"In darkness you came to me.

And in darkness you left..."

Gus shrank from the sight of Erik's corpse – like figure on the stretcher. The boy was truly a horrifying sight, from his unmasked face to his skeletal ribs. His head lolled to the side, his stick arms draped over the sides and trailing towards the floor.

"What the hell happened to him?" Gus demanded, shaking himself mentally. Now was not the time to gawk at the boy, which was what the doctor and nurses were doing. "He's dying, damn you! Do something! He's just a boy!"

When they continued to stand there, Gus roared, "Save him, by God, or I will sue everyone in this hospital for child negligence!"

At that they certainly did not hurry, but the doctor finally ordered his nurses to check his vitals. Gus watched impatiently as they attempted to resuscitate him, wincing as his strange body became animated when they tried to use a defibrillator on him.

"Doctor, his skin is turning red," one of the nurses stated.

He leaned over Erik slightly and lifted each lid, then sniffed close to those malformed lips. "I think he's been poisoned. Someone get me the antidote kit."

"No," Gus whispered, and leaned against the wall.

His next thought was disturbing, and he immediately pulled himself from the room, angry for even thinking it.

"What if it were for the best? He looks peaceful..he looks already dead."

"No," he said again to himself. The boy did not deserve to die that way. Certainly not because the world could not bear to look at him. And dying in this manner, Gus was certain, would be nothing less than murder.

"Mr. Dally?"

He turned, and was surprised to see the Judge coming down the hall, minus her black robes and annoying gavel. "You heard?"

"I came as soon as the warden called."

Gus gestured vacantly into the room, then wished that he hadn't. Erik's body was still displayed for all to see, and the Judge's face twisted in revulsion at the sight of it.

"Oh my God."

"You see why I was so adament?"

"Yes...yes, God yes...," she whispered, and moved past the door so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore. "I should like to thank you for it now. It looks like something from-"

"It?" Gus asked sharply.

The Judge closed her eyes, half ashamed, half in agreement. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dally."

"This is not the dark ages," he said furiously. "This is a seventeen year old boy. No matter what he looks like, he deserves the respect of any other human being!"

"What do you want me to think? I dare say the world has never seen anything like Erik Ramsey. He's so damned strange..."

"I hope when you put that robe on, you remember to be unbiased," Gus said coldly, then turned away.

The doctor came out of the room as they stood in the hall, not speaking. "Do either of you know how to get in contact with his relatives?"

"His mother has been notified," Gus replied stiffly. "She isn't coming."

"Not com...," the doctor stopped, and raked a hand through his hair. "I believe he's been poisoned with cyanide. I don't know if he will live or not." He turned back into the room to examine his patient.

"Poisoned?" the Judge gasped. She turned to Gus with wide eyes. "Mr. Dally, this is an outrage!"

"I should say," he said darkly. "Why don't you go ask Phillip Chaney what he knows about it?"

"I hope you are not accusing a former State Senator of attempted murder, Mr. Dally," the Judge said reproachfully. "There are plenty of other people who would do something like this."

"Oh, and I suppose Kate Sorelli's change of testimony had nothing to do with him, nor the fact that her mother just bought a sportscar on a secretary's wages?"

The Judge pressed her hands over her ears. "I can't listen to this. We cannot discuss the case here," she said, glaring at him. "I have to go."

"Wait!" Gus took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "If Erik survives, I want him released into my custody."

"Are you mad?"

"Are you?" he shot back. "If he survives this, then I want him released to my custody. He's not going anywhere. His mother cannot take him, the frigid, unfeeling bitch that she is, and he is not safe behind bars. If you want the truth, I've been expecting a phone call every day saying he'd had his throat slit. He's not safe there!"

She held her hands up, silencing him. "If I let him out...on a very large bail...he will have to be on house arrest unless at trial. A monitoring bracelet will be on his ankle at all times, and two guards will be present wherever he goes."

"Fine."

Gus turned away from her and entered the room. The doctor gave him a disapproving look as he went to the side of the bed, but Gus ignored him as he grasped a bony hand. Feeling a swell of pity for the young, brilliant man who could die so tragically, he wept.

- -

It felt as if the entire school were staring as Christine climbed into the front seat of Detective Kohn's car. The aging middle eastern man sighed as he put the car in reverse and backed out of a parking spot.

"Have you ever ridden in one of these?" he asked, attempting to break the tension.

Wide eyed, she shook her head.

"You know, if the police had busted that party, you would have," Detective Kohn informed her. "Underage drinking, marijuana..."

"I wasn't doing any of that!" she protested, flushing. "If Meg Giry had not wanted to go, then I most certainly wouldn't have gone!"

"Monkey see, monkey do, eh?" he asked wryly.

Christine bit her lip and stared out the window blankly, until she noticed that they were not going in the direction of any hospital that she knew about. "Where are we going?"

"I have to make a stop first. Erik Ramsey's home," Detective Kohn replied quietly. "Your father asked me to."

"Oh, cause his parents?"

His mouth tightened, but he didn't respond. Madison Ramsey had been the first person he had called, and she had said to call her when Erik died. The boy had not even finished his breakfast this morning before he'd started having seizures and gone into a coma. Nothing so far had revived him, but Navin was hoping that his mother's hopes did not come true. No one, especially someone who had never known a moment's happiness, deserved to die in such a way.

He pulled onto the street in front of an ill reputed apartment building, well known for being used as a crack house, and frowned. "You'll have to come inside with me. This is a bad neighborhood."

Christine glanced suspiciously around, but nodded. Something about Erik drew her curious mind open, and more than anything she wanted to see where he lived. She followed the detective up to the eight floor, pressing her hand over her nose at the strong smell of urine, and waited beside him when he knocked on a door with no number to it.

"Who is it?" a man demanded from inside.

"Detective Navin Kohn, SFPD."

"Yeah? What do you want?"

"I'm here to get Erik's things," he replied, "so open up."

The door swung open, revealing Ethan Little dressed in greasy mechanics clothes. "Make sure you take it all this time. Bury him with it, hell, I don't care!"

With that he walked back to his recliner and proceeded to finish watching Donahue.

Christine scurried down the hall after Detective Kohn, nearly clinging to his suit jacket. He snagged an empty box off the kitchen table then entered a bedroom that was only slightly larger than her closet at home.

Compared to the rest of the house, which was a dingy yellow with dirty dishes and trash lying around, this room was neat and clean. The uncarpeted floor was swept, the walls a dark blue, and there was nothing out of place.

"Don't touch anything," he ordered, and turned to a small desk beside the closet.

Keeping an eye on her, Detective Kohn located several things that he had seen during the course of his first search of Erik's room that he thought the boy might want. Four journals filled with hundreds of drawings of some strange mirrored apparatus with mathematical equations written carefully beside each measurement; a picture of his mother, though God knew why he'd kept it; several little devices that Navin thought looked like a rather sophisticated mouse trap...and a silver necklace with a heart on it that had been hidden behind the drawer.

While Christine was standing there, gawking with all the subtlety that a sixteen girl could muster, Navin gathered Erik's clothes, six masks, and three books on opera music.

"He doesn't have much, does he?" Christine asked, her expression one of pity.

"I don't think he could keep anything of value," Detective Kohn said abruptly. "Erik told me during his interrogation that he had a tendency to give any money that he had to his mother, and anything else of value that pig boyfriend of hers took to a pawn shop.

"I feel so sorry for him," she whispered. "I never talked to him at school. I...I didn't know what to say."

Detective Kohn gave her a tired smile. "Sometimes 'hello' is good enough, Miss Dally. Perhaps if Erik makes it through this, you will get your chance."