Disclaimer: I don't own Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children Trilogy.

I stared at my phone with a forlorn expression, rubbing the very edges of my plain case without thinking much about it. My tired eyes bore into the lit-up screen. The picture staring up at me was smiling obliviously with a small bit of laughter in his eyes. His palm was reaching out, as if to reach out from the photo and knock me to the side. Or maybe cover my face with his hand. In reality, he had been just trying to cover the camera up so his picture couldn't be taken. Then again, I guess it really didn't matter what his photo looked like. It was just that: a photo.

Beside the photo was one, bolded word that always made despair crash over my form in a huge, crushing wave every time I read it: Jakey.

Seeing the name made my hands tremble and tighten against my phone as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Shuddering breaths fell from my lips and I felt a terrible weight press down on my chest. Whatever energy I had managed to cling to in the last few, terrible days drained out of my limbs all at once, causing my hunched form to slouch even more on my seat at the edge of the hotel bed. My shoulders slumped further, expressing my exhaustion and grief, but my eyelids stayed stubbornly open, despite my tiredness.

Jacob. Jakey. My son. My only child. Where had you run off to, o light of my life?

It'd barely been a week since he had suddenly vanished into thin air one night. The only thing that followed him into his missing state was the clothes that he had been wearing that day and his cellphone. In his place and few possessions place, a note and a photo had been left behind. The photo had been of my father, Abraham Portman, in his early years with a beautiful girl as they lied on top of a blanket in the grass. The note wasn't left behind by Jacob but by a girl named Emma, who claimed to have known my father and looked exactly like a girl I had seen in a bizarre dream of super-powered children (though sometimes I wondered if it really had been a dream, seeing as I had never seen the likes of her before seeing the photo).

In that week, everything had gone to hell. I and other men on Cainholm had searched the entire island for my son after notifying the police and Maryann, Jacob's mother and my wife. We found nothing but sheep, cliffs, and an abandoned, caved-in house settled near a marshy bog that was hard to navigate. After that, I hitched a ride back to the mainland with the police and was told to wait with Maryann as the police searched for Jacob.

On the first day, we had waited while an investigator studied the note and the photo. The man hadn't a clue where the photo had come from (though I wondered if Jacob had had it from his grandfather's old stash) but chalked the letter up to being someone Jacob had met on the island, though they were most-likely high on drugs when they had written the letter. After all, no one in their right mind would say they were someone that was in my father's ridiculous stories unless they were completely delusional.

I had resisted this story at first. If Jacob had run off with someone on drugs, that could easily mean he was on them as well and no parent wanted their kid addicted to something so awful. After awhile though, I came to painfully accept this as a likely possibility, as well as other scenarios, such as a mental breakdown that something on the island could have triggered. With Jacob's declining mental stability, those suggestions were much more likely than anything else, like suddenly growing a rebellious streak.

Maryann had been hysterical since the beginning, always in tears and thinking worst-case scenarios. Jacob was, and always would be, her baby boy. His sudden disappearance caused her emotions to run free, bringing up thoughts she had had before but never pondered for long because nothing bad had ever happened to us.

Her emotions and mine clashed and meshed at random times, though they seemed to have a semblance of a pattern in them. During the days, she grew distant, blaming me for Jacob's disappearance (as I often did myself) and wanting nothing to do with me. During the night, however, she frequently came to me for comfort, wondering why it had to be us that had to suffer. I did my best to bring her comfort but I never know if I do a good job or not, seeing as the next morning she's changed her mind about me.

This interesting relationship that now surrounded us (though it wasn't any worse than the one we had before) didn't stop us from wandering London's streets together though, posting missing posters down every street and inside as many public places as possible. Jacob's face was practically everywhere but no one had caught hide nor hair of him anywhere. It made my wife, the police, and I wonder if he had managed to skip town.

Sighing, I continued to stare at my son's contact photo. His bolded nickname continued to glare at me. His cell-phone number and email sat just under his name and picture, practically useless. I had tried calling, texting, and emailing dozens of times but I never got a response from anything. Never a hello or a goodbye or a note saying that he was ok… Even a message full of complete nonsense and deranged fantasies would've been fine by this point, if he was hyped up on some drug or experiencing hallucinations or delusions.

Though I knew it was pointless and stupid, I found my thumb reaching for the call button beside Jacob's number again. I knew the officer that was practically always with us for moral support would come to me afterwards and tell me I needed to stop trying. It was cruel and I was torturing myself by doing it; I knew that, though. Even if the officer told me those sentences a million times, I'd probably still keep doing it.

Maryann, I know, would immediately disapprove and voice her opinion on the matter. I knew she was in the small kitchen the apartment had, drinking some wine as we rested our aching feet from running around London's streets, searching in vain for our lost teenage son. She always did, if she wasn't sleeping or crying next to me.

