Within under an hour, they were on the outskirts of Dublin. No longer afraid of being seen, the boys had repositioned themselves to stand at the back of the little truck, holding on to the side rails and enjoying the feeling of the wind in their hair. After a while, though, they'd hit a major highway, and the freedom to be so reckless was replaced with a desire to live, so the two moved further into the truck bed and steadied themselves in case bumps came along. They would poke their heads over the side of the truck every so often, though, to get a glimpse of the increasing buildings and signs of civilization. Both felt an incredible relief at being back amongst people and gas stations and hotels and restaurants. They'd been too long wandering and growing increasingly frightened and uncertain as to whether they'd ever be somewhere normal again. On the other hand, an almost-tangible anticipation was building in each boy: in Eric because he still had pretty much no clue as to how to go about solving the mystery he'd thought was so clear-cut in the beginning, and in Neil because he had developed (in spite of himself) what could almost be termed a friendship with Eric and was now struggling with the knowledge that what he was planning to do was not particularly kind. The two kept their nerves to themselves, but the silence that hung solid in the air between them as they drove deeper into the capital city was evidence enough of their apprehension. Had either been concentrating less on his own inner turmoil, he might have noticed his friend's similar feelings.

Their driver did not go directly into Dublin. She instead came to a stop at a grocery a couple of miles out of the city center. It was there that she dropped her passengers off, informing them about a bus-line that picked up on the street corner and ran direct into the middle of Dublin, with numerous stops on the way. Neither boy felt it in himself to tell her they had no money with which to purchase bus fare (or even a snack for their grumbling stomachs) and instead thanked her and ambled over toward the corner she'd indicated.

"What now?" Eric asked.

"How do you expect me to know? I have no idea."

Eric shrugged. "Why don't we just walk?"

The urge to protest didn't even arise in Neil. He nodded in assent, as if it was their only real option. "If we get back up to that highway, we can just follow it. All the signs coming in read Dublin. It'll lead us into town eventually."

"True."

They shoved their hands in their pockets and started down the road toward the highway. The joy for life they'd felt upon waking that morning had seeped out of them, slowly at first during their ride in but now quickly, as if this last leg of their journey was just too much. They'd been walking and hungry for what seemed forever, and they were just plain tired. Nevertheless, the boys set off on what they hoped to be their last long trek.

They talked a little along the way. Eric asked Neil whether he would try to get in contact with his godfather when they got into the city, and Neil replied that he didn't think so. He meant it, too. The temporary thrill of finding a relative that seemed to care about him had pretty much disappeared as time had passed. Besides, he had some business to take care of—but he didn't tell Eric that part. And Eric was too busy thinking about his own goals; in fact, the moment they were within city limits, he began wondering aloud where the hospital was. Neil was relieved; he'd been pondering the best way to get rid of the kid for a little while and was glad for the opportunity.

Neil had mentally wrestled himself in attempt to decide whether he should go through with his plan or not. He'd decided, though, that no matter how close he'd grown to this kid, under no circumstances could he return home to his father.

When he said he'd meet up with Eric after his trip to the hospital, Eric was crestfallen. "You . . . you don't want to come?" was what he said.

They were standing outside a huge, busy tourist shop and people were scurrying everywhere. Neil pretended to be interested in watching them for a moment to buy some time; he hadn't thought up a great excuse. "Uh, no. I . . . I figured I'd let you take care of this on your own . . . it . . . it seems to be . . . well, you know. It's something so personal. I—I think that this is a journey and . . . and you've got to, you know, seize the day and all . . . Just—you'll be a stronger person if you can do this on your own."

Eric chewed the corner of his mouth and eyed nothing in particular. "You're right," he said at length. "You're totally right. I won't ever get anywhere in life if I expect someone to hold my hand every step of the way. I came here to save my sister and my sanity, and I will figure this out once and for all, on my own."

Neil inwardly sighed with relief. He hadn't thought much of his disjointed struggle for words. A twinge of guilt poked him somewhere inside, and he wondered with a sense of disgust whether he was ever going to regain his prior tough demeanor: he was beginning to feel like a sissy. "Alright. Then I'll meet you somewhere. Where, and when?"

Eric thought. "How about that Starbucks where I saw you last time, in about four hours?"

"Yeah," Neil nodded. "That sounds good. It'll give me enough time just to find the place again." He laughed half-heartedly.

Eric joined in his laugh, but his sounded almost nervous. He hesitated in saying something but then sighed. "Well, I guess this is it, then. I'll see you in four hours?"

"Yep. And hey, good luck, man."

"You too," Eric chimed. "I mean, finding Starbuck's."

Neil nodded and began to turn away.

