Patrick wakes up to the feeling of the bed violently shaking back and forth and he jerks his head up from the pillow. His vision is blurry from not wearing his glasses and shaky because of the bed's movement.

"Time to get up, Stump." Pete says and just like that the bed stops moving.

Patrick turns around toward the voice and Pete is standing beside the bed with his foot on the edge of the mattress. The boy snatches his glasses off the nightstand then shoves them onto his face, glaring at the older man.

"You were shaking the bed? God, Pete, I thought I was dying." Patrick flops backwards onto the pillow and breathes a sigh of relief.
Pete drops his foot from the edge of the mattress and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Breakfast's on the table. I can't cook but it looks edible so we're going to eat it."

"Fine." Patrick grumbles, tossing the sheets and blanket aside then follows Pete to the kitchen.

There's two plates of pancakes and eggs set on the table, complete with silverware and a bottle of syrup standing between the plates. They sit down and eat in silence other than the sound of metal clinking together and Pete repeatedly picking up the syrup, squirting it on his food (eggs included) and placing it back onto the table.

Once they're both finished eating and the dishes are cleaned Pete goes to grab clothes from his closet and heads to the bathroom to shower.

Patrick sits and watches TV in the living room. It's still pretty early and nothing is ever really on at...whatever time it is. But Patrick's guess is that it's around seven-ish judging by the pale golden rays of sun peeking through the blinds.

Pete exits the bathroom some half hour later and calls from the hallway, "Shower and get dressed."

"It's a little early for dinner and a movie, isn't it?" Patrick jokes.

"Oh, ha ha." Pete deadpans. "Just go do it."

Patrick gets up and picks out some clothes from his duffel bag and shuffles over to the bathroom, showering, getting dressed and tossing on one of the trucker hats he'd brought. Then the two leave the apartment and hop in Pete's car.

"Where are we going?" Patrick leaned his head against the car window, gazing at all the passing scenery.

"You'll see when we get there." Pete responds, his eyes glued to the road.

They're going to an unknown location and it kind of makes Patrick nervous. Anyone could see them and recognize him and then bad things will happen and Patrick can't help but feel on edge. The only time he ever leaves home is when Vaughn makes him. Too many times has he come home covered in another person's blood or owning something that wasn't his. Pete must be noticing his uneasiness, "Calm down." glancing between Patrick and the road a few times. "This part of town is always dead until noon, I don't plan on staying out that long though. But if it'll make you feel better you can duck your head below the dash until we get there and afterward we'll only go out at night like vampires from then on." Pete explains with a thin smile, the first and only smile Patrick's seen appear on Pete's face. He tries his best to ignore it.

"Tell me where we're going."

Pete sighs. "Just trust me, I know what I'm doing. At least I think I know what I'm doing." He mutters the last sentence to himself.

"But I don't trust you."

"Patrick, I don't trust you either, but if we're going to go through with this deal you're going to have to suck it up and learn how to." Pete then pulls over and parallel parks by an empty curb.

They're parked in front of a big field dotted with a few trees and nothing else, it's just a large, empty, grassy field. Patrick lifts his head from the window and looks to Pete, confused and slightly nervous. Then Pete finally says, "Okay?"

Patrick gives the man a blank stare. "You shot me, remember that?"

"To be fair, you broke into my apartment. I could've killed you legally." Pete turns off the engine, unbuckles his seat belt then opens the door, but before he steps out he looks at Patrick seriously. "Be glad I didn't." Then he gets out and motions for Patrick to follow.

The two sit in a spot underneath a towering oak tree that provided a large perimeter of shade. Patrick sat with his back against the tree's trunk, hugging his knees to his chest. The officer took a seat in the pad grass across from him. Pete just needed to get Patrick to concentrate, focus on himself and separate Patrick Stump from Vaughn...last name. And thought that maybe the scenery will help to clear his mind.

As far as Pete knows, the boy is only schizophrenic but it seems pretty serious. He never thinks for himself, allows Vaughn to do it for him, and Patrick needs to learn how to tune him out. If Patrick doesn't listen and Vaughn no longer has a voice then maybe he'll slowly die out. Maybe. Pete's only going on a few pages of Wikipedia and his own vague knowledge of whatever the hell he learned in health class years ago in high school. All he knew for sure was that it was a mental illness and hopes he's not making things worse. He's going with what he thinks is right.

"Why are we here?" Patrick asks sleepily, resting the back of his head against the tree.

"Right now I just want you to listen, okay?"

Patrick quietly nods, dropping one of his knees down and stretching his leg out in front of him.

"Close your eyes."

The boy stares at Pete skeptically then opens his mouth to protest, but Pete interrupts. "No talking. Just do it."

Patrick sighs but obeys.

"Um," Pete rubs his hands together in thought. "what do you hear?"

Patrick makes a face then says, "You talking. The wind. What's the point of this?"

"You're not listening dude." Pete takes it as a good sign that Patrick doesn't mention hearing Vaughn. "Listen to me. Think about you, just you and only you. Anything that describes yourself. Nothing else."

Patrick goes silent, looking as though he was scanning his own thoughts and thinking of whatever he could come up with. Trying to, anyway. He continues to try and Pete can see his eyeballs roam behind his lids, but he looks like he's lost again. And this time he can't can't find his way back.

Then his eyes shoot open. "I-I can't." His brows knitting together with worry.

"Why, what happened?"

"He's blocking me out."

"What-"

"Pete, I can't do this." His words are frantic.

"Yes you can. Fight back!" Pete encourages, his eyes screaming the same words into Patrick's and he sees that Patrick is attempting to hold on but he's losing his grip. He's losing the fucking fight. And he's afraid and Pete is afraid for him and his eyes cry out, 'I'm scared, Pete'.

Patrick faints, passes out, blacks out, whatever the fuck you want to call it, his body going limp and his lids sliding shut.

Oh fuck, what happened? Oh God, he broke Patrick, this is his fault. Pete leans forward with his arm outstretched, cautiously reaching toward the boy. "Patrick?"

Then he jumps up, his eyes opening back up and taking one big, deep breath. Though, he somehow doesn't appear to be the same. But Pete couldn't even conduct another thought before the boy tackled him, causing Pete to yell out in astonishment. They roll and tumble in the grass, Patrick's fists wound tight in the fabric of Pete's shirt. He growled out words that Pete couldn't understand because of all the movement, but it all eventually comes to a halt causing Patrick to sit on top of him. The boy was breathing heavily and didn't look like himself, his eyes were darker and full of hate, heated with anger. What the fuck did Pete do wrong? Why is Patrick-

"Leave Patrick alone, he doesn't need you!" He growls out, tightening his grip on Pete's shirt. "You are not helping him get rid of me! Try this shit again, I will end fucking end you." He then leans his face down toward Pete's, close enough to where their noses are mere centimeters away and feels Patrick's breath ghost over his lips. "Understand?"

Pete swallows the lump in his throat and refuses to answer. This isn't Patrick. Vaughn must have taken over somehow and he was pissed. He has a threatening grasp on Patrick and if he doesn't let go Pete is afraid that he'll attempt to take all control. Then Patrick would no longer exist, only Vaughn, everything just took a sharp turn into oncoming traffic.

"That's not a rhetorical question, Peter." His voice, several octaves lower than Patrick's, breaks Pete out of his thoughts. He nods fervently.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, y-yeah, I understand."

Vaughn smirks and sits up, releasing Pete's shirt. He re-adjusts his hat then says, "Good. Let's go home Peter." before he gets to his feet, staring down at Pete with the same smirk plastered on his lips then steps over him and walks toward the car, leaving Pete lying in the grass.

This is already a huge fucking mess.