The Fairfields rose in the late hours of the morning (bordering on noon), except for Dwight who could be heard snoring from behind the spare room's door. Tension was high as the middle aged couple settled down at their kitchen table to start a hardy breakfast. Both had decided to call in sick to work in order to think on the gnawing subject that was Dwight's return. The emotional stress was killing them both.

"Wow. That boy has been sleeping for over 11 hours." Giving a long whistle he looked up at the ceiling.

"A little reminder that he probably hasn't even seen a bed in 2 years let alone slept on one." The cold claws of stress could be heard leaking into her voice. "Which brings us to our topic: What do we do?! We have to tell the cops about this! They know more about any of this than us." She only ended her rambling when she crammed a spoonful of Cherios into her mouth.

"Alright you get right on that and I'll...just..." Keith began to slowly slink away but halted at the harsh tone of his wife.

"No, Keith. You are staying right here while I call. Just because you aren't that close to him doesn't mean you can just abandon him in his time of need!"

"I wasn't abandoning him, I was just-" His words fell short as he realized that his wife wasn't paying attention to him or his excuses anymore but instead wolfed down the last of her cereal.

Chucking her bowl in the sink she sprinted out of the room returning to her seat with a wireless phone.

"Here we go." Swallowing her fear she dialled the number to the police station and tediously waited.

The receptionist picked up at the third ring.

"Ransslin Police Department."

"Hello, yes, I'd like to speak to Chief Wilcott about the Fairfield case."

An annoyance laced sigh was heard from the other side of the line. "Good morning, Sherry. For the last time, no I cannot do that. The department is trying their best but the case has run cold."

"No! No! Kate you don't understand!" Panic filled her as worries about being ignored filled her weary mind.

"The Chief has asked me to turn any more of your calls away. I'm sorry but you hold up the line." Some shuffling could be heard on the other side. "Good bye, Mrs. Fairfield."

"He's here!"

The abrupt yell stopped the secretary in her tracks. "E-excuse me?"

"He's alive, Kate. Dwight's upstairs right now. Now please patch me through to Chief Wilcott."

Without another word she did as Sherry asked and the Chief picked up the phone.

"Chief Wilcott speaking." His authoritive voice leaked through the landline and into her ear.

"Chief, we need to talk about Dwight Fairfield."

An angered grunt left the man's lips. "I thought I told Grant to stop sending your calls to me."

"Adam!...He's alive."

"Whu...he can't be..." Dumbstruck the chief was at a loss for words.

"He is. He's upstairs right now and I need help." She spit the last part out through her teeth trying to ignore the fact that the police weren't much help in the first place. After a year of tedious investigations which resulted in absolutely no leads the case was halted only to be buried among unsolvable and unimportant cases, being summed up as deceased. Her anger over their incompetence was still tugging at her mind which she had to gruelling put aside due to their experience in the concerned field.

"I'm-I'm sorry. The Boys and I will be right over." With that the call was ended leaving Sherry gripping the phone tightly.

'The Boys'-as Chief Wilcott lovingly called them- was the small investigation group that where placed at the rinky-dink station, very rarely having any work sent their way due to the size of the town. The group consisted of 5 people: Jones, McGaffery, Boyle, Jeffries, and Coulton; surprisingly all males. Being not only the oldest at the age of 52 but the leading investigator as well, McGaffery was a short man who tended to be too lax when it came to his work hours. He figured that since not much happened in Ransslin it gave him the privilege to play hooky and spend his day at the local bar until called upon. Sherry despised the man.

Arriving only a mere 15 minutes later the Fairfields opened their door to the stubbled face of Wilcott and his merry men grouped behind him. His light brown hair was neatly-albeit rushed-gelled to the side just missing the mole that was placed on his forehead.

"Mornin' folks. Is he..." He gestured toward the inside of the house seemingly finishing his question.

"He's upstairs." Keith solemnly replied, which was followed up by Sherry's pressing voice.

