Revised Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Finn woke up by inches, groggy and unsure. Weird dreams flitted in and out, changing places and people. Thoughts came and went so fast he couldn't hold onto them, and through it all he just knew that he felt odd, disconnected somehow. Slowly he became aware enough to realize that he was hurting. Feeling a sick headache he decided to go back to sleep, but his eyes tried to blink without asking him first, habit maybe. Uncomfortable, his eyes felt like large rubber balls glued into his sockets, dry and stuck. He managed a groan.

Nothing. No comforting murmur. No one to tell him he didn't have to get up for school. Just beeping sounds, and a lot of dull pain. Now that he was aware of the pain, it started to grow. Pain was everywhere, even his facial muscles ached as he winced. What was that beeping? It wasn't his cheap alarm clock.

"Awake." The voice was cold. Finn stopped moving immediately, holding his breath until his lungs burned. He knew who was with him, and with immediate clarity he realized where he must be. Hospital. Finn thought about playing dead or asleep, but that didn't always stop Justin when he was in a foul mood. So Finn tried to blink his eyes open again. They were still dry and the light streaming in from what must be a window was a bit much. So he laid there, eyes watering from the too bright sunlight and stared up at the nondescript ceiling.

Justin leaned in and stared down coldly, his blue-green eyes angry. He made a clucking sound with his tongue. "So. The hero awakens."

Ah. Finn eyed his younger brother with resignation, trying to focus through the headache. Hero. Yeah, that would be enough to set off sweet little Justin. Anything that pulled attention away from his brother, was wrong and needed to be destroyed. Finn was too familiar. All attention, all adoration was Justin's by default. Any deviation was not tolerated.

"What should the title be today? Firestarter? Dirty Harry? Dream in a Dusky Dawn? Gut Shot Hero? Hmmm?" Cold. The voice was frigid.

Finn sighed, feeling the dryness of his throat and wincing. His voice sounded hoarse as he spoke. "First one was used already, second one is a character. Last one sucks. But Dream in a Dusky Dawn?"

Justin shrugged. "My newest short story."

Finn nodded absently. "Too many D words. How about Devil in a Dark Dawn instead? Since you like D words this week. Have you managed to write this one yet?" It was a low blow as Justin always had grand ideas for stories, but they never made it past seven pages.

Instead of answering Justin simply held up an I.V. line. His. Finn watched, his fingers curling into the sheets of what had to be a hospital bed. The fourteen year old bent the tubing, cutting off the flow of fluid. A machine began to 'beep' as if to protest. Justin looked over and smiled. "Alarm? Let's see." He pushed a button on the box attached to the pole beside the bed. The beeping noise ceased.

Finn reached out with his free arm, grabbing at Justin's hand. The young blonde smiled darkly. "Oh? Finally growing a pair? Gonna stop me? What are you going to do? Set me on fire?"

Tightening his hand on Justin's made his own fingers go numb with cold. The harder he pressed, the sharper the pain. Finn wondered how he could be so screwed up in the head he couldn't bring himself to lay a hand on his vicious brother, even to defend himself. It was a long standing source of frustration. His eyes flicked to the bag hanging from a pole. He let his hand drop back down to the bed, his side starting to sting though the headache was still far more painful. How come it was his head that hurt the worst, when that isn't where he'd been shot in the first place?

Justin stared into Finn's dark eyes as he continued to squeeze the I.V. line. "How did you burn things back there in the store?"

"Didn't." Finn objected in a weary voice.

"Did." Justin frowned at the I.V. pump. Nothing was happening. And the machine had started up making beeping noises again. Justin jabbed the alarm button off once more, scowling.

"Cutting off fluids isn't exactly lethal." Finn croaked out the words, then regretted it as Justin's blue eyes slitted maliciously.

Finn had a moment to wonder, to curse himself for being unable to act, when Justin gave a sudden jerk on the I.V. line. The move took him completely by surprise. The line was connected to a type of needle, which was in turn connected to Finn's forearm. Rather, it was in his arm. The sharp and sudden pain of removal had him crying out, clutching his arm as he glared at his younger brother.

"How did you burn the ..."

The door behind Justin opened, and the fourteen year old didn't even hesitate, his words changing as his voice escalated. "Finn! Don't yank that out, you can't just leave!" The blonde sociopath made a kissing motion with his mouth where no one but his brother could see before turning toward the door, crocodile tears in his expressive eyes. "He won't listen to me!"

The nurse hurried in without a word and pushed a call light, even as she started pressing buttons on the I.V. pump. She pulled on gloves and grabbed some sterile pads, tearing open the packets as she applied pressure to Finn's arm. She was not smiling.

