Rooms A Thousand Years Wide

by Michele Bumbarger

Email: michele@alt-realities.net

Rating: PG

Summary: The memory had never been this poignant, this real, and this strong and it bothered me that tonight it was.

Pairing(s): Adam/Lisa implied (briefly; blink and you'll miss it) Ami/Other

Timeline: Two and half years before "Darkest Before Dawn" and five and half years after "The Living Stones."

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Adam Newman, Lisa Davis, Megabyte Damon, Kevin Wilson, Ami Jackson and Jade Weston are not mine. They are the property of Roger Damon Price, Thames/Tetra Television, and ITV. Rose Jackson, Benjamin Shannon, Marty Nuemiller, Phillip Hayes, Danae Hayes, Evelyn, Apple Blossom, Gideon, and Tony do all belong to me.

Author's Notes: Shameless dues ex machina plot device used to start the story and lay the background. I admit it, but sometimes even I'm not *that* creative. This is the prequel to "Darkest Before Dawn."

"He says it's a time machine."

I didn't want to move. I didn't want to lift my head from where it lay so comfortably propped on the softness that was Kevin's thigh. I just wanted to relax on the beach with my friends and enjoy the warmth of the sun shining down upon us.

University classes were out for the summer, my mother was off on a cruise with her fianceè, whom even if he was a bit on the odd side was at least a distraction that kept her from sniping at me and trying to drive a wedge between myself and Aunt Rose. She'd given up a few years ago with trying to stop me from being a Tomorrow Person, now she simply fixated on trying to stop me from developing my other "talents." She thought Aunt Rose was a bad influence, encouraging me down paths that I really shouldn't tread. Mum didn't really understand my other "gifts" or the fact that Aunt Rose's tutelage was keeping me sane. Like our early battles when I first became a Tomorrow Person, Mum simply didn't want to understand.

Sharon Jackson wanted a normal daughter. She should have known better. My father hadn't been normal, and I, Ami Jackson, was pretty far from normal as well.

Kevin forced me to push thoughts of my mother away when he shifted position and I was left with the option of resting my head on his kneecap, or sitting up and giving my full attention to Jade. I chose the latter because as always, Jade's enthusiasm was bubbling over infectiously into everyone else, and without a buffer to help me resist, I knew I was going to be hopelessly pulled along as well.

"And you believe him, Jade?" Lisa's words were soft, her tone soothing enough and not the least bit patronizing and therefore avoided ruffling Jade's feathers or dampening her enthusiasm. Not that Jade's enthusiasm was an easy thing to dampen once she got into a good tear.

Lisa had been back with us for six months. There had been no explanations and no apologies, not like when Kevin showed up hesitantly at the Ship after his three-year absence. Kevin had been shy of us, guarded, as if at any moment he expected to be turned away or have to fight for his right to be with us. Lisa had simply shown up, plopped down on the sand between Megabyte and Adam and informed them that she was back. Just as with Kevin, there had never been any question about accepting her. They were Tomorrow People; they belonged with us. It just took them a bit longer to figure it out.

Jade shrugged, "I don't know. It's not like I could tell just by looking at it. But Mr. McCready has invented some very interesting things in the past."

"If by interesting you mean pretty capable of blowing things up, then I guess you have a good point," Megabyte remarked. He had not done the courtesy of sitting up from his prone position and giving Jade his full attention. His face was hidden beneath a boonie cap and his words were slightly muffled.

"Megabyte, he's just a sweet old eccentric."

"Jade, you need a new hobby."

One thing about Megabyte, while his timing wasn't always the best, he often times said those things that needed to be said. And he said them very plainly so that there could be no mistaking his meaning. It was one of those things that used to drive me up a wall, especially in regard to Jade, but as I'd gotten older I realized that Megabyte simply wasn't the sort of person to candy-coat things. Also, as we'd all grown older, Jade was less and less insulted by Megabyte's bluntness and that was a good thing all around.

Jade rolled her eyes and pushed strands of long blonde away from her face. It wasn't the first time that Megabyte, or any of us really, had referred to Jade's interests in the eccentrics and lonely elders of her neighborhood as her "hobby" or her "strays." Not that it was a terrible thing what Jade did; her heart went out to those who had no one else, and she had acquired more substitute grandparents than we had living grandparents combined. She also acquired more heartache for each and every funeral that she ended up attending when one of her elderly friends passed on. "I really think that it's something we should check out."

Jade said 'we,' but she directed her gaze at Megabyte, whom for all intents and purposes we would have believed to be sleeping if he hadn't taken an active part in conversation, and Adam who lounged beside Lisa, their hands entwined.

Megabyte may not have seen the look Jade gave him, but he clearly felt it. He snatched the hat from his face and sat up, a scowl forming. "Why us?"

"Because Adam is the physics genius and you're . . . well, you're - " Jade's hand fluttered in Megabyte's direction as though she couldn't quite find the words. In all actuality, she probably just didn't want to give Megabyte a compliment.

"Genius?" Adam smirked. Laughter was in his voice, but the faint pink stain on his cheeks belied his embarrassment at Jade's pronouncement. "Knowing Mr. McCready, it is something to be checked out. You didn't need to lay on the flattery, Jade."

Jade batted her eyelashes playfully in his direction. "But, it always works so well!"

"And why exactly am I supposed to tag along with Adam?" Megabyte continued to scowl.

I helpfully supplied the answer that I knew that Jade's pride wouldn't allow her to, "Because you're the mechanical wizard Megabyte."

The glare took me in for a moment, and I met and returned it easily. "Yeah, well the last time Jade had us check on what the old coot was building, we nearly got gassed out of there."

Jade immediately came to the old gentleman's defense. "It was an accident, he wasn't trying to hurt anyone! And he's always so happy when you and Adam show up to see his work. He likes that he can still capture the interests of young scientists."

The attempt at flattery and soothing Megabyte's annoyance failed. The scowl deepened, a feat that I wouldn't have really thought possible. "The man was making vampire gas, Jade. Vampire gas!"

"So?" Jade's feigned innocence was almost too much. I had to bury my mouth in my hands and force a cough to avoid laughing. Someday, that girl was going to be either someone's dangerous nemesis or the star of the stage. I was sincerely hoping for the latter.

"Vampires don't breathe!"

"Come on, Megabyte, it'll only take a few minutes." Adam was already on his feet, dusting sand from his jeans. "And if Mr. McCready has made something that even remotely resembles a time machine or anything that could be misused, he really needs someone to talk him out of keeping it."

What no one said but everyone acknowledged was that if Mr. McCready couldn't be convinced not to sell his latest invention to the highest bidder, then it might have to accidentally be removed or broken. Adam and Megabyte had done it in the past when Mr. McCready created silver nitrate bombs that could easily kill entire packs of were-beasts in one heartbeat. Unfortunately, those notes went up in smoke and he'd never been able to duplicate his work. While we admittedly wouldn't have interfered had they been anti-vampire bombs, the shape-shifting weres were a different matter. They were alive; and despite all the Purist propaganda that said otherwise, they were also partly human.

