Keely thought she’d be good at this. She was supposed to be, after all, so many music critics had praised her for the wit and cleverness when she was writing. Yet she couldn’t even think of a word to say as she sat there awkwardly.

If you’re so funny; why are you on your own tonight? If you’re so clever; why are you on your own tonight?

Scowling at The Smith’s song that popped into her head, she blew the bangs away from her eyes impatiently. However, that still didn’t get the doctor’s attention who was staring blankly at the same place on his clipboard. It was the same doctor she’d been coming to constantly since she’d come back, Keely was under the impression that she was starting to annoy him. And he’d been staring at that same spot for the last five minutes.

Awkwardly she shifted on the little bed in the clinic’s examining room, the paper cover crunching with the movement. But he didn’t even glance in her direction. Finally running out of patience, she gave a not so subtle clearing of her throat, though it turned out to sound more like a coughing fit. She apparently had no talent in the attention grabbing clearing of her throat area.

“Yes, Miss Staub,” the doctor answered with a weary sigh, “I know what you’re doing. What do you want me to tell you?”

Wetting her lips dry lips with her tongue hastily, she sent him a sheepish look. “An update?”

Shaking his head, he finally put down the clipboard. “What am I going to say that I haven’t already told you? You’ve come in here enough. Your voice is making great progress, just keep taking what I’ve prescribed to you, plus the lozenges and don’t sing a five hour concert tonight.”

“That’s all?” she questioned.

In response he just sent her a bland look.

With an uncomfortable little smile in his direction, she gathered up her bag before slipping off the hard bed. But it wasn’t until her hand was on the door handle, about to escape the sterile room that’s smell made her queasy that the doctor spoke up.

“Oh and Keely? Your voice is a muscle, you can’t stop using it completely and think you’ll be able to just jump into doing concerts again; you’ll just blow it out again that way. Keep exercising it like any other muscle. Start building up again, just do it slowly or you’re going to be back here and the results might not be so pleasant.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Keely just gave a relieved sigh, walking out of the door and soon out of the clinic to her car.

Slowly. She could do that.

Plopping down in the front seat, she just leaned her head back against the seat. She was going to be okay, she wasn’t quite there yet, but it was all going to be okay.

Knowing she had promised to go pick up Joe – even though he would demand to drive despite the fact it was beginning to annoy her – Keely didn’t linger long on the one way street. Instead she backed up carefully, turning the knob of the radio up to a normal volume. Something she hadn’t dared to do since her first day back in Bellingham with the ABBA ordeal.

It wasn’t just the song that scared her; she was simply taking Rose’s advice of avoiding all forms of paparazzi and news about herself. She needed to heal, and she wouldn’t be able to do so with rumors and nasty stories about herself circling around her mind. Avoidance of pop culture was key. Keely had been sticking to her vinyls and CD’s at home; not watching television, listening to the radio, reading magazines or newspapers. Held up on the farm, it wasn’t very hard to stay hidden from the world.

But now was as good time as ever. She needed to go back to the real world – well, her real world – sooner or later.

A smile touched the sides of her lips as she recognized Arcade Fire’s Keep The Car Running flooded from the speakers. Her hand began tapping along, but she didn’t allow herself to sing. Her palms got a little clammy at the thought, but she assured herself she wasn’t singing just because she wanted to do it right… right?

“Well there you have it, Arcade Fire’s Keep The Car Running,” the DJ interrupted as the song ended. “Ever hear the Foo’s cover of it? BBC rules. I’ve got to say. And now this might be my last day working after that mention, so enjoy this shift while you can.”

Despite herself, Keely laughed lightly as she flicked her right turning signal on before following through on the motion. Would she ever play on BBC radio?

“Anyways, we’ve got a song that’s been number one on Billboard charts across the world for seven weeks. It’s by a hometown girl, Keely Staub.”

Instantly her hands tightened around the wheel, making her knuckles shine white beneath the brightly lit sun. Absently she couldn’t help but think she wasn’t hometown for this radio station since the station came from Seattle. But she figured that city and Bellingham were close enough; Seattle had always taken credit for Cobain, why couldn’t they do the same for her? Same state after all.

