Hello Everyone! Thank you so much for your replies! I really appreciate them. I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to post this, but I just moved and it took me a while to get my computer set up! I hope that you like this chapter!

Snowie

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just borrowing!

Chapter Two:
*~*Spreading the News*~*

"What's going on Paul?" Sheriff Andrews asked as they followed the ambulance out of the bank parking lot.

Paul sighed. "I'm not really sure," he said. "Well, I'm sure about a few things. I'm sure that kid took a bullet for me. I'm sure that he hates that woman...Mama Sal he called her, more then words could possibly describe."

"Wait, he was with them!?"

"Yes," Paul said. "With them, but not by choice. Six years he said. I can't imagine what kind of nightmare it was… God, just today he was slapped, knocked cold by a rifle butt and shot. I can't imagine what he endured during six years with that woman!"

"Paul..." The sheriff said, having a hard time coming up with just what Paul was trying to tell him.

Paul sighed. "I know, I'm jumping, I'm rambling and I'm not helping. What I was able to gather was that he'd been with them for six years. He hates them. There was a man who had orders to shoot him if he tried to leave. I wouldn't be surprised if he was kept in a locked room wherever 'home' is."

"You think he was kidnapped," Sheriff Andrews stated.

Paul nodded. "I do. He said something else, Dad. His father's a sheriff."

"What!?" Sheriff Andrews, that fact throwing his mind into a whirl. "Wait, what did he say his name was?"

"Pacey," Paul said looking at he father with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Pacey," Sheriff Andrews said softly. "Pacey." There had been so many missing person's over the years, but there had been one that had especially struck a cord with him. The plea that had been faxed to every police station in New England. The plea for the safe return of a son by a father who blamed himself for his child disappearance. A Sheriff in Massachusetts. But what was the kid's name? "What was his name!?" Sheriff Andrews muttered.

"Dad?" Paul questioned.

Sheriff Andrews shook his head. "I'll make some calls when we get to the hospital." Paul nodded.

They pulled into the hospital parking lot and Paul jumped out of the car and hurried into the building. His father sat in the car and reached for his radio.

"Jimmy? This is Sheriff Andrews."

"Yeah Boss?"

"Do me a favor and look through the old missing person's folder. The one that we put all those faxes in. See if you can find the one that was sent out by a Sheriff in Massachusetts about his son."

"Will do," Jimmy said. "What should I do when I find it?"

"Send it down to the hospital. I'll be in the ER waiting room."

"Paul okay?" Jimmy asked, concerned.

"He's fine, but we have a kid with a bullet in him. He saved Paul's life."

"I'll get right on it."

"Thanks Jimmy."

"No problem."

*~*INSIDE*~*

Sheriff Andrews was by his son's side in the waiting room when one of his deputies entered and looked around for him. "I'll be right back son."

Paul nodded, his eyes following his father as he approached the deputy and began to speak to him.

"What have you got for me Joe?"

"A Sheriff's son by the name of Pacey Witter was taken from his hometown of Capeside Massachusetts on January 21st 1994. He was eleven years old."

"Well, I'll be damned!" The Sheriff exclaimed. "Any identifying marks?"

"A birthmark on his shoulder...and his father had him fingerprinted when he was five. A safety precaution."

"That's it! You bring a kit?" The deputy nodded and handed the sheriff what he would need in order to get fingerprints. "Give me a few minutes and I'll have some prints for you to check. If they're a match let me know immediately."

He walked back over to Paul. "What's up Dad?" Paul asked.

"We have a possible match."

"Already?" Paul asked in amazement.

"Paul, every police officer on the east coast looked for this boy. It hit a chord with us. I mean, it could have been you. I know that I've made plenty of very bad people angry in my lifetime..."

"Dad..."

"I couldn't remember the name, so I had Jimmy check out the files. There are prints on file so we can be sure, but if we're right, then his name is Pacey Witter, seventeen years old, taken from Capeside Massachusetts on January 21, 1994 at the age of eleven."

"You need to get his prints?"

"I think that it would be the best way to be certain."

"Then now would be the best time to do it. He just got out of surgery. He won't be waking up for a while."

"Come with me. I'll do it now."

Paul nodded and the two headed towards Pacey's room.

*~*A Few Hours Later*~*

Pacey woke slowly, blinking as the hospital lights assaulted his eyes. He tested his body bit by bit and discovered that while he had pain here and there, the worst by far was in his shoulder. Also, there was something strange on his hands. He looked down at his fingers, his eyebrows drawing together in puzzlement at the ink on his fingers.

"We're trying to verify who you are," Paul said.

Pacey looked up in surprise. He hadn't realized that anyone was there. "And who do you think I am?"

"Pacey Witter," Pacey closed his eyes at the shock of hearing his full name for the first time in six years. "What?" Paul said, noticing his reaction.

"I just haven't been called that in so long..." Pacey said softly. "When they first took me, I used to sit in my room and just scream it. Pacey Witter! My name is Pacey Witter!"

"Hoping that someone would hear you?"

Pacey shook his head. "There was no one to hear...I just didn't want to forget. They tried so hard to make me forget. So hard, but I wouldn't let them. After a while I stopped screaming. It only made things worse. But I didn't forget. I would never let myself forget."

