Amy woke up early the next morning, but couldn't find the will to get out of bed. Her old blanket barely protected her from the chill of the house, and she glared at the ceiling. Why was it so cold in here?

"Knock-knock…" Tess poked her head in. "Hey, baby, how you feelin'?"

"Like I sprained my ankle and got a contusion."

"Well, what a coincidence." She said, stepping fully into the room. "That's exactly what happened."

"Why is it so cold in here?"

"Is it?" Tess shrugged. "The heater's working fine, but there's quite a wind chill outside. Now are you going to have to stay in bed all day or what?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Don't count on it. I bet you didn't expect to be babysitting two people."

"The more the merrier." Tess said cheerfully. "Would you like anything for breakfast?"

"I can get it." Amy reached over for the crutches, which she'd leaned against the wall next to her bed.

"Now, baby, you'd better be careful."

"I can take care of myself, Tess, don't worry. You just watch Christopher. I'll be fine." She hobbled out of the room, trying to make a graceful exit. Tess sat heavily on the bed she'd just vacated.

"Father, I know you only give us as much as we can handle… but you've got me on the list for sainthood with this one."

"She's very stubborn, isn't she?" Monica asked, appearing with Andrew.

"Tess, I still don't understand. What is it exactly that we're supposed to be doing here?" Andrew asked, sitting at Amy's desk.

"We are supposed to be teaching this girl to feel." Tess said, picking a box up off the vanity. "And what do you make of this?"

"Batteries, cases, cleaners…" Andrew opened one of the smaller boxes inside. "Hearing aids."

"I didn't notice that." Monica said, surprised.

"They're the kind that fit inside your ear," Andrew said, looking closely at them. "I didn't see them either. How long has she had them?"

"Well, she's had a hearing disability since birth. She's had the hearing aids since kindergarten. It's a disability she's adapted to marvelously, until recently."

"What happened?" Andrew put the things down and folded his hands behind his head.

"High school happened. She became self-conscious, and has trouble with crowd situations. She doesn't go out with groups of friends because she can't follow the conversations and hates to have to ask people over and over to repeat what they said. A few months ago she quit her first job at the Theater down the street."

"The Theater?" Monica asked. "Is she an actress?"

"No, baby, the Theater has a stage, but it's also a banquet hall. She was a busgirl. But she had to answer to people her age, immature people. Boys who talked down to her. She didn't get respect, and that was a big thing. She hates the word 'retard', because she thinks that's how some people view her, and she's determined to be normal."

"She certainly seems normal." Andrew said hesitantly. "But did you notice anything… off?"

"What do you mean?" Monica asked.

The Angel of Death worked his jaw, looking down the hallway she'd just gone down. "I don't know. Just a feeling."

"Well, you'd better go, babies." Tess said. "I think Christopher is—"

The baby wailed from the room next door. The other two angels smiled.

"I think we'll stop by later," Andrew said. "Just to check up on how she's doing."

But he was speaking to an empty room.



A few hours later, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Amy called from the dining room.

"No you won't, you will sit right there. Lord knows we need that fire."

Amy shrugged and went back to lighting the logs she'd managed to stack in the fireplace. Tess balanced Christopher on her hip and opened the door.

"Hey. Is Amy around?" Came a rather familiar voice. She looked back.

"Andrew?"

"Yeah. How's your leg?" He walked the rest of the way into the living room. "I brought Monica with me to look at it. And Sara called me and said your coach usually works out with you in the morning."

Amy's eyes lit up. "Yeah! We got the weights downstairs."

"Now, Amy, I don't know if you should—"

"Oh, come on, Monica, I'll just work my arms. I won't do anything to my leg. Please?"

Monica sighed, looking at Andrew. "All right. But how are you planning on getting downstairs on crutches?"

"I've done it before. I'll do it again." She stuck one crutch out and used it to push herself up off the ground. "There's your fire, Tess."

"Thank you, baby." She sat in front of it with Christopher. "We'll just sit here while your crazy sister goes downstairs and kills herself, ok? Yes we will…"

Amy rolled her eyes and started through the dining room to the kitchen and down the stairs. Immediately to the right was the workout room she and her dad had set up. Next to that was the rec room and under the stairs was the laundry room. Andrew raised an eyebrow, looking around.

"Not a bad place."

"I like it." She said, sitting herself on the bench. "Spot me?"

"Sure." He positioned himself behind her, keeping a hand out to catch the bar in case it should drop. Monica sat down on a machine nearby.

"Have you been having any trouble with that?" She asked, pulling out a bandage. "Shooting pain?"

"Only when I step on it." She gasped out, heaving the bar upward once more before finishing. "I assume that's natural." She hopped over to the Universal and began to set the weight. Andrew wandered around, hands behind his back, looking at the awards on the wall.

"Cross country, track, basketball, tennis, basketball, basketball, basketball…" He turned to her. "Sounds like you keep busy."

"I try." She said, gritting her teeth. "Helps to have something to concentrate on. Keeps your mind off stuff."

"You have a lot of stuff to think about?" Monica asked softly. Amy didn't reply. "Amy?"

"Huh? Say that again?"

"I asked if you had a lot of stuff to think about."

She snorted. "I'm sixteen, Monica. What do you think?"

"I think you didn't get tired yesterday." Andrew sat on a bench directly across from her, so she couldn't avoid his gaze. "I haven't known you for very long, but already I can tell you're not the kind of person who slows down for no reason when you have somewhere to go."

"Yeah. Well, Andrew, I'm human. What can I say? Maybe I didn't eat lunch that day."

"Did you?"

Amy sighed and let the weight drop. "Look, my business is my business. You don't want to get involved, believe me."

"Is it drugs?" Monica asked, though she really didn't think it was.

"No! Are you crazy?" Amy glared at her. "That's the last thing I need."

"Good." Said Andrew. "Then what was it?"

"I thought of something, ok?" She threw up her hands. "I happened to think of something, and it distracted me. That's all. I made a mistake. People do that, you know."

"Yes they do." Andrew nodded. "But I don't think that's the end of it."

"I think you'd better go." Amy crossed her arms and looked at the ground. "I, uh… I don't think I want to lift anymore today. I'll just get tired."

Andrew looked at her, not speaking. Finally she looked up at him, and he thought he saw her eyes moisten. "Ok. We'll go. I'll be back tomorrow morning in case you want to do something then."

"Whatever." She grabbed her crutches and made her way into the rec room, dropping onto the couch.

"Walls, walls, walls…" Andrew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Why can't I get through to her?"

"I wasn't able to either," Monica reminded him. "Give it time, Andrew. I'm sure we have some."

"Yeah. But how much?" He asked softly, looking at the door to the other room. "I need to help her."