Tom took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight. Suppressing Harry was turning out to be much harder than he'd thought, and he could feel himself getting a migraine. Running a hand through his hair one more time, Tom turned and left the bathroom.
A soft knocking at the door immediately had Tom's heart racing. Crossing the room, Tom opened the door and smiled at the sight of Clay. The smile was short lived. The young man seemed tired but, before Tom could ask if he was ok, Clay was pressed against him; pushing the door closed as he took Tom's lips with his. The kiss went on for a few seconds before Clay pulled back with a smile.
"That's better," Clay sighed. "Hey."
"Hey," Tom smiled back. "Bad day?" Clay nodded.
"Whitney's been having more nightmares. She keeps saying we're in danger." Tom forced himself not to react.
"She said something like 'The boy will fail. Harry's coming back.' The doctor's say it's just a reaction to the incident at the hospital." Tom was sure he felt his heart stop for a second. Clay's sigh pulled Tom back.
"She'll be ok," He whispered. "My sister's strong." Tom nodded distractedly. The feel of Clay rubbing his arms, as if soothing him, made Tom look up at the younger man.
"It'll be ok," Tom whispered, as if sensing Clay needed assurance. Clay nodded before leaning back in for a kiss.
"No it won't."
"Will you quit shouting in there." The command was muttered; voice dark. He looked down at the sleeping form on the bed, a smirk playing on his lips.
"You remember when we were here last? He woke up; it was the only thing that saved him."
"Don't you dare! I won't let you!"
"Quiet. You lost your power against me when you let this one in. He made you feel your feelings, and look where that got you." The pickaxe in his hand was heavy and welcome and, with Tom still screaming in his head, Harry brought it back and buried it in the chest of Clay Miller.
The lights were too bright; noises too loud. There was an emergency somewhere; it was the only reason he hadn't been seen. The few who had questioned his being there were dispatched quickly; no time to scream. There was no need for the gasmask anymore; the charade long over. Walking briskly, Harry stopped outside Whitney's door.
Whitney pressed herself into the corner; eyes screwed shut in fear. Her lips moved in a continuous chant as a shadow fell across her slight form.
"He promised. He promised. He promised…" The laugh that emanated was sharp and cruel, and Whitney had to open her eyes.
"You believed Tom?" Harry asked with a smirk. "He's powerless." Whitney opened her mouth; ready to argue. "He was powerless to save your brother." Whitney's eyes widened in shock. Harry laughed darkly, stepping closer to Whitney. "And now, there's nobody left to save you." Whitney closed her eyes tight; preparing for the axe to fall.
Opening her eyes slowly, Whitney saw those green eyes shift, and Tom took a step back.
"Tom?" Whitney moved to approach him, but Tom's hand shot out to stop her.
"Don't," He whispered frantically. "I can't hold him for long. I can't beat him." Whitney was confused. Tom reached into his pocket, pulling out a gun.
"Take this," He told her urgently. Whitney shook her head; scared. "I can't hold him. Please Whitney. You have to end it." Whitney took the gun in shaky hands; looking down at it fearfully.
"Tom, I don't think I can…" Whitney looked up quickly at a loud thud. She looked right into Harry's eyes. He smirked, and she knew she hand no choice. Closing her eyes, Whitney squeezed the trigger, and a shot rang out in the silent room; followed slowly by a whispered: