Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Hanson or their family. For the Taylor fans out there, sorry....

Writer's note: I was in the shower when Zac started speaking in this one, and I wrote the whole thing in less than 24 hours (including at a dance and in the car on the way home from horseback riding - yes, I was driving. I don't suggest you do this!). It's not a great story, and gets confusing even for people who know the guys.

Forgive

The jangle of the keys woke me, and I stared at the bottom of the bunk for a minute, disoriented. Oh, right, the bed I had inherited.... Then I got mad. I knew he was going to go tonight. After the day he'd had, I would have.

"Hey, Ike?"

He turned, the moonlight flashing across his face, his hair pulled back tightly at the base of his neck. No way could anyone mistake him for Tay. Mom had called him Taylor three times today. "What, Zac? Sorry I woke you."

The tension was near the surface now, I could hear it in his voice, see it in the way he stood.

"Where are you going?"

"For a drive."

"I'm coming."

He chuckled lightly. "It can't be because you can't sleep." I was half dressed before he'd finished. "You were snoring."

I shrugged. "It's stuffy. I'm awake." My shoes were where I'd made sure to leave them the night before, and I slipped them on. His eyebrows were up when I looked at him.

"Okay, you can come. Tell me why." He reached for the door.

"Because if I'm with you, I know you'll come back."

I didn't know I could go numb that fast. I tried a laugh; no go. "Zac, why wouldn't I come back?"

"Tell me disappearing wasn't on your mind tonight after dinner. If not suicide."

I flinched. He couldn't have missed it. "Okay, I won't deny it." I shrugged, trying to counter the flinch from earlier. "But that's not why I'm going. It's stuffy." It was. It had completely unnerved me. Mom had never gotten us mixed up. If I was Taylor, what had happened to me?

"Fine." He sounded like he accepted my explanation. "I'm still coming." He was closer, peering up at me. "You know it's okay to grieve."

I'd thought I was numb before. Now, even turning the door knob was beyond me.

"You aren't going to, are you. Keep pushing it away, let it build up...." He looked at me, but I couldn't see his face. He could see mine perfectly. He must not have like what he saw, because suddenly, I hit the door. Zac had me pinned. I couldn't even take my hand from the door knob. "Let it go, Isaac." Bad. He only called me Isaac when he was mad. "There was nothing you could do. And you keep it locked up." His voice was getting louder; I opened my mouth to tell him to keep it quiet, and he shoved me. "Don't tell me to be quiet. Do you have any idea at all what this does to the rest of us? Jessica and Avery hid from you all day today." I'd wondered where they were. "Mackie kept trying to crawl into my clothes every time he saw you."

The door behind me vibrated as someone knocked on it. "Zac, keep your voice down!" Mom. Oh, crud. Mom. The last person I wanted to see.

"Can't you cry? Show some grief, something?" Zac's words dragged on me. "He was your brother, Ike! Do something! Don't you even care?"

Mom tried to open the door; our combined weights made it impossible.

I couldn't even be angry. I just looked at him, blank. He shoved me again. "Isaac, face it." He took a deep breath, stepped back from me. "Taylor is gone. He isn't coming back."

I had him. His face changed from the frozen neutrality that had so scared me, to an expression I had never seen on his face before. His knees buckled and he slid down the door, crossed his arms on his knees, and sobbed. Oh, it hurt. It hurt to see him that way. I knelt by him and held him while he cried.

"Zac! Open this door! Isaac, are you two okay?" Dad. Ike wasn't ready to face them yet, but from the sound of it, Dad was ready to break down the door. I had to get him to move.

"Ike, come on. They're gonna break the door down." He wasn't near finished. "Hang on, Dad, I'll have it open in a minute."

"Don't wanna see Mom," Ike mumbled.

"I know. Come on." I got him on my bed - mine now, not Tay's - then left the room, leaving the door open so I could check on him. "What?" It took all my strength not to snap at her.

"What were you yelling about?" Dad asked.

I took a deep breath. "Trying to get through to him. Now, I'm going to be really rude to your wife, please let me get it all out." I turned to Mom, but didn't miss the irritated yet faintly amused look on his face. The amusement wouldn't be there long. "What exactly were you doing today?"

