Revised Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Sousa Whittal sat next to her mother in the vehicle, looking straight ahead. Her nearly black hair was caught up behind her in a high ponytail, her clothing more appropriate for outdoor wear than in-town errands. A few of her caught up curls fluttered with the wind from the open window beside her. "I don't understand why I couldn't go with them today."

"You're grounded." The pretty blond woman said firmly, even as she kept her eyes on the road. "You got suspended."

"In-school suspension. Big deal." Sousa sighed, her arms crossed stubbornly. "And you have always said I should stick up for other people."

Mrs. Whittal nodded, short dangling earrings swaying with her slight movement. "Yes, but when you stepped in front of the other student? You didn't have to use that bad language."

"Or at least not where you could be heard." Her younger sister piped up from the backseat.

The girls' mother frowned with a quick glance in the rear-view mirror. "Mac! That's not helping!"

The nine-year old in the back seat smiled widely. "Sousa stood up to a bully, that's a good thing!"

Their mother sighed, pulling into the turning lane as she waited for on-coming traffic to pass by. Sousa looked up at the two-story building where they were heading and sighed too. "I still don't see why I had to give up the horse show today." The teen groused a bit, disappointed not to be with her horse. Well, not technically hers.

Mrs. Whittal nodded and pulled into the parking lot for the public library. "You weren't even scheduled to show today, not with Essie's limp."

Sousa frowned, thinking of her trainer's saddlebred horse that she usually rode. A beautiful eight year old bay horse standing fifteen hands high with a much darker mane that set off the gelding's beautiful coloring perfectly. And today Essie, short for Edward's Sidney Sparrow was definitely limping. "That's why I should be out at the stables, not at the library." She said, hoping she sounded reasonable and not pouty.

Mrs. Whittal finished parking and switched off the SUV's engine, turning to look at her sixteen year old currently in the passenger seat. "The vet is there, and says it looks like a stone bruise. Hopefully there's not an abscess brewing. Bad luck to have this right before a competition, but Essie will definitely need to rest the leg. Now, I'm sorry that Essie is injured, but it doesn't look too bad and we may have caught it early enough. So ...no, I'm not leaving you at the stables alone to work, not with everyone else off to the horse show. No, you can't go with them. You're grounded. Yes, I'm proud that you stepped in front of another child to stop some teasing. No, you're not allowed to curse like a sailor while doing it. Especially not at school."

Sousa clenched her jaw, but said nothing while listening to her mother. Disappointment clear in every small movement.

Mrs. Whittal looked behind her daughter and turned the vehicle back on just enough to operate the electronics, but not engaging the engine. "Roll up your window, please."

The teen opened her door before hitting the proper button, watching the glass rising beside her head.

Mac and her mother shared a quick look as they both got out of the SUV as well. Sousa would do anything to keep from being in a car, or any vehicle, without having her window down. Winter or summer, it didn't matter what season. She'd even try and lower it during rain storms, once her mother actually had to engage the child safety locks to keep the window up during an approaching hurricane.

Wind? Rain? No big deal. Enclosed in a car? Sousa couldn't breathe. Elevators she could handle, even if they did make her uneasy some of the time. Closets? No problem. It was cars. Therapists had put it down as a form of PTSD stemming from the multi-car pile up on I-95 that had left her injured and without a family at the age of four, even though Sousa claimed to remember nothing from that time.

Four year olds could usually name themselves, siblings and family members. Some even knew phone numbers or house numbers. All Sousa had been able to recall was her own first name. She couldn't describe her parents, or siblings, or even the vehicle she'd been thrown from. It was as if everything started with that crash and being found injured along the side of the road.

Mrs. Whittal used the vehicle remote to lock the doors and all three turned to head toward the main entrance of the library.

Sousa's mood lightened somewhat, looking at the signs of spring arriving in the small trees that decorated the grassy medians in the library parking lot. No matter what her mood, put her outside and things invariably started to look better. "I'm sorry, mom."

"Thank you." Mrs. Whittal smiled over at her oldest. "Now, we're here for Mac's class project and getting extra credit for helping out with the craft fair. You don't have to work on that, though."

Sousa nodded, glancing at her grinning younger sister. Mac had near perfect grades, always had. She didn't need extra credit. But the sweet little girl always had her hand raised when it came to volunteering for things to help others.

"Sousa, I wish you'd worn your new jeans at least." Mrs. Whittal shook her head as the three entered the busy lobby, looking up at the ceiling that stretched all the way up to the second floor. High windows allowed a lot of natural light, shining down on a new display of portraits of local luminaries.

"Why?" The teen shrugged off the comment, as her eyes skimmed over the names of people she didn't know that were being recognized for accomplishments she'd never heard of. "It's just the library."

Mrs. Whittal didn't answer, but Mac turned to look at her mother, then over at Sousa, then back again. Suddenly she smiled wide. "Mom! You have a date!"

Shocked, Sousa stopped in the middle of the floor, drawing a protest from an older woman who was forced to walk around her. She stared at her mother for a long moment, taking in what she had failed to notice earlier, having been too upset because of the missed horse show.

Mrs. Whittal was a young widow, just barely forty years old. She didn't even look that old, however. Pretty and blond with a trim figure, soft curls framing her face and dark hazel eyes. Jessica. Not just mom. Jessica Giles Whittal. A trained professional chef who'd retired early to become a mother.

