Ok, guys. It's the sequel.

I know it's been a long time coming. But I've been working on original writing and other fanfictions and suffice it to say, there's been a lot going on.

But I've been working on this too.

OK, I'm not going to go on for ages about the story. But it is going to be formatted a little differently. Last time, the entire thing was told in first-person from Isabelle's POV. This time-this time, it's going to alternate. One chapter, from Isabelle's POV in first-person, the next in third-person. I hope that doesn't annoy anyone, but I thought it was the best way to get inside the other character's heads a little, and to see some other events that are going on.

Now. Updates. I've already written nearly seven chapters of this, but I'm going to update every few weeks. This is partly to take down the pressure a little (because, when I'm pressurized, I get writer's block, which obviously would not help the update situation.) and also, because, hopefully, already having a few chapters written will make it easier for me to update more frequently. Last time, I think I left it almost two months between chapters which wasn't good. At all.

Anyway, I will try to update this frequently but I can't give exact dates. Big apologies, if updates occasionally take longer than usual. I promise it doesn't mean the fic is abandoned. It just means I'm taking a bit longer than usual. And I'll finish it.

Anyway, that's it for the author's notes. Oh, and the soundtrack-because I'm arrogant enough to presume everyone wants to know my music taste, I'm going to post a few of the songs that just sort of get me in the mood to write each chapter at the end of each and then put them all together in the last chapter. Just as a bit of interest.

Anyway, that's it. Hope you enjoy the story-and hopefully, leave a review.

Oh, and I'll just put the chapter title here in case it doesn't show up at the top, because Fanfiction's not letting me put in a chapter title and I don't know why. :(

hallowgirl :)

Chapter One: Flickers of Vision

The little boy's body is in my arms, his eyes meeting mine. "Isabelle?" he says, his voice trembling, a crack of terror in the middle of the chaos surrounding us. His eyes meet mine and I can see the blue shade at his lips, though my mind knows there must be none there. "Where is he?"

I have no answer, so I shake my head. I duck down as something flies over us, and my eyes close, fighting against the tide of memories filling my brain. My arms fasten tighter around him, but even that isn't enough to stop my own body shaking.

"Isabelle?" My eyes flicker open to meet Morgan's, and the look on his face sends chills down my spine. His eyes are wide, his cheeks colourless. "Where are they?"

The world shakes around me as I fight down a scream.

My eyes flew open, with a gasp, as though I'd been trapped underwater, oxygen filling my lungs like a gift. I shot upright, hands squeezing the sheet beneath me, my eyes casting about the familiar bedroom, as if by reminding myself of the contents, I could make the images less real.

"Isabelle?" Merrill's arms were already around me, his skin warm against mine as I turned to face him. His lips brushed my cheek, a butterfly kiss, before he pulled me into him, my head nestling in the crook of his shoulder and neck. He kissed my hair, his hands holding me against him, whispering something soothing, something that made it a little easier to breathe, easier to focus, to remember. It wasn't real...it wasn't real...

Merrill waited for my breathing to ease, for the trembling to subside, before he pulled back to look at me. "What was it, Izzy?" His voice was low, gentle, and I let my hand explore his cheekbones, dancing down to his shoulders, reminding myself of the reality of him-of what reality was.

Merrill stared at me, tilting my mouth to his in a brief, sweet kiss. "What was it?" he whispered once again, as though the words could be made stronger by sheer repetition.

I sighed, pushed my hands through my hair, hating the trembling that still wracked my whole body. "It was-" Merrill nodded, encouraging me to continue. I swallowed, chewing at my lip. "Morgan," I whispered softly, and my hand slid into Merrill's, my fingers braiding themselves with his. "It was Morgan this time." The images still filled my head, flickers of vision behind my eyes.

Merrill nodded. "What happened?"

Each night, I saw one of them, the people I cared about. Each night, they'd appear in one dream that would have me bolting upright, gasping their names, as if with one wrong breath, they could be taken away from me forever. I'd seen how easily it could happen now. I knew the things that were out there, knew how reality could be snatched away, quicker than the blink of an eye, to be replaced by a world you didn't recognize, a world you didn't understand.

