This is a strictly a spiritual and tear-jerking chapter (story, actually), so if you're looking for a box of tissues right now, then bless you. I shall do my best to make it a masterpiece. This chapter was stuck in development hell for quite some time. The first part, quite frankly, conceived out of a dream. The second was...the result of hours of slaving over my computer. (I need a life...)

Disclaimers: the usual...the usual...

Reconciliation

Megan tossed and turned endlessly on her bed that night, wrought with worry and anxiousness. It was already three hours past midnight, yet every part of her body seemed to conspire against her and a good night's sleep. Her eyes never wanted to stay shut for more than two seconds, and every time she thought, with dread, about the next morning, her heartbeat accelerated and ever so loudly. The longer she lay in bed, the more frustrated she became, the tighter the knot in her guts got. Her legs were tingling nervously to get up and move; in fact, Megan did not want to stay in bed.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:45 am. I had enough. I'm getting up.

She pushed away the heavy quilt and got out of her bed, without a jot of tiredness. There was nothing she could do that felt meaningful at such a late hour; unwilling to go back to bed, she paced up and down her room with a finger in her mouth, to release some of the great anxiety bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

What if Drake doesn't make it? But the doctors did say he was going to be alright, right?

How will he look like? Will it be horrible? Will I recognize him...even?

He hates me, he must hate me...how will he react when he sees me? Maybe he might forgive me? I'm his little sister, after all...

What if the doctors are wrong...and he's dead?

Megan kept pacing. Unbeknownst to her, teardrops were gently trickling down her pale cheeks. She could not let her brother go; she could not let him go, even though they were miles apart. She should be staying beside him. There she was, in the comfort of her bedroom, surrounded by a certain atmosphere of security even in these times, while Drake was alone in unfamiliar territory, the hospital, to spend the night there on his own.

No, he will not be alone. I will be with him.

With a great sweep of her arm, Megan pushed aside the curtains, revealing the picturesque view of the night outside the window. The penumbral moon cast its shine on her, it seemed...almost like a beckon, a smile. Perhaps the celestial body knew what she wanted to do, and would help her accomplish it with its mysterious power. Megan hastily wiped away the wetness in her eyes and gazed upon the Moon, allowing her eyes to absorb all the luminance of the ethereal orb of light.

Then its heavenly powers went to work. It drew her in; Megan's unfaltering gaze was fixated upon it, and no muscle in the girl's body moved to release her from the mysterious alluring grip of the celestial body. Megan knew that the Moon was more than the usual ball of light in the sky at that time; it was the face of some higher power, the holiest Highest Power, gazing upon her with love and warmth. Putting all her trust in it, she told the High Above her wish.

I want to be with Drake.

It smiled back; she saw not the smile, but felt it, knew it. There was a voice from beyond, high in the heavens, speaking through the rays of moonlight. It told her to go back to bed, go to sleep. It had taken care of her wish; the wish has been granted, if only she went to sleep. It would take care of her. All that was needed to do was done.

Go to bed, Megan.

Megan obeyed the instruction, and without hesitation, without looking back at the Moon, slipped back into her bedcovers, and closed her eyes. Her mind was at peace at last, surrounded by the new feeling of reassurance and security. She was protected, her pain was soothed. Drake too, though miles away, was protected.

Amen.

In no time at all, Megan slipped into the world of dreams.

And, oh, what a beautiful, picturesque place it was! Vast fields of red, gold and blue bathed in brilliant but heatless sunlight. Beds of roses, tulips, sunflowers and violets stretching for miles and miles, even stepping beyond the horizon! And the great ball of light above, the most Glorious of all, smiling down on all below! It was like a beautiful cloudless summer day, one which Megan had never seen – she simply stood and stared, stupefied by the scene. The air was warm, with a warm, pleasant and feather-light breeze fanning her face in tiny gusts, speaking in whispers into her ears...

Megan blinked. All of the sudden she was lying down on the bed of sunflowers. The bed was surprisingly warm and the perfect cushion, what a lovely bed, Megan thought...

She blinked again. Someone was lying down beside her. She looked to her right.

Drake was lying beside her, his face shining, his smile radiant as the sun above. He beamed at her, and Megan beamed back. All enmity between them was gone, and there was only love and warmth. There was no hatred, no disgust, no war, no pain, as if nothing bad had ever happened between them. It was a moment of purity as the two siblings returned to their former states of childhood innocence.

The accident that left Drake in the hospital never happened, not in this beautiful world...