"That wasn't terribly smart." A dry voice commented from the doorway.

Finn looked up to see a rather short man in a white coat. The stereotype of a doctor wasn't far off the mark, he thought rather randomly. Coat, name tag, stethoscope, glasses. The man was stocky and had hazel eyes with dark wavy hair cut almost too short, steel gray poking through all over. And Finn knew him.

"Dr. Michaels." His voice sounded relieved, though still raspy.

"Finn Michaelson." The doctor stressed the last name. As well he should, since he'd given it to both the abandoned children fourteen years prior. He turned to look at the rather distraught looking young teen, shifting his weight nervously back and forth. "Justin? Are you alright?"

"Yes ...yes, sir. I think so."

Finn rolled his eyes at the tremble Justin had managed to put into his voice. He wondered if any of the other 'great' actors in Hollywood were actually sociopaths in disguise.

"I heard a bruised shoulder and a bump on the head with some cuts, and that was just for starters, hmm?" Dr. Michaels continued, looking into Justin's eyes even as the nurse finished up with Finn, putting something square and sticky over his arm where the I.V. had been pulled loose. She sent him a rather sour 'don't mess with this' look and then patted his shoulder in a 'heed me' manner.

"I got shot." Finn sounded petulant, even to himself. The nurse at least lost her frown and she nodded, gently holding up a large pink plastic cup with a straw. Water.

"You got lucky." Dr. Michaels said without looking at the older boy, patting Justin on the uninjured shoulder before turning to glare at Finn as the nurse let him drink a few sips. His throat, instead of being soothed, protested. The ice water irritated him somehow, making his mouth ache. He shook his head at taking any more.

"Don't mess up my handiwork." The nurse pointed at Finn, but was giving him a reassuring smile. "Doctor." She acknowledged as she left the hospital room, closing the door behind her.

"I still got shot." The teen told Dr. Michaels, his tone rife with great irritation. He pushed aside the fact that calling attention to himself was like waving a red flag in front of Justin. It galled too much to be ignored completely.

The doctor moved closer to look down at Finn, his eyes not ungentle. "You were grazed pretty badly. No internal injuries, thank goodness. We checked. Tore a chunk out of your side. You lost some blood there."

Finn grunted, actually feeling dizzy with relief that the bullet hadn't gutted him or something equally as gory. He'd known not to put too much weight on Justin's words, calling him gut shot. But he had wondered. It was also nice to know he'd kept all his original parts. Still, there was another thought haunting him. "The clerk?" He asked, remembering the awful way the man had fallen, looking completely lifeless.

Dr. Michaels nodded with a sniff, even as he pulled out a penlight to check Finn's pupil responses. "I'm not your surgeon or your doctor, but habits die hard. Your eyes look good. Better than the store clerk." The man sighed deeply. "He survived, by the way. Lucky as crap. The robber was too nervous to aim straight."

Justin laughed mockingly, hearing that. "You didn't have to push me out of the way after all, Finn. The man would have missed. You hurt me for nothing."

At this, the doctor turned and actually frowned at the younger teen. "I said the clerk survived, not that he didn't get shot. He could still lose his eye and we're hoping we don't have to crack open his skull to keep the swelling from pressing too much on the brain. He's got a long road ahead of him."

Justin's laughter faded as he acted contrite. Dr. Michaels' expression softened. "Don't worry so. Your brother was there to protect you."

Finn watched as behind the doctor's back, Justin made a face of anger, baring his teeth.

Dr. Michaels looked back down at Finn and sighed. "And what were you doing skipping school and dragging your little brother along with you? Finn, I'm very disappointed, son."

Son. Finn's throat closed up for a moment and he couldn't respond. Michaels. Michaelson. This doctor, who had been doing his residency in the ER that night, had treated both Finn and Justin all those years ago. And he had cared enough to name them after himself, since there was no name or record of who they could be.

"That's not how it was." Came a whispered response from the blonde behind him. The doctor turned, obviously surprised. "I ....I ran off and Finn followed me. Tried to talk me into going home, but I ...was upset."

Finn blinked a few times in surprise. Then he sighed. Oh, yeah. If you can't be the one who got shot, be the one at fault. He waited for the response. Attention in any form was like a drug to the fourteen year old.

"Justin?" A wealth of sympathy was in the doctor's voice.

Finn bit his tongue. Yep. He gave up, closing his eyes as Dr. Michaels reassured Justin that the whole incident wasn't his fault. Oh sure, but it had been Finn's fault when it was assumed that he'd been the one come up with the idea of skipping school.

"May I intrude?" It was structured like a question, but the uniformed officer didn't bother to wait for a response before coming in.

