Review Replies:

PitbullLady: I'm glad someone else understands. I have nothing against moving it fast but I prefer it slow, it just seems more real that way, not quite so soap opera-ish. Thank you.

Credit for Chapter Title goes to the folk/bluegrass group, Nickel Creek (Don't sue me!). I just got their new album and the song "Doubting Thomas" reminded me of this chapter. For those who don't know (I didn't until my mother explained it) a "doubting Thomas" is someone who doubts everything, even themselves. You'll see the connection at the chapter's end . . . I hope.

Chapter 5: Doubting Thomas

Wilt settled onto the couch in the TV room with a bowl of popcorn. It was almost eight, yet Satin and Crackers still had not shown. He was starting to feel that he'd been stood up, which, in his mind was definitely NOT okay. He would understand if an emergency had come up or something of course, but he hoped that they hadn't just made other plans. He didn't show it much but it bothered him when people left him waiting without reason. He sometimes wondered if they just didn't think he was worth their time. It was an emotion he chided himself on often, but an instinctive one all the same. Preoccupied as he was by these thoughts, he didn't notice the sound of footsteps until a cheerful voice announced, "Oh! You're already here!"

Satin came around the side of the couch and sat on it, her legs folded up beside her. She looked much the same as he'd last seen her, except now her hair was loose and spilling down her back. Cracker's bounced up beside her, wrapped in a tiny orange sweater. Wilt smiled broadly at them, feeling guilty for not trusting Satin to show. She was his friend, what was he thinking?

"Yeah, I thought I'd make some popcorn. What are we watching?" Wilt asked, trying to look relaxed and casual.

"That's sweet of you," Satin replied with a smiled, "We're watching Trick. It's a horror movie about a magician."

"Sound's great! I love horror movies."

Crackers bounded over to the television and popped the tape in before returning to Satin's side.

As the opening scenes, all incredibly creepy shots of magical paraphernalia, scrolled by Wilt found himself distracted by thoughts of guilt. He should trust Satin more than that. After all, she hadn't let him down yet, why would he think she would do something like that? Then again, anyone could let you down, he should know that . . . But Satin wasn't that kind of person. She seemed to predict how people would feel and take steps to correct it. Her second week here she'd promised to help him with the laundry but Frankie had nabbed her, dragging her off to the grocery store for a shopping trip. Before she'd left she'd had Coco go tell him what had happened. When she got back she apologized profusely and swore she'd do the laundry for the next whole week. He'd felt so bad that she'd freaked out that he'd told her to forget about it. He'd never seen an imaginary friend so apologetic, with a blush he thought of himself. Well, with one exception., he thought.

Satin caught a glimpse of Wilt's face and nudged him with her foot, "Hey, the movie's not that bad is it?"

Wilt turned to her and his face lightened considerably, "No, the movie's great! I'm sorry, I must have spaced out there for a second."

They returned to their movie silently. Wilt's head still echoing with his conscience.

As the movie wore on, the plot becoming more twisted and sinister, Wilt found himself increasingly uncomfortable. It was a common issue with the furniture in Fosters. Nothing seemed to accommodate for his size and build. He sprawled his legs out so that they almost touched the television and sighed, that caused his neck to ache as it pressed against the back of the couch. No matter what position he tried he ended up awkward and painful.

Satin glanced over at Wilt and smiled sympathetically, "Wilt. Honestly." she grabbed a pillow from a neighboring chair, carefully not to disturb Crackers, who was curled up in a ball on her lap with his wide eyes glued to the screen, and placed it against her legs, "Stretch out, lay down. You'll be a lot more comfortable than cramped up on this couch."

Wilt looked at her for a moment, she seemed to do that often, notice what made him uncomfortable and fix it. It reminded him of . . . Well . . . Himself. Smiling at the thought, he lay down carefully, his head resting on the pillow beside her, "Thanks Satin."

The credits rolled and Satin let out the breath she'd been holding for what felt like the last half-hour of the movie. Blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, she yawned and announced, "I think it's time to turn in."

There was no reply. Looking down, Satin sighed. Crackers was still curled in her lap, asleep. Wilt lay beside her, his legs draped over the arm of the couch, his face still turned towards the TV, asleep as well. Settling back with a smile on her face, Satin closed her eyes. This felt right, good, homey and comfortable. Like when she, Natalie, and Jack used to stay up late watching Ruroni Kenshin and Tenchi Muyo on weekends. She'd forgotten what having a place in life felt like for the first few weeks of her stay here. She'd been lost, alone, unsure. Any little incident could bring her to tears over what she had lost. But now, slowly, she was finding more and more that she was gaining something. She was gaining a place in the Foster's family.

A small stirring from Wilt brought her out of her revelations.

She prodded Wilt's shoulder carefully, "Wilt? Hey. Wilt? Wake up, big guy."

Slowly, Wilt opened his eyes and looked up into Satin's face. With a smiled, he sat up, "I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Did I miss the movie?"

Satin nodded then gestured to Crackers, "And you're not the only one."

