Ok, guys. Here's Chapter 2, with the soundtrack at the bottom. Leave a review if you like it.

Chapter 2-A Series of Unexpected Events

Merrill stood still, taking a moment to watch Isabelle from the doorway. She was already lying in bed, tucked under the bedclothes, almost in a foetal position, her face tense, her eyes distant. He knew she was worrying, knew she was thinking about Ray Reddy and it sent a twinge through his heart. He hated it when Isabelle worried, and he hated it even more that this time he couldn't simply reason it away.

He and Isabelle had spent the evening at the Hess farm, watching Morgan and Bo, while Graham travelled with Ray in the ambulance to the hospital. "He'll need someone there when he wakes up" Merrill's older brother had told him. "That is-" Graham had trailed off at that point, but Merrill had heard the unspoken words as loudly as if they'd been screamed. Isabelle had burrowed further into his shoulder then, and he didn't blame her.

Morgan and Bo had both spent the evening asking endless questions about whether or not Ray would be all right, and Isabelle had done her best to answer them, with Merrill fiddling with the TV channels, struggling to find a good kids' film to distract the two of them. There hadn't been any-and Merrill wasn't sure Morgan would even have agreed to watch, anyway, given his general transformation these days. They'd been left to the old adage of bedtime stories instead, with Isabelle snapping out of her worried trance in order to read to Bo, who was eager to show off her "grown-up bedroom".

A month prior, Morgan and Bo had decided they were too old to be sharing a room and after a little persuasion, Graham had agreed to Morgan moving out of the shared bedroom and into one of the two guest rooms. Morgan had worried his sister would be upset; on the contrary, Bo had been elated to have the whole room to herself.

Bo had nodded off remarkably peacefully after one story, and Morgan had taken himself off to bed shortly after, with the assurance that he didn't need to be read to, and that he could take care of himself. He was twelve, as he kept reminding everyone, and twelve wasn't a little kid anymore-as he also kept reminding everyone. When Isabelle had poked her head around his door an hour later, he'd been fast asleep, a comic book sprawled open on his chest. She'd shifted him further onto the bed and switched out his light, leaving her nephew to his dreams.

Merrill and Izzy had spent the rest of the evening sitting on the sofa, flipping through the TV channels, as though any show could possibly take their minds off what had just happened. Things hadn't been as bad as Izzy had feared when she'd buried her head in Merrill's shoulder on the sidewalk. Ray had still been alive when the paramedics had arrived, and lifted him into the ambulance. Graham had called them once from the hospital to say that Ray was in intensive care, and that there was nothing they could know, yet. Izzy and Merrill had spent the evening sitting on the couch, with Merrill hugging his girlfriend to him, holding her, until eventually worrying had worn her out and she'd nodded off on his shoulder. It had been eleven before Graham had returned with the news that Ray was still lying in intensive care, in a condition that was "critical but temporarily stable."

"And they don't know what caused it?" Merrill had whispered, watching Izzy's mouth as it twitched slightly in her dreams.

Graham had shaken his head. "It looked as if he'd just collapsed-spasms of his muscles, something that caused some sort of seizure-they've no idea. And now he's lapsed into an induced coma. We've just got no-" He sighed. "I kept talking to him but he didn't respond. Didn't say anything. So I came home. I'll have to go back tomorrow though. Can't just leave him alone."

Merrill had nodded, biting his lip. Ray might have killed Graham's wife, but Graham still wouldn't abandon him. That was just the way his brother was.

So, Merrill had shaken Isabelle gently awake and they'd driven home. And now, she was lying in bed, curled up, the way she always did when she was fretting, and Merrill wished there was something he could say to make it better.

"Hey" he said, moving toward her. It took a moment and then she turned to face him, her eyes wide. His heart ached at the sight and he slid onto the bed, his arm sliding round her shoulders, smoothing her hair. "Don't worry" he whispered, watching the pucker of her lips. "Worrying won't change anything."

Izzy watched him for a moment. "It was just so-" She sighed. "Seeing him like that. And what he said-" Her voice trailed off, and she watched Merrill, her hand rising to touch his cheek. Merrill closed his eyes, drifting in the sensation of her moving into his arms, her hand tracing his cheekbone. His breath caught in his throat.

He opened his eyes and met Isabelle's gaze head on, the words Ray had spoken echoing in his own head. You and your sister-...you need to know...

"He-he might have been delirious or something, you know-" He trailed off, aware of how lame the words sounded. "You can't take it seriously. He was-he was almost unconscious, Izzy-"

But he couldn't get rid of the other words echoing round his head. They're going to come back-they're coming back...

Or what those words might refer to.

Izzy moved closer to him, tucking her head under his chin. "Bet you think I'm freaking out over nothing, huh?"

Her voice, rueful, almost wry, sounded more like her, and Merrill suppressed a sigh of relief, that she was a little calmer, a little more relaxed. "Not nothing" he said, interspersing the words with kisses to her hair. "I just think-we don't need to take it this seriously, that's all. He was having a fit, Izzy. He might have been seeing something that wasn't real. That's all."

"Maybe" Izzy agreed, but a hint of doubt tinged the words, and Merrill bit his lip, aware that he hadn't convinced her fully.

But at this point, probably nothing except Ray's recovery could convince her, and he sighed, knowing there was little else they could do at this point. "Try and get some sleep" he whispered, wrapping his arms round her. Izzy always moved close to him in her sleep, wrapping herself around him, and it made him smile. The trust in her eyes when she looked at him now made him kiss her quickly and she smiled again, kissing him back, her hands in his hair.

"Is Graham going back to the hospital tomorrow?"

"Uh-huh. Guess we'll be watching Morgan and Bo."

"Guess so." Isabelle's hands slid into his hair and Merrill closed his eyes, as her mouth moved to his neck, where she whispered something. "What?"

"Love you." The words were whispered again and again, a litany as she moved her mouth to below his ear. "I love you, Merrill."

Merrill pulled her mouth back to his, pressing her against him, unable to think straight with her skin touching his, her body wrapped around his. "I love you, too."

She laughed gently, returning each kiss, as he pushed her back into the pillows. "Make me forget about it" she whispered. "Just for a bit."

