Author's note: Thanks to Braxtonboyzz123 for the lovely comments on the previous chapter (and all the other chapters too!). I am so glad you liked them! It's always so nice to know what people think and interesting which bits capture different people's attention. Thanks also to FrankElza for your ongoing support. Hope you both enjoy this new chapter!

xox

Chapter 25

"Hey baby!" said, Tamara, climbing onto the bed, and crawling up to sit beside him. She pulled in close to him, pressing her body in close to his, and leant her head on his shoulder. He had Noah lying sleeping on his chest, but there was a faraway expression on his face like he was lost in a world of his own. "You okay?" she asked, taking his hand in hers and intertwining her fingers with his.

"Mmm" he replied, nodding slowly with a distant look in his eyes. "Just tired" he said, with a little sigh. He gazed down at the sleeping baby, softly snuffling against his chest, and then turned to look at her with a questioning look. "I've been thinking…" he said.

"Ooh… I wouldn't do that!" she said, with a little smirk, "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself!"

She knew it was a stupid joke but she wanted to try to lighten the mood somehow.

"Funny!" he said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at her. He didn't mind her joking around most of the time but he wanted to be serious right now. "I've been thinking… What would we do if someone just took him? …Just took Noah?" he asked, feeling a little sick at the thought of it. "I mean, what would we actually do? What would be the steps that we'd take to find him?"

She glanced at her tiny little baby, nestled safely in her husband's arms, and felt her stomach give a terrible lurch even just thinking about it.

"Uh…" she stammered, "uh… well, we'd call the police, wouldn't we?!"

"Exactly…" said Kyle, nodding and looking back at Noah's peaceful and sleepy little face as he stirred and gave a big yawn. "So, there'd be police reports, wouldn't there?"

Tamara nodded and gently stroked the top of Noah's little head, smoothing his dark hair, and feeling nervous at the thought of ever not knowing where he was.

"Yeah, that would be the first thing." she said, nodding to herself. "Then they'd put out an amber alert and it would be all over the news" she said, staring off into space herself as she thought through the likely chain of events. "And the police would probably bring us in for questioning…"

"So… If the police really think that I was abducted… why wouldn't there be any of that for me?" he said, blinking furiously, and wiping angrily at the few stray tears that were rolling down his cheeks. "They'd have found something by now." he said, shrugging his shoulders sadly. "I mean I know that they didn't have a lot of that stuff twenty years ago, but… there'd be police reports at least… Something!"

She reached out and turned his face towards her, looking into his sad brown eyes, and then giving him a long lingering kiss.

"You have to stop torturing yourself" she said, tilting her head at him. "I can't stand to see you like this!"

"I can't stop" he said, wiping again at his tears, and looking back down at Noah. "It's just whirring round and round in my head, Tam! …I can't stop thinking about it! I need answers! …Even if they're not the ones I'm hoping for! …I just need to know."

"They said it can take time" she said "We can't give up hope! They'll find something soon… and who knows… maybe there are people out there who've been searching for you!" Even as she said it, she hoped that her voice wouldn't betray how worried she was for him. Her worst fear was that they might never find anyone… or get any answers at all.

"I doubt it" he said, shaking his head. "I just don't see it."

He gently lifted Noah's sleepy little body, and lay him down in his cot beside the bed, stroking his little tummy, and caressing the side of his chubby little face. With a heavy sigh, he lay back with his hand behind his head, stretching out and staring at the ceiling. Tamara pulled in close beside him with her head on his chest and she began to trace patterns with her fingers on his skin. As they lay there, cuddled close together in comfortable silence, she listened to his heart beating, and he watched the rise and fall of Noah's little chest in the cot beside the bed. He glanced at Tamara as she lay there beside him and he thought how nice it would be if they could just lie there together like that forever. If there was no world outside these walls, no memories of the life that had come before, and no fears for the future that lay ahead. Just him, his beautiful wife, and his tiny baby son. The only three people in existence… That would be just fine by him.

"I think the Someones need to find a new surname" he sighed, turning to kiss Tamara gently on the top of the head. "Mr Someone needs a new first name too… I don't think John is working out too well for him."

ii.

