Author's Note: Warning for SLASH, though not of the variety or depth this story will eventually gain.

Author's Note 2: Ok, I've been warned that this is a bit confusing (and doesn't live up to expectation, sadly) so I've made some small changes in my choice of words in this chapter. I'll try and come back in a couple of hours to do a proper overhaul but until then, please bear with me.

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"For my will is as strong," John muttered, "And my bloody kingdom is as great."

It had all begun with the boy and the book. He had agreed to perform one favour, mostly because Toby had been interesting in an otherwise monochromatic life. Those blue eyes, somehow so familiar, looking at him… in such strange ways. Asking questions? Or answering them? Familiar and not.

And now strange men were walking in off the streets and offering him information. Enigmatically coloured information, no less.

He snorted in derision and cupped his face in his palm, turning things over swiftly in his head.

He'd sent Sam to get the boy's book back.

The only person he could trust, was Sam. The only one who didn't seem capable of subterfuge.

He tried to recall the man in black. Toby's man in black. They had been standing there and John had felt something. A frisson. It had whispered down his spine and somehow he had known that this man knew him.

For the life of him he couldn't think how unless it was from the past- the past was so very problematic. Not that the future was looking any better, he had to admit.

He tapped a pencil restlessly against his knee and then gave up the wait. There was work to be done. And the store had to stay open. He couldn't open and close like a snapdragon. He was only the manager, and there were few customers as it was.

Junk sold to those who valued junk. And there were few left in the world who wanted other people's junk.

Instinctively his hand went to the book and traced the spine possessively.

Across town, Toby tried to grasp the rudiments of a mathematical tangle. He gave up halfway through, and the teacher didn't seem to care all that much either. He spent the next five minutes idly watching Jake stick his tongue out and scratch his head. Greg was sitting behind him, and if Toby concentrated, he imagined he could hear his best friend breathe.

Quiet and slow. In and out. The slow pump of a healthy, young heart, thud-thudding just beneath it.

He opened his eyes when someone let out a hacking cough but it was a false alarm. No one was looking up yet and no one was really done. Mr. Wexler was doing something else at his desk and for once, no one seemed in any mood to talk much.

The balled-up scrap of paper that suddenly rolled to his feet was abrupt, and he had to smother a grin because this was such an old habit.

He nonchalantly picked up the piece of paper and smoothed it out across the page of his book.

He read it, lips twitching, and glanced up repeatedly to make sure that Mr. Wexler was not going to burst his bubble. That satisfied, he added a few more words, and slipped it down to the ground. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if his aim had gotten worse since the last time they'd tried this. But then consigned his soul to Pan and let his foot flick.

After waiting a moment or two, he looked back over his shoulder. Greg grinned and nodded. And Toby's world was a brighter place with a partner in crime.

It went back and forth a few more times before the class got busy again. And Toby was sitting up straighter, head cleared, as Greg put himself out to be a smart ass.

There was something about Greg that craved attention and Toby had always been supportive of that. There were non-too subtle whispers and comments going on behind him, along with Greg's more openly expressed innocent queries as to the whys and wherefores of mathematics.

By the time the bell went, the world was looking abnormally normal again.

"Hey, look! You can smile again," Greg noted, stuffing his books into a moderately controlled pile under his arm.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Toby eyed him. "I've pinned you before," he warned.

"Fuck that," Greg said grandly, "We were playing. You want to wrestle, you'd better be ready to get your ass kicked."

"Ha! The only thing you can kick is a barn."

"Your butt's about that size, anyway."

Toby shouldered him and they tussled good-naturedly in the hallway. Victor passed by and broke them apart. Then proceeded to rumple Greg up and mock-threaten him.

Toby stood idly by and watched, thinking that Greg was going to come out of it looking like he'd been dragged backwards through a bush. Not that Greg ever cared, he remembered, Greg was a very physical sort of person. Very hands-on.

They made it through to lunch without any of the teachers getting too tired of them. Colin managed to get a detention but apart from that shock, things were quiet. Things were pleasant. Things were, in fact, normal.

Which was why Toby found himself in the toilets at school, hand pressed to his forehead and a train running through his head as he rocked his insanity closely to his chest.

It was too normal. And nothing was the same.

"Hey, come on," Greg sighed, "Toby! Man, this is not cool. Come on! We've got class!"

"Fuck off."

"Are you sick? Puking or something? I can get the nurse if you're sick."

Toby could imagine the expression on Greg's face, the half-embarrassed and half-angry look, a slight line of strain between his dark brows as he tried to hear what his eyes couldn't see. And he didn't want to see it.