Merrill watched her for a moment, his eyes looking into hers', before he bent forward and brushed his lips across hers', his arms sliding around her. She clung to his shoulders, deepening the kiss, until Merrill could barely breathe. He drew back from her, aware of his heartbeat in his ears, and Izzy pulled him back down, burying her mouth in the crook of his neck, making him gasp as her lips brushed under his ear. She kept kissing him, until Merrill had forgotten everything else, until the sound of his own whispers and the soft sensation of Isabelle's mouth, and the feeling of her wrapped around him, was the only thing in the world, just for a while.

Morgan opened his eyes, shooting bolt upright, gasping for breath. His skin was damp to the touch and he stared around his room, wild-eyed, for several moments before his brain kicked in.

It had only been a dream...it had just been a dream...

Morgan automatically glanced to his side, expecting to see his sister lying in the bed across the room, and felt the familiar lurch of disappointment in his stomach, as though he'd moved forward, expecting to find the stairs under his feet, and instead fallen into empty space. It'd been weeks, but he still wasn't entirely used to having a room to himself, and while the benefits vastly outweighed the negatives, there were still things he missed. Such as having someone there when he woke up in the night.

He sighed and swung his legs out of bed, dimly noting the sheets were damp with sweat and twisted with his pyjamas-he must have been thrashing around for a good few minutes before he woke up. His eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness, he glanced around, spotting his inhaler on the bedside table and wondering idly if he needed to use it. He didn't think so-his breathing was calming down now, his heartbeat slowing. It hadn't been real, after all.

He always had to remind himself of that, and yet it never seemed to stick in his head.

Pushing his hair back, Morgan sighed, heading for the bedroom door. He had enough experience with nightmares to know that it would be near impossible to get back to sleep for a while-he might as well do something with his time. He headed down the landing, bare feet padding over the floor, as he crept down the stairs.

Morgan only paused to glance into the family room for a moment, before he continued to the kitchen. It had been over a year since that morning, but he still remembered some things, contrary to what he told his worried father, uncle and aunt.

Being lifted. The feeling of something freezing on the back of his throat. The sick lurch as he fell through the air, the hard smack of the floor on his side, the impact reverberating throughout his entire body. And the sounds...the sounds it had made...

Morgan repressed a shudder as he continued to the kitchen. It was OK. They weren't coming back. They weren't.

He padded to the fridge, steadfastly refusing to look behind him. It was all right. He was perfectly safe.

If he kept thinking about it all, he'd go crazy.

He yanked open the fridge door, and pulled out a bottle of milk, upending it over a clean glass from the rack. He sighed, thinking of the events of the evening. It had just been-he bit his lip as he thought of Ray Reddy thrashing on the ground like that-weird. A year ago, Morgan had been confused about Ray Reddy. Eighteen months ago, he'd hated him.

Two years ago-well, he wouldn't have given the man a second thought. And there'd been no reason to.

He shook his head, shoving the bottle of milk back into the fridge. It was stupid to think about. It wasn't their fault Ray Reddy was lying in hospital. It had just been weird-seeing that. Seeing Isabelle and Uncle Merrill bent over him. He was sure that a year ago, Merrill couldn't have cared less what happened to Ray Reddy-but then he probably didn't want to annoy Isabelle. Morgan's lips broke into a reluctant grin.

Isabelle and Merrill had been going out for over a year now, and Morgan had pretty much gotten used to it. He still thought it was pretty funny, though-he remembered when they'd first met and his uncle hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. Morgan rolled his own eyes at the memory. If he ever looked at some girl that way, he knew he wouldn't hear the end of it, so he supposed it was only fitting that he get to wind his uncle up about it at every opportunity.

He shook his head again, turning back to the counter, his eyes drifting to the window. He let his eyes linger on the cornfields, taking in the sight of the crops waving in the moonlight, though there was no hint of a breeze.

A small flash of movement caught his gaze.

Morgan froze, his hand still gripping the glass, his eyes fixed on the window. He was painfully aware of his chest tightening and a brief image of his inhaler, abandoned on the bedside table upstairs, danced before his eyes. His heart seemed to lurch horribly against his ribs and he was suddenly very strongly aware of just how alone he was down in the kitchen, with everyone else upstairs...

They couldn't be back...they couldn't...

There was another flash of movement, almost too quick for his eyes to catch and Morgan's mouth opened. But no sound would reach his lips. He was aware of the skin prickling at the back of his neck, aware of every hair standing to attention on his body.

And then it moved again, and this time he recognized the sight.

Morgan's heart lurched in his chest again, this time with relief. "Bo?" he called, already heading to the kitchen door. He tugged at it, confused. It was locked. He stared at his sister through the window. How had she managed to get outside if-

He fiddled with the keys, grabbing them from the hook on the wall, and managed to unlock the back door with shaking fingers. "Bo?" he called again, as he pushed the door open, his bare feet flinching at the grain of the wood under his feet. He sprinted onto the grass, the blades damp with dew against his skin.

Bo was standing perfectly still, staring up at the house. Her face seemed unnaturally pale against the darkness, lit only by the eerie light of a full moon that hung low in the September sky. She was watching the house with eyes opened wide in an expression of fixed focus, her nightie billowing around her, though there seemed no breeze.

Morgan stopped still, a wave of unease ebbing in his chest. "Bo?" His voice was quieter than before, as he stopped where he was, a few feet from his sister, his teeth digging into his lip. Something about the situation was pushing at his brain, tugging in his chest, every sense he had screaming that this was not right, that something was off about the whole thing.

His sister gave no sign of having seen him or heard him. In fact, she gave no acknowledgement of his presence whatsoever. Instead, she simply stared up at the windows above, her eyes narrowing now. The expression of fierce concentration made Morgan's heart skip a beat-her face was too young to look that old.

"What are you doing?" His voice was a whisper. He shivered, even though the night was not cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he'd brought his inhaler out with him. His sister looked utterly gone. As though she wasn't even there, had travelled somewhere far away in her head, somewhere Morgan wasn't sure he could follow.