Kyle flicked on the bathroom light and padded over to the sink in a weary sort of way. He'd been trying to sleep all evening but couldn't stop tossing and turning. He knew that he was annoying Tamara and if he kept up all his restlessness, he'd probably wake Noah too. But he just couldn't help it! He was so nervous and uneasy about tomorrow. He didn't know how he was going to sit there and watch the funeral! How was he meant to attend the funeral of the boy whose life he'd stolen?! As much as he'd been trying to pretend that he was okay with this, he really wasn't!

He gave a heavy sigh and turned on the cold tap, leaning his elbows on the side of the sink, and throwing handfuls of cold water into his face.

"Get it together!" he growled at himself, "Not now!"

He knew he was on the brink of having a panic attack. His heart was beating far too fast, thumping in his chest, and he felt like there were iron bands around his ribcage, stopping him from breathing in properly. His breaths were coming short and fast. Too shallow to really help. He hated this feeling!

"Come on!" he grunted, and drove his fist into his thigh as hard as he could. He hissed a little and closed his eyes, revelling in the pain as it travelled up and down his leg and began throbbing. He suddenly gasped a deep breath, as though the bands around his chest had loosened a little. He leaned both hands on the edge of the sink and drew in a couple of shaky breaths, holding them in as long as he could. His heart was still beating too fast but he was starting to calm down. This was the only thing that seemed to help him. The only thing that gave him back control.

He knew there was a deep and nasty bruise there already. It was multiple shades of black and purple and yellow and blue, layers of bruising, and of healing at various stages. He'd managed to hide it from Tamara so far, even when they'd had sex the other day, but he knew what she would say if she saw it. She wouldn't understand. No-one would understand. He didn't even really understand it himself. He just knew that he needed to do it.

He blew out a big breath and shook himself a little. It was about 3am and he needed to get some sleep if he was going to do this thing tomorrow. He turned off the tap and looked up at the mirror for the first time since he'd come in here.

His heart nearly stopped!

He was staring into the sad brown eyes of a young boy. Not just a boy, but 'the boy'. That broken and damaged child he'd once been! Those eyes were staring right through him, but at the same time, they seemed to plead with him and ask for help. It was like he was begging for someone, anyone to come and save him. As pointless as that was… His emaciated little body was littered with bruises and cuts; tell-tale signs of the abuse he had suffered. His tracksuit bottoms hung off his narrow little hips, hardly staying up, and just above the waistband there were vivid black fingerprints marking the pale flesh. He'd obviously been held tight in someone's unforgiving grasp. Similar hand-shaped bruises marked his upper arms and his throat, and he had dark bruises on his abdomen, as well as a split lip.

Kyle leaned forward and reached one hand out toward the mirror. He pulled back in shock when the child in the mirror did the same, literally mirroring his movements. He stared at the child for a moment and then lifted his hand experimentally to his own mouth, heart thumping in his chest.

'This can't be real!' he said to himself, as he watched the child make exactly the same movement. Thin little fingers traced the split in his lip, and he winced a little himself at the touch. The child winced too!

He held one hand up in front of him and waved at the child. The child returned the gesture.

That's when he looked down at his own body and gasped when he saw the bruises on his own small body. He wasn't a man anymore! He was a child of maybe ten years old! Skinny little arms and gangly little legs. Maybe only 4 foot tall!

"No!" he shouted, leaping backwards so violently that he hit his head on the door behind him, "Noooooo!"

His mind was racing! Had he ever really escaped that house?! Had the Summers ever really taken him in?! Were Simon and Jessica waiting outside this door for him?! Was all of this life he'd been living just a fantasy?!

A wave of nausea crashed over him and bile began rising in his throat.

He looked around him, eyes flitting wildly, as he tried to figure out where he was. Had they always had brown and cream shag carpet in the bathroom?! Had they always had an avocado bathroom suite?! Had the light fixture always had loose wires around it?! Had there always been a smell of urine and mildew?!