Finn felt nothing but tired as he eyed the blue-suited man standing in the open doorway. He frowned out of habit alone. "If I said no?"

"I'd intrude anyway." The officer's tag read Ryeman. He was completely bald, but not old. Did the man shave his head or something? Not only that, but he looked like a boxer dressed up in a blue uniform rather than like a real cop. His face seemed as if it had gone a round or three too, while his skin showed that either he was deeply tanned or that his genetics were varied.

"Who broke your nose?" Finn asked, testing the waters.

"Which time?" The officer clicked his pen, appearing unperturbed by the question.

Dr. Michaels took charge of Justin, encouraging the younger teen to leave with promises of hot chocolate in the cafeteria. The door shut behind them on Justin's protests that he wanted to stay and 'support my brother'.

The room didn't actually fall quiet. The hum and whir of machinery was everywhere, even with the I.V. pump turned off. The clock, the whir of something unseen working, and even the bed made noises as Finn shifted himself up. Wincing, he groaned.

"Let me." The officer reached out and pressed a button on the bed control that Finn hadn't even known was there. The head of the bed rose up behind him, letting him rest while still sitting up.

Finn thanked the officer, feeling stupid that he hadn't realized the bed had controls. He looked at the man's name tag and waited. It was always better to say less rather than more when talking to law enforcement. They tended to turn your words around on you. He hadn't learned that solely from watching t.v. shows either.

"Tell me what happened?"

"Did your wife break your nose?" Finn asked, sliding around the question out of habit.

The officer smiled coolly. "No. She was my ex-wife at the time."

Finn actually cracked a smile at that.

"I'm Detective Ryeman and I'm looking into what happened at the convenience store. Can you tell me, well ...everything?" The man looked stern, but not unapproachable. And a big plus? Finn had never dealt with him before.

Finn eyed the other man for a moment, taking his time. "I thought detectives wore suits?"

"Oh we do." The detective nodded without smiling. "We also have uniforms, depending on what the job requires. You're not my only task today."

The teenager nodded and took a deep breath before telling the detective what had happened from the moment the boys had entered the convenience store's parking lot. Though he left out the unnatural heat wave inside him, though he did describe how the world went colorless. Justin's questions about burning things and insistence that it had been Finn's doing made him more cautious.

The officer let him recite it twice before he started asking questions, digging for details. Backing Finn up over and over again, going slowly over every step. The teen went along with the questioning, mostly telling the truth about it all. But his head was starting to hurt more and more, and the ache in his side was growing persistent.

The officer nodded and looked up finally, pinning Finn with a long look of patience. "Now. What aren't you telling me?"

Unsurprised, Finn shook his head and shrugged. Questioning techniques 101 according to police shows.

"Why did you skip school?" The man's tone seemed friendly enough, but Finn just closed his eyes and shook his head again. He winced, his headache felt like it was getting worse.

"I need something for pain." It wasn't a lie.

The detective gave him a solemn look, but then pulled up a cord with a red button on the end and pushed it. "We'll see if they'll let you take anything. In the meantime, why did you decide to skip school?"

"Because." The teen avoided the question. "Look, I've already answered this question and I'm starting to feel sick, here." He leaned slightly left, to ease the ache in his right side and stopped immediately as the pain increased instead. He settled back against the bed, feeling clammy and weak. His skin seemed to break out with chill bumps.

"Did you know the store was going to be robbed?" The officer asked matter-of-factly, little inflection in his deep voice.

Shocked, Finn's eyes flew open wide in real surprise. That was not a question he'd anticipated. "No." Came the automatic, if stunned, response. "That's stupid." Why was the man asking that? Nothing in his past record with the police indicated anything like that!

"Is it?" Detective Ryeman cocked his head to one side, watching Finn very carefully. "You did quite a number on the perpetrator."

"Yes, may I help you?" A thin voice came over a small speaker housed in one of the bed rails.

The detective nodded as he spoke. "Kid wants something for pain."

"Let me check to see what the doctor's ordered, I don't know if it's time to take another dose yet." The voice said and disappeared.

The detective sighed and looked pointedly at the teen once more. "You took him down. Hard." He said, refusing to be deterred from his questions.

"He shot me!" Finn protested, waving his hand awkwardly at the officer as if to make him go away. "Ask him, damn it. No, I don't know him. No, I didn't know he was going to be there, and I sure as hell didn't know I was going to be shot today."

"Yesterday."

The response startled Finn badly. "Y ...yesterday?" His eyes flew to the blinds covering the window, hints of afternoon sunlight peeking through. He'd missed a day?

