To Carcaohtar: Shorten the author's notes. Got it! Thanks so much for the input!

To Lyn: Yay! Compelling! If it's Freddy-boy you want, you've got him! This chapter is chock full of our favorite super-tall-French-chief-orderly-turned-inmate-descendent-of-Napoleon-Bonaparte! Thanks for the review!

To Fireflyoflight457: Yay! I'm tickled that you like it so far! Thanks for the review!

Well, folks, I've got two votes for 'go for slash', so slash it shall (hopefully) be. I'll do my best…

CHAPTER TWO

And so it was, that very morning, Anita and Demetri said farewell to the children and staff of the orphanage and climbed into the cab that took them to the train station. They were both pretty quiet throughout the train ride.

"It was very kind of Doctor Bonaparte to do all of this for us." Demetri said softly.

"I know. He was very enthusiastic about meeting you…and 'e is getting us to him in a private, first class booth on this lovely train!" Anita said.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, because I doubt we'll ever do anything like this again." Demetri chuckled. Anita chuckled too.

"Indeed." She said.

"Doctor Bonaparte sounds like a very nice man." Demetri said.

"Oh, 'e is. I learned about him on ze news. Zey were talking about 'ow 'e is a world renouned psychiatrist and 'ow 'e takes great care of each and every case 'e is faced with. Ze Psychonauts would give zeir two front teeth and a butt cheek to get him under contract; but 'e 'as refused every time 'e is asked. 'E is known to be quite the philanthropist. 'E does a lot of cases with less fortunate people who really need ze 'elp and 'e pays for zem 'imself. 'E 'as yet to give up on a case. Sometimes, ze Psychonauts send some of zeir cases to him!" Anita said.

"Money, credentials, and compassion…a rare combination indeed." Demetri said. Anita nodded.

"'E 'as a big 'eart. You know, 'e is actually a descendent of ZE Napoleon Bonaparte! 'Is inheritance is 'ow 'e acquired 'is vast fortune." Anita said. Demetri chuckled.

"I wonder if he shares Napoleon's height issues." Demetri said. Anita elbowed him.

"Demetri! Zat is not nice." She scolded gently.

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Demetri said.

"Anyway, I don't know what Dr. Bonaparte looks like. When zey spoke with him on ze news, it was over ze phone." Anita explained. She snapped her fingers as a new though entered her mind.

"And, you know, 'e used to be an inmate at ze same asylum zat 'e first worked at as a chief orderly!" Anita said.

"You don't say…what an interesting man…" Demetri said. Anita nodded. Demetri and Anita noticed that the train was coming to a stop as they approached the station ahead.

"Zis is our stop." Anita said. Demetri nodded nervously. It seemed like an eternity before the train finally stopped completely. Demetri and Anita took their luggage and exited the train. They both couldn't help but gape when they saw the man holding a sign with their names on it; and they weren't the only ones staring.

Almost everyone on the platform was staring at the ridiculously tall, thin, long legged man with short brown hair. He wore a pair of black slacks and a white turtleneck with a long, black leather trench coat over it. He pushed a pair of small, delicate, rectangular silver framed glasses up further on the bridge of his nose. What intimidation the man invoked height-wise was canceled by the kindness in his face. He had very gentle dark green eyes that glittered contently. A serene, tranquil smile graced his lips and his posture was dignified, but relaxed. He looked to still be pretty young; in his late twenties or early thirties.

Demetri and Anita stared a moment at one another before approaching the man hesitantly. Demetri's heart was racing. The man looked incredibly familiar to him…He smiled down at them kindly. His smile faded quickly when he spotted Demetri. After a few moments, he blinked rapidly and shook his head. His smile returned.

"Might you two be the lovely Madame Anita and the dashing Monsieur Demetri?" He asked, his voice gentle and sweet. Demetri and Anita couldn't help but smile back.

"Zat all depends; might you be our gracious host, ze infamous Dr. Bonaparte?" Anita asked. The man smiled.

"Please, Madame. Call me Fred." The man said, bowing to her politely. Anita giggled and curtsied back. Fred extended his had to Anita to shake hands with her. Anita took his hand. He leaned over and kissed it lightly before shaking it.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Madame." Fred said.

"Ze pleasure is mine, Fred. Please, you may call me Anita." Anita said.

"Very well, Anita." Fred said with a smile. He turned to Demetri.

"And this dashing young man must be Monsieur Demetri." Fred said. He shook hands with Demetri.

"Yes sir. It is a great honor to meet you. Thank you for all your help." Demetri said.

"Don't thank me yet. We haven't even started!" Fred chuckled. "I shall greatly enjoy working with you, though."

Fred insisted on helping Anita and Demetri with their bags as they boarded a bus.

"You see, my abnormal height makes driving any sort of car rather uncomfortable and dangerous. I could get a custom built car, but it would look too much like a monster truck, so I just ride the bus. It's cheaper, less of a hassle, and better for the environment." Fred chuckled sheepishly. Anita and Demetri couldn't help but laugh as well.

"I'll bet the two of you are hungry after your long trip. I know of a lovely little café on the way home that serves the perfect warm meals for cold winter days." Fred offered.

"That sounds wonderful, thank you." Anita said. They all got off the bus at the next stop and walked half a block to a little café called 'Francesco's'. On the inside, the walls were painted with murals of beautiful blue harbors with ships out on the water. The skies held a few wispy white clouds and various ocean birds were stationed throughout the mural.

The tables and chairs were made of a dark, smooth, glossy wood, as were the floors. It almost felt like being on a ship deck looking around at the ocean.

There were only a few people in the little café. Fred pulled out a chair at a nearby table and motioned for Antia to sit. Anita curtsied politely and sat, allowing Fred to push her chair in. He and Demetri seated themselves next to her. It was only a few minutes before a waitress came and took their orders. Demetri caught Fred giving him a strange look…it was a look of sadness…but as soon as Fred realized that Demetri was looking back, he quickly looked away.

"Is something wrong, Fred?" Anita asked, having noticed the look.

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just that Demetri looks remarkably like a little boy I used to know back in the states…" Fred said, smiling sadly. "He passed away some years ago. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him."

"Oh, how sad…'ow did 'e die?" Anita asked. Fred frowned slightly. There was a slight anger in his eyes.

"He was murdered by anti-psychic extremists. He didn't even live to see his fourteenth birthday." Fred said softly. Anita put a hand over her mouth.

"'Ow 'orrible!" She gasped. Fred was looking carefully into Demetri's eyes, his expression curious.

"Tell me, Demetri; that is…if you don't mind my asking…you are a psychic yourself, are you not?" Fred asked. Demetri and Anita looked at one another nervously.

"Don't worry, I have nothing against psychics. In fact, I have had many psychic friends as well as clients throughout the years. It's the Psychonauts I tend to disagree with nowadays. But, if you would rather not say, that's perfectly fine." Fred said.

"I'm not a powerful one, but I am one nonetheless. How'd you know?" Demetri asked.

