"Is there anything you would like to say, Jack?"

He stared at his balled up fists in silence, feeling the pit of his stomach clench. M. Fung patiently sat back in the chair across from him, knowing it could be a long time before the boy answered.

"I don't see why you keep talking to me," Jack mumbled, shifting his gaze to his boots. "I'm not all that interesting and I'm not even part of your team."

"But you are a child, and the last we spoke you sounded as if you were going through very much."

"Well, yeah, I'm sixteen, basically neglected, and haven't had a real conversation with someone since first grade. If I wasn't a little messed up it'd be a miracle."

"You are not 'messed up', as you say. These problems are quite common among people in your circumstances."

"You say it like I starve or something. Look, it's hard sometimes but I'm better off than some kids are. Mom's still rich, I've got a lair that any boy genius would die for-"

"Yet you have troubles just the same," M. Fung insisted. "We discussed them the last time you-"

"This is about that stupid nightmare those losers picked up on, isn't it?" Jack snapped, suddenly looking directly at his elder. "I told you, it donesn't have anything to do with that night."

"That is not what we both agreed upon when you came here-"

"Well it's what I'm saying now."

"Please, Jack," M. Fung gently said, as Jack looked ready to either fight him or flee. "There is no need to be high strung. We are simply having a conversation, a friendly one."

Jack took a deep breath and relaxed a little.

"I have seen the effects trauma can cause in young ones such as yourself," M. Fung continued. "Witnessing what you did that night-"

"Stop!" Jack commanded, squeezing his eyes closed. "Don't even say it!"

"Can cause you to have later problems, now we need to go over it-"

"I don't ne-ed to go over anything!" Jack cried, jumping up from the chair. "Now stop talking about it!"

"I'm trying to help, Jack, if you don't allow yourself-"

"Stop it!"

M. Fung stared at the boy; Jack had thrown his hands over his ears and was hyperventilating, his face contorted in what was plainly fear. This was just the reaction he'd been afraid of.

"Yes, yes, alright," he said, standing and removing Jack's hands from his ears. "I apologize for frightening you so."

Jack allowed himself to relax a little.

"...It's...it's fine," he said quietly. "I just...I'm just not ready..."

M. Fung nodded and motioned for him to sit again. He did so slowly, feeling a little nauseous.

"Well then," the monk started. "Let us talk of other things. How do you feel about Stryker Young?"

The question took Jack by surprise.

"Um...he's cool," Jack answered. "We only met today, but he's pretty cool."

"Do you feel you can trust him?"

"...I could..."

"Then we are stepping in the right direction," M. Fung said. "Now, I think I have kept you long enough, Jack. Why don't you see if Stryker needs help with anything."

"Yeah, okay..." Jack muttered, standing up with the monk. "Uh...thanks, I guess."

"Do not think of it. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here, Jack. Good night."

"Good night."

He tried to meet the smile the monk gave him; Jack waited until M. Fung had his back turned, then bolted out the door. It wasn't that he didn't like the monk, he just made him nervous. Then again, every adult made him nervous as of late. It was probably because they were either sadistic, crazy, or just plain idiotic.

"Hey."

Jack jumped a little and looked over to see Stryker in one of the curtained rooms. He hadn't even realized he'd been walking this way.

"H-Hi," he greeted, trying to sound cheerful. "Uh, what's up?"

"Nothing much," Stryker said slowly, tilting his head. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah, why?"

"'Cause you just about sprinted past me. Something happen in there?"

"Nope, nothing."

Stryker crossed his arms and examined his friend. He could see straight through the fake smile plastered heavily on his face; his eyes were what gave it away, dark and jittery as they flitted about, trying to lie to him.

"'Kay, if you say so," he decided to say. No use making him worse by asking, I suppose. "Wanna help me with the blankets?"

"Sure," Jack sighed, glad to dodge the subject.

He felt a pang of guilt though a moment later. No one had ever really asked if he was okay; M. Fung had just known when he'd asked about the nightmares he was having, and he knew none of the monks or the Heylin cared. He was looking at the only person who seemed to, and he'd just brushed him off.

"Uh, we uh..." Jack stammered, trying to clear the lump from his throat.

Stryker looked up from adjusting the blanket and saw that same distress in his eyes. He stood.

"We t-talked about this dream I have every night," Jack started quickly. "It's really weird, but I don't really know what it means. The monks came across it once and I, I guess they found it pretty funny or something 'cause they've mentioned it a lot lately..."

Stryker shook his head in disbelief, not liking these monks at all. Jack swallowed again and kept going, looking at the wall next to Stryker.

"I-I start off and I'm about twelve, and I don't know where I am. And then for some reason I'm in the toilet bowl or something getting...flushed...and...and..."

He cut himself off, knowing at any point Stryker would laugh just like everyone else did. He felt stupid just talking about it.

"And?"

Jack's eyes shot to Stryker's, and found not even an ounce of humor in them. They held nothing but concern.

"And?" he asked again. "What happens next?"

Jack stood agape for a moment longer, then slowly came back.

"And um," he started slowly. "And I'm sixteen again. And I'm...standing over someone..."

His eyes fell to the floor, clouding over as his head filled with the image. Stryker took a tentative step towards him.

"And I...I..."

They locked eyes again as he whispered:

"Stryker...I think they're dead..."

"...Oh..." Stryker said; he shook his head at how lame that response was. "You know, uh, death in dreams rarely means...death..."

"But I'm pretty sure in this situation it means that," Jack said, still sounding far away.

They were silent for a moment, then Stryker's face twisted in anger.

"The monks made fun of you for that?" he growled.

Jack nodded slowly.

"They only saw the first part of it, though, they don't know the rest of it."

He thought for a second, then added:

"No one does, really...I've only told you."

Stryker looked at him in surprise.

"Well, I'll keep it secret," he said. "But, can you do me a favor, Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time I ask if you're okay, could you be honest with me?"

Jack met his eyes with a little shock.

"I mean, if you don't let someone know when you're feeling like...this, you're going to drive yourself crazy."

"Aren't I already there?" Jack joked.

"Not as much as you think," Stryker assured him, ruffling his hair. "Hey, we'd better go meet those flunks for dinner before we get scolded."

Jack grimaced as they headed that way.

"Couldn't we just eat in our room?" he groaned. "I'd rather not go through the whole 'awkward silence' scene tonight."

"Oh come on," Stryker said as they neared the dining room. "They won't act like that with Master Fung..."

The four young monks looked up from their food and shot them glares. M. Fung was nowhere to be seen.

"Let the awkward moments begin," Jack sighed.