And right now, her mother couldn't meet her gaze even while her cheeks pinked up and her fingers tightened and loosened on her purse strap nervously. Sousa stared, taking in the new outfit, the lightly done make up and the earrings she usually didn't even bother with. "Mom?"

"It's not a date." Mrs. Whittal insisted, turning toward the children's area. "Hurry up, Mac."

"We're early." The nine-year old grinned wider, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her bright pink flat heels at that. She'd painted her white generic tennies herself. With her blue leggings and striped top the color popped like candy. Sousa was the outdoorsy one, Mac was the crafty, colorful one.

"It's not a date." Mrs. Whittal repeated, finally met Sousa's eyes, barely. "It's not."

The sixteen year old let herself smile genuinely for the first time that morning. "Mom, it's okay. Dad's been gone a while now." Although it stung to think of her mother seeing another man, it was past time. And it had stung a lot more to watch her mom grieve for the past couple of years.

"It's not actually a date." The pretty blond asserted again. "Not really."

Mac cocked her head to the side, looking amused. "You remembered to wear earrings. And you have on your good shoes."

"All my shoes are good." Chagrined, Mrs. Whittal looked down at her feet as the two girls laughed. It was true, their mother wasn't prone to vanity or over spending. She wasn't someone who had to have the latest trends. But her shoes were her 'treat' and were always nice. The ones she had on now were two toned blue with a medium heel and open toes, complete with sleek lines that didn't come from a discount shoe store. It also revealed one more small fact.

"Pedicure, mom?" Sousa looked down at the barely there pretty shell-pink color peeping out at them from the open toe design. "Not a date?" Her voice trailed off in mock disbelief.

"It's lunch." Snapped the embarrassed woman.

Mac laughed again, grinning and nearly vibrating with excitement. "How is lunch NOT a date?"

"Because you two will be with me." Mrs. Whittal thinned out her mouth, looking nervous yet determined.

Sousa nodded, knowing that their mother was taking a huge step today. Lunch with something other that Doug Whittal? Huge. The two had been college sweethearts, even after their mom had dropped out to go to culinary school instead of on to law school as her family expected. Dad had become the lawyer. Estate planning. Ironic that, since he'd been the one with the early diagnosis of lung cancer, even though he'd never smoked.

"Mom? Don't look so nervous. Lunch is good, it's safe. And don't criticize the menu. It doesn't matter if they should have used kale instead of spinach, or if tilapia is overrated as a fish. At least it's a sustainable food source, focus on that instead. Just be cool."

Mrs. Whittal blinked down at her amazing nine-year old daughter and laughed. "I love you. But since when did you become a dating expert? You still think boys are stinky."

"They are stinky." Mac wrinkled her nose and grinned.

Sousa shook her head and let her mother pull she and her sister into a quick hug.

"Except for Finn." Mac said, pulling the smile from Mrs. Whittal's face. "He's not stinky, and guess what? He's over there."

Sousa turned to look and sure enough, Justin and Finn were coming in through the main entrance. She looked at them and stiffened. Justin looked energized, fairly bouncing around on his toes and having to make an obvious effort to keep from running about. Finn looked utterly calm, and closed off, stiff. The older teen spotted them first and he stopped, seemingly reluctant as he headed towards them with Justin following.

Something was off, wrong. She frowned slightly watching the pair of teenage boys. One her closest friend, one ....not.

Mrs. Whittal eyed the two boys as well, sighing. Sousa knew her mother had serious reservations about Finn, and she even knew why. What the Tuckers had told her when the couple had given up the boys had been hard to hear. Sousa and Mac had both stuck up for their friend, but Mr. and Mrs. Whittal had both wondered if they'd made a mistake allowing the girls to play and hang out with young Finn. Even if there had been no proof.

And Sousa knew why there was no proof to be found. Because everyone was looking at the wrong Michaelson brother. Only, who would believe that of a sweet and charming young Justin? He'd been what, ten years old at the time? Looking between the quiet and withdrawn twelve year old and the winning ten year old, it had been an easy assumption to make.

Even without proof, the Tuckers had decided it was too much and had decided on a 'disruption', the polite term for ending a foster care situation. Four years with them, four years of being a family tossed aside by dark suspicion.

Worse? The Tuckers had made it known they were willing to keep Justin if only DSS would have allowed the boys to be separated. Something they had tried to explain to Finn as gently as possible. Only there was no gentle way to put that particular kind of information. We want your brother, not you. Not you.

Finn had always been a bit insular, but after that 'conversation' he'd turned even quieter. It had taken months for her to get him to talk about it, even to her.

"Sousa?" The teen was pulled from her thoughts even as Finn strolled up to her, looking terribly casual. And blank. "I thought you had a show today?" He said quietly.

She pushed away memories of Finn's hurt, instead focusing on the here and now. Sousa just shook her head, her long curls sweeping across her back. "Essie is limping."

Finn frowned, immediately concerned. "Serious?" He asked, knowing how much the horse meant to her.

Sousa shook her head again, "No. Just needs to rest his leg."

"I'm sorry." Finn offered, then looked over at the others. "Heya Mac, Mrs. Whittal. I wanted to thank you again for coming out to the hospital to see me."

