AN: To any readers still reading this story, I'm so sorry it has taken me almost a year to get back to this. My muse decided to abscond to Antarctica and only just recently returned. She didn't even bring me a souvernir. *pouts*

Anyway, huge thanks to Meeshie, as always, for being the best beta I could have, for finding ways to get the words out of me, and helping to make sense of them.

Also - Please see the end notes! :-)

The pea green Hyundai rolled up the bumpy drive, kicking up dust as it came to a stop in front of the run down plantation house. Siding in dire need of a power washing held up a deeply slanted roof that spilled out over a wide, wrap-around porch. The entire foundation was comprised of many 3-4 feet high brick pilings, with a rickety set of porch steps leading up to the front door. Carol hoped they were sturdier than they looked. There was no railing and she wasn't looking forward to a broken ankle.

The passenger door opened and shut as she approached the porch steps, and she could hear Glenn's footsteps crinkling in the dried autumn leaves behind her.

"Dude, this place is creepy!" Glenn said in a hushed voice, a tint of awe coloring his observation.

"It's pretty old, but I like it. It looks like it's got a lot of good bones underneath." Carol responded.

"I just-"

"Don't even go there, Glenn. Not real bones." Carol cut him off before he could crack a joke, shaking her head at his predictability

"Awh man, you couldn't let me have that one?" His face twisted in disappointment, like she'd taken his favorite candy away from him.

"You'll get over it, now focus!" she whispered as she rapped on the old wooden door, peeling paint chips fluttering to the porch with each knock.

The thudding of booted footsteps approached, the door knob squeaking as it turned, and she found herself staring into the blue eyes of a complete stranger - - a complete stranger that she felt she had known all of her life. It was the most discomforting sensation she'd ever experienced, which was saying a lot considering what she did for a living.

"Mr. Dixon? I'm Carol Peletier and this is my partner, Glenn Rhee. We're with Peachtree Paranormal. You called us to come and take a look around your house?"

"Uh yeah, uh, just come on in. Watch yer step right there; that board's loose."

He waved them in, and moved back out of the way. Crossing his arms under his chest, he squinted at them, eyeing their shiny black laptop cases and rolling duffel bags as they bumped over the threshold.

Carol stopped in the foyer, taking in the the aging remains of grandeur: yellowing whitewash on the ceilings, cracks in the walls, peeling paint, and creaking floorboards; design that was once opulent and spoke of untold riches and wealth, now showed all the shabbiness of a forsaken home.

She turned to find Mr. Dixon watching her, his intense blue eyes fixed in her direction. Something flickered there, behind his gaze, and she felt a twinge, deep in her chest, and an odd sensation-like a band tightening around her ribs. Her spirit quivered at a throb deep in her soul, and she closed her eyes as she felt the very shimmer of otherworldly presence vibrating around her. There was something here.

"Where have you noticed the majority of activity, Mr. Dixon?" Carol asked, opening her eyes. She was anxious to get started, to discover what lay beneath the surface, eager to unravel the mysteries before her, both the house and the man.

"Call me Daryl," he mumbled, before turning to the hallway and living room. "Here in the living room's where I was knocked out last night, and b'fore that it was in the hall, through there." He motioned off towards the back of the house.

"Glenn, setup the thermal cameras here and in the hall while I work on getting the audio equipment together," Carol said. She turned and looked at Daryl, compassion and curiosity softening her features as she began the explanation of their investigation.

"So, a quick overview of what we do is, we gather readings of a variety of different types, in order to help rule out common causes for activity. For example, Glenn is using thermal cameras to detect temperature changes, which may or may not be caused by drafts from unsealed vents, furnaces, cracks in walls and foundations, et cetera. These readings help us determine if any activity is explainable, or anomalous in origin. It doesn't prove or disprove that there are spirits or otherworldly beings present."

She paused to ensure he didn't have any questions, that he was taking it all in, and understanding what she was explaining to him. Many people had the wrong ideas about the tools they used, and she liked to be as upfront as possible. She didn't volunteer any information about her own unique capabilities unless it became apparent they were needed, though she already felt they would be very necessary in this case.

"Yeah, okay," he said, thoughtfully. "What's that stuff there? What's it measure?" Daryl asked, pointing to the devices she had lined up next to a notepad in front of her.

"This is an EVP recorder. EVP stands for Electronic Voice Phenomena. We make recordings while asking questions to allow the opportunity, if there are supernatural beings near, for communication. We play them back later, analyze them, and determine if there are any sounds or noises of unexplainable origin."

She placed the recorder down and picked up the meter next to her.