If you get there before me," Eric quickly added, "uh . . . just . . . don't leave. You know, because I might be a little late, but I'll be there . . . so . . . don't just leave, ok?"

Neil, who had turned back around at the sound of Eric's voice, nodded, smiling slightly. "Yeah, ok, nerd."

"Promise?"

With an expression inscrutable to Eric, Neil responded, "Yeah, I promise."

The two turned away from each other, then, and though each looked back, he missed the other's glance.

Neil somehow instinctively knew where to go. His sense of direction was innate in areas he'd been before, and he was smart enough to ask for assistance when he felt a bit confused. His steps were quick and sly, almost animal-like, as if he was a predator on the prowl, and in a sense, he was. He knew that the time he had was limited, and though he'd momentarily felt bad for what he was planning to do (the parting look Eric had given him was enough to make anyone ashamed), now that he'd made up his mind and started the process, he was more determined than ever to see it through. He just had to hope that he'd find the two guys where they'd said they'd be.

"We're always here," they'd told him when he'd met them his first day in Dublin. They'd been working behind the counter of some seedy little joint he'd stumbled across in his effort to know the real Dublin. He'd told them what he was about; he'd told them about his father—the man's drinking and neglect. He'd gone on about his hatred for his dad, and they'd related, because they hated pretty much all authority figures. "Anytime you need a favor," they'd said, "you know where to find us." And so he was seeking them now in the hope that they'd be true to their word. It had in reality only been about a week since he'd met them, though he felt as if it had been much longer.

The café was dark when he found it, but that might have been due to the crummy Dublin weather and the late afternoon hour. The place's location in a constantly-shadowed back alley also contributed to its shady appearance. Nevertheless, it was open, and Neil was pleased to find himself one of its few customers as he entered.

Some rock music played quietly over the speakers, and there were a few men hunched darkly over their drinks in a back corner, but other than that, there were few signs of life. Neil approached the counter, scanning its length to see if he could spot one of the two he'd met previously. He saw no one at first, but then a door opened at one end and out came one of the guys.

Neil smiled a little too brightly but didn't notice the startled look the guy gave him. "Remember me?" he asked.

The guy nodded, cleaning out a glass with a towel. His expression melded almost imperceptibly into one of casual greeting. Had Neil been less intent on his purpose, he might've noticed something odd in the atmosphere. However, he was too excited to be astute and immediately began explaining why he'd returned.

"And so you see," he wrapped up his explanation, "it's really a simple thing to do. I just need him to see it. That way, he'll tell everyone I've been murdered or kidnapped and I can just disappear like I've wanted to. Maybe go over to the mainland and get lost."

"We'll do it, no worries," the guy said without blinking an eye, almost cutting Neil off.

"Really? Just like that? You don't need to check with your friend or anything?"

"No, no, he'll be up for it. This is the sort of thing we love to do—help a friend in need and all."

"Great!" Neil beamed enthusiasm. "So I'll be outside the Starbucks. Wait till you see us exit, and it's got to be in an alley, or something. If anyone else sees, then they might—"

"I've got it. Don't worry. Why don't yeh head off so yeh aren't late?"

Neil complied, whistling as he left the place, thinking the sound of his whistle odd because he hadn't heard it in so long. He was happy, even if there was still a plain of anxiety resting beneath that cheerfulness. He just couldn't worry about Eric. The most important thing of all was to get away from his father, no matter how much he was beginning to get along with the kid.

Eric was later than Neil had expected him to be. The redhead had been waiting nearly thirty minutes before the kid showed up. It had been a tortuous wait, seeing as Neil hadn't the money to buy coffee or anything else and his stomach had just sat there grumbling the whole while he'd been watching everyone around him. His nerves also grew the longer he sat.

When Eric did finally arrive, he looked upset. Neil hadn't known what to expect from him, so he wasn't surprised. How likely was it that Eric had found his real baby sister, even if the fairies had exchanged her? What could the hospital do about it? In any case, the kid looked grumpy, and though Neil knew he should be concerned and ask Eric how things had gone, he didn't want to start a conversation he wouldn't really be focused on, especially because it looked like Eric had enough to say to fill a novel. Perhaps he looked rude, but soon enough, he would be free of this burdensome companion.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

Eric had just sat down. He lowered his eyebrows. "Already? I just got here."

"Yeah, well I've been here half an hour."

"Ok . . . but there's nowhere to go right now, anyway, and it's starting to rain. Can't I just warm up? Maybe see if I can leach some money off of someone?"

"No." Neil didn't feel like explaining. He stood up and grabbed Eric's arm, pulling the grumbling kid through the Starbucks and right back out into darkening, wettening weather.