The girl's mother nodded, grimly remembering how Finn had stepped up and protected his younger brother. Maybe he was growing up, or had changed, or ...maybe the Tuckers had been wrong? She remained cautious as she smiled up at him though. "Finn. I'm glad you're up and about, looking better. Justin? You look the picture of health, so glad to see."

The younger boy nodded politely, smiling. "Oh, I'm feeling a lot better, thank you. You look really nice today."

Mrs. Whittal smiled, her fingers going to smooth a line in her skirt. "Thank you, young man."

Sousa rolled her eyes where her mother couldn't see her.

Mac looked up at the clock above the check-out desk. "Finn? Didn't you have to work today?"

Mrs. Whittal blinked, how did her nine-year old know Finn's work schedule? The question vanished though as her lunch non-date walked into the library, his own daughter in tow. Nerves jangled as she watched the divorced father send his child over toward the craft area. "Mac? Go check on Cindy, please?"

Mac looked surprised, her mouth forming an 'o'. "Cindy's dad? Mom? He's been divorced like five times."

"Twice." Mrs. Whittal frowned lightly, having her own reservations about this lunch non-date but unwilling to share those with her children.

Sousa sighed and eyed the man in question. She saw the attraction immediately. Cindy's dad looked a lot like Doug Whittal, just softer around the edges. Her expectations for this luncheon plummeted.

"If you'll excuse us, I have to do some research for a school paper." Justin smiled winningly.

"Of course." Mrs. Whittal smiled back at the more polite of the two Michaelson brothers.

"Where's your school work? Book bag? Note paper?" Mac asked with a kind of cold inquiry.

Her mother looked a bit taken aback as she stared at her youngest. "Don't be rude. I'm sure he's just checking out books to take home to use for his paper."

"Just curious." Mac said with a fake smile at Justin.

"Well, we need to get into the children's area and help out." Mrs. Whittal put her hand lightly on Mac's shoulder as Justin took off down the aisles of books.

The nine-year old made a rude noise with her mouth. "You just want to see Cindy's dad. Yuck."

"Watch yourself young lady, that's rude. Sousa?"

The teenager turned and looked at her mom, shrugging. "I need to talk to Finn." She didn't even bother to lie. First of all, she hated lying, second of all she never hid her friendship with him, even in the face of her parent's disapproval.

"Don't take long." Mrs. Whittal frowned while being tugged along by Mac. "We leave at half-past, okay?"

Sousa nodded and touched Finn's arm, twitching her eyes in curiosity. "What's wrong?" She whispered.

Finn looked sour for a moment, as if contemplating keeping something from her. Surprised, she pushed him lightly. He frowned and nodded, hunching his shoulders as he turned and headed into one of the large open space reading rooms toward the back of the first floor.

The chairs in the room were soft and comfortable, but deep and meant for reading, not conversing. Small tables sat between the chairs, putting a further distance between people. Tall armrests on the chairs helped with the illusion of being separated, even from the person sitting next to you.

Sousa ignored the unstated function of the arrangement, pushing Finn into one such chair while perching herself on one of the tables. She pulled her right leg up under her as she sat, though her childhood injuries prevented her from doing so with the other leg. Being unable to sit in the so-called indian style was nothing new to her and focused completely on him. Almost unnervingly so. Her pale blue eyes watched him closely. "What is Justin up to this time?"

Finn blinked first, then actually chuckled before taking a deep breath. Finally he simply shrugged with a vague hand gesture, managing to look a bit embarrassed. "This time, it's not him."

Surprised, Sousa pulled back slightly, staring. She was so used to thinking of Justin as the root of all trouble, that it took her a moment to wrap her mind around the opposite concept. "What?"

It was then that the object of their conversation hurried into the room, dropping a stack of books loudly on the table next to Sousa. She had to reach out and catch them before they slipped off. The noise drew several stares their way. "Start on those." Justin demanded of them before hurrying off.

Blinking rapidly, Sousa watched with nothing short of amazement. The fourteen year old had looked ...less than bored. Engaged even? She turned the book on top so that she could read the title. "Ghost Stories of Coastal North Carolina". Her blue eyes rose to meet Finn's gaze, only to find him lightly blushing.

Quickly she looked through the other titles. They all had to do with either local history or ghosts in general. At the bottom was a popular fantasy novel dealing with other worlds. There were several movies based upon it already. She would have sworn that Justin would have turned his nose up at a story so basically wholesome. "What?" Her voice stalled there, she didn't even know what question to ask first.

Finn sighed and rolled his shoulders, looking reluctant. "Sousa? There's something that happened back in the store that I didn't tell you."

"Me?" Her voice squeaked slightly. "What's my part in this?"

"Anyone." Finn grimaced. "It happened in the hospital too, and then again today."

Sousa picked up the next book in the stack, grimacing as two others slipped to the thin carpeting with dulled noise. "But you told Justin?" She sounded mystified and a bit hurt, even to herself. Unable to flex her left hip too deeply without discomfort, she started to get up but Finn waved her off as he picked up the books.

He shook his head and made a face as he realigned the stack of books, merely glancing at some of the titles. "Hardly. He was with me today, that's all."