Bo didn't answer. Morgan hesitated, before taking another step closer. "What are you doing?" His voice was small in his throat as he watched his sister. She was still staring straight ahead, giving him no sign that she was aware of his presence at all.

Morgan swallowed, darting a nervous glance back at the house. "Bo, what are you-"

Her head moved slowly, her eyes focusing on his. He felt his lips turn up in a smile, relief filtering through his body, that she'd recognized him, that-

Her eyes narrowed, and Morgan took an involuntary step back. There was something about her face, something about her eyes, that sent chills down his spine. She didn't look like Bo. In that moment, she didn't look like his sister at all.

"Bo?" His voice cracked halfway through the word, and he felt himself shiver, wanting to reach out to her, but hesitating.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then her eyes closed. She shuddered, as if suddenly freezing-Morgan saw the hairs on her arms stand up as if the temperature had suddenly plummeted. Her head jerked up as her eyes flew open, meeting his in a direct stare.

The glare she sent in his direction felt like a physical blow and Morgan almost staggered. He struggled to right himself, dimly noting that this was not his sister, this couldn't be his sister, this couldn't be, she'd never been like that, never, she'd never looked at anyone like that...

He stumbled backwards as he swore that Bo's eyes flickered. "Bo?" His voice was louder this time and panic cracked the words in two. Behind his sister, the cornfields flickered ominously, almost in rhythm with the time of his heart.

Bo's head moved and she fixed her gaze on the window again. Morgan stared at her, heart pounding for a few moments. When she didn't move, he took one step back, then another. Then, with one last glance at his sister, he turned and raced into the house, the door banging behind him.

The journey up the stairs to his father's room took only a few moments but to Morgan it seemed like a lifetime. He was gasping for breath as he reached the top of the stairs and took a brief moment to regret not grabbing his inhaler when he'd made his way outside. He glanced down the landing, noting that Bo's door was wide open, before grabbing his father's door handle.

"Dad!" Morgan half-fell into the room, still gasping. "Dad!"

His father shot upright, and Morgan barely had time to think before Graham was at his side, his arm round his shoulders. "Morgan?" He guided his son to the bed, sitting him down carefully. "Breathe slowly."

Morgan could feel his father's arm around him, his chest loosening slightly. "Dad-it's Bo-"

"What?" His father bent closer, his arm still around Morgan, holding his son close to him. "What's wrong with Bo?"

Morgan took another shuddering breath as he turned to face his father. "She's outside-she's acting really weird-she's staring up at the house, and when I went out to talk to her-"

"Hold on a minute." His father held up his hand to cut Morgan off. "She's outside, right now?"

Morgan nodded. "Yeah. And she's acting really strange. I went down to get a glass of milk and she was just standing there, staring up at the house, and then when I went outside to ask her what she was doing-she just didn't answer me for ages, it was like she couldn't hear-and then when she did look at me-" He bit his lip. "She kind of snarled at me or something. Like, really glared. And then she just went back to staring at the house. So I came to get you."

Graham was watching his son, his face inscrutable in the darkness. "OK." He swallowed, pushing his hand through his hair. "OK." Morgan watched his father, but he couldn't tell anything from his expression.

Graham stood up suddenly, and Morgan followed as he grabbed his robe from the door, before heading out onto the landing. Morgan glanced down the hallway, and blinked. Bo's door, which he had been sure was standing wide open, was now closed over, the same way it had been when she went to sleep earlier.

His father was already halfway down the stairs and Morgan hurried after him, wishing for a moment his uncle was here. Uncle Merrill would know what to say, he thought.

Graham was pulling at the doorknob, when Morgan reached the kitchen. "It's locked." He shot Morgan a suspicious look, his eyes narrowed. "I thought you said she was outside?"

"She was" said Morgan. "It was like that when I came down." He shrugged. "Maybe she got out the front door."

"She can't reach the handle." Graham reached for the keys and it was then that Morgan was struck by a realization.

"Dad, I unlocked the door earlier-"

The door was already open, and Graham was on the porch, scouring the back yard with his eyes. They lingered for a moment on the cornfields, before glancing away.

"Morgan?"

Frowning, Morgan stepped outside, his own eyes narrowing. He stared out at the backyard.

It was empty. There was nothing out of place, nothing unusual to see. Bo had simply vanished.

"I don't get it." Morgan stared at his father, knowing how useless the explanation sounded. "Dad, she was right there!"

Graham stared at his son for a long moment, his expression almost unreadable. He scanned the cornfield, taking in the crops, the absence of any small girl. With no word at all, he turned, walking back inside. Morgan followed him, his teeth chewing at his lip, unable to think of anything but the steadfast certainty that his sister had been outside.

Graham headed upstairs without a word and it took Morgan a moment to realize where his father was going. Bo's bedroom door was in exactly the position it had been left the night before, as if nothing unusual had occurred, and Morgan bit his lip, aware of how unbelievable the whole situation looked.

Graham pushed at the door gently, peering into the room, and even though he suspected what his father would find by this point, it was still difficult to stifle a gasp.

Bo was lying curled up in bed, fast asleep, her thumb tucked into her mouth, as was her wont, her face relaxed in dreams. Her eyelids fluttered, lashes brushing her cheek, covers wound comfortably around her. She certainly gave no sign of having been outside recently.

Graham raised an eyebrow and then gently raised the covers off the bottom of the bed, exposing his daughter's bare feet. They were clean, smooth-unlike Morgan's, which were damp with dirt. Graham turned, dropping the duvet cover, and giving his son a long look.

"I'm not lying!" Morgan protested, painfully aware of how hollow the claim sounded. "Dad, I swear-"

His father sighed. "If this was a joke, Morgan, it wasn't very funny."

Morgan stared at him. "Dad, it wasn't a joke! She was there, I know she was there-" He could feel his chest tightening, his voice rising in pitch. "Dad, you've got to-"

"Daddy?" They both turned at the confused whisper from the bed. Bo was sitting upright, her eyes on her brother and her father, puzzlement radiating from her in waves.

Graham shot his son a warning look before placing a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Morgan just had a bad dream."

"It wasn't a dream" Morgan protested, but his words lacked conviction.