"Sleeping. He needs it." Her gaze passed by Wilcott landing on the old investigator behind him. McGaffery returned her stare with a slight nod of his head and a smug smile. Ignoring the gesture she got down to business, why they were here in the first place.

"Do come in."

The party flooded into the family room, McGaffery taking the first seat on the couch right where Dwight sat earlier. Sherry's eye twitched at the brute as the rest of 'The Boys' covered the entirety of the seat leaving the Fairfields and Chief Wilcott to stand. Serious conversations are better taken standing anyway, adds a flare of drama. The chief was the first to speak.

"So...how exactly did this happen." He retrieved a toothpick from his pocket and placed it between his awaiting teeth. Being an ex smoker the man never got rid of his habit of constantly chewing on the ends of his cigarettes making the wooden sticks a necessary substitute as to not fall back on bad habits.

"We found him on the porch at around 10:40 pm dressed in...in the same clothes that he was reported missing in." Mrs. Fairfield glanced to the couch where she spotted McGaffery taking out a note pad and pen, about to record the discussion. "He was covered in blood and dirt. I have no idea if it was his or somebody else's but...it just...broke me." She stifled a quiet sob as she relived one of the the most heartbreaking scenes in her life, second to being told by the department that his son was 'dead'.

"Do you still have the clothes?" Wilcott warily prodded the subject further already slightly off put.

"Yeah...yeah, they're upstairs in the bathroom. I couldn't bring myself to move them after he changed."

"Alright. Jones, grab those later for testing will ya?" Less of a question and more of a command, the man addressed gave a nod and continued to listen in on their conversation.

"Anything else?"

"We really didn't want to push him. He was really cautious and jumpy and avoided eye contact with us as much as possible." Saying these words seemed to physically hurt her in a way.

"We thought it would be best to let him relax and then answer questions today." Keith finally added his two cents to the discussion making Sherry a tad bit happier.

"Hmmmm." Wilcott's tone was unsettling to say the least. He stared at the floor as he contemplated his next few words. "Based on the information that you've provided-now I'm not saying for certain cuz there's still tests to run-but based on his reaction he may have been a victim of...sexual assault."

His opinion was accompanied by a lowed pained gasp from Sherry in which he attempted to explain himself further.

"Now we won't know for sure until we find some evidence or he actually tells us but it could possibly be what I said. Victims tend to be very paranoid and embarrassed due to it and even go as far as blaming themselves for the incident which we all know was not their fault. I'm not telling you this to cause you pain or rile you up, I'm telling you this to prepare yourselves and not push him too hard. It's for his benefit."

"Alright." Sherry nervous hummed out as she leaned her body into Keith's side.

"Jones! I want you to go out and fetch the large evidence bag and some latex gloves for the-"

The chief's voice was cut off by a loud panicked screeching echoing down from the top floor. Not even a second passed by when Mrs. Fairfield took off out of the room and up the stairs yelling her son's name, the rest of the group not far behind. Flinging the door opened she rushed in to see him tangled in the bed sheets flailing aimlessly with his eyes still closed. His body was drenched in sweat as he convulsed in harsh jerks of his limbs. His screams had only gotten louder when she opened the door to it's source.

"Dwight!"

Sherry flung herself on the bed trying to wake him up by shouting his name and grabbing his shoulders but he kept wiggling out and proceeding to claw at his left shoulder. The guests eventually arrived at the room with Keith at the head accompanying his wife at Dwight's bedside. The police department was still shock to actually see the young man after being reported missing for so long.

"He won't stop! He won't wake up!" Her panicked cries mixed with Dwight's harsh loud ones making her almost inaudible.

With determination in his eyes Mr. Fairfield crawled onto the bed and sat on top of his son's legs, holding him down and preventing him from slithering away. This increased the young man's panic even more as he attacked his left shoulder with a new found viciousness. Getting an iron grasp he gripped Dwight's shoulders and gave a hard quick shake.

"DWIGHT!"