"Tell me." She demanded, her hand coming down to rest over his as he messed with the books, stopping him. "Just spill it, Smithy."

***

After this afternoon, the last thing Finn wanted to do was think about what he'd experienced. He wanted to forget it all. But Justin had been energized by the whole thing, now that he was back from the 'black abyss' as he described it. In fact, Justin had completely decided against going to the mall, instead dragging Finn all the way to the public library instead. A place Justin usually avoided like the plague, telling Deann he just had to get some books for a report that he'd forgotten was due. She'd, of course, had been thrilled to drop them off while shopping. Library books were free, after all.

So here he was, at the public library with a headache that had gone from raging to merely annoying and achy. Though, ever since meeting up with Sousa and Mac he'd been feeling a little better. Whatever had happened, it seemed to be wearing off, though he was still feeling off kilter and frightened about what he'd witnessed. No. The fear was because he was pretty sure he had caused the scene with the ghost woman today. And the bird at the hospital. Did that mean he had actually been to blame for the gunman's burns on the day of the robbery? There had been gray layers that day too. What did it all mean?

Math wasn't his one true love, though he was decent in class. Still, he knew enough to be able to come up with the least common denominator. Him. All the strange bits going on around them? He was always there. But why and how? It was enough to send his mind spinning off into an unstable orbit.

In other words, he was confused, knew nothing and was feeling less than rotten. So of course he'd run into Sousa out here. Damn it all! Finn knew he could keep a secret, and a lot of them. But not from her, not for long. Never from her. That meant run away like a fool, or talk.

Reluctant, Finn took a deep breath as her stare turned into glaring at him. "Well?" She demanded once again.

There was no help for it. Finn sunk down into his chair and in a monotone began to describe how he'd felt like he'd been dying after being shot in the side. How things had gone all 'gray' on him. How he'd seen things that weren't part of the store.

Sousa frowned, but didn't interrupt.

He eyed the wall behind her carefully, as he continued, unable to meet her gaze head on anymore. His face felt hot with embarrassment, his words pale and devoid of inflection as he told her about the hospital, when the detective had been questioning him, about the bird. How it should have been an hallucination, but the police detective had seen the bird too. And about the distinctive feather left behind in his room. When she didn't interrupt, Finn paused for a moment and then went on to tell her that the gray layers he had seen were just like the ones from the convenience store. A longer pause this time, and his words became a little slower, halting even, as he admitted that he didn't know if he could be responsible for the burns the gunman had suffered during the robbery attempt.

Finn stared at Sousa's chin as he finished, the silence stretching out between them until he raised his eyes to meet hers. She was watching him carefully, still not saying a word. Finn coughed lightly. "You could call me crazy right about now. It might help." He offered.

"Shut up. Justin saw something." Sousa snapped at him. "That much is obvious from the way he's acting. But not at the robbery, he would have acted different then, not now. Same with the hospital, he wasn't there when the detective questioned you I don't think.

Finn shook his head, his face heating up. He knew what was coming next.

"So. There's more." Sousa's pale blue eyes sometimes could look a little spooky, like now. She leaned in toward him, her manner curious and determined. "Smithy?"

The sixteen year old shrugged it off. "Justin saw very little, that's the problem. Still, it was enough to get him to ditch the mall and make Deann drop us off here."

Reluctance must have been all over his expression. "That is vague, the kind of answer you give others, not me." Sousa slapped his shoulder lightly as she made her demand clear. "Tell the rest."

He didn't want to. Plain, simple, to the point. The name slipped from hims, stalling, deliberately provoking. "Tom Braswell?"

She stiffened, sitting up, emotions flitting across through her gaze. Her lips tightened. "None of your business who I go to prom with, and as a way to change the subject? I cry foul."

Finn's own mouth tightened. "He used the Cliff notes for the report on Romeo and Juliet."

Sousa's expressive eyes widened and she gave a half-smile. "That's all you could come up with?"

"He's squeaky clean." Finn admitted with a sigh. "Boring. Even his name is boring."

"Ten yard penalty, repeat first down." Sousa waved one hand absently. "Go back to what Justin witnessed and bring up Tom again, I will penalize you enough to be in field goal range."

Surprised laughter pulled some looks from the other library patrons around them as Finn waved an apology at one older woman, trying hard to stifle his amusement. Finally he grinned. "Football? You hate football. Besides, it's basketball season right now."

"Like I care." Sousa smiled at him, although she looked a little sad even so. "Smithy. What happened today?"

Finn eyed her, but for once couldn't read her expression. Sad, angry, what? "I'm not crazy." He said, drawing the smile off her face as she nodded in encouragement. No help for it. Helplessly, he obliged her, going on with his story. "Today? We were at Rose Wall Manor, in a room. Just me and Justin. I saw something ....I thought it was a ghost. A woman was ...doing something." Somehow he was reluctant to describe how the ghost woman had been undressing. Not to Sousa.

"Something?" She made a slight face at him, making him feel guilty. "Look, most of this stuff happened when you were shot or sick and on pain killers. Not today though. You're not taking anything for pain anymore, right?"

"No. Not since I left the hospital."

Sousa's gamine features clouded with sudden temper. "Finn Michaelson! You promised me you would actually take the pain medication they gave you! There was enough there to last at least two weeks!"