"Something about your eyes and the energy you give off. It's kinda hard to explain." Fred said. There was the soft jingling of a bell as another customer walked into the café. His face was concealed behind the cover of a very large book written in an unfamiliar language. The young man had short, glossy, jet black hair and wore a pair of khaki slacks and his dark blue trench coat was buttoned up over his shirt. He wore a set of white leather gloves, and a khaki scarf was draped around his neck. Without even looking up from his book, the young man crossed the room and sat down at the bar. Fred laughed.

"Speaking of familiar faces…" Fred chuckled. "Would you please excuse me for a moment?"

Demetri and Anita excused Fred, who walked over and sat beside the young man, who had just asked the waitress for some coffee without so much as glancing up from his book.

"Well, would you look who's back from Egypt!" Fred exclaimed, patting the young man on the back. He didn't even look up from his book.

"Hello, Fred." He said in a soft, low voice.

"How was Egypt?" Fred asked. The young man turned the page in his book and still didn't look up.

"It was quite fascinating. An archeological paradise. The artifacts, the cultures, the history, the architecture…absolutely incredible." The young man said in the same soft, low tone.

"Sounds like you enjoyed yourself." Fred said.

"I did. I visited pyramids, tombs, the sphinx…I saw it all." The young man said.

"What'll your next destination be?" Fred asked.

"The Mayan ruins in the jungles that were once home to Aztec, Mixtec, and various other advanced early Indian civilizations. It should be interesting to see how the two cultures compare. Both are said to be of the most splendid architecture and are both rich in history and there plenty of artifacts to be found and natives to learn from." The young man said, still not taking his eyes off of his book.

"I thought you went to the Mayan Ruins before." Fred said. He gasped when he saw the waitress trip and the tray she carried toppled out of her hand. The young man raised his hand, still not even looking up from his book. The waitress was suspended an inch or so off of the ground, looking shocked, and the tray of food was suspended beside her. The cup of coffee was tipped over and the liquid itself was floating in the air. None of it ever touched the ground.

"I did, but only for a few days. I only got to get a glimpse of the outside of the ruins." The young man said. With a flick of the young man's wrist, the food replaced itself onto the tray and the drinks back to their glasses. The waitress was set gently back on her feet and the tray floated patiently in front of her, waiting for her to take it.

The woman stared at the young man, who STILL hadn't taken his eyes off of his book, as she took the tray from mid-air. Once she had it securely in her hands, the young man moved his raised hand to his book and moved it in a sweeping motion over the top of the page. The page turned. The waitress approached him, a little shaken, and handed him his coffee.

"Thanks for the save. Here's your coffee, sir." The waitress said.

"No problem and thank you." The young man said. Without even moving a muscle, a packet of sugar flew up from its holder in front of the young man, ripped itself open, and poured itself into his coffee. In the same fashion, a container of creamer dumped itself into his coffee, and the empty container along with the sugar packed threw themselves into the trashcan. The young man lifted his hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of his face, then rested his elbow on the bar so that his hand hovered over his coffee. He moved it in a lazy, circular motion, and the straw began to move, stirring the coffee. Fred chuckled.

"No matter how many times I see you do that, it's still so damn cool." Fred said.

"It is admittedly pretty handy at times." The young man said. STILL not looking up from his book, the young man fished a five out of his pocket and set it on the counter. He got to his feet, holding his coffee in one hand, and holding his book up in front of him with the other.

"Well, I really must be getting back home. I need to keep working on my reports." The young man said.

"Alright. It's good to see you again. Good luck with those reports." Fred said.

"It has been nice seeing you again as well, Fred. Perhaps I'll take a short break from my reports and we may have lunch together and have a real chat before I ship off to the Mayan Ruins. I'm just so busy right now." The young man said.

"That'd be great. Just give me a call when you have the time." Fred said.

"I'll be sure to do that." The young man said.

"Take care of yourself." Fred said.

"I will. I'll see you around, Fred." The young man said as he headed out the door.

"Bye." Fred called. There was a soft tinkering of bells as the door shut behind the young man.

"See you? His eyes never left that book!" Demetri chuckled. Fred chuckled too.

"He's a busy guy. He studies archeology, foreign customs, foreign language, history…all that kind of stuff. He's pretty soft spoken out in public…he keeps it short, sweet, and to the point…but get him alone, and he has some of the most incredible stories about his adventures and he tells them with such detail that you can just imagine yourself right there beside him." Fred said.

"'E IS a busy man…" Anita said. She, Fred, and Demetri enjoyed a nice hot meal in the café (which Fred definitely had a good basis for his recommendation) and boarded the next bus.

"I've made things easy for you as far as sleeping arrangements. I have prepared a wing of the Bonaparte Family Estate for you two to live in during your stay." Fred said, pointing out the window as the bus began to slow. A glorious white mansion stood proudly behind a set of magnificent stone walls. Anita and Demetri were speechless as they stared at the enormous building. Fred chuckled as he grabbed some of their luggage.

"I get that a lot." He laughed. Demetri and Anita snapped out of their stupors and blushed as they took the rest of their luggage. Fred led them up to the magnificent estate, telling them about how and when it was built.

"It is very beautiful…" Anita breathed as Fred held the door open for her and Demetri.

"Thank you." Fred said. He led them to their rooms and gave them the grand tour of the estate.

"So my office is right here next to the library." Fred explained, opening a set of double doors and beckoning them inside. The room had lush cream colored carpet and a great stone fireplace where currently, a fire was crackling pleasantly from the hearth. There were various manors of chairs and couches. Fred motioned for them to have a seat.

"This is where we will hold our sessions." Fred said, taking a seat across from them.

"Whatever time of day is good for you is when we can work." Fred said. "We could start now if you wanted to."

Demetri nodded.

"I think I'd like to do that." Demetri said.

"Alright then." Fred said, taking a clip board and a pencil off of a nearby table.

"Anita tells me that she found you badly injured on the street around seven years ago. You don't know how you got there or what happened to you or where you came from or who you were before you were found." Fred said. Demetri nodded.

"She also tells me that you've had dreams with familiar people in them. Can you describe the dreams to me and how they made you feel?" Fred asked.

"I can do one better. I have them all written down." Demetri said. He pulled a small journal out of his pocket. Fred looked pleased.

"Perfect! I was going to suggest that you keep a dream log!" Fred said. Demetri handed the little book to Fred.

"It has every dream I can remember logged in there along with profiles of all the people in the dreams; complete with sketches…though I'm not the best artist…physical descriptions, personality descriptions, and things they've done and said…and in some cases, names." Demetri explained.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Fred exclaimed. After that, he talked to Anita and Demetri individually. While one of them was talking to Fred, the other was in the library. Fred asked Demetri questions about his life at the orphanage and if he was happy. Fred asked Anita to tell him all about how she had found Demetri. The wounds he had, how he behaved…everything. She also asked her about Demetri's life at the orphanage and if she believed he was happy. By the time they called it quits, it was nine at night.

"Well, I can't do anything more until I've read through this dream log. We can resume again tomorrow morning after breakfast, if you'd like." Fred offered as he led them to their rooms.

