Who: Albert and Jamie What: Jamie's home, and Albert is worried sick. When: Monday afternoon, after this. Where: Jones household Rating: PG-13
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It was the single longest hour of Albert's life. The voicemail had been vague, only enough details to terrify him, send his mind loose with a thousand horrors of what exactly had happened to his son. Naked, in the back of Daniel's van? What the fuck happened? Was he assaulted? Raped? Alec didn't press charges, but mentioned nothing about Jamie's well-being. He shuddered, slamming his cellphone against the kitchen counter after listening to his voicemail for the seventh time. The screen splintered, breaking off into rippled webs.
He'd gotten the phonecall, and ever since, it'd been an absolute flurry of motion. Frantic phonecalls to Laura's cell, taking the steps two at a time until he rifled through Jamie's clothes, and then finally to pace near the door, trying to get ahold of Alec. He knew the sound of a car in the driveway, and immediately tugged open the door before he even heard the vehicle doors open. Jamie's head was pressed against the window, and Albert nearly choked on a relieved sob. He fisted his hands, tucking them against his sides, sniffing away the frantic crest of tears.