"This is an EMF meter. EMF stands for-"

"Electromagnetic frequency, yeah, I know that one," he interrupted her, his ears turning red when she looked up at him with a raised brow.

"Yes, electromagnetic frequency. Now, electromagnetic fields are present everywhere, invisible. We take baseline readings before we begin, and then we have something to compare it to, if during an investigation we measure spikes on the meter. Sources may be electrical, magnetic, or natural, and high readings do not in themselves indicate spiritual presence."

She finished the oft repeated explanation, giving the usual disclaimers, before asking him to show her through the house so she could take the afore-mentioned baseline readings and record them.

The house itself was sparsely furnished, plastic drop-cloths, ladders, and sawdust littering the various rooms. She could smell paint thinner and turpentine coming from the bedroom they were passing, and felt a breeze from the window that was opened to allow ventilation in the room.

"We may need to close that later, before we get started. It helps to have a more controlled environment," she explained, jotting notes down in her notepad.

"Sure, no problem," Daryl said, crossing the room, boots scuffing in a thick layer of dust, and she couldn't help but look up as the window in question creaked, a horrible grating, screeching noise as he strained against the rusty chain pulley in the window track.

"Need ta oil this sucker. Item five hundred seventy-two on my to-do list," he muttered.

She was momentarily struck by the vision of him standing there in the light of the setting sun, his biceps flexing and bulging as he fought to aid gravity in the shutting of the window. It slammed down, debris puffing out of the sill, and he dusted his hands on the thighs of his faded and paint-splattered jeans.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she looked back down to her notes, trying to find where she left off as she thought to herself that this was definitely going to be an interesting night.

"My name is Carol. I would like to ask you some questions. Is that okay?" Carol paused, allowing time for any reponse to be captured on the audio recorder.

"I promise to be respectful, and deferential to you and your space. I only request that you treat me with the same regard. I have a recorder set up to tape our conversation. If you would like to communicate to me, you can, using this device. Please feel free to speak or make noise into the device so I may talk with you."

Carol spoke clearly, enunciated each word, pausing between sentences. Her voice was calm and serene, a peacefulness emanating from her, drenching the atmosphere in tranquility. She continued in this manner, asking yes or no questions, attempting to reach into the unknown and commune with any spirits trying to make themselves heard.

She was opening her mouth to ask the next question when she saw a flicker in the corner of the room. It stunned her and her heart quickened; she felt the beat thrumming away in her chest.

"Sophia?" The name slipped out from her lips before she could stop it, a harsh whisper in the still, quiet night.

Her daughter's form moved closer to her, and she was almost blinded by the brilliance of her image. Vivid colors floated around her, like technicolor vision. A hum filled Carol's ears and the strength of Sophia's presence almost bowled Carol over.

"Baby?" Carol asked, shock paralyzing her body, her mind. Sophia had never appeared to her outside of their home.

And then she was gone.

Vanished. The blackness all encompassing as Carol's eyes tried to readjust to the darkness surrounding her.

Despite the emptiness around her, her very skin tingled with the energy abounding in the room, as if alive, its own entity. The hair on her arms stood straight, goosebumps pimpling her flesh. Her breath coming in short pants, she stood, working to get herself under some semblance of control. She had to invite that sense of serenity back into the space, so she could continue her work, but in order to do that she needed to get out of this room.

She rushed into the hall, almost knocking Glenn over in her hurry to leave the house. She jerked away at the last moment, avoiding him, but falling into the wall, a resounding thud reverberating in the relative silence.

"Carol? Are you okay?" Glenn whispered, reaching to hold her arm and steady her.

She kept moving, slipping from his grasp, stumbling over her feet as she ran headlong into the front door, and straight into Daryl's arms.

"What's- You okay?" He held her as she shuddered and trembled against him. She was so cold, and he was a raging furnace. Her body curled into him automatically, seeking to leech his warmth.

"What happened? You trip on my tools? I shouldn't of left 'em in there-"

"I'm f-fine." She pulled herself back from him, willing her heart to calm down. She felt a wave of comfort and peace flow from him, his energy hot and healing all in one. Her spirit drank it in, seeking to regain its wholeness. He was a perfect counter-balance to all her emotions. Being near him was calming. "I'm fine," she said, this time with more conviction.

"Ya sure?"

"Yea-"

The lights flickered, interrupting her attempt at reassuring Daryl, and they both turned to look down the hall. Glenn was staring back at them with a puzzled expression on his face. A buzzing and popping noise filled her ears and the lights flickered again, casting distorted shadows across the walls. Without a second thought, she took Daryl's hand in her own, gripping it tightly, trying to impart to him more of a sense of safety and security than she felt in that moment.