"Sounds good to me." Demetri said.

"Alright, then. After breakfast it is. Goodnight, Anita. Goodnight, Demetri. There's a pen and paper in the drawer to the nightstand if you have another dream and wish to write it down." Fred said.

"Alright. Thank you, Fred. Goodnight." Demetri said. Fred gave them a wave farewell as they walked into their rooms and he headed back toward his. As he was walking down the halls, the phone started ringing. So, Fred did the natural thing and answered it.

It was thirty minutes later when Fred sighed as he strolled into the little bar. An urgent call had summoned him to this local bar. A friend of his, who happened to live in the apartment next door to another friend of his had called him about a half hour ago with an urgent message.

"It's the Psychonauts, Fred. They showed up at our apartment complex again to harass Vernon. They're gone now, but I'm worried about Vernon…He went down to the bar…you know the one…and you know that that's never a good sign."

So, Fred had gotten to the bar as soon as possible to try to help. He found Vernon in his usual seat at a table in the corner at the bar. He was wearing the same khaki slacks, dark blue trench coat, white gloves, and tan scarf as he had been wearing earlier when he had bumped into him in the café earlier that day. He also still had his nose in that same book as before.

A tall, blonde man a little older than Vernon was leaning against Vernon's table, smiling at Vernon charmingly. Vernon showed no interest toward the man. He kept his attention on his book as always.

"Whatsa matter, huh? You shy or something? Come on, cutie, I don't bite. Close-a that book and let-a me buy you a drink!" The man said with a thick Italian accent. Vernon's attention remained on the book.

"What? You don't speak-a English or something?" The man asked.

"Oh, I speak English among many other languages quite fluently. I'm just savvy enough toward your advances to know that you're looking for a decent piece of eye-candy that would be easy to get back to your room." Vernon said, his voice soft and completely unphased. Just like at the café, his eyes never even left his book. The man looked flabbergasted.

"Wha-…no, baby! I'm-a here to find-a someone special to spend-a the rest of my life with!" The man said. Vernon rolled his eyes.

"Mmm hmm. Well, I'm sorry, but you've come to the wrong guy. Keep looking. Good luck with that." Vernon said, turning the page of his book. For a brief second, the man looked embarrassed and angry, but his expression turned back to the same charming smile as before.

"How can-a either of us be sure if you won't give-a me a chance, huh?" The man asked. He snaked his arm around Vernon's shoulders. Without taking his attention from his book, Vernon removed the man's arm from around him.

"Because, my date is already here." Vernon said, gesturing toward Fred. The blonde man paled when he saw Fred towering over him.

"Oh, uh…my mistake." The man said sheepishly before scrambling off. Fred chuckled and took a seat beside Vernon.

"He was looking to get laid. That's all anyone's ever looking for when they approach me. They think they're so smooth and I'm so naïve." Vernon said. He chuckled softly. "They're just too dumb to realize I'm smarter than that."

Fred shrugged.

"Not everyone's like that." Fred said.

"Just the ones who come to me." Vernon said.

"How can you be so sure of their intentions?" Fred asked.

"I can feel their inner sleaze. It's intoxicating." Vernon said, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'll know when someone approaches me sincerely. By now, I've learned how to tell the difference. Otherwise, I won't even bother to give them the time of day. No brains, no tact, no chance." Vernon said. Fred chuckled.

"I'll have to remember that one." Fred said.

"You've seen these guys, Fred. They whisper to each other. They have a contest to see who can get laid the fastest. They think they're irresistible. They think a corny one liner pickup, a little flirting, and some corny 'prince charming' vow will work every time. They just can't comprehend why it could possibly fail. It's annoying." Vernon said. Fred chuckled softly.

"I've been there before. I'll be your 'date' tonight if it means they'll leave you alone. We can just call this our lunch get together." Fred said. He leaned back in his seat.

"Maybe you wouldn't get hit on so much if you didn't seek refuge in this gay bar every time you get really upset." Fred said. Vernon shrugged.

"I get hit on either way." Vernon said.

"Besides, this place has the best vodka around." Vernon added, taking a sip of his drink. Fred sighed.

"Vernon, you know that you don't handle your alcohol well. Remember how you got when you just had that one beer?" Fred asked. Vernon took another sip of his drink.

"No, I was too drunk to remember what I did, but I was told about it. I'm told I tend to exchange my shy, submissive persona for a more sarcastic and cynical side." Vernon said.

"I rest my case." Fred said.

"I do know that I can't handle my liquor; and as a matter of fact, I'm relying on that knowledge tonight." Vernon said bitterly.

"Getting drunk won't solve anything, Vernon. You know that. This isn't like you." Fred said. Vernon's expression darkened and he took a longer draft from his drink.

"Franke called me and told me that the Psychonauts were over at your place. She's worried about you, you know." Fred said. Vernon's expression had shifted to a full blown scowl. For the first time since he had returned from Egypt, Vernon doggy-eared the page in his book and shut it. He looked into Fred's eyes.

"I suppose she told you that I slammed the door in their faces, too. Let me tell you something, I'm not the least bit sorry about it. I'd gladly do it again; and the next time they come around my place, I won't be so polite as I was today." Vernon said. Fred chuckled.

"Hey, you don't hear me scolding you about it!" Fred laughed. Vernon smirked slightly. Fred leaned over the table and spoke a little more quietly.

"So, what'd they want this time?" Fred asked. Vernon scowled.

"Same as always. They want me to return to the force and share my work so they can take credit for it and so they can have control over me and etcetera." Vernon said. He chuckled darkly.

"They even had the gall to say that they'd pardon me from my past offences and clear my record!" Vernon spat. Fred scowled.

"Oh-ho-ho! They'll pardon you!? That's rich!" Fred said. "Those egotistic bastards…"

"You'd better give me a sip of that…" Fred said. He took a drink of Vernon's vodka.

"Pardon you…please…they should be begging you for forgiveness!" Fred said.

"Don't worry. The dead will return to the land of the living before I return to the Psychonauts." Vernon said. His expression softened.

"It doesn't matter either way…nothing they can do would change what happened to Elton." Vernon said softly. Fred reached over the table and put his hand over Vernon's.

"I'm afraid you're right." Fred said softly. "What happened with you and him…it was really messed up. They were in the wrong. Not you and not Elton."

Vernon nodded solemnly and sighed.

"I know what you're going to say next and you're right. Even though you never met Elton, you've heard enough about him from me to know that he wouldn't like seeing me do this…drinking to forget my problems…it's not like me." Vernon said. Fred smiled and nodded. Vernon took one last small sip and pushed the drink toward Fred.

"You take the rest. I'm going to go home and make sure that I have a report that'll surpass what the Psychonauts have to the point that their team will crawl under a rock and stay there for the rest of their lives." Vernon said with a smug smirk. Fred downed the remaining half glass of vodka and patted Vernon on the back.

"That's the spirit, Vern." Fred said. Vernon smiled slightly.

"Actually, it's vodka." Vernon said. Fred chuckled.

