Jean knocked on his friends' apartment door and stood. For the most part he wiped all of his tears off, but he knew his eyes were probably still red and some drying water would be plastered on his cheek bones. Oh well.

The door opened and revealed and confused looking, probably teenaged boy. He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth staring at him. Jean felt as if the boy was going to say something to him, but then he turned away and stared towards the inside of the house.

"Professor, Descole is here to see you." He boy called and Jean widened his eyes.

Descole? They know who I am? He bit his lower lip wondering what would happen next and how long they'd known. How long he'd looked like a jackass.

"What?" Professor Layton asked standing up from the couch and walking over to the door. When he saw Jean's hurt face and smiled and sympathetically and then looked at the boy in a scolding manner. "Luke, my boy, this is my childhood friend Cisi."

Luke stared at the brunette incredulously and then snickered. "Cisi?"

"Yes, Cisi, now don't laugh, he's hurt. Can you do us a favor, my boy, and make us some tea?"

Luke, still looking suspicious at the depressed and panicked man, agreed and then walked out to get them tea.

"Come inside." Hershel placed his arm around his friend and walked him to the couch. He sat him down and when he saw more tears begin to fall down his cheeks, he handed him a tissue and cocked his head to the side, lightly. "There, there, now tell me. What happened?"

Jean shook his head and bit his bottom lip. Then he wiped his tears once more and went on. "These...these flashbacks." He mumbled and sighed outwards. "They keep coming back."

"What flashbacks? About your stepfather?" Hershel handed him more of the tissues.

The brunette bit his bottom lip and shook his head again but more vigorously. As if to try and shield himself from answering more questions. He wanted so bad to tell him everything but it scared him too much to admit it. It's not every child that gets molested by his stepfather or beat and starved constantly. How could he explain that to someone? Even someone like Hershel, who had guessed all these years that his stepfather was behind the abuse, but not known to the full extent what had happened. He couldn't let him know.

Hershel heard him let out a small sobbing noise, as if he was holding back his grief, and he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Francis. We've been friends forever." He paused and waited for a reply. When none came, he continued. "You can tell me anything."

Jean shook his head wiping his tears away with a tissue. The crying had to stop. He didn't need it anymore. He wasn't sad anymore. It didn't matter. As soon as he gathered his emotions and stopped crying, he knew that he could explain. "You know, I've always had these flashbacks." He started. "These flashbacks that come, usually only while I'm dreaming, and it'll only be one night every half a year. Then I won't think about it anymore. But now," His voice dropped to a whisper as he heard Luke walk through the door with a tray of tea cups. "They won't fucking go away."

"No need to swear." Hershel muttered trying to shield the young boy's ears. "What are they?"

Jean shook his head. "Nothing." He watched Luke take a tea cup and walk back into the kitchen, out of ear shot. "They're nothing, it's not worth it. Never mind, let's not talk about it."

Hershel looked worried. "Cisi, if they're bothering you, it's worth talking about. I won't tell anyone."

"Heeerrrrsheeel!" They heard the singsong voice walking down from the stairs. Looking up, they saw a familiar ginger man waltzing down with a smile on his face.

"Lando's here?" Descole asked irritated.

"Against everyone's will." He answered.

Lando laughed and nodded at the sight of the depressed brunette. "Oh abused boy is here? What's up? How's your apples?" He joked and stood in front of both of them.

"Lando this isn't the time." Hershel mumbled.

"Heh, it's always the time. What's up? Still seventy-eight pounds, I see." He let out a snicker.

"Stop making fun of him."

"What? That's what our friendship is based on. Making fun of Cisi." He laughed and looked back at him. "What's wrong? Did your boyfriend break up with you? Oh wait, which one?" He laughed again.

"I do not have the patience for this." Jean mumbled and licked his lips, looking at the floor agitated.

Lando laughed and then sat next to him. "No, I'm kidding. Seriously though, what happened?" His mood shifted to a slightly more sympathetic one as he wanted to know what was happening.

But Jean Descole wasn't about to tell him anything. He didn't trust Lando and he knew he would just take every word and mangle it into something more horrible and mean. "Nothing." He answered and licked his lips. "I should be going."

"Cisi." Hershel placed a hand on his knee to stall him from standing. "Listen, I think you should see someone about these nightmares." He sighed outward, hoping Lando would say nothing. He didn't pause just in case he got a word in. "They're not healthy and obviously, they're torturing you. You're not getting sleep, or eating and not to mention you're relying on sex to make everything better by having multiple partners. It's not healthy."