"What?" She looked totally confused. Was it possible she didn't know?

"You seem bent on utterly destroying him. How could you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Zachary, what are you talking about?" Full first name from Dad. When he added my middle name, I was in trouble. I looked at him, then turned back to Mom, who seemed to be waiting for the answer to that question as well.

"You called Isaac Taylor three time today!" I was yelling. I couldn't help it.

"Isaac? Zac, he's dead. We buried him three days ago." I hated that tone. It was the same she used to explain something to Mackie; totally condescending.

The window in my room shattered. "You did not say that." I ran for the window in time to see Ike pick himself up and start around the corner of the house. "Dad! The cars! Stop him!"

Fast thinking man, my dad. But not fast enough. The front door opened just as the car started and peeled out of the driveway.

"You didn't just say that!" I demanded, back at Mom. I felt the tears on my cheeks, a far too familiar feeling. "I can't believe you just said that." I left her standing there, and ran down the stairs to see what Dad was doing. He hung up the phone, a satisfied look on his face.

"I reported the car stolen. They'll bring him back when they get him." His hand gripped my shoulder, squeezing tightly. "She called him Taylor?"

"Three times that I heard." I hope they catch him. Please, let them catch him.

I don't think I actually realized I'd moved until I was picking myself up off the ground. I caught sight of Zac in the second story window, and knew I didn't have much time. I had to get out of there. Once I rounded the corner, I ran for the car, the one Dad let me drive. I saw Dad in the doorway as I started it up and backed it out, like I wasn't supposed to, with the tires squealing and everything.

Mom's words echoed in my head. I'd wanted to know. If I was Taylor, Isaac had died. A sob caught in my throat. Zac had started me crying, and I couldn't stop. I turned the radio on, hoping for noise, some sort of distraction from the words in my head. Flashing red and blue lights in my mirror caught my attention. I pulled over and he followed. Oh, great.

"Step out of the car please." I turned it off and followed his instructions. This was weird.

"What is it?" I asked. He hadn't even asked for my ID yet.

"The car you're driving was reported stolen. You're going to have to come with me. Lean up against the car, please." They'd reported the car stolen? I vaguely heard him read me my rights as he cuffed me, then put me in the back of his car. I couldn't concentrate on it. Mom's words were still echoing in my head. "We buried him three days ago." The tears started fresh. No stopping them.

I snapped back to the here and now when he reached in and pulled my arm. I got up, looking in some confusion in my own house. "What are we doing here?"

"They're going to identify you. Apparently, they saw you."

Laughter choked me, warring with the tears. I couldn't help it. "Don't ask my mom. She doesn't know me."

Dad opened the door, Zac hovering right behind him. Relief was written on Zac's face when he saw me. "Come in, officer."

The handcuffs pinched slightly; I ignored the feeling and followed them in. Mom stood up when we walked into the living room. "Is this the one?" the officer asked.

"Yes." Both Dad and Zac spoke, then glanced at each other. "It's okay, officer. He's my son."

"Taylor,..." I didn't hear any more. I couldn't. She'd crushed me. I pulled myself together and turned to the officer.

"Maybe you'd better just take me in," I told him unsteadily. "I'll just steal another one if you leave me here."

She'd done it again. Ike went white and his eyes glazed over. I watched the officer take him back out. He was unsteady, defeated. "You did it again!" I yelled at her. The tears were back. "Mom! You're gonna kill Ike if you keep this up!"

"Zac,..."

"No!" My voice was reflecting my hysteria. I'd lost one brother; I was going to fight for this one tooth and nail. I hadn't been able to help Taylor, but I could help Isaac. "Don't try to tell me Isaac's dead!" I had to stop. His eyes had been very dead. I took a deep breath and rushed on. "Taylor is dead! We had the funeral for Tay, not Ike!"

"No," her voice shook.

"Oh, yes. Taylor died. You're killing Ike. If he dies...." My voice caught in my throat. "If he dies, are you going to call me Taylor next? Or Mackie?"

She held up a hand to get me to stop. I could barely see her; my eyes were swimming in tears. "Or maybe Jessica. Will you try to transform her into Tay? Huh? Who's next, after Ike goes?"

