Hi and welcome back. As usual, thanks for your brilliant reviews. I appreciate your feedback a lot and I hope that you are enjoying the story so far! After Dr. Connor found out about poor little Harry's secret, some relatives have a serious confrontation coming up. But is Harry really coming home? Let's see how the story continues...


Please Come For Me - Chapter 7 - Coming Home

Harry was rigid with fear.

How could Tom do this to him? Surely Aunt Petunia would make up a great story to explain everything. She always did. Teachers in school fell for it, neighbours, everyone! He'd be the liar. It'd be his fault. And then Tom would leave, and he would be in trouble.

When Harry still didn't move, Tom leaned forward to fasten the boy's seatbelt again, carefully folding it across his chest. After it had clicked shut, Tom stroked Harry's cheek with the back of his hand once more lightly, brushed away some shed tears with his thumb and started the engine again.

Grabbing the fabric of the seatbelt forcefully, Harry's knuckles went white with pressure. He leaned his chin against his chest and tried to push himself back into his seat. His back hurt badly by doing so, but he didn't care. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the world around him for a second.

Merely a few moments had passed when the car was pulled over again and they came to a halt, this time in front of #4 Privet Drive. It was getting dark by now and there was light coming from inside the house.

For a moment, Tom had hoped to find the house deserted. Any reason to just turn around and take the boy back home with him would have been fine. But obviously somebody was at home. And this somebody was in need of some serious talk!

He took another deep breath to calm down. This was not going to be easy.

Such talks never were.

There was no way he would let this child walk back into the house, pretend that nothing had happened and just stand by and watch for what would happen next. He would need to have a thorough look at the boy anyway, document his injuries, make sure they were taken care of, not to speak of the legal consequences for whomever had been responsible for this.

Often there were many injuries in different stages of healing. Maybe scars or other signs of prior abuse which had to be recorded, too. Yet he knew that often the physical pain was not the worst. The wounds that could not be seen outwardly were the ones most difficult to heal – and surely the boy would require professional help to work through these issues.

Compassionately he looked at the little child who still sat in his seat absent-mindedly, clinging on to his seatbelt for dear life.

'Harry?'

Nothing happened.

'Boy, look at me.'

Somehow this address seemed to reach the distant mind of the child like some sort of trigger. Instantly he let go of his seatbelt and stared at Tom blankly.

'You need to listen to me now,' Tom said carefully. 'I will go inside and talk to your uncle and aunt. I want you to stay here and wait for me. I promise I will be back as soon as possible. Okay?'

The boy's chest rose and fell quickly as he breathed heavily.

Tom looked into the teary eyes that were begging him not to go and do what he had planned, not to leave him alone. Not to give away his secret. But there was no other way to end this! Harry seemed close to having a panic attack.

Holding the boy's back with his one hand and resting the other one on top of his violently moving chest, Tom put on his most reassuring look.

'Shhh... Everything will be alright,' Tom said. 'Take deep breaths. In and out. Concentrate, Harry. In and out. That's right. You are doing fine. I'll come back soon. There's nothing you need to be scared of. You are safe now. You just wait here and I take care of this now.'

Once Tom was certain that the boy wouldn't suffer from an attack or faint due to his prior hyperventilation, he got out of the car and halted. He didn't want the boy to be disturbed by what was coming. Leaning his upper body inside once more he looked Harry right in the eye and sternly said

'Stay. In. The. Car!'

Apparently, commands worked well with the boy who nodded mechanically.

Tom closed the door determinedly. Steeling his mind, he took another deep breath as he walked up the driveway to the house.

x x x

If it hadn't been for the light inside, Tom would have thought no one was at home. He had rung the bell for three times now and still nothing had happened. Then he had heard a shuffling noises behind the door, but apart from that, nothing moved.

'Mrs. Dursley? This is Dr. Connor. I need to talk to you and your husband.'

The shuffling noise stopped.

'I'm not going anywhere. You might as well open the door.'

Another few awkward moments passed, then the door was opened with a jerk.

Tom looked into the red-rimmed eyes of the tall woman standing opposite him now. He found nothing in her that resembled the person that had been sitting in his surgery a few days ago, self-confident, with a put-on smile firmly in place.

'I thought you were my husband who forgot his keys and... well...' Petunia's voice trailed off when she realised who she was talking to.

Clapping a hand to her mouth she looked clearly embarrassed, caught off guard.

This moment lasted only briefly though. Petunia glared at him.

'How may I help you?' she asked, scrutinizing her unexpected visitor without any effort to hide it.

