. His voice was scratchy. Stevi tore the paper out of the notebook and put it away, setting the isolated paper on the nightstand. Resuming her previous fetal position, she closed her eyes, drowning it all out. "I really didn't mean for that to happen."

"I know," Malcolm sighed. "You're too important to lose, Bon."

"For the band, right?"

"For us. For your parents, your family, Angus, Mark, Phil, Stevi, me, us, Bon," said Malcolm. "You're important to us."

More silence.

"Can I go now?"

"Go on, get out of here," Malcolm said. "Get some sleep." Bon's footsteps left the room.

"See ya' tomorrow, Mal."

"Night. Oi, Bon?" Quiet. "Ya' ever do this again you're out," Malcolm warned. "One way or the other."

**********

The doorknob clicked and Malcolm stepped inside. "Stevi?" he whispered. "You awake?" There was no answer from the young woman whose back was facing him. The past couple of days had been rough. When they weren't taking the station wagon out for a quick drive or checking in on Bon, most of the time she had shut herself up in his room, refusing to answer the door for anyone. Malcolm wasn't even sure she had been eating anything and that worried him. He gazed over her thin frame, sighing. Fixing the blanket so it covered her, he noticed the paper on his nightstand. Picking it up and holding it close in the dark room, he read the note, hurriedly scribbled:

𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.