“With all our hopes, wishes and prayers if that’s your thing, we hope your voice is recovering. NSR and UAE Records have only been releasing lately that she’s taking some time to let her voice heal up. So, wherever you’re hiding out, Keely, get better.”

As she pulled up to a smooth stop at the red light, she found that her hands and knees were trembling violently. She’d always known that not all her fans had done a total one eighty and turned against her, but hearing it with her own ears – through a radio no less – was a totally different experience.

Hearing the familiar chords of Yesterday’s Gone, she turned it down slightly, just closing her eyes and breathing it in.

It had been an out of body experience when she’d heard For You over the radio the first time in New York, but this was completely different. This was the masterpiece of the album she and Seth had created together, the grunge throw back with blues undertones and lyrics that spoke of love to death. And it was playing on the radio station that she’d grown up listening to. The one she’d heard everyone from Lead Belly to The Strokes on.

Frowning when the song became louder, Keely opened her eyes, twisting the volume down. She’d blasted her eardrums enough with the song since the time they’d recorded it. But that didn’t help. In fact it got louder.

Bewildered, she looked around wide eyed, but soon found the source as the car pulled up beside her, music blaring from the open windows. For a moment Keely simply stared slack jawed at the two teenage girls who were singing along to her song at screeching volumes, completely off key and to the point it was a wonder her ears weren’t filing for a restraining order. But it also happened to be one of the most wonderful things she’d ever heard.

Not thinking about the fact that the light had to turn green eventually or of the cars behind her, Keely pushed the shift into park, kicking out of her door.

Stepping across, she knocked on the top of the car.

Instantly the girl’s heads swivelled in her direction, bearing a mixture of shock and anger. But when Keely pulled the sunglasses off her face, the anger melted away just to be left with the surprise.

“Hey,” she began simply.

Walking inside from the garden, Keely rubbed the dirt from her palms onto the faded jean shorts she had pulled on in the morning. The shorts had once been for concert, strategically distressed, but she was doubtful they’d have the same job any longer.

She was still living out of the bag she’d packed on her own when in Montgomery, afraid to unpack all the boxes sent to her further than getting her music from them. They were piled up in her room, crowding the place so much she just had enough room to shuffle towards the bed at night and to the record player. She’d taken nothing more out of those boxes besides her amplifiers and her two guitars she hadn’t brought how in the first place with her.

She’d gotten the idea for gardening for George Harrison, but she wasn’t sure how it was going to work out for her.

To be honest, she’d like dipping her hands in the soft dirt, letting the cool dark moisture keep her hands safe from the burning heat that thudded down. But it had begun to get rather mundane as she went through the motions.

And soon enough, the doctor’s advice had came back to her. Like a whisper in her ear.

So she’d begun to sing, none other than I’d Have You Anytime in honor of the former Beatle. But only a short way through the song, her voice had cracked and she’d departed.

Sighing she rubbed a hand across her temple wearily, not considering the dirt residue that had to be still attached to her palm. Keely couldn’t say she was afraid to sing, she was exactly fond of pain though, but she refused to be afraid of something she loved so and that was such an enormous part of her. Maybe all of her. But she was afraid of what she could do.

Pouring herself a glass of apple juice, she frowned deeply while sipping on it, trying desperately to distract her mind. She was supposed to be getting better, not making herself sick in a different way by sending her mind into spins and circles.

Without thinking by her own decree, she moved forward to the island, absentmindedly moving the sugar container back to its original spot. It was driving her mad sitting there; her dad had to learn where to place it.

But as she shoved it back to its slot beside the coffee maker, Keely froze, realizing what she’d done.

And the glass of apple juice slipped from her suddenly numb fingers.

Had a stranger been watching or even Joe, they wouldn’t have understood the effect that unconscious movement had on her. By all normal accounts it wasn’t a big deal, she’d simply moved a sugar container.