Megabyte pushed himself to his feet just in time to find himself enveloped in a delighted hug and greeted with Jade's ear piercing shriek. "Thank you so much! And I really don't think it's a time machine, but I have a feeling it could be . . . not good."

"Whatever," Megabyte shrugged her off, his cheeks flaming bright pink. Jade had long ago gotten over her crush on Megabyte, yet her open demonstrations of affection still left him slightly off-center. Truth be told, anyone's demonstrations of affections seemed to leave Megabyte flustered and seeking a way to make a joke or simply ignore it. "Let's just go and get this over with."

I opened my mouth to wish them luck, but the words froze in my throat. The entire world ground to a screeching halt as everything around me quite literally darkened. It was as though the sun disappeared, and all of the color had been sucked from around us, my friends, the beach and everything bathed in complete and perfect darkness. Every hair on my body stood on end, an electric charge running from my head to my toes, and as I tried to draw a breath it was as though heavy iron chains were wound tightly across my chest.

But that wasn't the worse of it. The worse of it was Adam's face. Pale and skeletal, almost dead, eyes flashing between brown and red. It made me scream and scamper backwards on my rear.

The scream, rising from my throat like a banshee wail, shattered whatever spell had fallen over me. The beach was warm and inviting, the sun blasted us with steaming rays and glittered off the gold and white sand, making the blue ocean look like glittering jewels. The wind blew warmly across my arms and the palm trees swayed in a merry dance that sang of peacefulness.

And my friends stared at me like I had lost my mind. The truth of it was that was I wasn't sure that I hadn't.

Part 2

I awoke suddenly, the sensations of the beach sand and sun still clinging to me as I struggled to full wakefulness. It took a moment for me to center myself and place myself securely in my bedroom, nestled beneath tepid blankets and spooned up behind a warm, solid body. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness in the bedroom, the familiar shapes that made out my dresser and armoire and aligned themselves with the comfortable sounds of the sleeping world and the slumbering body beside me, I slowly let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding and worked to figure what woke me.

I knew immediately that it was neither supernatural nor preternatural. The room was too warm for that, and the familiar tingling along my nerve cells like millions of tiny cool fingers dancing under my skin was absent. As was the stifling pressure of awareness; besides, the dead weren't exactly polite when they tried to make themselves known. Still, I did a quick sweep of the room, reaching out with my spirit fingers as Aunt Rose had taught me and coming up empty. It was always best to check; the one time I hadn't checked, I came face to face with the specter of a teenage girl who'd used a sawed off shotgun to end her life. It wasn't any less ghastly on a ghost than it was on the real body.

Convinced that I was alone, I turned inward and the dream drifted back to me. The same dream I'd been having now for two weeks. Only it wasn't a dream. It was a memory; a memory that was five and half years old to be precise. That day at the beach, that visit to Mr. McCready's had been a huge turning point in all of our lives; and that memory was now haunting me. Usually I didn't start being haunted by memories until the anniversary. But the anniversary was six months away and the memory was there, waiting for me every night after I went to sleep.

Speaking of sleep, I knew I wasn't going to get anymore of tonight.

Carefully, I wiggled to free my arm from my boyfriend, Benjamin Shannon, without waking him.

"AJ, you 'kay?"

Or, my not so sleeping boyfriend and the only person in the world who called me AJ. Of course Ben more than likely had woken up when I woke up. He had his own set of preternatural senses that triggered alertness and awareness in him.

I gave his hand a squeeze and proceeded with my plan to free myself. "Just going to visit the loo, Ben. Go back to sleep."

He rolled over faster than I was expecting, reflexes still quicker than I could adjust to even after a year and a half long relationship, and caught my hand. His dark eyes caught mine and held my gaze, "There's really nothing -"

I cut him off with another squeeze to his hand and a shake of my head. "We are completely alone, Ben. Something woke me up, but I'm pretty sure it was an overfull bladder. Now, go back to sleep."

As Ben accepted that answer and rolled back over, I gave myself a mental kick of disgust. Problem was I didn't know what disgusted me more: that I hadn't even thought twice about lying to Ben or that I did it so convincingly that Ben didn't even doubt me.

Closing the bedroom door behind me, I made my way down the narrow hallway of my flat. Apartment, I corrected myself. Two years of living in the United States and I still hadn't fully adapted to the "lingo." Ben said that he found it endearing and charming, though, even if it did happen to annoy Megabyte to no end that I insisted on speaking the Queen's English even in the middle of downtown Cleveland.

I'm sure that the combination of adoration from Ben and annoyance from Megabyte is why I never worked overly hard to pick up American English.

I moved past the small bathroom, but reached inside and flipped the light switch. I switched on every light switch from the bedroom to the kitchen because even though I was alone with no one but Ben in the flat, the dream was lingering there, the images coming back when I blinked my eyes. The memory had never been this poignant, this real, and this strong and it bothered me that tonight it was.

In the kitchen, I put on the teakettle and set about measuring out tealeaves into the teapot. I didn't really give any conscious thoughts to my efforts or what I was doing until the tea was ready, the leaves steeped and I set the kitchen table with two cups of hot tea and a few tea biscuits that I picked up on one of my visits home to London solely for this purpose.

Frowning, I stood at the kitchen table, staring at the teacups and biscuits and wondering exactly who was going to be joining me. But, as long as they were alive, I really wasn't going to be that particular.

I came to the conclusion a long time ago that my life was one big cosmic joke. Of course, I didn't quite realize how much of a joke my life was until a few months after my nineteenth birthday, which just further demonstrates how much of the punch line my life and very existence were in the grand scheme of things.

Once upon a time I'd tried to convince myself that everything had been normal until I turned fourteen, but when I was being honest I knew that wasn't the truth. My life was never normal. It just so happened that when I broke out and became a Tomorrow Person, I had something even less normal than what I was used to so I acclimated and threw myself completely into being a Tomorrow Person. With the delusions that can only come from a teenage mind, I convinced myself that if I was a Tomorrow Person, it would cancel out all of the other oddities in my life and that I would be as close to normal as possible.

Being a Tomorrow Person, it was pretty easy to pretend that vampires and shape-shifters weren't really a part of my world. After all, we didn't interact with them; we didn't really meet them on the streets. Our psychic awareness seemed to guide us to avoiding those types of beings, and it worked out well for me. I could ignore vampires and were beasts; I could ignore the shadows I saw from the corners of my eyes, the voices that called me in strained whispers and the odd form that I saw floating across my bedroom that vanished when I rubbed my eyes.

Ignoring got to be a little harder when what you were trying to ignore was your paternal dead grandmother sitting up in her casket and drawing a deep breath. When there is chaos all around you, and you are the one closest to the casket and it's your hand holding onto the reanimated body, it's hard to ignore the other world, the preternatural world that existed just beneath the surface.

I was nineteen and weirdness of being a Tomorrow Person aside, I had just learned the hard way that I had "an affinity for the dead."

