Chloe stood in the open doorway with her lips parted in surprise. The moment she opened the door, she realized that it was not a room that Zach had inhabited. The room was dominated by a several shades of blue with many items having a black accent. Overall, the room had a look of matured sleekness – not the look of adolescent masculinity.

Stepping into her old bedroom, Chloe ran her hand over the plush comforter that covered what had once been her bed. Across the room, her gentle white curtains had been replaced by dark blue ones. The stuffed animals that she had left behind in her window seat had vanished and were replaced with black and blue pillows with the finest embroidery.

As Nancy stepped into the room, Chloe spun on her heals and demanded, "What is going on around here?"

"What do you mean?"

Motioning to the room surrounding her, Chloe elaborated, "Zach was supposed to move into my old room – so, why does it look like some girl has moved in?"

A faint scowl marring her round face, Nancy responded, "Oh, yes, this is the room Sinclair is staying in – though I certainly hope it won't be for long. The sooner she's gone the better for everyone."

Chloe's eyes narrowed in confusion as she struggled to make sense of what her mother had said. "Nancy, what are you talking about?"

Her voice tinged with annoyance, Nancy answered, "I just told you. Sinclair is staying here for a while, but I refuse to let it become a permanent living situation."

Her own annoyance surpassing that of her mother, Chloe fought to contain her frustration. "Who is Sinclair? Why is she here? And, what has she done that makes you want her to leave?"

"Sinclair is Craig's younger sister – and, you'll do well to just stay away from her until I can convince Craig to send her away."

"Craig's sister? Why didn't anyone mention her to me?"

A light smirk appeared on Nancy's face as she responded, "For the same reason most people don't casually discuss tornadoes or earthquakes – disasters simply aren't pleasant conversation topics."

"And, that's what this girl is? A disaster?"

"She wouldn't even eat Thanksgiving dinner with us – though God only knows why Craig bothered to invite her. We're lucky if she even bothers to come home at night."

Shaking her head with a blend of annoyance and offense, Chloe stated, "I can't believe that Craig's sister has been living here and no one even bothered to tell me. Why do you think you have the right to filter what information I receive about my own family?"

"She is not your family," sharply corrected Nancy. "I refuse to acknowledge that little troublemaker as anything more than the black sheep of Craig's family. The girl doesn't bother to treat any of us like family, so why on earth would we want to do that for her?"

"She's Craig's sister!"

"She is yet another unfortunate blemish on Craig's family. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, Craig is the only decent thing to come out of that family."

Again, Chloe shook her head in a negative manner. "Brady," she yelled as she stepped out of the bedroom. "Let's go home."

To onlookers in the theater, they were surely an odd pair. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest and he sat lazily reclined with his eyes repeatedly drawn to her distracted face.

Recalling his past infatuation with Chloe Lane, Philip willed himself to look away from Sinclair's alluring, albeit sad, profile. Despite his attraction to his mysterious female companion, Philip refused to ever worship a girl the way he had Chloe.

Philip had foolishly allowed himself to be consumed with fanciful dreams centering around someone who could never quite return his ardent feelings. He told himself that he would never again hold such dreams. Yet, as he stole another glance at Sinclair, he could feel his resolve slowly weakening.

It wasn't that he had fallen madly in love with Sinclair. There was simply a dangerous potential for it.

And, Philip had truly recognized that potential when he had gotten in line to purchase a movie ticket only to realize that the person in front of him was the very same girl who had captivated him on several other evenings. He had quickly reached out and tapped her shoulder but had been immediately surprised by the saddened expression upon her face. She had tried to mask it, but it was there just the same.

Less than two hours after meeting in the ticket line to see Spy Game, Philip and Sinclair exited the cinema and stepped into the cold night air of late November.

Leading the way toward one of Salem Place's casual snack places, Philip asked, "You hungry?"

Sinclair slowed her stride as she contemplated the question. Though she had little desire to eat, she could not actually recall the last time she had eaten. "I suppose I could eat if you're hungry."

Philip wanted to make a comment about Sinclair's response being such a girl answer, but he was unsure how lighthearted to be when his companion was clearly carrying a heavy burden. "Okay, then, let's grab some food."

More than eager to escape the increasingly cold breeze that seemed unavoidable outdoors, the pair swiftly walked to the small eatery in the building across the way from the cinema.