The air shivered, and she felt a deep pressure, as if a silent, invisible force was pushing in on her from every direction. Rapidly it pulsed, and then reversed, and she felt a growing energy inside of her, as if she were being inflated from the inside out. It stopped abruptly, and everything was still, not a sound to be heard, not even their breaths. Everything was dampened, like there was a great void, empty of time, space, oxygen. Nothingness.

A light appeared at the end of the hall, independent of the light fixtures in the house, bright, glowing, and effervescent. Carol could see Glenn frozen across the room, suspended in animation as if time simply stopped. She stepped in front of Daryl, seeking to protect him from whatever was happening, to keep him from being injured, should this energy be malevolent in nature. He'd been hurt once before, and she didn't want to see him hurt again, especially not when there was a chance she might be able to encourage peace.

Two orbs materialized out of the light, taking the defined shapes of two small children. As they moved towards her, she could see they were young girls: blonde, blue eyed, and wearing braids plaited over their shoulders. She looked closer and gasped as crimson bloomed over their midriffs, blood soaking their hands, and dripping from their fingertips.

She could feel Daryl's hand shaking in her own, sense his fear shimmering behind her, his energy quaking unsteadily. It was up to her to try to communicate with the girls, so she gathered her wits about her and tried to center herself with a few deep breaths. Before she could speak, she heard a high-pitched, silvery voice, cold and unnatural to her ears.

"You have to let her go," the taller girl said, looking to Carol. "You can't be happy until you let her go."

Her sharp intake of breath was the only physical reaction Carol displayed to the little girl's statement. Surely she wasn't referring to Sophia. She couldn't be. It was…

"Sophia cannot find peace unless you let her go," the smaller girl said, her words harsh, deep, and rasping. "Both of you...they will be in a better place. Help each other. You need each other."

Carol's brain was whirring at the speed of light, her thoughts hopelessly tangled in an endless maze of confusion and shock.

"Time is running out," the girls chimed together, their voices discordant, screeching, little better than nails on a chalkboard. Carol cringed at the sound, her eyes blinking, and when she opened them, they were gone. The light, the girls, the quiet: it had all disappeared. Everything felt bright and weightless, full of life.

Shiny.

It wasn't just her imagination. The sun was inching above the horizon, tendrils of coral and salmon edging into the inky black and purple sky, greeting the day with unbridled brilliance.

Daryl shuddered behind her, and she saw Glenn startle ahead of her.

"What was that? Did you see the lights just flicker?" Glenn asked. He looked up and down the hallway, trying to determine what was going on, while Carol and Daryl exchanged a look full of uncertainty and burning questions.

"I need to get outta here." He spoke quietly, so that Carol was the only one to hear the question.

"Yeah, me too." She responded. "Glenn," she called out, her voice echoing down the hall. "That's it, we're done. Pack up the equipment and I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Glenn whipped his head around, looking bewildered. "You sure?" He seemed to notice the sunlight peeking through the trees, and his expression cleared. "Alright, I'll see you later. You don't need a ride?"

"Daryl'll take me home," she called out to Glenn, ignoring Glenn's raised eyebrow, and looking to Daryl to see him give her a slight nod in agreement. Glenn waved her off, and she turned to follow Daryl down the rickety porch stairs, her legs shaky and wobbling on each step.

"Wanna go get some coffee?" Daryl looked at Carol, as she reached the ground, and she could see so many questions written in his gaze, his eyes blazing intensely.

She breathed in the cool, morning air, thick with dew and the scent of fall, and nodded an affirmative. But, she thought, I just might need to make my coffee a decaf.

AN 2:

So, admittedly, I have never been on a paranormal investigation, however my husband help to start a paranormal investigators team about ten years ago. My husband is not active anymore, but is recognized as a co-founder, and the group still investigates to this day. Thus, the majority of knowledge I had on this subject came from talking to him and listening to him describe the investigations, along with watching film and listening to audio with him.

I needed to brush up on my knowledge, and so I did a bit of research for this part of the story. The following links provide more information about several tools commonly used in paranormal investigations, and also some questions typically asked by someone prompting communication with any type of spirit, presence, or energy.-

EVPs: FF won't let me put the links in here. So I went to wikipedia dot org backslash wiki and type in Electronic Voice Phenomena

EMF: paranormal dot lovetoknow dot com backslash ghosts-hauntings backslash how-emf-meters-work

Investigation questions: ghostresearch dot org backslash articles backslash evp