Caught, he grimaced at his mistake. "I'm sorry! You just know I hate feeling fuzzy like that. Absolutely can't stand it. Look, I took the antibiotics at least."

"We'll come back to that one." She promised darkly. "Just for now, tell me what happened today. We keep getting off track."

Finn moved on, though he knew she wouldn't forget to get onto him later about not taking the pain killers. It was something they had in common actually, hating the way the medicines made them feel loopy.

"Today?" She prompted, looking stern. Her pale blue eyes flashing with temper held in check. Barely. Sousa was not someone you wanted mad at you. She and Justin had something in common, and Finn wasn't stupid enough to tell her that. Still, the two of them both knew how to hold a grudge.

Finn gave a nod of his head as he started back up with his tale, watching her expressions carefully. Unsure if she really would think him crazy. "The harder I stared, the more the room looked ....real somehow. Less gray. And the room at the manor? It was becoming more and more gray, as if its reality was decreasing somehow. One taking the place of the other I guess."

Sousa made a sound at the back of her throat. "And Justin saw your ghost too?"

"Not at first." He admitted slowly, unsure. "Justin claimed he could only see blackness, like everything just went away. He could hear me, feel me, but could see absolutely nothing. He was hanging on to me like crazy."

Now Sousa's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Finn scowled. "Look, at the end it seemed that the gray world was real, and ours was fading out. And then ...she saw us."

Sousa chuckled lightly, only going still as she saw Finn's jaw clench. "Sorry, it just sounds ..."

"I know how it sounds." Finn snapped at his friend, making Sousa give him an arch look. He calmed down and took a deep breath to steady himself. "Look, I do know how it sounds. But at the end there, Justin says he saw her too."

Sousa nodded resolutely and sat up straight, thinking. She looked around the room and then back at Finn. "Neither of you do drugs."

Finn gave her a foul look.

"You two around any chemicals from your job, in the house, whatever?"

He shook his head and shrugged. "Nothing obvious. No radioactive spider warning signs or shit."

That teased a smile from her. Sousa sighed, still looking unsure. "Have you ever slipped into these gray layers on purpose? Have you ever tried?"

"No." He admitted.

"Maybe you should try it." She urged him, although not with any real conviction in her voice. "With a control, like an experiment. Have someone watching."

"I don't know." Finn wasn't sure of the suggestion, although he'd already wondered about this himself. He and Justin had come to some sort of unspoken agreement on the way to the library. And as much as he loved Sousa, he loved her too much to try something like that in front of her. What if he ended up looking like a fool?

"My head was aching when it was over, today." He stalled, watching as she went thoughtful on him. "Really, really banging headache too."

Sousa knew that he never got sick. No matter what ear infection, or strep outbreak, or even the chickenpox that Mac or Justin ever caught had managed to infect Finn. Sousa wasn't prone to much sickness, but she'd had her fair share of colds and stuff over the years. Not Finn. They'd often joked amongst themselves that he had a mutant healing factor. The only exception was headaches. Starting around the age of twelve he'd begun complaining of these sudden pains in his head. Not migraines, nothing debilitating. Justin being Justin started calling it Finn's time of the month. Mostly when they were alone though, since Sousa wasn't above smacking Justin in the head in retaliation. Luckily the headaches weren't very frequent, maybe every four months or so. Deann had called it growing pains as Finn had been shooting upwards in height at the time.

"Too much sun?" Sousa suggested quietly.

Finn shrugged, his gaze dropping from hers. Sun. Yeah, he had been outside the whole morning. "Maybe. I forgot about working, what with nearly being shot by a ghost and all." He said sheepishly.

Sousa leaned in and nudged him lightly to get him to meet her pale-eyed gaze again. "How about now?"

The sixteen year old gave a wispy imitation of a smile and shook his head. "Fading."

Sitting back up on the side table, Sousa kicked out her left leg and stretched it a moment before settling back down, drawing a frown from an older patron passing by. The teen gave the gray-haired woman a bright smile and didn't move from her perch.

"Want to switch seats?" He offered, which was as close as he could get to asking her if she were in pain. Sousa didn't like being reminded that her body wasn't perfectly healthy. And she detested pity.

Her head shake was a bit sharp, but she didn't say anything on that particular subject. Instead she pointed right at him. "Try it now. I'm here, we're more or less in public. If you see a giant predator bird or ghost, stop it, and don't materialize it in here."

He gave her a sharp look. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Finn nodded and shook out his hands. Might as well try. If nothing happened ...no, when nothing happened they could all make fun of him and his 'ghost' vision and life would return to normal.

Even after closing his eyes he could feel her staring at him. His headache really had faded to less than a dull ache. More of an odd achy feeling, like a warning that the pain was simply waiting to come back and pounce on him again. Tentatively Finn thought 'gray', squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He was aware of his own breathing, and hers. Small sounds in the quiet library came through, as no room with people in it was ever truly silent. The clicking of keyboard keys. The turning of paper, probably the guy reading the newspaper next to a window. Or it could be the two girls looking at magazines that had been in the corner. Air conditioning noise, probably. He peeked.

Nothing. Well, yeah. Everyone was still in their right place, and in full color. Newspaper shelves and magazines on display, ready for patrons. Glossy pictures on the front showing healthy eating or Southern style decor. No gray at all except in some stranger's sweatshirt and he was pretty sure it was the original color, and not a result of anything he'd done.