The minute they left the Starbuck's, Neil scanned the street. Eric, behind him, was complaining about all sorts of things, not realizing that his companion was entirely preoccupied. Neil led the two of them a few blocks over about halfway down an alley that was ominously dark and empty, yet Eric blabbered on, taking virtually no notice of their odd whereabouts until Neil spun around and asked him to shut up.

Hurt, Eric frowned. "Well, you don't have to be so abusive!" he snapped, rubbing his glasses up his nose and pouting. He looked around for the first time since following Neil out the door of the Starbuck's. "Where are we? Why are we standing in this unpleasant place?"

Neil was still distracted. Where were those guys? They were supposed to have followed them, but he hadn't seen them on the street. If they didn't show up soon, Eric would want to leave, and everything would get messed up.

"Let's go back," Eric was saying. "This is creeping me out."

"No! Wait!" Neil was ready to dart toward Eric and pin him in place if he had to, but fortunately, he didn't.

Suddenly, two darkly clothed figures turned down the alley, blocking their exit. Eric was noticeably startled. He jumped back as the two larger, indistinguishable men approached. He looked over his shoulder, real fear in his eyes as he remarked, "It's a dead end!" Neil's gut panged, but there was nothing he could do. The plan had been set into motion. There was no going back. "What are we going to do?" Eric hissed.

"Maybe they're not going to mess with us. They're just a couple of guys."

"Are you serious? They're clearly coming right for us!" As if to verify Eric's words, one of the guys pulled a short knife out of his pocket and waved it; the blade reflected a flash of light. Eric let out a frightened yelp, and even Neil was unsettled at how realistically the guys were playing their roles. He felt his heart beating and knew he needed to help them make this happen.

"Eric," he said, grabbing hold of the kid's arm as they inched toward the back wall and the thugs inched toward them. "I'll take care of these two. You run around them and go for help, ok?"

To his surprise, Eric refused. "You must be jesting. I'm not leaving you! They'll kill you!"

Neil shoved him to the wall. He didn't have time to argue. The guys were mere feet away. "Just do what I say!"

Perhaps out of sheer terror, Eric consented, and as the two thugs reached them, Neil braced himself for what he knew would be a feign attack. He'd taken drama for about a month last year and figured he could fake-fight pretty well.

Just as Neil had advised, Eric attempted to scoot around the attackers, but the thugs weren't going after only Neil. One lunged right at him and wrapped his arms entirely around Eric's upper torso, trapping his arms and rendering him entirely incapable of much action. The other one—the one with the knife—went for Neil, and the two grappled with each other as Eric attempted to kick his assailant in any place that might hurt (which his height unfortunately made impossible). Neil was shouting things, but Eric couldn't tell what due to the din he was himself creating. Though the scuffle seemed an hour long, in reality it was finished in about fifteen seconds, and Neil and Eric stared wide-eyed at each other from their choke-holds. Eric could see both fury and confusion in his friend's face, but his own revealed only panic.

"Shut up or I'll cut yer throat!" snarled Neil's captor when his prisoner looked to make more noise. "Just come along and keep it quiet, and no one gets hurt."

"Otherwise, we'll kill yeh," added the one holding Eric.

What should they do? The knife at Neil's throat was enough to convince Eric not to struggle. In the back of his mind, he knew that going anywhere willingly with these two cretins, no matter their promise that no one would get hurt, was extremely foolish, and yet, he wasn't going to risk his friend's life by attempting to save his own. He didn't have much more time to strategize because within seconds, a delivery vehicle had turned into the alley and was puttering toward them. At first, a ray of hope shone in Eric—they were spotted! They were saved! But his heart sank when the driver hopped out and began conversing with their captors in a sly and friendly tone.

Neil and Eric were quickly forced around to the back of the delivery vehicle and then inside its double doors. The guys slammed the truck shut, leaving them in total darkness—there were no windows, and the back was partitioned off from the front, where the three were presumably gathering.

Immediately, Eric tried the door, but there were no handles or latches in the interior. They were stuck. His panic simmered a little, though. Now, he'd have time to think of a plan. He blabbered on for several moments about various ideas as the truck lurched into motion. They had to think fast, he said; they didn't know how much time they had.

Eric's frantic voice unnerved Neil. He sat in the dark, back against the sides of the van, as his counterpart tried to alleviate his obvious fear by jabbering on about all sorts of impossible plans of escape. Had he been less seething Neil might have had the urge to tell him to shut up, but as it was, his pure ire and confusion muddled his mind to the point of silence.

