Having successfully made it through the examination, Credence wasn't feeling quite as worried when it came time for the cleaning process to begin. He had already seen what this would consist of when he was watching Daniel Tiger, and yet there was still a nervous tremor causing his hands to shake as he spun the ring on his finger.

'Remember what Nagini told you,' Credence thought, trying to take his mind off the sound of metal scraping against his teeth. The noise itself, as well as the sensation that accompanied it, was rather unpleasant, though not at all painful. 'She said she wanted to hear me sing. She liked what I wrote, but how can I focus on all of that now?'

He abandoned his ring and started drumming his fingers on the armrest, his foot moving restlessly beneath the blanket. There was still so much nervous tension causing him to move, and within a matter of minutes he had gone back to his ring, staring at the ceiling while trying not to focus on the horrible scraping sounds.

He was probably imagining it, but it seemed as though she was taking her time with his wisdom teeth, just as she had done during the examination. Paying extra attention to these delicate areas was probably a good idea, he thought. But it worried him because he kept expecting her to announce that something was wrong, something was misaligned or possibly impacted.

He kept spinning the center piece on his ring, his other hand tapping out a rhythm on the armrest. He had to distract himself. He couldn't think about what was happening during the cleaning process. He was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

"You're doing well, Mr. Barebone," Karen said, adjusting the overhead light so she had a better view of his teeth. "That's a nice melody," she added, hearing the tune he was tapping with his left hand.

"Tha coo," came his garbled response, and Karen chuckled sweetly. "Himhm ah mooishun ackcholee."

Karen set her tools aside on the tray. "And close, please," she told him, suctioning the inside of his mouth before removing the tube and allowing him to speak. "You were saying?"

"I'm a musician," Credence said, taking a deep breath and trying to remain calm. "My mother got me started in music therapy... for my anxiety. I have friends. We perform together sometimes, and I think it helps." He nodded, still tapping on the armrest, trying to distract himself. "Yes, it definitely helps. I enjoy having a career in music, being in a band... I mean, I really do love music. I love singing and writing songs."

Much to his surprise, Karen was genuinely interested in what he had to say. So he kept going, grateful for the opportunity to take a break.

"My girlfriend..." Credence hesitated, his face blushing. "She likes to hear me sing. So I was just thinking... Maybe I can finish my song for her. Maybe try to concentrate on the lyrics in my mind while I'm here."

"Would it help if I turned on some music?" Karen asked. "We can do that at the request of patients. Some people find it calming, saying that it helps take their mind off the procedure."

Credence shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm alright..." He hesitated once more, looking down at his ring and spinning the silver band. "If there's too much going on around me, then I can't concentrate. Ma says I should avoid sensory overload... If there isn't much going on, then I can hear the music in my head and focus on that."

"Alright, if you're sure then." Karen made a slight adjustment on the chair, and Credence closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, carefully measuring each breath and counting to four before releasing the air in his lungs. "But if you change your mind, then you let me know, okay? It's no trouble at all to put on some music for our patients."

He considered asking if she had any music by Sons Of An Illustrious Father, just so he could share his creation with her. But all he'd ever done was a few private performances at Nurmengard, and so he doubted that she had ever heard of him.

'That might be fun,' Credence thought, lying back in the chair and opening his mouth. 'Having her listen to my music... I wonder if she would like it.'

His thoughts began to wander, thinking back on how he'd taught Vinda Rosier and MacDuff the proper dance moves before filming their video in the woods outside of Nurmengard. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself, letting the music wash away his cares, his Obscurus moving with him rather than against him, joining together in the sacred dance.

He remembered the music. Merlin, he loved writing and making music. He loved to spin and dance, the fabric of his robes flowing freely with each motion. It was how he found freedom, an escape from his affliction.

Without realizing it, his eyes began to close. If he listened carefully, Credence could hear the lyrics floating up from the recesses of his mind.

It was so easy to get lost in the music...

"Mr. Barebone?"

"Hmm...?" His eyes fluttered open, his cheek resting against his shoulder.

Karen was shaking her head, smiling in amusement. "You fell asleep, Mr. Barebone," she said, a faint chuckle chasing her words.

"I what...?" Credence blinked and looked around in confusion, his thoughts muddled. He could feel the warmth of his mother's blanket, so soft, so soothing and nice, and he proceeded to grasp the fabric with his left hand, snuggling the material and holding it against his cheek. "Am I done now?" he muttered sleepily. "Can I go home?"

"Not quite, Mr. Barebone," Karen said, and Credence sighed wearily in response. "Your mother informed us of your anxiety, so I thought it would be best if I let you sleep through the rest of your cleaning. That part is done, so I'll need you to rinse your mouth before we move on to the sealant application."

Credence groaned, sitting up straight and taking the paper cup she held out to him. He'd had more than enough of this experience, his muscles aching from nervous exhaustion and an overwhelming desire to sleep.