I wish I could drink away my problems like she did; like I did when I was moping about my failing book back on Cainholm. However, it was by drinking that Jacob managed to slip away from me without a problem. If- when –he was found, I needed to be alert, as well. I couldn't be drunk like I was back on the island. It wouldn't be fair to Jake.

As I pressed my phone to my ear, I listened to the rings that echoed each second. I waited with bated breath and expectant dread in my stomach for the voicemail to play after how many rings it took. I already knew what was going to play. My only son's voice would recite some speech, trip over some words, and laugh a little in embarrassment before finishing what he was saying. I could never focus on the words, just the way Jacob's voice rose and dropped with emotion, a certain obliviousness lacing his tone, never knowing that one day he would run away from his life without looking back.

As I choked on a small cry, I heard something impossible in ear. It wasn't the voicemail, reciting the same speech I had heard a hundred times before. It was the same voice though. It was tired and the voice sounded like he had just woken up, groggy and rough. However, it was unmistakable and I swore my heart stopped beating for a moment in my chest before it came back, pounding relentlessly.

Jacob, my son, came over the speaker and asked, "Hello?"

For a moment, I couldn't answer before, completely unbelieving, I responded, "Jacob? Is that you?"

Somewhere behind me, I could hear the officer perking to attention and I could hear Maryann turn in her chair towards my direction. Frankly, I didn't care. Jacob- Jakey, my wonderful son –had miraculously answered his phone and I was talking to him for the first time in, what seemed to be, an eternity. I was feeling an overwhelmingly amount of relief and happiness.

With his tired voice, Jacob answered, "It's me."

I mumbled a few 'oh my Gods' under my breath, downright blown away by the conversation I was now having. I had never expected Jacob to pick up his phone or answer any of my texts or emails. It was absolutely crazy but here I was, having a conversation with him for the first time in less than a week. So little time had passed but it had gone on for so long.

"I don't-where did you-what happened- where are you, son?" I asked, not quite knowing what to ask until I came to the last question on my brain. I could feel tears running down my face but, again, I could care less.

"I'm okay." He answered. "I'm alive. In London."

Another wave of relief crashed over me. Turning around, I took my ear from the side of my phone for a moment. I called to the officer and Maryann, saying, "It's Jacob! He's in London!" Within a second, though, I had turned my full attention back to the voice on the other side of the line and ignored the two people crowding me now, trying to hear the hear the entire conversation. "We thought you were dead."

Part of this was true. We were beginning to speculate Jacob might be dead, body in a ditch or a river somewhere. However, part of us had also remained hopeful that he was alive and… 'Well' wasn't exactly a good word but we had hoped he was alive, if nothing else. If he was found traumatized or beaten and broken or maybe even worse than that, then we would deal with it. We'd put our son back together, as long as he was restored to our care.

"I know." Jacob said, voice dropping into mild sadness but his tone was also resigned to what we thought about his position. "I mean, I'm not surprised. I'm sorry about leaving the way I did. I hope I didn't scare you too much."

I couldn't help it. I retorted, "You scared us to death, Jacob." I gave a sigh. Despite the irritation I felt at my son for doing something so reckless, I also couldn't help the relief that flooded my veins, as well as some of the disbelief that had entered when he had answered the phone.

Leaving my last statement alone, I continued, "Your mother and I are in London, too. After the police couldn't find you on the island…anyway, it doesn't matter, just tell us where you are and we'll come get you!"

I must've sounded ridiculous and desperate to the boy on the other side of the line. For a moment, he didn't answer and I worried the line was dead. However, on the other side, I briefly heard another voice speak some words I couldn't make out before Jacob was speaking again, saying, "I can't come, Dad. I can't drag you into this."

Something inside me shriveled up and died. My brain immediately went back to the investigator suggesting that Jacob had been introduced to drugs. As much as I'd hoped it wasn't true, Fate seemed to have different, much more sinister plans. The relieved tears running down my face turned to sadness as I stuttered out, "Oh God, I knew it. You're on drugs, aren't you? Look, whoever you've gotten mixed up with, we can help. We don't have to bring the police into it. We just want you back."

Somehow, I knew this was a lie. An officer was standing at my side, trying to listen in on the conversation with Maryann, who seemed to side with me. I didn't care to take note of the way the officer's eyebrow rose curiously.

Jacob didn't answer my plea and, though I gave him time to answer, I couldn't help but feel more dread in my stomach. The voice I couldn't make out from earlier was back, speaking again to my son as he suddenly made a tiny gasp in pain. Then there was nothing again for a moment, just a tense stillness.

"Jacob? Jacob, are you there?"

