It had been forty-three days, and no one else seemed to even know it. Not since the battle, but since Caleb had closed the door and were it not for his own insanity he might never have opened it again. The cardinal sin had been committed, before Caleb had outdone even that with himself. He had been right. All those months ago. Prince Phobos ought to be dead, and Caleb meant all of him. It was a fool's fate, which Caleb had found himself living, because Phobos had even said it; had promised on more than one occasion that Caleb would bow, and Caleb was letting himself be the fool. He had been naive.. He had been judgemental.. And Caleb had been twisting his own perversion of life like a wet towel which was now dry. "I don't want to live anymore."

But no one was listening. Caleb was simply standing in front of a mirror in royal blue and far too much money, knowing full well that Will had known what she was doing, and now he was far too much of a coward to let Aldarn find him hanging from a rope. He had yelled at Will for it, and she wasn't even stupid enough to have done it. No, that wasn't what he meant, for Caleb found no desire, but merely a duty, in dying. It wasn't even life that was the problem. He didn't know what.. Caleb couldn't seem to find in his mind, the boundaries of which he had stopped caring for Will and had started caring for her, because he'd had forty-three days to realize that Will had spent the last eight weeks screaming.

And he hadn't even thought about it. He hadn't done anything. He had been far too busy thinking about nothing and himself, because he was an idiot. Aldarn had been right, and Caleb knew more throughly than even his own name that he had liked her from the beginning, but now he was only to spend his days behind a little girl he'd called a witch, plagued by her in the night. He was being told to move on. No one dared say it.

Cornelia wanted him to go home.

Aldarn tried not to say that he didn't want Caleb to.

And everyone else actually knew enough to have an opinion, which not one of them dared to say. Drake would say it first. Would have. But now Caleb had something, and he wanted nothing less than to lead the royal guard. He wanted to go home.

...

Agent Maria Medina had spent the better part of the day picking up photographs and the like, and Thomas Lair had not silenced quiet words of opinion until she had pointed to the blatant fact that the bed was now unmade. It had not been before, according to the first search. There were inconsistencies, and Agent Joel McTiennan knew that it could not be coincidence that the identities of a family were seemingly forged, though there was more than their newest, third member knew.

That the birth record sheets and the likes in City Hall of Heatherfield had been corrupted, in that the possibilities of concerns could have been more pressing than simple fraud. That the state of the bed and the room confirmed such possibilities. That there was a question of why the 'Brown's would have ran.. When no one had been chasing them.

Abduction was thought to be a simple thing, of kidnapping and the follows of that. But this was a professional job, if someone was trying to fake three people's non-existence. Why would they have ran? The fact was, that nothing would suggest that they would have.

...

"A test?" Dean Collins frowned as the scruffy redhead wiped a hand past the dark bags beneath her eyes, and he sighed at the already mournful look on her face as he wondered how long it must have been that Will Vandom had been here; an impression indented if only because he had never seen someone fall so hard. It was getting harder, for Professor Collins to ignore the thinner, paler girl, but there didn't seem to be any leeway - there seemed not to be a day that Susan would recite that the girl hadn't been screaming. And he knew for a fact, that Susan Vandom herself was finding ties and considering a second move, because it was getting harder not to be touchy about replying that life wasn't fair, and Collin's could easily see reason for worry, as the girl scowled into her rough school bag. "Oh, great, that just what I need, I didn't even study."

"I bet." Dean forced sheets of papers onto each desk; rustling through empty conversations and pushing past the guilt of warily eyeing Uriah Dunn, as fierce brown eyes shot to the lanky troublemaker, grinning presumptively. There were many boy that Dean had known to cause a riot, but the boy - who had been caught attempting to hot-wire Judge Cook's car two weeks ago before his latest visit as of following petty thievery - was the more worrying of them and Uriah at late seventeen, Collin's wondered if the boy's mother could have been less of a role model. "You were probably busy, riight?"

There was silence, then, and Collin's realized he had been staring when a student feebly tugged the paper from his hands and he had only stopped listening - had only looked away for a second. "YOU ASSHOLE!"

"Shit! Get her off of me!"