Bo blinked, snuggling back down under the bedclothes. "Night, Morgan." Her voice was soft, her eyelids already dropping again, as she slid back into sleep. Morgan stared at her. He could tell when his sister was faking sleep or exhaustion and right now, she didn't seem to be doing either.

Graham sighed, staring down at his daughter. "Sleep well" he whispered, but she was already unaware of his voice.

He placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder, steering him out of the room, before gently pulling the door to behind him. He turned, with a long sigh, to look at his son.

"Dad, she was there, I promise she was there-"

Graham pushed a hand through his hair. "Maybe you just had a dream, Morgan." He turned toward the top of the stairs. "I'll go and check the front door if you want." His head disappeared down the steps before Morgan could reply.

He turned to stare at his sister's bedroom, his mind racing through one theory after another. What had happened? What the hell could have happened?

Graham reappeared moments later, shaking his head. "Front door's locked. Everything's locked, including the windows" he said, touching Morgan's shoulder. "It must have been a dream."

"What about my feet?" Morgan argued, pointing at them. "They were damp when I came up here."

Graham shrugged helplessly. "Maybe you were sleepwalking?" He sighed. "Look, let's discuss it in the morning, OK? But I don't think there's any danger in going back to bed now."

Morgan sighed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Seeing his son's expression, Graham reached out to ruffle his hair, and for once, Morgan didn't push him away. "I believe you think you saw something" his father said quietly. "I know you're not lying. I just think it might not be as real as you believe. OK?"

It wasn't OK, not nearly OK. But Morgan knew that, at this hour, it was the best his father could offer.

With a last look at his sister's bedroom door, he turned back to his own room. He wondered just how much sleep he was going to get.

Isabelle's eyes opened slowly, and she sighed, shifting closer to Merrill as she did so. His arms were still around her, and he murmured something that she didn't catch.

"What is it?" She turned over, her arms looping around his neck. "What's wrong?"

Merrill sighed and let his head fall onto her shoulder, and it was then that she noticed his eyes were still closed. Whatever he'd said, he wasn't awake for it. She closed her eyes, letting herself move against his chest. "Just dreaming" she whispered, planting a kiss on his shoulder. Merrill often murmured in his sleep, though she doubted he was aware of it. She wondered if he dreamt more often than he claimed.

Merrill shifted against her, and his arms wound tighter around her. "Izzy-" Her name on his lips in sleep was as clear as in any waking hour. His arms tightened around her almost painfully. "Izzy, no-"

Isabelle raised her head to look at him. "What?" she whispered, disconcerted. "Merrill?" She shook him gently. "Merrill?"

But he didn't say anything, and after a moment, his grip on her relaxed, his dreams apparently peaceful again. Isabelle watched him for a moment, her eyes narrowed, before slowly settling into his arms again.

It took her a while to fall back asleep.

The first thing Merrill thought of when he woke up was Isabelle. The second thing he thought, irrationally, was that he was glad she was still there. Images swam in his head from the previous night's dreams-he couldn't remember anything clearly, but all of them left him with a vague sense of unease, a strange, unnerving uncertainty.

Isabelle sighed and turned against him, and he watched her, still filled with an uncanny relief that she was there. He watched her, taking her in, a thousand little details leaping out-the exact shade of her skin, the way his hands could get lost in her hair, the curve of her hips, the way she buried her head right in the crook of his neck, her lips gliding behind his ear, the way her eyes could smile when she looked at him...

Isabelle sighed, her hand sliding into his even before her eyes opened. "Hey.." Her voice was low, her lips already curving into a smile. He planted a quick kiss on her forehead, feeling that same sense of relief washing over him again, relishing the feeling of her so close to him. "Hey. Sleep OK?"

"Watching me while I sleep?" The mischief in her gaze was all too clear and Merrill felt his own lips break into a grin, as Isabelle pulled him closer, her head nestling against his chest, ear over his heart. His hand stroked her hair and after a moment, she raised her head, her lips ghosting over his. "You sleep OK?"

He nodded slowly, and frowned as she raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Isabelle shook her head. "You just had a few nightmares, that's all."

"I did?" Merrill sat up straighter, pulling her with him-she grinned and settled her head on his shoulder, planting a kiss below his ear.

"Yeah. You were saying my name a lot. And you sounded kinda panicky." Izzy turned to face him, her hand playing over his. "Then you just went back to sleep. You remember any of it?"

Merrill shook his head. "Not really-" Vague images danced in his mind. Izzy's name on his lips, just out of his reach...

Isabelle frowned. "Maybe just a dream." She straightened up a little, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Any news about Ray Reddy yet?"

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Let me check my Psychic Message Inbox."

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Your humour just descended to a new low."

"I thought it was brilliant."

"Of course you did." Izzy's lips brushed his as she tickled him playfully, before her eyes narrowed, and that worried pucker returned to her forehead. "Seriously, I need to know."

Merrill sighed. "Well, we're going to Graham's for breakfast. See if he knows anything then."

Isabelle sighed, leaning against him. "OK, but-" She fiddled with her hair, eyes absorbed in some distant rumination.

Merrill nudged her gently. "You OK?"

Isabelle nodded, her eyes meeting his once again. "Yeah. Just thinking-what happened last night-" She swallowed. "It was weird, wasn't it?"

Merrill nodded, fighting back the warning voice in his head. "Yeah, it was weird-"

Isabelle chewed her lip. "So, what if other weird stuff starts happening?"

Merrill pulled her closer. "Don't worry. Worrying's not going to change anything. And it's-" He struggled for a moment. "It's not what you're thinking about."

He knew all too well what she was thinking about, because the thoughts had crossed his mind too.

Isabelle stared at him. "But that's what we all said, last time" she pointed out. "And how can we be sure, Merrill?"

She looked so anxious, so pent-up that it tugged at Merrill's heart and he pulled her closer. "We don't know" he pointed out, mouth half-muffled in her hair. "But we can't just keep worrying about it."

Isabelle opened her mouth to argue, then sighed. "I just wish we knew, that's all" she muttered, before leaning into Merrill again, letting her head lie against his chest.

