Nathan's hearing came back first, though only partially. He heard the distant drone of a television, soft conversations being held in the distance, the rattling of a heating unit...sounds so close, and yet so far, just vaguely out of Nathan's grasp as he tried to remember how he came to be where he was.

Wherever he was.

Feeling came back, then. He was reclined on something cushioned, smelling thickly of warm leather. Speaking of warm, the desperate cold he remembered being surrounded by when he was last conscious was replaced with a pleasant heat, not overbearing, but it did the job. Though the typical aches of his head, back, and leg made his slouched position rather uncomfortable, Nathan couldn't complain - anything was better than the ache of the cold metal cot he laid in every night in prison.

The voices grew sharper along with all the other sounds around Nathan, signaling that he was finally able to fight his way to consciousness. He moaned softly, turning his head to the side, his eyes slowly dragging open.

Light filled his vision, so bright it caused the ache in his head to pulse. He tried to bring his hands up to his eyes to rub them, only to pause - his hands were bound.

Nathan forced his eyes open, fighting against the brightness until his eyes adjusted. Discreetly, he turned his head slightly, looking around. What he saw caused his heart to skip a beat.

He was slumped in a booth at Two Whale's diner, his back and leg quirked awkwardly, as though he had merely been thrown into the booth and left there. It was dark outside, besides the falling of the snow outside, and as such, the diner appeared to be empty.

Nathan shifted slightly as the memories of what had happened came back to him. He swallowed hard, once again shifting, trying to alleviate the pain shooting through his body, however, his movements caused the booth to creak loudly. He froze, his entire body beginning to shake.

Frank seemed to suddenly appear in the booth beside his, his eyes narrowing as his met Nathan's watery blue ones. "Joyce, the brat's awake."

The door leading to the back of the diner swung open, but Nathan was surprised to see David Madsen exit instead of Joyce.

Surprised and terrified.

Nathan immediately held up his hands, which he noticed had been cuffed together, his mouth quivering open, apologies on his tongue. "Ah...ah-"

David slammed his hand down on the table beside Nathan, the sound causing him to flinch slightly. "Shut the fuck up. Officer Berry's on his way, punk." Nathan shuddered as the grown man leaned even closer to Nathan. "Consider yourself lucky that Joyce is more level-headed than me, because if it wasn't for her, I would have put a bullet through your skull."

The proximity of the other man was causing Nathan's heart to stutter, his breathing quickening - if the man moved his hand an inch, he would be touching Nathan's shoulder.

The thought of someone touching him caused Nathan to nearly gag.

Luckily, David chose that moment to pull back, turning around. Joyce's voice echoed from the back, tinged with irritation.

"What do you mean?" she snapped. "He's not your problem?! Well he's certainly not ours!"

David growled lowly, heading for the door. Joyce, as though sensing his approach, quickly exited, a phone pressed to her ear.

"I can't believe this!" she exclaimed in fury, gesturing wildly with her hands.

"What is it?" David asked.

Joyce pressed the phone to her chest, silencing the microphone. "He said that the Prescott boy's five years are up, so he's free to go," she hissed. "That he's not "their problem"."

"Well he's sure as hell not our problem," David snapped.

"That's what I told him," Joyce sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her eyes then flickered open, darting over to Nathan.

He tensed, his hands clenching into fists, shaking in fear. He bowed his head, unable to meet her eyes.

"Call his scum of a father," Frank suddenly suggested, his hand lightly cuffing Nathan over the back of the head. Nathan flinched violently from the touch, hunching his shoulders. Frank didn't seem to notice, as he carried on speaking as though nothing had happened. "I bet he would scrape his dearest little boy's ass off the pavement."

Joyce snorted derisively. "Already asked. Apparently the Sean Prescott dropped his ass, and didn't even visit him in prison...probably the only good decision that man has ever made. They tried calling when he got released, but he didn't want to deal with anything related to him."

"Maybe you should try callin' him," Frank suggested with a shrug. "Threaten to beat the kid's ass or somethin'."

Nathan swallowed hard, forcing back the bile rising in his throat. In spite of the fact he knew how his father...was...it still hurt him deeply to think about how his father could so easily toss him aside. He also knew, even if Joyce threatened such a thing, that Sean wouldn't give a damn.

After all, it wasn't as though Sean hadn't done similar things himself.

"I'm not doing that!" Joyce exclaimed. "And have the Prescott foundation on my ass? We're struggling enough as it is."

"Then what the hell are we going to do, Joyce?" David said, sounding more tired than anything in that moment.

"I don't know," she snapped back.

"Well, ya'll gotta do somethin'," Frank muttered, standing up and heading for the door. He threw on a dirty looking hat, zipping up his coat. "'Cause havin' that brat around is doin' nothin' for my appetite."

Joyce glared at him fiercely. "I don't see you offering up any suggestions."

