AN: Marble Eyes requested this fic a while ago, then repeated the request this week. It's mostly her idea. I think she'd write it better, but she's taking BLOODY AGES to write anything, so I wrote it. Let me know if you want me to actually write the whole thing!

Warning: angsty angst with a side helping of angst. Followed by a bit more angst.

…xxx…xxx…

My overwhelming feeling is one of panic. It's worming through my gut, squidgy and uncomfortable. My whole body feels like soggy jelly, the kind where it doesn't matter how long you chase it with a spoon, you won't be able to catch it, it will just slosh and splatter and slip around your bowl until you have to give up and throw it away. I wish I could do that to my body, but my brain is following suit.

I'm chasing a little girl. Her fair head is bobbing in front of me, her giggling like birdsong in my ears. But my legs are cooked spaghetti. They won't hold me still, they wobble and buckle under my weight. I flop down, even as the girl flits and floats away, a beautiful butterfly disappearing into the sun.

And a great black cat, as powerful as it is beautiful, prowls before me. It's terrifying and magnificent and magical and terrible, and yet I want nothing more than to give myself over. I want it to own me. I'd let it eat me if it wanted. I reach out for it. Its fur feels like velvet and satin against my fingertips, but it's already gone.

The light changes. Something so hot it burns my eyes flames above me. I hide from it, the pain and the brightness. I can't go there, I need the darkness. I cover my face but there is a band around my wrists. I can't do anything. There's no strength in my arms anyway.

"Hush," says a voice, smooth and gentle, "hush now. It's all going to be OK."

I try to ask "What's going on?" My lips and tongue are as heavy as my limbs, and I hear a voice moaning within me.

"It's going to be fine," the voice soothes, and I don't want to believe it. I want to fly away from it like the butterfly girl, I want to tear it apart with the strength of the great cat. I push my useless body, but I may as well be a dead slug for how far I get.

"Shh," soothes the voice. "It's all going to be fine. I will look after you. I promise, you. I'm never going to let you down again."

I want to ask, but I can't tell where the voice is coming from. I don't understand. My mind is as wobbly as my body. I see the little girl again. She's there in the light, shining. Maybe she's an angel.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

"Where is he?"

Amy's eyes are wide and streaked with read. To Brendan she looks a mess, her hair lank and greasy, her skin sallow and even paler than usual. "What?" he asks, holding in a yawn.

"Where is he?" Amy repeats but this time pulling out the words. It's not for his benefit, it's so she can put as much fury and hatred into the words as she can.

Brendan's waking up now though. He's trying to make sense of the words.

"Steven?" he asks. She must be talking about Steven; there's no one else she would react like this over. But it still doesn't make sense.

"Why isn't he answering his phone?" she demands, "What have you done to him?"

Brendan feels the twisting of panic inside him. "What have I…? I thought he was with you," he says.

"Oh don't give me that!" Amy snarls. "You've hurt him again, haven't you? Just tell me!"

Brendan blinks. She must be mad. The possibility that Steven is missing is too horrid to contemplate. He won't let it pass his mind. "Where is he?"

"JUST TELL ME, BRENDAN!" Amy screams in his face. "TELL ME!"

There's a sound of a siren, getting closer and closer. Amy doesn't turn, but Brendan is joining the dots.

"Steven… what's... where…?"

No words form. His vision is turning red with his fury and hatred and the all-consuming feelings he has for Steven. He cannot be missing.

"I got your email!" Amy shouts, "Just tell me! Brendan, tell me! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO STE?!"

There is a muddle around Brendan. Where is Steven? He was with Brendan just yesterday, feet in Brendan's lap, spraying pastry on his jumper when Brendan made him laugh. He was just "popping back to see the kids". What is Amy talking about?

"YOU BASTARD!" Amy screams. "YOU BASTARD! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL! TELL ME WHERE HE IS! PLEASE! PLEASE!"

Police are running up his stairs. Armed police. They're shouting orders at him, but he is speechless, frozen to the spot. What is going on?

Someone says his name, says something he can't follow. His heart is pounding. Amy is glaring at him like he's the worst example of a human. Someone's roughly manhandling him, cuffing him. He doesn't even know what for.

"Steven," he gasps.