He whimpered a little when he looked down at the deep hand-shaped bruises on his arms. He could see where the fingers had cruelly crushed the flesh on his thin arms. With a shaking hand, he traced his fingers over the marks, and bit his bottom lip to keep from moaning. They hurt! They really hurt!

Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed his throat and he gasped in fright as he was pulled back against a man's body. A man's excited body. He started to wriggle and squirm, and pulled desperately at the hands holding him. He struggled with all he had to try to get away, but he was too small and helpless. It was like he was being manhandled by a giant. The man was twice his size! No matter what he did, he couldn't escape his strangle hold. He forced himself to stop struggling, and raised his eyes to look at the man behind him. His heart was beating so fast! Oh God, it was Simon! It was Simon!

"I told you to keep your mouth shut!" Simon hissed, so close to his ear he could feel his breath, "I told you what would happen, didn't I?! But, oh no! You decided to run your little mouth off to anyone that would listen, didn't you?! You even talked to the cops!" He narrowed his eyes at him, pulling a knife across his throat, and using his other hand to grip his chin firmly. He smirked at him in the mirror and gave him a wink, "Now, what do you think is going to happen?"

Before he got a chance to say anything, a hand was being forced inside his mouth, and his tongue was yanked out violently. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. Somehow, he'd always known this day was coming. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain.

"Nuh, uh, uh!" scolded Simon, as he shook him angrily, "Open those pretty little eyes of yours… I want you to look at yourself when I do it!"

"uuuhhhhmmmm!" he pleaded, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn't do it. He couldn't watch! Not that!

"Open your fucking eyes!" growled Simon, as he moved the point of the blade up to touch his eyelid, "Or your tongue won't be the only thing you lose tonight, you little shit!" He pressed the blade in a little and nicked him just under his eye. "Open them!" he warned him.

He forced his eyes open and stared straight ahead into the mirror. He could see himself trembling, every inch of his body shaking, as he stood there with that man behind him. He could feel him pressing into him from behind. It was making him feel sick, on top of everything else. Flashes of memories were flooding through his mind. This was the man that had hurt him more times than anyone else.

And now he was going to cut his tongue out and make him watch!

He wasn't going to let this happen! He summoned all his strength and drove his elbow backwards, expecting to make contact with Simon's abdomen, but instead he hit thin air.

"What the fuck?!" he gasped, as he spun around. Simon was gone. He wasn't behind him. He gave an exasperated little laugh when he realised that he'd grown about 2 feet and wasn't a child anymore. The floor was tiled, and the bathroom suite was white. "It was just a dream!" he told himself, as he held his hand to his chest. His heart was still thumping painfully fast. "Calm down… It was just a dream."

He turned back towards the mirror and cried out in horror when he saw the boy there! The child was crying hysterically as he slumped across the sink with blood pouring like syrup from his mouth. His little hands hovered just below his face, blood passing through his trembling fingers, as he stared at it in shock. A bloody pair of scissors lay on the countertop, and a child's tongue lay discarded in the sink. Pink and bloody, but very recognisably a tongue. Slowly the boy's eyes raised to meet his own, a look of accusation on his face.

He watched in shock and horror as the child dipped his fingers in the blood pooling in the sink and used it to write on his own chest. Slowly, a word appeared, letter by bloody letter, as Simon stood grinning in the mirror.

' IMPOSTER'

He began to shake his head.

"Nooo!" he shouted, "I'm not! I'm not! I didn't mean to!" He tried wiping at the mirror as though he could somehow reach through and wipe it off the boy's chest. All he felt was the cold glass separating them.

The child sneered at him, a bloody gaping grin on his face, as he dipped his fingers in the blood again and began writing on the mirror. Kyle was breathing hard and fast again, his chest heaving painfully, as he watched the word appear. His stomach churned at the sight of it.

'N O – O N E'

He let out a loud roar and punched the mirror, shattering it, and ending up with a shard of glass buried in his hand. There was a pain so intense in his chest that he felt like he was dying. He couldn't breathe. Was he having a heart attack?!

"I'm not no-one!" he screamed, voice breaking as tears streamed down his face, "I'm not no-one! I'm not… I'm not no-one!" The problem was, he knew it was true!