The sort of knowledge that can't be erased.

"I was holding him," I whispered, even though Merrill and I were the only ones to hear. "I was holding him, and he was saying to me-" I squinted, trying to recall exactly, but some of the details were already fading. "There was noise-I think-" My eyes met Merrill's, as I felt the blood drain from my cheeks. "I think we were fighting," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Not you and me-us against something else. And I was holding Morgan and he said-he said-"

I closed my eyes, willing the words to rise up behind my lips.

My mouth opened of its' own accord. "Where is he? Where are they?" I opened my eyes and focused on Merrill. "That's what he said. That's what he kept saying. He said my name and then just those questions." I moved closer to Merrill. "I think-I think he meant you," I whispered, my eyes moving restlessly about the room, examining every shadow, every possible hiding place. "And the others."

Merrill sighed, gently leaning back to let his eyes meet mine again. "Izzy-" He smoothed my hair with his hand, pressing another kiss to my forehead. "They're just dreams. They've got to be dreams."

I swallowed. "I know" I whispered, turning over in his arms to lay my head against his chest. "But they're so-"

I sighed, letting my hands fall into his hair. "Why have they come back?" The whisper voiced the question that I knew echoed in his thoughts too. "Why? And why now? It's been over a year-"

"They won't come back." Merrill's voice was low, his hands suddenly holding me tighter, his eyes willing me to believe him. "They won't, Izzy. Not for a long time."

I leant closer to him. "When you say they-"

"You know who I mean."

"I meant the nightmares. Why have they come back?"

Merrill shrugged. "Worry? Thinking about it too much?" He sighed, pulling me closer to him. "They're dreams, Izzy. Don't worry." His lips brushed my shoulder. "I hate it when you worry." His eyes were softer now, and I sighed, burrowing deeper into his chest, my arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Sorry. I'll shut up."

Merrill's mouth was gentle as it moved to my neck, and my breath caught in my throat. "Don't be sorry. I just-" He brushed my hair off my neck, his eyes locking with mine. "I hate seeing you scared." The words were a breath of a confession, and I closed my eyes as his mouth brushed mine, my head suddenly spinning.

"I'll never let anything hurt you." Merrill's whisper was frantic against my mouth, and I pulled him back to me, his words interspersed with soft kisses, his hands stroking my skin. "You know that, right?"

I nodded, barely focusing on the nightmares, my thoughts scattered by Merrill's hands, the warmth of his mouth on mine. "I know," I whispered, my hands sliding into his hair. "And I know it's not just because I'm a girl, either."

Merrill laughed softly and the memory of that conversation in the barn, so long ago now, hovered at the forefront of my mind as I brushed my lips against his skin. I could feel his laughter, soft vibrations through his chest and I let my eyes meet his. "Love you, Merrill."

His eyes grew soft, so soft they were almost liquid. "Love you too, Izzy." His mouth found mine again, and I closed my eyes, losing myself in him, so absorbed in the sensation of his skin and his lips and his eyes, that I could almost forget the burning at my wrist, where three marks-remnants of a battle in a glass-filled room, a baseball bat whirling through the air-were still etched into my skin, a brand to carry.


"Who was the first guy who looked at a cow and thought "I'll squeeze these things and drink the stuff that comes out?""

I glanced at Morgan, who sat beside me on the bleachers, examining his glass of milk with an air of discontent. "Probably someone very bored, with not much else to do" I replied, holding my own glass out for Graham to fill. "But, trust me, he had a lot of time on his hands."

"Or she" added Merrill, his arm sliding around my shoulders. I squinted in the bright sunlight, my eyes meeting his. "It might have been a she."

"That's right." I ruffled Morgan's hair and he squirmed away, lips twitching in a grin. "It might have been."

