Ghost Whisper: Okay so it's one day late, but I've released this introductory chapter to one of my new stories as a way of celebrating my two year anniversary of being registered with Hurray!

Not sure when the next chapter will come out, but I feel rather motivated for this story at the moment, so maybe we'll get lucky! :P

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Chapter 1: Disaster

Her smile was teasing, but kind, and she reached a hand out to gently ruffle the unruly spikes of blonde hair he'd inherited from her, ignoring the wince that decorated his face, and the way his muscles stiffened in embarrassment.

"Mom…"

"Silly Cloud," Crystal blue eyes, only a shade paler than his, lit up in that special way they always did when he 'tried to act grown up'. Those were her exact words. She enjoyed teasing him about the way he'd acted to superior to bear his mother's touch for the past year. "I promise you, we'll get to your competition in plenty of time – we just have to stop at the grocery store for a quick errand first – that is, unless you'd rather not eat supper?"

That was a low blow. She of all people knew how much he could eat, no matter that his slender frame was deceiving. He could eat just as much as any other teenage boy. More perhaps, because he often forced himself to down extra, in order to build up the size and muscle mass that he envied in others. 'Tae Kwon Do doesn't help Mom,' he'd complained to her once. 'I still look small, so every guy in school thinks I'm the perfect target.'

"I hope you're right," he grumbled, feeling the shuddering of the train under his feet. Public transport was the worst. It was always far too crowded for his liking, with too many stops and detours to make it efficient. But it was cheap – something his mother was grateful for, considering the state of their household funds for the last few months. "I can just see my first opponent waiting for me on the mat, until they decide I've forfeited, and that he's won by default."

His mother shook her head, fine controllable strands of blond hair falling in her eyes – which rolled around at his complaints. "Stop imagining the worst dear. If nothing else, there will always be other tournaments. Which I might add, doesn't matter anyways, since we will make it on time. I swear, it must have been your father who gave you the worrywart genes. They certainly didn't come from me."

There might have been some truth in that, Cloud decided. His mother had always been a laid back person, content to let things come as they would. 'Bad and good things will always follow you around – but if you're always looking behind you for them, you'll never see the opportunities in front of you,' she told him once. It was a lesson he'd tried to take to heart – with only limited results. He couldn't help thinking too much about things, even though he knew it was doing him no good.

A lurch in the floor under him, made Cloud grip the pole beside him tightly in an effort to keep his feet. His mother did likewise, though she staggered a bit. The folders from work that she was carrying with her had to be shuffled around into one arm in order for her to free a hand to steady herself.

"One of these days Cloud, when the money is better, I swear I'm going to buy a car. Gas and parking costs can go burn themselves – I don't want to put up with the subway forever."

That, of course, was another thing she'd been saying for years. Never mind that it was a long ways from reality, if it ever did happen. Ever since his father had been shot in a robbery, it had been double the work to make ends meet. Even Cloud had needed to take a part time job to help support the house and pay the bills. His mother's job as a secretary just didn't pay enough.

"Of course Mom," was all he said in reply however. There was no need to tell her that she'd echoed his thoughts from only moments earlier. It would just make her feel guilty that they couldn't afford to have a car.

The floor underneath him hummed once more, as a faint squeal crawled up from the tracks under the train. Gradually the sound grew louder, as though the vehicle was struggling to keep its momentum. Alternately, the train sped up and slowed down, as though something were wrong with the speed controls. Cloud paled. This couldn't be happening. This really couldn't be happening.

"Mom," his voice came out tightly from between clenched teeth, and he gazed into eyes that showed as much worry as he was sure his own did. "Give me your folders – I'll hold them – and get a good grip on something." Wordlessly, she handed him the brightly colored plastic bundles of paper, which he tucked under one arm. Wrapping both arms around the pole, his mother sank to her knees on the floor of the train.

The frightened cries of passengers filled the air around them with sound, making it thick with fear. Cloud tried hard to ignore it trying to get as close to the pole as he could. Beside him, an old woman was crawling under one of the hard plastic seats, trying to tuck her over-full purse underneath her chest, as her breaths came out in frightened pants. On the intercom, only static crackled, though one of the drivers should have been attempting to reassure the passengers. It hardly seemed to matter, as mention of what exactly was wrong would have been lost in the terrified shouts of passengers, and the wailing of an infant. "Cloud!" he looked down at his mother's worried eyes, and noticed with an odd sort of clarity, that her hands were trembling slightly, though whether it was from terror, or an overly tight grip, he wasn't sure. "Please – be safe."

Cloud nodded curtly, then directed his energies towards remaining in place, as the train shuddered underneath them, harder than it had in all the previous times. What was going on? Was it the breaks, stuck somehow? That would certainly explain the awful screeching, if they weren't working properly.

Without warning an explosion occurred at the rear end of their train car causing it to swing out to the side, and Cloud's eyes widened in horror. They were not it the rear car of the train! There had been more behind them! Then, before he had the chance to call out to see if his mother was still okay, the side of their train car hit the wall of the tunnel, and the sounds of human fear were replaced with those of crumpling metal, and shattering glass. The floor seemed to rise up underneath his feat, throwing him forward with such force that his hands - woven together around the metal pole – were wrenched away with a barely audible snapping sound, and Cloud found himself flying head first into a window that had been broken seconds before, the metal of the frame warped inwards.

Splaying his injured hands out in front of him to brace for impact, he barely had time to note the brick wall in his way, before it struck his head and the world went away for a while.