But in her mind, in her heart, it meant a whole other thing. Falling back into doing that, and not even on purpose, meant so much more than another person could understand. She was falling back into being the person she despised, and it was a comfortable position. It was easy. Going back, using her voice was a whole lot harder than living here without ever having to take a risk would be.

Her hands beginning to tremble, Keely tried to take a deep calming breath as she leaned bracingly against the kitchen counter. But the breath was shallow and breathy instead of deep, leaving her with a racing pulse and alarmingly aching heart.

But the door slammed open, sending her jolting in surprise as Joe’s delighted voice rang out through the house, “We’ve got food!”

Raising her shaking hands, she hastily scrapped them over her face, hoping to erase some of the panic at least to their eyes. Grabbing a cloth from the counter, she crouched down, trying to clean up the mess she’d caused.

“What are you doing?” asked Joe confused.

Glancing up, she forced her lips to turn up into a slight smile with the cloth in one hand and the glass in the other. So much for not faking anymore. “I spilt,” she explained lamely.

Behind Joe, she made eye contact with her father. He too had a bewildered expression on his face, but then his eyes flickered away towards the sugar container knowingly making Keely’s gut give an uncomfortable jolt. When their eyes met again, his face was completely blank.

“Oh okay, well we’ve got dinner,” Joe said pointedly, holding up the bucket of fried chicken for effect.

Although she wanted to wince at their choice in food, she trained her features carefully to not give away any of her distaste. “Great,” she murmured, straightening up.

Still obliviously happy, Joe plopped the food down on the counter top, moving naturally to where he knew the plates were. “Okay,” he proclaimed, pushing a plate into her hands. “Let’s eat, there’s a football game on tonight and everything that we can watch.”

Feeling a bit queasy about how much that reminded her of tour. The fast food mixed with some kind of sporting event, although she and Seth would usually end up disregarding it and do something involving music, whenever it be listening, playing or writing. Yeah, that definitely put her on the queasy side of things.

“Actually, I’m not that hungry,” Keely said, placing her plate on counter. Her eyes flickered from Joe towards her father, only to find him looking at her with a suspicious expression gracing his face. In response, she quickly turned her gaze away.

How was it, that after everything, her father could still guess what was wrong with her before Joe did? There had always been a blockage between her and her dad, but the one that had developed between her and Joe had only just been concocted. Whatever the reason, he was watching her closely while Joseph was just happily piling the fried chicken to alarming heights upon his plate.

“You sure, Keel?” Joe questioned, snapping her attention away. When she glanced towards him, his blue eyes shining brightly.

Who is ever that happy? The thought rushed through her mind, but she quickly pushed it away. A lot of people were that happy, and it was great. Just because it felt like years since she herself had felt that blissfully joyful didn’t mean no one else could.

“Yeah, I’m good, have fun though,” she told him, twitching the corner of her lips pathetically.

Before they could comment anymore, she was spinning on her heel and taking off down the hall to her bedroom. Absently she rubbed a hand over her heart, realizing it was beating just a little bit faster than it should of. But she refused to actually acknowledge the reason.

Hurrying to her room, she flung the door shut, falling closely to her guitar as she dragged it out of the case.

Maybe she was being paranoid. After all, it was only a sugar container that she moved. It shouldn’t matter that she just placed it in a different spot. Anyone could do it. It didn’t mean anything.

However it didn’t matter how many times she told herself that, it meant something to her. It meant everything to her. This wasn’t who she was anymore; she couldn’t be that person that fought the silent battle with her father anymore. Just the mere symbolism of that moment meant far too much for her. She’d been neglecting her music in fear of her voice, but she couldn’t do that. Not for any longer.

All that stopped her from becoming that same person that had been pulled up from this stupid town was music. It was her own talent. And she wasn’t letting herself ignore it any longer.

