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The real world is where the monsters are.

Paige ran down the sidewalk, her babysitter had been late, which meant she was late. It wasn't the end of the world, Joe was an understanding person. But the bakery was always busy on weekends, and she hated the thought of leaving him to deal with the morning rush alone.

Buy tea, she reminded herself, and applesauce. Were they out of cereal snacks? Paige shook her head. Work first.

Preoccupied with her thoughts she didn't notice the silver car coming down the road until she was halfway through the crosswalk. She stumbled back trying to avoid it, and the driver tried to slow, but both efforts were in vain.

The car hit her. Pain exploded in her thigh and lanced up through her hip as she fell. Her head hit the pavement, and star bursts of agony began pulsing in her temples.

Footsteps echoed distantly around her, people yelled, and tires squealed to a stop. None of it seemed real, like she was overhearing a news report of somewhere far away.

Then there was someone above her, a man around her age. Dark hair threaded with silver was in a messy in-between-haircuts state. Worry creased his brow.

Impossibly dark eyes met hers. An ache started in her chest, accompanied by a flood of relief. He wasn't far away. He was here.

"You're going to be just fine," he said, and she recognized his voice with a sharp sting of bittersweet regret.

Who are you? She wanted to ask, but found her mouth refused to form the words.

Darkness crept into the edge of her vision, and spread, blotting out the world. The last thing she saw was his eyes filling with panic, and then everything went dark.

Hospitals had never made Nathan uncomfortable. Most people feared pain and death, but he couldn't feel, and death was par for the course in Haven. It was different now, as he hurried down the pale yellow halls.

He knew pain again, and he couldn't handle it if after everything Paige died from a car accident. He couldn't lose her, not again. What would happen to James if she died? Would he get custody of his son? Even if he did, could he handle raising him alone?

He turned a corner, steeling his nerves for whatever waited for him. Then he saw her, and relief almost crushed him.

She sat on the edge of a hospital bed, scratched and bruised, but definitely alive. And well enough to argue apparently. "Gloria, I need to get to work."

"The only thing you need is to rest," Gloria told her, and by her tone Nathan knew any argument would be futile.

He moved to the doorway, knocking lightly on the frame. Both women turned to him. "Oh, good, you're here. Maybe you can talk some sense into this one," Gloria said.

"I'm fine," Paige told him. "Would you tell her I'm fine?"

"You can't be that fine, you're in the hospital." Nathan went to stand beside her, looking over her collection of minor injuries. "How'd this happen?"

"I got hit by a car," she said.

"I knows that part," Nathan smiled slightly at her bluntness. "I spent twenty minutes at the scene taking statements before I found out you were the victim."

"I'm not a victim," she gave a small laugh, "just an idiot. I walked right out into the road, didn't even notice the car until it was right there."

"If it were a snake it would've bit you," Gloria shook her head, probably trying to look annoyed but he could see the concern on her face.

"But instead it was a car, and it hit me."

Nathan laughed. How was she handling this so well? Last week she had screamed at the sight of a spider in her kitchen. This wasn't like Paige at all, it was so... Audrey.

He sobered. "Nothing serious?"

Gloria set the chart down on the side table with a loud thwack. "Serious enough that she isn't going to work."

"You said I couldn't go to sleep. Work is like the opposite of sleep," Paige argued.

"I also told you to rest," said Gloria.

"But—"

"No. You're going to go with Nathan to his house, let the babysitter take care of James. Nathan, you're going to keep her awake and make sure she doesn't try to go to work."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, trying not to smile at her orders.

"Fine," Paige relented, smoothing down her blouse. "Can I thank the guy that helped me, or is it that not allowed either?"

Nathan frowned. "It was a woman who called 911."

"It was a guy who helped me though. He told me I was going to be alright, and kept me from completely panicking," she told them, flashing a smile to match her light tone.

Nathan wasn't amused. "None of the witnesses mentioned a man being there."

"Tallish, dark brown eyes, some grey in his hair." She offered the vague description as she gathered her purse and pulled on her jacket. "He looked familiar actually. But, like, in a weird déjà vu way."

A horrible, unhelpful, stupidly optimistic voice in the back of his mind screamed that there was only one person who she would recognize even if she didn't remember knowing him. Shut up, he thought.

"I'll see what I can find out," he promised. "Tomorrow."

Gloria looked down at her phone, giving a displeased cluck. When she saw him watching looking at her she waved towards the door. "Get out of here. Don't sleep. Don't go to the bakery," she gave Paige a hard look.

Paige held up her hands in surrender. "I got it. I'll call Joe."

Nathan managed a smile. "A day off won't kill you."

"She saw you," Claire leaned against the neutral colored wall, watching Paige sign her discharge papers.

"She saw me," Duke agreed. Saw him, heard him, and for just a moment he could swear she recognized him. He met her eyes, face impassive. "Still advocating acceptance?"

Claire sighed in defeat. "What's your plan?"

Duke shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged happily. "Don't have one. I'll get back to you when I figure it out."