'I believe you are missing something,' Tom said.

'Excuse me?'

'I believe,' Tom repeated, 'your nephew hasn't returned home yet and it is quite late now. Weren't you wondering where your 9-year-old boy was at such a time at night?'

Realisation started to dawn on Petunia's face. Before she could say or ask anything, Tom continued.

'I believe we need to talk, and I think we better go inside unless you want the neighbours to be part of this conversation which will surely be... interesting.'

Obviously his harsh approach had not failed to take its desired effect, for the woman had started to look around, anxiously checking if anyone might have noticed their dialogue. After a few seconds, Petunia came to the conclusion that all neighbours were minding their own business.

'Very well,' she spat, her voice venomous. Turning around, she gestured for him to come in.

Following her into the living room, Tom couldn't help but notice the splintered cupboard door which didn't fit into the completely sterile ambience at all. Everything was spotless and tidy and there it leaned against a wall, broken, out of place.

'Sit down, then.' Petunia barely whispered, not trusting her voice as she offered the seat a second time this day to yet another very unwelcome visitor.

She had been upset all day. Her shoulder hurt badly and she felt like a mess of emotions.

At first she had been afraid. Of her husband. Of anything he might do to the boy. Of the headmaster who would surely force her to tell him what he wanted to know any moment. But as time passed, Petunia realised that he wouldn't pressured her to say anything. Yet he had also refused to take the boy with him. And she had been desperate for something to do!

But as time had passed and neither her husband, nor the boy, nor the headmaster were around anymore, she had been able to put some of that self-consciousness aside and resume with her daily work.

Now and then she had glanced at her watch. When would Vernon be back? Hopefully the boy wouldn't be stupid enough to return before they had sorted this.

The more time passed, the less she was looking forward to seeing her husband again. She wondered if he could be reasoned with this time. Hopefully he would have calmed down by that time.

'Mrs. Dursley?' Tom interrupted the silence.

Being jerked out of her daydreaming by her visitor, she frowned at him.

'What do you want.' It wasn't really a question.

'Doesn't it make you wonder that your nephew hasn't come home yet?' Tom asked.

'Well,' Petunia shifted a little in her chair. 'Usually he would be home by this time, but you see, I had a lot on my mind today and told him that I would make an exception. It's holidays after all.'

Studying the red-rimmed eyes of the woman, Tom wondered what had been on her mind all day.

'I see,' he said. 'But when exactly did you expect him to be back?'

'Well. Any time now, actually.'

Still Petunia was unsure where this was supposed to be going. She looked the doctor right in the face, but couldn't make out his expression. Finally, her gaze dropped to her hands.

'So,' she said slowly, 'how does this concern you? Do you know where Harry is?'

'Actually, I do,' Tom said. 'My kids and he met on the playground today, quite accidentally. I had a chance to talk to him.'

At this, Petunia's eyes darted up to the doctor's.

'You talked to him?'

'Yes.'

'What did he tell you?'

'What do you think he told me?'

Petunia's knuckles went white when she grabbed hold of her chair. Surely she was not going to play this game!

'Listen,' she spat, unable to withhold her emotions. 'He is a kid! He has a wild imagination! Whatever he said, probably it was exaggerated.'

'You are not answering my question.'

Petunia breathed heavily.

Why was everybody pressuring her to tell? She hadn't spent years and years covering up her husband's flaws to blow the cover in a single afternoon now!

'I believe,' Petunia said slowly, 'I let you into my house because you wanted to talk to me! Talk then!' And with that she pursed her lips together, determined not to let another word slip.

Fine, Tom thought. Have it your way then.

'Mrs. Dursley,' Tom said professionally, 'your nephew shows clear signs of abuse. Could you explain this?'

For a moment, Petunia didn't react. Then she asked

'What signs of abuse?'

'He has a sprained wrist.'

Petunia shook her head.

'I told you, he had this bike accident.'

'You never went to the hospital. I checked.'

'We went to a different one!' Petunia said hotly. Her face had adapted a pink shade by now.

'He also has a bruised cheek,' Tom said.

'That happened when he fell down!'

'Twice?'

When Petunia didn't answer, Tom leaned forward. 'Does he even have a bike?'

'Of course he has!'

'Why was there the need to cover up the bruise with make-up?'

'Because... because he was ashamed of it. He didn't want anybody to see that he was clumsy and fell down.'

At this, Petunia realised that the doctor had balled his hands into fists.

'Why was he afraid to come back home then if there was nothing he had to fear?' Tom pressed.