"Nightmares?" Lando raised an eyebrow and half smiled. "You're crying over a bad dream?" He snickered coldly and watched his childhood friend stand up.

Jean bit his bottom lip and began storming towards the door. He couldn't believe how insensitive Lando was. He was always that way. He had never relied on Lando for emotion support though, but when he gets in the way of his help with Hershel, that's when he can't take it.

"C'mon Ceese, I didn't mean it!" He called as he heard his friend open the door.

Descole turned back and shook his head. "Go to hell, you prick." He slammed the door shut and ran to his car.

He was all alone. He felt like he was twelve again. All alone and being raped and abused by his stepfather. It was happening all over again but with a new cast of people. And slightly different circumstances. He couldn't imagine the idea of going through that again and it pained him to think he was going to have to endure by himself. At least before he had Simon.

Simon. His little half-brother. His stepfather's child. He almost forgot about his younger brother, since he hadn't seen him since he was about fourteen and his baby brother was eight. When his mother divorced that man, he took custody of his best friend, his little brother. Of course at least then, he had someone to talk to after his chores were done and after his abuse. Simon never got hurt as bad as himself, though. He was so thankful for that. Simon would only ever get maybe a slap across the face, or a long and verbally abusive lecture. Nothing like what he went through.

Of course, since he hadn't seen him in so long, he began to worry that maybe after all these years his poor baby brother did get the punishment he got. Since his stepfathers punching bag was back in England and he was in France, who knows if he began to take his anger out on his own son the way he did to himself.

He shut the car door and started the car. When he began driving away his eyes welled up again. Where was Simon? How has his little brother not even thought to go find him? Sure he and his mother had tried to track down them, but he had gone into hiding so severely they never got farther then France. And who knows if they moved by now? Was Simon okay? Did he get out of that house, considering he'd be far above age? Did he get sexually abused too? Did Jerome kill him?

He shook his head at his own thoughts and turned the radio on. He couldn't think of that. He needed to stop. He liked the idea that his little brother had got away, married some French girl and decided to move to Ireland or Scotland. That was his idea fantasy for his baby brother.

His mind went blank finally as he began to drive on autopilot and zone into the music. He drove to his house and parked quickly. He wiped away his tears and regained his cool appearance. Alexander would be waiting for him.

He walked up to the house and opened the door. After closing it, he called, "I'm back," so no one outside would hear him. His sexual identity would remain a secret to the outside world.

"I was wondering when you'd get home." Alexander said sitting in the Family Room with a cup of black tea. "I made some tea, and dinner's in the fridge."

"I ate already, I'll eat it tomorrow." He sat down next to the brown haired man and kissed his lips. "I missed you." He mumbled and began fiddling with the bottom of his hair.

Alexander giggled and set his tea down. "Olivier," he muttered and placed his hands Descole's waist. "I missed you too." He moved his head towards him and kissed him again.

Jean kept their lips locked in an even more passionate kiss. Anything to make him forget his troubles. That's why he loved sex, it was such a good escape. He didn't have to think about anything else but pleasure and he needed that.

Of course, that was short lived when Alexander pulled away. "Wait," he started and placed a hand on his cheek. "Can't we talk?"

Jean sat erect but moved himself still close to his partner. He wouldn't know what he would say, but he'd play along. It would only be moments before he could get out of reality again. "Of course, you can talk to me about anything." Well almost, he thought to himself.

"Well that's just it." Alexander mumbled and shook his head. "We've been doing this for three months." He started and sighed taking Descole's hand. "I've been practically halfway moved in since the first month. I have keys to your place. I mean…" His voice trailed off as he realized he wasn't sure what to say.

Descole felt his breathing get heavy. He had no idea where he was going with this. It could be one way or the other. Let's get married or let's break up. Either way, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle either of the stresses of the possible situations. "You mean what?" He asked, the sympathy in his voice fading.

Alexander's hazel eyes moved downwards as he let go of his partner's hand. He shook his head and continued. "Where are we going?" He mumbled. "I mean, romantically, what are we?"

Jean licked his lips and looked downward. Well considering you think my name is Olivier and I've got another boyfriend on the other side of town, that's a good question, his mind raced. What could he say? Why couldn't he just keep him company and have sex with him? Fuck buddies. "I don't know." He answered truthfully looking at his hands.