My father cursed my mother for keeping secrets from me, my mother cursed my father for passing on his family's "evil" traits and Aunt Rose, my father's black-sheep sister whom I barely knew, took me to her modest home in Cleveland, Ohio in the United States to help me control and use "my gifts."

Aunt Rose and I missed the second funeral and subsequent burial. Neither of us was very broken up about that. She never got on well with her mother, and I just didn't want to think about what I had inadvertently done by shoving a soul back into its dead, albeit well persevered body. I still get chills and bad dreams thinking about it some times.

Chills or not, I can't deny what I am, what Aunt Rose was, and what her father was before her. I am considered a necromancer, and this is where the cosmic irony comes in: I am a necromancer only in the sense that I have an affinity for and a connection to the dead; I can't raise a bloody thing over a few days dead. Being a Tomorrow Person added a unique twist to my skills and limitations. Tomorrow People can't kill; raising the dead requires blood, typically from the sacrifice of a chicken or goat. If I can't get the required amount of blood from a cut in the arm or the leg, then it's not going to happen.

Honestly, though, I'm really not too broken up about that.

Of course, I can communicate with lost souls, wandering souls, and shove souls back in their bodies. I can shove them into other bodies too. The last two are not pleasant, neither for me nor for the soul in question, so I try to avoid it whenever possible. And yes, as unpleasant as it sounds, it isn't always possible. Besides, some people just don't want to take me at my word that they are really, truly dead until they've walked a few steps in their own dead bodies. It's a foolproof way to stop a haunting, and to give me a serious case of what Jade refers to as the "heebie jeebies" for a few days.

My newly discovered talents gave my fellow Tomorrow People the "heebie jeebies" for a few months. These days, they are mostly over it. We follow those certain rules of etiquette: we do not discuss religion, politics, sex or any aspect or detail of Ami's work unless said subject is alive and kicking, and not through any extraordinary means on my part. But those early days were rough. That day at the beach was among the first where I was in control and all was right with the world.

Except, of course, that it wasn't. And I still didn't know enough about my abilities to decipher the warning about Adam when I got it.

The others try to convince me that it wouldn't have made a difference, that Adam would still have gone and we would still have lost him. That it was fate and destiny and that beating myself up wouldn't change things. My therapist, read shrink, said the same things.

To this day I didn't believe any of them.

Part 3

I was still staring at the two teacups and place settings when the air began to crackle with electrical energy, tiny charges that would be undetectable to anyone who wasn't telepathic or possessing otherworldly senses but which ultimately heralded a Tomorrow Person teleporting in. I heard the snap and pop of the final energy build up and turned to flash a half smile at him, indicating the table with a flick of my hand. "I made tea. Couldn't sleep either?"

A quick glance at my friend told me that sleep probably really hadn't been the issue for him. Kevin Wilson was dressed in a baggy pair of jeans and a somewhat rumpled sweatshirt that while not the height of fashion said that he had taken time to get dressed and not simply rolled out of bed due to whatever disturbing and misdirected waves of anxiety I was broadcasting from halfway around the world. He raked his fingers through his dark, wavy hair and gave me a half-smile and a shrug, "I was awake. I got the feeling that you couldn't sleep, however. And it looks like you were expecting me."

I shrugged. I followed my instincts so closely these days that there were times, like now, that I didn't realize I was following them. "I think that I was expecting someone. I didn't know whom. Glad I didn't wake you. I've been on edge ever since I woke up." I hugged myself and rubbed away the goose bumps that crawled up my arms as the memory images flared up in my mind's eye again.

Kevin crossed the kitchen and enveloped me in a tight, sympathetic hug. Comfort and understanding flowed from him into me and I leaned my head on his shoulder allowing myself to relax just a bit. At times like this it still struck me as funny that the six-foot one-inch frame that I now had to look up to had once been the one looking up at me. We stayed that way for a moment, chastely hugging each other, before Kevin gently brushed my mind with his own. [I think that I have a good idea of what the dream was that woke you.]

I took a breath. I pressed my forehead to his shoulder. I did not even allow my mind to wander anywhere near the images that he offered to share with me. [I was really hoping that I was the only one.] I didn't elaborate about how if it were only I having the memory dreams, I could chalk it up to a guilty conscience and side effects of work. [Besides, I thought you said you were awake.]

[I was. I still had the dream, though. It just happened to conveniently end when my alarm went off.]

Kevin's response left me doing a quick time zone check in my head. Sometimes I forgot that England had a five-hour jump on the Midwest over here. It was easy to get these things mixed up when you didn't have to rely on telephones for communication or airplanes for transatlantic transportation.

[Oh!] I jerked my head up and looked at him, stepping out of his embrace and the comfort he offered. "You have class, Kevin."

"Class will wait. I'm far enough ahead that it doesn't really matter if I miss one class." He slipped into one of the chairs with a teacup in front of it and reached for the sugar bowl, as though that settled the entire conversation. And if he thought that his graduate studies could take a backseat, then I wasn't going to try to argue. "Anyway, I think this is far more important."

I slipped into one of the other chairs, lifted my teaspoon to the teacup, but went no further than that. Now that I'd made the tea, I really didn't want it. I thought of several questions to ask Kevin, several ways to avoid getting to the crux of the situation but decided to simply get the pain over with. The best way to remove a bandage was simply to rip it off, right?

"You were dreaming about the day that Adam disappeared?" I asked softly. I added several teaspoons of sugar to the tea. It gave me something to do with my hands and an excuse to not look at Kevin.

"Yes. It's amazingly clear and strong, just like being there again. But you already knew that, didn't you?" Kevin waited. I didn't look up at him and I didn't answer. I added more sugar to the tea. In a few more minutes I was going to have a cup full of tea-flavored sugar.

Kevin continued to wait. The problem with trying to outwait Kevin is that it never works. Unlike the others to whom I was closest, Kevin had an endless font of patience. Megabyte would eventually get snappish and try to goad me into talking, Jade would get frustrated and begin having a one sided conversation with herself. Only Lisa rivaled Kevin in the waiting department, and even she would eventually resort to probing questions.

I took a sip of tea and forced myself not to grimace. It was too sweet. Finally, I set the cup down and folded my hands on the table. Forcing my eyes up to meet the soft blue ones of Kevin, I sighed. "I've been having them for two weeks. It's like living the experience all over again. I haven't mentioned it because I really hoped that I was the only one who was having them."

Kevin took a sip of tea. He sat back in the seat, cup cradled in his hands and watched me. Still waiting.

"Because," I continued, "if it were only me having the dreams, I knew that they couldn't be significant or mean anything."

"I've only had them the past week," Kevin nodded. He knew that he'd gotten a full confession out of me and now he was ready to move forward. "But you're right. I think the fact that we've both had it means something, and there's a pretty good chance that maybe Megabyte, Lisa and Jade are having them too. If they are . . ." He trailed off, taking another sip of tea. That was fine; he didn't have to finish his statement, I knew what he was trying to say.

But I had a question of my own. "How does yours end?"

