AN: As always, we write for our own personal enyoyment. Pheas &Theo

CHAPTER THREE: You Can't Go Home Again

Sophia wrenched the door open and dropped her suitcase inside the front hallway.

"Honey, I'm hooome," she sang out into the silence. "Just you and me and the cacti now," she chuckled to her brother, who crowded into the hall behind her. "All the prickly things, alone together, just the way we like it."

He rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself."

Sophia wrinkled her nose at the dusty, stale air and Brandon began moving around the house, opening windows. It looked as though a cleaning service had been through the place, but nothing could wipe away the smell of emptiness. The house had been abandoned for years, ever since their grandfather had departed.

His letters said he had to leave California on business, which was strange, because as far as they knew, he was retired. But he told them he would never stop hoping they would come back and would leave the key in its usual place. They should always consider his house their own, he said, and he would know if they returned and would come for them.

She scowled. If she had known any sooner he was looking for them, they could have run away from their mother a long time ago. Sophia would have never gone with her in the first place, but Brandon was only 12 when Jeannie had shown up for one of her visits, only this time, she had a social worker with her and said they would be coming when she left. Sophia had gotten into a furious screaming match with her mother, and Jeannie had told her she would bring the police, too, if anyone forced the matter. That was when she dropped the bombshell that the man they had been living with for almost ten years was not actually their grandfather. He had not denied it. "It is complicated," he had murmured.

"We were happy here," Sophia sighed, picking up a picture of the man she stubbornly continued to think of as her grandfather. She was maybe seven years old in the photo and Brandon was four, sitting behind her on a horse. Their grandfather was holding the bridle, smiling broadly at the camera. That was just about a year after her father died and her mother disappeared for the first time.

She sighed again, running a finger gently across the photo and placing it carefully back on the shelf.

Later that night, she was stirring a pot of noodles on the stove when she heard a knock at the front door. Frowning, she wiped her hands on a towel and craned her neck out toward the vestibule.

"Who in the world could that be?" she said, looking at her brother, who shrugged. "You didn't tell anyone where we were going, did you?" He shook his head.

The door had clouded glass bricks around it, so they could see that someone was definitely there. Sophia rummaged in her purse for her pepper spray, just in case, and strode to the door.

"Who is it?" she said, once she was at the door.

"Hi there," came a male voice she did not recognize, "is Ron here? I'm a good friend of his."

"Not good enough to know he's gone, apparently," Brandon muttered, coming up behind her.

"He's not here right now," Sophia answered smoothly. "Sorry."

"Could I come in and wait for him, maybe? You must be Sophia - it's Acharnor Silvane. You can call me Archie, though. He's told me so much about you, and I'm sure he's mentioned me."

Sophia could dimly remember her grandfather and his friends talking about someone named Acharnor so she opened the door a bit.

"Archie, I'm sorry, but you can't come in right now. Grandfather won't be back any time soon." Brandon poked her in the back to let her know she'd just said too much.

Her eyes widened as she saw their visitor slip a hand in the open door, and she gripped the pepper spray in her pocket.

"I really need to talk to him about something," the sleek-haired man said in a deep voice that sent prickles up the back of her neck. "I was driving by when I saw the lights on, and I figured he was here. Do you know where he is?"

"He's not coming back here," she repeated softly, narrowing her eyes. Brandon put his hand on her shoulder, making eye contact with the stranger.

"I'm sorry you came out this way for nothing," Brandon said, his voice hard. "Now if you'll excuse us, we're in the middle of dinner." Sophia started to shut the door.

The man glanced at Brandon warily, and then his eyes flicked to the doorframe, as though calculating whether he could push his way in. When his gaze landed on Sophia's hand, however, he froze. "That's a nice ring you're wearing, Sophia," he said quietly, staring at her.

"I don't want to disturb you," he finally relented, with what he surely meant to be a reassuring smile. "If you hear from him, could you just let him know I have to talk to him? Or if you need a friend, you can call me, too. Here's my card," he put it on the ground and pushed it under the door with his foot.

"Thanks. We'll let him know." Sophia closed the door firmly, locking it, and then ran from room to room, closing all of the windows.

"Why did you tell him grandfather wasn't coming back here?" Brandon said quietly when she came back into the kitchen.

She shrugged. "There was something really creepy about that guy, Bran. I just really wanted him to leave and not come back."

"Well, I think telling him we were here alone probably wasn't the best way to make sure he wouldn't come back."

She pushed her hand through her hair. "Come on, Bran. Don't be mad at me."

He smiled and punched her shoulder. "I'm not. You know I'm not. He just seemed awfully interested in you - and in your ring," he added thoughtfully, nodding at it.

"Yeah," she said. "Maybe he thought we were married or something and you were about to wreck him."

Brandon snorted. "Don't think so, dear sister. He knew who you were, and even if he didn't already know who I was, it's pretty obvious we're siblings."

"So I'm told," she acknowledged. Except that people always thought Brandon was handsome, with his tousled dark curls, bright, blue eyes, and long, rangy frame. No one seemed to find the same traits as attractive on her. She could blame it on her grandfather, she supposed. He basically raised them both to be boys. Her childhood, until her mother took them away, was all riding, hunting, and camping in the desert and up in the mountains with her grandfather and his cronies.

"He was definitely staring at the ring," Brandon insisted, eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, Melia did say it would keep us safe, didn't she?" Sophia sighed. "You know, maybe living alone in the middle of the desert wasn't such a great idea, after all."

"Now you're worrying too much," Brandon smiled. "We'll be fine."

She nodded absently, "Maybe we should go looking for them. Melia, Del, the others. Maybe they'll know where Grandfather is."

"Yeah," Brandon agreed, yawning, "tomorrow morning. Late morning. Let me sleep in, okay? I hardly slept at all last night."

"Lazybones," she joked, though in truth, she had not slept, either.

"That's right," he smiled, "and I'm taking my lazy bones to bed. Don't stay up too long." He kissed his sister on the cheek.

Sophia waited until she heard Brandon leave the bathroom and go into his bedroom. Then she took out the letter from her father and read it again carefully. The date was only two days before he died, in circumstances the Army had never fully explained. Did it have something to do with the little old man and his stone? Or maybe he had just found the bad guys in their cave?

Sophia sat, staring blankly at the letter for a good 20 minutes, rubbing her temples absently. Then she rose suddenly and crept down the hall to her old bedroom, which looked exactly the same as it did on the day she left it, more than six years before.