Alexander nodded and looked away. "You don't seem to be interested in me at all…" he let out still looking away.

Oh shit. How could he fix this one? He grabbed the brunette's hand and held it lovingly, getting his visual attention. "How could you say that?" He asked and kissed his hand lightly. "I wouldn't let you be living here if I wasn't interested in you. I've had bad relationships, that's just sex and nothing else. I wouldn't let them live with me, or sit on my couch with me. Or make dinner with me." He noticed a small smile on Alexander's face and he kissed his lips. "Our relationship is still young. We still have so much to learn about each other."

Alexander smiled and nodded. "I guess that's one way to look at it." He mumbled and looked down.

Jean lifted his chin and kissed his lips again. He then pulled away with a half-smile. "Now, are you going to let me have sex with my interesting and sweet boyfriend whom I haven't seen in forever?" Alexander said nothing and Jean decided to kiss him more.

While locked at the lips, Descole began leaning towards the man's frame, almost lying on him and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. At least he didn't say he loved him, he thought as he undid the last button. He wouldn't know what to say if he had said that. It was all too much stress. He placed a hand on the man's chest and moved his lips to his neck.

Alexander giggled and placed his hands in his partner's hair but moved him away. He stood both of them up and walked them to the bedroom, as not to soil the couch. Though Jean seemed not to care, for they did their business and nearly fell asleep right after, still entangled in each other.

"Wake up, Olivier." Descole woke to a kiss on his lips. He smiled and placed his arms around the clothed and dressed man's shoulders. "I've got to go to work, I wanted to say goodbye first."

Descole smiled and kissed him again. "Goodbye." He greeted and watched him walk out. And like that, he was alone.

He remained in the bed staring at the ceiling and he couldn't help but keep thinking. All of his anxiety was brought on by his racing thoughts, but he couldn't push it out of his mind. He kept thinking of his baby brother. He hadn't brought up Simon in forever. Mostly because it was a sore subject, for his whole family, even his recent stepfather who never knew the boy was upset that he wasn't with them and he was with that evil man.

Simon. He needed to get in contact with him. Or if he was dead, he needed to know what happened and where he was. He just needed to know what happened to his baby brother that looked up to him so.

He stood up and quickly bathed and changed his clothes, but purposefully made no internal plans to do anything. He couldn't fathom the idea.

He walked out to the family room and stood in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He stared at the phone, wondering who to call. Well, less the wondering, he wondered if he should, in fact, call who he wanted to. He couldn't understand why he shouldn't, he needed to know the truth, but would it cause too many problems? Well, even if it did, it's only a phone call. What harm could it do?

He sipped his coffee and picked up the phone. He dialed the familiar number and pressed the receiver to his face, waiting for a response.

Finally a man's voice answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Charles." Jean responded to his stepfather. This was the man that his mother married a couple of years after his horrible stepfather got kicked to the curb. Despite the man's blatant attempts to get on his good side for his whole mother's courtship and marriage, Descole couldn't help but like the guy. He was actually a good man, and he was okay with him.

"Oh, Francis." His voice seemed to perk up. "I haven't spoken to you in, well what seems like a lifetime. How are you, son?"

"I'm okay." He said truthfully. He felt okay talking to someone familiar. "How are you guys?"

"We're good." He answered. There was a pause and then a sigh. "Your mother and I miss you." He let out and then snickered. "I know that's cheesy, but it's true. You've been away from home for too long."

Jean sighed and licked his lips. "Yeah, I miss you guys too." He laughed and shook his head. "So, um,"

"What have you been up to lately?" Charles interrupted.

"Oh," he started and sighed again. "I'm trying out for Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty." Oh damn, he'd have to practice. That was another thing on his plate.

"Oh, that's the ballet thing, right?" Charles didn't know anything about ballet before he married Descole's mother, but he always tried his best to understand. Jean liked that. "Is that one I've seen you in?"

Descole looked down trying to think. "Nope, not yet. I'll tell you if I make it, and I'll give you guys' dates."

"What do you mean if?" Charles let out a laugh. "You're the best little dancer I know."

"Thanks Dad, but I'm not a teenager anymore. I'm not cute anymore." Jean laughed.

