Disclaimer; still don't own anything.

The bus was hot. Hot, crowded and uncomfortable. But he couldn't really complain, it wasn't like he could afford better. Merrill was tired of travelling; it made him sweaty and nervous and bored. But lately it seemed he was always travelling, moving from one place to the next, never staying long, putting more and more distance between himself and the attack, physically, if not mentally. That was all he could do. It was impossible for him to rid his mind of the images, the sounds, the feelings of fear and helplessness.

Except now, there was a tiny nagging voice in his head. Coward, it said, running away, giving up as usual. You're no better than the things people call you - waster, idiot, coward. You really are a class-A screw-up. The voice then gave way to niggling doubts. Had he done the right thing in leaving? What had he accomplished really? The nightmares came just as frequently, only now he didn't have Graham to reassure him, or Bo and Morgan to distract him. If anything, he felt worse than ever.

No, he told himself sternly, this WILL make you better, help to make you you again.

It had better, came the other voice, 'cause it's cost you your home, your family, not to mention all your savings.

"Excuse me, but is it okay to sit here?"

A voice interrupted his reverie.

It took Merrill a second to recognise the voice as that of another human being, so lost was he in his thoughts, another to realise it had spoken in English, and yet another to register what it was the voice had actually said.

"It's just that all the other seats are taken," the voice came warily, obviously unnerved by Merrill's continued silence.

Merrill looked up to see a girl standing in front of him. She was slight and blonde, wearing a floaty summer dress and a hesitant expression. Merrill probably would have found her pretty if he hadn't been so preoccupied with the rest of his thoughts.

"Um, yeah, sure," he mumbled.

As she gratefully took her seat next to him, her face relaxed into a smile. Merrill tensed, anticipating the inevitable conversation that he nevertheless hoped she wouldn't start. He wasn't good at talking to girls nowadays. Recently, girls, like transport, had a tendency to make Merrill sweaty and nervous.

"So you're American too? That's so neat, what a coincidence! So what brings you to Mexico?"

(Damn!)

"Nothing, I'm just travelling," he gave, non-committally, in a vain attempt to kill the budding conversation.

"That must be nice for you," she continued, in spite of Merrill's obvious reluctance to chat, "I'm visiting family. My husband's mother lives here, she's sick at the moment. According to the doctors, her outlook isn't good."

She didn't sound remotely upset.

Jeez! And I thought I was trying to kill the conversation! Merrill was a little shocked.

"So, where you from?"

"Pennsylvania."

"Oh, that's nice"

Nice? What's so nice about it? Why can't she just be quiet!

She lapsed into silence, perhaps searching for more inane questions to ask Merrill. Luckily, just then the bus ground to a halt. Merrill glanced around; it looked like an okay place to get off.

"Okay, this is my stop," he announced, standing up, thankful to be leaving.

As he tried to squeeze by her, the girl grabbed his T-shirt and pulled his head down.

"Soon they'll need you," she whispered in his ear.

Merrill got off the bus in a daze. "Soon they'll need you" What did she mean? Who were they? He wished he'd asked, but he'd been too stunned. Her words reverberated in his head for the rest of the day. He wandered around in a half-trance, unable to think about anything else.

That night, lying on his hard bed in his dingy motel room, Merrill became aware of an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. It felt cold and leaden, like his stomach had turned to ice. He didn't know how to describe it, except as a bad feeling. Like the ones Bo used to have. He had always dismissed them as nonsense, but now he wished he could be so sure…