The officer nodded grimly. "The pain medication they gave you after surgery really knocked you out, kid."

"Surgery? But Dr. Michaels said I was only grazed." Finn's stomach turned over sickly. The throbbing in his right side grew exponentially worse just thinking about it all.

"Took a chunk out of your side. I hear they thought you might have managed to spring an internal leak, but didn't find anything. Interesting scar you'll have, but all in all, not bad. Especially compared to the other fellows." The officer paused. "You don't remember me asking you questions following the surgery?"

Mutely, Finn just shook his head. Why hadn't Dr. Michaelson mentioned this to him? His hand went to his side, and then he hesitated, afraid to actually touch. And what 'other fellows' was he talking about? The clerk, sure ...but not the bad guy, surely?

"Me and the clerk got shot." Finn's voice sounded weak, even to himself.

The officer grunted, then sighed as he watched the sixteen year old very carefully. "Your eyes were open, but you weren't seeing anything. I wasn't sure what was going on. Your social worker said you used to look like that as a kid, whenever separated from your brother. Justin? That's his name?"

Finn barely managed a nod. Shock piling up on shock. He'd gone catatonic? He hadn't done that since the last time the state had tried to separate the boys into different homes, but that had been years ago! That incident had been a social worker's nightmare. One child screaming himself hoarse until nearly passing out, while the other had simply ceased to move or react. So they'd been placed together, though no one had been quite sure what would happen when Finn started school without his younger brother. But they had somehow managed. Justin had cried a lot those first few weeks, and Finn had gone really quiet at school. But it had eased up after a while. Now? As teens? Not too bad of a problem. In fact, Finn had dared to hope those days of brother needing brother were over with, something they'd grown out of at the very least.

"Your breathing improved and your eyes closed when they finally allowed Justin in to see you." The officer spoke almost gently. "So I've heard." His voice made it clear that he knew more than he was saying. Common cop practice, Finn surmised.

The teen didn't like this conversation anymore, feeling edgy and uncomfortable, unsure of what the detective wanted. "So why do you think I had anything to do with the robbery?" He changed the subject quickly, almost desperately, his tone of voice vaguely challenging.

Detective Ryeman twitched his mouth slightly and shrugged, he was obviously not impressed with a touchy teenager. "Just checking it all out. You did a number on the man who shot you. Like you were trying to shut him up."

"Or stop him from shooting me again!" Snapped the teen, fear turning into straight anger.

The officer studied the youth for a long moment, as if making up his mind about something. "You have some paper on you, kid. Vandalism, truancy, minor scuffles ....fires."

Finn kept his mouth shut. The vandalism had been Justin, so had the fires. Skipping school? Yeah, a few times. Sometimes with Justin, once or twice just to get away. Scuffles? "Defending myself."

"Or defending your brother?" The officer asked pointedly. Finn didn't respond and the officer shook his head. "Back to yesterday, you broke the perpetrator's hyoid bone. Nearly killed the man, as it is he's having trouble swallowing and speaking. Pretty much compromised the airway according to the docs."

"He shot me." Finn weakly offered the excuse as a defense, his mind reeling. He remembered wrapping his hands around the man's throat, just as he recalled the heat that had filled him with strength and energy. He could even remember the sick feeling when something had seemed to break beneath his grip. Had he really managed to do that much damage to the man?

"How did his neck get burned?"

Burned? Finn's mind stumbled away from the word not wanting to think about that, or the strange heat he'd felt. Yeah, he was glad he hadn't mentioned that part to Detective Ryeman earily. He blinked, stalling while wishing he was anywhere else but here. Looking away from the detective, Finn stared at a wall and gritted his teeth. How could the man have gotten burned, how could anything have burned? That heat had just been adrenaline and fear, hadn't it? Only imaginary, not real. Definitely not real.

"Know nothing, huh?" The officer clicked his pen a few times. "Okay. Start over. Why were you boys skipping school again?"

Finn closed his eyes, feeling his headache worsen. It was like a drum beat in his head, pounding away. As if someone were trying to break out of his skull from the inside.

"Mr. Michaelson?"

Who? Oh, him. As if calling him 'mister' would make him answer any differently. "I told you." Finn swallowed hard, feeling as if he were about to throw up.

"Tell me again." The detective said evenly.

Finn's head felt ready to burst as he opened his eyes. Gray. The wall had lost all color. Hadn't it been white? And the wall looked almost transparent, like a plastic sheet rather than anything solid. He could just about see through the wall, as if it only existed in the abstract. Like a layer of film. He looked away, toward the ceiling. Clouds? Inside a hospital room? His eyes flicked this way and that, his fear and unease escalating as he could see nothing but layer after layer of partially transparent gray film. Clouds that started on one layer, but didn't continue to the next. One such layer had an antenna spiraling upwards, but in another there was nothing but empty sky.

