A/N: And this is the last chapter, people...it's on to the next fic now.

They still hadn't found him. Hours had passed since Dickie had taken off from the playground on Staten Island, and since Elliot had left the precinct without so much as a backward glance after being informed that his older son seemed to be missing again. Wednesday night had finally started to fade into Thursday morning, and already, there was a sinking feeling settling over Elliot, one that he didn't want to think about. They had been everywhere that they could think of, but still, there was nothing.

"I don't get it," he said, once everyone who had been out looking at met up at Erin's again. "All this time, and none of them have gone farther than the playground…"

"We're going to find him," said Erin. "He can't possibly have gotten far; he didn't take anything with him."

"I never took anything with me, either," said Elliot, "It's not hard to get from here to there in this city."

His cell phone went off in his pocket for what had to have been the fifth time in the past hour, but he ignored it again, looking at his watch and pulling his jacket back on. Outside, it had started to rain.

"We're headed into a thunderstorm," said Bryan. "Where haven't we looked?"

But there were too many places where they hadn't looked, and everyone there knew it. Thunder cracked loudly outside, and Elliot reached for his keys.

"You lot can stay here until the storm is over, but I'm not," he said. "Not until I find my son."

And with that, he was gone, out the door and into the rain. His keys slipped from his fingers and hit the ground; he bent down to find them in the darkness. When he straightened again, he could see that the others had started to leave, all of them going back out to help him look. He turned to unlock the driver's side door on his own car, but before he could get in, a voice came out of the rain.

"Hey, Elliot, wait!" Seconds later, Jamey appeared, slightly out of breath, without shoes or a coat. "I think I know where he might be."

"And you didn't say anything?" Elliot asked, giving her an annoyed look.

"It just hit me," Jamey told him, ignoring this. "You looked everywhere except your house. What if he's there?"

It was something that none of those looking had considered. It made sense, though, Elliot thought, pulling his car door open. Of all the places in the world, his children had always told him that they'd felt safest at home.

"I'll look there," he told her, "You go back inside before your mother sees you."

"She already did," Jamey replied, but she turned to go back into the house. "I hope you find him."

She disappeared into the rain again, but he stared at where she'd been for a moment before leaving, hoping the exact same thing.

None of the lights were on when he got there. The storm had faded into the distance, but it was still raining quite hard. The sky was starting to fade from black to gray, signaling the official arrival or morning. Already, there were other cars leaving the neighborhood, headed for work. Elliot ignored them all and got out of his own car, without bothering to turn it off before he took the front steps, two at a time.

The crime scene tape that had been across the door for months was broken, but the door was locked. Again, his cell phone went off, but again, he ignored it, and fumbled through his keys for the one that would allow him to go inside. A few minutes passed before he found it and slid it into the lock. The door opened, but he didn't bother to pull the keys out before he went in. It was mostly quiet inside; Elliot flipped on some of the lights to allow himself to see and headed towards the kitchen.

The radio was playing softly, but there was no one there. The sound of the wind making a door upstairs slam closed made him jump; he turned and went up. Leaving all the lights off, he pushed all of the doors open and looked in, one by one, swallowing back the memories of all that he had been told. Still, there was no one, and only the room at the end of the hall remained. Elliot turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Even in the shadows that fell across the room, he could still make out the lone figure on the bed, huddled beneath the covers.

"There you are," he said, more to himself than to Dickie, who turned around anyway. "We've been worried sick."
He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his arms; seconds passed, and then Dickie was leaning against him, face hidden against his shoulder. Elliot hugged him tightly, his eyes sliding closed in relief.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and felt Dickie nod, mutely, before he went on. "What happened? Why'd you come back here?"

Dickie looked up, and then away. "I got into it with Maureen," he said. "That's why I left. I was going to come back, but then I got here, and I didn't want to leave." He trailed off for a long moment, and then, "I didn't think you'd notice."

"What?" Elliot asked, startled. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. I just did. So after I got into it with Maureen, I just ran."

"And you ended up here."

"You always told us that home was always gonna be the safest place in the world besides the precinct. I used to believe you. I wanted to know if I still could."

Silence. There was a point in all of this, and Elliot knew it. Even so, he didn't let go, and instead looked down at Dickie, frowning slightly.

"What happened to your face?" he asked. "Did you…"

"I fell," Dickie replied, without looking at him. It was, of course, a lie, but things were already screwed up enough as it was. The real answer didn't need to come out yet. "I just…I fell."

But how far he'd fallen, and how far the other three had fallen hadn't yet become obvious.

If they had anything to do with it, it never would.