(A/N The long awaited fourth chapter of Spectral Viewer Sorry to all the people I kept waiting and sorry to all the people who dreaded me continuing... Oh, and I thought I should mention that this is really just like a filler chapter, hopefully the stuff in the next chapter I'm working on will be better.)

Time has a way of flying by and standing still all at once. This is never more apparent than when the one keeping track is dead.

The first few days Royce spent with Joey and Dennis went by like a flash. A few moments stuck out in his mind, like a particularly scornful look from Dennis which seemed to say It's bad enough she wants to do this for me, but why on earth for you?

Royce didn't blame him. He couldn't understand why she'd risk bringing him back to life. He had meant to ask her, but the time never seemed right. He chuckled inwardly. A ghost worried about tact.

He looked up from his silent reverie as Joey came into the room. She circled a while, looking at the Ectobar etchings before sitting down beside him.

"Two more days," she said wistfully, then looked at her watch. "Well, if you want to get technical, 44 hours and 37 minutes. It seems like forever."

It was quiet for a moment, because Royce didn't know how to respond. Joey broke the silence.

"Ever since I told you what I have to do, you've been wondering about one thing." She sat back, seemingly relaxed. "Why would I do something like this for someone like you."

"Is that another one of your psychic gifts?" Royce was surprised at the cynacism in his voice.

Joey laughed anyway, a tired sound that tugged at Royce's psyche. "No. Just logical deductions really."

"So," he decided the time was right. "Tell me why."

She sighed. "I've always been a strange person, and the visions don't help that any. Sometimes they're good. Sometimes they're bad. Some are preventable. Some are set in stone. I don't know why I have these abilities, but I have always known one thing and that is this. This is my recurring vision. When I was a child I knew I would have to do this. I didn't understand then, but I think I do now. It's like some weird destiny thing, I guess."

"So. All of this –what you're doing, me meeting you—you're saying it's all destiny?"

Joey smirked and said laughingly "I can't even begin to know, but wouldn't it be a kicker if it were?"

Royce didn't know why, but that seemed to relieve his anxiety a bit. It didn't answer his question, though he was starting to accept that he would never learn the answers.

Joey grew nervous suddenly. She kept looking at him like she had something to ask him. Finally she voiced her thought.

"Royce, there's something I want you to do for me." She moved to the table in front of him and sat down, their knees almost touching.

"What," he asked, a little distracted by their knees.

"Well, there's a school of paranormal thought that speculates ghosts come back in what they think is the form they died with."

He was a little confused, but she continued before he could say anything.

"I want you to concentrate really hard and imagine yourself without your scars."

Royce was taken aback. It sounded ridiculous. He could change what he looked like by thinking about it. He voiced his opinions.

"Just try, please," Joey pleaded.

Royce sighed. He closed his eyes and tried seeing it. He had no luck.

"It's not working."

Joey was undeterred. "Try picturing something you did or saw when you were alive. Looking into a mirror, a dream, something."

He tried again. A memory from his childhood didn't work. Neither did an awkward memory of glancing at his reflection in the waxed surface of his car. He was about to give up, but he knew she'd keep trying to make him. Why was she doing this to him? Wasn't it enough she had dropped this whole re-living thing on him? Now, she wanted to screw with –

"Royce!" Joey sounded surprised.

He opened his eyes. He hadn't noticed the tingling sensation that spread across his right side. He reached a hand up to his right cheek and his eyes widened. His skin was smooth! No scars, just soft cheek flesh.

Royce let out an astonished sigh. "I can't believe it worked." His hand lingered a bit longer. "Does it make me look better?"

Joey's fingers reached up to caress his face. "I don't know. I thought the scars looked wicked awesome."

He covered her hand with his and pressed it closer to him. ""I wish I could feel your hand," he said quietly.

She pulled away slowly, ropping her hand to her lap. "Yeah, I wish you could, too."

She looked down at her fingers, twiddling them nervously. Royce thought his heart would break. He imagined she had sat like that quite often; sad, alone, no friends to cruise with, no one to love her like she deserved.He took her hand, interlacing their fingers, and moved to sit beside her.

"What are you doing," she asked softly.

He leaned in to face her so their shoulders touched. "I want you to feel something really weird."

Royce put his hand on her opposite shoulder and slowly moved her fingers into her. She gasped as the coldness traced her collarbone. "How does that feel?"

She smiled and he noticed her eyes were closed. "It's cold."

"Do you want me to stop?" He smiled in turn.

Her head shook slightly. "No."

Royce moved his hand down her chest swiftly, causing a bubbly giggle to erupt from her lips. "That tickled."

He pulled his hand out of her left side and placed it on her hip. She looked at his face and concerned flashed in her eyes momentarily. Her hand settled on his cheek. It took him a few seconds to realize his scars had returned.

Before Royce could move away, Joey's thumb glided back and forth on the blue-gray ridges. "Yep; wicked awesome."

He wanted to kiss her then. And not just the standard backseat make-out kind either. One of those soft, passionate ones he'd seen in the movies before. It made him feel a little silly thinking about it that way.

But he leaned in anyway and ,to his delight, Joey seemed to be expecting it.

"What the hell..."

Dennis stood in the doorway, his anger-distorted face looking down on the two of them.

Joey rolled her eyes and stood. "What's wrong, Denny?"

"What's wrong?!" her brother burst out. "I walk into a room and find my little sister about to make-out with a guy who died before she was even born."

"You know," Joey sad, sadness audible in her voice. "I thought that being a ghost would help you be a little less judgemental. No, it just made it worse."

Seeing Joey so upset was tearing Royce apart inside. He felt like putting Denny's head through a wall, but he restrained himself.

"Look Denny," Joey continued. "I know you don't like Royce and I know you're only trying to protect me, but I don't need your protection right now. I need your trust. I've never steered you wrong before, and I'm not starting now."

Dennis hung his head, as if ahamed to have thought any less of his sister. He didn't reply.

Joey noddedm taking his silence for an answer. "I'm going to bed."

When she was gone, Dennis looked up a Royce who had finally stood up.

"I do trust my sister. Which means I won't stop her from doing what she thinks is right. And she believes what she's doing with you is right. But she's the only one I've got, dead or alive, and if you hurt her, I'll make the rest of your eternity into hell."

Royce just faded away into the darkness. He never really had any intention of hurting the girl when they first met. But at the moment, he had a strange feeling that wouldn't be enough.

---

Of course, there were others who didn't mind hurting anyone, as long as it got them what they wanted. Ben Moss was starting to formulate a plan; a plan that would start the very next night.