With all but his deepest bruises patched up as well as Una could manage, Jules was determined not to let anyone see the pain in each unsteady step.

For Amy, he told himself, and wondered for a brief, uneasy moment why she had not come to see him. But when Badin transported him to within a block of his own home, he discovered that he wanted nothing more than to get back there.

"Jules?" his mother called as the door slid closed behind him. "Is that you?"

He answered by trudging into the dining room, where Amsha Bashir was already laying out plates. "Are you hungry?"

He shook his head, unwilling to talk, impossibly tired, and certain that he was close to tears. Mother stopped when she saw his face, and set down all that remained in her hands. But he shied away from her approach, unable to bear the sight of those wide, dark eyes. "Jules!" she called - too late - as he raced from view.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as he was alone, the boy dived for the safety and comfort of his bed. He lay face down, crying to the darkness until a large, round section of his pillow was soaked in pools of salt water. There was a soft tap on the door, and someone calling his name. But he ignored them both. His mother could enter at any time if she really wanted, but he wasn't sure why she would hesitate.

Rolling to one side, he was greeted by the far more welcome sight of his stuffed toy bear staring back at him. At least the touch of Kukalaka's soft brown fur was offering some comfort. Exhausted, wretched, and already desperately drowsy, he gathered the bear to him and toyed with one of its ears. "Hi," he whispered, grateful to find that his eyelids had started to droop.

His world was slowing down, dusky brown eyes closing steadily until even the smell of replicated curry drifting from the kitchen was not enough to drive away the fog of sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He awoke to the sound of his parents' voices rising and falling in the bedroom next door. Much of what they said was muffled; at first their words were fuzzy and unclear. But with his return to awareness, at least some part of it took on a shape that he could understand.

Curling tightly around Kukalaka, Jules kept his eyes closed, and listened.

"How can we possibly tell for sure," his mother was saying. "What about side effects, Richard? People say there can be…"

"Don't." Father cut her off with a sharp reply.

"But if something is truly wrong. Can't you see what that would mean?"

"I know exactly what that would mean," snapped Father. "But this isn't what's happening."

There was a long pause, but Jules could tell that it wasn't a happy one. He thought of the casing of the butterfly pupa, and of the creature growing within its dark shell. Eyes still closed, he scowled, and squirmed beneath the covers. Then he pictured Amy Tanner's face, sunlight playing on her tangled strands of dusty blonde hair.

Amy. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. Knocked from his place, Kukalaka tumbled to the floor. Jules scrambled out of bed, ignoring the dull ache at his side, and barely remembered to gather something warm to wrap over his loose fitting pyjamas.

Where'd these come from anyway? he asked himself before deciding that it didn't really matter. As likely as not, his mother or father had swapped them for his daytime clothes while he still slept. He felt a momentary flash of guilt, that he had not told them anything, but then he paused to consider. What would happen if he did?

Mother and Father will almost certainly stop you, he thought. They'll probably want to call the Metropolitan Security Force. Either way, they won't let you help Amy.

His mind raced, ideas crowding in so quickly that he barely had a chance to focus on one before another jostled it aside. Why had Badin been so keen to be rid of him? And if Amy really was as safe and well as he'd said, then where was she? And why hadn't Jules seen her since their encounter with the bald-headed stranger?

And when he thought about it, the stranger could have beamed away at any time, taking Amy with him. It made no sense that he had stayed.

"Torch," Jules whispered fiercely, tossing one into a brownish yellow carry bag. "Spare clothes. Blanket. City map." Acting on impulse, he even lifted Kukalaka from where he'd fallen and tucked him into a corner. He wasn't at all certain what particular use the teddy bear would be, but it just felt wrong to leave him behind.

His bedroom door whooshed open, but it sounded as though his parents were still too busy arguing to notice the noise. With his slightly frayed travel bag slung diagonally over one shoulder, he snuck into the hallway and tiptoed barefoot along the carpet.

His stomach grumbled as he passed the dining room. But he was close to certain that the distinctive whirr of the replicator would alert Mother and Father to his attempted escape. We can stop for food along the way. Somewhere, he promised himself. Until then, the safety of his friends was far more important than the plaintive call of his own stomach.

"Bye," he whispered, and noted that his parents had finally stopped arguing. Quietly, careful that not even the slapping of his own feet should reach their ears, he slipped through the door and turned to face the night.