"But sometimes, the only thing you can do is hold on with your little, stubborn heart and have faith."

~Alison Malee~

I T H A D been six hours since Freya found out that Falcon was missing. She had called him at least one hundred times over the course of the day and each one went straight to voicemail. She was worried before, but now she was terrified.

Kendra had called the police an hour ago, relying on Freya for the details of the situation. After the filing of an official missing person report and the general exhaustion of the day, Freya's eyes were drooping closed but sleep refused to find her.

Her eyes were puffy from the constant slew of tears she had suffered over the last few hours and her heart ached from the absence of the boy she cared about more than anyone else in the world. Not for the first time, she wished her mother was here. Freya never knew her personally, but she knew what mothers were supposed to be like.

She curled into a tighter ball under her heavy blankets, sniffling as a new onslaught of tears threatened to appear. The feeling of emptiness in her bed seemed to have multiplied with the haunting knowledge that he may never fill it again. That hurt worst of all. The possibility that they never find him. The possibility that he was lost forever.

The possibility that he may never come back.

She didn't dare think of him dead. The thought lodged her breath firmly in her throat, unmovable until it banished from her mind. He wasn't dead. She had the feeling she'd know if he was.

A knock on the door had her pushing her lethargic body into a seated position as Kendra entered the room with a sad smile.

"An-anything?" Freya didn't dare let herself hope, but the question slipped out before she could restrain it.

Kendra's eyes grew softer - sadder - as she perched herself on the end of Freya's bed. She shook her head slowly, watching the little girl with cautious yet caring eyes.

"They're trying as hard as they can, darling," She spoke softly.

Freya's heart wilted and she didn't give any response, simply curling back under her covers as her mind grew numb. Kendra leaned forward, resting a hand on her upper arm as she rubbed the spot in a comforting gesture.

"They'll find him," The doubt in Kendra's words was palpable. "He can't have gone far."

Freya didn't have an answer, so she stayed silent, staring at her white painted wall. Kendra's hand slipped off her arm as she took in a deep breath, letting it out in a rush.

"Try and get some sleep," She whispered before pressing a kiss to Freya's temple and getting up to leave the room.

Freya didn't get any sleep, and all too soon it was morning. The light filtered in through her curtains, the faint aroma of ground coffee beans and breakfast foods filled the air, birds outside had begun their day, singing and chirping unique tunes as they flew past her window. Freya would think that it was the start to quite a lovely day, but Falcon remained absent and her heart continued pulsing in pain.

She didn't bother moving from her spot in the bed, not seeing any positives in leaving the one thing that was keeping her body warm. So she stayed. She stayed when breakfast was brought in, she stayed when breakfast was brought out, she stayed when Kendra attempted to coax her out with the promise of hot chocolate and biscuits, she stayed when lunch was brought in and she stayed during all other intrusions.

Until Kendra came back inside her room in a slightly rushed state.

"Get up, child," She pleaded. "You're father's going to be returning any moment now and I can't have you looking like this. He'll think I didn't even try and take care of you."

The maid gently grasped onto Freya's forearms, easily lifting her out of the bed. She landed clumsily on the ground, smoothing down her hair with a hand as she took in a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered closed as she swayed in her spot, a pounding headache making its presence known behind her eyes.

Why did she have to get up, again?

It felt like she had only closed her eyes for a moment, but once she opened them, Kendra had already laid out an outfit on the neatly made bed and was cleaning up the last tray of food that had been brought in. Freya stood in place, resembling a lost kitten as she stared after Kendra.

The maid stopped for a moment, placing a hand on her hip as she looked over the tiny girl. She let out a breath, her lips pressing together as she approached Freya.

"Come on," She coaxed. "Perhaps your father will be able to do something for that boy of yours."

Freya shook her head as she allowed Kendra to undress her.

"He wouldn't," She mumbled. "Not for him."

Kendra pulled a pink sweater over the girl's head, letting Freya poke her hands through the sleeves by herself before handing her a pair of jeans.

"You never know if you don't try, sweetheart," Kendra brushed the waves of hair out of Freya's face, placing a kiss to her temple.

Freya pulled on her jeans as the maid left the room. She knew her father would never help Falcon; he seemed to hate him, for whatever reason. Why would he help find someone he hated? He'd sooner throw a celebration.

Freya adjusted her clothes, the sound of a car door slamming shut outside catching her attention. At this point, she didn't care if it ended with tears and a furious father; she was desperate.

She bounded down the stairs, her palms clammy with nerves as the front door opened. Her father entered, a smile lighting his face as he noticed Freya by the staircase. Her step-mother entered a moment later.

It was now or never.

"Papa?" Freya squeezed her hands together in front of her like she was praying. Perhaps that would have done some good.

Her father raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue.

"Can-can I ask you something?" She held her breath as her heart thundered in her chest.

"Of course, princess," He grinned, leaving his case by the door and greeting her with a hug. "What do you need?"

She didn't know if she could do it. The words seemed stuck in her throat without a hope of being set free.

For Falcon.

"I need your help," She dug her nails into the palm of her hand. "To fi-find someone."

Her voice was breathy with nerves but she held fast. She had to do this. It wasn't about her and her feelings, it was about Falcon's safety. Nothing mattered more.

Her father's brow furrowed, his smile wilting.

