Demi: a quick update, cos i'm rather pleased about how this fic is getting on its feet again -grins- thanks for your reviews last chapter. My BETA tester has returned (hah, she couldn't stay away from me for long!) so this has gained the Phoenix Seal Of Approval from Phoenixandashes
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"I need to talk to you… it's about Oliver."
Enrique let out a shuddering breath - the one he had been holding in - and turned his face to gaze at the entrance to the suite through his open bedroom doorway, blue eyes distance and drowning in themselves from the tears of misery.
Another knock. "Please, Enrique…"
Enrique stood slowly, and moved over to the front door. Upon reaching the solid oak, he reached out with a shaky hand to grip the lock handle. Hesitantly, he opened the door…
"Winter…"
The other boy looked just as lost as the blonde. "C…Can I come in…?"
Enrique paused before shaking his head to uncloud his mind. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. Not with it at the moment."
Winter passed by him and entered the big hotel suite, letting Enrique guide him over to a couch.
"It's nice."
"What is?"
"Your room - it's very grand. My family could never afford such a room."
'Yes they could… if you knew who your real family was…'"You said you needed to speak to me… about Oliver."
Winter took in a deep breath. "I overheard what my father was talking about…"
Baby blue eyes widened.
"Is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"Am I… Oliver Polanski?" Winter fixed him with a pleading look. "And be honest, please."
The Italian swallowed hard. "…Y-yes… you are Oliver… everything your… father said was true."
Winter sat quietly, purple eyes on the carpeted floor, fingers laced with one another to stop them shaking and skin pale.
He shut his eyes slowly. "So I've lived a lie for a year…"
"No… well, yeah, but…" Enrique laid a hand on Winter's shoulder.
"Why… didn't they t-tell me?"
"Many reasons, Winter." The blonde whispered. "But… things'll work out."
"I always felt like there was something more to me – something hidden inside my soul, even." The boy continued and standing up, walking a few steps away. "It felt like something was wrong with me… that I was someone different… no, that there was another side to me…"
"Even before the fire, you were someone different." Enrique replied, also standing. "Oliver was someone very unique – you're very unique."
"Not me – I'm not unique! I'm not Oliver!" Winter whirled around. "Oliver died."
"No – Oliver is still alive." The Italian protested, grabbing the small wrist tightly. "He's still in there – I can tell."
Purple and blue connected, nothing else happening outside to them…
"Let go…" Enrique whispered softly. "But stay with me."
Winter frowned, but carried on returning the stare. "How?"
"Think about…" Enrique stopped. "Remember how much we used to share and how close we were… remember how Robert helped Tyson all those years ago… remember how annoying Johnny is twenty-four-seven…"
"Mon Dieu…" Winter whispered, accent suddenly very familiar.
Enrique tried to suppress a smile. "Oliver…?"
"I think so…" The boy whispered, before blacking out.
Enrique managed to catch the falling boy and ease him onto the couch. His heart thudded against his rib cage. He slumped into the armchair and rubbed his eyes with shaking hands…
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"What do you mean, 'He's gone'?" Friday shrieked.
"He means that Winter's not in his room, idiot." Chelsea retorted. "But how could he get out?"
"The window might just be open…" Radolf mumbled.
"Oh great…"
"But why would he go?" Johnny asked. "Unless he heard…"
"Oh fuck…"
"Chelsea, language." Martin said reflexively. "We cannot delay – we have to find him."
"Where would he normally go?"
"Uhm… the park… a coffee bar… I dunno!" Friday cried.
"Calm down, please." Robert said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Mr Thomas is right – we have to split up and search for him. If he did indeed hear about his true identity, he will feel lost and lied to." The Noble turned to Johnny. "Go to Enrique – see if he's okay and if he's willing to help find Winter. Don't drag him along though… he's probably under a lot of stress…"
Johnny nodded and exited the hotel room silently.
Robert sat down with a sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "To think that twenty-four hours ago, I was having dinner with my parents and Oliver was not in my world anymore… now… I find out Oliver is still alive and there's a chance that a homicidal maniac is after him." The Griffon stayed silent for a few heartbeats, before standing. "Come on – the sooner we find him, the sooner we can find a solution."
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"Enrique?"
There was no answer.
Johnny frowned and shut the door with a 'hm'. "Where could he be?"
Something to the side of him caught his eye. In the armchair was a dozing Enrique and on the couch was a sleeping Winter. Johnny couldn't help but sigh in relief – very uncharacteristic of him – they were safe.
He moved over to the Italian and was about to wake him up, but another thing caught his eye – an open book, upon the table.
"His journal?" The Scottish lad could spot Enrique's journal from a mile away. Of course he could – he had tried to steal and read it many a time.
Looking down at the open, double-spread page, his plum eyes widened at the two, large, scribbled words –
HE'S BACK.