"Come on. I'll walk back with you so the sleaze-balls don't get any brilliant ideas about following you home." Fred said. So, Fred walked Vernon back to his apartment.

"If the Psychonauts come back, call me, Vernon. I don't want you doing anything that might give them a real offense to pardon you from." Fred said. Vernon pouted slightly.

"Okay; but I will not be polite or pleasant to them if they turn up again." Vernon said.

"And I'm not saying you should be." Fred said. Vernon smirked.

"Maybe, since they've made it to where I can't get a restraining order against them, if I do something particularly nasty, they'll get a restraining order against me…" Vernon said. Fred laughed.

"Don't go there, Vernon." Fred said. Vernon pouted again.

"Killjoy." He said as he unlocked the door to his apartment.

"Goodnight, Vernon." Fred said.

"Night, Fred." Vernon said, shutting the door behind him. The next door over cracked open a little. A young woman with medium length orange hair peered out at Fred. She pushed the door open a little more. She was clad in a pair of yellow pajamas, a light green bathrobe, light blue socks, and pink slippers.

"Thank you, Fred." She said with a smile.

"No problem, Franke. Give me a call if the Psychonauts show up here again, okay? I'm afraid Vernon might do something stupid." Fred said. Franke rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry. I'll call." Franke said.

"Goodnight, Franke." Fred said as he turned to head back to his house.

"Goodnight, Fred." Franke called after him. For Fred, the walk home became very uneasy as he turned down the street where his house was located. The lights were dim and Fred could hear a car creeping along slowly behind him at a reasonable distance. Fred didn't dare look back. He kept a steady pace up to his house and dashed up the driveway, fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket. He heard the car pull up to the curb and the door open and close.

As Fred began to unlock the front door of his home, he heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow behind him. Fred whirled around quickly, delivering a swift roundhouse kick as he turned. There was a sharp cry of surprise and Fred's pursuer ducked just in time to avoid the blow. A stout man a few years older than Fred stood at the foot of the steps leading up to the door. He wore a dark blue delivery service uniform.

"What the hell, Fred? You gonna judo-toss me or something?" The man asked. Fred smiled and blushed deeply.

"Sorry, Boyd. You startled me. I usually don't have anyone following me down my street and up to my door at ten at night." Fred said. Boyd chuckled.

"Sorry I startled you. I was on my way home and our conversation was cut short this morning by that phone call you got, so I thought I'd drop by for a bit." Boyd said.

"At ten at night? You get off at four in the afternoon!" Fred said. Boyd nodded.

"I dropped by earlier, but you weren't there. I was on my way back from the store when I saw you walking down your road. I hung back because it took me a minute to realize it was you; so I followed you to your house, nearly got my head kicked off, and here we are." Boyd said.

"Is now a bad time?" Boyd asked. Fred shook his head.

"Not at all. Come on in. I'll make hot chocolate for two." Fred said.

"With milk, of course." He added teasingly. Boyd smiled.

"You know me all too well." Boyd said. Fred opened the door and the two of them sat down in the dining room. Boyd stared at Fred.

"Fred, I smell vodka…have you been drinking?" Boyd asked incredulously. Fred chuckled.

"Not exactly. I got a call from Franke earlier. Apparently, the Psychonauts are harassing Vernon again; so Vernon got caught up in old memories and went down to the bar and I went to talk to him. He and I split a glass of vodka." Fred explained.

"Oh, okay. I didn't know he was back. How'd it go?" Boyd asked.

"The same old problem with the Psychonauts. He's at home, a bit buzzed from the vodka, but safe and warm. I talked to him. He'll be fine." Fred said. Boyd nodded and smiled as Fred handed him a mug of hot chocolate. Fred chuckled as he took a seat across from Boyd at the table.

"I'll tell you though, for someone as reserved as he is, Vernon can be surprisingly scathingly cynical with a little alcohol. You should have seen the way he handled this Italian guy that was coming onto him." Fred laughed. "Vernon really told him off. He wasn't taking any shit tonight."

Boyd laughed too.

"So, how was your route today? Is that dog on 6th North Avenue still chasing you?" Fred asked. Boyd sighed.

"Yep, and today he nearly had me." Boyd chuckled.

"I say next time it comes after you, just run it over in your truck. That thing's vicious, and you know that the owners will never do anything to get it to change if they don't even care enough to keep it out of the streets." Fred said. Boyd nodded.

"Well, both the dog and its owners will think twice about messing with me from now on." Boyd chuckled darkly. Fred smiled.

"What'd you do?" Fred asked.

"I was on their front porch making a delivery and the dog came at me. I know the woman who lives in the house saw the whole thing; but, to defend myself, I broke the package I was delivering right over the beast's thick head. It ran off with its tail between its legs and the woman looked absolutely livid! Apparently, there was an ugly antique vase in that package worth a good two thousand dollars!" Boyd laughed. Fred laughed too.

"And the great part is that the lady can't do a god damned thing about it, even if she had it on tape, because it was in self defense. So, she lost her two thousand dollar butt-ugly vase, which, I think, I did her a favor by smashing, and the dog freaking peed itself running away from me." Boyd laughed.

"Very nice!" Fred said.

"It won't matter for too much longer what they do with that dog. This weekend, I'm going to pass that exam and become a real police officer!" Boyd said confidentally.

"I know you'll do it, too, Boyd. I'll be there cheering you on." Fred said. Boyd blushed slightly.

"Thanks, Fred. It means a lot." Boyd said. "So, erm…uh…What about you? How was your day?"

"Well, I picked up my latest case from the train station and I tried to catch you on your route at Francesco's Café; but I guess I missed you. That's where I ran into Vernon for the first time since he got back and he told me about his trip to Egypt." Fred said.

"How was his trip?" Boyd asked.

"As usual, he didn't say a lot and had his nose buried in a book through the entire conversation. However, he did say that he had a good time. Apparently, he's shipping off to visit the Mayan Ruins next." Fred explained. He trailed off, deep in thought.

"Did something else happen?" Boyd asked.

"Well, it's about the two people I picked up at the station this morning…the woman who called this morning and the young man she found face down in the streets near death seven years ago. She takes care of him. He's a very nice young man and by all extents right in the head. He just has amnesia. I'm trying to help him to remember what his life was before he was found seven years ago." Fred explained.

"That's definitely one of your more interesting cases." Boyd said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. Fred nodded, still deep in thought.

"Is something bothering you?" Boyd asked. Fred shuddered.

"The boy…I swear to god, he looks just like Razputin. The eyes, the hair, the face…exactly like him." Fred said. "Something about him really and truly unnerves me…"

"How so? I thought you said you liked him." Boyd said.

"I do…it's just…I've seen him give me this strange look…like he's trying to remember something…" Fred said. Boyd sighed.

"It's probably just a coincidence, Fred. Razputin was murdered years ago. We went to his funeral." Boyd said. Fred's expression changed.

"You're right…he was murdered years ago…seven years ago…and we DID go to his funeral…but his body was never actually recovered…" Fred said.