My nephew sighed, and leaned back, biting into a chocolate bar with vigour. "When's she going to be running, anyway?" he asked, eyeing his father grumpily. "We've been here nearly two hours."

"Morgan-" Graham's expression didn't change, but his tone held a faint warning. "We said we'd come and support your sister. It's a big day for her."

"Yeah, I bet it's huge." Morgan sighed, and shifted in his seat restlessly. "A Sports Day for first graders. She's only even been in first grade three weeks."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it?" Graham turned distractedly back to the picnic hamper, shoving the bottle of milk into the cooler. "It's to help them get to know everyone."

"And we have to give up our Friday afternoon to do it."

"Morgan-" My own tone was cautionary, and I raised an eyebrow at my nephew, whose own eyes were narrowed, scanning the field for his sister. "We all came to that baseball game you wanted to watch last week."

"Yeah, but that's different. That's a sport. This is-" He gestured toward the field, evidently searching for words to articulate the contrast. "Not a sport" he finished, somewhat lamely.

"Well, it doesn't matter. We said we'd come and we're here." I shifted into Merrill's arms, my head lying on his shoulder. "She wants us all to see her run."

"I could have been doing homework," Morgan huffed, folding his arms and slouching down in his seat. "I've got loads."

"You can do that tomorrow." Graham turned back to the field, his eyes searching for his daughter. "Today, you can support your sister."

I widened my eyes. "Do mine ears deceive me or did Graham Hess just insinuate there was something more important than homework?"

Morgan sighed. "Even doing two pages of fractions would be more interesting than watching a bunch of six-year-olds run the wrong way, with some teacher blowing a whistle that nobody listens to."

Graham shot me a rueful glance. "And the teen years begin."

I sniggered as Morgan began to protest that he wasn't even a teenager yet, he was twelve "for God's sake", and didn't his own father know his age?

Merrill leaned into me, his lips brushing my neck. "How was your first Sports Day?"

I turned to look at him, my eyes meeting his. In the bright September sunlight, it was almost easy to forget about the nightmares. Everything was bright; everything was understandable. Surely, nothing could be wrong. Not here, not now.

"You know that kid Morgan was laughing at earlier? The one that ran the wrong way, cried, and then tried to kick the teacher and had to be carried off screaming by her irate parents?"

Merrill nodded, a grin already blossoming at his mouth. "Yeah?"

"I was that kid."

Merrill's laughter was silenced abruptly when I leaned in and touched my mouth to his, my hands sliding into his hair, suddenly wanting him closer. Out here, it was easy to believe that we were safe, that nothing could get us, but at night, thoughts crept into my head. Whispers, nightmares. Things I was sure I'd left behind.

And if they could still find me, what else could?

Merrill's hands found their way into my hair, his mouth warm and soft against mine. He broke away from me for a minute, his eyes burning with something, that made me shiver, despite the heat of the day. I looped my arms around his neck, brushing my lips across his again. I was aware of everything, of the way his arms felt around me, of the brushing of his shirt against my blouse, of the way my heart was pounding...

"Oh, Jesus." Morgan rolled his eyes as he turned to look at us. "Would you two get a room?"

"Morgan!" Graham glared at his son, as Merrill and I bit back grins. "Say anything like that again and you won't be leaving your room for a week."

I shook my finger playfully at my nephew, who at least had the grace to look abashed. "Disappointing behaviour, Morgan Hess. Disappointing behaviour."

Merrill sighed, shaking his head. "Very disappointing behaviour. Should be grounded for three weeks behaviour."

"Oh, shut up." Morgan's voice was low, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he turned to watch the field.

Graham's eyes narrowed, but I shook my head at him. Morgan didn't mean any harm.

"There she is!" Graham stood up, hands already clapping in applause as Bo's group-the class had apparently been split into separate groups for each mini-race-headed out onto the field, a group of small children, each with the same slightly nervous look in their eyes.

Merrill and I, and after a moment, even Morgan, climbed to our feet, all joining in the applause. I spotted Bo almost instantly, her long brown hair blanketing her pale skin, eyes narrowed in determination.