"That's enough." Dad's voice was soft, right behind me. I was shaking, I suddenly noticed, and dropped onto the couch. "That's enough." He was even quieter. "Zac, you need to go to bed."

"You're not leaving him there!" This was killing me.

"He didn't want to stay here." Dad sounded tired, almost as exhausted as I felt. Stairs? No way.

"Fine." I waved him away. "I'll sleep down here. Take her and go away." I caught his glance. "Yes, I'll be here in the morning! I'm only 13, I can't drive yet!" His follow up look said plainly that it hadn't stopped me before. I scowled at him. "I'll be here."

He nodded, then helped Mom up the stairs. They looked old.

When I got up to my room the next morning, Ike was gone. His keys lay in the middle of my bed, his acoustic gone from the corner, clothes missing from the closet. I wanted to kill him.

‘I didn't want to wake you,' the note under the keys said. ‘Thanks for your help. Watch the Sunday want ads - I'll be in touch. C Isaac Hanson.'

"Oh, and just a plain Ike isn't good enough?" I mumbled. My eyes stung, my head hurt. I grabbed some clothes and headed for the shower.

When I got out, Dad was waiting. "We're going to the cemetery. Will you watch the little ones?"

"I'm not little!" Jessica protested. No. Almost eleven. So old?

"Sure," I said. "Jess can help. Okay?" I asked her. She seemed to find that satisfactory.

I checked the want ads for weeks, determined to find him. About a month later, I did.

‘Wanted: experienced drummer. Call 555-3737. HITZ Music, inc.' That was it. My fingers shook as I dialed the number. An answering machine picked up. Not Ike speaking.

"Hi. I'm answering your ad in the paper, about the drummer. Name's Zachary Hanson. Phone is 555-3321." I hung up and held my breath.

They still hadn't called back two days later when Mom came down to interrupt my practice. "Zac. Where's Isaac?"

I stared at her in some disbelief. "I... I don't know. I haven't heard from him."

She studied me for a minute, and I was glad I was telling the truth. "When you do, tell him I need to speak with him." She left me stunned. When, not if. It was a given to her that he'd contact me.

The phone rang the next day while I was doing some of my summer reading. "Zac! It's for you!"Avie called up.

I snatched the phone. "Hello?"

"Zachary Hanson?"

"Speaking."

"Good. You'll need to audition. Can you be to the Tulsa auditorium in fifteen minutes?"

"I couldn't make that if I drove. I'm only 13; I ride the bus."

"Oh." The voice turned condescending. "How experienced can you be, at 13?"

"Go to you local record store. Pick up "Middle of Nowhere" and "Three Car Garage"." The third album was only half done. It probably would never get finished. ‘Hanson' had died with Tay.

"An hour and fifteen minutes, then?"

"Alright." I hung up and ran upstairs to get ready.

"You'll never believe who I just talked to. A kid!" Dave said, walking into my apartment as if the door hadn't been closed.

"What did he tell you?" I asked.

"This kid is thirteen, and he has the gall to tell me he's experienced!" I sat up, really listening this time. Zac had called? Dave scowled at me. "That's ridiculous!"

"So, when you said that, what did he say?"

"He said something about a couple of CD's. Want to check them out with me?"

"Sure. What are they?"

"Um..." We started walking towards the used music shop downtown Tulsa. "Oh. Middle of Nowhere and Three Car Garage. What kinds of names are those?"

Yes!!! It had been Zac!!! "Yeah, like ‘Squirrel Nut Zippers' isn't weird." Weird? Middle of Nowhere?

"Hey, they aren't weird."

"Maybe, but the name is." The door rang with little bells when it opened. Dave is forward - he soon found himself with a copy of Middle of Nowhere, Three Car Garage, and the sales lady's utterly confused look. I guess Hanson isn't what he usually buys there.

"Well. It does say Zachary Hanson. These any good?" He looked at me. I was, to quote my own song, speechless.

"Why ask me?" I finally croaked out.

"Because this is you. With longer hair, but it is you. You've got a distinct face."

I sighed and shrugged. "Yeah, Zac is good. He was good enough for us. He sings, too, good harmony." My voice was starting to tremble. "Yeah, they're good." That was it, I couldn't take any more. "I'm gonna go wait for Zac." I ran out of the record store so fast I nearly hit three people before I saw them.

