It was far colder at night in Boston than in California, but Tim failed to notice. He'd had a nightmare, the vision of Lars' dead eyes staring back at him from the depths of a dream being enough to make him wake up, shaken and sweating despite the chill. He wished Dana or Hollywood had been awake, or more than anything that Jesse was there - liar or not. But the cold, dark room offered him no comfort; people passed out around the floor and couches only serving to remind him of the bodies in his nightmare. With no one to console him, Tim drug his shirt on over his head and left the room, following the spiralling ramp down to the main doors.

The doors closed almost silently behind him and he peered around at his surroundings. Normally, when he couldn't sleep, he would go wandering the city. But here he didn't have the slightest clue where he was, or how to get back if he did go walking.

"Hello," a young-sounding voice from his left called.

Tim glanced over, recognizing the thin form and the dark expressive eyes immediately. "Hey. Conor, right?"

"Mhmm," Conor confirmed. "But I don't think I know who you are."

"I'm Tim," he supplied.

Conor smirked a bit. "That's nice, but I still don't know who you are."

Tim just shrugged then, not sure of what to say to him and definately not in the mood to play games with his words. Instead, he crouched on the cement and leaned back against the building across the doorway from Conor.

"You wouldn't have a cigarette I could get from you?," he asked. Tim normally didn't smoke, but with the dream still haunting his memory and the cold, unfamiliar Boston streets reminding him of how alone he was, he figured there wasn't a better time to start.

"I would," Conor told him, uncurling his arms from around his tiny frame to dig into the pockets of his pants. He procured a beat-up, tattered pack of cigarettes and scampered the short distance to offer it to Tim. Tim took one, nodding to Conor in way of appreciation.

Tim felt around the pockets of his pants, hunting for a lighter. He felt one through the black material and unzipped the pocket, digging it out, As he did, he felt paper crinkling underneath his fingertips. Curiously, he lit the cigarette, coughing a bit then slipped the lighter back into his pocket and pulled out the peice of paper, folded in half. Glancing up at Conor briefly, Tim discovered that the younger man was now smoking as well, watching the smoke float through the night air and paying no attention to him, so he unfolded the paper and let his eyes flicker over the words scrawled there.

He didn't recognize the handwriting, but the tone of the words were enough to make Jesse's voice resonate through his mind. He read then carefully reread the words, remembering the morning he'd woken up to find Jesse writing.

'Somebody told me it was just too late
And the world's sealed up like a tomb
But in this very crypt the living still kick
Against the mortar till the air comes through
Am I on my own?
Won't you come along with me?
We could be the ones
To find a place that's free
Two hands clenched on the very last thread
That's one more than we need
With the other we will reach out
And we'll shatter this floor
Like an arc springing up from a reed
Can you see the spectral dust
Of the modern age laid bare?
When all the data adds up to nothing
We will find our heartbeats there'

Tim bit fiercely into his lower lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. He had all but forgotten about Conor until he cleared his throat. Tim looked up at him, knowing his expression gave away far too much, but Conor only smiled.

"Your sadness is beautiful," Conor remarked pleasantly.

Tim looked at him oddly. "Thanks, I guess."

"I was assuming you'd have someone else to thank for it," Conor stated, throwing a meaningful glance towards the peice of paper in Tim's lap.

"Uh, yeah," Tim agreed, still not sure what to make of Conor's strange behaviour. He refolded the paper and slid it back into his pocket.

"There's somewhere else you'd rather be," Conor suggested, and Tim nodded hesitantly. "So why are you here?"

Tim took a drag off of his cigarette, contemplating. "Safer here, I guess."

"That's not guaranteed," Conor told him assuredly.

"What about life is guaranteed?," Tim wondered aloud.

"Pain," Conor proclaimed. "That's all. Anything else - safety, happiness, whatever - is a blessing. I guess it's a question of priority, which blessing is more important."

Tim nodded distantly and Conor stood up.

"I hope some day you won't have to choose. You have a good heart," Conor said, pausing to lean down and press a kiss to the side of Tim's shaved head. "It was nice meeting you."

Conor noiselessly slunk back inside the building and Tim watched him, curiously. People in California weren't that weird, he mused, then retracted that thought and decided that only people who lived in the middle of the woods in a cave in California were that weird. Sighing heavily, he retrieved the peice of paper from his pocket and read it over and over until he'd finished smoking.

Although he'd tricked himself into believing he might be able to sleep again, Tim ended up staying awake. A fair bit after sunlight had begun to filter through the grungy windows, various people started to wake up. The first was the man he remembered as Jade, who got up and showered and left without a word or any indication that he noticed Tim's presence. Not long after he'd left, Matt woke up and asked him if he wanted to get something to eat. Agreeing, the pair headed downstairs to the abandoned restaurants to raid the fridges.

Halfway through a plate of eggs and bacon, they were joined by Benji and Dana.

"You look like hell," Benji greeted him politely.

Tim smirked self-depreciatingly. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep," he told him.

"Aww, Timothy-love. Did you have a nightmare?," Dana asked with concern as she sat down next to him. Tim nodded and she patted his head lovingly. "Me, too, just didn't wake up."

Matt offered them some coffee but they both declined. So, Matt poured himself another cup and lit up a cigarette. There was relative silence, broken by the sound of cars moving outside and people moving inside. Dana looked up from a bite of eggs to point at a door near the back of the room with her fork.

"What's back there?," she asked Benji. "You didn't tell us yesterday."

Benji shrugged. "Used to be used for storage, now it's mostly empty. Why?"

"Curious," she shrugged. "I saw a couple of guys heading back there last night, just wondering."

Matt looked up, a scowl half-formed on his face. "Which guys?"

"Uhm...Jade, and some guy with bleached blonde hair."

"Hunter," Benji supplied. "He's...weird."

"Very strange," Matt agreed gruffly. He glared at the door Dana had indicated for a moment, then pushed back his chair. "Well, you kids want to check out some more of Boston? I've got some shit to pick up."

"Sure," Tim agreed with a shrug, glancing at Dana who nodded. They cleaned up breakfast, and along with Benji, set out to peruse the streets of Boston.