Merrill brushed his lips against hers', trying to push the thought out of his own head. He was used to dispelling any worries Isabelle brought to him with the simple glib assurance that things would work out for the best. And most of the time, they did. They'd worked out when she was stressed over her college final exams. They'd worked out when she was worried about Morgan and Bo going back to school after everything that had happened the previous summer. They'd worked out after pretty much every worry that Izzy got into her head.

Merrill could only hope that they would this time, too.

The corn crops waved innocuously back and forth in the air, as Isabelle sat slumped on the porch, head on Merrill's shoulder. Morgan sat cross-legged on the grass, absent-mindedly petting the dog, his eyes distant. Isabelle had made several attempts at conversation with him, but nothing seemed to spark any interest, and after a while, she had given up.

Bo was climbing up the jungle gym, her hands gripping the railings of the ladder tightly, her voice occasionally ringing through the air, as she shrieked for her family to watch. Isabelle tracked her niece with her eyes lazily, watching the way her hands waved above her head, the excited whirlwind of her body. Bo was growing up, but a child still lived in her skin.

She bent her head to Merrill's ear. "What's up with Morgan?" She indicated her morose-looking nephew with a tilt of the head, tugging at her hair.

Merrill tilted his face to look at her, his lips an inch from her cheek. "Teenage stuff?" His eyebrow raised, making Isabelle shiver slightly. She moved closer to him, her lips brushing his neck.

Merrill's eyes closed for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was slightly uneven. Isabelle's grin undid him even more. "I'll speak to him if you want" he said, when he could trust himself to speak clearly.

Isabelle's grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Maybe he won't say" she mused, tugging at her hair. "He's been pretty averse to being treated like a kid, recently."

Merrill sighed, tipping his head against hers'. "Then maybe, he won't want me asking." He shrugged, pulling Isabelle's hands into his. "When I was his age, I spent most of the time looking like that." He indicated Morgan with a jerk of the head. "In fact, I spent most of the time with that exact expression on my face."

"Moody, were you?" Isabelle's voice was teasing, her eyes staring into his, her smile almost light enough that Merrill could believe that the anxious girl he'd seen there that morning had vanished, that Isabelle had never worried a day in her life. But if he looked closer, he could see.

He could always see.

He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Maybe." The comment drew a smirk from her lips and Merrill pulled her closer again. His eyes rested on his nephew, who would usually be calling out to them by this point, requesting that they remember that they weren't alone, and to stop that, for God's sake, before he was scarred for life. But Morgan remained silent, his eyes focused on some point in the near-distance.

"God-" Merrill's voice was faint and Isabelle turned to look at him, eyes narrowing. "What?"

Merrill shook his head slowly, his own eyes closed. "I just referred to when I was his age." He shook his head. "It's like I'm one step away from needing a walking stick."

Isabelle snorted. "Merrill. Be realistic. You're twenty-seven. You're not exactly about to pick up a Zimmer frame."

He shook his head, the familiar smile back at his lips. "This from the girl who freaked out over no longer being able to watch Disney cartoons last night."

Isabelle elbowed him playfully, her head back on his shoulder. She sighed and the warmth of her mouth near his neck made him shudder. He let his hand slide into her hair, the warm weight slipping over his fingers.

Graham's footsteps had them both sitting up, moving a little apart from each other. "How's the almost-teenager over there?" He indicated his son, sinking down beside Merrill, his eyes narrowed. Isabelle turned behind her, eyes scanning the house. "Pancakes ready?"

Merrill rolled his eyes but before he could say anything, Graham was speaking. "We had a bit of trouble last night."

"Trouble?" Isabelle was staring at her brother-in-law, eyes wide, and Merrill noticed how her gaze automatically flickered to Morgan before moving cautiously to Bo, and finally settling on the cornfields beyond.

Graham sighed, before launching into a brief explanation of the events of the night before. Merrill and Isabelle listened as he related how Morgan had woken him up with the news that his sister was outside, only for Graham to find Bo tucked up in bed.

"What do you reckon?" he asked, when the story was complete. "Just a nightmare?"

Merrill shrugged. "Probably." He glanced at Isabelle for support. "I mean, it doesn't sound like he was making it up." His eyes rested on his nephew's bowed head.

Isabelle shook her head. "It's never been like Morgan to make things up. Not like that, anyway. But this-" She shook her head, her own eyes clouding over for an instant.

"You had nightmares last night." This, addressed to Merrill, made him jump.

"Yeah, you mentioned."

Graham frowned. "Bad night for everyone it seems."

"How's Ray?" Isabelle asked immediately, while Merrill restrained himself from rolling his eyes with great difficulty.

Graham sighed. "He's doing a little better, from what I've heard. I phoned them this morning-he's still in intensive care and they're running tests. But there's no visitors allowed today so-" He shook his head slowly. "They just don't understand what could cause seizures like that. None of the hallmarks of any usual conditions are showing up."

Isabelle frowned. "This, Morgan-" She glanced at Merrill. "Your nightmares-"

Merrill knew what was coming. "Izzy-" He slid his arm around her shoulders. "It's probably not anything like that."

"How do you know?" Her voice was sharper than he'd expected. "We didn't think it was anything like that last time."

"How do I know?" His own voice was louder, too. "I know because-because everything isn't a freaking alien invasion! Sometimes, weird stuff can just happen and that's all it is-just weird stuff! God, sometimes things are just-"

He broke off at the look on Isabelle's face. Her eyes were wide, and she was staring at him, her lips slightly parted. She was trembling, a vague vibration under his hands, and dimly, Merrill became aware that he was shaking too, his own fists clenched.

"Merrill-" Graham's voice broke through the haze that seemed to have taken over his brain, the words shattering the red mist that had formed in front of his eyes. His brother's hand was on his shoulder, a warning touch familiar to Merrill from childhood, from years of being held back from fights, from rushing in without thinking.

His eyes focused on Isabelle's face, the colour drained from her cheeks, her eyes wide with shock. Rage left his body as abruptly as if it had been sucked away, leaving nothing behind, but a vague, hollow emptiness, already tinged with the beginnings of regret and, when he looked into Isabelle's eyes, a wave of horror.