Admittedly he had difficulty staying awake even when he was at home on a normal day. 'Blame the parasite,' Credence thought, knowing how it drained the strength out of him and made him tired all the time. But this was not at all what he expected. It could, however, be used to make things easier for the tired Obscurial. And if they were alright with letting him sleep, then he would go right ahead and sleep. It's not like he could control when and where he fell asleep anyway.

The paper cup was set aside after he finished rinsing his mouth, his eyes beginning to close once more. Merlin, he wanted to go home. He hated this place. He didn't want to be here. He only wanted to go home, snuggle his pygmy puff and take a nap. Was that so much to ask?

Credence was dozing lightly when the sound of footsteps approached the chair, and suddenly his eyes opened wide. Terror slammed into his chest like a wrecking ball, his hands desperately reaching, grasping the blanket and pulling it up to his chin in a childish defensive mechanism.

"Y-you're..." Credence stammered, unable to force his words past the lump in his throat.

"Mr. Barebone, this is Dr. Carter," Karen said. "He will be performing the sealant application. He will also need to perform a final examination before we get started."

That was it, the final straw that pushed him over the edge. Coming face to face with an actual dentist caused everything to break inside of him at once. His breath caught in his throat, his heart lodged itself somewhere in the vicinity of his Adam's apple, gasping suddenly, before letting out a tremendous wail.

"I want to go home!" Credence cried, sniffling and sobbing into his mother's blanket. "I don't even want t-to be here! I'm s-scared... I'm scared and I want to go home!"

There was panic in his voice, his Obscurus rising up and thrashing against the inner walls of his stomach, its host shuddering and gasping, rapidly drawing air into his lungs.

He had to breathe. He had to maintain control. His arms wrapped tightly around his chest, the Obscurial grit his teeth and dug his fingernails into his arms, his entire body shaking, feeling ripples of movement beneath his skin.

He felt the rage of his Obscurus, he felt his own terror and the trickle of warm mucus that was dripping from his nose. Somewhere, a distant voice was telling him to breathe, take deep breaths in through his nose and... and... He couldn't even hear the rest. He wanted to scream.

But in the years he'd spent with Nagini, in the earliest days when they'd met at the circus, she had been helping him gain control of his Obscurus. She had taught him that the first and most important thing was to find something to focus his attention on, anything would do. Even if he was hyperventilating or had seized up and was unable to breathe, Credence would try to focus on the sound of her voice. He had to, he must. He couldn't allow himself to have another meltdown like he had in New York.

"You're going to be alright, but I need you to slow your breathing - "

"I don't... I don't want to - "

"It's okay, Mr. Barebone - "

"I don't want to be here! Please..."

He could hear her. He couldn't stop crying, but he could still hear her.

"I'm going to count to three. When I do, I want you to inhale to the count of three, then hold your breath until I start counting again."

"No, please... I can't."

"You can do this. Breathe, follow the count."

"I'm gonna throw up."

It took several minutes of gentle coaching before he was able to control his breathing. Once she had helped him reestablish a regular breathing pattern, Karen moved to sit beside him. She continued talking to him, handing him some tissues so he could blow his nose, all while gently reassuring him that everything was going to be alright.

Credence, meanwhile, had taken to muttering apologies, feeling mortified at his behavior. "I'm sorry," was all he could say, over and over between harsh, ragged breaths. And in the back of his mind he knew that he ought to be punished, his fingers twitching, inching towards his belt buckle before he stopped himself in time.

"Do you feel ready to continue?" Karen asked, always so patient with him.

"I guess," Credence whimpered, sniffling and wiping his streaming nose on one of the tissues she had given him. He'd somehow managed to soak three of them, and was well on his way to saturating a fifth before he was able to situate himself in the chair and allow the dentist to examine his teeth.

But why, he had to ask himself in his mind. Why did Dr. Carter need to look things over when the hygienist had already spent nearly an hour cleaning his teeth? Was he checking to see if she missed a spot? Or maybe -

"I'm seeing an area of concern," said Dr. Carter, lightly tapping one of Credence's wisdom teeth. "Tooth number seventeen appears to be impacted. The same can be said for sixteen as well. Though it looks to be more severe on the lower left quadrant."

"What?!" Credence blurted out, startled by the information he'd received.

Since when did he have impacted wisdom teeth? They honestly didn't look that bad. Though if he were being perfectly honest with himself, Credence couldn't really see his wisdom teeth that well. Especially not the ones on top.

The Obscurial gripped the armrest with one hand, tensing momentarily.

"Both of these teeth are vertically impacted," the dentist continued, carefully examining Credence's lower left wisdom tooth. "This kind of impaction rarely requires extraction because the tooth is positioned almost perfectly. Although, from the looks of it, your molars on all four quadrants have issues with crowding. I'm also seeing a misalignment of the lower incisors. I suspect your wisdom teeth are to blame for this. Now, you haven't been having any problems with them, have you, Mr. Barebone?"

A pause.

"Mr. Barebone?"

But Credence had fainted.