Kevin blinked, unable to hide his surprise. It was good to know that I could still manage a little bit of unpredictability at times. "Huh?"

"How does your dream end? What wakes you up?" I leaned forward and licked my lips. "Remember how I had that vision on the beach that day? I never told anyone what it was until afterwards because I didn't even recognize it for what it was. In my dream, I always wake up after the vision."

"I didn't --" Kevin's gaze clouded, his concentration moving inwards. His eyes slid away from mine as he placed the cup on his table, forehead crinkling as he deepened his concentration. Then just as quickly his attention jerked back to mine, "That's not in my dream. I didn't even remember that you'd scared us all half to death until you just mentioned it.

"But that would make sense. The vision that you had, Ami, it wasn't integral to me that day. So, I forgot it." He reclaimed the cup and took several long swallows. "I always wake up after Adam, Megabyte and Jade teleport away."

And my dream-memory never gets that far. I never have to relive the moments of Jade's panicky telepathic shouts, of Megabyte's gunshot wound, of arriving just in time to discover Adam missing and McCready's basement created laboratory and "time machine" about to explode.

"That has to be significant, Kevin. Doesn't it?"

"Maybe," Kevin shrugged. "I don't know. The only way to find out is to talk to the others and find out if they are having the same dream. Find out the details of what they're dreaming, if they are."

"I hate it when you're so logical."

"No, you just hate it when I say things you already know because you're trying to avoid saying or thinking them." Kevin smirked and lifted the teacup to his mouth again. He's incredibly, boyishly cute and it's only that attribute that saves him from being on the receiving end of a smack to the head when he gets that smug, know-it-all smile on his face.

"Well, I'm not talking to Lisa." A frown replaced Kevin's smile the moment the words left my mouth. The waves of concern emanating from him made me wish that I hadn't said anything at all. I shook my finger at him. [Don't say a word. I'm fine.]

[But you don't want to talk to Lisa?]

"You do know that my company benefits include excellent mental care for all employees? I have a perfectly capable - therapist - that I've sworn to both Ben and Marty I will see regularly until we can all believe that there are no lasting ill effects." I knew there was an edge to my voice, but I didn't care. I got enough worry and lecture from Ben; from Marty as well, but as my employer, Marty was more concerned that I might have a breakdown and no longer be able to work at all.

"Ami, this isn't a joke. It's not something to be made light of. You were possessed -"

I pushed back from the table, loudly scraping my chair across the floor. I was not going to have this conversation with Kevin. So far, I had managed to avoid having it with any of my fellow Tomorrow People, filing it under the tab of 'things we don't talk about concerning Ami's job.' There was worry, and I understood that. It was wonderful to have such caring friends. But it also wasn't something that I wanted to rehash several times over. I had Ben for that because Ben was just far too protective that way. I also had Dr. Danning, who got paid an obscene amount of money to rehash it and make sure that I didn't suddenly develop a phobia towards the dead.

"More biscuits?"

"Ami -"

[I'm not talking about this, Kevin. Not.]

Kevin didn't stand. He put down the cup and folded his arms across his chest. Clear blue eyes focused on me and stayed there, locking and holding onto my gaze. I mimicked his actions, my own arms folded as I leaned against the counter and glared back at him.

"AJ, I thought I heard," Ben stepped into the kitchen and stopped, spotting Kevin seated at the table. At least I assumed that was the reason he stopped, but I only had him in my peripheral vision. I was too busy trying to outstare and out-stubborn Kevin. "Hello, Kevin."

"Ben." Kevin never took his eyes off me. I had to give him bonus points for that. Considering the level of tension between Kevin and I, it was actually pretty impressive that he didn't even give Ben a second glance. He didn't even seem concerned that Ben was present at all.

"Is there something going on that I should know about?" I saw Ben, coming closer to me. I could feel the energy crackling around him, a slow and steady build up of tension that came from his innate need to protect me and not any particular beliefs that Kevin was a threat.

"No." Kevin and I answered in sync.

For obvious reasons, Ben didn't believe us and held his ground. "If there's something dangerous going on, something that could hurt you, AJ -"

I forced my eyes away from Kevin. It didn't mean that he'd won, it just meant that I had to choose my battles. I turned to Ben and gave him a soft, slight smile, taking his hands in mine. "It's nothing like that, Ben, really. Kevin and I were just having a disagreement on how to approach a certain issue, but it's nothing that we can't work out."

Ben was less than convinced. I could see it in his coffee-dark eyes, in the way his gaze wavered back and forth between Kevin and me. He worried about me because of my work, he worried about me because I was a Tomorrow Person; Ben worried about me because he could worry and he wasn't going to stop just because I told him that he should. Despite that, he also knew when to step back. When it was 'Tomorrow People business,' Ben knew that he wouldn't always get a straight answer out of me and that sometimes it was just better if he didn't ask the question.

He didn't like it. He didn't like it anymore than I did keeping my nose out of his 'police business' and 'pack business,' but it was one of those uncomfortably necessary trades and compromises that we made within our relationship. After a year and a half, that compromise was working well for us, so there was no need to change it.

"All right, but one of you stop being so stubborn and wrap it up soon. I'm cold and lonely in there." Ben gave me his patented grin that brought out the dimples in his cheeks and made me tingle from my toes to my hairline. The parting kiss he gave me made me tingle in other places and by the time his back receded from my line of vision, I was ready to spill my guts to Kevin just so he would leave and I could go back to bed with Ben.

I know, it was totally and utterly pathetic that the man had that kind of effect on me. Somehow, Ben always managed to give a whole new meaning to the words 'animal attraction.' Pun fully intended; half the fun of dating a werewolf was being able to make puns about it.

"If I leave now, I can still make it to class," Kevin announced, rising. "I'll 'path you later, after you've gotten some sleep, all right?"

The words were friendly and devoid of anything that would have told an outsider that we'd been staring one another down only moments ago. But I knew better than that. Kevin wasn't going to let me off the hook that easily. Sometime during the past five years Kevin, when it became obvious that I wouldn't - possibly couldn't - reject the gifts and talents that Aunt Rose helped me to control and develop and would forever be tied to the underworld, had become my ally, my support and my confidante. He was one of the few Tomorrow People - and we'd more than doubled our number in the past five years - who understood and took any type of interest in the underworld. The others did their best to continue to ignore it and live outside of it.

I considered that both a blessing and a curse.

"We'll talk later," I agreed, although I really had no interest in holding that particular conversation. Ever.

I would just have to convince Kevin.

Part Four

What does a necromancer who can't raise the dead do for a living? They perform exorcisms, cleanse haunted houses, and hold conversations with the dead. I'm speaking of true to life conversations with dead people, not the séances that charlatans and magicians offer for a hefty sum, or the exploiters who hawk their wares on late night television. There is nothing flashy about what I do. Lights don't flicker on and off, ghostly figures do not float across the room while making whining and crying and moaning sounds. I see them just as I would any other person, and I talk to them. Sometimes it requires binding to a spot or an item, particularly if the ghost isn't feeling very communicative.