Petunia wrung her fingers. This wasn't fair. Her mind was racing but somehow, today the right words wouldn't come up.

'Well, you see,' she began. 'My husband...' No, this wasn't good either. 'Actually... well..'

Unconsciously she had started rubbing her shoulder. She felt so vulnerable, so exposed.

For a while, Tom studied the woman opposite him carefully.

'Did he hit you, too?'

Silence.

'Please, talk to me!' Tom urged.

Petunia stared at him. Attempting to find the right words, she clenched her fists around the armrest of the couch.

'How could you think of such a... of course he doesn't!' She was breathing heavily by now. 'He would never do something like that!'

'What happened to your shoulder?'

'Nothing.'

'Let me have a look at it. Maybe it is dislocated.'

Petunia's eyes were swimming with tears, but clearly refused to let these emotions overrule her pride.

'Listen,' she said harshly, 'we don't need your help. Everything is fine!'

'Yes, I can see that!' Tom said before he could stop himself. 'For crying out loud, he is a child! He needs your protection! How could you possibly let this happen to him? He is your nephew!'

The boy was nine years old for goodness' sake!

Two tears ran down Petunia's cheeks. She turned her head towards the clock on the wall next to her and wiped them away quickly, as if they burnt her skin. Tom took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, running his hands through his hair.

'Please,' he urged with as much patience as he could muster. 'Harry needs help. You need help!'

When Petunia silently shook her head, he added, 'Please. I can tell that you are hurt.'

'Listen,' Petunia was barely whispering. 'I didn't ask for this. This is not my fault.'

Again, she turned her head away. This wasn't working out the way Tom had hoped it would at all. They were circling the problem, but obviously it wasn't making any difference at all. This woman was definitely hurt and apparently very scared.

And why did this woman keep glancing at her watch!

'When is your husband going to be back?' Tom asked.

Petunia looked up. 'I don't know.'

'I need to talk to him.'

'NO!' At this, Petunia had jumped to her feet.

'Mrs. Dursley!' Tom exclaimed, standing up as well. 'I want to help you. I understand that you are afraid. But there are other ways than this here. I can help you!'

'We don't need your help.'

'This won't get better!' Tom pointed his hand towards the splintered cupboard. 'Do you really think that your husband will change? It never gets better!'

'STOP THIS!' Petunia cried. 'You are wrong!'

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tom felt weariness creeping up on him. Didn't this woman realise that she wasn't fooling him?

He was just about to take another step, tell her that he would inform the authorities (or anybody for that matter to get the woman talking!) when agitated voices from outside broke the silence. Then a bloodcurdling scream resounded from the driveway, followed by a deadly silence.

x x x

'Don't you think for one second that you will get away with this!' Vernon thundered.

With a powerful jerk, he had yanked open the door of the unfamiliar car that stood in his driveway, slammed away the seatbelt and grabbed Harry by his upper arm, forcing him out of the car. Harry struggled to find a balance as his feet were hardly touching the ground.

Where had Uncle Vernon come from? All of the sudden? He had been so lost in thought and hadn't seen him coming.

'Whose car is this?'

Harry felt unable to answer.

'I believe I asked you a question!' Vernon hissed coldly, sending shivers down Harry's spine.

How could he possibly tell without making it worse? There wasn't anything he could say to make it right now.

When the boy didn't answer, Vernon started shaking him by the shoulders, as if the right answer would come out if he just shook him hard enough.

'Uncle Vernon, please!' Harry was desperate, 'Please, stop!'

Why wasn't Tom here? He had promised nothing would happen and now he wasn't here! He had lied to him! Just like everybody else – and pretended to care first. Harry couldn't help but realise how stupid he had been to fall for that again.

'WHO BROUGHT YOU HERE? WHAT LIES HAVE YOU BEEN TELLING?' Vernon thundered.

He was unable to hold back his rage any longer that had accumulated over the day. He had talked to his boss – former boss that was now. And he had not managed to get his car back as it had been impounded and not been returned to him while he was still drunk. He hadn't seen the boy – cause of all of his trouble – all day. And now upon coming home, he just sat here, escorted home by some stranger who had obviously been fed lies! Why else would someone – anyone – drive the boy home?

When Harry still didn't answer, something in Vernon snapped.

'TALK to me you FREAK!' he shouted. Grabbing the boy by the hair, he slammed his head against the door of the car again which exhibited an ugly dent now.