Megan crawled into Drake's arms, and locked in the loving embrace, they lay there for another eternity, joyfully smiling and laughing along with the sunflowers at the Glorious Sun. The beautiful Light beamed with satisfaction, happy with its work. A truce was made signed between the two – the siblings were no longer at war; in fact, this wonderful relationship never experienced war...they were blissfully unaware of any conflict that ever happened between them. For the Light had removed their memories of the conflict, for them to reflect on their fraternal love, their true selves...their long-lost but never-gone innocence.

Megan and Drake knew nothing about it. They simply lay there in their embrace, staring into the cloudless skies. Drake kissed his little sister on the head, and Megan shut her eyes, wanting nothing but the feeling of love and warmth to persist and linger. She wanted the dream to never ever end. She knew that, though locked up in the cold dark hospital ward, Drake was sharing her dream, a wonderful dream, one created by the Lord in Heaven just for them to learn to love each other again...

Megan's heart was pumping hard. The door downstairs just closed with a click.

Drake came home.

Terror replaced the nervousness, tearing right down her lungs and piercing her stomach. Megan felt her heart throwing itself against her ribcage with unchecked force. She placed her hand over her chest, over the hammering little thing, and pressed hard. Every breath of air caught in her throat, and burned like icy fire. Fear made her quake from head to toe, as she leaned against the door to her room, one ear pressed to the wood, listening to the sounds coming downstairs, waiting in bated breath.

"Megan, we're back!"

Megan gasped involuntarily out of surprise. The dreadful moment, one which wishes for delay and procrastination could not prevent, had come. She hoped for it, she wanted it to come sooner, yet the sheer terror of seeing Drake again after the incident made her pray desperately that this moment would never come.

Not never, at least, but later. And later, and later still.

But it had to come. It was inevitable.

Drake had to return home. And so he did, and so it was.

Terrible images ran across her mind's eye for a long moment: the sight of the new transformed Drake, his rage which was vindictive and vengeful, even violent, and Megan crying and begging for forgiveness, crouching in her small corner…

The nine-year-old could take the stress no more. She slid down and sat on the floor, her back to the door, her knees hugged tightly to her chest. Guilt and conviction ravaged the frail little body for the past week, but only upon Drake's return did the terror peak.

The little girl was pale, paler than she was normally, far paler than any healthy person. Her eyes became perpetually watery and puffy, yet she was not weepy for the last three days; her eyes had simply run out of tears. The skinny little frame became even more so skinnier, or so it looked. Overall, Megan took on the appearance of a really ill, stressed-out, and almost literally dying person.

"Honey, don't you want to come down and say hi to Drake?" her mother called from the hallway. The sound of her voice travelled up the stairway and rang too clearly for Megan to pretend she had not heard it.

For a heart-stopping five seconds, Megan struggled to find her voice.

"I-I'm b-busy right now, mom!" she finally managed to stutter, but still clearly enough to let the reply carry downstairs.

Then there was a third voice, a deeper male one. It said something inaudible, but a moment later, Megan heard her mother yell upstairs again, "That's okay, honey! You can come down later!"

Was that Drake? Megan thought worriedly. Had he heard her, too? Did he know, and understand her fear, and gracefully allowed her some time to conquer it before they met?

Perhaps Drake isn't as much a boob as I thought, Megan thought. But she still couldn't bring herself to face him. She could not even get up from her position on the floor. She daren't move.

Maybe later. And later, and later still.

And so she waited. She waited an hour.

Finally, after the soul-crushing stress of an hour's wait, she could take the inaction no more. Her love for her brother was far greater than the fear of facing his wrath. Before her mind had another chance to hesitate, she jumped up onto her feet, wrenched the door open, and dashed down the stairs like a bullet.

Then she saw him, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Drake was on the couch, covered in bandages, plasters and other indicators of horrible physical damage. He looked a lot worse than she had imagined. Yet the smile and joy on his face was evident, as he languidly sat back on the couch and stared into the blaring television screen, the remote control on his free hand. Josh was with him, and he was talking, but Megan couldn't hear. Fear still rang in her ears.

Were this a normal occasion, she would saunter over and smack Drake's face full-on with a pie. Then she would giggle and retreat while he reeled in shock. Megan pictured it in her head, and wondered if she could do just that, in order to get closer to him. But she had not the nerve. What he wanted was an apology, and that was what she must look like; the image of pathetic apology.

The tumult of conflicting emotions threatened to tear her apart from the insides. If she were to live, she would have to act now…

Steeling herself for come-what-may, Megan summoned up her voice once more.

"Drake…?"

It was a small whisper, for she had failed to get the full cooperation of her voice and mind. But it was loud enough to silence the two young men. They turned their heads and stared in surprise at Megan for a dumbstruck moment. Megan's insides were squirming and squeaking. Part of her wanted to escape, to take off and dart back to the relative safety of her room. But her legs remained rooted to the ground.