The vehicle took off, and after a few minutes of driving, Eric ran out of energy and slid down onto the floor of the van across from Neil, hugging his knees to his chest, and choked back a sob. His attempt was no good. He began to cry aloud, and Neil, who'd paid little attention to anything the kid had been saying, now couldn't help but listen. He felt horrible. Terrible. He'd never felt so awful in his life, actually, and he was angry to allow himself to be so plagued with guilt.

"Stop it," he muttered between clenched teeth.

Eric didn't hear him, or else he didn't care; the sobbing continued.

"Shut up, will you?" Though Neil couldn't see in the darkness, he raised his voice in Eric's general direction. "Shut the hell up! Why are you crying, you big baby? What are you, five?"

"I-I can't h-help it! I'm j-just sc-scared! We're going to die!" Eric was crying so heartily that he started coughing because he was choking on the tears. "They're g-going to k-kill us or c-cut us up in p-pieces. They'll m-m-murder us and we'll be d-dead!"

"Stop saying that kind of crap! We're not going to die!" In the back of his mind, Neil hadn't a clue what their kidnappers were thinking of doing to them, but it was too difficult to admit that aloud. "Geez, I hate you! Why do I have to be stuck with such a chicken? You think your sister's a pain? Maybe you should look at yourself! You're the biggest pain in the butt I've ever met! All you do is complain and whine and freak out at every little thing that happens! I wish to God I'd never even met you!" He realized when his tirade came to an end that he'd been yelling. He was shaking from his anger, and it was even more recognizable because Eric had calmed himself down a little. Neil's anger had come from somewhere else, somewhere that had nothing to do with Eric's cowardice.

Eric's sniveling and sniffling, interpolated with weak little gasps for breath, at length ceased altogether when he spoke words that quietly crept across the darkness. "Whatever you say about me, at least I'm not the delinquent product of an abusive alcoholic father who doesn't love me."

The words sunk into Neil's head. He couldn't believe them when they did. Forgetting any friendliness he'd felt toward Eric, he growled a primal growl and lunged toward the kid in the darkness, where he ended up punching the van wall. Eric was surprisingly pugnacious, himself, and a burst of energy surged through him, compelling him to ball his fist and punch out into the air. He was surprised to make contact with Neil's face. The redhead yelped in part-shock, part-pain, and then the two of them erupted in a full-on brawl in the back of that dark van. They pulled and kicked and punched and rolled around, half of the time harming nothing but empty air. Their fight ended only when Eric's shoe smushed up hard against Neil's nose and the cry of pain that he emitted put an automatic stop to it all and they flopped back to their respective walls of the van. Both boys panted like dogs on a hot day.

"You broke my nose!" Neil cried, his words muffled as his hands tended to his face.

"Sorry," Eric replied, genuinely. "But just for the nose," he added.

"Just for . . .?" Neil didn't get it at first. Then it struck him. Bitter, he replied, "Oh, so not for what you said?"

"No." Eric knew well that such a reply might cause another fight, but he was stubborn and a bit elated at having discovered his fighting capabilities.

Neil was tired, though, and figured he had more to answer for than Eric did. He sighed and closed his eyes in pain as the air moved through his nose. Some warm liquid ran down his upper lip onto his lower lip, tasting like metal, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. "Listen," he said. "This is all my fault."

"Yeah, no joke," Eric muttered. "If you hadn't picked just about the creepiest street in Ireland to walk down—"

"That's not what I mean."

"If we'd never left Starbuck's. It was you who was so insistent. I could've mooched some money off of someone, but no . . . you had to leave."

"No—no, shut up. That's not—"

"The whole trip? That was you, too. I mean, if you'd just left me alone in that library—just let me come by myself . . . I would be back home by now, and you'd probably be in the same place, brooding out in the hall at school. We'd be right back where we started."

Neil's impatience almost got the best of him, but when he flared his nostrils the pain kept him from getting too loud. "I'm trying to actually apologize, here, but you can't keep your freaking mouth shut long enough to let me explain!"

"Haven't I covered just about everything you should apologize for? Or were you going to add that you're sorry you were born, too?"

Before Neil could elaborate, the van slowed and came to a stop. Both boys wondered what on earth could be in store for them. They said nothing to one another—just listened to the sounds of the front doors opening and slamming and voices drawing near the rear doors. Their hearts palpitated like rabbits frozen at some movement, and each could hear his own beating in his ears. The back doors swung outward and daylight blinded them. Eric shielded his eyes, but Neil refused to show any shock or fear. The faces of the three young men came into view; two of them Neil recognized, the third, who must have been the driver, he'd never seen before. Their features looked hard, cruel now.

One of the guys laughed. "What the hell 'ave yeh been doin' back here?"

The other two surveyed Neil's face and added their own laughs.