"So, you know this is the second holiday we've spent together," observed Philip as he looked across the table at Sinclair. When she merely glared at him in either sincere or well forged confusion, he elaborated, "Well, we met on Halloween and now, we're sharing Thanksgiving dinner together."

"We're splitting a basket of nachos and a cup of cheese dip. It's not exactly a five course meal."

Philip shook his head and gently smiled. "Who said it had to be? Today is Thanksgiving, and this is our dinner. That makes it Thanksgiving dinner."

"That is sad."

"Maybe. But, there's no place I'd rather be."

Under normal circumstances, Sinclair would have taken a cynical stab at such a sappy display of charm. Yet, a single flash of Philip's dimples erased the thought from her mind. "You really don't have any other place you'd rather be? No family dinner you're missing?"

"Eh, it's kind of a long story. To give you the Reader's Digest version, my whole family has gone through a lot of changes the past few years, so I can never predict what the holidays will be like. This year turned out to be even stranger than usual."

Sinclair found herself easily pulled into the promise of a family saga more dysfunctional than her own. With genuine interest she asked, "How so?"

Cracking a cheerful grin, Philip answered, "Well, we decided to have our meal earlier in the day because of some scheduling problems. So, there I was at noon today seated with a bunch of people that I'd have preferred to not ever see at the same time. Seated at the same table were me, my dad, his fiancée, his fiancée's brother and mother, my mom, my brother Lucas and his young son. So, of course, my mom and my dad's fiancée were at each other's throats the whole time. My nephew's mom also made a late appearance, and she refuses to get along with any of my extended family."

In response to Philip's retelling of his Thanksgiving, Sinclair simply said, "Makes me feel a little better about my family."

"Yeah," chuckled Philip. "That's what most people say when they hear about my family. Just imagine how good you'd feel if I told you about how my half-brother was once married to my half-sister."

Sinclair's eyes narrowed with amusement. "You're not betrothed to your oldest brother's first born daughter or anything like that, are you?"

"Actually," Philip said with false seriousness. " . . nah, I'm kidding. I promise I have no plans to marry any of my relatives."

With a smile that didn't not come anywhere close to reaching her eyes, Sinclair replied, "I'll keep that in mind."

"You want to talk about it?"

Purposely avoiding a serious talk, Sinclair responded, "Your marriage plans?"

"No, and you know that's not what I meant. I can tell that you're struggling to keep up this unruffled act. And, something was obviously wrong the night I picked you up at that bar. Something has changed since we spent that evening in the elevator. And, if you want to talk about it, I want to listen."

For the first time in a very long time, Sinclair found herself genuinely touched by another individual's concern. She had spent a great deal of time seeing the worst in people but acting as if she was having too much fun to notice. Now, a guy she hardly knew was sneaking into her heart and leaving his mark there. "Actually, I don't want to talk about it, but . . ." Uncomfortable with the words before she even spoke them, Sinclair softly added, "it means a lot that you care."

"All right," reluctantly responded Philip. "I'm not going to force you to share anything you want to keep to yourself. But, you should know that I would do whatever I could to help fix the problem."

And, with those words, Sinclair's resolve slipped.

"I hurt." The two words rushed from Sinclair's mouth more as a dirty confession than a statement of emotional grief.

Philip struggled to find an appropriate response. He wanted to find a way to let her know that everyone hurt without belittling whatever was causing her so much pain.

Reaching across the small table, Philip took hold of Sinclair's hand. "Let's go for a walk."

Wandering around Salem Place with no real destination in mind, Philip and Sinclair said no more of her unspoken pain or Philip's clear concern. Without speaking any words the pair had understood that it was a topic better left for another place and another time.

Standing near the icy cold fountain, Philip looked into Sinclair's eyes as though searching for something. Apparently finding whatever it was that he sought, he smiled rather gently and stated, "I want to see you again."

"What? Are you a glutton for punishment?"

"Maybe I like you . . . a lot. So . . ." Philip prodded. "When can I see you again?" He knew that he was giving into his brash behavior and exposing the weakness he had vowed to hide, but he simply could not stop himself. He realized that making any advance toward Sinclair was a risk, but it was one he was willing to take.

