Ed keeps seeing that knife - the folded one. It chases him throughout his dreams every night - ever since he and Eddie had last spoken. It hasn't sprung forward yet, but he knows it can and he feels more than just a small amount of trepidation at the thought.

He had eventually figured out how to evade capture in the kitchen of his youth, and could freely watch the baker at work by the time he was a tall boy of twelve. He was no longer 'the butcher's wife,' despite the occasional taunt from kids who wanted to expand their pejorative repertoire beyond the now more prevalent creep, psycho, killer, and freak. It was like magic for Edward to watch the baker create the most fabulous confections and pastries - total works of art. He learned such amazing things - things he had learned in secret and couldn't wait to try out one day when he was on his own and away from there.

Instinctively, he knew that he was one of the kids that wasn't going to have to use a pine box as an exit from that place no matter how sick he got. No one had ever told him what was wrong with him - no one ever really knew anyway. But he had been right - he wasn't terminally ill. And even more curious, he had completely outgrown his illness on his own. . .

Ed finds himself in the middle of a dream where he's creating one extravagant concoction after another undisturbed, in the kitchen of his youth, when suddenly Eddie is in his face, knife in hand. And this time, it springs forward!

"Are you ready?" he asks Ed.

Yes.

Ed doesn't even have to say it, he just has to think it and suddenly he's sitting bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. The Doc, or more likely, Lee, is fast asleep beside him. She had fallen asleep as The Doc, but seems to awaken as Lee every morning for some reason. Ed finds it odd how quickly she still switches but has to remind himself that she hadn't come by this condition naturally.

His motions haven't awakened her yet and so he swings his legs over the side of the bed slowly, careful to keep them from disturbing her. Ed is facing the window that has the best view of the pool house. Eddie is within his reflection, waiting for him, flipping the spring knife in his hand, over and over. The sight turns his stomach and makes him sweat.

"Please stop," Ed whispers.

Eddie does. "Let's go."