"Izzy-" He pushed his hand through his hair. "God, Izzy, I'm sorry, I don't know what I was-" He closed his eyes, struggling to get his bearings. He couldn't even remember why he'd started shouting, when his voice had gotten louder. "Izzy, God, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry-" Her mouth had closed tight now, but her eyes looked suspiciously moist.

Merrill pushed his hands against his eyes, still reeling. What the hell had happened? Why had he shouted at her? Why had he- All he could remember was the rage suddenly rushing through his body, with the force of a wave. And now-now all he could see was Isabelle.

"Izzy,-" His arm slid around her shoulders again, tilting her face to his. Dimly, he became aware that Bo's laughter had died away, and when he glanced up, he was met with the sight of the little girl's eyes, wide and staring, as they watched him and Isabelle. She was stock still at the top of the slide and even Morgan had broken free from his stupor to stare at him.

Graham stood up. "OK." He walked to the jungle gym, already holding out his arms to lift Bo from the top of the slide. "Time to eat." Bo slid into his arms, her eyes still fixed on Merrill and Isabelle. Morgan was watching them shrewdly, his eyes narrowed.

"Morgan." Graham's tone was slightly sharper this time. "Come on."

Morgan moved slowly, but he got to his feet, following his father inside, his eyes fixed on Merrill and Isabelle. Bo's voice sounded through the air, high and clear, as her father carried her. "Is Isabelle OK?"

"She's fine, Bo-" Merrill did not hear the rest of Graham's answer, as he carried his daughter inside, tactfully shutting the door behind him.

Merrill turned to face Isabelle. "Izzy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I never meant it, I promise-"

She shrugged, her gaze turned away, her shoulders tight. Merrill caught the telltale tapping of her foot-a sure sign of rising tension, and was seized with a longing to bite out his own tongue.

"I'm sorry-" He couldn't say anything but that, frantically scanning the previous few minutes for anything that could have triggered the fury that had swept through him, whatever had made him-

Isabelle tilted her head to look at him. "You know, you can tell me if I'm annoying you" she said, her voice strangely tight, restrained. "I'd rather know, Merrill."

"Jesus, Izzy, you don't annoy me-" But then why had he shouted at her? The thought had barely crossed his mind, when he saw the same question reflected in Isabelle's eyes.

He swallowed, winding her hair around his fingers. "I didn't mean to yell at you." The words held a hint of a pleading undertone. "I just-"

"You just what?" Izzy ducked her head forward, her eyes veiled, secretive.

Merrill stared at her. "I just got-I don't know, I just-" He bit his lip. "I didn't mean it, OK?" He leaned closer to her. "I'm sorry." He waited until she looked at him, her eyes meeting his, and his hand stroked the skin of her cheek, his thumb ghosting under her lips. "I'm sorry, Izzy."

Isabelle looked at him for a long moment, her eyes inscrutable, before she tilted her head, letting her lips brush across his.

Merrill's hands slid into her hair, braiding strands of it between his fingers, his heart twisting with relief. All he could think about was that moment he'd lost it-those moments he'd been shouting at her-and he couldn't even remember what had made him so furious now. All he could remember was the look on Izzy's face as she watched him-the way she'd stared at him, stunned into silence by the tirade.

Izzy was kissing him gently, her lips soft and warm and it took some effort for Merrill to pull away. "I mean it, Izzy. I'm sorry. I'll-" He stared at her, wishing for some way to show her how sorry he was, to prove it.

Isabelle laid her head against his shoulder, nestling into him the way she had done so many times before. "I get worked up about stupid stuff." She pulled at her hair, her eyes distracted. "Don't blame you for losing it."

"You should." Merrill pressed a kiss to her hair. "I shouldn't have said it."

Isabelle turned to him with a smile. "You don't have to keep apologizing, you know. It's OK."

Merrill nodded and smiled, but somehow, he didn't think it was. At least, not with him.

After the usual breakfast kerfuffle, with Bo insisting that her pancakes be spread with exactly the right amount of syrup, and Morgan shrugging his shoulders in response to most questions, Graham eyed his younger brother curiously as he shoved the dishes into the sink. Merrill's eyes were trained on Isabelle, clearly visible through the kitchen window, crouched beside Morgan on the lawn.

"So-" said Graham, deliberately keeping his voice low. He watched his daughter climb back onto the jungle gym, her voice high with excitement. "What was all that about?"

Merrill jerked as if fending off a fly. "What?"

Graham raised an eyebrow. His brother had never been able to fool him, not since they were children and he'd been able to see through Merrill's strenuous denials that he was the one who'd taken the last cookie from the jar. Merrill sighed and turned back to the dishes.

"You mean with Isabelle." It wasn't a question.

Graham shrugged, waiting in silence for his brother's answer.

Merrill sighed. "I don't know. I just-" He closed his eyes, struggling to remember the moment that rage had ripped through his body, just watching her. Just listening to her worry. He dug his teeth into his lip.

"I just lost it, Graham." He turned to look at his brother. "It was-it freaked me out. I couldn't even-control it. It was like I just-lost it. I didn't even know I'd done it until I was shouting at her. Why did I-" He pushed his hand through his hair. "I don't even know why" he finished, so quietly that Graham had to strain to hear the words.

Graham watched his brother in silence for a moment. He knew Merrill. He knew him inside out, had done since the day he was born-knew he would never hurt Isabelle, not if his life depended on it. He knew that as surely as he knew his own name.

And yet, he'd seen that look in Merrill's eyes, when he'd fastened his hand onto his brother's shoulder, the same way he'd done countless times as a child, pulling him back from a playground scuffle. He'd seen that look and it had sent a chill down his spine.

It hadn't looked like his brother.

Graham sighed and turned back to the dishes. "You can go out and talk to her, if you want."

"Already did." Merrill sighed, holding a mug in one hand, his eyes fixed on a spot outside the window, lost in contemplation. "Told her I was sorry about a million times. She's OK with it, I think, but-" He shook his head. "Why did I lose it, Graham?"

