The rain had been steady all day, but suddenly it increased in speed, pounding on the ground with almost deafening force. Lightning cracked. Micky ran in little bursts between the awnings of apartment buildings, already soaked through but unwilling to tolerate the sheets of water beating on his back for the entire half mile home.

A block from the Pad, he paused on Niles's porch, listening to the jaunty, irregular rhythm the rain tapped on the tin mailbox. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat. Tat-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta.

He didn't want to go home, but he knew Peter was there alone. He'd left angry that morning, and for all Peter knew, he'd been wandering in the rain all day, not holed up in a record shop. Mike may have lost focus on the group's well-being since Davy had disappeared, but Peter was still trying to keep things together- if not for Micky and Mike, then for himself. Micky was trying to remember to appreciate the effort, but today appreciation had been difficult.

He was starting to contemplate the beeline he would take as he ran down the block when he noticed a blurry figure walking slowly in the direction of the Pad on the opposite side of the street. He rubbed water out of his eyes. Nobody was on the streets in this unusual weather, and whoever this person was walked at a bizarrely steady, calm pace.

Micky watched the figure walk for a few moments, until it stopped on the sidewalk in front of the Pad. Something about the way the person was standing made his breath catch in his throat. He broke into a run, his soaked shoes squelching with every step.

As he crossed the street, he saw the person's dark hair, shoulder length and matted from the rain.

Two houses away, he could see the dark blue of the person's wet shirt, plastered to his body.

One house away, he stopped short, his heart pounding wildly in disbelief.

"Davy," Micky called. Davy turned his head. Water ran down his face, streaming down the tip of his nose and chin. He laughed.

When the door swung open so hard it slammed against the wall, Peter expected Mike to stumble in drunk, or Micky to storm in angry. But when Micky entered, he was soaking wet and grinning from ear to ear, and his arm was around another dripping figure.

"Pete," Micky said, his voice pitched high with excitement. "It's Davy."

Peter took a step forward, his eyes locked on Davy's face, as if it would disappear if he lost track of it. Davy was paler than Peter had ever seen him, and the paleness accentuated the density of his eyelashes and eyebrows, giving his face a dramatic expression. As Peter stared, Davy began to shiver.

"Let me get a blanket," Peter said, tearing his eyes away to run into the bedroom. When he came out, Micky had his arms wrapped around Davy as he stood in an expanding puddle of rainwater, shaking uncontrollably.

Peter pressed his palm to Davy's cheek. "Your lips are blue. You're freezing… How did you get here? How long have you been outside?"

Davy took the blanket and shrugged. He held the blanket in his hands for a few moments, his gaze shifting between Peter and Micky.

"We've got to get you out of your wet clothes," Peter said. Davy nodded, but his hands were too unsteady to unbutton his shirt. Peter and Micky helped him undress to his boxers, and Peter hesitated for a moment, noticing how thin Davy had become, before wrapping the blanket around him and leading him to the couch. Peter and Micky sat on either side of him, the silence bursting with unasked questions as they watched the color return to Davy's face.

"Are you okay?" Micky asked, finally. "What did Zero do to you? Are you hurt? What was Hell like?"

Davy ran his tongue along his bottom lip hesitantly. "I'm fine," he answered simply. "I'm great." He laughed, wiping away a stream of water that had begun to run from his hairline into his eyes. Suddenly, he glanced at the front door, which they'd left wide open in the confusion of his arrival, and as if on cue, Mike appeared a few seconds later.

"What the-" Mike said, stopping in his tracks. He, too, was soaked through, and now he took off his hat and wrang it out onto the floor, walking slowly toward his friends, his mouth open in disbelief. "Is that really you?"

Davy nodded, a smile growing on his face.

"But how…?"

Davy just smiled.