Harry screamed horribly and suddenly a huge flash of light came from his chest. A powerful wave of energy radiated off of his body, dashing his uncle a couple of feet away where he noisily hit the ground and fell unconscious.

He thought he saw the front door of the house being yanked open and two people running towards him, but he could only make out blurred schemes. Something wet was running down his temple.

Shutting his eyes forcefully and clutching his hands to his head, Harry screamed at the top of his lungs until he had no breath left. Oblivious to everything going on around him, he felt the force that had been building up in him erupt into another mighty wave of energy and then all was silent.

x x x

When another moment had passed and nothing had happened, Harry opened his eyes again, daring to take a peak as he withdrew his hands. He wasn't hurting anymore. Carefully touching his head, he felt nothing out of the ordinary except for a strand of hair which refused to stop falling into his face.

Taking a look around, he immediately made out the silvery walls surrounding him. All was good. He was safe now. Tentatively stretching his hand out towards the barrier he felt the warmth increase. This was so nice. This was all he needed right now.

He was sitting in the middle of his sphere, knees drawn up to his chest and his protective barriers dependably closing him in. There was nothing else: just him and the walls. He took another look around and as he continued to look through the silvery barrier, he thought that he could make out silhouettes of several people hurrying around him. Yet they couldn't touch him. They couldn't pass.

Harry smiled.

As the warmth increased, he felt his body relax. He closed his eyes again. Harry was tired... so tired. Somewhere distant he heard a voice that kept calling something. It was a woman's voice, gentle and tranquilizing. He couldn't hear what she was saying, so he tried to lower his guard for a brief moment. As he did, the voice became more audible, yet he couldn't understand what she was saying.

Trying to fully relax, Harry gathered all his courage and let the barriers drop a little further. This time he heard the voice clearly in his head.

Sweetie, it's okay. Let go. Let him help you. It's alright. You are safe now.

That voice was so... he couldn't put a finger to it, but Harry was desperate to remember its sound. Keeping his eyes closed, he suddenly felt another wave of energy leave his body, leaving him tired and exhausted. The warmth faded as he fell out of his realm once more.

x x x

Petunia screeched on top of her lungs when she saw her husband lying unconscious on the ground. Hurrying over to him, she was oblivious to what else was happening.

Tom was shaken by the situation that presented itself to him. They had heard the scream and in an instant, he had jumped off his seat and hastened towards the door, closely trailed by Petunia. Jerking it open he had seen a very fat man being blown backwards as if he was hit by a shockwave. Only when the light had faded could he see Harry who had slumped down next to his car. He was bleeding from a head wound, held his hands to his head and screamed as hard as he could.

Running towards Harry, Tom wanted to reach out for the kid but felt pushed back by some kind of invisible barrier.

What the hell was this?

Again he tried to touch Harry, but again he felt a force field push him back once he came closer than several feet to the child.

Tom was desperate to help him. At the same time, he couldn't believe what had just happened. He had never seen such a force field before. And certainly not one radiating off of a small child's chest. Again and again he tried to get hold of the kid, but felt pushed back.

I only want to help you! he thought. Please! Let me help you!

Again and again he stretched out his hands and slowly, very slowly he felt the energy decrease which was pushing him back. Harry still had his eyes closed, mumbling inaudible words. His body was rigid and blood from his head wound was soaking his shirt.

Then, Tom felt the barrier vanish. Immediately the boy's body relaxed and he fell. Hasting forward he managed to grab Harry's shoulders to keep him from hitting his head on the ground.

I shouldn't have left him alone in the car! Tom berated himself.

Holding the unconscious boy in his arms, he felt how his own shirt was slowly soaked with the blood dripping from the child's head wound. He glanced around for a second, then he lay Harry to the ground carefully and tore a sleeve from his shirt, wrapping the elastic fabric around the boy's head to halt the bleeding.

We need an ambulance now! Tom thought, but then he hesitated. What had happened with that boy? What was this weird power he had displayed? How could he possibly have sent his uncle (Tom figured that assumedly, that person was Harry's uncle) flying across the lawn for a couple of feet, regarding his small size and his uncle's mass. The balance of forces was just so off... definitely, something strange had happened.

Looking down at Harry, Tom realised that he had to make a decision quickly. He picked up the boy and held him close to his chest, arms wrapped around his fragile body. Looking towards Petunia he saw that her husband had already regained consciousness. And apart from being obviously badly shaken, he displayed no visible injuries. His face had adapted a nasty shade of purple and he tried to scramble to his feet, ready to charge any second.

In desperation, Petunia grabbed his arm, forcing him back down onto the lawn.

