Stokes walked cautiously in and took the seat on the other side of the table, staring me down the whole time. I just glared at him. He seemed unsure of what exactly to say or how to start. After a moment of silence I started getting impatient.

"If your not going to say anything then leave." I demanded, my hands curling into fists on my lap.

His eyes narrowed.

"You must have felt pretty good about your self before we caught you." He said angrily.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in confusion.

"Callin' me like that. Making me believe you were innocent, that you were really trying to help me." He continued on as if I hadn't spoken. "Then you kill your guardian and lead me and three other people into a trap. An innocent man died, a good man, and that's your fault."

"I didn't call you and warn you not to go home because I had alternative motives! I didn't kill my guardian and I didn't set up that trap. I had no idea about any of it until I was given the job to watch you through the security cameras!" I defended.

Stokes' eyes widened in shock when he saw only truth in mine. He had really believed that I had tried to purposely deceive him.

And it was all true. In all honesty I wasn't sure why I had warned him at all. I just did, and when my guardian found out he had hit me out of anger in the face. He said that I was jeopardizing their whole operation with that one phone call. When I was taken from school and brought in to be interrogated, much like now, except it wasn't as intimidating, I wasn't all that surprised. Everything I told Nick that day had been true. I hadn't been trying to trick him. Then my guardian came to pick me up and everything got worse from there. He brought me to a warehouse he owned and once we got there Johnson and some of the others jumped him and killed him. They had said that he was doing his part in the fight. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that. They just used him, much like they were and probably will be used by whoever runs this whole fight. I'm not sure who it is, none of us really knew. We just did what we were told. They gave me the job of making sure that Nick and the others didn't get out after they had set the trap, a job I took reluctantly. But then they had somehow escaped and figured out a way to call and track me, that was all my fault because I had called Nick on my cell phone, leaving Johnson and I scrambling to get away.

"You had to of. Why else would you call me?" Stokes asked, clearly confused

"I don't know why I called you!" I explained, feeling like I was repeating myself. "So can you please just be grateful and get on with your life?"

Some anger flashed in his eyes and he stood up, put his hands on the table, and leaned forward.

"No, unfortunately, I can't 'just get on with my life', because your people are still out they're trying to kill me and my friends. Now you can help us and tell us what they are planning next, or we're going to put you back in your cell." He threatened.

I drummed my fingers on the table in irritation. This was going to be a problem.

"I don't know what their planning next," I admitted. "Since the day I called you they have been very tight lipped around me. I was just helping Johnson make the bombs."

Stokes closed his eyes and heavily sat down back on his chair.

"So you don't know anything?" He asked tensely. I could tell he was really hoping he could get some useful information out of me.

"No, and even if I did, which I don't," I added so I wouldn't be bombarded with questions I couldn't answer. "I wouldn't tell you."

He opened his eyes and I saw an emotion in them that I hadn't expected: regret.

"Look," he started. "I know I said I would keep you brother safe, but if my co-workers hadn't reacted when they did then innocent people would be dead. I did what I had to. It's my job."

When he said that I thought of Andy. She had said something close to that only twenty or so minutes ago, but I pushed any kind of forgiveness aside and let my anger take over. I wasn't going to forgive him. He took away the last person I had that I could call family.

"Save it." I spat. "I don't need your excuses."

Stokes licked his lips and leaned back in his chair.

"You know I'm trying to help you here, but if your not going to cooperate then you'll just get in even more trouble." He warned me.

I looked down at the ground.

"I don't think me getting in more trouble is going to make much of a difference now." I replied.

He sighed and stood up.

"It's you choice man." He said simply, then he turned and exited the room.

I was once again left alone.

"So, how did it go?" A voice behind me asked.

I jumped and fell off my chair, apparently not as alone as I though. I got up and looked behind me. Andy was standing up and leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.

"Were you here the whole time?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"No I just came in as the man left, although I did catch the last few words. It seemed as if you knew him. Did you?" She inquired.

I hesitated, but decided to answer her. She had at least tried to answer my questions before.

"He… was the CSI worker that first spoke with me, or really that interrogated me. He made a promise to me that he didn't keep. I hate him, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me." I said, making the story much shorter. She didn't need to know the details and I didn't feel like explaining them.

"Ok, so why didn't' you just except his help?" She asked after a minute of thought.

"I don't need his help. I don't need anybodies help." I defended angrily.

"Well I think your just being stubborn." She said bluntly.

I glared at her and she smiled.

"Ah ha, I seems I hit a soft spot." She said triumphantly, pumping her first into the air.