Keith's yell topped that of even Dwight's as he awoke after one final startling screech, breathing heavily with tears in his eyes. His body shook as he stared his wide eyes at the even more frightening creature before him, his father. He shook in his grasp tears slowly trickling down his face yet he refused to move until he gave a harsh jerk when his father hugged him. Surprised and a bit scared at first Dwight slowly relaxed into his parent's arms closing his eyes once more, revealing in the warmth compared to the cold nightmare he was having. His mother sat next to him running her hands through his damp hair of which he nudged his head into the touch. She always knew how to go that extra mile to make him feel better.

During the commotion the investigative group, excluding Chief Wilcott, had retrieved the evidence bag and gloves and made their way to the bathroom to retrieve the 'tainted garments' as McGaffery referred to the clothes in question as. He wasn't into that feelings bull crap and left as soon as he saw that the issue was handled.

Unlike his underling, Wilcott had respect for the feelings of the families of victims and felt slightly uncomfortable being in the room during such a personal family moment but he had a job to do.

Keith let go of his son and shifted down the bed to let Sherry squeeze in beside them. Placing her hand gently on his leg she looked into his embarrassed puffy eyes and asked the curious question that stuck in her mind.

"Honey...can you let me look at your shoulder?" Her hand slowly raised up intended to lightly hold his shoulder but was rejected when he scooted away. After coughing a little harshly he stuttered his reply.

"I...uh...would greatly appreciate if...you didn't." Dwight once again avoided contact by staring at the tan carpet of the room.

"Dwight please-"

"Son, it would benefit us all, even you, if you did as your mother told you." Wilcott interjected Sherry's frivolous pleas. She was doing a wonderful job but the boy needed some authority if he was going to straighten himself out.

Dwight's head shot up and made direct eye contact with the Chief. He froze in place. There was a cop?! When did he get there? Was he always there? He really didn't want to deal with the truth let alone the cops. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn't he just crawl away and die? Stupid survival instincts.

With a nearly inaudible whimper Dwight turned back to his mother and gave a slight nod. With delicate precision he slowly pulled the black logoed tee over his head and held it in his lap. He stared at the shirt as he moved it around in his hands. His shoulder ached and he knew without a doubt that it looked worse than it did yesterday. He didn't have to see it, he could FEEL it. It throbbed sending waves of hurt throughout his body. Pushing the pain aside he realized that he felt vulnerable and weak as well as humiliated. He hated himself; such an utter pile of garbage.

Sherry took in her son's body before her. Though not as bad as the many injuries on his arms, his chest still had quite a few but what drew her attention the most was the large red and purple bruised scar just below his left collar bone. She gaped at the large wound surprise and worry etched into her features as she hovered her hand over it. Dwight didn't even flinch; he knew she wouldn't touch it.

"Oh, my baby!" Avoiding the injury she grabbed her son and wept on his shoulder. Keith just stood at a distance with an air of concern while Wilcott was growing evermore uncomfortable.

"How did-"

"Mom." He looked her directly in the eyes and she could see the horrible pain that was hidden behind those brown eyes. "Please...I-I can't talk about it." He squeaked out, feeling a lot smaller than he actually was.

"It's fine. It's completely fine." With a sniffle she nudged his shirt with her hand. "Go ahead. You can put it back on."

While blinded by the tedious process of putting his shirt on Mrs. Fairfield gave a sad glance to Chief Wilcott who gave a sorrowful nod. Re-clothed he began to fiddle with his thumbs trying to block out both his dream and the unpleasant event.

"Dwight. How about you ready yourself then come down for lunch. I have a few questions that I'd like to ask you." The young man gave Wilcott a tired hum keeping his attention focused on his hands.

The chief turned and exited the room followed by Mr. Fairfield who kept sparing glances at his son as he walked out into the hall. Mrs. Fairfield wasn't long after but not before she kissed her son's forehead and whispered an 'I love you'.

Once alone Dwight took a few minutes to collect himself and then started to cry.