Street licked his sore lips. Before his mind was fully awake, it registered a presence in the room. It had often happened in the last month that a nurse, a doctor, or one of his therapists had awakened him —by mistake or on purpose— but somehow, this sensation was rather different.

Street felt insistently observed but not quite much uncomfortable. The other person that must have been in the room made him nervous, but at the same time, his presence calmed him.

When his eyes adjusted to the morning light that filtered through the half-lifted blinds, Buck's insistent stare reached his conscience. Street smiled—one of those broad smiles that masqueraded a certain uneasiness and embarrassment.

"If you think you can get away with this that easily, Jimmy," Buck said as serious as ever, "you are so wrong." His eyes shifted from Street to the wheelchair next to the bed and to the back-brace laid on it.

"It's not as bad as it seems," Street rushed to say while enjoying every second out of that bulky, uncomfortable thing. He felt lucky since they started to allow him to sleep freely a few nights ago, and he gladly learned that there was no going back. In no time, he hoped, he would use the brace only when standing because, in no time, he would start standing again on his own two legs.

"The guys told me it was even worst." Buck's grimace tore Street from his thoughts.

He tried to relax his muscles, glancing up to the ceiling before meeting Buck's severe gaze again. By now, he knew like the back of his hand every stain in the white and every corner of the room.

"It was what it was," Street said at last, then let out a sigh, unsure of how to go on. "But now I'm fine. I mean" —he shrugged, immediately regretting the gesture— "I'll be fine."

Buck's lips pursed, his eyes never left Street's.

"I'm sorry." Street breathed deeply. "I'm sorry if I didn't tell you, I just… I thought I could handle it, that I could do it alone."

"Thank God you were not alone, Jimmy." Buck settled in the chair near the bed, it seemed as if his legs gave way. "I was sure I taught you something in the last twenty years."

"Yeah…"

"And I would have helped you like I always did, kid." His tone was fully reproaching now. "You know that. You know."

"You always did," Street admitted, feeling shame and guilt seize him. "And I'll be forever grateful for that, but I'm not a kid anymore, and it wasn't fair to put all this on you." He took courage and looked straight at Buck. "What would you have done? Drop everything and rush here just to hold my hand? I couldn't let you do that. I wouldn't have forgiven myself for that."

Buck grimaced again. He was a man of action, and despite having talked Street out of multiple situations in the past, words were not exactly his forte. "You're such a mule. I wish I could be your commanding officer to teach you something."

His expression was more than explicit, and Street suddenly understood. "It was not your fault, Buck. I knew what I was signing up for when I became a cop, and I can't be more thankful and indebted to you for putting me on 20-David team. For making me part of this family."

Buck loudly exhaled, his dark eyes always fixed on Street. "Then why do you keep refusing to let your friends help you?"

Street huffed. "It's been precisely a month since I got shot, and I'm still not allowed to pee standing, or to stand at all." He felt frustration mounting in him at the thought of all the things he couldn't do anymore. "Do you think it's easy to let someone see me like this?"

"I know that—"

"Do you think they will trust me again on the job after seeing me… after…" he shook his head, and his voice went from shaky to cold. "If I'll be ever able to go back to the team."

Buck opened his mouth, but Street preceded him again.

"I know you well enough to be sure you would think the same if you were in my condition."

"And I know you better than this to believe there isn't more. Don't forget I can always tell when you're scared, Jimmy. Come on, it's me, spit it up."

Street scoffed, looking up while trying to bury himself into the bed. Buck was right. He always was. But how could he tell him everything he had inside when he couldn't wholly understand himself?

"I heard your mother is back."

Street's heart skipped a beat. "What did you hear?" He hated the idea that Deacon had told him everything, but he could forgive him for doing that. After all, they were a family, they were just worried, and sharing information was what they did… What Street feared the most was that it had been Dr. Wendy to break the confidentiality, that he trusted the wrong person, that he— but she would never. She would never, he just knew.

"What did they tell you?" He insisted.

"Only that she messed you up as usual. Nothing more." Buck put a hand on Street's shoulder, probably perceiving how agitated he was getting, and the touch indeed helped him calm down. "You should have called me for that. You know I can handle her."