A largish bird appeared to be flying within one of the many tiers of layers, desperately Finn focused on that one thing. Maybe if he centered his mind on one thing, then everything else would settle down. His eyes sought out the bird, trying to see beyond the dim gray haze covering his vision. He concentrated on the feathers and the more he looked, the sharper the image became. White belly feathers and black tips along the wings. Predator. Small dark eyes missing nothing on the ground below as it searched for prey, food. So simple. So removed from worry other than the next mouthful. Finn felt his mind want to fly away, just like that bird. Away from all of this. Away from his life. Free. Something in him seemed to slowly unfurl, moving with increasing speed as if reaching out from himself. Faster and faster until he was almost away, almost free, only to slam headfirst into a mental wall of some kind.

Pain doubled and redoubled his headache as Finn forgot how to breathe for a moment. Fatigue bit him deeply and consciousness wavered as if he might pass out.

His lungs seized and he opened his mouth, air rushing back in to inhabit his body once more. Three great gasps escaped him before his lungs seemed to catch on that they were to go back to working properly.

"Kid? This isn't over yet. Ignoring me won't work by the way." A pause as if the detective was thinking things over. "Look, I'm calling in the nurse, but if you're having me on this will not ..."

Finn managed a deep breath and opened his suddenly gritty and dry feeling eyes. Either he was swaying or the world was. Most likely it was him. The colors remained gone, the gray films still haunting him. The bird he'd been concentrating on was simply a wash of gray over gray again. Bitter disappointment ate at him as he continued to ignore the man standing next to his bed.

He glanced one more time at the soaring bird, but he didn't try to wish himself there again. Yet it was no easy task to let go of that desire to be free. Finn looked at the bird one more time, watching as powerful wings beat against the sky and against gravity. Feathers. Feathers and delicate bones and muscles, defying the laws of gravity and carrying the creature high into the sky to look archly down at the world laid out before him. Finn's heart ached, wanting to be there, to be able to shriek out his own defiance to the world around him. To be the predator, not the prey. To fly. And with that last thought, something within him that had unfurled earlier, simply reached out without command and instead of pushing him toward the sky, it pulled.

His vision went blank and it worried him for a second before he realized he'd closed his eyes completely. At the same time, something deep within him felt like it was tearing open. Heat seeped out into his muscles once more. But this time it wasn't a flood of hot energy and it didn't bring that urge to move, or to fight. This was just pure relief. His headache started to fade, and his lungs opened up, allowing him to breathe deeply once more. Sheer relief from the pain had him forgetting about the gray worlds and it's soaring inhabitant for a moment. Until the sound shocked him back to reality.

The sharp shriek that clearly wasn't human and the sound of rustling feathers startled Finn's eyes open just as something knocked over the cup of ice water the nurse had left behind on his bedside table.

Stunned, both he and the police detective stared at the furious bird with it's sharp beak and predator's eyes.

"What in the damn world?" The detective backed away from the bird as it angrily flapped it's wings, his dark eyes looking around the room as it squawked loudly.

Finn's stomach dropped. He'd done that. He had done that. But how? He stared in wide-eyed amazement and fear. Fear turned to panic and the sixteen year old scrambled up in his bed, pushing with his feet while ignoring the pain from his recent injury. His arms pushed the air away from him, like he was warding off something evil. That heat which had filled him just moments ago seemed to flow through him through his hands and out of his body. His mind rejected what his eyes were seeing and with all his being, Finn pushed. At nothing.

The door to his hospital room opened and his same nurse from earlier hurried in carrying another cup of water and a smaller cup, presumably with some medication. "How much pain are you in?" She frowned sharply.

Finn's eyes went from her face, back over to where the large bird had been not a moment before. Nothing. Nothing. He'd only imagined it. An hallucination. Relief made his muscles tremble and suddenly all his pain came flooding back, making him gag for a moment.

A cup of water was pushed in front of his mouth and he fought, pressing his lips together. "Too cold." He protested weakly.

Not missing a beat the nurse put the cup with the ice water down and picked up an earlier cup, where the ice was now nicely melted and the water closer to room temperature. "It'll be four hours before you can have anything more, but if you are still in pain let us know so we can get the doctor in here to check on you."

Pills swallowed and blankets smoothed, Finn slid back down into the bed. "I still hurt." He protested.

The nurse smiled at him. "It'll take a few minutes to kick in. You need to rest." The last word was stressed and her eyes slid to the detective still standing in the room.