"Why are you doing this?" I groaned.

"I want to help you, but first I have to get through you hard exterior." She admitted.

"I don't have a hard exterior!" I fought her.

She raised one eyebrow.

"Then why don't you just let the man help you, what's his name by the way?" She asked absently.

"His name is Nick Stokes." I answered. "And I don't want the help of the man that is partly responsible for the death of my brother."

She closed her mouth with an audible snap and her eyes widened in shock.

"I'm sorry. I lost a brother too." She said sadly.

I looked at her with curiosity in my eyes.

"What happened?" I asked her.

For a moment I saw pain and anger in her eyes, but she quickly hid it and put up a stony expression.

"He along with both my parents died in a car accident. A drunk driver hit them head on. I was three at the time, and Brandon, my brother, was sixteen. I don't remember him much, but from what I do remember he was the kind of brother most kids wished they had. The kind that would do anything for you." She said with a sad and wistful smile.

"I'm- I'm sorry." I said with regret. I knew how hard it was to talk about these things after they have happened. I didn't mean to resurface painful memories.

"It's ok," she said kindly. "You didn't know."

I looked at her face for a minute. How could she be so nice to me after how rude I had acted towards her?

"How can you be so nice all the time?" I asked her.

She looked me in the eyes again and I was a kind of resigned sadness in them. Not nearly as bad when she had started talking about her family, but still the emotion didn't look right on her face. She was the kind of person that seemed to only ever smile.

"I guess I need to be," she answered. "Or else I'd just be full of anger all the time."

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously. She cringed and walked around the table to sit in the seat Stokes had abandoned.

"At my school kids can be cruel. They don't like me very much. Not because I'm rude or mean to them, but because to them I'm just the outcast from the orphanage, or really permanent foster care house, but that's really just the same thing." She told him.

I looked at her in surprise. She was the kind of girl I would have expected to be popular at any school. She had straight caramel colored hair cut in layers and bright lime green eyes with streaks of blue in them. She was pretty skinny and seemed to walk with a ballerina like grace.

'Oh gosh,' I thought. 'Ballerina like grace? Really? I'm turning into some kind of wuss.'

And the funny thing was that I think it was all Andy's doing, and really it wasn't a bad thing.

She took my look in a different meaning.

"I am happy though. I have a best friend, and several other friends. The kind that are really my friends. It's just annoying having people dislike you for no real reason." She reassured me.

I smiled inside. There she was being too nice again. She was trying to reassure me because she thought I was worried about her.

"What's school like for you?" she asked me.

I thought about it for a minute. Really I didn't pay attention to anything that happened at school. I probably would have dropped out right when I started helping in the whole freedom fight thing, but Huksby made me continue to go so I didn't catch any law enforcement officers attention. Sense they started watching me after Alex was killed. I didn't have any friends because I pushed anyone that tried to get close away. Andy could have gone to my school and I still wouldn't know now.

"It's fine I guess. What happens there doesn't really affect me at all. I don't really care about school. I just sort of endured it." I answered.

She nodded in understanding and put her crossed arms on the table, then she laid her head down on them. She seemed tired.

"What was your favorite subject?" she asked distractedly. Her eyes started drooping.

"I don't know? Science." I said with a shrug.

She gave a small smile. Her eyes were closed now.

"I like reading class and just reading in general." She told me. "My favorite book when I was younger used to be The Little Princess. I liked to imagine that something like that would happen to me. A nice rich family would come and take me away from that blasted foster house, and give me a better life. Never happened though, obviously. Now I read stuff by people like Ted DekKer, Frank Peretti, and James Patterson. Reading is the best."

I laughed quietly. Her drowsiness was making her sentences sound funny, and I couldn't disagree with her last statement more. I hated reading. It just wasn't for me. I opened my mouth to say something else, but stopped when I saw her even breathing. She had fallen asleep.

I was starting to think her first theory was diffidently wrong. I was pretty sure ghosts didn't sleep. This made me happy, because I really didn't want her to be dead. Even though I hadn't known her long I reluctantly considered her my friend.

Hesitantly I held my hand out to push away a strand of hair from her peaceful face, but my hand went right through and I pulled away quickly, not wanting to wake her up.

It was very strange not being able to touch her. It was even stranger not being able to touch her when she was touching something solid and not going through it.

I sighed and laid my head down on the table just like Andy and tried to fall asleep. I was still wound up about what had happened today, but I managed to fall asleep within a few minutes. Gratefully letting the darkness consume me.