"How long's the race, anyway?" I asked Morgan, as we sat down, while the kids took their starting positions.

"About as long as it takes ten kids to sprint ten yards," was his quick answer, as the kids were herded back to the starting line.

I shifted in my seat and winced suddenly. Merrill glanced at me, eyes narrowed. "You OK?"

I nodded. "It just stung, that's all."

Merrill tipped his head to the side, confused. "What did?"

I showed him my hand, with the three scars. Three scars, to remember last June by. Three scars, to remind us all that that weekend had happened. That they had been real.

Three scars, which were stinging badly. I stared at them. They didn't look any different. Maybe it was just imagination.

Down on the field, Bo was standing behind the starting line. She was hunched over, brows knotted, before she glanced up, meeting my eyes. I shot her a smile and a wave. She grinned briefly back, before turning to face ahead, eyes narrowed in concentration. I felt a grin pull at my lips.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Merrill was still examining my hand, lips puckered with concern. I stared at him for a moment, hating the fact I'd managed to make him anxious. I kissed his cheek quickly, hand stroking his neck.

"It's OK. I'm fine." I nestled my head against his chest for a moment-next to me, Morgan rolled his eyes and pointedly looked away. Merrill's lips twitched in a smile, though the concern was not completely gone from his eyes. I turned back to the field, my eyes on Bo.

"Let's focus on the race" I whispered. "Or she'll kill us afterwards."

Merrill laughed, turning to face his niece, his own eyes narrowed as he watched the field, taking in the way Bo was crouched, face frozen in concentration. She reminded me of her father-the way she focused on things, the way she could put everything out of her mind but the task at hand. Merrill was like that, too.

I kept my eyes on her, trying to take a leaf out of her book, focusing on nothing but the sound of the whistle, nothing but the anticipatory pause, nothing but the round of cheering that followed as the children burst into speed. If I focused on it long enough, I could forget the way my skin burnt, the way the three scars ached, as though my skin had been newly sliced open.


"Third place!" Bo announced, for the fifth time that evening, her eyes bright, smile fixed in place, as though she'd just heard school had been cancelled for life.

"We heard you the first four times," muttered Morgan, but his lips were tugged in a grudging smile as Bo held up the green ribbon, which had been pushed into her hands by her overly-beaming teacher, after she had walked solemnly across the line, the third child in the group to do so.

"Well done, baby." Graham stooped to kiss her, lips brushing her hair, as she settled back in her seat, smiling contentedly now that she had established her victory. "And now, do you think, you could please try eating one mouthful of your dinner?"

Bo nodded, shoving a chicken nugget into her mouth with renewed vigour. She kept her eyes on mine as she chewed, her hair caught under her chin. "I did good, right, Isabelle?"

"You did great." I beamed at her across the table, surreptitiously measuring her growth with my eyes. It was hard to believe how small she'd seemed this time last year, her cheeks still rounded with baby chubbiness. These days, her eyes were older, her cheekbones a little more prominent. She was still only six, but she was growing up, quicker than I'd anticipated. In a way, I missed the days when she was still a little girl, her head barely reaching her brother's knee.

Merrill reached across, pretending to steal her chicken nuggets. His fingers hovered over her food, her eyes finding his grin. "Can't I have one?"

"Nope!" Bo shook her head, yanking her plate towards her, grinning harder at Merrill's laughter.

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Leave her alone. Eat your own food, you greedy-"

Merrill placed a chicken nugget between my lips, shutting me up instantly. I grinned, meeting his eyes. "You'll pay for that, Merrill Hess."

"I'm terrified." Merrill's arm slung around my shoulders, his face looking distinctly unterrified. I smirked, turning back to Bo. "How's school?"

She shrugged. "I don't like homework. I like recess. My best friend Abby plays Princesses with me. So does Chloe, sometimes."

"That sounds good" I nodded. Never let it be said that recess should be without its' princess games.

