The camp was involved in a giant 80-person game of Simon Says when Ian returned from the nurse's cabin. Actually, it was River Says, because River was the one standing in the front of the room, with all eyes on him – and since he was wearing a bright purple sweatshirt with splotches of other colors that were designed to resemble paint splatters – Ian was surprised that they weren't all going blind while trying to follow his instructions.

"River says… touch your heads!"

All the kids and counselors immediately put their hands to their heads.

The Californian grinned.

"River says… everyone turn and wave hello to Ian!"

As one the entire camp turned towards the door Ian had just opened and waved hi to him.

Ian scowled. There was nothing he hated more than being the center of attention. Well, yeah, there might have been a few other things, but just then, it was the center of attention. He raised his hand in a half-assed greeting, figuring he had yet one more reason to eventually kick Hayden's ass someday, and the others turned their attention back to River, waiting to see what he had for them to do next.

What he had was probably the trickiest set of Simon Says instructions that any of them had ever seen. They were also carefully shouted out so that the kids would have every opportunity to respond properly. While the whole idea of the game was to trick them, River was more than willing to allow them to last as long as possible. And the kids loved it – especially since many of them had never managed to stay afloat so long.

When the last two children were left, another counselor was chosen – not surprising anyone, Ian wasn't asked – to take over the Simon Says duties and River joined them in taking the instructions. Ian didn't. He simply leaned against the wall and watched, in no mood to join in – and frankly not at all willing to be cajoled. Luckily the kids were so distracted – again – that they didn't even try.

"You're not going to play?"

Shawn had joined Ian in his spot near the door where he'd been leaning. The youngest of the counselors had purposely screwed up one of the first instructions in order to get out so he could talk to Ian, who had been looking fairly angry ever since breakfast.

"I'm not in the mood."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously. What's up?"

Ian scowled.

"You haven't talked to Hank? Or Ann?"

Shawn shook his head.

"About what?"

"They're all pissed about that story I told last night."

"Ah." Shawn understood immediately. "Their kids didn't sleep last night, either?"

"Apparently not."

"And…?"

"And they somehow got the notion that it's all my fault."

Shawn snorted.

"It was a fairly scary story…"

"They told me to scare them."

"I know." Shawn watched as several people were tricked into being out, but his attention was on Ian mostly. "Ever the perfectionist, huh?"

Ian shrugged.

"Apparently."

He wasn't in the mood to be chatty, but it didn't bother Shawn. He was used to Ian's moodiness, and while this was bad, it wasn't anywhere near his worst.

"So you have to fix it."

"No shit." Wasn't that what everyone had been telling him all fucking morning? "Any ideas?"

Shawn shook his head.

"You're a genius. You'll figure something out."

"Thanks for absolutely nothing, Adams."

Shawn grinned.

"My pleasure, Cadet Brooks. Now, when the next game starts, you need to join in. Or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else I'll tell Cassie all about the extra time you're spending with the nurse."

Ian scowled.

"So?"

"So, she'll tell her mom, who'll think that you want to spend more time in her infirmary than you already do."

"You're an evil man, Adams. Anyone ever tell you that?"

Shawn shook his head, amused.

"You're the first."

OOOOOOOOO

When the last game of Simon Says ended, they went on to a game of tag. Each kid and counselor had five clothespins attached to their clothing, and the trick was to snag the clothespins from the others while dodging them so they couldn't grab their own. Ian participated – even though he wasn't worried about Shawn's threat – and the commotion actually proved to be a little bit of therapy. Not that he liked having people trying to snatch clothespins off him – and he definitely felt those times when someone accidentally whacked him in a bruised area instead of grabbing a clothespin – but the activity gave him a chance to take his mind off everything else. For a little while, anyways.

The next game was almost as good. Called Rock, Paper, Scissors, Gary divided the campers (and counselors) into two even teams and put one on either end of the gym. This was their base. Then he explained that the teams on either end would get together and decide – quietly – if they wanted to be rocks, paper, or scissors. Once both teams knew what they were, the two teams met in the center of the gym and faced off. As Gary Hines counted one, two, three, the two teams hit one open palm with a closed fist in typical rock paper scissors fashion.

"Whichever team wins the rock paper scissors game for that round chases the members of the other team as they try to make it back to their base. Those who get tagged have to go back to the other side with the people who tagged them," Gary said, watching the faces of the kids to see if they understood. And they did. "Ready?"

It was obvious they were, and there was a low rumble of murmuring from both ends of the gym as they decided what they wanted to be.

"Everyone ready?" Gary asked, as they broke up and headed for the middle of the gym, the two groups looking tense and excited.

"Yeah!"

"One! Two! THREE!"

Ian's team was rocks, and they defeated the scissors team. As the mad scramble ensued to catch as many of the losers as possible before they made it back to their base, Ian had to grin. This was one of the dumbest games he'd ever seen, but the kids were lapping it up. He wasn't quite the convert that they were, but even he was able to enjoy himself during the next twenty minutes as his team grew, and then shrank, and then grew once more.

His subconscious mind, however, now free from the constraint of his anger, was able to consider the problem of the Wraith story without his own fury at the injustice of how unfair it was that everyone was mad at him getting in the way. And the solution – a possible solution, anyways – struck so quickly and out of the blue that Ian actually ended up getting tagged by one of the little girls. Crowing with delight at her capture, she led him by hand over to their base, and Ian waited just long enough for her attention to be diverted by the group picking their next choice of rock paper scissors before walking over to Gary, who was waiting for the two groups.

"You okay?" Gary asked, assuming Ian had taken a shot to the bruises or something. He certainly looked a little stunned.

"Yeah. Do you have any paint?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I'm going to need some…" Ian walked away, heading for the door that led outside, and leaving Gary standing there in the center of the room, wondering what the heck he was up to.