My son didn't answer me and nothing but quiet entered my ears. I waited impatiently for a reply but didn't dare speak again. I jumped when I heard a growl, barely a whisper, in my ear but I was still silent. I was dying to know what was going on the other side of the line but I was too scared to ask, afraid of the answer. Then there was a shout and I could make out the unknown voice yelling; yelling to a girl and claiming they needed her fire, whatever that meant. As sounds of screeching metals met my ears, I straightened in my seat, setting the other two's nerves on edge as I listened to the shrieks.

I jumped and felt my blood run cold as there was a magnificent CRASH! on the other side of the line. Another quieter, shorter crash followed behind it and I was screaming my son's name, again and again. This caused Maryann to start yelling questions at me, wondering what was wrong and questioning me if Jacob was alright. The officer tried to calm us but we were both hysterical: Maryann, because she wanted to know what was going on, and me, because I didn't know the answer to her yells.

I stopped yelling when there was more of the horrific growling on the end of the line. I hoped maybe there would be another voice, saying something that would clue to where my son's whereabouts were but, once the menacing growls faded away, there was a tense silence and I wondered if the line had finally gone dead.

Just as I began to lose hope that I wouldn't hear Jacob's voice again, I heard voices again, more of them. There seemed to be three of them, one of which was Jacob's, but I couldn't make out one word of what they spoke. They were too far from the phone and speaking too softly, too calmly.

They seemed to begin drifting farther from the phone and grow quieter. I wanted to yell after them, get someone to pick the phone up, but before I could, Jacob's clear and completely awakened voice asked, "Dad?"

"What was that noise? Who are you with?" I questioned without thinking. The words rushed out of me without even a thought on my part and I mentally kicked myself for doing such a thing.

"I'm here. I'm ok."

Jacob's words irritated me beyond my understanding. How could he say such things in the situation he had foolishly gotten himself into? How could he remain so calm when he could be doing unspeakable things to himself with horrible people surrounding him?

"No, you're not. Just stay where you are."

"Dad, I have to go. I'm sorry."

Any anger I felt immediately left me in an instant. Jacob was going to hang up on me at any moment and I knew he wouldn't answer me again. I couldn't let him go now. If I did, I might never hear his voice again and that would kill me. It'd kill his mother. No, I couldn't let him get away now. We were so close to getting him home; I just had to keep him with me for a little longer and get a semblance of where he was.

"Wait, don't hang up." I quickly interjected before he could because I knew he would, if I waited too long to say anything. My voice was once again desperate and pleading, not wanting him to leave me hanging again. "You're confused, Jake."

"No. I'm like Grandpa. I have what Grandpa had."

Jacob's words filled me with such dread. I didn't want him being like my paranoid, unfaithful father. That old geezer had been completely insane and it was terrifying to think my only child had fallen into the same madness he had.

I don't know what came over me as I tearfully pleaded, "Please come home."

There was another moment and then I heard Jacob breathe in deeply. The dread grew stronger in my stomach as I recognized the way he was taking a breath. It meant he was about to say something painful for me and for him and I didn't like it. Though I didn't want to hear it, the phone stayed pressed to my ear as his voice came over the speaker again. His tone was resigned but it was also determined, completely resolved. He wouldn't let up with whatever decision he made.

"I hope I'll be able to come home, someday. But there are things I need to do first. I just want you to know I love you and Mom, and I'm not doing any of this to hurt you."

"We love you too, Jake," I said, barely noticing the way my voice cracked. "and if it's drugs, or whatever it is, we don't care. We'll get you right again. Like I said, you're confused."

Somehow, I hoped this would change him mind, get him to come home. However, he responded, "No, Dad. I'm peculiar."

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, to beg him to explain to me what he was going through, to plead with him to come home so we could resolve the issue. I wanted to tell him how much his mother and I missed him, to explain how much his absence hurt us, to go on about how his hurting pained us too. I had so many words to tell him and so many questions to ask but I never wanted his voice to go away either.

But it was too late for any of it. The line went dead, buzzing in my ear. My voice died in my throat and, as fat tears rolled down my cheeks, I wondered if I would ever know what he meant when he said peculiar.

That scene always makes my heart clench, holy crap. T.T Jacob talking to his dad at the end of Hollow City was so heart-wrenching and I always wondered what Franklin was going through on his side of the line. So, like I normally do, I wrote a story about my thoughts. As all readers of the book should have figured out, the conversation was directly taken from the book.

Oh my gosh, that SCENE though! The end of Hollow City almost killed me! And then I finished Library of Souls yesterday... I swear, if I hadn't been sitting in a truck, I would have screamed. Everything looked so bad for Jacob then- BA-BAM! -his friends saved him from being locked away! My emotions flew off the walls and I wouldn't shut up about it for half an hour. XD

Hope ya'll enjoyed! I shall be reading other things now, if you need me!