Finn's eyes followed the gaze of the nurse and he stopped breathing again. The detective was holding up a rather large white feather with black edging on the tip. Hallucination. It had to have been. So what was the feather still doing here, in his hospital room?

"Kid? Mr. Michaelson? Where did that bird come from? And where did it go?" Finn blinked rapidly and shook his head. Not good. Not good at all.

All too quickly it became overwhelming and Finn's stomach could take no more as it churned and nausea took over reflexively. He barely managed to turn away and hang his head over the bed rails.

Detective Ryeman jumped clear with a look of disgust and concern as Finn emptied his stomach onto the floor. He was only vaguely aware of the officer and the nurse both yelling, at each other as well as for other people.

Sousa

Sousa Whittal twisted her fingers together, hidden in the deep pockets of her favorite jacket. Not much could get her to enter a hospital willingly and she was feeling jumpy.

Her younger sister, Mac, looked up at her in sympathy. "Mom said to wait in the lobby." She pointed out with the clear logic of a nine year old, almost ten thank you very much.

Sousa steeled her expression, not wanting to worry the younger girl. But she knew something was wrong, at least it felt wrong. Edgy, she took a deep breath to steady herself. "Mom knows where we're heading."

"They said he's okay." Mac said quietly, her small hand reaching up to tuck into the space between her sister's side and her arm.

Sousa nodded, not mentioning that the reason she'd not elected to remain in the lobby as instructed had little to do with needing to see Finn that much quicker. But because she'd caught a glimpse of Justin Michaelson in the hospital's gift shop cafe. Between balloons exclaiming the gender of a newborn, and tall models of romanticized light houses, there had been the unmistakable profile of a certain young teen that she was all too familiar with.

Sousa shuddered.

It seemed to her that she was born to loathe Justin Michaelson. The moment she'd met him, the urge to attack had nearly overwhelmed her. She smiled grimly to herself. In fact, she had jumped him at the social services event. But the first grader could only do so much damage and the social workers were quick to intervene, especially since she'd been attacking a younger child, even if he had outweighed her.

Mac looked up at her older sister, her expression worried.

Sousa gave her sister a closed-lip smile that she hoped looked natural. She'd come a long way since first grade, but that didn't mean her feelings had abated at all. Though she was unsure why Justin put her on edge just by existing. Sousa could manage to keep from attacking him now, she even managed to feel a small amount of shame that the urge to hurt him was still there. She wasn't generally in favor of violence.

"He's okay." Mac whispered, her small face pale.

Sousa pulled her hand from her pocket and wrapped it around her beloved younger sister's shoulder. Mac loved Finn with the same fervor as Sousa hated Justin. As for her own personal feelings for Finn, that was a bit more complicated, though he really was her best friend.

Finn Michaelson had been a quiet first grader with dark, haunted eyes when they'd first met. They hadn't sat next to each other in class, their names started with different letters of the alphabet. He'd been the quiet one in class, never volunteering, never speaking up unless called upon. Taller than most of the other boys, with a sense of being solid. Like someone you could count on. But no matter who had tried, no one could get him out of his shell. Often he'd be staring out the windows and eventually everyone just left him alone.

Sousa hadn't been one of the classmates to try for his attention. She had her own issues to deal with. Still, it had only had been after her run-in with young Justin that things had changed. Sousa still remembered how he'd walked up to her on the swings so long ago, catching the chain in one hand and holding on until she came to a stop in front of him.

It was so unlike him, to take initiative to talk to someone, that she had merely stared at him as he looked back at her.

"I heard you hit my brother." He'd finally said, his expression closed and wary.

"Yeah." She'd lifted her chin defiantly, although she'd not known then that the two boys were brothers. Still, it hadn't been hard to figure out whom he meant, since she hadn't normally gone around hitting people. Sousa smiled a bit as she remembered how brave she'd tried to act in front of Finn, even though he had seriously outweighed her even if she had been almost his height. Sousa had always been very slender, more than approaching outright skinny with joints that looked bigger than they should because her limbs had no meat to them. She had been at a physical disadvantage on several different levels. "So?"

"Cool." Finn had said quietly, his eyes dropping down to the ground between them. "But ...look out for him. He holds grudges. So, be careful of him, okay?"

"Not of you?" She'd asked defiantly all those years ago.

Finn had shaken his head and had finally looked up, giving her a lopsided kind of half-smile. They'd been friends ever since.

It had helped that both had been raised in the foster care system. They could share some things without even speaking about them. A look, a word, a gesture. They understood one another. For the most part. Their pasts weren't exactly mirror images. Sousa hadn't been abandoned. There had been a multi-car pile up on I-95 and she'd been flung out of one of the vehicles. A miracle survivor.