Graham looked at his brother-a long, searching look. "I don't know" was all he said, before turning back to the dishes. Merrill's eyes remained focused on the window, staring at Isabelle through the glass, so that he missed the intensity of his elder brother's gaze, the long moment in which Graham watched Merrill with something remarkably like worry in his eyes.

"So-" Isabelle sprawled next to Morgan in the grass. "Your dad tells me you had some nightmares last night?"

Morgan, who had been staring moodily into space, snapped out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "God, it wasn't a nightmare. I don't know why he won't just believe me."

"Don't you?" Isabelle's voice was sharp and her eyes met Morgan's for a long moment. Morgan stared at her. She was as familiar to him as his own sister-he could remember childhood hours spent with Isabelle, yanking the duvet over his and Bo's heads, whispering hour-long stories to them that could send them into fits of giggles or storms of terror. She'd always collapsed laughing, afterwards, and Morgan had always thought she looked far younger when she did so, almost as young as them.

He sighed. "Yeah. Because it sounds unbelievable. It sounds like some stupid story or nightmare. But it was real." He stared at her. "I know it was real."

Isabelle knew how it felt not to be believed. She'd spent her entire childhood having people misunderstand the fears that plagued her everyday life-having things lined up straight, tasting the water over and over, checking her schoolwork numerous times. All behaviours that had been dismissed alternately as "silly", "infantile", or "attention-getting."

Or, in the words of her classmates, just plain "freaky".

So, now, when her nephew, who she couldn't remember lying a day in his life, was telling her a story of something beyond strange happening in his own house, to his own sister-Isabelle had to consider it.

Especially given that they were no strangers to weird events. She glanced at the cornfields and shuddered.

"You know why it sounds unbelievable to your dad, though" she continued slowly. "Even if it's true-it still sounds unbelievable to him."

Morgan looked at her. "You mean-you're saying-"

Isabelle nodded. "I believe you." She smiled at the look on his face, the grateful relief already pouring into his eyes. "But-" She held up a hand. "I don't know how easy it's going to be to convince your dad. And what's more-" She glanced at the jungle gym, her eyes narrowed. "I think we might need to keep an eye on your little sister."

Morgan stared at her. "You think she's lying?" Beyond them, Bo pulled herself up the ladder, laughing at some invisible joke, looking for all the world as though nothing unusual had occurred.

Isabelle shook her head. "No-quite the opposite. I was actually thinking that she might be telling the truth, too-or at least, she believes she is." She glanced at Morgan. "What did she seem like, when you and your dad went in to see her?"

Morgan shrugged. "Normal." He and Isabelle exchanged a look and he grinned. "I mean, normal for Bo." He suppressed a smirk as he glanced at his younger sister. "Sleepy. I mean, it didn't look like she was faking it, or anything." The grin vanished as he dug his fingernail into the grass. "I just don't know what to make of it" he muttered quietly, glancing up at Isabelle as he spoke. A part of him-the part of him that still remembered how as a child, Isabelle had been able to soothe the nightmares away as well as his own mother, how she'd always been the one to make him laugh when all he wanted to do was cry-hoped that she'd have some answer, some simple formula that would explain the entire thing, clear the whole situation up, so that they could go on like normal.

Isabelle's hand touched his shoulder. "I think we need to keep an eye on your sister" she said, her voice lower now, quiet. "Anything else happening over the next few days-tell me. We'll sort it. But let's just keep an eye on her, OK?"

It wasn't an ideal solution, but Morgan supposed that it was the best he could hope for, under the circumstances.

Morgan sighed. "Are you OK?" He didn't refer to the reason for asking. He didn't need to.

Isabelle bit her lip, unsure just how much she should be sharing with her twelve-year-old nephew. "I'm OK. It was just a fight."

"I've never seen you fight before."

Isabelle swallowed. "We don't fight that often."

Morgan bit his lip. "I guess not." He looked at her properly, this time. "Are you sure you're OK?"

Isabelle nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. We made it up."

Morgan held up his hand. "Please don't tell me how."

Isabelle smirked. "Next time I want to annoy you, I'll torture you with the details."

"God, please, no."

Isabelle broke into laughter, and Morgan joined in. It was weird to think that Isabelle would never have talked to him like this even a year ago. Weird, but kind of cool-he was older now. Less of a kid. Not like Bo.

Isabelle sighed, curled up on the lawn. "What are your plans for today?"

"Homework." Morgan felt his face sink back into a scowl as he thought of the heaps of homework he'd received since the beginning of middle school. He rolled his eyes. "It sucks."

Isabelle winced. "Inclined to agree. Graduate school isn't much easier."

"Yeah, but at least you're studying for a career."

"I guess."

Isabelle was watching Morgan more closely now, and he frowned. "What?"

She shrugged. "Know it's early days, but have you thought about what you're going to do at some point?"

Morgan shrugged back. "No idea. Sometimes, I think about science. Other times, I think about-" He shifted uneasily. Isabelle watched him.

"What?"

"It sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't." She frowned suddenly. "Don't tell me you're planning to be a shoplifter or something."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Right on my To Do list."

Isabelle laughed, and he sighed. "No. I was thinking, maybe I'd want to do something to do with studying stuff like aliens. If you know, there is such a career-" He trailed off, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks.

"There is." Morgan looked at her, surprised. Isabelle nodded. "Cryptozoologist. It's a career. If psychology fell through, I'd consider it." She pulled at her hair. "It's all based on scientific tests and stuff."

Morgan shrugged. "Something to think about."

They both turned at the sound of a door opening behind them, the footsteps clattering over the steps. Merrill was heading over the grass toward them, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He slumped down next to Isabelle, his hand reaching for hers'. Isabelle nestled under his arm.

Morgan watched them for a moment, but not with his eyes rolling, as they usually were when he saw them acting like this. This time, his thoughts were straying back to the moment less than an hour before, when he'd seen his uncle's eyes as he shouted. Shouted, in a way Morgan had never heard Merrill do before. He hadn't looked like Morgan's uncle, then. He'd looked like a stranger.

Morgan pushed the thought out of his mind.

Isabelle pressed her lips to his uncle's cheek, and Merrill kissed her hair quickly, before throwing his nephew a quick wink. Morgan rolled his eyes.