Sinclair took a moment to ponder Philip's request. There had been a time when she would have simply given him a nonchalant answer and laughed before walking away. But, during that time in her life, she had not known anyone to look at her with such a delight in his eyes or speak to her with such a tone of concern. "Give me your cell phone." As soon as Philip obliged Sinclair, she quickly went to his address book and added her own cell phone number under the abbreviated name Sin. Tossing the phone back to Philip, Sinclair said, "Ball's in your court."

Sinclair gave no other comments before walking away. Long after she vanished around a store corner, Philip was still standing in the same spot with a foolish grin plastered upon his handsome face.

Approaching from the east entrance of Salem Place, Shawn quickly spotted his friend standing near the fountain. Taking note of the oddly happy look upon Philip's face, Shawn could not help but wonder what it was that made all of his friends act so strange on holidays - and during the rest of the year. "Hey," greeted Shawn. "I called your house, and Henderson told me I could probably find you here." Pulling his coat closer around his body, Shawn continued, "Hello? K-man?"

"What?"

Shawn shook his head and responded, "Never mind." Seeing that Philip still looked as though he were a million miles away, Shawn questioned, "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing," answered Philip, an even broader smile overtaking his face.

"Yeah . . . okay . . . so you're just standing alone in Salem Place on a cold Thanksgiving night smiling like that for absolutely no reason?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Standing outside the penthouse door with Mimi at his side, Jason felt a wave of nausea spill through his body. Neither Jason nor Mimi has seen Belle in the six days since the car accident.

Now, they had been sent to give the weary blonde a harsh dose of reality. Belle had been completely sheltered from all forms of mass media and unapproved communication in the days following her release from the hospital. The only knowledge she had of the accident was what her parents has cautiously provided.

Yet, Belle had quickly grown tired of being spoon-fed half truths. According to Craig, Belle had apparently thrown an unprecedented tantrum shortly after the family's Thanksgiving lunch.

After consulting with her husband and then Craig, Belle's mother had decided that Belle might better handle the harsher facts if they were delivered by someone who was close to both Belle and Zach. Though she desperately wanted to be a comfort to Belle, Marlena understood the young woman now needed the support of understanding friends rather than worried parents.

Upon opening the door, Marlena weakly smiled and said, "She's upstairs in her room. If you want I can take your coats and you can go on up."

As he followed Mimi up the staircase, Jason felt as though she was leading him to some mysterious executioner who would steal away his life and possibly his soul. Reaching the landing, Jason began to revise the scenario. The nearer he drew to Belle's door, the more he felt like the executioner preparing to claim a victim.

Even as they entered Belle's bedroom, Jason continued to stand behind Mimi, using her as both a physical and emotional shield. Had the impending conversation not been so unwelcoming, Jason surely would have laughed at the idea of one petite teenage girl being his protection from another petite teenage girl.

A gamut of emotions assaulted Jason with unexpected brutality. Staring down at Belle as she lay in bed, Jason was unable to deny that the young woman was clearly suffering. Yet, Jason could not forget overhearing Belle's parents in the hospital corridor. From what Dr. Evans had said, Belle had filled Zach's final conscious moments with unkind and unwarranted words.

The more compassionate side of Jason wanted to envelop Belle in a hug and tell her to not feel bad about words that she had likely only spoken in anger. However, years of disappointment and emotional seclusion left Jason with the urge to treat Belle with indifference if not total persecution.

Zach's condition had reminded Jason that life was both precious and unkind. The responses of Zach's friends and family had taught Jason love was both superficial and unrelenting. Painful and comforting. Constraining and liberating.

Sitting down on the bed beside Belle, Mimi gushed, "Belle, I am so glad to see you. We've all been really worried about you. Especially Shawn."

As soon as the name was spoken, Mimi snapped her mouth shut. Shawn had been the one person she wasn't going to mention during their visit.

Saving Mimi from the discomfort of her own verbal blunder, Belle softly said, "Well, I'm really glad to see the two of you. Other than when Chloe was here for lunch, I haven't seen any of my friends from school since . . . the accident."

Watching Belle uncomfortably move to a sitting position on the bed, Jason was reminded yet again just how fragile a life could be. A single moment or decision could alter the course of one's entire life and leave irrefutable evidence of its impact.

As Mimi assisted Belle with repositioning a few of the plush pillows, Jason considered how to approach the subject he had been sent to tackle.

"I really am happy to see you both," stated Belle. Motioning to the foot of her bed, Belle urged, "Jason, you don't have to stay standing up. There's plenty of room." When Jason looked hesitant to comply, Belle softly added, "I promise you that I won't break if you jar the bed or brush against me. In fact, having you sit down here would really make me feel better."