Street swallowed. His mind went back to the night he first met Buck. That was the night he told him the truth, giving him a reason to arrest his mother. Street wondered with pain if he had made the right choice back then. If he would have done that again after seeing what came from it. If he would be able to do it right now, for his mother's sake, despite everything they went through for each other, after everything she had done for and to him.

But Buck went on talking, revealing a secret his friends had kept from him for weeks. They had busted his mother buying drugs during an official operation, letting her go without any consequence. Just for him. If he still was connected to the monitors, Street thought, by now they would be sending all kinds of alarms. His friends chose to not arrest his mother because they didn't want to add that to the bill of his sufferings.

They broke their integrity for him…

Street's head was spinning. Did they make the right decision? Was it for his best? Had it helped or just worsen his mother's situation? How did that choice weigh on their conscience? They knew he would suffer from her arrest; they thought he would be mad at them. Of course he would have been, she was still his mother, but… but, at last, he would have understood; Street was more certain of that every second that passed.

Knowing what he knew now, feeling what he felt now after his mother's visit… Street just knew he would have understood at last and be grateful to his friends for taking care of him and his family business.

But what if his mom wasn't safe now. Would she have been safer in jail than out on the streets? What if his friends' consideration for his feelings had pushed her down a dead-end road? The breath stuck in Street's throat, but he couldn't blame them for not making that choice. They did what they thought best for him; how could they know what his mother would do next? How could they know how selfish and erratic she was?

"Jimmy." Buck's voice pierced through the rising panic; his massage on Street's shoulder brought him back to reality. "Jimmy, are you still with me?"

"Find her," Street said almost in a beg.

Buck raised his eyebrows.

"You said you wanted to help me?" he continued with a sense of urgency. "Then find her. I need to know if she's okay because if she's not…"

"Are you sure of what you're asking?" Buck peered at him intently. "If I find her, I won't give her another chance."

"I know." Street closed his eyes, trying to gain back an apparent staidness. "She had already violated parole, she had already…" He now looked Buck in the eyes, prayerful. "It's just a matter of time before she ends up in serious trouble, before she… I can't, Buck, I can't, and you already put her behind bars once. I won't blame you."

A brief silence seized the room while they stared at each other. Buck's expression was grave but failed to cover his concern.

"And neither blame yourself?"

Street soundly exhaled, not able to answer his friend. How could he not blame himself? It all started from him not fulfilling his mother's request…

... ... ...

Luca, Tan, and Chris patiently waited outside the room as the nurse took care of their friend, who apparently had recently completed a session of physical therapy. The typical smell permeating the walls and the dull lights made the atmosphere slightly unpleasant, but it didn't seem a busy night on the ward, and the expression of the dark-blond-haired woman crossing them while exiting the room was calm and condescending.

Luca beamed at her, holding the paper bag in his hands, and she nodded. His smile grew even wider, but not as broad as Street's when he smelled the pizza his friend had brought him.

He was sitting in his wheelchair, his hair all messy but his face relaxed. He was playing with the blanket's extremity on his lap; instead of the usual gown, under the back-brace, he was wearing a dark-green t-shirt, meaning he was finally allowed to put on the clothes Luca had brought him a few days before. After a whole month, it was about time, Luca thought.

That vision instantly warmed up the atmosphere.

"Tell me that's for me, I'm starving," Street said, eyes glued to Luca's hands and to the paper bag in them.

The other three chuckled, crossing a 'he's back' look.

"You sure this won't ruin your appetite for the gourmet dinner you'll have later?" Luca said, pretending to hide the bag behind his back.

"First, the food is not that bad here," Street said, countering his friends' disbelief with a smile. "Okay, maybe a little flavorless, but…" he cautiously worked on his arms to approach the wheelchair to where Luca was standing. "And second, give me the pizza, or you'll have to deal with me."

"Oh, you'd better give up," Chris said in a severe tone before letting a smirk appear on her face. "He seems pretty serious to me."

"Okay, okay, you won." Luca chuckled, handing the paper bag to Street. What a change from a couple of weeks ago when he first tried to sneak some food inside the hospital, he thought. What a difference since the dark moment Street had just a few days after that failed attempt.