They looked up as Sheriff Andrews knocked on the door and stuck his head in. "I'll be right back Pacey," Paul said going to the door to talk to his father. Pacey watched as they went into the hall and sighed, closing his eyes. It was finally beginning to hit him. He was actually free. He was sure that he would soon be going home...and he had never been so scared in his life.

"It's a match?" Paul questioned.

Sheriff Andrews nodded. "I'm going to call his father soon, I just wanted to let you know first. You going to be here for a while?"

Paul nodded. "I'm worried about him. The kid we're seeing right now...I don't think that this is the only facet of his personality."

The sheriff nodded. "I don't imagine that it is. He hasn't shown any sign of anger yet and that's bound to come."

"Let me know what happens with his father, okay?"

Sheriff Andrews nodded. "I'll see you soon."

"Bye dad."

Sheriff Andrews watched as his son reentered Pacey's hospital room and then went to find a payphone.

*~*Capeside*~*

"Doug?" Sheriff Witter said, approaching his son's desk.

"Yeah Dad?" Doug said, looking up from his paperwork.

"Have you seen that file on Cooper?"

Doug sifted through the files on his desk and finding the right one, handed it to his father. "Here you go. James Cooper."

"Thanks." Sheriff Witter took the file and returned to his office, shutting the door behind him. He sat down at his desk and rubbed his eyes tiredly. It had been a long day. The phone rang and he reached for it with a sigh. There had been no peace all day.

"Sheriff Witter here," he said rather gruffly.

"Hello," The man on the other end of the line said. "This is Sheriff Derek Andrews, Penobscot County, Maine." Derek took a deep breath. "I have some news for you."

"Yes?" Sheriff Witter said.

Derek took another deep breath, and began telling Sheriff Witter everything that he knew about the boy he had only just met, knowing that the man on the other end would need as much proof as possible. "We arrested a group of anti-capitalistic Militants today. With them was a boy. Seventeen years old. Brown hair, blue eyes," Sheriff Witter began to sit up straighter in his seat as the man continued his description. "Said his name was Pacey." Sheriff Witter felt his heart stop but he needed more than that. He couldn't hope unless... "I remembered your fax, so I decided to check it out. I took his prints and compared them to your son's... Sheriff, they're a match."

"It's him? You're sure?" Mr. Witter's voice sounded breathless to his own ears. He couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

"I had someone fax you the match. It should be there now."

"Just a minute," Sheriff Witter said. He dropped the phone and ran over to the fax machine, picking up the paper that had come through minutes before. It was a match. His son was really alive.

"Dad?" Doug questioned, startled at his father's frantic behavior. Sheriff Witter ignored him and hurried back into his office.

He picked up the phone and spoke into it desperately. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"He's at Eastern Maine Medical Center."

"What!?"

"He's going to be fine," Derek assured him immediately.

"Where exactly are you?"

"Bangor, Maine."

"Bangor Maine. Eastern Maine Medical Center?"

"That's right."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Then I'll see you at the hospital. Ask for Derek Andrews at the desk."

"Will do."

"Goodbye Sheriff Witter."

"Goodbye, and thank you."

"Your welcome," Derek said softly before hanging up the phone.

Sheriff Witter hurried to his office door. "Dougie!" He called, waving his son over. "Get in here."

Doug looked at his father in surprise and hurried into the office. "What's wrong?"

"Sit!" Sheriff Witter said, shutting the door behind them. Doug sat and Sheriff Witter sat across from him. "Doug, I need you to do some stuff for me."

"What?"

"I need you to stay here tonight. I know you have the night off..."

"Tamara and I were planning on dinner," Doug said, looking at his father with puzzlement.

"She'll understand," Sheriff Witter said. "I just got a call from a Sheriff in Maine. He sent me these." He handed Doug the fax.

Doug looked at it, his eyes opening wide. "But this..." He looked at his father, amazement shining on his face. "Dad..."

"He's alive Dougie. Your brother's alive and I have to go, so you see..."

Doug shook his head. "No problem Dad. What do you need me to do?"

"Call Logan. Get the earliest possible flight to Bangor for your mother and me. Call the girls. And I want you here in case I need to get in touch with you. I'm going to try and get him transferred to Capeside Memorial..." Doug's head snapped up. "The Sheriff said he was going to be fine. I don't know what happened."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know," Sheriff Witter said softly. "I didn't ask. There will be time for that when we get there."

Doug nodded. "I'll call the airport now," he said. "Tell him..." He stopped shaking his head. "Never mind. I'll tell him myself."

Sheriff Witter nodded and got to his feet, grabbing his jacket. "I'm headed home to tell your mother. I'll call you from there."

Doug nodded and watched his father leave, unable to believe that any of this was happening. He picked up his father's phone and dialed information. "Hello. I need the number for Logan International Airport. Thank you." Doug shut his eyes for a moment as he was connected to the airport. His brother was alive. It was hard to comprehend.

"I wonder what your life's been like, little brother," he whispered softly, feeling a sudden pain in his chest over what might have been. The time they all should have had together. "We'll make it up to you Pace. Somehow, we'll make everything okay again."