Finn shut his eyes again and tried to steady his breathing, syncing it with his heart beat. It sounded New Agey and stupid, but he didn't know what else to try. He attempted to visualize the gray world he had seen, but couldn't quite bring it all into focus. He could picture the ghost woman, and her weapon, perfectly. The rest was kind of vague.

Feeling like an utter fool, Finn opened his eyes again. "This is dumb." Embarrassed he flicked his fingers and sighed. And yet part of him was more than relieved that there were no layers of gray, and no well-armed ghosties about.

Sousa caught his hand in both of hers. "Try again. And this time, don't close your eyes. You didn't say you'd done that before."

Finn felt the familiar pull of her, his eyes falling on their joined hands. He let his hand go, let it become her prop. From experience he knew better than to try to superimpose his feelings onto her. If asked, Finn wasn't sure he could tell you when he fell in love with Sousa. It was a given, as natural as his own breathing, his own heartbeat. Her feelings? Not so straight forward. She loved him, he did know that. But it wasn't romantic love. He'd long ago had to realize that where Sousa was concerned, he'd take what he could get.

It wasn't logical, but it was as if the warmth of her hands invaded him. All of him. His headache had already been fading, but it really did feel as if she alone was chasing away all his aches and pains. It had always been like that, ever since the first grade.

Sousa's blue eyes watched him closely, and he knew the moment it grew too much. Her hands opened slightly, the warmth receding a bit, even if it was only in his mind. The pulling back wasn't physical so much. His headache was gone now, but his heart was another story entirely.

Sousa cleared her throat slightly. "Try again."

"Why? You don't really believe me anyway." He grouched. Feeling stupid was bad enough, feeling stupid in front of her was worse. Looking stupid on top of rejection was lower still. Even so, he didn't pull away from her until she sat back, letting his hand go.

Watching her was the best and the worst. She was his best friend, his deepest confidant. Sousa saw him as real and whole when no one else could or would. She saw through Justin's charm and his lies. She understood him in ways he probably didn't even understand himself. They could sit for hours and not say a thing, feeling perfectly comfortable. They weren't a romantic pair, but deep inside, he hoped that one day their 'plan' would head in that direction. Maybe. He'd asked her why not in the past, but the answers were always vague in a way that wasn't usually like the usually straight forward Sousa.

He did know, to have any chance at all with her, don't push. He knew that instinctively. Finn had even seen other guys try with her. None got as close as he, and pushing her was a one-way ticket out of the running. It was his only comfort. It was the only way he could watch her go to prom with someone else. Braswell may have the prom date, but he'd never get closer than that, no matter what the other guy hoped.

"Try again." She stopped as a library patron passed the two of them to sit at a window seat. Sousa nodded. "Go ahead, try again. Eyes open."

"Look, it didn't work. Eyes open or closed won't matter. I tried." Finn leaned back in his chair, not sure he should have ever told her about all of this in the first place. This gray layers experience? Yeah, it was hard to get his head around and he'd been there! How much weirder did it sound to someone else? It made him look weird. In front of the last person he wanted to think of him as strange. "Look, I get that it's wild. Probably is like you say. Stress, getting shot. Pain killers at the hospital. Whatever."

"You idiot. I always believe you." Sousa countered with a tilt of her head.

Finn eyed her carefully, but her face was open, watching him. Believing him, even when there was no way anyone would or should. "You experienced something, and obviously so did Justin. I've rarely seen him this involved. I just don't know that what you saw was real. I want to watch you while you try this."

Her calm support, even if she didn't believe him, was close enough. It made him feel better about the whole thing. At least until Justin hurried back into the room, depositing more books on top of the stack he'd already made. The fourteen year old looked back and forth between the two critically. He sneered at Sousa. "You told her. Of course you told her." He said caustically.

"I want him to try again."

Justin stiffened very slightly, then took a deep breath. "Yeah. Good idea." He shifted his weight slightly, as if nervous about the idea but not wanting to admit it. "Maybe it would be better with two witnesses."

Sousa firmed her chin and nodded. Justin moved closer, his expression shuttered.

"Oh crap." Finn slumped back into his seat as Sousa and Justin stared at each other. Those two never got along, in fact, they pretty much only tolerated each other. Barely. Loathing was a good word for those two. Finn just hoped Sousa didn't mention that he'd told her Justin had been frightened and holding on to him. His baby brother wouldn't take that well, and there was no telling how he would retaliate.

Finn looked around at the library reading room. Not too many people in here. A guy in the corner set up with a newspaper, reading intently. Two girls were off to one side, one twirling a pen in her hand as she made notes and paged through some magazines as the other one pointed out items. One white-haired man was typing on a laptop, his fingers flying faster than one would suspect considering how old he looked.

Finn frowned. "Maybe we shouldn't try it here though. I doubt there's many ghosts in the library."

Justin's own frown faded and he suddenly looked smug. "Dummy. I didn't see a ghost. I saw a lady half-way undressed reaching for a weapon that didn't look old-fashioned at all."

"Half undressed?" Sousa turned to stare at Finn, her blue eyes suddenly looking guarded. "This was the 'something' your ghost was doing?"

