A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! An early Christmas present for you guys!

Catalyst

By pure2ND

Chapter Two: Morning Evasions

3:17. The bold red numbers bore into his eyes as he glanced over the check the alarm clock on his nightstand. His eyelids were getting heavier and slowly, they fluttered shut. His mind, however, wouldn't succumb to the pleasures of sleep. He flipped over onto his stomach in frustration, then pounded the mattress hard once and yelled into the pillow twice. The lack of sleep and sure weariness to come in the morning didn't bother him, even though he had classes later. After all, he could always ditch if he felt like it. It was just…to be accurate, it felt like there was an itch in his mind. Something bothered him, but he just couldn't pinpoint it, and frankly, it was driving him insane.

And suddenly he knew. The girl - he had seen her before. Now that he had realized it, he wondered why it had taken him so long. That face, though wholly unremarkable, was familiar. Had it been at one of those society functions his parents dragged him to? Or had it just been a stranger on the street, giving a different painting to a different person? He slammed his fist into the mattress again, dangerously close to his precious hair. The itch in his mind had intensified. Now that it had had a taste of the mystery, it craved more. It was consuming his thoughts and he could feel a migraine coming on.

He sat up in bed and clutched his head in angry claws, trying to squeeze answers from his tired brain. All he received in return was mussed hair and a sharp pain as he ripped a few strands out. He roared in rage and stumbled out of bed, ripping the door to his room open and slamming it shut behind him. A voice called out anxiously somewhere else in the home, but he ignored its question. He dashed down a hallway and down one of the numerous flights of stairs, tripping once and tumbling down a short way. Thankfully, the plush carpeting prevented any real harm to himself or any of the priceless antiques sitting on tables nearby. Rising again, he cursed loudly and thoroughly and began his flight once more. He winced as he ran across the frigid marble tiles of the foyer. Dancing from one foot to the other, he quickly punched in the security codes that would open the front door. Finally, finally, he rushed outside.

Raising his arms in a wide arc, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath of the crisp, cleansing night air. The faint scent of pine trees wafted by, and something smelled a little of hickory – a sign of the encroaching winter months. He opened his eyes, lowered his arms, and began to stroll down the brick pathway. The crunching leaves tickled his bare feet. His fingers were beginning to numb in the chilly breezes, so he tucked them into the pockets of his pajama pants.

"What's wrong?" A soft voice floated out of the darkness somewhere up ahead of him. He jumped, startled, then squinted into the night to find the person who had called him. "No, look for me by opening your eyes."

After a few more futile seconds of squinting and searching, he did. And then he spotted her, the same girl who had given him the painting, strolling nonchalantly toward him. She clutched a wooden box under one arm and it rattled a little as she walked. He strode forward to meet her. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little. "Who are you? Why are you here? How'd you know where I live? How do you know who I am? Do you know what time it is? Why aren't you in bed and asleep?"

She shrugged out of his grasp and laughed softly. "Me first. Why are you up so late?"

He frowned, reluctant to give in to this slender wraith of a girl. She didn't flinch under his scrutiny, but instead looked him straight in the eye. Very pretty eyes, he couldn't help noticing. Finally he sighed and relented. "I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about things…business affairs and stuff." He lied quickly when he caught her raised eyebrow. Somehow it would be embarrassing to admit to this stranger that he had been thinking about her. He continued, even though it felt like she already knew what he was going to say. "I thought fresh air could clear my head or something," Finished, he crossed his arms tightly against his chest and rubbed them briskly. It was insanely cold in November. Perhaps he should have put on some shoes or a shirt before he just rampaged out of the house. Silently, she slipped her sweater off and tied it around his shoulders. "No, don't. I don't need this," He tugged at the knot, but it was tightly tied.

She laid a gentle hand on top of his squirming one until he was still. "Follow me. I want to show you something." She vanished into the gloom off to his right without a backward glance to see if he was going to come.

"Wait, where are we going?" He raced after her. "I don't have shoes!"

Her voice rang out, somewhere up ahead of him. "It's not far. I promise."

He didn't see her stop in front of him and collided with her. Instinctively, he reached for her as he fell. She caught his hand and with surprising strength for such a delicate girl, kept him from dropping. He staggered to his feet again. "Thanks."

She smiled at him. "What's the rush?"

"I thought I lost you."

She turned from him and looked at the house, pointing in the direction of his bedroom window. "Look."

He stared. There was a wall, a windowsill, some ivy, a tree. There had to be something special she wanted him to see. Why else would she have led him here? After a few moments of silence, he confessed, "I don't see anything special."

She laughed – amusement lighting her face up. "There's a tree growing in front of your bedroom window. The branches must block your view. How do you see the sun rise and set?"

He considered this for a minute, then admitted truthfully, "I've never really thought about it. Why? Is it that important?"

"Get one of your gardeners to trim it the next time they come around to do your landscaping. You should see the real thing sometime."

"Okay. In the meantime, I'll get up early everyday and come outside to look at the sunrise. Will that make you happy?" He couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. He hoped he sounded sincere.

She seemed to know. She smiled and shooed him toward the front door. "Go back to bed."

He sighed, and for what seemed like the first time in his life and the hundredth time since he had met her, he gave in. And as the warmth of his bed enveloped him once more, he realized she had never answered any of his questions.