Merrill sniggered, and I shot him a warning look, raising my eyebrows. Bo was still sensitive to being laughed at-as she continually reminded us all, she was "a big girl now." Everyone tried to remember but it was difficult to stop seeing Bo as the little girl she'd always been, for as long as I'd known her.

"How about you, Morgan?" Merrill leant round my shoulder to speak to his nephew, who, for all his maturity, was currently absorbed in building a cabin of French fries. "How's middle school?"

Morgan shrugged. "Annoying. Boring. Homework." He took a bite of his cheeseburger, eyes widening over the top of the meat. "What else is there to say?"

I shrugged. "Fair estimation."

Merrill smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Your race went well" he smiled at his niece, whose eyes widened, as she swallowed her chicken nugget.

"Did you see me overtake Nicky Garrett?"

"The little kid in the glasses? Yeah." Merrill joined in Bo's laughter, as she reenacted the feat on her plate with her French fries. I glared at him, unable to fight the smile playing at my lips. "Don't make fun of little kids in glasses."

Merrill raised an eyebrow. "The kid got to the end of the line, then burst into tears when he found out Bo had beaten him. And then his parents came out and started shrieking at the teacher, like it was her fault their kid came fourth."

"And he wet himself." Bo licked salt from her fingertips with a dainty precision. "I saw him."

"All right, Bo."Graham shot her a cautionary glance, his eyes widening, clearly hoping Bo would pick up the message and quieten down.

"It went everywhere."

"All right, Bo." Graham's voice held a tone of far greater finality this time and I caught my niece's eye across the table, struggling not to giggle. She smirked at me, suddenly looking remarkably like her mother. Her smile had always been similar to Colleen's.

Morgan slumped back in his seat, pushing his mostly-eaten burger away from him. "We going soon?"

"You said I could have ice cream!" Bo, who had not even finished her main course, bounced up and down in the seat, indignant at this perceived withdrawal of a treat. "You promised!"

I glanced at Graham. "You did promise her."

Graham rolled his eyes at me. "I know I did." He turned to his son. "All right with you, Morgan?"

Morgan nodded slowly. "I guess." But he kept his eyes fixed on the table and it was then that I noticed the crease of worry in his forehead. Graham had that look when he was preoccupied with something, something he didn't wish to share with us.

I reached out to touch my nephew's hair, only for him to jerk away impatiently. "I'm OK. I don't have a fever." He caught the look on my face and his tone softened slightly. "I just-I just don't feel like eating more, that's all." He pulled the sleeves of his jacket down to his wrists, the material thick for the September heat.

Bo frowned. "I'll eat yours', then."

Morgan snorted. "You'll eat anything!"

Graham didn't bother to reprimand them. If anything, he was watching Morgan more closely than ever, eyes narrowed as if the simple act of looking at his son would persuade him to open his mouth. "If you don't want any more, that's fine, Morgan."

Morgan sighed and leaned back in his chair, as if the very act of being in a restaurant was exhausting.

Merrill leaned into my shoulder, his mouth finding my ear. "Going outside."

I turned to frown at him, and he shook his cigarette packet at me by way of explanation. I rolled my eyes, pressing my lips to his cheek. "I keep telling you to give those up."

Merrill grinned at me. "I know. But I don't listen." He slid out of his chair, cleverly ducking my swat at his arm, giving me a quick wink over his shoulder, which brought a reluctant grin to my lips. I let my eyes follow him out the door, suddenly longing to be close to him, feel his arms around me. The scars on my skin were still tingling and it seemed to knock the world a little off-kilter.

Bo was watching me across the table. "Isabelle?" She looked at me, her eyes wide, voice deadly serious.

I frowned. "Yeah?"

"Are you and Uncle Merrill going to get married?"

I choked on my drink. Graham reached over to pat me on the back, looking suspiciously as though he was trying to stifle his laughter. Morgan sniggered, casting a glance at me out of the corner of his eyes.

"I-I-" I glanced at Graham for help, but he seemed perfectly happy to keep his eyes on the plate. Hilarious, just hilarious.