Josh looked at her, then looked back at Drake, and muttered, "I'm going to give you guys a little time alone." Then he flashed his stepsister a little smile of encouragement, and hastily marched upstairs to his room. Megan could feel herself flinch when his arm lightly brushed against hers when he walked past.

With obvious effort, Megan lifted her foot of the floor, and inched her way towards Drake on the couch. She took a wild look around, and caught a glimpse of the living room. The plates on the table were definitely touched and moved; Drake had dug in to his favourite foods on those dishes, painstakingly prepared by his penitent sister. The television was blaring, but it made no noise, for it was muted. Drake gave her a smile and a gesture of invitation. There was no one else in the living room but the two.

Drake gazed upon his sister and the image alone invoked deep protective feelings and pity within him. The girl, far too young for the sheer pressure she was subjected to for a long, grueling week, too little and immature to suffer an adult's worth of pain, stood shivering before him. Her shoulders were hunched, hands hidden behind her back. Her head was down, and she was looking up at him with a set of the saddest eyes he had ever seen. At that moment, Drake remembered all that his mother told him; about how very sorry Megan was.

He held no grudge, no ill will against her. Hatred would serve only to hurt, and he needed no such thing in his heart as he recovered. The girl had been punished enough by her own emotions; there was no need to inflict further damage to her spirit and their relationship. Now was the time for mercy, and healing.

Megan isn't just really sorry, Drake observed. She's basically derelict.

Megan dropped her gaze to the floor and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Drake."

Drake smiled encouragingly, unsure whether anything he did would relieve his sister of the anxiety. "I know," he replied simply.

Megan opened her mouth and tried to begin a sentence, but could not find the words. She lingered in silence for a terribly tense second, then stammered incoherently.

Drake kept smiling.

"How're you feeling?" Megan said finally, still staring at her shoes.

"Oh, you know…fine." Drake said.

There was an awkward silence. Drake kept the smile plastered on his face.

With trepidation, Megan took a tiny step forward and began to inspect every single inch of Drake's body. The sight of him close-up seemed even more terrible than the view at a distance. And the fact that she caused him to suffer these injuries only conjured up those feelings of conviction yet again. Drake saw a teardrop descend from Megan's eye and become a tiny wet spot on the floor. It was the first teardrop in days.

Drake tried to break the ice, and clear the air. "C'mon, sit down, Megs," he invited cheerfully, motioning at the seat on the couch next to him. With a little hesitation, Megan sat down, and stared at him, transfixed with horror. But the use of the girl's nickname successfully removed the tension from the atmosphere, for Megan melted into a stammering sob.

"Hey, don't cry," Drake said gently. He had never ever seen his sister cry.

"I-I…I'm just so s-sorry! I didn't m-m-mean to…it just…it was an accident! I didn't…" Megan ranted desperately.

"Whoa, Megan, calm down! You didn't mean it to…"

"No! NO! I shouldn't have done it! I'm so stupid!"

"You're not stupid!"

I hurt you! I nearly killed you! I…"

Her outpour ceased abruptly, as if she was struck dumb by the last words she had uttered. Unable to breathe or talk, she hung in mid-sentence for two seconds, then dropped her face into her hands. A second tear leaked out of her eye and made its way to earth. Drake freed his arm and pulled her towards him. Megan yelped and flinched in fright; for a wild moment, she believed Drake was about to strike her. Mustering all his strength, Drake pulled Megan into a tight embrace, risking the stitches on his body be pulled apart. Megan was still incredibly uneasy.

"Do you hate me?" she asked nervously. Drake felt her shaking in his arms. He looked kindly at his sister. "No," he said.

"You're not mad at me?"

"I forgive you, Megan."

"Y-you do?" Megan stuttered in utter disbelief, yet at the same time, the huge pressure weighing her shoulders and chest down was lifted. She felt relief like a sudden ray of light, of hope.

Drake kissed his sister on the forehead. "Yes," he whispered.

Megan gasped, sighed, then burst into tears. She soaked his chest with warm salty tears, but Drake did not mind. The teardrops would heal his wounds faster than any doctor's medicine.

There was no need to put the old chestnut "I love you, X" line to end the chapter, don't you think? I am content with this ending. So all's fine, apparently, Drake didn't kill Megan, and Megan didn't kill herself. Their fraternal relationship is repaired, so…all is good. The Moon in the first bit obviously refers to the Lord God. My personal favourite bit is when Drake kisses Megan on the head. It's like "Aw! How sweet!"

Now, don't think this story is ended! For I have one last chapter to write. A tragic end, an unhappy ending; the story shall be finished to befit my name! Await one more chapter, an alternate, tragic ending!

Terrorking Tragedian