Charles let out a laugh. "I'm always going to remember that first time I went to your ballet. You were sixteen and I didn't know anything about you or ballet, but I was so proud of you anyway. And worried that your mother was one of those crazy performing mom's that push their children too far. But I'm glad she's not and you just like to dance."

He did like to dance. A long while ago. But he wasn't about to let his family know that. "Well thanks, Dad."

"Of course, son." He laughed.

"Can I talk to mom?"

"Sure, here she is." And just like that the voice switched. "Hi sweetie." Which came from his mother.

Jean smiled at his mom's voice. He loved her so much. She was a selfless, sweet, beautiful woman that always only did everything in her best interest for him. Which is something he had discovered early on, so he always did his best to make sure he was content with everything. Which is why he never said anything about Jerome. "Hi, Mom."

"What ballet are you going to be in? I heard you and Charles talking."

Jean snickered at his mom. He loved how much she cared about him. She even cared for his wellbeing so much by calling the man he considered his father only "Charles" to him. No "your father" or "your dad" only Charles. Even though Descole had gotten used to calling him dad. He loved him. But she cared too much for his feelings which is why he never said anything. "Well, I'm trying out for Sleeping Beauty."

"Oh that's great, baby!" There was a pause before she went on. "You'll make it, I know it. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom." He sighed. "Listen, I have something I need to ask you."

"What's wrong, baby? Are you okay?"

"What? Oh yeah." Her questions confused him far too much. For a second he thought she'd known about the nightmares and his problems, but he realized that would be highly improbable. "No, I just…I want to ask you about Simon."

There was a slight pause. "Sure, baby. What do you need to know?"

"I want to get ahold of him."

"You know I can't help you there?"

"At all?" There was a pause. Jean sighed. "Mom, you must have something. A phone number, something?"

She said nothing. Jean knew she knew something she wasn't telling him. And that hurt more than any of the other pain he'd felt in the in last few days.

"Mom. You need to tell me." He felt a lump in his throat. The kind that would quickly turn to tears. She couldn't have lied to him all these years, could she? She wasn't capable of that. "Mom. Tell me."

"I am not putting you in harm's way by giving you to that man."

You don't even know what he did to me, he thought. She didn't know anything about the sexual abuse. All she knew was he beat him and that was all he was going to let her know. "Mom, I'm an adult. And if you know where my brother is, your son is, I'd really, really like it if you'd tell me." He did his best to keep his calm demeanor. It was slowly fading.

"Fine. Fine, but if you end up at his house and he's beating you with a belt…"

"I'm an adult."

"He lived in France. The last address I got was a couple of years ago, and I don't think Simon has left. He lived in Paris in the apartments by the Guinevere Church."

"Thank you." He tried to think of the best way to end the conversation without either of them sounding too sour, which they both had.

"I don't know if you're going to find either one of them. But if you find Jerome, stay away.

"Mom, I am an adult." And the sour was back.

"Fine, don't take my advice into account."

"It's not…okay whatever. I've got to get a train ticket to Paris. Goodbye."

"Bring Simon back." Jean heard after a short pause. His heart lightly sunk.

"I'll do my best."

"Bye."

"Bye." Jean hung up the phone and shook his head. He had to go to Paris. That was the only option he had. Find his brother, and maybe some of these guilty nightmares will subside. Maybe Simon would be there and be able to repent for everything that had happened to them. Maybe he'd have a reason for what his father had done to the both of them.

Descole walked into his room and took a small brief case. He filled it with only one change of clothes and walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the phone again and called another familiar number.

"Hello?" Hershel's voice sounded on the other side.

"I'm going to Paris. I think my little brother is there."

"What? When?" Hershel's voice was confused but slightly hushed. The boy must've been near.

Jean sighed. "Today. I'm going to the train and getting a ticket."

There was a pause. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I think you know."

"I'll be packed and ready to go in a half an hour. Expect two more guests."

Descole sighed away from the receiver but responded. "I'll be there to pick you up."

"See you then."

He hung up the phone and got in his car. Why was he bringing them? He couldn't remember his rational reasoning. Actually, he figured there wasn't any rational reasoning. All completely emotional, which, as a scientist, he learned to disregard most emotions. How annoying.

He was a dependent person and he knew it. Sure he didn't like to admit it, but he knew right from the start, he wasn't going to travel to another country by himself even if it was right next door. Oh well, at least he had someone to talk to.