Wilt grinned, then looked at the clock, "Oh! Wow, it's ten already! We'll have to be quiet, most of the house is asleep."

Carefully, Satin cupped her hands around Crackers, lifting him without waking him. Rising, she and Wilt hurried back to their rooms. At Wilt's hall, Satin paused and turned to him.

"Wilt, may I say something that may seem a bit . . . Strange?"

Wilt looked down at her curiously, "Sure, Satin, what is it?"

"Wilt, thank you." she blurted, looking a bit surprised with herself.

"For what?"

Satin smiled shyly, "For helping me find a place here. Helping me get used to Fosters."

Wilt shrugged with a grin, "No problem. Hey, I remember what my first days were like, it was rough. It helps to have someone who can show you the ropes."

"Well, thank you for that." her voice was soft, filled with gratitude, "Goodnight, Wilt."

"You're welcome." his voice was smoother, gentler, almost, "Sweet dreams, Satin."

Perhaps it was Wilt's wish or perhaps it was the evening's entertainment but Satin's sleep was far from peaceful. She found her dreams haunted by a dark-robed figure whom she chased throughout Fosters. A desire to see the face of her prey captivated her, entranced her, to the point of obsession. The dark stairwells and bright windows of Foster's never seemed so stark, so sinister before. It seemed that no matter how fast she ran, no matter what shortcut she took, her quarry evaded her. Just around each corner, just behind each door, always out of reach. Satin found a terrifying feeling in herself, a desire to hurt, to maim the person she chased. Why couldn't they be still! Why couldn't they stop! And with the quickness of a breath, they did. The figure stood, it's back pressed to the wall of a dead end hallway. In three steps Satin was upon her prey, tearing back the hood she cried out, falling back at the sight.

Natalie's eyes, now revealed, were filled with tears as she towered over her creation.

"I love you."

Satin sat bolt-upright, panting for breath. It took a moment for her disoriented mind to come to grips with the world around her.

"Natalie." she whispered to herself.

Looking around the room she saw that is was just as she'd left it before bed. Neat and tidy, with Crackers tucked soundly into his little basket. No cloaked figures, no haunting eyes, no Natalie . . .

Quietly, she flicked on the light by her bed, illuminating a small alarm clock that said it was 2:36 in the morning. Opening the drawer below her clock she dragged a large book out of her bedside stand. Sitting up in bed, she lay the book across her knees. It was a simple scrap album decorated with stars and moons. Opening it carefully, as though the memories would bite her, she turned to the first page.

Her and Natalie in the bath. Eating chicken noodle soup. Her and Natalie when Natalie had chicken pox. So many memories . . . Christmas's, Fourth of Julys, Birthdays (hers and Natalie's both), Prom (when Natalie had first suggested Satin go she was surprised. When Natalie's parent agreed she was shocked. She nearly went into a coma when Natalie's date, Jack provided his own imaginary friend, Tony as her date.)

Then, there was her favorite picture. . .

It looked professionally done but then again, Natalie's dad was a photographer.

It had been taken at Natalie's grandmother's farm less than a year ago. Natalie's profiled face was tilted slightly upwards and a smile graced her lips. Soft blonde hair fluttering in a breeze. Slightly behind her was Satin, mirroring her creator's carefree look. The two faces seemed to complement each other, making one image. The backdrop of blue sky seemed to suggest that they could do anything . . . As long as they were together.

Tears seeped out from under her eyelids as she traced Natalie's features. If only she could go back . . .

Closing her eyes she remembered the Natalie of her dream, elusive, fearful, yet loving. She remembered her own feelings of hatred, that need to hurt someone. How had she grown so angry without knowing? It was frightening, to think that she could feel that way towards someone.

Lifting a trembling hand to touch her forehead, Satin closed the book, shutting out the memories. Her friend . . . Her sister almost . . . Her home . . . Everything . . . Gone.

Slipping out of bed, she shrugged on a long robe and walked softly to the door. She needed to do something, talk to someone, hide, anything! There she paused, one hand on the doorknob, to look back at Crackers. He had nightmares sometimes too, not bad ones but he sometimes crawled into bed with her for comfort . . . What would he do if she wasn't there? She settled her mind with the idea that he would be fine. After all, he didn't have nightmares every night, and how much help would she be to him feeling like this?

The hall was dark beyond her door, the only light coming from moonlight spilling in through the distant window. Carefully shutting the door behind her, she slipped into the darkness, considering what to do next. She desperately wanted someone to talk to but . . . She hated waking anyone up at this hour. Creeping downstairs, she crept towards the living room. Before she reached her destination she spotted a yellow glow beneath a door. Checking the number she saw that it was room seventeen. Glancing over her shoulder she spotted a lone peace lily at the entrance of the hall.

She found herself drawn to the glow. The door was opened a crack. She peeked in. In the dim light she could distinguish the sleeping forms of Coco, Bloo, and Eduardo. Wilt lay stretched under the bed, holding a book in his hand, reading by the light of a small touch lamp.