"Fred, please don't…you're going to get your hopes up and you're going to get my hopes up and in the end, we'll both just end up feeling the same hurt as if we'd lost him all over again." Boyd said. Fred wasn't listening. He eyed the dream log that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

"Hmmm…I wonder…." Fred murmured. "It certainly can't hurt to look…"

He picked up the journal and began to thumb through it. Boyd sighed and rolled his eyes. As much as Boyd wished Fred's optimisms were true, Razputin was dead and had been so for seven years. Well…when Fred froze, when white as a sheet, stopped breathing, and stared at the log like he had seen a ghost, Boyd began to wonder if he should take that back.

"Fred, what is it?" Boyd asked anxiously. Boyd stood worriedly, debating on whether or not to go over and give Fred a whack upside the head to bring him back to his senses. Fred slowly looked up at Boyd.

"December 2nd, 2014…I found myself in the stone courtyard of a decrepit old building in ruins. I believe that if I headed up, I would have found myself in the same, twisted, rat infested tower in which I have encountered the man with the mismatched mechanical eyes, blue skin, and the three pronged golden claw wearing the white smock and colorful floral printed shower cap. Just writing this down is bringing me to believe more and more that I may quite possibly be insane. Anyway, in the courtyard, I can see light coming from the room where my dream about the painter and the bullfights took place. Also in the courtyard, there is a cage-like elevator guarded by a short, scary British man with a prominent forehead, large, swollen lips, and dark, beady, clouded eyes. He has short cerulean blue hair and he mentioned that he was nearly blind. I didn't want to mess with him. He was verbally tormenting the tallest man I've seen in my entire life. I've heard of people being tall, thin, and lanky, but this man really took the cake. He was in a straight jacket, but I felt a lot safer going up to him than the British man. The tall man had on an admiral's hat too. It looked like he was trying to play a game of Waterloo utilizing a board drawn on the floor in chalk and using a garden gnome, a teddy bear, and a few other odd items as pieces. He was rambling to himself about a war, but two different ways. One way, he spoke English, and the other, French or with a French accent. When he spoke English, he was fluent and had no accent. He was frightened and submissive when speaking English, and very much against this 'war' he was going on about. He wanted out of the war very badly. Then, he would stand up tall and hold his head high and speak either in French, or with a French accent. When he spoke French, he was extremely confident and forceful and was all for fighting to the death in 'the war'. Oddly enough, even though I understand French and I know that he was speaking French, I couldn't understand what he was saying when he spoke French. When I went up to him, he was easily engaged into conversation. One minute, he'd be talking about the war with a French accent, and the next, he'd tell himself to shut up in English. He warned me not to listen to him because he only thought he was Napoleon. Like the rest of my dreams, everything suddenly went black, the tall man and I were both ensnared by the cold hands that come up out of the water, the tall man was dragged under, I saw a flash of the man with the claw and the other man whom I now know to be the British guy, laughing; then I witness the same scene of the man in the sunglasses and the woman in the brightly colored dress being shot, but, as the trend seems to be going, the actual surroundings are getting more and more vivid as are the details of the event." Fred recited shakily.

"You're shittin' me, Fred…" Boyd muttered. Fred, still dangerously pale in the face, shook his head slowly. He turned the journal so that Boyd could read it for himself.

"A-a coincidence! A seriously fucked up coincidence!" Boyd stammered.

"Coincidence my ass, Boyd! That's way too detailed! And the end part! A guy with sunglasses and a woman in a brightly colored dress being shot! He says it happens at the end of all his dreams! The day Raz was last seen, it was by Agent Sasha Nein and Agent Milla Vodello! Raz and the two of them were on a mission that day and they walked into a trap! Nein and Vodello were both shot and Vodello was the last to see Raz before the kidnapper got away with him!" Fred cried. Boyd was completely at a loss of words.

"He said he drew pictures…" Fred murmured. He flipped quickly though the book.

"Good, sweet, holy mother of god…" Fred whispered. Boyd got out of his chair and dashed over to Fred's side so he could see the book too.

"Holy shit…" Boyd muttered. On the page was a doodle of a short, plump, hunchbacked woman with messy white hair. She wore a pair of oven mitts and a red spotted dress and held a turtle in her hands. The turtle wore a little yellow crown and matching rain boots. Under the turtle, the name 'Mr. Pokeylope' was written. A few notes were written under the name.

"The turtle talks in a deep, low voice. (God, I MUST be going out of my mind) and was once captured by the man with the claw to blackmail the woman."

The space where the woman's name should be was left blank. There were a few notes on her as well.

"She talks in a high, squeaky voice, she's emotional, she loves Mr. Pokeylope, she's very fast and agile, she's extremely sweet and gentle natured, but is being forced to work for the man with the claw because he's holding Mr. Pokeylope hostage."

Fred turned the page hesitantly. There was a picture of a large man with purple skin, black hair, and a black beard and mustache. His name was left blank.

"He is a painter obsessed with bull fights; a prisoner of art. He also has some anger management issues; but he's usually very pleasant. He was in the neon city with the pink bull. He was building a house of cards to reach the beautiful woman crying tears of rose petals in the sky. I fought four wrestlers, Eagle, Cobra, Tiger, and Dragon, to win the last four cards he needed to complete his tower. I followed him to the top to find the woman and the bull, el Odio. I fought El Odio, only to find out that the bull and the man were one in the same. The matador tried to finish him off, but I protected him and defeated the Matador. I found out that the beautiful woman, Lampita, was actually the painter's ex-girlfriend Lana. The painter used to be on a wrestling team. One day, the matador, Dingo, stole Lana away from the painter, and the painter was so upset that he lost the most important wrestling match and with it, his confidence. How it all ties together, I'm not quite sure."

Fred turned the page to find a drawing of himself. The name was left blank.

"He's really tall, and has some kind of split personality; one is French and very overbearing and the other speaks perfect English and is very submissive and frightened. He fights with himself constantly about some kind of war going on. The English side wants no part in the war, but the French side apparently forces him to take part. His French side verbally abuses himself. Someone named Napoleon (possible Bonaparte, since he has mentioned a defeat at Waterloo) is somehow involved.

On the next page, there were two sketches of Boyd. One with him in a security guard uniform, and one with him in a milkman uniform.

Identical twins? The milkman has the key to the gates of the tower. The security guard is…well…not secure. He is paranoid and is constantly riddling over some wild conspiracy that I can't understand.

"Still think it's a coincidence?" Fred asked. Boyd was absolutely livid.

"I-I…I have no idea…" He breathed.

"Razputin Aquato's journal from the year he saved Whispering Rock and Thorny Towers is posted online…" Fred said. He and Boyd quickly rose from their seats and ran into Fred's library where a computer was located. It wasn't long at all before Fred found the page. He looked at the original handwriting and compared it to that of Demetri's.

"It looks the same to me!" Boyd said. Fred found the section of Raz's journal where he described first entering the courtyard and seeing Fred and Crispin.

"The writing style is pretty much the same too. The only thing different about it is that Demetri has a more adult vocabulary, which should be the case since Raz wrote this nine years ago!" Fred said.