Suddenly, a pair of arms were round his chest and pinning his arms to his sides. He screamed and began bucking his body, desperately trying to get away. "Noooo!" he roared breathlessly, "Get off me! Get off me! Please… Please let me go! Stop!"

"Shh, hey, hey…" said the voice behind him, "Hey, come on… calm down… I'm not gonna hurt you… It's just a dream." The arms were holding him tight and refusing to let him go.

"Nooo!" he screamed again, continuing to fight. He couldn't let it happen. Not again!

"Hey, hey, c'mon mate, it's me…" said Heath, struggling to hold him, "It's Heath… It's just me, just your brother…"

"H-Heath?" he asked, no longer fighting him and turning his head to look at him. His eyes were wide and startled. He looked almost childlike in his semi-conscious state.

"Yeah, mate" said Heath, sounding quite sad, "It's me… It's just me…"

He slumped in his Heath's arms and the weight of his body took both of them to the bathroom floor in a crumpled heap. "Hey, shhh" soothed Heath, as Kyle suddenly clung to his body like a frightened child, his hand clutching at his t-shirt, "Hey, I got ya… I got ya, mate…" he cooed. He used his hand to wipe the word 'no-one' off Kyle's forehead, feeling more than a little shocked to find it there in the first place, and that it had been written in blood. They were going to have to give his counsellor a call in the morning.

"He's bleeding" said Tamara, nodding to his injured hand as she stood in the doorway. She looked frightened and she'd obviously been crying. "I think we need to take him to the hospital."

iii.

"Um… This is a really hard thing to have to do." said Heath, staring out at the very small gathering by the graveside, "As you all know…I didn't know my little brother"

He glanced at Kyle in concern, eyeing the bandage on his hand. He hadn't been sure about allowing him to come today, considering what had happened last night, but who was he to say that he shouldn't be here? Maybe he needed to do this, no matter how hard it was. He took a deep breath before continuing to read from the piece of paper in front of him.

"I didn't know my little brother at all" he said, "I never got the chance to meet him because... because some monsters stole him from this world before he even got a chance to make his mark. He was only a little kid!"

His voice broke on the last few words, and he took a big puff of air and blew it out again to regain his composure. He glanced at the faces gathered around him, thinking how sad it was that this little boy didn't have a single person that he knew at his funeral. He stared back down at the sheet of paper fluttering in his shaking hands.

"Um… so… I…" he stammered, as he desperately tried to find his place in his notes again.

With a heavy sigh, he folded the piece of paper and turned to look at the small coffin. It looked so tiny!

"All I really want to say is that none of this is fair! He was only a little kid and he shouldn't have died the way that he did! He died a terrible death! No-one should die in a place like that… I guess… I guess, I would have liked to know him… I mean I know that me and my brothers would have liked to know him, and to know the man that he would have become… but… but he was taken from us."

He turned to look at Kyle, who was sitting beside Tamara a short distance away. He was gripping her hand for dear life and staring at the ground. The Summers were sitting behind him, with David leaning forward with his hand on Kyle's shoulder for support.

Heath gave Tamara a worried look, and nodded for her to check that Kyle was okay. He looked very pale and shaky, and given his breakdown last night, they were both worried about him.

Heath looked around the other mourners, spotting a lot of friendly faces, as well as a few people that he wouldn't have expected to turn up. Marilyn and John were there, of course, which he thought was kind of them, and Irene had come to support Bianca. Alf Stewart had spoken to him yesterday, saying that he'd always had a lot of time for Brax, and asking if it was okay to come and pay his respects too. Heath had been quite touched by that. Leah and Zac had come, which he really hadn't expected, but he was grateful that they hadn't brought their gaggle of teenagers with them on this occasion. Evie and Josh were sitting beside Kyle, and Ash was sitting with Billie and Kat towards the back. Even Nate was there. It was a bigger affair than they'd originally intended. He scanned the crowd and was relieved to see that Phoebe hadn't come. At least she'd had the good sense to give it a swerve.