I also have a fair number of that classic "other duties as assigned." I can control zombies. That might sound like a no brainer, but occasionally someone who isn't licensed or trained raises up an old relative or lover and finds out that they can't control it. I'm called in to put the zombie back where it belongs, and I'm always amazed when the moron who tried to do such a thing manages to not wipe their brain or wreak worst havoc.

As well, I'm on retainer with the Cleveland Police Department for those times when someone with a little bit of underworld insight is needed in reference to preternatural crimes. That was how I met Detective Benjamin Shannon. Granted it wasn't much of a meeting. I and another spiritualist were trying very hard to convince the spirit of a werewolf that had been accidentally shot at the station, to move onward. Ben hung out in the background, a target for the spirit's anger, and praying that I and my co-worker wouldn't out him as a lycanthrope if the were spirit supplied too much information.

Eventually, amid many psychic barrages and upsets, the spirit left and I had a moment to reassure Ben that the rage was unjustified and misdirected; not being on duty when the shooting happened, he couldn't be held responsible even if it was a member of his pack. I also promised to keep his secret and he immediately thanked me by inviting me to dinner. Somehow I managed to say no to all six-feet three inches, solid muscle, curly dark hair, matching eyes and olive skin, courtesy of his mother's Latina heritage.

At the time, I couldn't have imagined dating him. I was still finding my place, accepting that I would be forever mired in the underworld unless I ignored and gave up my abilities completely. I was not ready to even entertain the idea of dating a were, particularly not the second in command alpha were of the Rurnkirk Clan. My life was complicated enough. But, our paths continued to cross, mostly courtesy of the Cleveland PD and Ben was persistent; the persistence is part of what makes him such a damn good detective. Eventually, I gave in because I had to be honest: dating opportunities for necromancers were pretty much limited to other necromancers or men who could handle underworldly knowledge; those men are few and far between. I agreed to one date with no promises. Benjamin promised to spoil me for all other men.

He did, and the rest is a year and a half of history.

Ben was off-duty today, so he dropped me off at work with a promise to drop by and take me out for lunch. I was less than enthusiastic about the offer because I really just hoped to close my office door and try to catch up on my sleep during my lunch hour. After all, once I went back to bed, Ben made relatively certain that I didn't get another wink of sleep before having to get up and drag myself into the office. One of the problems with having a boyfriend whom is more irresistible than chocolate.

I told him I would call.

I noted that I seemed to be sharpening my talent at agreeing to do things I never planned on following through with. First with Kevin, and now with Ben.

I worked for Martina Nuemiller, Marty, as she liked to be called, at a wonderful place called "Last Rites." It's an incredibly morbid and cheeky name for a business that does what we do because Marty has a rather morbid sense of humor. Marty considers the business and her employees family, and she takes good care of both. The business comes first, naturally, but still she does care more than a great many bosses and I consider myself lucky to have impressed her enough to be hired.

Marty is an old friend of Aunt Rose. Aunt Rose worked for Marty's father before he decided that he missed Marty's mother and passed on peacefully in his sleep one night. When Aunt Rose decided to retire, shortly after taking me under her wing, she promised Marty a trained replacement. The agreement was that Aunt Rose worked part-time, I worked part-time and finished college. When that was said and done, Aunt Rose got her pension and Marty got a fully trained and capable necromancer.

Aunt Rose neglected to mention that her niece couldn't kill a bloody thing.

It took a while, but eventually Marty realized that I could make a good contribution to the business. She expanded to include a repertoire beyond raising the dead, and I got the pleasure of becoming known as one of the few necromancers who could also romance a spirit back into the grave. The day Marty got wind of the soul thing, I swear I watched the woman have an orgasm at her desk. Four years later we still lock horns when someone wants a soul shoved into body.

I was hoping that today wasn't one of those days, but I had my doubts. When the first words out of Evelyn, the morning secretary's mouth happened to be, "Marty wanted to see you as soon as you got in," it didn't bode well for being able to close my door, lock myself in the office and just sleep.

I told Evelyn to check my calendar and see if I had some free time this afternoon. I wanted to see if I could grab a few minutes with Jade or Megabyte, and that meant out of office time. The nice thing about Evelyn was that she didn't ask twenty questions. She simply complied with the request. By the time I had dropped my purse off at my desk, checked my email, which included one spicy little love note from Ben, and gotten a cup of coffee, Evelyn had my answer. I was free after two o' clock. It worked for me.

Marty sat in her office conversing quietly with whom I had to assume were clients she was setting up to work with me. As was my habit, I checked out my clients as quickly as I could before Marty pulled me into the interview process. They were an older man, probably in his mid to late fifties, dark hair graying at the temples and dusted throughout. Beside him sat a teenaged girl, sixteen if she was a day, her dark hair streaked with aqua and magenta. I felt a faint tug from her as our eyes met and I nudged a bit mentally. She blinked and nudged back, her eyes widening as her attention darted between Marty and me.

The girl was very close to breaking out and becoming a Tomorrow Person any day now. I could probably have pushed her right over the edge with a few more mental nudges, but that wasn't how things were done. She'd come to it in her own time; and she probably be happy that she met me first. I had to imagine that she wouldn't be that scared of what I did considering she sat here in the offices of Last Rites.

"Ah good, Ami, you're here." Marty acknowledged me with a nod and beckoned me further into the office. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Phillip Hayes and his daughter, Danae. Ami Jackson is our premiere, actually are only necromancer on staff whom also possesses amazing talents as a spiritualist."

I ignored Marty's compliments, as they weren't meant for me, but rather as a selling point for Mr. Hayes and his daughter. I shook both their hands, holding a moment longer than was probably necessary while I picked up and impressed on myself everything I could about the man and his daughter. Being a Tomorrow Person came in handy in my job sometimes; I could scan surface thoughts and receive initial impressions of a person. It helped me figure out how to approach each case. The system wasn't foolproof. Some people were naturally shielded and some were just very good at hiding and lying.

I got none of that from Mr. Hayes or Danae. These two people were miserable and desperate for the situation to be rectified. Whatever the situation was that brought them here.

I sat down and listened as Marty elaborated on what services Mr. Hayes and Danae wanted performed. Mostly, though I didn't listen very hard and simply studied Danae. I always ended up asking for the story again from clients. I liked to hear it fresh from them, and Marty's Cliff Notes versions didn't always cover all the bases.

"Mr. Hayes and Danae are being haunted by the spirit of the late Mrs. Hayes. They moved about six months ago, believing that the woman's ghost was tied to their home, but she followed them and has begun terrorizing them all over again."

Terrorizing? That got my attention. I glared across the desk at Marty. I had a problem with angry and vengeful ghosts and she knew it. It all stemmed back to the fun I'd had with a very vengeful spirit four months ago. The bugger had somehow gotten past all my wards and defenses, taken possession of my body and damn near tried to cast out me out of there. It was an attack equivalent to rape and it was the reason that I had taken two months off from work. It was the reason I was seeing Dr. Danning and it was the very thing that I had refused to talk about with Kevin.

