He could feel the tiredness inside him like a worm, slowly but deliberately draining his energy. He was alive… He heard his phone ringing somewhere, but he wasn't really listening. Everything seemed to move in a dragged pace, all submerged into a hazy fuzz that was his vision.

His head felt like it had been filled with smoke that clouded his thoughts and stopped them from emerging. The only thing he knew was that he had to move…

He forced his eyes open and blinked away the dark spots that covered his vision…It was all coming back to him…

Tom…the needle… his words…

A sense of panic surged through him, expelling some of the fog… He pushed his body up from the couch and rose to his feet. He struggled to keep his balance. It was like some sort of outer body experience. His legs didn't work. Neither did his hands. Or his fingers. Somewhere, deep inside he knew his brain was sending signals telling him what to do. Whether or not his body was listening was a different story. He could feel it moving. He could feel it doing what it wanted.

He spotted his jeans lying a few feet away and tried to walk towards them, but his legs were telling him otherwise. They were swaying – left and right. No matter how many steps he took, he was no closer to where he wanted to be.

The aching in his skull ebbed and flowed like a cold tide, yet the pain was always there. It felt as if the blackest of clouds were over his head with no intention of clearing anytime soon. He staggered and tried to grab a hold of the couch to keep himself upright, but he missed and collapsed back on the floor in a heap of limbs…

He was hating this…Absolutely hating this…

He had to get up…He just had to get up… Once again, he attempted to get back up to his feet and succeeded somewhat before walking unsteadily towards where his discarded jeans lay…a couple of feet away. A sense of accomplishment filled him as he managed to reach them but it soon evaporated when his knees gave way once again and he was back on the floor.

He fished out his phone from his pocket with unsteady fingers and it took him three tries just to get the screen on. The first thing he noticed was the day and time and it only served to worsen the panic that was clamping down on his heart and mind…

How the hell had he been unconscious for more than 48 hours?

He shuddered as he thought about what Tom could have achieved in those 48 hours. His fears were confirmed when he saw the amount of missed calls he'd received from Andrew, Mark and the twins… The last one had been a few minutes ago…

He'd never regretted disabling GPS tracking on his phone as much as he did in that moment. To be fair, he hadn't wanted to be tracked back to this place. He hadn't been prepared for the fact that Tom might find him anyway and he'd be in a situation like this…

He called Andrew and waited for him to pick up as he struggled to get his headache under control…

"Sir…"

He didn't recognize his voice when he spoke,

"Don't Sir me…Tell me what happened…"

Andrew was silent for a moment before he spoke,

"Where are you, Sir? We've been trying to track your phone for the past two days…Are you okay?"

His tongue felt like sandpaper, his mouth was dry as a desert and he couldn't even muster a droplet of saliva as he swallowed painfully before he dictated the address. The phone slipped from his fingers as soon as he ended the call and rested his head back against the floor, willing the pain to go away…willing his body to cooperate with him…

He faded in and out of consciousness during the time it took for Andrew to get there… The door was pushed open with a loud bang and that momentarily brought him to his senses before his brain decided that it didn't have the strength to power them and shut off again….

The next thing he knew, he felt someone patting his cheek…. some voices…Andrew's voice… Mark's voice…. They were talking…. Their tones hushed but panicked… He couldn't make out what they were saying for the life of him.

And then his eyelid was being pushed back gently and a blinding light was being shined into it. He meant to tell them to stop it but the sound that escaped his lips was nothing more than a weak groan,

"He's awake."

He felt a pair of strong arms haul him up and then once again he felt the cushioning of the couch against his back. Opening his eyes had never seemed more of a struggle then it did in that moment. A voice he didn't recognize spoke up,

"It seems like he was drugged… He's severely dehydrated so that suggests that it wasn't done recently…I'll have to take a blood sample to determine which toxin was used. In the meantime, he'll need to be hospitalized."

It was Andrew that spoke,

"We can't take him to the hospital. He won't want that…"

Mark suggested,

"He'll be okay at the Estate. We can arrange for a doctor to tend to him."

There was a pause before Andrew replied,

"That seems like the most plausible option in the light of current circumstances."

Something about that just pricked his hazy brain the wrong away but he was too tired to deliberate on that any further. He felt someone pat his cheek and realized that it was Mark when he gently spoke,

"You're going to be okay, Boss…We've got you now…"

Someone's phone started ringing and then he heard Andrew speak,

"We found him."

For a moment there was silence and then Andrew spoke,

"He was drugged… But he'll survive…"

Andrew sighed,

"There's no need for you to come here…We're bringing him to the Estate."

Harry knew Andrew wasn't talking to Fenrir… He would never talk to him so casually… The question that was burning inside his mind, but he couldn't voice was 'Where was Fenrir and how was he?'

He wanted nothing more than to know that answer to those questions but somehow at that moment, his brain decided to deprive him of whatever remaining senses he'd had left and everything went blank.