It was at that moment that Bo's voice rung through the air. "Morgan!"

"What?" Morgan scrambled to his feet as he spotted Bo frozen with her back to the group on the lawn. She was standing at the top of the slide, her fists clenched. Her long hair waving in the wind was the only indication of movement about her body.

"Bo?" Isabelle, too, was pulling herself upright, Merrill moving with her. "Do you need help getting down?"

They were moving forward together, now, the three of them in unison. Morgan swallowed, his chest tightening. He patted his pocket, assuring himself of the continued presence of his inhaler.

"Bo?" Isabelle broke free of the line, hurrying forward to the jungle gym. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

She stepped onto the ladder, pulling herself upward by the hands, into the jungle gym's small cabin area, where Bo stood. "What's wrong-" Her voice trailed off, as she saw what Bo was staring at.

Nestled into the very corner of the cabin, where they could barely be glimpsed in the shadows, were two baby birds. They were curled around one another, their feathers coated in dust.

Their heads were both separated from their necks. They were nestled together, the two beaks touching, on top of the bodies, like a trophy or an offering.

Isabelle clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh, my God-oh my goodness, Bo-come here, sweetheart-"

Bo didn't move. She stood still, her eyes on the bodies. They were wide, the pupils dilated. Her face was pale, her mouth hanging open oddly, almost a gash in her face.

"Bo!" Isabelle's voice was sharper now. By this time, Morgan and Merrill had both reached the foot of the ladder, both craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the source of Bo's distraction.

Merrill, being the taller, saw the birds first. His eyes widened. "Jesus-"

"Bo!" Isabelle was curled inside the jungle gym now, careful to keep herself as far away from the birds as possible. "Bo, sweetheart, what's happening?"

Bo wasn't moving. Instead, her eyes had become glassy, her whole body frozen. Her eyes were trained on the birds. A bead of sweat was making its' way from her hairline to her cheek. For a moment, Morgan wondered if his little sister was about to throw up.

But she didn't. She just stood there.

"BO!" Isabelle reached out to touch the little girl's arm then-and Bo pulled away.

Morgan stared at his sister in shock. So much for just keeping an eye on Bo.

"Bo?" It was Graham's voice, and Morgan turned in relief at the sight of his father. "What's going on?"

"Bo's found two dead birds" explained Merrill, without taking his eyes off his niece. His voice was tight in his throat. "And she's not speaking."

"What?" Graham stepped between his son and his brother, his arms pulling him onto the jungle gym ladder rungs. "Bo?"

His eyes widened at the sight of Isabelle, crammed into the jungle gym with his daughter. His sister-in-law turned to stare at him imploringly over her shoulder. "She won't speak, Graham."

"Bo?" Graham leaned forward, his eyes taking in the sight of the birds and his motionless daughter in one swift glance. "Bo, sweetheart-what's wrong?"

Bo did not speak. Her face seemed to be growing paler by the moment.

"Bo?" Graham's own face was whitening, his eyes fixed on his daughter. Isabelle was frozen. "She wouldn't let me touch her" she whispered to Graham. "She yanked away from me."

Graham's eyes narrowed. "Bo?" Slowly, his arm stretched out, coming nearer and nearer to her skin. "Bo?"

Morgan was frozen, watching his father. Merrill's eyes were trained on Isabelle, who was staring at Bo, as though she was afraid that the little girl would vanish the second her gaze wavered.

Graham's hand was closer to Bo's arm. "Bo?" His fingers were an inch from her skin.

And then she moved.

Her mouth opened and then she lifted her eyes. Her gaze locked with Isabelle's first, before roaming to Merrill's and Morgan's faces, taking in their anxious expressions, before finally landing on Graham.

"Daddy?" Her voice was quavering and thin, and she took a step toward her father-carefully avoiding the birds, and allowing Isabelle to take her hand in support.

"Careful, sweetheart." He lowered himself by a rung. She stepped into his open arms, her hands settling behind his neck. He hugged her to him, stepping back to allow Merrill room to reach out for Isabelle, who was sliding out of the cabin after her niece.

"Do you remember what happened, sweetheart?" The words were a soft murmur, but his daughter heard them.

"I didn't like the birds." That was all that came out of her mouth. "I didn't like the birds." Graham was already carrying her toward the house.

"Merrill?" He turned, looking at his younger brother over his shoulder. "Could you maybe-" He gestured at the jungle gym. "Get rid of the-"

"Are you going to tell Caroline?" Graham's eyes locked with his younger brother's, a moment of unspoken conversation.

"I don't know."

Merrill sighed. "Shouldn't we leave them where they are, then?"

Graham wavered, torn for a moment. "Take a picture of them. And if anything else happens, then we'll get Caroline in." His eyes were faintly pleading and he indicated his daughter with a jerk of the head. "Can you just take care of it while I-" Once again, he indicated Bo.

They were too far away to hear clearly, but Isabelle was fairly sure she caught the sound of Bo's voice on the air, saying something to the effect of "not a baby...can hear you." Graham's answer was lost in the distance between them.

She turned to Merrill, her eyes landing on the jungle gym. "What the hell's going on?" The words were a murmur, but Merrill shook his head.

"No idea." He sighed, tugging at his shirt. "But I'd better get them out of there before Bo sees them and freaks out again." He raised an eyebrow. "Save the best job for me, like always."

It was a joke, but Isabelle barely smiled. Instead, she and her nephew exchanged a long glance, before turning their gazes on the sky. It suddenly seemed a lot greyer than earlier, clouds hanging ominously over their heads, and Isabelle shivered, despite the warmth of the day. The breeze picked up, sending the tops of the corn swaying in rhythm, silent dancers in the field, facing the house. Isabelle knew it was silly, knew they were only corn crops, but she couldn't get rid of the feeling that they were quietly, constantly watching.

Soundtrack:

1. Hotel Roosevelt by Augustana

2. Believer by Kill Hannah

3. Cemetery Drive by My Chemical Romance

4. Conspiracy by Paramore

5. Gleaming Auction by Snow Patrol

6. What Difference Does It Make? by the Smiths.

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