I sat on the steps of the Auditorium, wishing I was numb again. I hadn't been able to reach that state since the night I'd gotten arrested. I still wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Zac probably thought it was good. I have no doubt that Tay would think so, too.

"Ike?" The voice was hesitant and slightly amused.

I looked up at Zac. "Hey. Do I look that funny?"

He sat next to me. "No. Just weird. Who's the guy on the answering machine?"

"Oh. Dave. Good guy. He's still over at the record store, listening to Middle of Nowhere, probably." I leaned over and gave him a hug.

"Ike. Mom asked for you."

The jolt that ran through me was unfamiliar and indescribable. I couldn't even identify the emotion that followed. "She did?" I couldn't talk louder than a whisper.

"Yes. For you, Isaac. Told me when I talk to you that I needed to tell you she wanted to talk to you." He looked at me. "She has a lot of faith. I didn't think you'd ever call me back."

"Hey, Ike!" I looked up. Dave walked towards us, a familiar orange CD in his hand. "This is good. A little cheerier than I like, but good." He looked at Zac. "You must be Zac." Dave studied his face, then mine. "Ah. I'm not wanted right now. Ike, let me know what's up."

I nodded, speechless again, and he walked away.

Ike watched him go. Dave was a good guy. A familiar sound made me turn my head, and I stood, pulling Ike up with me. "Come on, there's the bus." I started across the street, still pulling him. We got on; I paid both fares and pushed him to the back. We sat down and I looked at him, studying his face. He read like a book; no sign of the frozenness I'd seen the night he'd gone. That was a relief. I chuckled.

"I feel like I got hit by a bus," he said, and leaned back.

"Well, almost," I told him.

He looked at me, serious. "How's it been at home?"

I thought about it. "Better. Mom gets up most mornings looking like she cried all night. Then yesterday, she was fine. And normal, like... like she'd gotten over it." I thought about it more. "Today, too. Jessie even said something about it today, so it wasn't just me."

He nodded. There was still tension in him. I think he was scared. I would have been, and macho-ism be hanged. He looked like he'd mostly recovered from the crushing blows Mom had given him, but I'd see. In about.... I checked my watch. About fifteen minutes.

The bus stopped; he was standing before I realized we were at our stop. He pushed me off the bus, then slowed to a stop. We could see the house. I took a deep breath. "Come on, before you chicken out." He didn't even try joking with me. That was bad. He just started walking. We got to the door; I opened it. He didn't seem to be able to. But he wasn't frozen - I think he was feeling too much. Including fear. He had a right to be scared. I was.

"Zac, is that you?" Mom's voice. Normal, worried, the way I remember it.

"Yeah." I'd almost forgotten he was there. He took my arm, and against his steady grip I realized I was shaking.

"Zac, I can't," I whispered. I couldn't face her yet. This was too soon. He pulled me into the kitchen, left me standing in the doorway.

"Mom, I need a couple of sandwiches. We haven't eaten yet." She half turned to look at him, her expression amused. It had been so long since she'd looked that relaxed! Sad, yes, but relaxed. I gripped the door frame next to me, incapable of moving more than that.

"You brought a friend? Anyone I know?" She turned the rest of the way around. I urged my feet to move, to do anything but stand there. Then her eyes met mine, and I couldn't think, my mind froze. She'd caught me. I felt like a mouse under the eyes of a snake. She blurred abruptly. Zac strikes again. I hate crying, I really...

"Isaac?"

I couldn't answer her. Nothing worked but my tear ducts and basic involuntary functions. She came closer, touched my arm. "Isaac, honey, I'm sorry. I know it's not enough. But I'm sorry. Please, come home." She was crying too, I could hear it in her voice.

I had been praying the whole month I'd been gone that I would be able to forgive her. I never wanted to know that she'd rather have me dead than Tay. Her arms went around me. Mine moved without conscious thought on my part, and I held her while she cried. It was like the last bit, the letting go. Could I live with what had happened? Zac surprised me, joining the hug, holding us both, crying with us. That settled it. I couldn't live without my family.

"Yeah, Mom," I choked out. "I'll come home."

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