The shop was bustling. Dennis wound his way through the aisles, keeping his head down. He knew it was risky being out in public; although the news had already moved onto another flavour of the month disaster, there was still the chance someone would recognise him. He'd not had an opportunity to stretch his legs in a while and since he'd had to run an errand anyway, he decided to luxuriate in the momentary freedom. Besides, he had long ago learned that the best place to hide was in plain sight. The art store wasn't his typical haunt but it was the right combination of busy and understaffed that he could wander undisturbed.

He stopped in front of a shelf of coloured pencils and took his time examining them before selecting a pack. A large sketch book joined the pile before he made his way over to the register. A girl around Casey's age was working there. Dennis joined the short queue, looking over the girl. She was relatively cute, with curling red hair and bright green eyes. Each customer that came up was greeted with a bright smile, a dimple emerging at the corner of her mouth.

So happy. So normal.

Nothing, compared to Casey.

Dennis smiled slightly to himself, looking down at his shoes. It had been a few days since his… moment with Casey. He wasn't sure what to refer to it as. She had seemed different that day. Maybe she was finally beginning to warm to their presence.

"Excuse me?"

He looked up sharply to see that the girl was looking to him expectantly. He approached, setting the pencils and sketchpad down on the counter.

"Sorry. I was in a world of my own," he apologised.

"It's alright. Having a good day?"

"Yes. Getting better every minute."

"Glad to hear it." She scanned the items, taking her time. "Nice set."

"Do you do gift wrap by any chance?"

"I can. For someone special?" the girl asked as she began to wrap them.

"Yes…" He smiled to himself again. "Very special."

"Well, they're very lucky."

Dennis didn't speak, just quietly paid and took the package from the girl. Her fingers brushed his as she handed it over, giving him a coy smile as she did.

He tucked the package under one arm and left, heading out onto the street. It was early evening. The sky was stained with colours as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. It was starting to rain and the light droplets felt good on his skin. He took his time walking back, humming tunelessly to himself and drumming his fingers against the side of the package.

Dennis…

Patricia was stirring and he grimaced to himself. The woman had no patience.

You are dawdling…

I am walking.

I don't like leaving the girl unattended.

She isn't going anywhere Patricia. Her leg is still damaged and the doors are locked. She is hardly going to find a way to spontaneously disappear, she's not Houdini.

I detect sarcasm.

I should have made it more obvious.

He quickened his pace as he passed by the train station, eyes down. Just being in the area was unpleasant. His increase in speed seemed to pacify Patricia as she fell silent.

It didn't take much longer for him to make it back to their home. Everything was as it had been left and Dennis tried to keep an 'I told you so' from his thoughts. No need to further aggravate Patricia. They did have to work together after all.

Want me to see if our young friend has learned how to apparate?

Have you been reading Hedwig's books again or are you just spewing nonsense?

Dennis rolled his eyes and went to the door of Casey's room. He unlocked it and let himself in. Casey was curled up in the bed, eyes closed and seemingly asleep.

Well, will you look at that.

Dennis, I am going to have to ask you to watch your tone. In fact, I think it's time you stepped out of the light, you're clearly tired and need to rest. I know that my Dennis would never speak to me like that.

He tried to block her out and ignore her but her voice broke through every barrier he put up. His only consolation was that he wasn't doing anything important, anything that he wouldn't want to be interrupted during.

Patricia, I am fine. I apologise for my tone but it's rather difficult to concentrate with you persistently talking. If you sleep, I can complete the necessary tasks much quicker.

She didn't respond but she also didn't have him thrown from the light so he decided to take it as a victory and get on with his work. Given Casey's recent increase in mobility, it had been decided that further security measures would be needed so he was adding locks to a number of the doors and replacing any areas where the wood had begun to rot or weaken. Dennis had always been good with his hands and he enjoyed fixing things. He'd already made a number of improvements to their temporary home in the short time Casey had been there and it had begun to feel much more homely... as homely as it was possible to feel in a basement at any rate. The layout reminded him of a house boat. The main space was one long corridor with the various amenities built in. The only exceptions were the bathroom, kitchen and a few former storage spaces off the main hall. He'd got rid of the camp bed and furnished the room with bunks for each of them, set up in such a way that they could be used as sofas during the day. Each was fitted with a curtain to at least give the feeling of privacy, even if the only other people around where ones a curtain wouldn't block out.

