Mike was waiting for Shane outside of Marlena's office when he finished his session.

"How 'bout we head to Sheffield pub and have a pint or two?"

"Sounds like heaven right about now, Mike. You have no idea how badly I need this." Shane is grateful he has Mike as his best mate and confidant.

After arriving at the bar and ordering their first round, Mike initiates the conversation he's been wanting to have with his best friend for some time now.

"I know Marlena probably shrunk your head enough for today but I just want you to know I'm here for you if you want to talk..." Mike pauses, trying to find the right words without sounding too much like an after-school special ( cue the shooting star & 'the more you know' ) "...about anything, ya know. I mean I think of you like a brother and I just couldn't imagine if..." Mike intentionally lets his voice trail off mid sentence.

Shane stares at his almost empty glass of Boddingtons, waiting for Mike to get it all off his chest.

Mike signals the bartender to get Shane another round before continuing, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying in any way, shape, or form I think I could replace your brother." Mike nervously rubs his left thumb along the Sheffield logo on his second glass of Guinness. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that none of us can truly know how you feel, having not been through it ourselves, but we know it's gotta suck so..."

Sensing how much Mike is struggling, Shane puts him out of his misery, "Mike, it's okay. I know you're here for me and you just want to help. I get it, it's alright." Shane takes a deep breath trying to find the courage to carry on. "I miss my brother almost every single day and any day I don't think of him, I feel guilty as hell for being a shit brother and a lousy excuse for a human being. I know I can't turn back time or change anything that happened and Marlena's right when she tells me to live my best life to honour my brother but it just doesn't seem like enough."

Shane slams the remaining Boddingtons in his glass and swiftly picks up the refill. He has every intention of drinking his troubles away today in an effort to numb the pain of his freshly tapped raw emotions. Shane and Mike continue to have a few more rounds as they sit in silence.

Shane never allowed himself to properly grieve his brother, always feeling he didn't deserve to cleanse his soul. No, he only deserved to suffer for what he did.

Breaking the silence, Shane cries out, "I killed him, Mike. I killed my baby brother." Shane buries his head in his hands as the tears start to fall. For the first time in twenty plus years, Shane is facing his demons head on. He lifts his head and roughly wipes the tears from his face, annoyed by his own frailties and self-pity. "I know I have to forgive myself, Mike, but how? How can I possibly atone for this most heinous of sins?"

Seeing the anguish on his best friend's face, Mike wants nothing more than to alleviate Shane's suffering but even he knows a higher power is required for a case of this magnitude. There's only so much comfort a psychiatrist, best friend, and several pints of alcohol can provide. Three down and one to go, Mike thinks to himself.

"I think you should talk to Pastor Doug. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, how 'bout we throw some darts?"

"Sure, if you don't mind me kickin' your ass." The alcohol may be fogging Shane's recollection of his supposed dart throwing prowess.

"Care to make it interesting, Admiral?" Mike is quick to attempt to capitalize on his friend's unrealistic, alcohol fueled confidence.

"What did you have in mind, doctor?" Shane is more curious than suspicious at this point.

"Loser cleans the winner's room, including the bathroom, and washes and cleans his car." Mike knows he comes out a winner either way. Shane's military background has made him a total neat freak. He's beyond OCD when it comes to cleanliness. His car is spotless and his room is hospital clean. Ironic, as Mike's the surgeon and a bit of a slob. You can literally bounce a quarter off Shane's impeccably made bed on any given day.

"You're on." That last glass of Boddingtons has definitely clouded Shane's faculties.

Mike easily wipes the floor with Shane. Not a difficult feat, considering Shane can't even walk a straight line at this point. Beyond thrilled he won't have to clean this week, Mike starts making a list of chores for Shane on the cab ride back to the Center.

The next day

Mike and Shane, now sober after ten hours of sleep, are taking the girls out for breakfast on one of the last days of summer. It's a tradition that began the summer before the girls started kindergarten and has continued every year since.

Shane's pov

As Mike and Rick retrieve Mike's car from Sheffield pub, I head over to the girls' room to round them up for breakfast.

"Hold on," Stacey shouts, hearing me knocking.

When she opens the door, I'm appalled by the state of their room. I slowly enter with my mouth agape, taking in the mess that surrounds me.

"Girls, when's the last time you cleaned this room?"