Marty was one of the most capricious people that I knew. She could, when she so desired, be a force of nature with which to be reckoned. She had unbelievable energy and so much confidence that there were times when she made me feel dwarfed by her barely five-foot two frame when I had her by a good six inches. Other times, she was the picture of maternal concern, sympathy and innocence, simply wanting to heal and help. At this moment, she was the latter, seated behind her desk, her honey blonde hair pulled up in a neat little Victorian bun that complemented the dark, professional suit she wore. Green eyes blinked back at me with nothing but innocence.

I turned from Marty to Mr. Hayes. "Excuse me, but what exactly does Ms. Nuemiller mean when she says terrorizing?"

"She's . not happy, Miss Jackson." Mr. Hayes looked to his lap, wringing his hands together. "See, I'm going to be remarried soon, and Stella just isn't taking it well. She moves things around. She destroys things - "

"She's trying to kill my Dad."

I almost turned to Danae to acknowledge her words until I realized she hadn't spoken out loud and that her father was still speaking. She chewed on a turquoise painted nail, looking sullen and miserable, dark eyes haunted. Obviously the stress of whatever was happening at her home was pushing her closer and closer to the edge of breaking out. It was just too bad that the stress had to be her mother's restless, undead spirit.

"Mr. Hayes, if we're going to help you, I'm going to need you to be completely honest," I interrupted. I kept my voice calm and neutral, I projected caring and compassion into their minds. Not all non-telepaths were receptive to empathic vibrations, but it never hurt to try. "Tell me what you meant when you told Ms. Nuemiller that your wife, Stella?" At his nod, I continued, "That Stella is terrorizing you."

"She's like a poltergeist. She breaks things. She throws things. The stove caught on fire."

I waited. He said nothing more and was looking at his lap again. This was like pulling teeth and I didn't have Kevin's patience at times like this. "Mr. Hayes, please. I know this is difficult, but you're not helping either of us if you're not honest."

"She's trying to kill him." This time, Danae did say the words aloud. Her father's head jerked up and he glanced at his daughter as though she had just declared herself to be a vampire's consort.

"She's not - Ms. Nuemiller, Ms. Jackson, she's - Danae gets carried away -"

"I do not! God, Dad, why can't you just be honest about it! You heard them. They can't help us if you aren't honest and that means she won't ever go away. And I can't have you die too!" The words burst explosively from Danae, by the time her tirade was finished, she stood shaking and trembling. Then as if that short burst took away all her energy, she sagged back in her chair, drew he legs up to her chest and began sobbing.

Marty handed her a box of tissues and we excused ourselves to give father and daughter a little time alone.

"I know what you're going to say, Ami," Marty announced without preamble once we were away from her office.

I glared at her. "You have no idea what I'm going to say, Marty."

"You heard their story. You saw that girl. How can you possibly say no?"

"Because I don't do vengeful ghosts. You know this, Marty. We've talked about it. I can't afford to take that much of a risk. Not even for you." Maybe for Danae, but not for Marty. There was no way to explain that to Marty, not that I would have anyway. She was too much a predator that made her an excellent businesswoman. If she saw a weakness, Marty would exploit it for all it was worth.

"What happened was terrible, Ami, I admit that." Marty took my hands in her, oozing sympathy. All right, telepathically I could tell she had slightly more effort towards convincing me than she did sympathy with my plight, but the sympathy was there. "But it's pretty much believed that it was a fluke. That ghost was a necromancer, we didn't know that. I've already checked with Mr. Hayes. Stella Hayes had no necromantic or spiritualistic ability."

"I can't go into a situation like that without backup, Marty. I won't."

"I've already looked into Apple Blossom's availability."

"No. No bloody way. Not if she was the last anchor on the planet. No." Apple Blossom, and yes, that was her real name, was a Wiccan, new-agey medium type. However, she was a true spiritualist, even if I could sense more spirits by walking into a room than she could by summoning them. But she did have an affinity for earth magic, and that made her a good anchor.

Apple Blossom was also the biggest flake on the planet.

"Ami, I know you better than that. What would Rose say? You can't want to turn this family down, can you?"

I hated it when Marty played the sympathy card and then trumped it with the guilt card by using Aunt Rose against me. I still would have argued with her longer, solely on general purpose, but I was running on three hours of sleep. It didn't make for very long lasting or coherent arguments. "Fine. I'll do it. But get me someone other than Apple Blossom."

I turned and started walking back towards Marty's office. Hopefully, Mr. Hayes would be more forthcoming once he knew that Last Rites was committed to taking his case.

Part Five

After agreeing to help Mr. Hayes and his daughter, and being thanked with hugs and tears, the rest of the morning moved along smoothly. I talked to a few more prospective clients, boldly turned down the offer of an obscene amount of cash to capture the soul of a beloved Pekingese and shove it back in the body, and managed to beg off lunch with Ben long enough for me to prop my feet up and catch a half an hour nap in the privacy of my locked office. Therefore, two-thirty found me in the coffee shop located on the ground floor of the office building where Megabyte worked, sipping a mocha java.

"From the sound of things, this isn't a social call, is it?" Megabyte asked after we made the prerequisite small talk. "You know I'm really missing the good old days when we could just sit around and shoot the breeze, Ami."

"You so can not play the guilt card on me today, Megabyte. Marty already beat you to it, and I'm only good for suckering that way once a day."

"Well, what am I supposed to say? You never call, you never write."

I giggled despite myself and the levity of the conversation I was about to launch into. "Don't you ever grow up?"

"Grow up, yes. Stop making my friends laugh? No. Never." Megabyte had an Americano that he took several long swallows of. He leaned back and tilted his head thoughtfully, "So, lay it on me. What's so desperately dangerous and/or horribly obscene that it warranted taking time out in the middle of the day to talk about it? It's not Ben, is it? Trouble in paradise?"

Megabyte accepted Ben, grudgingly. It wasn't that he didn't like lycanthropes; he admitted that they couldn't possibly be the monsters that The Purists and The League of Human Advocates made them out to be. Lycanthrope was a disease, or in some very rare cases, a curse. It wasn't supposed to cost you your job or reputation, although it often times did, hence the reason that weres were so very careful to not be brought out. Lycanthrope was nowhere near as horrible as being a vampire, one of the blood sucking undead.

No, Megabyte's problem with Ben stemmed from Ben. Megabyte felt the need to pay the protective big brother, and he was convinced that there was no way that Ben wouldn't end up hurting me. Even though I was a part of the underworld, I wasn't a part of it in the way that Ben was and eventually that would come back to hurt us.

He was allowed his opinion. Megabyte once dated a lycanthrope, a were-leopard by the name of Celia. She left him for a pack mate because as she told him, "We'll never really be part of the same world."

"No, everything is fine with Ben. Thank you for asking." I flexed my hands around the coffee cup, enjoying the warmth emanating from there. I stared at the ripples moving across the surface of the cup as I slowly rotated it in my hands, mostly to avoid looking at Megabyte. "This is about . . . Adam."