His face flamed red as Finn closed his eyes. They flew open again as she struck his shoulder sharply, making him wince.

"Eyes open, you peeping Tom." Sousa gave him an evil look. "Remember, it's only happened when your eyes were open."

Justin held up some of the books he'd scrounged. "Look. Ghost stories? Not one mentions anything beyond the vague. What I saw? Not vague. And that weapon wasn't old-time either. And she had on a wrist watch."

"Oh you haven't had time to read any of those!" Protested Finn.

Sousa bit her bottom lip. "A wrist watch? I don't know that they had those back then."

"Maybe the ghost wasn't from the Early Federal, maybe she's more recent. A watch doesn't mean she wasn't a ghost!" Finn looked helplessly between the two staring at him. "Look, I can't explain ..."

"Shhhh! Keep it down!"

The three looked over at the white-haired man who'd been typing. He was now glaring at them.

Their voices dropped back down to whispering levels as Justin held up a fantasy novel. A very well known one. Sousa grabbed it from him, flipping it over in her hands to read the back. "You think it was another world?"

Justin shrugged. "It didn't look familiar. Nor did she look like a ghost. And yeah, even though I haven't read these ghost books? I do know that she wasn't wearing anything fancy like what would match that house. And the person I saw? She was breathing, and last I checked ghosts don't need oxygen."

Finn stilled, his mind flashing back to the moment he'd been watching her reach for a weapon. He groaned as he realized his younger brother was right. Her chest? It had been moving. He'd been embarrassed about her state of undress and more worried about what she'd been reaching for to really take notice.

Sousa looked unsure. "But a ghost could still think it's alive, right? Breathe? Or go through the motions?" She didn't seem convinced.

Justin shook his head. "I vote for an alternate dimension."

Sousa's mouth firmed and she disagreed on general principle alone. "Ghost."

Finn sighed. "Early on-set schizophrenia." He offered.

"Shut up, Finn." Both Sousa and Justin growled.

The sixteen year old let his head fall back onto the overstuffed and soft cushion on the chair. He stared up at the ceiling. White. White with natural wood trim. No. The wall had natural wood trim, the beams that supported the lights were metal painted the same color was the wood. Odd but nice, made the space look more open. At least it certainly wasn't gray.

Finn tuned out Sousa and Justin debating over fantasy versus science fiction and where the line blurred. Was he crazy? Justin had seen something at least. Seeing absolute darkness was actually something, since it was out of the norm. Dark was technically the absence of light and not a tangible object. Light may not be really tangible either, but it could be measured. What did that mean? Nothing maybe.

In the end though, Justin had seen her. He had definitely seen her, noticing things that even Finn had missed. So ...what had happened?

Finn groaned. How much weirder could his life become? He grimaced at the thought, not wanting to make things worse by tempting fate. In fact, he wished that right now he was anywhere else but here.

His sixteen year old mind churned as he tried to recall how he'd felt just before he'd seen his so-called ghost. If she even was one. In fact, he was so lost in his memories that it took him a moment to realize that the white from the ceiling was becoming transparent. Fuzzy. Gray. Strangely, his fears settled, though he couldn't say why. He felt ...at ease. Lazily he watched, pushing away from his questions as he tried to focus on what he was seeing. The ceiling was half there, and half not. But shouldn't he be seeing sky? That question too faded as his eyes finally made sense of the pattern before him.

Stone. Worked stone. His gaze moved down from the arched ceiling to the walls. Painted stone, no not painted. Covered. Tapestry? Old-fashioned. Ghosts then. Finn frowned. But since when did tapestried rooms made of stone have electric lights? And those sconces on the wall weren't flickering. No flames then.

No. He didn't want to be here either. He ....for lack of a better term, pulled his mind backwards. Away. Finn didn't react as the stone disappeared, fading from before him.

Layers. He was back to seeing layers of gray but it was different this time. Instead of seeing layers like transparency sheets laid over each other, like at the hospital ...this was more like an old index card holder. He was looking at layers attached to a core. Some of these were very thin, overlaying others and some were thick as a slab of concrete, while some were even more massively substantial.

He stared at one as thick as the width of his hand and as he watched so intently, the interior became clearer to him. Rain. Open fields. A muddy road cutting through the landscape as thunder and rain pounded the earth all around. Normal enough. But not somewhere he wanted to be right now. Relying on instinct he pulled back mentally.

Once more he was left looking at the ...something. The thing that looked like a flip book or index file. The old-fashioned kind, sort of similar to pages in a book he guessed. Though most books had pages all the same size and thickness. This didn't.

He looked toward one side and each layer seemed to get progressively lighter in shade. He looked toward the other side, yeah. Darker. Spots and threads of light in some, not a uniform color gray at all. And some seemed sort of stuck together. Weird.

Weirder was how he could see all around him, just like a full circle. It wasn't like there was a back of his head or that he was 'seeing' with actual eyes. He could just see. Layers upon layers, and all circling a central core. Wagon spokes? No. He mentally sighed. It was impossible to describe what it really looked like when he really didn't have anything to reference it to in the first place.

The core upon which all the different layers seemed to be attracted too weren't connected by anything he could see. And the core looked to be in three different sections itself. All quite light and shiny, but growing far too bright to really look at the closer to the center it got. Just trying to look at the innermost part was painful.

