Hello all. Welcome to this, the follow on from Heaven Needed You. This story is only a one-shot, but I hope you all enjoy it. Oh, and thanks to all those who submitted reviews to the final chapter of HNY. Means a lot to me. :-)

Feelings

By Phoenix Sparrow

Inspired by B-Witched's song "Are You A Ghost?". Set from the point of view of Virgil Tracy. This story is a follow-on from Heaven Needed You

"Come on, Scott, quickly!" All I can feel all around me is the pressure of the fire building up around us. I look ahead of me and see my older brother making his way toward me accompanied by the man with the injured ankle.

I stand in the entrance of the Mole when I hear the rumble of the explosion but all I can do is stand there and watch the crack appear in the ceiling above where my brother is. "Scott, hurry!" I hear myself yell.

I want to run out to help him, but it's as if my feet are glued to the spot, forcing me to relive the moment I watched Scott die.

I see him push the injured man out of harm's way then watch as the rubble pours through the breach in the ceiling and bury Scott before my eyes.

A flash of white light and I'm in the hospital waiting room, my youngest brothers and my father sat quietly, waiting.

I look up as the door opens and the doctor walks in. I see her lips moving but most of the words are a jumble as she relays the extent of his injuries. Most of the words.

"I'm afraid to say that Scott didn't survive."

Another flash and I see Scott lying in the back of the Mole as he was before he was taken by the emergency services. He is covered in blood and dirt, his arms and left leg bending in the wrong places.

My eyes snapped open and my breathing was slightly faster than normal as I looked around my dark room. Even a year after my brother's death, the event still haunted my dreams.

With a sigh, I glance at the clock on my bedside unit. "Two AM," I said to myself. I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling, trying to remove that last image of Scott from my dream.

I wiped my brow in an attempt to remove some of the cold sweat that had broken out while I slept when a strange feeling came over me. It was almost as though someone was near me, but as I looked around, I confirmed exactly what I knew. I was alone in my room.

Getting out of bed, I moved around the room, knowing that it would take me a good while to get back to sleep now I'd been disturbed by these images.

As I approached my wardrobe I felt that strange sensation once again, so opened the door. Looking back out at me was the portrait of Scott I'd painted the day he died, hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door. So surprised was I to see it that I actually jumped back.

Approaching it again, I looked at it closely in the moonlight. I remembered how the day I painted this portrait, I'd only been able to see the blues. None of the other colours seemed visible to me that day and as I looked at the picture again now in the pale light of the moon, it was as though all the colours had faded to shades of blue once more.

I looked round behind me as I felt the strange sensation again, expecting to see someone stood there, only to find I was still alone in the room.

Moving quietly across my room, I headed to the door and walked barefoot down the short corridor. It only took moments, but it felt like longer as I approached the door to Scott's room. I didn't go in there often and never at night. I'd go in there sometimes just to be alone with my memories of him.

I opened the door and stepped inside the room, looking around. The positioning of Scott's room in the villa meant that less moonlight came in through the window and the trees outside his window cast shadows on the wall which danced as a breeze blew through the branches. I watch the shadows briefly, observing how some were created, some destroyed by the merging the movements were causing.

I was so hypnotised by the movements that it was a few moments before I pulled my gaze away and looked round the rest of the room. The feeling felt stronger in here.

I looked over at the bed beneath the window and closed my eyes briefly. I see Scott lying there, still and cold. Tears formed behind my closed eyelids as the memory of my brother lying there waiting to be put to rest came to me.

Wiping at my eyes, I turned and left the room, heading down to the lounge. The feeling grew stronger as I walked into the room. I looked around. The balcony doors were ever so slightly ajar but locked so they couldn't be opened further. This slight gap allowed the cool night air to flow in, causing a chilled breeze to travel through the room.

I closed my eyes again, allowing the breeze to wash over me and for just an instant it felt as though someone was lacing their fingers through my hair. A sigh escaped my lips. It felt almost exactly like I was a child again, being comforted by Scott.

When I was very young, if ever I had a nightmare, I'd end up in Scott's bedroom. No matter how tired he was, he would always make time for me. He would try to help me forget the images of my dreams and allow me to sleep next to him. He'd help me off to sleep by running his fingers through my hair, just like my mother used to as well.

The night breeze blowing through my hair at that moment felt just like my brother was there with me again. Comforting me, trying to help me eradicate the images from my dreams again, just like when we were young.

The breeze faded out slightly and I opened my eyes and looked around. I was still alone. That moment in time it almost felt like I wasn't; like he was stood there with me.

My eyes scanned the room and came to rest on the row of pictures hanging on the wall opposite my father's desk. Scott's still hung there, second in the row after John's. I went over to it, examining it for a short while. Biting my lip slightly, I reached up to touch the glass on top of the picture.

"I miss you so much," I whispered, lowering my hand.

The strange feeling made itself known to me again and I looked around the room again. Still alone. I sat down on the sofa in front of father's desk and wondered. What was the strange feeling? Was I imagining things, or was it just part of another dream? Was Scott really there in the room with me?

"Just give me a sign," I said, again in hushed tones, though didn't really expect any outcome to my request.

As I looked around, my eyes came to rest on the digital clock on my father's desk and the luminous numbers revealed it to be almost an hour since I'd woken. I realised that I needed to at least try to get to sleep. I was following a feeling, nothing more. Scott died a year ago and my imagination was playing tricks on me.

Sighing softly, I got up again and headed back to the sanctuary that was my own bedroom.

The strange sensation I'd felt that night was felt again as I walked into the corridor that lead to my room, but I shook my head. It was just a feeling. Nothing more. I went back into my room and closed the door behind me, intent on at least trying to get back to sleep.

The breeze blew in through the lounge again, shuffling papers on Jeff's desk and billowing the curtains and unseen by Virgil as he retired to his room, the eyes of Scott's portrait lit up brightly before fading out again as the breeze died down.