Frank shrugged nonchalantly. "Throw him out into the blizzard. He ain't any of our problems." Frank glanced back at Nathan, an ugly sneer on his face. "Who'd give a fuck if that monster died anyway, hm?"

Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, letting their voices carry on, but refusing to understand their words. Distantly, he heard Frank leave, and David and Joyce continue their debating. The pleasant warmth he had felt upon immediately waking up had vanished completely, leaving him cold and achy. Thinking back on it, maybe it would have been better if Nathan had just ignored his body's needs for rest and warmth, instead pushing on through the blizzard.

Maybe it would have been better if he collapsed in the middle of the street, blacking out.

Maybe it would have been better if he drifted away from the pain of the world, going into his final sleep...

Joyce's voice suddenly broke through his trance. "I don't care what you have to say. I'm tired of standing around here and arguing about what to do with that piece of shit." She took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm calling Sean Prescott, because I'm ready for all this to be done, you hear?"

"Ha...heh... he... h-he won't..." Nathan suddenly forced out, his voice quiet and raspy. He took a deep breath, trying to control his speech. As normal, his tongue and mouth weren't cooperating with what his brain was thinking, and judging by the harsh looks he was receiving, he really needed to focus and get whatever he was thinking out fast. "H-he...won't come...f...f-for me..."

Almost simultaneously, David and Joyce crossed their arms, staring down at him. David growled out, "The fuck happened to your voice, kid?"

Nathan tensed, his jaw quivering, but Joyce interrupted anything Nathan might have said. "What makes you think that he won't come?" she questioned, her voice surprisingly level, not flowing with hatred.

Nathan's eyes whipped around to train on her. Though her face was stoic and posture firm, the pure fury and resentfulness that had been radiating off of her was far less apparent. Instead, she looked...slightly curious?

Nathan swallowed, working his jaw slightly, before saying, "H...he never...nev...nev-v...er... ca...red...about...m-me..." Nathan slumped back against the booth, breathing heavily.

Joyce's hand tightened around the phone she was still holding in her hand, quickly looking away to meet David's eyes. There was something unreadable in his eyes, as he turned away from Joyce, looking at Nathan himself.

"Then what would you suggest we do with you?" he asked gruffly, a slight warning in his voice - if Nathan said something wrong, David would be on him in a second, ready to literally kick the boy out of the diner.

However, Nathan had no intention of doing what David expected - he had no intention of begging the parents of the girl he murdered to help him out in any way, whatsoever.

Instead, Nathan slowly, painfully sat up, a cold sweat breaking out on his face. Once he made it to his feet, he leaned against the booth breathless, favoring his bad leg as he held out his cuffed hands to David. "I...if you... w-will... un...uh-uh...do th-these...I...I w-will... g-go..." he whispered, head down and eyes half-lidded.

David's eyebrows shot up, before furrowing once more. "Go? Go where?"

Nathan hesitated, pulling his cuffed hands back close to his body. "I...I don't..." He shook his head. Why were they even asking? Weren't they just threatening to throw him out into the blizzard?

Joyce raised an eyebrow. "You think you would survive our there? It's a blizzard out there."

Nathan's jaw clenched so tightly, that it ached as badly as his leg. He stiffly shrugged, eyes trained on the ground.

Joyce suddenly brought the phone to her ear. "No...everything is fine. You don't have to rush down here, in this weather..." she paused, as Officer Berry said something in reply. "No...just..." Joyce sighed heavily, letting her head drop. Nathan looked up at her slightly, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, how much older she looked after five years. Glancing at David, he noticed that there was a fair amount of grey coloring his mustache and hair as well, and the wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced.

Seeing both of these people, and the pain he had caused reflected so clearly in their faces...Nathan felt his stomach flip, his vision beginning to tunnel once again.

However, he was saved from collapsing on the ground by David, who must have seen the color drain from his already pale face.

"Ah...Officer, I will call you again tomorrow," Joyce said quickly, hanging up the phone. David quickly maneuvered the younger boy back onto the booth, as he blinked slowly up at the lights. She stood back as David checked him over to make sure he wasn't going to black out again, her eyes trained on the young man.

In spite of her hatred for the boy, the way he was acting was unnerving to her. She had believed that she would never see her daughter's murderer ever again - she had HOPED she would never see him again. However, fate just never seemed to work out quite right for her, what with William's death, Chloe's murder, and now this...seeing the person she hated the most in the world.

However, the emotions, the pure undiluted rage she had been waiting for to flood her senses...it just was not forthcoming.

Of course she hated him - she more than hated him. But...the number one emotion she was feeling in that moment, was not hate - but curiosity.

Watching as David continued to check the boy over, she couldn't help but wonder one thing: What happened to Nathan Prescott?

A/N I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! In any case, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if you so desire!