But no one knew whose miracle survivor. Several people had died or been critically injured, but there was no record of Sousa at all. She'd been about four at the time, and could only remember her first name. After a lot of searching and even some national media attention, she'd become a ward of the state of North Carolina.

However, Sousa's experiences differed from both Finn and Justin's. She'd been one of the lucky ones. Adopted as quickly as legally able by her first set of foster parents. Loved. A second adoption several years later had added Mac to the family. Gweneth was her given name actually, but everyone called her Mac since for a long time the only food she'd willingly eaten had been macaroni and cheese.

The elevator stopped on the 2nd floor and two nurses in scrubs walked in, as well as someone in a suit. They all had official hospital name tags.

One of the nurses smiled at the two girls. "This is the employee elevator. Are you girls lost?"

Sousa smiled sweetly, not admitting to not wanting to cross the lobby to the visitor elevator banks in case Justin had seen them. "A friend got hurt, he's on the third floor."

Mac blinked up at the nurses and leaned her head against her sister's side. "And these elevators were closer."

The nurses both smiled and nodded, giving directions for once the girls got off on the third floor.

Sousa nodded and thanked them, even as they finally got to the indicated floor. The elevator doors opened. She took a deep breath, knowing the looks she was about to get.

Mac followed her sister off the elevator, both ignoring anyone watching. Sousa knew what people saw when they looked at her. She was beautiful. Tall for a girl, and very slender now that her body had grown enough to cover her earlier skinniness. All leg and though not much in the curve department, she had enough not to look like a stick. Wavy dark curls flowed down her back and overly large blue eyes graced an oval shaped face. She'd been asked often if she had any desire to model.

Until people saw her walk.

Sousa hadn't come away from that car accident unscathed. Her small body had been thrown quite a distance, resulting in a badly damaged pelvis and leg trauma. She'd had to learn to walk all over again. With a pediatric walker at first, then a cane. Now at sixteen, she could walk unassisted, but with an uneven gait. "Why are you limping?" "Sports injury?" "Such a shame." She'd heard it all before.

The teen didn't care about how she looked. But she couldn't stand pity. She turned and pointed toward a sign the nurses had told the girls to look for. Mac nodded and they headed down the hallway to the nurses station.

Sousa smiled as Mac ran up to the main desk, putting her hands on the counter and peering over with her light blue eyes. Her sister was adorable, grinning and trying to chat with the nurses as she asked about 'her Finn'.

However, the nursing staff ignored them and seemed too preoccupied as they bustled from here to there. Finally, a harassed looking nurse stopped and distractedly made some noise about Mac being too young to visit. Sousa begged him to let the smaller girl stay, reassuring the man that her petite blond sister was older than she looked.

And it was true. Mac had been adopted as an infant, being what the media often referred to as a 'crack baby'. Low birth weight. That was the only symptom Mac ever really exhibited. She was definitely smaller than other children her age, but not by much. However she was sharp and intelligent and beyond sweet, despite predictions to the contrary due to the drugs in her system at birth.

Sousa and Mac both promised not to visit long, and the nurse grimaced but waved them to a room at the end of the hallway as the girls promised that their mother would be up as soon as she finished parking the car. The two girls pushed open the indicated door, stepping inside. Mac rushed the bed, ignoring the yellow 'wet floor' sign on the freshly mopped floor.

They both stopped at the sight of the uniformed officer standing next to the bed. But the man just held up a hand for them to wait for one moment. He was asking Finn something about a white-tailed kite, but their friend was mutely shaking his head and shrugging.

"I don't know how it got in the room." Finn was saying weakly, looking far too pale as far as Sousa could tell.

"The windows don't open wide, and the screen was still intact." The officer stated with a frown.

She watched Finn shrug, looking lost. "I still don't know what you're talking about. It's a feather. I don't know how it got here."

The officer made a face but nodded thoughtfully as he almost casually twirled a largish white feather between his thumb and forefinger. He turned and glanced at the two girls. "Friends?"

"That title is taken." Mac grinned mischievously.

Sousa gave the officer a wary but polite smile as she nudged her younger sister, clearly trying to suppress the youngster's comments. "He's not playing." She whispered.

Mac shrugged.

"Now, about this kite that was in your room here." The officer started again.

Finn sighed. "There was no bird." His voice sounded strained to his two friends.

Now Mac frowned. "Leave him alone. He's hurt. And he's been in here, so he didn't steal a kite."

The police officer nodded, closing his notebook. "Not a kite, but a big bird called a kite. Besides, I'm not the one who hurt him, but 10-4." He smiled at a too-pale looking Finn. "Protective isn't she?"