Cerulean, azure, cobalt blue, Vickie's fingers lingered over the colored pencil, glancing at the ocean once again before picking up the azure.

Most days Jimmy was too busy to go with her to possible wedding venues. So she had taken to spending her free time sketching out what the wedding would look like at each location.

"That's beautiful," a distinctly feminine voice spoke.

Vickie turned, surprised to see a woman standing on the beach near her. The woman flashed a warm smile, pushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing by and I noticed your drawing."

Vickie returned the smile. "It's too flowery, I think."

She tilted her head, studying the paper. "It's a theme, ties things together."

"Maybe. I couldn't afford that many Chrysanthemums." They could barely afford the dress. "I'm Vickie." She patted the rock beside her. "Care to sit awhile?"

"I'm Anastasia. Call me Ana." She set a hand on a rock to keep her balance as she sat, her palm slid and she gave a surprised gasped. "Oops," she muttered, as blood welled in her palm.

"I have some bandages," Vickie pulled her bag onto her lap, searching through the clutter for the roll of bandages. She pulled the white strip out. "Here, I can wrap it. Just wash it out when you get home."

"Thanks," Ana said, as Vickie bound her palm. "I'm usually not so clumsy."

Vickie shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it. Last week I tripped carrying a tray of scalpels."

"That's definitely worse," Ana agreed.

Vickie looked back to her drawing and the ocean, considering how the sky should be done. It was an unappealing grey at the moment, but Vickie wanted to imagine it would be blue for the wedding. As if the sky cares, she thought.

Her phone buzzed, and, seeing Gloria's name on her screen, she answered. "Hello?"

"Intern, we got a body in town." After giving her an address, Gloria disconnected with a simply: "Hurry."

Vickie looked at Ana apologetically. "I have to go," she told her. "But it was nice to meet you."

"You too," Ana flashed a smile.

Vickie hastily shoved her art supplies and almost finished drawing into her bag. It had been a nice day, she decided as she walked back to her car, sitting on the beach, meeting Ana.

Reaching for the door handle, she realized a drip of red was on her hand from bandaging Ana's cut. Wiping it off on her jeans she made a mental note to wash them once she got home.

"You didn't have to walk me back to my apartment," Paige told him as they neared her building.

"I know, I wanted to," he said, pleased to see her smile.

Paige crossed her arms, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers. "That's good, 'cause I sort of wanted you to too."

Do it now, he thought, as she glanced up at him, you've been waiting for the right time. Here it is!

"Aren't you two adorable," the voice was light, but there was an edge to it as sharp as broken glass.

Dread settled in his chest as he quickly turned to look at the blonde standing a few feet behind them on the sidewalk, the streetlight directly above her cast her face into shadows. The bolt gun was absent. Part of him wanted to believe that meant she wasn't there to kill them. But the I live in Haven part of him was sure she didn't need a weapon to kill them.

"Leave, now," he said flatly, but he knew she wouldn't. No vanishing act tonight.

"Nathan, what's going on?" Paige inched nervously towards him, her eyes widening when she noticed him reaching for his gun.

"Paige, go to your apartment. Lock the door behind you," his fingers wrapped around the familiar gun handle. "Don't let anyone in."

She asked, her heel wobbled as she stumbled back. "What about you?"

Bolt gun, blonde hair, she already had two of Arla's characteristics. If she was a Skinwalker... but the Troubles were over. Weren't they? Nathan glanced at Paige. "Not even me."

Uncertainty shown in her eyes, but he knew she trusted him. Enough that, despite her doubts, she would do as he asked. Before Paige could run the woman stalked forward.

He pulled his gun, leveling it at her head. She barely spared him a glance, flicking her hand as if she were swatting an irritating bug. An unseen force crashed into him, and sent him flying. He hit the road, the force sent him rolling, his head slammed into the tire of a car parked on the curb.

When his ears stopped ringing he realized the woman was talking to Paige, who seemed rooted to her spot. Maybe it was the same power that threw him that was keeping her from running. Maybe it was just fear. "Did you really think you'd get away with it?" Psycho Blonde demanded.

Nathan wanted to get up but he couldn't move, he struggled to even breathe. The wind must have been knocked out of him, he realized.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Paige's voice began to tremble. "Please, I don't have anything. I don't know who you are."

Where was his gun? His gaze swept the road as he tried to fill his lungs again.

Whether it was the terror on Paige's face or the desperation in her voice, something gave the woman pause. She tilted her head, studying Paige carefully before she burst out laughing. High, gut-wrenching laughter. "You're an overlay!"

Nathan's search for his weapon stopped. Only a few people knew about Audrey and the overlays. A few, very trusted, people.

"Well, it's no good if you don't know why you're being punished," long, pale fingers tipped with black manicured nails reached towards Paige.

Nathan gave a strangled, "No."

Her fingers brushed Paige's forehead. Paige's knees buckled as her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed at the blonde's feet.

The woman looked to Nathan, she raised a bandaged hand and gave a small, mocking wave. Then, just as before, she vanished into nothing.

The quote is Rick Riordan