I can't believe they've let it get this bad. There are clothes, food wrappers, papers and miscellaneous rubbish covering not only the floor but their beds as well. Seeing all this clutter gives me anxiety.

"I don't know. Who cares anyway?" Lisa replies dismissively.

"Yeah, it's our room, don't worry about it," Stacey chimes in, as she's tossing clothes aside, apparently searching for something in the sea of waste formerly known as their floor.

"I CARE!" I shout, slamming their door and simultaneously garnering their attention. "When we get back from breakfast, the four of you are going to clean this mess until it's spotless." I try to ease my stress by rubbing my forehead. "Do I even want to know the current state of your bathroom?"

"I'm pretty sure it's in the same state we reside in. I don't think it's geographically beyond the borderline." Ah Julie, ever the smartass.

"The four of you SIT DOWN, NOW!" I point to Carrie's bed as it's the only one they could all possibly find an empty spot to occupy.

"Hold on, I can't find my headphones." Stacey is still fruitlessly rummaging through the debris.

I pull her up by the back of her shirt and physically deposit her on Carrie's bed.

"That wasn't a suggestion, Stacey, and when I tell you to do something, you best do it immediately. Understand?" I'm quickly losing my patience.

"Geez relax, Shane. You wildin,' bruh."

"I don't know if you're even speaking English right now, Stacey, but I do know you better curb your attitude before you find yourself in a very uncomfortable position. Am I clear?" Stacey should know by my tone and body language, I'm not fooling around.

"Yeah, yeah, it's Gucci."

Stacey continues to push me closer to my limit.

"STACEY MARIE!" I narrow my eyes as I give her a very cold, unforgiving look.

Recognizing she's dangerously close to taking things too far and sleeping on her stomach tonight, Stacey swallows hard and says, "Yes sir, I understand."

With a scowl still on my face and my hands on my hips, I continue lecturing the girls, "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted..." I give Stacey another warning glance before continuing. "When we get back from breakfast, you are cleaning this place from top to bottom AND you are going to clean Mike's bedroom, bathroom, and car inside and out." Two birds one stone, I think to myself.

"Mike has a list of chores you'll need to finish as well. Let me make this clear. Everything better be completed to my specifications or you will not enjoy the consequences, girls, because I will employ one of my former CO's favorite punishments."

Having their undivided attention, the girls look at me expectantly.

"Running, long and hard. Long distances at a hard pace."

The girls' eyes widen as they look at me in shock.

"I do not like the sound of that, gov'nor," Stacey says sadly, in a rather exaggerated British accent.

I shake my head and laugh, "Just get ready to go to breakfast. We leave in five."

Later that day

After a nice breakfast out, Shane heads to church to speak to Pastor Doug while Mike gets the girls started on their cleaning detail and list of chores.

It takes the girls the better part of four hours to get everything done, at which time Mike critiques the cleanliness of his car while Shane judges the girls' room.

Mike circles his car a few times and checks out both the front and back seats.

Carrie bites her lip as she hears him vocalize his displeasure, "Hmmmm," while eyeing the streaks left on the passenger side back window and the straw wrappers left under the driver's side floor mat.

"Oh, come on! You have got to be kidding us with this." Lisa cannot believe Shane is literally doing a white glove check on their dusting efforts.

He makes a point of running his gloved finger across their bookshelves, picture frames, desks, baseboards and bed frames.

"Tsk tsk." Shane examines the gray smudges left on his fingertips from the areas the girls missed.

After conferring with each other, the two guardians come to a consensus on the girls' cleaning and sanitation skills.

"You did a good job, girls. Shane and I are proud of the effort you put forth." Mike smiles warmly before raining on their parade, "However, you did overlook a few spots in my car and in your room."

"So get your sneakers on, girls, 'cause it's time to start runnin'," Shane says, with a sly grin on his face.

"Uggghhhh," the girls all moan in response.

"Two laps around the perimeter of the grounds, ladies. Let's go."

The girls reluctantly put their shoes on and follow Shane and Mike outside, whining and complaining the entire way.

"Finish in thirty minutes or less and you're done. Anyone taking longer gets to run another two laps. Your time starts now, ladies. GO!" Shane pretends to start the stopwatch he's holding in his right hand.

The girls start jogging at a decent pace, their grumblings fading as they get further away.

"You're not going to time them?" Mike asks, seeing as Shane has yet to activate the timer.

"No," Shane laughs. "I never had any intention of timing them. I'm just bein' an arse."