"I'm not sick," Toby growled, "Go to class. I'm fine."

"So why're you stuck in the toilet? You're getting periods now?"

"Shut up."

Silence.

Toby had heard the viciousness in his own voice. The very serious note of warning. He didn't think he'd ever go barrelling out of a toilet cubicle and hit his best friend for being a pissy idiot but lately… lately things had been tricky. He wanted to apologize almost as soon as he said it.

And then quietly, softly- "Toby, is it one of your headaches?"

Toby squeezed his eyes shut. "Yeah." Convenient lie. Always had been. He'd never had a migraine but an occasional dull ache behind his eyes had bought him a lot of space when Sarah was first gone. He'd used it on Greg too, because they'd been so close.

Toby had thought at the time that nothing could be more frustrating than Greg's concern. He'd been thinking lately that unconcern was just as bad.

"Want me to get an aspirin or water or something?"

"Nope, I'm fine."

Fine. He felt it was appropriate to sit in the toilet. His life was gurgling down the drain in any case.

"Maybe I should call your mom."

"No! Are you mad?"

"Okay, okay."

There was a sudden thump and Toby didn't need to think to know that Greg had just collapsed against the door of his cubicle, back to the plastic and hand automatically raking through his dark hair. Dark curls that looked like he'd been dragged backwards through a bush.

Toby undid the catch and Greg came in. Thoroughly unashamed. And looked at him.

"You don't look good."

"Thanks, Doctor Symons."

Greg pretended to preen. "That's me. Hottest doctor in Hollywood. Surgeon to the Stars." Dropped his arm and sobered up in ways Toby rarely got to see. "But really, you look like shit. Your eyes are all smudgy."

"Yeah?" Toby put up his fingers and touched the sore skin under his left eye. "Oh."

"Dreams, right?"

"Usual. That time of the year, remember?"

"It's never this bad. You're getting paranoid. Phone calls about being followed and stuff. You should tell your shrink. And what's this about some shopkeeper called John?"

"John?"

Greg's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. Your mom called my mom. My mom asked me all sorts of questions about who we talk to and where we go. Is this…" he faltered a little and then, because it was Greg, let aggression take over, "He's not some sort of perv, is he? You're not sucking his dick, are you?"

Toby could have fallen off the seat and as it was he stared and gaped. "I'm not!"

"I told my mom but I could see she wanted to ask. They can't say it but they always want to ask. It's like that time when…"

And then Greg uncharacteristically fell silent and bit his lip.

"When?" Toby prompted.

Greg shrugged. "You're looking better now. Think we should go to class?"

Toby looked at his watch. "Can't go now. We're too late."

"So we should stay here, then."

"They never check here."

"Don't say that." Greg immediately rapped on his head. "Knock on wood! When you say things like that, it always happens. You're tempting fate."

Toby shoved his hand away.

But unexpectedly Greg grabbed it and pulled. Or came down. Or something.

Toby's eyes were open. He saw it coming and saw it happen, but he couldn't comprehend exactly what 'it' was until 'it' was over and Greg was stumbling backwards and mumbling apologies.

"Oh, shit," figured somewhere in there.

And stupidly Toby wondered if he should tell Greg that he'd quite liked the kiss. But Greg was gone and the door swung to. So Toby matter-of-factly shut the stall door and stayed where he was. He put his right hand carefully on his knee, adjusted for maximum comfort, and then he leaned his face into his hands so that his thumb and forefingers were pressed up against his closed eyes.

And he spent ten minutes alternately pressing hard enough to throw off sparks behind his eyelids and alternately rubbing out the tiredness.

In the afternoon, Gordon caught up with him and insisted on giving him a ride home after school.

"I understand the embarrassment of being seen with a teacher," Gordon said acerbically, "Perhaps you can find an appropriate disguise until we're out of sight."

Toby didn't bother with disguises. He waited dutifully by the car because he simply didn't have the energy to deal with the known or unknown, Greg or the woman. He was not to know the woman was captured. He was not to know that Gail was waiting at a safe but reliable distance to make sure he reached his home without further mishap. But he did know that Greg had left without a word and that Colin was on detention.

Gordon took him home but got nothing more out of him. He made an excuse not to talk to the parents, but Toby wasn't listening.

Gordon was quite happy not to lie. And lo and behold, the boy left his jacket behind.

He held his breathe as Toby walked away. Crossed his fingers as the boy reached the front door. Felt his chest tighten until the door shut. And then Gordon swiftly touched the jacket and felt the pull. So strong it warped his vision.

He pulled away immediately and didn't bother to wait for Gail.