As he worked, he became aware of a noise coming from Casey's room. He paused, cocking his head to one side. The noise was faint but recognisable as crying.

Setting down his tools, he went over to the door and pressed his ear to the wood. Yes, there it was. Definite sounds of distress.

Dennis let himself in quietly. Casey was asleep but far from peaceful. She was groaning and whimpering as she fought off some imaginary foe. He stood in the doorway, conflicted. She looked younger than usual; her defences stripped away to leave the vulnerable child she really was. The blankets tangled around her lower half and her top had become pushed up during her struggles, exposing a slim sliver of pale skin.

Dennis closed the door quietly and moved silently to the bed. He hesitantly lowered himself until he was lying beside her. The bed was narrow and the two could barely fit, forcing him to press in close to avoid falling off. His hand rested at her waist and their legs tangled lightly.

Gradually, her breathing slowed and her face became calmer. His fingers gently stroked the bare flesh, feeling the raised scars that marred her otherwise perfect canvas. Anger and fear radiated off them and for a moment, in his mind's eye, he saw her as she had been. Small, broken, bleeding. Desperately pressing something sharp and silver against her skin as tears ran down her cheeks.

He found himself exposed to something he hadn't felt before. A warm feeling in the pit of his stomach that swelled whenever he looked down at the sleeping girl. He wasn't sure what it was… some kind of kinship? He saw something in her that was more than just a knowledge of her purity or his desire for her. It was familiarity. She reminded him of himself… of Kevin. Sometimes he struggled to distinguish his memories from Kevin's. He had been the first, the first splinter in Kevin's mind and he had endured as much as the young boy had. They were barely two people then. But gradually, as Kevin had come to depend on him more, he had grown into something new. Those first months though… they were a blur, the two men's pasts intersecting indiscriminately. Maybe that was why he felt this way around Casey. He knew her pain, he had felt it. They were one and the same.

In a way, she had as many different sides to her as the horde did, but none of them were real. Lying in the bed with her in his arms, he felt like he was finally getting a glimpse of who she really was.

You're projecting Dennis

The voice wasn't one of the others, it was his own thoughts. For once it wasn't part of an internal conversation and he could actually think clearly. He tried not to want things. He'd never really had the opportunity, passed the occasional fleeting desire for a pretty girl. He'd been born to protect Kevin from his mother. And then, he was there to serve the Beast. Whenever he thought he might want something different or just… more than he had currently, Patricia would always sharply remind him of his duty. The Beast was the future of mankind but did that have to mean he couldn't have a life outside of serving him?

He was jealous. And that was dangerous.

He knew that he should get up, walk out of the room and lock the door. He knew that if Patricia found out what he was doing or what he was feeling, she would be furious. But he just couldn't bring himself to move.

One more moment won't harm anyone.

One moment could change everything. One moment was the difference between life and death.

Reluctantly, he unwound his arm and got to his feet. He tucked the blankets carefully around the slumbering girl, smoothing them down to remove any ripples or creases in the fabric. At least she was still asleep, and seemingly calmer now.

Retreating from the room, he felt a sick churning sensation in his gut. Guilt. He hadn't done anything, not really. But he still felt guilty. Once the door was locked securely, he sank onto his own bed. It was natural for him to feel that way about the girl. She was young and like Kevin, she had suffered. That was all. It was the same need to protect that had first caused him to emerge, of course it would dominate when he saw someone in such a similar state.

That was all.

His fingers drummed against the side of the bed as he stared up at the ceiling. It would get easier. Once the Beast came and laid claim. Once everything was in place and they weren't in such restricted quarters. He told himself that over and over again but couldn't quite make the words ring true.