“I can’t let anything happen to you,” Malcolm whispers and, dream or not, he knows that to be true.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Lights. The groan of metal cables. He jolts, clutching Neal’s jacket as his eyes snap open.

He lifts his head and looks at Neal.

“But I have to wake up or I’m going to die.”

“Son, I think your head injury is worse than they thought. Maybe we should take you to th…”

“I don’t need the hospital!” Malcolm snaps loudly.

Martin puts up his hands amicably. “Well, then. Little family celebration at our house. Neal, you’ll come, I hope…”