Well, she wouldn't have to wake anyone up and she didn't think Wilt would mind . . .

But would she? These were private emotions, she shouldn't tell them to just anyone.

It only took her a moment to decide.

"Wilt's not just anyone."

Wilt looked up from his book as a soft rapping came from his door. Wondering who would be up at this hour, other than him, he extricated himself from the underside of the bed and crossed to the door in two steps. Satin stood on the other side, looking up at him with an all too familiar look in her eyes. Before she could say a word, Wilt had steered her into the room.

"I'm sorry, but you look upset. What's wrong?" he asked, for once crouching down to look at her instead of bending down.

"I-" she paused, looking at a loss for words, "I-I'm sorry, Wilt, I was being stupid. I shouldn't have bothered you."

She turned towards the door but he placed a hand on her shoulder, "Satin, wait. I'd like to know what's wrong if you'll tell me . . . Maybe I can help."

She released a small trembling sigh, "I feel so childish for this."

"For what?" he asked, then added, "And, I'm sorry, but I've never thought of you as childish."

Satin turned, and he saw that she was smiling through tears. Wilt could almost guess what was wrong, it was a common problem with newly abandoned friends, but he wanted to wait. If this was what he thought it was, then she needed to tell him herself.

"I certainly feel it." with a sigh she sat on the floor.

Opening the end table drawer, he grabbed a box of tissues and offered them to her. She accepted them with a slight noise of appreciation and began to dry her eyes.

Wilt slid under the bed and gestured for her to follow, "If it's okay, could we talk under here? It won't disturb the others as much if we do."

Satin nodded, and slid in next to him, "Listen, Wilt, I'm sorry about disturbing you so late. It's just that . . . I need someone to talk to."

Wilt nodded in an encouraging way and replied, "I'm always here."

"Thank you." she whispered.

"Now, what's wrong?"

"I-I had a nightmare . . . About Natalie. I hated her, I wanted to hurt her . . ." she trailed off, looking worried, "It frightened me."

"Nightmares are always scary, especially when they're about someone you love." he paused, "We all have those kinds of dreams here."

"You don't understand . . . I wanted to kill her, destroy her. Make her feel lost and alone."

Wilt shook his head, "Satin, we all have those dreams, especially when we first come here. Believe me. I dreamt about Jodee constantly for two months after I arrived. I wanted to hurt her too, like it hurt me when she didn't need me anymore . . ."

Satin stared at Wilt in surprise, she couldn't imagine Wilt wanting to hurt anyone.

"It's true. Edurado used to go into rages when someone reminded him of his kid. Coco cried in her sleep. Bloo hit things, mostly walls."

"So, it's normal?"

"Perfectly normal." he replied, "Crackers still has nightmares."

"That's what those are about? I thought he was just scared of the dark."

Wilt shook his head, laying back to stare at the underside of the bunk above him, "No, he had a hard time at home. His creator's brother used to put him in a shoebox and shake it when he got angry. He was really jumpy when he first came here but we calmed him down. Nine years and he's still a little nervous but he's a totally different friend from the one we picked up on the street."

They were silent for a moment. Quietly, Satin asked a question she'd been curious about for awhile, "Did you creator do that to you?" she whispered, gesturing to his stumpy arm, "You don't have to answer if you don't want. I just thought . . ."

"Yes and no." he replied with a smile, "A lot of people think she hurt me but she didn't. You see . . . Jodee was in a car accident not long before she made me. Because of the accident she'd lost a leg."

"So, she made you different like her?"

Wilt grinned, "She wanted someone who could teach her to play basket ball."

Satin smiled as well, thinking that perhaps Jodee had had other reasons for imagining Wilt, reasons that dealt with needing someone who understood how she felt more than love of a game.

"You sound like you loved her very much."

"Still do. Last I heard, she had three kids and was living two towns away."

"Ever talk to her?" Satin asked, propping her head up a little on one hand.

Wilt's eyes grew faraway as he replied, "We grew out of touch."

Silence stretched between them as Satin thought of her own creator, so far away. What if Natalie forgot about her?

"You okay?" Wilt asked suddenly, "I'm sorry if I upset you."

Satin smiled and shook her head, "I'm fine, Wilt and you didn't upset me. Actually, I feel a lot better. Thank you." she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and slid out from under the bed, "I think I'm going to go back to bed, okay?"

Wilt nodded, "Okay, good night Satin."

"Sweet dreams, Wilt."

After she'd left Wilt found his hand involuntarily drawn to his cheek, had that happened or had he been up too late? No, he was sure it had been a kiss. Something in his stomach fluttered as he pulled the blankets around himself and turned off the light, it was important somehow, he knew, but he decided to think about it in the morning.

Satin lay under the blankets wondering at her daring. She had kissed Wilt. It had seemed innocent enough, an almost habitual act of endearment . . . Then why had she felt so warm when she got into bed? Felt so safe and loved?

Shaking her head and resolving to think on it in the morning, she fell asleep.