Street seemed so confident now, he was so secure in his movements with the back-brace on and the wheelchair carrying him around. Luca observed him attentively as he worked his way to the warm slice. A flash of embarrassment had crossed Street features when his movements across the room had driven his friends' attention to the way he handled the wheelchair. However, he seemed content of it, even proud maybe. If it was a good thing that Street was getting so used the chair or not, Luca still had to decide upon it.

The sound of munching and crunching was sweet to the ears, and Luca observed his other two friends settling in the room. Chris took place in a chair next to where Street had placed himself while Tan casually sat on the bed. The former was smiling at their friend's greed with the food, but the latter seemed to have noticed something in Street that they had missed.

"Thank you, guys," Street said, chewing the last bite. "I love you for this" —another flash of embarrassment crossed his face— "for all this, for all you keep doing for me."

The look Tan and Chris exchanged and the pale redness on her face made Luca feel like he, once again, had missed something. But all his friends' expression let joy shine through, and he couldn't hold back his own delight.

Tan nodded to Street. "Don't mention it, brother. We're here for you."

"Yeah, that's what family is for," Luca added, all smiles, but Street's face darkened for an instant before he could take back the control on his emotions.

Street took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't know what I would have done if Buck didn't put me on the team."

"He chose every single one of us," Chris said, sending another accomplice glance at Tan. "He built this family with his own hands."

"Yeah," Tan continued, "at the beginning you were like the weird uncle nobody wanted to deal with, but then—"

"Ouch!" Street faked a hurt expression.

"Speaking of Buck," Luca jumped in. "I heard he is back in town, did you—"

"He was here this morning," Street rushed to say. "Wasn't pleased I didn't call him, but he's Buck" —he smirked, but Luca had the impression it was one of his dimples-underlined-smirks that hid for deeper feelings— "and I know he loves me."

"Who doesn't?" Tan said, and Luca noticed another cryptic look between him and Chris. Was it because he was older than the other three, or were they hiding something from him? The thought crossed his mind very briefly because the chuckles and jokes they kept exchanging didn't leave space for concern.

...

Later that night, while driving home, Luca acknowledged he had not spent such a good night as that one in a while; surely, neither Street had. Seeing his friend finally recognizing the progress he was making, watching him comfortable in his skin again, and being able to share that light moment with him had been simply amazing.

Chris and Tan had felt exactly the same, as they had revealed to him at the bar after the nurse had kicked them out of Street's room. They had been there for about an hour, discussing their friend's optimistic attitude and focusing on the bright side only. Once alone in his truck, though, Luca looked back at the past evening, and the sensation he had missed something dawned on him. The feeling didn't come from the accomplice looks between his other two teammates, but more from the inquiring glances they both threw at Street at times and about the expressions the latter had not been able to hide from them when he probably didn't think to be observed. Tan or Chris may know something more, but neither of them had dared to raise the subject at the bar.

He was just being paranoid, Luca said to himself while inserting the key and opening his door. It was because, in the last month, every good day had been followed by a darker period. And it happened every time. This was his subconscious fearing the next relapse.

Maybe.

Or maybe the shadow Luca saw crossing Street's eyes a couple times during the evening was real. The mention of Buck and the first time he said the word 'family' had shaken his friend's mood, Luca was quite sure of that.

Something wasn't quite right. Street had done his best to hide his reaction, and Luca had not put much attention to it at the moment, but thinking back now…

He was just being paranoid, Luca repeated himself. That broad smile Street had on his face the majority of the time said that everything was okay. He had to believe that; there was no mean in worrying for nothing.

... ... ...

Author's note: Thank you so much for still being here with me. I hope you're enjoying the journey.

Between progress with his therapy, enjoying his friends' presence, and worrying for him mom Street is still fighting to find his balance and has no intention to give up or cut bait on his recovery.

Unfortunately, my heart and mind had been hijacked by my other story, 'Meant to Be' and another couple of new projects within the SWAT fandom, so I feel I can't concentrate on this story right now. Don't fear though, I already have ideas for following chapters and I know exactly where I want to go with this story. I just don't have the right concentration or dedication to this particular project right now, but I assure you I have no intention to abandon it.

Until next time, thank you for your patience.