Though Jason still did not look wholly comfortable with the idea, he carefully sat down at the bottom corner of Belle's bed.

"I can't believe my mom actually let you in to see me. I've had a pretty short list of approved visitors the past few days."

Speaking for the first time since entering the bedroom, Jason said, "Actually, it was your mom that asked us to come over."

Fighting against the effects of her medication, Belle willed herself to remain alert and attentive. "Why did she do that? Is someone finally going to tell me how Zach is doing?"

Mimi turned her gaze to Jason, knowing that he was there to deliver the news and she was there to comfort afterwards.

It took immense willpower for Jason to maintain eye contact with Belle. All the fearful concern he saw there was beginning to erode his bitterness and expose his own trepidation and pain.

"After you got upset this afternoon, your mom paged Dr. Wesley - who I was actually with at the time. Once he and your mom had a talk on the phone, they agreed to let me and Mimi come over to talk with you about a few things. Of course, I first had to have a meeting or whatever with Dr. Wesley and then agree to abide by your parents rules when I saw you."

"Why did you have to meet with Dr. Wesley?"

Still keeping his eyes locked on Belle, Jason answered, "He wanted to make sure I fully understood things before I explained them to you . . things about Zach."

Tears filling her eyes, Belle timidly asked, "You're really here to give me news about Zach? Can I call him? Is he home yet?"

Jason blinked away the tears and gently answered with a smile, "Yes, no, and no. As long as you don't get overly upset, I'm allowed to tell you whatever you want to know about Zach and the accident. But, you can't call him and he's not at his house."

"But, he's fine, right? Just relaxing at the hospital, right? I can call him soon, can't I?"

Mimi quickly wiped away her own tears and gingerly wrapped her arms around Belle. Still maintaining eye contact, Jason replied, "No, Belle."

Almost emotionally unable to comprehend the severity of what Jason was trying to tell her, Belle gushed, "I wish he didn't have to spend Thanksgiving in the hospital. But, I bet he'll be home way before Christmas. Maybe we can all have a big Christmas party here at the penthouse or maybe at your house, Jason."

Mimi tightened her hold on Belle's shoulders as Jason tenderly responded, "Belle, I'm not so sure that will be possible. Zach may still be hospitalized."

Still refusing to grasp the harshness of the situation, Belle said, "Oh, well, we can just bring the party to him. And, we'll have to bring him his work from school, too. It would be awful for him to fall behind now after working so hard all semester."

Jason finally looked away from Belle. He was beginning to resent both Marlena and Craig for having put him in such a situation. Handling the turmoil as best he could, Jason bluntly stated, "Zach spent several days hovering near death. Now, he's in a coma and may never wake up. School and silly parties really aren't a concern of his."

"No," sobbed Belle in denial. "He has to be okay. I have to tell him I'm sorry." Her voice nearing a scream, Belle cried, "He has to be okay. Jason, tell me he's going to be okay!"

Jason rose to his feet and moved so that he was sitting on the other side of Belle. He carefully wrapped his arms around both girls and replied, "Belle, I can't promise you that he will be okay." As Belle turned her face in to Jason's shoulder and dampened his shirt with tears, he softly said, "I'm sorry, Belle."

His eyes closed as Belle and Mimi each cried softly, Jason felt an unexpected weight upon the bed. Opening his eyes, he saw Brady and Chloe sitting on the opposite side of the bed. Chloe had immediately taken one of Belle's hands in her own.

The five young adults sat together in silence for several minutes before a voice from the door boomed, "Is this a private Thanksgiving gathering or is anyone welcome?"

Lifting her head from Jason's shoulder, Belle saw Philip smiling at her from the doorway. Just behind him stood Shawn. In a scratchy voice, she answered, "Get in here, you two."

As the stars shined down with an unusual radiance, the seven friends sat together on the bed listening to Jason share the details of Zach's possible brain damage and recovery options. As the moon cast its light upon the city, Sinclair sat at her brother's side and painfully observed the physical evidence of life's unexpected cruelty. As a crisp breeze whipped along the streets, Jan, Jeremy, and Erin each sat alone in their bedroom and contemplated just how lonely it could be to sit on the outside doomed to always be looking in on a set of unattainable lives.