"I don't know, Bo." I took a long drink of my milkshake to avoid having to say anymore. Getting married? I was only twenty-two, for God's sake! And it's not as though Merrill and I had ever talked about that-marriage-I-

I could feel my cheeks were flushed, as I ducked my head for a moment. We lived together, but that didn't mean-

"I don't know, sweetie." I forced myself to meet Bo's eyes again, and winced at the slightly inquisitorial gaze I found. "It's too early to think about things like that."

Bo frowned. "No, it's not." She took the last bite of her chicken nugget. "You've been living together for-" She frowned, counting on her fingers. "At least nearly a year" she announced brightly, after a few moments of consideration. "And that means-"

"OK, sweetheart." Graham's voice cut into the conversation, a grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Bo, we don't ask about things like that."

Bo frowned. "Why not?"

Morgan snorted with laughter as I rolled my eyes. "I'll go and check on Merrill" I muttered, sliding my chair back and heading for the door, struggling to suppress the smirk hovering at my own lips. Behind me, I could hear muffled gales of laughter from Bo and Morgan, as Graham tried his best to quieten them both. Perfect.

Standing outside the restaurant, I tilted my head back, breathing in the air. What was wrong with me? Morgan and Bo were just messing about. And what was I so freaked out about, anyway?

Perhaps it was just the whole idea of maturity. Of getting older. I didn't want to get older yet. I wanted to just- I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall.

I liked some parts of this whole being an adult thing. There were some advantages. Like being with Merrill, living with Merrill-all of that was the good part. But there'd be other parts, wouldn't there? Other parts, that weren't as good, and what if I wasn't ready, yet?

I sighed, standing upright and turned down the street, my eyes scouring the place for Merrill. What if I reached the day when I couldn't laugh about things? What if I reached a day, when I couldn't laugh at Disney films with Morgan and Bo, and just sat there on the couch instead, grumbling about how the princesses always had to be saved, and couldn't save themselves for once?

I stopped dead as a bolt of realization struck me. Oh my God. I did that now.

I stared dead ahead as though I'd been hit with something. How had I not noticed? I was getting older. No. How had I not realised this travesty? Soon, there'd come a day when I just sat and whined about the mortgage and grouched about unpaid bills, and I might not be able to remember to laugh at funny clips on the Internet? What if a day came when I couldn't remember the chapters of my favourite books and I just sat and sighed about the good old days and mourned times long lost? What if there came a time when I became all bitter and cynical and started to poke fun at childrens' stories, pointing out all the holes big enough to shove a shovel through, instead of just losing myself like a kid and rejoicing in magic and wizards and talking frogs-

"Isabelle?" I careened straight into someone and stopped dead, as the familiar hands caught hold of my arms. "Izzy, what's wrong?" Merrill's eyes looked into mine, his face creased in concern.

I blurted out the first thing that came into my head. "I don't want us to get older, Merrill. I'm scared about getting older and not reading and losing frogs and-" I stopped dead. I figured I'd probably said enough to make Merrill consider having me locked away.

Merrill, very slowly, moved his head in a nod, one eyebrow raising, as he digested my comment. I closed my eyes, running over the words in my head, wondering just how insane I'd sounded.

"Izzy-" Merrill cleared his throat and slid his hand under my chin, tilting my face to look into his eyes. "Izzy, let me promise you-" His gaze met mine, his lip quirking into a small grin. "That is just about the most insane thing you've ever said to me. But the best part had to be the bit about the frogs."

I grimaced, closing my eyes. "Sorry-"

Merrill burst out laughing, pulling me towards him, lips brushing my hair. "And what the hell are you worrying about getting older for? You're twenty-two." He raised an eyebrow, kissing my cheek. "I should be the one worried about getting older."

I sighed. "I know-and you are not old-but-"

Merrill shook his head, a smirk still dancing at his mouth. "Where did the frogs thing come from?"