Instead he shifted his focus back to the layers. One in particular pulled at him. A darker slab, thick with bulges on either side. Not smooth. He looked around him. The layers seemed to go on forever into either a dark or light horizon, depending on which way he turned. The one before him he knew was his own. Home. He didn't know how he knew, instinct maybe.

There was a rather thin layer to one side, slightly lighter than the one that he knew was 'his'. He reached for it, but didn't touch. The closer his hand moved, the less energy he seemed to possess. He stilled. He tried to drop his hand, but felt stuck somehow. Unable to move.

Inertia gave birth to a low level anxiety. Was he stuck here? Forever? Would that really be a bad thing? It was at least peaceful here. Only he couldn't quite remember who he was or why he was even there in the first place. When had he forgotten? How long had he been here?

His body wouldn't move. No matter how hard he concentrated, it would not move. Finn. The name appeared out of nowhere, as if called. Yes. That was he. Finn. And with the name came the realization that his mind was still working. His body wasn't moving, but his thoughts could still move. With that realization, his thoughts not only began to move, they began racing.

Sousa. Justin. Mac. Deann. Roger. Tom damn him Braswell. School. Ghosts. His plan. Yeah, it wasn't much, but it was his. He didn't want to remain here, stuck forever.

What had he done to go from the stone and tapestried room to out here? Pulled back mentally? Instinct failed him. He wasn't sure what to do. But he did know where he wanted to go. His thoughts shifted away from other layers and back to the one he knew as his. Home.

Finn pictured the thick gray layer with the strange bulges on the sides and dark gray with only hints of light threading through, like marble. Not as dark and almost black as the other layers were as they progressed. A medium dark gray. Home. Suddenly the layers flipped and he was left staring at the 'home' layer. But how to access it?What was the opposite of pulling away? Pushing in? But how?

Longing had a picture forming in his mind. A white ceiling with natural wood trim, metal beams painted the same color. The rest of it came naturally. A quiet reading room. A soft chair. And ... he opened his eyes, relieved to see the right ceiling above him. He was back in the library.

He must have fallen asleep. Finn sighed, then winced. Unfortunately his headache was back in full force, worse than ever before.

Painfully Finn lifted his head and stopped, finding Sousa staring at him with her mouth wide open.

"What?" He asked, wincing as he reached up to rub weakly at his forehead.

Sousa stared at him, then looked around the room. Finn blinked against the thundering pain in his head, and then followed her gaze.

Justin. On the floor. That didn't make sense. No one was paying him any attention, everyone in the room except for Sousa was gathered around his little brother. He stood to get a better look, feeling sick to his stomach.

His closest friend leaned in toward him. "Where did you go?" She hissed.

"When?" Finn had to ask, even though he was afraid to hear the answer. He had hoped he'd fallen asleep, just fallen asleep. He wanted it all to be a dream. Then realization. He'd left? He'd actually left the library and had been someplace else? "I was gone gone?"

Sousa nodded, not speaking.

Elation. Finn smiled in spite of his crushing fatigue. He wasn't crazy. Sousa wouldn't lie to him. He'd actually left here!

"It's easing."

A male voice interrupted his chain of thought. The older man that had been typing so furiously earlier was now leaning down next to .... "What's wrong with Justin?" He asked hoarsely, his elation slipping away as he watched a group of people hovering over his little brother.

Sousa's face was pale as one of the librarians ran into the room. "I've called for an ambulance."

"Ambulance?" Finn echoed the word weakly, his startled eyes meeting Sousa's own wide gaze.

"Seizure." Sousa whispered hoarsely.

Justin tried to sit up as they watched. "I'm fine, I'm fine." Protested the fourteen year old even as Mrs. Whittal and a few others rushed into the room, following the source of raised and panicked voices in the otherwise quiet library with a mother's unerring instinct.

Mrs. Whittal's eyes went first to her own child, satisfied that Sousa was unhurt. Her breath caught as she spied Justin on the floor, protesting that he didn't need an ambulance. The mother's expression turned stubborn as she shook her head and pulled out her cell phone.

Finn swallowed hard, his vision going hazy and he wondered for a moment if he was going to slip back into that other space. Instead he stumbled, feeling wobbly. Sousa reached for him and he let her push him back down into his chair.

It wasn't a dream. He wasn't crazy. He and his brother couldn't be separated. Fact. Awful, horrid fact. When apart Finn would go still, nearly catatonic. Was that what had happened to him in that strange place? Was it even a real place, as opposed to a state of mind? Except Sousa had asked where he had gone, and she'd been watching him.

Nausea rolled over him and Finn swallowed quickly to try to keep his stomach in place.

And Justin. Poor Justin. Finn's world spun as for the first time he felt sorry for his little brother. As bad as it was going blank like he would when separated, apparently the younger boy would have actual seizures.

He could never leave Justin now. Never. Finn's thoughts for the future shattered completely. He finally had a way to escape. A means by which to get away from everything.

A key to other places.

And he couldn't use it to get away from the one person he wanted to leave the most. Sympathy warred with resentment, and it didn't appear to be winning.

"What happened?"

Finn looked up into Mrs. Whittal's worried face. He didn't have an answer for her, or for himself.