"Come on. Get out or we'll drag yeh. There's nowhere to run and no one to yell fer, so jes' take it easy and don' be stupid." One of the guys motioned them to climb out, which both boys grudgingly did. They glanced at their surroundings, which appeared dismal; they were in a parking garage that was empty except for themselves, and the guys were leading them toward what proved to be a storage closet. The door was opened, they were shoved inside, and then they were locked up in the dark again. A thin line of gray light leaked through the bottom of the door, but it was hardly any help in the blackness. Neil and Eric listened intently to the conversation their captors were having beyond the storage room, but they caught very little before the voices faded as the guys walked off somewhere.

"They said something about a reward," Eric said.

Neil grunted. "I should've known. Bastards."

"Do you think there's a reward out for us?" Eric was more dumb-founded than angry. "You think people are looking for us? I suppose that's the only obvious conjecture. My gosh! I wonder how much it is! And how long do you think it's been out? If there's a reward for us, we should just turn ourselves in! I mean, I'm ready to go home, anyway." He added with a hint of sarcasm," I don't think I was meant to find what I was looking for, anyhow."

Neil grumbled something inaudible in frustration, and there was the sound of metal clicking against glass, followed by a sudden bright light. He'd found a bulb in the closet. The two looked at one another, then at what was around them, which was merely an assortment of cleaning supplies. "Even if we wanted to turn ourselves in," Neil carried on where Eric had left off, "I don't think it'd be possible, considering the circumstances." He waved a hand at their surroundings.

Eric sighed. "Yeah, obviously."

Neil sat down on the floor and leaned up against a shelf of buckets and bottles. "Anyway, I'm not going back."

Eric situated himself across from Neil. "I know you don't want to, but you've got to. Listen . . . what I said about your dad—I'm sorry, ok? I was wrong. You just made me really mad. I'm sure he loves you, even if he doesn't show it. Psychologists say—"

"Oh, don't mention them. My father always wants me to go see one, but it's him who needs the help—not me."

Inwardly, Eric knew that, had he not known Neil like he now did, he would've thought the guy needed a therapist, too. "Well, whatever you think, you must want to go back, even to see your friends."

Neil looked strangely at Eric. He snorted a laugh, but he paid for it in pain. Had he wanted to reply, he didn't, because he became refocused on waiting for the wave of hurt radiating from the center of his face to go away. It felt terrible, like a piece of cement had been shoved up into the bridge of his nose.

Eric gave him a sheepish look. "Geez, that looks awful. I'm really . . . sorry. I didn't mean to kick you in the face." Silence followed. Neil just sat with his eyes closed, wanting to ignore everything. "Does it hurt?"

"What do you think?" The redhead was angry to be in pain. What a waste of energy pain was. "Truthfully, Eric, I deserve it. Like I was trying to tell you before, this is my fault, because I planned the whole thing."

"What?"

"I . . . I didn't—don't—want to go home. I can't go back to my dad. The whole time we've been here, I've been thinking about how I could make myself disappear so I'd never be looked for—so I would never have to go back. While you were at the hospital, I . . . I went and met with two of those guys—the ones that grabbed us. I made a plan with them to abduct me or make it look like they killed me. You were supposed to witness it, but they were gonna let you get away, cause it was just supposed to be me. I'm sorry that you got dragged into this; I wouldn't have involved you at all, except I needed a witness, someone to say they'd seen me get killed or whatever, and then nobody would look for me and I'd just disappear."

Eric stared at Neil for what felt about five minutes. His expression was inscrutable. "You're an idiot," he said at last, much to Neil's surprise.

"Well—yeah—what?"

"A huge idiot. Do you really think that nobody would look for you?"

"I—"

"Even if I thought you'd been murdered or abducted, believe me, people would look for you. I bet you money your dad would be over here, and if he wasn't, then your godfather would be. And if he wasn't, then I'd get my parents over here and we'd look for you. It wouldn't matter what I thought happened—people would not just shrug their shoulders and say, 'Oh well, that kid's gone. Let's move on.' That's not how things work. Sheesh. You think I'd just forget about the only friend I've ever had?"

"The only friend . . . ?"

Eric frowned and looked at the ground. "What, do you think you're the only one that doesn't have any friends?"

Neil smiled a little in spite of himself. Eric wasn't mad at him. He pointed at his nose. "If this is how you treat your friends, it's no wonder you don't have any."

"I said I was sorry!"

Neil nodded. "I know, I know. Well, I got us kidnapped, and you broke my nose. Can we just call it even?"

"Hm. I guess. But only if we can actually try to get out of here and not just let these punks collect on our reward money."

"Deal."