I leaned my head against his chest, feeling like a complete idiot. "My insane head?"

Merrill rolled his eyes and tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. "Izzy, you are not going to get older yet. For God's sake, you've got years before you have to turn into the next Shirley Valentine. You can relax." He gently kissed the tip of my nose. "And anyway, what are you worried about? You've got ages. I've got more to worry about than you."

"What have you got to panic for?"

Merrill laughed. "I'm five years older than you, aren't I?"

"Like that makes a difference." I wound my arms around him, nestling my head into his chest, my lips brushing the hollow of his throat. He smiled, his eyes bright and I wondered how I could rebound so quickly from being lost in a sea of needless worries to feeling like there was nothing wrong in the world.

Merrill leaned against the wall, removing the packet of cigarettes from his pocket, and took my hand in his, his thumb dancing across my palm. "I told you to give those up." I gently knocked at the packet in his hand, as if that would make a difference. "They'll kill you."

"Either that, or you will, telling me to give them up all the time."

"Best interests at heart, though, isn't-"

My voice broke off as my eyes focused on something across the street. I frowned, squinting, trying to see if it was who I thought it was.

"Izzy?" Merrill turned, following my gaze, staring across the road. "What are you looking at?"

I shook my head , my eyes still fixed on the figure across the street. "That's-" I swallowed, shielding my eyes with my hand. "That's Ray, isn't it?"

Ray Reddy was standing across the street, leaning against the wall of a shop. Even from this distance, I could tell that he was gasping for breath. I watched the quick rise and fall of his chest, my own eyes narrowing. "What's wrong with him?"

Merrill was staring across the road, his hand suddenly tight on my shoulder. "I'll check, if you want."

"I'm going, too." I was already heading across the road, almost forgetting to look both ways. Fortunately, Bucks County wasn't exactly Manhattan traffic, and so there were no cars speeding toward me. If there were, I'd probably have ended up lying in a hospital bed.

Merrill rolled his eyes, as we reached the opposite sidewalk. "It doesn't help him, if you get hurt too, you know."

I shook my head, my eyes fixed on Ray. He was slumped against the wall, shaking, his eyes wide. As I reached him, he slid down into a sitting position.

"Ray?" I reached out nervously to touch his shoulder. He shuddered when my fingers brushed his shirt, almost as though he'd received an electric shock. His arms were wrapped around his knees and he suddenly looked like a little boy, curling up, trying not to be seen.

"I've got to-" His voice trailed off, and his whole body began to shake, wracked by violent tremors. I stared at him, as Merrill sunk to his knees beside him, his eyes fierce.

"Ray?" He reached out, shaking his shoulder. "Ray, say something!"

There was no response. Just a violent, constant shaking. He stared directly ahead, as though not seeing any of us at all. Behind us, a crowd had begun to form.

"Call 911." I whispered, unable to move, unable to take my eyes off him. "Oh my God, Merrill, just call-"

"Isabelle?" It was Graham's voice, that cut through the air next, and I turned to him, relieved, sure he'd be able to sort this, the way he was able to solve every crisis, sure that he'd be able to set things to rights. He was Graham, after all.

People moved aside for him, and he made his way through the crowd, sinking down to his knees beside Ray. "Ray?" He took in the situation at a glance, before glancing at Merrill. "Call an ambulance. Now." His tone brooked no argument, but before Merrill could move so much as a step, there was a rattling gasp at our feet.

"Ray?" The tremors had stopped and Ray rolled over, still gasping for breath, his eyes wild and rolling. I stared at him, my mouth grasping for words that I couldn't find. My mind searched for possible causes-an aneurysm, a stroke-something...

"Isabelle-" Ray was gasping my name and my eyes found his. He gestured with his hand, which fell to his side before he could reach for me. I took it anyway, my fingers folding around his. "Isabelle-you-you've got to-you've got to know-"

My blood seemed to turn cold. I stared at Ray. "What? I've got to know what?"

