Everything is blue. There's smoke in the air; maybe it's fog. He's somewhere deep and far away. Alone, he sits on a rock. There's debris all around. Out in the distance something moves but it's too far for him to care. His legs are crossed and he stares out at the nothingness enveloped in defeat.

How long had he been out here? What he was doing seems to be right there in his mind just beyond his reach and he spins in a constant state of almost. He feels pain but it's so far out that it can go unnoticed most of the time. He's alone but something tells him he can hear voices if he tries hard enough but it's so stressful to try.

All he wants to do is sit in the abyss.

So he does. He takes the time to breath. He allows the cool air to press in around him. Some small part of him feels like he's floating. It's so wonderful here in this place. In the place of blue. Where ever else would you want to go when you can just sit here?

Some time passes. He doesn't get tired. He doesn't get hungry. He doesn't fear the things moving way out in the distance. It's peaceful. No one can have his peace.

Then suddenly there's a shift. Air comes rushing at him. The blue becomes black. His body lifts up off the rock and he's suspended in the nothingness. For a few moments he holds his breath and when his lungs fill the world is white. Valerio wakes up in his hospital bed.

The monitor above him is beeping. He's wrapped up in gauze. There's a doctor in a white lab coat messing with wires hooked up to his arms. There's three boys he recognizes staring at him from across the room.

"Why did you wake me up?" He asks, "I liked where I was at."

They all just look at each other and then look back at him. It's another puzzle. Of all the kids to survive the Las Encinas massacre he has to spend Christmas knowing it was these three.

Polo's disney villain sweater is purple like Ursula's skin and his black sweat pants are clinging to his hips like he's poured into them. There's a transparency to the Benavent boy like part of him is missing.

Guzman's blue hoodie is open revealing a white long sleeve shirt with the design of a dog in a Santa hat right there on the chest and he's got on some jeans. There's a sternness about his face like he's protecting the boys on either side of him.

Ander's sea green turtle neck brings out the mystery in his eyes and he's wearing wood brown corduroys so he appears like a boat on the open ocean in the ease of a storm. A fog in his expression like he's thinking about anything but this.

Valerio's hair is matted to his face like he's just been plucked from the water in a fishing net. He's all sweaty from nightmares. His hospital gown reveals his thick thighs and hairy calves. He'd be embarrassed but he's too preoccupied by the burns on his stomach to care about their perspectives.

"Where are the kids?" He asks.

Dr. Atticus Lincoln lays a hand on his shoulder, "They're fine. Dr. Robbins is the best in pedes and she's come all the way from New York just for them. As soon as they're up for it I'll see to it that you get to see them. They're calling you a hero."

"Me?" He laughs, "A hero? I was a coward who ran from my problems."

Then, like it all came rushing back at once, he's grabbing a hold of the fabric of Dr. Lincoln's sleeve. He looks up with a strong urgency, "Did they catch the guy? The one who did this to me?"

"We have some officers on standby who would like to ask you some questions. You don't have to rush but they'd like to know what happened." Says the doctor kindly.

Valerio pulls away and looks out the window with a sheen of terror over his face. He's remembering all he was forced to do. All the pain he endured. All the screaming. The face of the ghost who haunted him. Watching Lucrecia's skin disintegrate before his eyes.

"He said it was a game." Valerio whispers.

The three boys looking at him all seem to breath at the same time. Then they move to sit on the edges of Valerio's bed. This young man has been through a lot and he doesn't need further judgement. He needs friends.

Ander takes his hand, "We're with you. Till it's over. Till you decide you don't need us any more."

He winces and takes his hand away, "Everything hurts. Please. Don't touch me."

"I'm going to turn the morphine back up. Give you another day or so to heal. I'll tell the officers to come back later." Says Dr. Lincoln.

There's a turn in a metal dial. The drip puddles and then pools into his veins. Soon he's whisked away again. All the pounding in his skull slows down to almost nothing and he's rolling his head against the cool pillow to return to that blue world. How calm. How peaceful. There is no pain here. Only almosts...

Guzman, Polo, and Ander rise from the sheets. Polo slinks into the open arms of Guzman and nuzzles his head into the crook of Guzman's neck. Ander crosses his arms and looks over the beautiful body of this broken wild stallion. It's sad. They were so disappointed to hear that Valerio of all people had survived the massacre but to see him kind of feels like a relief.

Ander almost wants to crawl in with him and press against his body in the hopes that he could take some pain away but knows from experience he could only make it worse. So he chooses just to stare. He examines the places where the gauze does not reach. The open skin. Those peculiar marks. A memory, only a flash, comes to his mind of their night in the hotel resort back in spain. During the storm he'd seen the fire and heard the screaming.

"What are those marks?" Ander asks Dr. Lincoln.

The bone surgeon is just as confused as they are, "We're not sure. Our plastics attending Dr. Avery couldn't figure it out. They're burns but not like any he's ever seen."

Then with a close of his clipboard Dr. Lincoln is walking tall out of the room leaving the three boys with all of this weight. It's woeful exposure. It's frightening. It's more than overwhelming.

Then, through the silence, Ander decides he has something to say.

"I think I need to speak to that Camille woman."