"Hey baby, guess who?" Hands covered Merrill's eyes.

"Oh, I don't know, Graham? Bo? Morgan?"

"Ok smartass, you know who it is!"

Merrill turned round to find his girlfriend grinning at him.

"Oh Charlie, I never would've guessed it was you."

"Sarcasm's the lowest form of wit you know."

"Guess I'm not a very funny guy then. Seriously honey, it's great to see you. How was your trip?"

"Three hours in the car. Woo hoo. I could hardly contain my excitement."

"Now who's being sarcastic?"

Merrill made to wrap his arms around her slender waist, but she quickly turned and danced out of reach.

"Gotta catch me first!" she teased, running away.

Instead of running after her, he just stood and watched her go. After all this time, he was still in awe of her. There wasn't a single thing about Charlie that he didn't love. Her playful sense of humour, her keen intelligence, everything about the way she looked, from her loose brown curls to her long tanned legs. Deep in his heart he felt that he didn't deserve her.

"Hey baby, I've got something important to tell you" she called over, a note of earnest in her voice.

Merrill felt dread rise up inside him. He knew he needed to know what it was she had to stay, but still, something made him afraid to ask, afraid to hear her answer.

"Yeah?" he called, falteringly.

She opened her mouth to speak but her words were drowned out by a loud thud and rapidly the scene faded.

Merrill woke up on the floor. He had fallen out of bed, again. He got up quickly. The floor here was not a place he wanted to spend a lot of time; the floors of cheap Indian hostels were not the most hygienic of places.

He had come to India, where the crop circles had first appeared in search of some answers. SO far, all he had found were cockroaches, dust, and cows. Lot of cows. No-one seemed to know anything. Aliens bad, water good. That seemed about the limit to the locals knowledge, or what they could communicate to Merrill anyway. He needed more than that, much more. Why had they come? Would they come back? The same old questions Merrill had wrestled with since the invasion and was still no closer to solving. How was he ever supposed to find these things out when he didn't even know where to begin looking? He desperately wished that he could find someone who would know, someone who could lay his mind at rest.

I'll go crazy if this lasts much longer, he thought, I get no sleep, I'm constantly worrying and my thoughts are all over the place. This does not a healthy mind make.

Merrill realised that there was no way he'd get any more sleep that night. He sighed - another sleepless night - got up, pulled on some clothes, the nearest he had to hand, and lay back down on his bed. The sun would be up soon and he would be able to go out. Out to wander aimlessly as usual, Merrill had no idea how many mornings he'd spent recently just wandering the streets. This trip was failing in its task, it was making him feel worse than ever. It just gave him more time alone with his thoughts, more time to mope and beat himself up. He'd always done that - every mistake he'd ever made, the tiniest slip of the tongue, the littlest lie - all of it was liable to come back and taunt him. He reasoned with himself that once he found a way to the answers he needed he could focus, and then all this self-pity would evaporate.

He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to come up. He thought back to times when he'd done this before; as a kid waiting to get up on Christmas Day; at school, too nervous to sleep the night before an exam; the night before Graham's wedding, terrified about making his speech; waiting to go to the hospital to see Graham and Colleen after the kids were born. He missed them so much - Bo and her cute smile, Morgan and his serious little face. He wondered what they were doing now. They were such adorable kids. Someday he'd have kids, or so he hoped. But the only person he could imagine raising a family with was Charlie and now she was gone.

Slowly the light flooded into the room, revealing it in all its grubby splendour, showing up the dust particles in the air, whirling and spinning.

Well, this is a real palace to be prince of, he thought bitterly.

He got up and combed his hair in the little cracked mirror he'd brought with him. He was shocked at his appearance - he was thinner, more gaunt; he'd not been eating much. His skin was darker, but coarser and his hair was long and lank. His green eyes hooded and clouded - not sleeping much either. This has got to stop, he told himself, you can't continue neglecting yourself. You have to shake this torpor off. Stop brooding. You will find the answers, but not if you drive yourself crazy!

He got up and strode out of the room, a new determination in his gait. He refused to wallow anymore. It was busy outside; market day. The locals were buzzing about everywhere, the noise was incredible. Everything seemed fresher and clearer to Merrill, as if he were noticing it for the first time, which to be honest he really was. It had all just been a background to this thoughts and memories before. He decided to explore the market, wander round, see who and what he could come across.

He walked down the main "road", the sun burning the back of his neck, heating every inch of the air until it became difficult to breathe. The road was dusty and as he walked he sent up little dust clouds into the air, like tiny red smoke bombs. The smell added to the oppressive quality of the air; the smell of so many people, animals, foodstuffs crammed into such a confined space. There were so many different smells; the hot musky smell of so many overheating bodies; the sweet spicy scent of the local food sold by market vendors, it all created an intoxicating aroma which went straight to Merrill's head. He suddenly felt hungry, his empty stomach began growling at him. He decided to go find something to eat, but not before he'd looked around the market.

Wandering around the various stalls and areas Merrill was fascinated by the variety of produce on sale, and the hugely different style of living on show. Old men haggled over the price of chickens, vegetables, grain. Old women were selling homespun rugs and homemade trinkets. Further ahead he saw a man behind a table which was covered in books. Thinking that a book would be the ideal distraction, he headed for that table. The table was covered in all sorts of languages in every language Merrill could recognise and quite a few that he couldn't. Picking up different volumes and turning them over, he saw one at the far end of the table with a name on it that was familiar. Bimbu. Morgan's book. Reaching out for it, his arm connected with another body, which promptly doubled up in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Merrill exclaimed in English. "Not that you'll have any idea what I'm saying"

Merrill found himself looking into the startlingly blue, tear-filled eyes of a beautiful blonde girl.

"Actually, I understand you perfectly well," she said in an English accent. "Pleased to meet you, my name's Grace."