'THIS FREAK HAS DONE IT NOW, THIS WAS ONCE TOO OFTEN!' Vernon hollered. 'LET GO OF ME! I'LL KILL HIM!'

With tears running down her cheeks, Petunia looked at Tom.

'Please!' she begged. 'You have to take him away now!'

Feeling torn between leaving the woman with her husband or keeping the kid in reach of that man, Tom decided that the need to take care of the boy's injuries was more pressing. He yanked open the co-driver's door and placed Harry inside once more, fastened his seatbelt and slammed the door shut.

Then he hastened around the car and got in, started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, regarding the bizarre scene one last brief moment before speeding away. The man had tried to run after him for a couple of seconds, having shaken off his wife who sat desperately sobbing on the ground now.

Hopefully she will be alright, Tom thought. He would have to check on her. But not now.

Had the man just screamed that – once too often – it had happened before? What did they know about the kid and about his abilities? What did they mean?

Ravaging his mind, Tom weighed up his options. He could bring the boy into the emergency care of his former hospital and have him thoroughly checked and taken care of. But due to his head injury, they would x-ray him and possibly perform a CAT scan. What if anything that had just happened with the boy, this strange force field, was detected by the instruments? He had never seen anything like this before in his entire life and surely the boy would find himself subjected to endless tests, screenings and possibly never be left alone anymore once his ability – or whatever it was – was discovered.

Although feeling much shaken by the skill the boy had displayed, he decided to give it a chance and find out about this when there was time – not now – not in a way that drew attention to the boy and maybe alerted officials. He needed to keep them out of this and take matters into his own hands!

For a moment, Tom considered driving back home. Yet he had to admit that bringing a boy with uncontrolled powers to his own home in which his wife and three children were waiting was not really the best idea, either.

Settling for the next best option, Tom jerked his car around at the upcoming intersection. Minutes that seemed like hours had passed when he finally pulled into the driveway of his surgery. He got out of the car and carefully carried the boy inside, placing him on a strecher in one of his treatment rooms. Locking the front door again, Tom made sure that all blinds were closed. Then he took a deep breath. Coming here had been a good choice. Here he had all the equipment he really needed to take care of the kid's injuries now!

After checking the boy's vital signs, he removed the makeshift head bandage and cleaned the wound with a sterile cloth. It had ceased bleeding. Dabbing at it with the cloth, he felt immensely relieved, seeing that most of the blood that had spluttered across the boy's face came off. The actual wound seemed to be a small cut above his left temple that wouldn't require more than four stiches.

Checking the boy's pupils with a small lamp, he found them to be of the same size and reacting just like they should, ruling out internal bleeding or more severe brain injuries at this stage. Probably a concussion, Tom thought. He would have to keep an eye on the symptoms though. Feeling guilty that he didn't take him to the hospital right away, Tom was just about to change his mind when the boy stirred a little and lifted his hands, trying to cover his face.

'Harry, can you hear me?'

'Uuuuh,' Harry groaned in pain.

'Harry, look at me.'

Slowly the boy opened his eyes and looked at Tom for a second, then his face twisted. He managed to force out a 'sick' as he started rolling his eyes. Grabbing a kidney dish close by, Tom quickly shoved it in front of Harry.

Once the boy looked up again, Tom dabbed his face with a paper towel. Then he repeated

'Harry, can you see me?'

Nod.

'How many fingers am I holding up with my left hand?'

'Six?'

Tom sighed.

'How do you feel?'

'Sick.. and dizzy. My head is hurting so bad.'

Carefully, Tom supported Harry's upper body and pushed him gently back down to the strecher.

'Don't move and relax. I will give you something to make it better. Don't close your eyes if you start to feel sick again.'

Extracting an injection from one of his medicine cabinets, he gave the boy a shot to lessen the pain and stabilize him. Only a few moments passed before it unfolded the desired effect, clearly relaxing the boy. Quickly, Tom grabbed another injection for local anaesthesia and applied it around the head wound.

Stiching the boy up hadn't taken more than a couple of minutes. Once he was done and had put his instruments away again, Tom sat down next to the kid, still lying on the stretcher, tranquilised by the shots he had been given.

He looked at the multiple bruises on the boy's face and carefully touched his cheeks with his fingers, anger welling up once more in his chest. He felt tears sting his eyes and rubbed them away with his thumbs, running his fingers through his hair. With a deep sigh he let go and grabbed Harry's unharmed hand.

'Harry, how do you feel now?'