"To find someone?" He echoed. "Who do you need to find?"

This was it.

"Falcon," The word escaped her lips before she allowed herself to think twice. It was out there now, let him react as he wanted.

A sour look passed over her father's features before he smoothed it over with a cool look.

"Ah," He unwrapped his arms from around Freya's form. "That boy."

Freya felt her chance slipping away so she spoke quickly.

"I don't know where he is, daddy," She looked up at him pleadingly. "I'm scared he's hurt."

The corner of her father's lip curled up in distaste and he took in a calming breath.

"He probably left of his own will," Her father began walking away. "Or got locked up. That's what happens to people like him. Good riddance, I say."

Freya felt frustrated tears sting the corners of her eyes as she ran after her father, pulling on his sleeve.

"You-you don't understand," Her voice began rising. "He wou-would have told me."

Her father let out a breath, turning to face the girl.

"Freya, sweetheart," His eyes softened as he took in her tears. "Falcon isn't a good person. He's not the kind of person who would take care of you or lead you anywhere good."

Freya's bottom lip trembled as her breaths shortened.

"Please, daddy," She begged. "Please."

Her father shook his head, gently uncurling her little fists from his shirt sleeve.

"If you can't find him, then he probably doesn't want to be found," He said softly. "Perhaps it's for the best."

Before either of them could fully comprehend what was happening, Freya's closed fists went flying towards her father's chest.

"No!" She screamed, eyes closed as she pummelled away, though it did little damage, it got her point across.

Her father tried to hold her back by grasping her forearms, but she twisted and wriggled until he let go and began hitting him again. Hot tears escaped down her cheeks as a sob ripped through her throat and she finally sagged in her father's arms.

"Please, daddy," She cried. "Please."

Her father opened his mouth to speak before pressing his lips together and letting out a defeated sigh as he closed his eyes.

"Okay," He looked down at Freya, her eyes red and glistening with tears that only worked to kill the last of his reluctance. "Okay. I'll see what I can do, alright?"

Freya sniffled, nodding her head weakly before wrapping her tiny arms around his waist.

"Thank you," She whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she sniffled again.

Pain.

Falcon's head throbbed as he began to wake. He felt like he had been hit by a semi-trailer. A few times.

He shakily pushed himself up from his position on the ground, leaning against the wall behind him as he brought a hand to the back of his head.

"Fuck," He hissed as his fingers skimmed over a particularly sore spot, his hand retracting quickly.

He grunted in pain as he pulled himself further up the wall. Every movement he made was met with one or more of his endless injured body parts to scream at him, cursing him for getting himself into this mess. All because he was scared. Scared he'd go back to juvie, scared he'd lose Freya-

Freya.

Shit.

She was probably worried sick. He didn't know how long he'd been out but he was sure it was at least the next morning. His poor girl. He suddenly hated his brother more than ever.

Footsteps from the front of the room caught his attention as light suddenly filled the room. Falcon shut his eyes on instinct before forcing them open, blinking a few times to adjust to the sudden contrast.

He squinted at the figure coming down the stairs, though once he realised who it was, he sagged against the wall, closing his eyes in irritation. His brother.

A slap was heard, most likely the devil himself rubbing his hands together in glee.

"Welcome home, Falcon," The man's voice grated against Falcon's every nerve.

He snorted, not bothering to open his eyes.

"What a warm fucking welcome this is," He rolled his eyes, though his brother couldn't see it.

"Just like old times, yeah?" Falcon's brother said.

Falcon heard his brother grow closer before he felt him sit next to him, letting out a breath of satisfaction.

"You've been a stranger," His brother said. "Didn't bother coming back once you got out of juvie. We all thought you had skipped town before we found you went back to school."

Falcon grunted in response. He had nothing to say to the asshole.

"Oh come on, brother," He shifted, bringing a faux-friendly arm around Falcon's shoulders. "We're your family-"

Falcon violently shoved off his arm, opening his eyes to glare at his so-called brother.

"Fuck off," He growled.

A gleeful smile lit up his brother's face.

"Okay, okay," He grinned. "I can see I've poked the wild bear. What's got you into such a mood?"

Falcon gritted his jaw furiously, biting down the urge to ruin his smug face.

"What's got me into a fucking mood?" He bit out. "Are you shitting me? You knock me out and then dare to call yourself my fucking family. Are you fucking serious?"

His brother held his hands up in a peaceful gesture, amusement shining in his eyes. He was about to speak but Falcon cut him off.

"And you call me a stranger?" He pushed himself off the ground. "You don't even know what's gone on at home. You haven't shown your face there for years. Did you even know that dad's in a coma? Do you even care, big brother?"

His brother dropped his hands with a sigh, a smile toying at the edge of his lips as he stood up.

"You always were the emotional one," He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall with one shoulder. "Father's not dead, is he? So why should it matter to me? That old man's a deadbeat, he never cared about us, why should we? You're the one I care about, Falcon. You're family. We're all each other has."

Falcon worked his jaw for a moment, his breaths coming in furious bursts as his heart beat painfully against the cage of his chest.

"Fuck you, Kace," He spat. "Fuck you."

Kace snorted, a wry expression coming over his face.

"Suit yourself," He smirked, making his way back upstairs. "But it's gonna be one cold, dark stay."