"Fred…do you really think…." Boyd began.

"Only one way to find out." Fred said. He and Boyd began reading every little detail of the journal from the first entry. They made their own profiles of each person mentioned, they made timelines, they meticulously scrutinized every minute detail of every page. They were up all night in the library researching this, that and the other.

By the time four forty five rolled around, Fred's alarm was going off in his room and Body's boss was wondering where the hell Boyd was. Both Fred and Boyd were still in the library pouring over photos and articles and matching things up.

"He looks exactly like Raz and everything matches up, Boyd! We've given a name and fitting description to every single one of the people he's seen in his dreams! His sketches and personality descriptions match up perfectly with the profile of someone who knew him back then!" Fred said.

"I know…I know…I just can't believe it…Fred, the Psychonauts said it…Raz is dead…what if this is just some kind of prank or something? There has to be a way to explain it!" Boyd said.

"You and your fucking conspiracies, Boyd! He is Raz! THAT explains it!" Fred cried.

"I'm not trying to go all conspiracy happy here, Fred! I'm just trying to be logical and rational here!" Boyd said. "This kid could be Raz; but there's just as big a possibility that he's not. Something else entirely might be going on! I don't want us to get our hopes up only to have them shot down. It'd be like loosing him all over again!"

Fred sighed.

"Then what further evidence would you need to prove that this kid is without a doubt Razputin D'artagan Aquato?" Fred asked.

"Something about this isn't right, Fred. I think we need to call in some help. I think we need to run a blood test and we need someone who can go right into his mind where the absolute truth can be found." Boyd said.

"So you want me to call in the Psychonauts?" Fred asked, caught between anger and defeat.

"What about the Hedgemouse's? They're Psychonauts. You're friends with them, and they used to know Raz! Hell, this kid had pictures and descriptions of both of them in this book! Ask them to help us!" Boyd said. Fred thought it over carefully.

"It couldn't hurt...we'd have undisputed proof…" Fred said. He picked up the phone.

"I'm calling them." Fred said.

"Hello, Quentin? It's Fred. Fred Bonaparte. I know it's really early, I'm so sorry, but this is extremely urgent. No, Phoebe, no one's dying! I said I was sorry! I really really need you guys right now! Just please come to my place as soon as possible! Thanks Quentin. Bye." Fred said. Fred hung up the phone and sunk back into his chair with a sigh.

"They'll be here in two hours. Come on. Let's go get cleaned up and get breakfast ready." Fred said.

"Aw, shit! I'm late for work!" Boyd cried.

"Yeah, and you're not going today because you're sick." Fred said. "Now go get cleaned up! Come on!"

Two hours later, Fred and Boyd were down in the kitchen preparing to make breakfast when Phoebe and Quentin Hedgemouse arrived. Fred threw open the door and pulled the two inside.

"Thank god you're here!" Fred sighed.

"Fred, what the hell is going on here that you dragged us out of bed at some ungodly hour!?" Phoebe hissed.

"Now, honey, please calm down. If Fred didn't have a true problem on his hands, he wouldn't have called us." Quentin said. Wrapping an arm around Phoebe's waist.

"So, let's hear it then." Phoebe said. Fred and Boyd sat the two down in the dining room and explained everything to them, showing them timelines, profiles, charts, and pictures.

"It all matches up. I need you two to go into this kid's mind and find out if he's nuts, or if he's fucking with us, or if he's really Raz or what!" Fred said. Phoebe and Quentin were speechless.

"Is that a good enough reason for you to spare my life for waking you up?" Fred asked. Phoebe nodded dumbly. There were soft voices approaching the dining room.

"That's probably them now!" Boyd said.

"Okay, everybody! Just act natural! We're going to have breakfast, then calmly figure out what's going on. Quentin, Phoebe, you know what to do, and for the love of god, Boyd, just don't speak!" Fred said. He and Boyd got up and started getting out pots and pans so that they could begin cooking. Demetri and Anita walked in a few moments later. Quentin and Phoebe looked as though they might pass out when they caught sight of Demetri.

"Good morning, Anita. Good morning, Demetri." Fred said cheerfully. "I hope your rooms were comfortable."

"Yes, very. Thank you." Demetri said.

"I'd like to introduce you to my friends." Fred said. He pointed to Boyd.

"This is Boyd. He's the delivery man and was one of my earliest charges as an orderly; obviously he's much more sane today." Fred teased. Boyd stuck his tongue out at Fred.

"Look who's talking!" Boyd chuckled. He walked away from the stove and bowed to Anita. He hissed her had before shaking it.

"Boyd Cooper at your service. It's a pleasure, Madame." Boyd said. He also shook hands with Demetri.

"And Demetri. Pleased to meet you." Boyd said.

"It's nice to meet you too." Demetri said. Boyd returned to helping Fred get the cooking utensils out.

"Then the two over there at the table are Mr. and Mrs. Hedgemouse." Fred said. "They are actually Psychonauts. They are two of the agency's leading psychiatrists."

"Hey, we learned from the master, Professor Bonaparte." Quentin said. He stood and shook hands with both Demetri and Anita.

"I'm Quentin. Pleased to meet you." Quentin said.

"And I'm his wife, Phoebe." Phoebe said, also shaking hands with Demetri and Anita. Demetri felt very odd around these people. He recognized them from his dreams. He desperately wished he had his dream log so he could look back and find the pictures he had drawn and the information he had on them. Demetri, Anita, Quentin, and Phoebe all sat down at the table.

"Say, Demetri…has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like that kid…oh…what was his name…he died seven years ago…he was the youngest in the entire agency…" Quentin said thoughtfully.

"Razputin?" Phoebe asked. She and Quentin were carefully gauging Demetri's reactions.

"Yeah! That's him!" Quentin said. Demetri shook his head slowly.

"The poor kid…he was murdered at age 12 on a mission with agent Sasha Nein and agent Milla Vodello." Phoebe said. Quentin shuddered.

"It was a horrible tragedy. They walked right into a trap in this old warehouse. Agent Nein was shot in the chest and Agent Vodello in the shoulder. Razputin was grabbed from behind and drugged. The bullets that hit Nein and Vodello were doused in a chemical compound that rendered their powers useless. Vodello was the last to see Razputin alive. She watched their attacker carry him off. When the agency caught up with the kidnapper, the guy said that he had already sacrificed Razputin in the name of the holy trinity to save his soul. They found enough of Razputin's blood on the scene to back the claim up. The poor boy's body was never found." Quentin said. Demetri was very quiet. He had grown pale and wide eyed. Anita hadn't noticed.

"'Ow 'orrible!" Anita said.

"So, Demetri, did you have any more of those dreams last night?" Fred asked. Demetri nodded.

"I wrote them down." He said, shifting anxiously in his seat.

"Is something wrong?" Fred asked. Demetri shrugged.

"This is going to sound weird…but…one of the people in my dreams looks just you're your friend Mr. Boyd…he's been in my dreams since before I even met you." Demetri began.

"Yes, I read about him in your log." Fred said.