'So tired,' he mumbled.

'Are you still feeling sick?'

'A little.'

'Does it hurt anywhere else?'

'Always does... sooo tired, lemme sleep, pleaaaaase.'

The boy hadn't even opened his eyes again and seemed to be dozing off on the medication again.

With a sigh, Tom stood up and regarded the boy's blood-soaked shirt. Deciding that one of his work shirts, though way too huge for the little boy, was better than what he wore at present, Tom made sure that his patient wouldn't fall off the stretcher and left the examination room. Moments later he came back with a clean shirt and some swabs in one hand and a water bowl in the other one.

Checking that the he was only dozing and not unconscious, he said

'I am going to take your shirt off, Harry. Let's get you cleaned up!'

With that, he lifted the boy's chest up, pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into a wastebin underneath the stretcher. Then he dampened the swabs and started to remove all traces of blood from the boy's chest. Carefully rolling Harry over to his side, he had wanted to wash the last blood smears off the child's body when a deep sigh escaped Tom's mouth.

The child's back was littered with bruises and welts which looked like that bastard had taken his anger out on the child with a belt.

Barely able to control his anger, he spotted more fingerprint-shaped bruises on Harry's upper arm.

As Tom tried to pull the dry and clean shirt over Harry's head, he stirred a little, shielding his head with his arms. With eyes still closed he started to mumble again.

'No.. hoo.. nommy fault.. please don't strangleme. .no. Wasn't bad... don't.. pleeease.'

Tom pulled the shirt down and let go of the boy again immediately. Instantly, the child relaxed and slowly started to stroke the warm and dry shirt with his hands carefully before rolling onto his side. Drawing up his knees to his chest and huddling his head against his hands, he muttered another few incomprehensible words before he finally fell asleep.

Looking at the boy for a brief moment, Tom decided to let him rest, fetched a blanket from the next room and covered the child with it, carefully tucking it in.

Drawing up a chair next to the strecher, Tom sank into it. Gently he started to stroke the boy's hair just like he did so often with his own kids. Slowly, he felt the tension falling off from him. Silent tears, a mix of anger and exhaustion, ran down his cheeks as he kept brushing a strand of hair out of the boy's face, more to calm himself than the boy who was by now effectively drugged and probably oblivious to any touch at all.

As he finally calmed down, a guilty pang hit his heart – surely his wife and kids would be at home, wondering why he hadn't returned home yet.

Tom pushed himself off his chair and made his way to the telephone.

The phone only rang once before it was picked up. Apparently, his wife had been sitting right next to it.

'Tom?'

'There was an emergency, Dana.'

'The kids said they made a new friend and you were going to drive him home?'

'Harry. The kid I was telling you about. He came to my surgery on Wednesday.'

'Oh,' his wife replied, taken aback, 'what a strange coincidence.'

'I know!' Tom replied. 'You should have seen my face when I saw him at the Gregory's, sitting right next to Sam and Marie! Apparently they met on the playground. I thought I might never get a chance like this again and wanted to talk to him! I couldn't just do nothing and let him walk away again!'

'Of course you had to,' his wife said reassuringly. 'So did he tell you what happened?'

For a moment, Tom considered telling his wife the whole mindblowing story. Then, he decided that he didn't want to do this on the phone, fearing to scare her with his account.

'Hard to explain on the phone. But I can prove it now.'

'Oh that's good,' Dana said with a soothing voice. Then she added, 'I am sorry, love. I know this is hard on you. But you've done the right thing! He will surely be off much better now that he is safe.'

Looking at the boy who had started to stirr lightly in his sleep, Tom wasn't so sure about that. Was the child really safe? And what was he supposed to do with him now?

'Darling, please, I... '

'You know you don't have to beg.' Even through the phone Tom could hear his wife smile. 'Take whatever time you need. The kids are fine! Marie and Emma are sleeping by now and Sam's up in his room, reading this new book you bought him last week. He wanted to wait for you. I'll talk to him. You have had emergencies before, he'll understand.'

'Don't tell him about Harry though, Dana,' Tom insisted. 'I want to talk to him myself.'

'Okay, honey. Just take your time and get everything sorted. I want you to be able to get this off your mind again.'

'I love you,' Tom said.

'You too.'

With that, he hung up, sinking back into the chair once more. Twisting the fang that was suspended from his necklace, he desperately tried to come up with a plan how to handle the boy's strange power and what to do next, but weariness was finally catching up on him. Slowly letting go of his fang, his hand slipped to his side and Tom fell asleep.

x x x