Ray rolled over, his words becoming almost incoherent. "You've got to know-they're-coming-they're going to come-they're coming-they're going to come back-"

I glanced at Merrill, who was frozen with his eyes wide. Morgan and Bo stood each side of him, both frozen, staring at the man lying on the ground before them, the man they only knew as being responsible for the death of their mother. They were both white, and behind Merrill's back I saw Morgan's fingers close around Bo's wrist.

"They're going to come back-they're coming back-" Ray rolled over and fell silent-his words died away in his throat-his eyes fluttered closed and he lay still.

There was a heavy silence.

"Ray?" Graham reached out, grabbing Ray's wrist. "Ray!" He shook his shoulder frantically, then snatched his hand back as though burnt. "Merrill!" His voice barked out of his throat almost too rapidly to hear. "Ambulance!"

Merrill yanked his phone from his pocket and began dialling with fingers that visibly shook. I put my hand on his arm without looking at him, sensing where to hold him, and felt the answering pressure of his hand on mine. Bo let out a small whimper behind us and I heard Morgan shush her. I didn't have to look to know that, despite his act earlier in the evening, he would already have his arm around his sister's shoulders.

My eyes remained fixed on Ray. My fingers groped for his pulse.

They're going to come back-they're coming back-

What had he meant? I searched his wrist with my fingers, prodding and poking for a beat of blood. But there was no throb under my fingers-no pulse of life under the skin.

Don't be stupid, of course he's alive-of course, he is-he's going to be fine-he's going to be just fine...

My chest was tight and I had to swallow, the insides of my mouth metallic with the taste of fear.

He has to be OK...

There had to be something. There had to be.

Isabelle-you-you've got to-

I shook his shoulder, my fingers biting into his shirt more viciously than I'd intended. "Ray! Ray, wake up!" I fought back a sob. "Wake up!"

Nothing.

You've got to know...

I stared at him. "What? What did I have to know?" I whispered the words, a forlorn sound in the air, knowing it was pointless. Ray lay still before me, an unmoving body of words unsaid.

Behind me, I was dimly aware of people muttering in the crowd, and of Merrill's voice as he half-shouted down the phone. "I told you, he's just lying there-he doesn't seem to have a pulse-we're checking for a pulse-" His voice rose slightly. "Oh, for God's sake, could you just get down here?!"

Graham stepped forward. "Merrill-" He held out his hand for the phone and after a moment of reluctant hesitation, Merrill handed it over. I heard Graham's voice resume the conversation, as Merrill knelt down beside me, his brows still knitted together.

"Izzy?" His hand rubbed between my shoulder blades, his eyes focused on my face. "Isabelle?"

Bo's voice sounded faintly from behind me. "Isabelle?" I heard Morgan murmur something to her, some soothing words and was struck by the fact that despite everything he claimed, he was still his sister's biggest protector.

But my eyes were still fixed on Ray. He lay so still. There was no pulse under his skin. Nothing.

He-this can't be...

But I knew it was. I stepped back from him slowly, my eyes unwilling to leave his face as Merrill's arms slid around me. I turned, suddenly unable to watch the unnatural stillness of his body anymore, desperate to look at something else, anything. I bit my lip, my face burying itself into Merrill's jacket, my eyes screwed shut, as though I could block it all out. As though I could block everything out.

The murmurs in the crowd died away to silence. In the light evening air, I could catch the faint sounds of a siren, the signal of the arrival of an ambulance, that I was already sure we didn't need.

And there's the end of the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed that-and I kind of owe Calvin and Hobbes for that line about the cow, just so I don't get accused of plagiarism. Which reminds me-I don't own Signs or any of M. Night Shyamalan's characters.

Anyway, first chapter done. Here's the soundtrack:

The Dream by the Birthday Massacre

Beautiful With You by Halestorm

Dreams by the Cranberries

I Think The Answer's Yes by the Beautiful South

My Delirium by Ladyhawke

Radioactive by Imagine Dragons.

Well, there's the first one. Reviews make me very, very happy indeed, so please leave me one. :)