"I had a dream about him last night." Demetri said.

"Would you like to go ahead and tell me about it? Phoebe and Quentin are amnesia specialists. They are here to help me work with you. And you can just ignore Boyd." Fred teased.

"Hell yeah. I'm just here for the food." Body chuckled.

" Okay…I was wandering around on the beach of a small island surrounded by water. It was dark. I climbed up the cliff face that jutted up from the beach to find a stone wall blocking my path. Beyond the gate was a decrepit old building in ruins. It was very creepy, but something told me that it was where I needed to go. The only way past the stone wall was a tall gate, but that gate was locked and guarded by a stout security guard and about a dozen crows. Something was amiss with the guard. He trembled and twitched and rambled on incoherently about some grand conspiracy involving various ludicrous parties such as cows and the government and the toy making industry; and he had drawn images of his own bizarre ramblings all over every usable surface in chalk. I think the man suffered from some kind of paranoia. When I asked him if he'd let me in, he said that he couldn't. He said that the milkman was the only one with the key. As you saw in my log, I believe this 'milkman' may be his identical twin brother." Demetri said. No one could stop themselves from gaping at the young man.

"You're shitin' me…" Boyd muttered. Fred, still dangerously pale in the face, shook his head.

"What, did I say something wrong?" Demetri asked hesitantly, seeing all the eyes fixed on him.

"No, Demetri. Not at all." Quentin said. Phoebe put a hand on Demetri's shoulder.

"Demetri, you feel like you've met us somewhere before, don't you?" She asked. Demetri froze and stared at her.

"Do we remind you of some of the people from your dreams?" Quentin asked. Demetri swallowed thickly and nodded hesitantly.

"Yes. You remind me of the boy who played the turntables and the girl who played the drums. They were always arguing over what they should name their band." Demetri said hesitantly.

"Th-they were arguing between the Levitators and the Firestarters…" Demetri said. Quentin and Phoebe did their best not to show how unnerved they were about Demetri's statement.

"Which did you prefer, Demetri?" Quentin asked in a friendly tone. Demetri blushed slightly and twiddled his thumbs.

"Well, for some reason…the name 'The Whispering Rockers' kept coming to my mind." Demetri said. Quentin and Phoebe suppressed the urge to shudder.

"That's a pretty cool name. What made you think of it?" Phoebe asked.

"I-I'm not really sure…" Demetri said. Phoebe, Quentin, Boyd, and Fred looked back and forth between each other. Quentin nodded and Fred took the file off of the counter and sat down next to Demetri. Fred took a pair of photographs and set them on the table in front of Demetri.

"Demetri, do these people look familiar?" Fred asked. Demetri paled dramatically as he studied the pictures. He nodded faintly.

"Th-there's the man who captured Mr. Pokeylope…a-and the blind British man…and the man from the circus who calls me his son…" Demetri whispered. Fred walked across the kitchen and pulled a picture off of the wall. Demetri blinked and rubbed his eyes. He was trembling slightly.

"Oh my god…the painter…the actress…and the sweet lady who owns Mr. Pokeylope…" Demetri muttered. "a-and the other two…"

He looked up at Boyd and Fred, his eyes wide.

"Fred and I the day we were rescued from Thorny Towers along with the rest of the people in that picture." Boyd said. Demetri put a hand to his own forehead.

"I-I must be dreaming again…" He murmured.

"You're not dreaming, Demetri." Fred said.

"There's more." Boyd said. Fred took a group photograph out of the file that was labeled 'Cadets of Whispering Rock Summer Camp, 2005' and placed it on the table in front of Demetri. Demetri gasped and covered his eyes.

"Oh my god…oh my god…" He groaned. He peeked out from behind his hands and began to study the photo more closely.

"Th-that's them…the people from my dreams…" Demetri whispered, tracing over each of the faces until he found one that didn't belong. A young boy with vibrant green eyes. He wore an old fashioned aviator's helmet with a pair of red goggles perched atop his head. A few locks of auburn hair poked out from under the helmet. He wore a black leather jacket with a green sweater under it along with black leather gloves, pants, and boots. Anita gasped when she saw it.

"Oh my god…zat…zat is…" She whispered.

"You!" She cried.

"Razputin..." Demetri breathed at the same time Anita spoke. Demetri looked to Fred. Anita looked back and forth between the photograph, Demetri, and Fred, Boyd, Quentin, and Phoebe.

"That boy…his name is Razputin, isn't it?" Demetri asked. Fred nodded, trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

"Ze boy 'oo was murdered seven years ago…'is name was Razputin…ze way 'e was murdered…it matched Demetri's dream…" Anita stammered.

"That boy in the picture is Razputin…in my dreams, everyone calls me Razputin…That boy is me…I am that boy…he is Razputin…that would mean…A-am…am I Razputin? " Demetri asked. "Are we…the boy in this picture…Razputin and I one and the same?"

Tears were shining in Fred's eyes.

"We believe so." Fred said, his voice cracking. Anita and Demetri stared at one another.

"Oh my god…" Anita whispered. She looked away from the shell-shocked Demetri to Fred.

"S-so…what now?" Anita asked.

"What is 'is last name? 'Oo are his family? Where did 'e come from? 'Ow does 'e know you?" Anita asked. Fred held up his hand to silence her and gestured toward Quentin and Phoebe.

"We can't be 100 positive of his identity until we've performed a psyche check on him…with his consent, of course." Phoebe said.

"A psyche check is completely safe and completely painless. During the procedure, either Phoebe or I will project our psyche into his own and look for repressed memories and other evidence that could point us toward his true identity. As long as you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about." Quentin said. Demetri and Anita looked to each other. A brief exchange of an unspoken conversation passed between them and they both nodded.

"Alright…" Demetri said. "I consent."

Quentin smiled warmly.

"Well then, I'll let you have some breakfast and we can get started." Quentin said. Demetri shook his head. He chuckled softly.

"I don't think I could eat anything now…maybe we should just go ahead and get it over with now…" Demetri said. Quentin smiled.

"I can't say I blame you." Quentin chuckled. "Alright. We'll start now."

Quentin turned to Phoebe. She motioned for him to go ahead.

"You probably know him better than I do. I'll stay here on the outside." She said. Quentin nodded and pulled a small, rectangular door out of his pocket. It was decorated with a blue, black, grey and white collage of what looked like scenes from jazz music bars. A silver Psychonauts logo gleamed from the center of the door and the knob was silver as well.

Quentin pulled up a chair and sat down so that he and Demetri were facing one another.

"Just relax, Demetri. This won't hurt a bit." Quentin said. He found himself, for a brief moment, locking eyes with Demetri.

"Unless something really very bad happens." Demetri said innocently. At first, Quentin was surprised, but he just smiled back at Demetri.

"But nothing like that will happen. I've been on the force since the day I turned eighteen. I know what I'm doing." Quentin said. Demetri swallowed and nodded. Quentin placed the little door in the center of Demetri's forehead and closed his eyes. Demetri's eyes began to glaze as the door began to tremor. A bright white light shone from behind the doorway. A few seconds later, it burst open and the light seemed to wrap itself around Quentin. Quentin's body fell into a relaxed position and a faint outline of his figure could be seen being pulled seemingly out of his body by the light and toward the doorway. Soon, the figure vanished into the doorway; but it didn't close. The doorway remained open. Phoebe was immediately on alert.

