Disclaimer: If I had fairy godparents, my first wish would be to own The Listener. Key word: IF…

This is written in Toby's POV except for the ending, which is in 3rd POV limited. Peace.

Warning: Same as the first chapter, there are small mentions of a spoiler from Episode 8 'One Way or Another'.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, that I didn't hear anyone enter. This, however, caused Ray to scare the hell out of me. I looked up at him with a shy smile and noticed that he had that face on. I didn't need to read his thoughts to know what he was thinking. But I guess he wanted me to know anyway.

'Toby, you know I'm worried about you. First, your power starts evolving, and then you start remembering your past. Where is all of this coming from? Is it something with your brother or your mom?' I close my eyes and softly chuckle at his anxiety.

"No, this has nothing to do with my mother or my brother," I heard a sigh of relief leave him as he sat down in the opposite chair.

"It's something else, isn't it? You sounded scared on the phone," he truly looked worried, making me feel even more insecure, "Well, let's get going if we're going to my place. We'll talk there." He stood up and I followed, picking up my coat and keys off the table before walking out the door. I locked the door behind me and we walked out of the apartment building and to his car in a comfortable silence.

Upon arriving at his house, we settled into his study and sat there, waiting for the other to speak up.

"You look exhausted, Toby. Does that have anything to do with the memories?" he calmly began our conversation. I rubbed my eyes and answered the question.

"No, I don't think so. I had to pull a double and there was this case-"

"What was the case about?" he interrupted. I messed with my hair for a few seconds, trying to piece my thoughts together.

"It was about a serial rapist, or so we thought. We found out that it was just a copycat." I might as well try beating around the bush for awhile.

"I see. Now, what memories are you remembering, if they're not before I met you?" This was the tricky part. It's therapy time.

"Well…Detective Marks and I were having a discussion about past encounters with the subject of the case and…" I looked down at the floor, "I remember my third foster home." There was silence. The silence that could give you headaches.

"That's completely logical for you to start remembering that dreadful time," he broke, "However, you are frightened and I just want you to know that I'm here for you. If you need anyone to talk to, I'm here, so don't be afraid to call for help." That made me laugh again.

"Ray, I called you. I know you're here for me. Thank you." I yawned as fatigue came over me again. I watched Ray get up and leave the room. I snuggled down into the couch, closing my eyes for a little while. I hugged the pillow closer to me.

Ray came back with a blanket and smiled at the sight. Twenty-five-year-old Toby Logan looked as innocent as a five-year-old when he slept. Ray draped the blanket over his slouched form and patted the younger one's dark head of hair. He walked over to the wall and turned off the lights. He left the room, headed towards his room for his own needed sleep. He just hoped Toby would be tough enough to break through the obstacles and not become crazy like his mother. But he had faith in the boy; Toby could overcome anything in his creepy life.