Swinging the plain black guitar strap over her shoulder, she crawled awkwardly over her bed to where her amplifier was sitting, untouched since she’d unpacked it. Plugging it in, she couldn’t help herself, switching all the dials up to full. Not only did she have to remind her muscles what and who she was, she needed to prove it to Joe. Her dad never referred in conversation to her staying home, but Joe did every time he spoke. It was as if he could convince her through positive reinforcement to stay home.

This had to prove something to him, didn’t it?

Not quite ready to sing full on, she let her guitar start off instead of practicing with her voice. Closing her eyes, she began to walk back and forth, drawing the chords from the strings one at a time until she built up to a progression and switched to a song.

She wasn’t even certain about the chords she was playing, if they were perfect or not. It was usually Seth and her that would sit down and dissect songs, find out every chord and try to understand the song writer’s motives, questioning how a groove felt or a snare hit. But being perfect wasn’t the point right now; she just needed to play loud enough to get it through his head.

She was a musician. She was a guitarist. She was a singer. And she’d always be, she wasn’t about to let it go. It didn’t matter what happened in the future, the only thing certain in her mind was that she’d always follow the music. And that meant more than the world to her at the moment.

Swaying slightly with the groove of the song, she kept her eyes closed, her head leaning back so her fiery hair fell away from her eyes. Maybe the chords were wrong, but it felt so right to have her hands back on the guitar like this. She’d never be able to explain it to a person. Well, maybe one person.

Being so wrapped up the song, she didn’t even realize when she started to sing. Sure it was a bit rough, but she sang so very lightly it could barely be heard over the guitar, her thoughts connecting to nothing but the song any longer. “… I think I’m paranoid. And complicated. Bend me, break me. Anyway you need me. All I want is you. Bend me, break. Breaking down is easy. All I want is you.”

Suddenly the door open, spilling light into the room she hadn’t even noticed was swathed in darkness, even the air tasting stuffy on her tongue with the curtains drawn.

“Think you could play any louder?” Joe shouted, his blue eyes not so bright anymore from his position silhouetted in the doorway.

Regretfully, Keely felt herself getting dragged out of the song as her fingers slipped up on the chord, only slightly surprised by his appearance. She had been playing awfully loud. Gulping down the sensation of use in her throat she hadn’t felt in the same fashion for a very long time, she just shrugged at him, sending him a half-hearted smile.

“Probably not,” she replied, using a normal tone of voice as her guitar playing had ceased.

For a moment Joe didn’t say anything, just stood in the doorway, his hand gripping the door handle. Even his eyes left her for a moment, shifting away to take in all the boxes piled about. The expression on his face unreadable.

Abruptly their gazes clashed again, but he had a smile on his face this time. Frowning, Keely stared back at him. There was something wrong with that smile, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It was something about his eyes that seemed off.

“I’ll help you unpack,” he announced before his gaze flickered away.

Feeling a ball of panic become steady in her throat, Keely shook her head vehemently. “Ah, no, Joseph, I’m good,” she replied, keeping her voice perfectly non-confrontational.

“No, I want to,” he assured her, glancing in her direction as he stepped before the boxes. The smile was normal again, and just that sent a warning sign up her spine. “Seriously, it’s just making it so you can’t get around here.”

Her hands were balled so tightly into fists that she wouldn’t be surprised if her nails were drawing blood from her palms as she watched his hand near a box. She didn’t want him to unpack. That was even more symbolic that she was the person she used to be than that stupid sugar container. That meant she was becoming comfortable with staying her, that she was going to stay here.

She wasn’t going to stay here. And she didn’t care if it would make him a little bit happy to see that, she simply couldn’t let it happen.

Swiftly swinging her guitar off, she dropped it on the bed, moving so quickly over the bed to get to where he stood that she almost tumbled straight off the other side. “Joseph,” she called out, her voice sounding much too weak for that ordering tone she’d been in hope for.

“Stop it.”

This time her voice was stern when she grabbed his hand, yanking it back away from the boxes.

With wide eyes, he finally listened to her, studying her face closely as if she was a completely different person. “It’s just unpacking some of this crap, Keely,” he told her, his expression turning to confused as his brow furrowed.