Tense seconds ticked by and the door remained open. Phoebe slowly began to rise from her chair, her eyes fixed on the door. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, the white light from the doorway began to shift to grey. It continued to darken as more seconds ticked by. The door began to tremor again. The tremors grew more violent and the light grew blacker with every second that passed. Everyone jumped as a loud bang shook the kitchen and the black light flashed with blinding intensity. There was a sharp crash and a clatter as everyone's eyes started to adjust back to normal. The light was gone and the door was lying shut and harmless on the floor…right next to Demetri's prone body. A few feet away, Quentin's chair had tipped over backward and Quentin was lying limp and still on the floor a considerable distance from his overturned chair.

Anita shrieked and dropped down beside Demetri. Phoebe cried out and dashed to Quentin's side.

"What just happened?!" Boyd cried, kneeling next to Demetri. Fred knelt down next to Quentin.

Phoebe shifted Quentin so that he was lying flat on his back. She checked his pulse and breathing.

Demetri stirred and groaned softly. He pushed himself up onto his elbows. He gasped when he caught sight of Quentin.

"D-did I do that?!" Demetri asked. Phoebe lifted Quentin's head onto her lap and put her index and middle fingers to Quentin's temples. She touched her forehead to his and closed her eyes.

"Quentin? Quentin, can you hear me?" She asked.

"Demetri, are you alright?" Fred called. Demetri nodded.

"I'm fine…what about him?" Demetri asked, gesturing to Quentin. Phoebe cursed softly. Quentin wasn't responding.

"Come on. There's a spare bedroom just down the hall…" Fred said. Phoebe nodded and slid her arms under Quentin's while Fred got Quentin's legs. Anita and Boyd helped Demetri to his feet and supported him down the hall after Phoebe and Fred.

Phoebe and Fred laid Quentin down on the bed in the nearest bedroom.

"Fred, would you please go get my bag?" Phoebe asked, checking Quentin over. Fred nodded and dashed out of the room.

"Have Demetri sit down for a while." Fred said as he ran past Boyd, Anita, and Demetri. Boyd and Anita helped Demetri into an armchair in the bedroom. A few moments later, Fred reappeared with Phoebe's bag. Phoebe used various strange instruments to take Quentin's vital signs. After about twenty minutes, she sighed and sat down beside Quentin on the bed.

"He's been knocked back deep into his own psyche…I'm probably going to have to go in after him…" Phoebe said. She pulled a little door out of her pocket. This one also had the Psychonauts emblem and was decorated with scenes from rock and roll concerts.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Fred asked.

"It's the only option we have. We can't take him back to a specialist at HQ or we'd have to tell them what we were doing; and this is something that the Psychonauts are better off not knowing about." Phoebe said.

"Alright. Just be careful." Fred said. Phoebe placed her door in the center of Quentin's forehead and with a brief flash of light, she was in a relaxed position with her eyes closed.

"What happened? Is he going to be alright?" Demetri asked. Fred turned to Demetri.

"We should have expected this…Quentin couldn't get through your defenses. You instinctively resisted him and ejected his psyche from your own. You blasted Quentin's psyche right back into his own head. The reaction was so forceful that he was pushed back deeply into his own psyche, therefore resulting in a state of deep unconsciousness." Fred explained.

"Oh no…I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to…" Demetri said.

"Don't blame yourself. It was instinctive. He'll be alright. As soon as Phoebe can find him and get him back into the more familiar areas of his psyche, he'll regain consciousness." Fred explained.

"What about you? Are you alright?" Fred asked. Demetri nodded.

"Come. Let's give Phoebe some space. You should probably lie down for a little while yourself…" Fred said.

An hour later, Phoebe called to everyone. They all rushed into the room. She was leaning over Quentin. He began to stir lightly. With a soft moan, his eyes fluttered open.

"Uhn…Phoebs?" He asked groggily. Phoebe let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank god." She said. Quentin winced.

"His defenses…I forgot…coach was right…armored like a tank…" Quentin murmured, bringing a hand up to his aching head.

"I'm so sorry…are you alright?" Demetri asked. Quentin nodded.

"'S okay. I should have known better. It wasn't your fault. It was instinctive. I'm fine." Quentin assured him.

"Fine my ass." Phoebe muttered.

"You're pretty fine yourself, baby." Quentin muttered teasingly. Phoebe smacked him on the shoulder playfully.

"You know what I mean. I'll bet you have a massive migraine right about now." Phoebe said. Quentin shrugged.

"I won't deny that." Quentin said. A pang of concern shot through Demetri. Quentin sensed it.

"But I'll be fine with a little rest, don't worry. No hard feelings, no real damage." Quentin assured him.

"Stay here and rest as long as you need to, Quentin." Fred said.

"Thanks, Fred." Quentin said. Phoebe sighed and lifted Quentin's head into her lap. She stroked his hair lovingly, her expression thoughtful.

"So, what now? If you couldn't break through his defenses, I certainly won't be able to." Phoebe said. "How are we supposed to conduct a psyche check on him now?"

Quentin lay with his eyes closed.

"We need someone who's closer to him…someone who knows him better than we do…someone who has a deeper bond with him…" Quentin said.

"Surely, you can't be thinking about involving…" Phoebe said. Quentin looked up at her.

"She's the best candidate. Everyone else with a closer bond with him would either freak out or is…er…unavailable..." Quentin said.

"And she won't?" Phoebe asked sarcastically.

"Well, she's the least likely…" Quentin said. "She'd be the most rational."

Phoebe sighed.

"I guess you're right." Phoebe said.

"Now, the real question is…how the hell are we going to put this to her?" Quentin asked.

Despite Quentin still being weak from attempting to enter Demetri's psyche earlier, Quentin insisted that he and Phoebe couldn't spend the night and had to leave no later than five o'clock that afternoon. They had a plan to help Demetri, and they needed to get started right away. All Demetri knew was that Quentin and Phoebe would be returning in the morning with someone else to help them.

Demetri was incredibly nervous. So much had happened in the past few hours. So much progress had been made. The rising sun tomorrow morning might at last shed light on Demetri's true identity.

Could Demetri really be Raz; or could it be that, despite the evidence, he is not? Perhaps something the likes of which has never been known is occurring in Demetri. Who could the 'she' that Quentin is referring to be? Find out in the next exciting action packed update of Going Up Against the World!!

The following is a message from Lyre-19:

No flames, if you please, no need to act obscene

Otherwise, I'd really appreciate a review

Oh, and, Psychonauts ain't mine; I said it, so you no sue!

Now this little poem must end, like all poems do

So for reading my works, I say THANK YOU!

Also, an apology to you, my friends, from me

I'm sorry for exposing you to my awful poetry!

XD XD XD!

(Sorry!)