I felt him stiffen and I already knew what the answer to my query would be.

"What about Adam?" Megabyte was guarded, a wall going up around him and cutting him off completely. He was always guarded when it came to Adam. Five years later, and we still had only the sketchiest details of what happened when he, Adam and Jade went to Mr. McCready's house. Megabyte was tight-lipped about things, and even Kevin and Lisa had never managed to get more than the faintest of details from him.

"Have you been having dreams about him? About what happened the day he disappeared?"

"Why?"

I looked up, just in time to see Megabyte avert his eyes, staring out across the coffee shop. Setting down my coffee cup, I reached out and took his wrists, giving a tender squeeze. [Don't shut me out, Megabyte. You're not the only one having these dreams. Kevin and I have been having them too.]

[I kind of figured that when you asked.] He turned back to look at me and loosened his grip on his cup. Megabyte maneuvered his hands so that they held mine. "What's going on?"

I shook my head, hating to admit it, but knowing there was no other way. "We don't know yet. We haven't really had time to figure it out. I've been dreaming for two weeks, Kevin only for about a week. How long have you --"

"Four very long sleepless nights."

"Maybe it means we're finally going to find out what happened to him. Maybe he's going to come back to us."

"No." Megabyte snapped the word off bitterly, then closed his eyes and shook his head. I waited, buffeting against the sadness and frustration coming off of him, countering with as much calm as I could. It took a few moments, but when he opened his eyes and looked at me, his blue eyes were clouded with sadness, but no anger or bitterness. [You know he's not coming back to us, Ami.]

It wasn't something we talked about. It was actually something that we made a point of not talking about. We said that Adam disappeared, but it was a euphemism. We each knew, somehow, someway with some innate knowledge that couldn't be put into words but lurked deep down inside of us that Adam was dead. It hurt to even think it, but it was the truth.

"I don't know what it means, Megabyte. I wish I did," I apologized. I could ask Aunt Rose, but I was hoping that I wouldn't have to. I had been hoping that the others weren't having the dream, but it seemed that hope had been shot to hell.

[It's not your fault,] Megabyte told me, and I knew that it was both in response to what I was saying and the guilt that still gnawed at me five years later.

I nodded. I didn't dare try to answer because I didn't believe it one little bit.

"Have Jade and Lisa --" Megabyte stopped, letting the question hang.

"You're the first person I've spoken to. We were going to talk to them as well today."

"Then we'll all talk later, I guess."

"Yes, we'll do that."

We hugged good-bye, both of us needing the physical support and comfort that those hugs offered and with an unspoken agreement to meet up with everyone later on, I returned to Cleveland and the offices of Last Rites.

Evelyn greeted me with more words that I was loathe to hear, "You have an eight o' clock."

I stopped halfway between her desk and my office. "My schedule is clear."

"Your schedule was clear. Marty scheduled an eight o' clock for the two of you. Big rush client, didn't want to wait until tomorrow. I was just about to page you."

I called Marty a few not so nice names that would never bear repeating in public company, and stomped off to my office like a disappointed child. Truth was, I was disappointed. Something odd was going on in the world beyond Last Rites, something having to do with The Tomorrow People and it looked like Marty had just arranged for me to miss most of the evening powwow with my friends.

In the solitude of my office, I touched base quickly with Kevin and Megabyte, explained that Marty was shanghaiing me once again and promised that I would be at the Ship as soon as it was feasible. I called Ben, told him to have dinner without me because I knew if I went home I'd be massively tempted to call back into the office and play dead. I actually spent a full twenty minutes debating doing so anyway.

As always, in the end my work ethic finally won out. I ordered Chinese from a local restaurant that delivered and got started on going over my notes for the Hayes case. I wouldn't have a full assessment of the situation until I paid a visit to their home and felt Stella's energy, but preliminary impressions were always important. Following standard operation procedures, I had full interviews and information about the Hayes family, including their two cats, three angelfish, and Mr. Hayes' fianceè, Rebecca.

Rebecca was at least half his age, and when I pulled out her picture, I didn't really blame Mrs. Hayes for being a bit put out about it. Flaxen blonde hair, big blue eyes and a sweater that barely held in her oversize bosom all screamed 'gold digger' to me. I made a note to interview Rebecca, just in case. Sometimes, the dead knew more than the living and they got desperate to make their loved ones see it. Hating Rebecca didn't seem like justification for the slashed car tires, or locking Danae in her bedroom while knives and forks flung themselves at Mr. Hayes, but I didn't like to leave any stone unturned.

It was nearly eight o' clock by the time I finished with the Hayes file and two others. Happy that I had at least accomplished something, I headed to Marty's office. Evelyn was long gone and in her place was Sandra, our night secretary. Sandra's red head leaned over one of her college text books, glasses sliding down her nose only to be pushed up by a fingertip. She took a drink from the Coke can beside her, bit into her candy bar, and never stopped reading.

Sandra was majoring in Occultism. She had no magical talent, and none ran in her family. She had no lycanthropes in her family that she knew of, and the only vampires she saw were the ones that frequent some of the popular vampire nightstpots. If I'd had Sandra's luck, you never would have caught me majoring in Occultism, but to each his own.

"Marty's waiting for you," Sandra managed around another bite of candy.

"Thank you," I nodded and kept on my way.

Marty's door was partially open, so I nudged it a bit more and did my usual. The moment I let my senses flood the room though, I immediately had to resist the urge to back up and slam the door behind me. There were four people in Marty's office, but only one of them was alive.

Marty sat behind her desk, talking to the man -- no, not man, vampire -- seated across from her. She must have known it was a vampire because her gaze seemed to be focused somewhere in the vicinity of his left shoulder. On one side of the room stood the second vampire. He was tall and blonde and very Scandinavian looking with a thick neck and large shoulders. Ice blue eyes turned to me, grabbing and holding my gaze. His brow furrowed as he realized that holding my gaze had no effect on me. Yet another plus for being a necromancer and a Tomorrow Person; many necromancers and Tomorrow People had a bit of resistance to being held in thrall by a vampire's gaze. Many others didn't. The only way to find out was to put it to the test, and that was usually only done by accident. I didn't even know how strong my ability was, or how old a vampire would be before it worked on me. That was one test that I wasn't keen to try.

The Ahnold wanna be on the far wall had to be under one hundred, probably younger than fifty because I barely felt his attempt to slide into my mind. It was pin prick, nothing more.

I sized up the other vampire quickly, wanting to have my full concentration on the one sitting at Marty's desk when the time came. Ahnold screamed bodyguard, and once I saw the other one, I knew that was what he was as well. Shorter than Ahnold, with dark chocolate skin and piercing green eyes that were extremely out of place in that dark face, he was older than Ahnold. I felt his shove in my mind, but it was like swatting away a fly.

"Ami, come in," Marty stood and gestured me into the office. "I'd like you to meet Adam."

The vampire at the desk turned and I froze, rooted to the spot where I stood. I sucked in a breath and stifled the urge to cry out by throwing my hand to my mouth.