"What those people did was…" he continued, blinking back a few tears as his emotions started to get the better of him. "I don't even have a word for it... What they did was…" he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. He looked at Bianca, and his face began to crumple, as his eyes filled up with tears. "I'm sorry, I can't…" he said, beginning to cry.

All the stress from the last few weeks had finally caught up with him and he just felt a bit overwhelmed by it all.

Bianca stood up and held her hand out to him and brought him back to sit down beside her.

"You did really well" she whispered to him, giving his knee a little squeeze and kissing him lightly on the cheek.

The funeral director stood up and said, "Does anyone else wish to speak?" glancing around the gathered mourners. He was well aware of the unusual circumstances of this funeral, and just how sensitive the whole situation was, so he was keen to move things on if possible, but he still had to be mindful of normal proceedings.

No-one answered at first, and he was about to move on to the part where they lowered the coffin, when a woman's voice said, "I'd like to say something if that's okay?"

Marilyn teetered up to the front on stiletto heels that kept getting stuck in the grass, and faced the gathered crowd. John gave her an exasperated look and shook his head at her in an embarrassed sort of way.

"I didn't know little Kyle either" she said, shaking her head sadly. "None of us did… But as many of you know… I'm quite a spiritual person." She gave a little smile as she looked around the confused looking faces. Since getting back from her world travels she'd been talking more and more about her deepened understanding of the universe and how her time spent in India had allowed her to unlock her spiritual connection with both the living and the dead. "You're probably all wondering why I'm up here?" she said with a nervous giggle.

John made a face at her and motioned with his head for her to come and sit down again. He was obviously embarrassed.

Heath shrugged at Bianca, and gave Marilyn a thoroughly bemused look. In a way, he was grateful that the mad little hippy was breaking the tension a little bit, and he could see that even Kyle was slightly amused by it, but he had no idea what she thought she was doing! It wasn't like she was part of the family and she hadn't even really been invited. She had no real business getting up there!

"Yes, well…" said Marilyn, beginning to look a little embarrassed herself. "As I said, I didn't know little Kyle… but he came to me in a… I wouldn't exactly say a vision… It was more of a feeling…"

She looked at Kyle, as he stared at her. He was shakings his head in wonder, clearly thinking that she was a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic. She walked over and reached for his uninjured hand.

"Little Kyle has been watching over you all these years…" she said, holding his hand between both of hers, "Like a protector… or a guardian angel… He's the reason that you got out of that house… He wanted some good to come out of his death. He wanted you to have the life that he didn't get to have!" She turned and smiled at the coffin.

Kyle looked up at her in total shock, and opened his mouth to speak, but the words just wouldn't come. A swirl of emotion was overwhelming him. Part of him wanted to believe it, needing so badly to believe that Kyle wasn't angry with him for stealing his identity, and making it out of that house alive when he didn't. But another part of him, the cynical Kyle that knew that there was no afterlife, was seething inside. 'Little Kyle' wasn't waiting on the other side, smiling down at him, and wishing him well! He wasn't anywhere! His little life had been snuffed out, and taken from him. Now, all that was left of him was the bag of bones gathered up and stuffed in that coffin in front of them. Trying to pretend otherwise was just a lie, and very hurtful at that.

He didn't understand how people like this, these hippy dippy healer types, thought that it was okay to spin such webs of manipulative lies, and play with people's weaknesses and insecurities in such a shameless way. It was cruel. Like telling someone who's dying that they're going to get a miracle cure if they just touch this relic, or bathe in that sacred water, or pray to whoever… It hurts… That's what these people don't understand… Those lies really hurt because they give people false hope where there is none. Harsh reality then hits so much harder when the fantasy finally comes crashing down.

He was getting more and more angry by the second.

She gave him a big ridiculous smile and patted his hand. "He wants you to be happy." she said, "I can feel his presence."

Kyle's heart was racing now as an anger was building in his chest. He didn't want to shout at Marilyn, and he'd promised himself that he'd hold it together, at least for the day of the funeral, but this was just too much! He couldn't deal with all this mumbo jumbo, no matter how well-meant it was! He started biting his tongue, digging his teeth into his own flesh until he could taste blood, just like he'd done as a child.