Mac stilled and blinked for a moment. "10-4?" She asked, as if unsure she was being made fun of.

"It means okay." The officer smiled gently. "It's a code the police use."

Mac scrunched up her nose a bit and then shook her head. "Why don't you just say fourteen. Ten plus four is fourteen."

Finn and Sousa both smiled, being used to the young girl.

The officer actually chuckled. "It's radio code. 10-4 means 'okay'. It means I understood what you said."

"Well what do you say when you don't understand? Like how can a kite be a bird? Unless it's shaped like a bird." Mac rocked back and forth slightly in her bright blue tennis shoes.

The policeman shrugged. "Let's see. I guess that would be 10-1, which means unable to copy, or change location."

Mac looked at Sousa for confirmation of what the man was telling her. The older girl nodded.

"What's another one?" Mac asked eagerly, her early pique forgotten.

Finn coughed slightly and winced. "You've done it now."

The police officer nodded and headed toward the door. "I think I'll leave you with 10-24, it means assignment completed. I'll leave you with your friends. We'll talk later, son." The officer turned back toward Finn.

The teen sighed and shrugged again. "Not your son, and I don't know what more I can tell you."

"Take it easy then, not-my-son." The officer said in a dead-pan voice.

Finn actually gave a tepid kind of lopsided smile to that and nodded as the officer finally left the room.

"In trouble? I thought you were the hero." Sousa asked quietly from just inside the doorway.

Finn managed a bigger smile for the two of them, but he still looked too pale to her. Mac had no reservations, jumping up and clapping as she ran toward the hospital bed. Straight for his right side.

"Other side, other side." He joked, motioning the nine-year old toward his left. "Bullet didn't kill me, so don't you finish me off."

Sousa caught her breath as she took a good long look at him. Finn was definitely not looking right. And the sight of him in a hospital gown made her teeth clench. "You're an idiot." She snapped, feeling on edge and yet relieved that he was basically alright.

Finn gave her an abashed look. "So? I forgot how to duck."

Sousa shook her head at him, walking up to the bed. She placed her hand on his arm, feeling him turn his hand over as she slid her palm down to meet his own. "I hate you." Her blue eyes traveled over his face, her heart beat racing a bit.

Finn squeezed her hand tight and she clung to him, feeling the coolness of his skin with a frown. He usually radiated heat. It was an old joke between them. "Your thermostat is low, Smithy." For some reason the long-time nickname made Finn stiffen slightly. Sousa frowned.

"Guess what, guess what?" Mac smiled brightly. "Mom brought you a present to get well."

The young man stilled as he eyed the bubbly nine year old. "Your mom?"

Sousa tugged on his hand to draw his attention back to her, giving him a weak smile. "Yeah. She heard you protected Justin and she's decided that even you have your good points."

Finn sighed. Mrs. Whittal considered him trouble. And a lot of it. But she thought Justin was the sweetest thing ever. Both images were carefully cultivated by Justin himself. Something that wasn't just for Mrs. Whittal's benefit, Justin pretty much wanted to charm the world. All for his own reasons and his need to be adored.

"And I learned a new card trick! Wanna see?" Mac pulled a deck of playing cards from her bright orange purse which did not match her outfit. Although it did match the thin streak of fake hair alongside her left temple along with some tiny feathers.

"Feathers don't belong on little girls." Finn teased the nine-year old, who merely poked her tongue out at him.

Feathers. Sousa jerked her head to indicate the hallway as she remembered the commotion from when they'd arrived on the floor. "What's with the bird. A white-tail kite?"

"That's a stupid name for a bird." Mac shuffled her cards, held them out for Finn and then frowned, pulling them back. "Did they think you stole a bird?"

Finn's face went strangely blank and for a moment Sousa thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally he shrugged. "Apparently it's a rare breed here in North Carolina. And one of it's feathers somehow got into the hospital. No one knows how." His voice sounded flat and his fingers loosened from around hers. "I woke up and it was in my room. Not my fault."

Sousa frowned, but let the moment go. They were close friends, but not a romantic pair. Her fault, not his. She let his hand slide away from hers as Mac poked Finn in the shoulder. Finn turned to look at the nine-year old as she stared into his face very, very seriously. "Protecting Justin?"

Finn's face flushed slightly. "Instinct."

The door opened behind them and all three turned to see a smiling Mrs. Whittal, being escorted into the room by an equally smiling Justin.

The fourteen year old looked around the room. He knew where he wasn't wanted. Yet he thrived on being contrary. "See? Here they all are! I thought I heard familiar voices. Look who I found in the lobby."