Chapter Three.

The second he opened his eyes he wished he hadn't.

The room was brighter than he'd thought it would be, the intensity of the sunlight assaulting his bleary eyes and coursing into his skull, mixing with the whistling in his ears, the tingling of his skin and the stale taste in his mouth until he felt that his every sense was under attack. It took him a little while to realise that the whistling sound was more like a humming, and coming from within the building itself. What was that?

Chancing it a second time he again slid open an eyelid, more cautiously this time, allowing his system to adapt to the beams flowing in through the thin and battered curtains. He paused. Curtains? Where the hell was he? Who the hell –

Forcing himself more clearly awake, he used the growing strength in his arms to push himself upright, glancing around the room with freshening eyes. It was a barren affair of wooden walls and flooring, scattered with the occasional piece of furniture and two tattered posters pinned to the sloped ceiling; one of Jesus on the cross staring down at him with a curiously intent expression, and the other a cartoon of what looked like a farming family, standing before a little white house, silhouetted by a dazzling sunrise and adorned with the words, 'Family Comes First.'

Sitting forward a little more, he started as something cold brushed against his chest, reaching down to look at a small silver pendent hanging around his neck. The humming intensified. It was a cross, the horizontal arm inscribed 'Jacob Whittaker.' He frowned, who was Jacob, and, for that matter, who was he? Was…he faltered slightly, unsure of what to make of the blank spaces in his mind…was that him? Was he Jacob? The sound of approaching footsteps abruptly ended any queries he had, as instead he turned towards the door, heart thumping loudly as it creaked open on its hinges, followed by a gasp.

"Oh thank the Good Lord, Jacob, you're awake!"

He blinked. So…he was Jacob? Why could he not remember? Looking up slowly, he took in the woman before him, thin, crowned by a head of flyaway grey hair and staring at him with a gentleness that didn't quite match her hard blue eyes. In front of her she clutched a tea tray, which she quickly put down on the chest at the end of the bed as she hurried to his side.

"I - ," faltering slightly, he flinched as she leant in close, running a hand through his hair, smiling down at him indulgently and cutting him off before he'd even got started.

"Ssssh now, mama's here. Don't you go wearing yourself out, you had a nasty fall remember?"

He frowned, confused all over again, strangely soothed by the motion of her fingers caressing his hair.

"I – I did?"

"Oh my yes. My heart clean turned over when I saw you!"

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Nearly two days now. Thank goodness your brother and the Good Lord were looking out for you."

"Brother?"

As if on cue, another figure stepped into the doorway, tall, lanky and half-hidden under thick ginger curls dark with grease.

"Isaac," the woman turned to him, holding out a hand. Childlike the man stepped towards it, catching it in his and letting her pull him towards the bed, a smile forming under a thin moustache. His mother smiled warmly, "My two men. So handsome. Such good boys."

"Such good boys," repeated Isaac with a grin of infatuation. Cupping his face with her hands, Belle took another long look at him, her eyes shining with emotion,

"Don't you worry none Jacob," she told him gently, brushing the hair from his face, "We won't let anything happen to you ever again."

He believed her. Why wouldn't he?

"Yes mother."

"Good boy," she soothed, "Sleep more now, and you wake up, it will all be clear again."

He did as told, letting her push him back into the covers as his eyes began to slowly close once more. Exhaustion taking over.

"Sleep my boy," she whispered over him, white teeth shining down, "Sleep."

The silence that followed lasted as long as it took Belle to be sure that he was out again.

"We got him back again Isaac," she whispered, never taking her eyes from the sleeping face in front of her, "My Jacob. He's back."

"Think this one's going to last?" came the uncertain voice behind her, earning himself a sudden and ferocious slap that sent him reeling.

"Hold your tongue!" she snapped, before softening and turning to rub at the pendent with her thumb, "This one's a good boy. 'Sides, he's wearing the chain now, he won't remember a thing."

"But them others - ,"

"The others weren't right!" Belle interrupted hotly, "This time we got it right, you'll see. You get rid of his stuff?"

"Yes ma," Isaac nodded, still feeling the sting in his cheek, "I dumped it outside town. In a ditch. No one's going to go looking for it there."

"Good boy," she said, standing, "In that case I think we need to go into town. We've got three mouths to feed now, we're going to need to spoil him a little, show him how good we are. Start up the truck."

Isaac blinked.

"We leaving him here?"

Turning to her son with a smile so feral it made even him shudder, Belle lent close, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger and leaning in to whisper into his ear.

"He's not going anywhere."