"Okay, that's enough!" said Heath, picking up on Kyle's obvious distress and taking Marilyn by the elbow to steer her back towards John. "Thanks Marilyn" he said to her, throwing John an exasperated look and rolling his eyes at him.

Kyle sat forward with his head in his hands, and stared at the ground, as Tamara gently rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. He was clearly close to a panic attack and he was doing some breathing exercises that his counsellor had been teaching him. He was feeling such a range of emotions in this moment though, that it was difficult for him to know what to do.

"Okay, well…" said the funeral director taking his place at the front. "Now that everyone has spoken… If you'd all like to stand, we will now commit Kyle's body to the ground." He pushed a button and the coffin began to lower with soft instrumental music playing in the background.

Kyle stood up, holding hands with Tamara, and fixed his eyes on the grey coffin as it disappeared into the earth. He thought how easily that could have been him in there instead of this other Kyle. The Hames' could easily have murdered him instead and no-one would have missed him, but instead they killed this other little boy, and he had simply filled the void that he'd left behind. Now he would have to try to carve out a space of his own in the world, whatever shape that happened to take.

Watching the coffin, he felt like he was burying a part of himself, like half of him was being ripped away. He really didn't know how he was going to start again. He'd been going through the motions for the last few weeks, but today it had all become so much more real for him, and he couldn't pretend it wasn't happening anymore. He had just buried Kyle Braxton. He had actually watched Kyle Braxton's funeral. There was no going back from here! The 'Boy' was right; he was 'no-one'

He looked at the arm of his suit jacket where he knew his 'All Or Nothing' tattoo was. How apt had that tattoo turned out to be?! 'All… or Nothing'? Now, he knew which one he was. He clamped his hand around it, squeezing hard and trying to hurt himself. He imagined digging his fingernails into his own flesh and peeling his tattoo away. Of course, if he did that, he knew he'd never be able to stop there. He'd have to remove all his skin like a snake and simply walk away.

He glanced over at Heath, suddenly realising that he was staring at him intently, and gave a very half-hearted smile. It was the best he could manage in the circumstances. He couldn't blame him for being worried after scaring him half to death last night. He just wished he'd back off a little.

Heath got up to thank everyone for coming and to let them know that there would be some sandwiches and coffee back at their house if anyone wanted to come back. As he looked around the sad looking crowd, he suddenly became aware of a face at the back that he didn't recognise. He craned his head to try to see who it was and then he saw the cameras around his neck!

"Hey!" he shouted, as he saw the man lift the camera and start snapping photos. "What are you doing?!" he yelled again, rushing towards him.

The man continued to snap photos of the funeral scene, ignoring the fact that Heath was fast approaching, and that the crowd had turned to glare at him angrily. As Heath approached, the man held his hands up and said, "If you touch me or my camera, I'll sue! Just try me!"

Heath grabbed the front of his shirt and growled, "You can't come to a private funeral and start taking photos! What kind of sicko are you?!"

"Just a journalist doing his job" said the man, showing a name badge inside his jacket. "And this is a public space so I can take as many photos as I like! …Now if you don't let me go, I'll have you for assault!"

"Heath! Let him go!" said Kat, suddenly appearing at his side. "It's really not worth it!" she said, gently pulling at his arm and shaking her head at him.

Heath reluctantly released him and the man dusted himself off with a self-satisfied look on his face. He backed away smiling smugly at him and then turned to leave.

"Flamin' mongrel!" exclaimed Alf, standing beside Heath and shaking his head in disgust as they watched the journalist walk away. "What is the world coming to?!" he asked, in an exasperated tone.

Heath blew out a big breath, trying to calm himself down, and turned to check where Kyle was. He could see Tamara standing with Noah in his pram, staring off into the distance with a look of panic on her face. Kyle was nowhere to be seen! Suddenly she spun round and made eye contact with him, gesturing with her arms that she didn't know what to do.

"He took off!" she shouted to him, with big eyes full of fear and worry, "He just ran!"