I knew what the dream memories meant now, because seated at Marty's desk was Adam Newman.

Part Six

I don't know how long I stood there, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to scream. I stared into a familiar set of brown eyes that I thought I would never see again. They were the same warm, familiar cozy brown and yet somehow they were older, harder and colder at the same time. Long mahogany hair was pulled back in the trademark ponytail and held in place by a faux silver clip. His suit was tailor made, and the deep red collarless shirt he wore beneath it was the finest silk and managed to make him look even paler than he was.

I felt him slide against my mind, and I pushed back snapping all my shields down for all they were worth. He was stronger than Ahnold and the other one, and he somehow felt older than them as well, but I knew that couldn't be. He blinked when I resisted, a momentary flash of surprise flickering across his face before he schooled it back into an unreadable mask.

"Ami?" I heard Marty's voice, but I couldn't find my own to answer her. I couldn't pull my eyes away from the figure of Adam, the figure that had once been Adam but was now no more than an undead shell. "I'm sorry, Adam, I wasn't expecting this particular reaction --"

"I assure you, it's not a problem, Ms. Nuemiller. I'm sure that you probably don't get many clients of my . . . status."

I wanted to scream at them both to shut up, to stop acting like this was normal, like anything in this room was normal. Yet, I couldn't do anything but stare at Adam. I would have liked to blame vampiric thrall on my paralyzation but I knew that was not the case. If anything, I could tell that Adam's attempt to move inside my head had been to make me deny knowledge of him, to make me not recognize him.

My defensive gift was suddenly a curse.

With a grace and ease that was both elegant and sensual at the same time and could only be preternatural, Adam rose from his seat and extended his hand to me. "Please, Ami, I may call you, Ami, correct? Please sit down."

My eyes darted from face to his hand and back again.

I couldn't do this. I could not do this.

"I'm going to be sick." I regained control of my body, spun on my heel and fled Marty's office like the devil himself was after me. In a way, I think that he was. I heard Marty call out behind me, I heard Sandra give a startled yelp, but I didn't stop.

I managed to reach the restroom and fling myself down to the floor in front of the commode before my dinner came back to boldly revisit me. I broke then, shaking and crying, shivering and throwing up. Everything that I had held in for five years, every bit of hope I'd ever had shattered inside of me, leaving me empty and cold. I threw up until there was nothing left and cried until my ribs hurt and I was hiccupping painfully. I rested my cheek against the coolness of the commode, and tightened my shields against the gentle probing of the other Tomorrow People.

Marty came and left several times, and I ignored her each and every time. Fleeing your boss's office to throw up and have a nervous break down didn't add up to the height of professionalism, but at this point in time, I really didn't care. I wanted this to be a horrible bad nightmare that I would awaken from, but try as I could to pinch myself awake, it didn't work.

Locked in a timeless void, I finally stood on shaky legs and let myself out of the stall. I half stumbled and half-limped to the bathroom sink where I rinsed my face and mouth and avoided looking at myself in the mirror. The trek back to my office was slow as my breakdown had taken everything out of me. I ignored Sandra and whatever message from Marty she tried to give me. I was going to go get my things and I was going home. I was going to curl up in Ben's arms and just hide for a few days and if Marty didn't like it she could fire me for all I cared.

Closing my office door behind me, I rested against it, letting the coolness of the wood press into my forehead.

"I'm sorry for the unscheduled appearance. I really didn't mean to shock you so terribly."

I spun, pressing myself against the door as tightly as I could. My eyes immediately darted to the four empty corners before coming to rest on Adam who sat quietly behind my desk, flipping through the pictures in my flip photo frame. "What are you doing in here?" I could hear the note of hysteria in my voice, and I wasn't ashamed of it.

I was hysterical or pretty bloody close to it.

"Gideon and Tony are waiting for me downstairs," Adam responded, not answering the question I asked, but telling me where his bulging muscle bodyguards were. It only made me feel marginally better to know that they weren't lurking outside of my office. "I thought that they would probably do more harm than good. They can be a bit imposing at times."

"This isn't happening." I shook my head and tried to meld into the wood finish on the door. I failed miserably.

Adam smiled at one of the pictures, and it would have been Adam's smile if the hint of fang hadn't shown through. He looked up at me and indicated the office that I had decorated with pictures and collectible wolf figures and stuffed toys. It was a Ben thing. "I like how you've personalized the space and made it yours. This room really says Ami Jackson."

"What are you doing here?" I repeated with a bit more control this time. I knew there was a reason that I didn't like vampires and it went beyond the fact that they were the walking dead, or undead as it were. They had this arrogance that said they thought they were better than us mere mortals, and that we should all be servants to them. They were also rude and infuriating.

"I really didn't think that this would be such an upset to you, Ami -"

I blinked. This had gone from nightmare to situation comedy. "What?!" The demand came out louder than I intended and another one of those ripples of surprise flashed across his face briefly.

"I didn't intend to upset you so much. Really."

"Because waltzing in here as a bloody vampire after being dead and gone for five years wasn't going to upset me the least little bit?" The fear and the upset were fading fast, slowly being replaced by something much more akin to anger due to the all too cavalier attitude that Adam seemed to have about his unwanted presence here.

"I didn't intend for you to recognize me, but I unfortunately discovered that the rumors are true. Evidently teleporters are immune to a vampire's gaze."

"Tomorrow People," I corrected him instantly and then felt my stomach go queasy again. His choice of words reminded me that he wasn't Adam Newman, not anymore. Only the public referred to us as teleporters; privately, we were The Tomorrow People. "You were one --" I stopped and hugged myself. I couldn't get any closer to the door and while I might talk to Adam, I wasn't going to get any closer to him either.

"I was one. Once. That was a long time ago, Aims."

"Don't. Don't ever. You can't call me that." He couldn't call me that and no one ever called me that after he -- I could stare at his dead body standing in front of me but I still had trouble referring to what happened five years ago as Adam dying. It was the reason that Ben called me AJ; I'd practically ripped his head off the first time he dared try to call me Aims.

"Then what should I call you?"

"Nothing. Never. Ever. In fact, you can leave."

"I would, but you see there are a few problems with me doing that." Adam stood and pushed away from my desk, walking around to the front and leaning on it. He folded his arms across his chest and pretended to be as harmless as possible. He was a vampire. I knew better. "One, you're blocking the only exit from this room, and you're not exactly calm and rational right now. I have to worry that you might try pull a stake out of the air and try something if I get too close to you."

"You know I can't and it's illegal." Yes, Aunt Rose had to live and train me and get me a job in the glorious United States of America where vampirism was legal and killing one was tantamount to murder. Yet lycanthropes could still lose their jobs for having a once-a-month full moon problem.

"Two," Adam continued as though I hadn't spoken. "I haven't concluded my business with this office yet."

I slid along the wall, away from the door and still kept my distance from Adam. "One problem solved. The other, I'm afraid I can't help you with. You'll just have to take it up with Marty."

"I already did. She assured me that no one here at Last Rites is more suited to the job than you are, and I told her that I would take it up with you personally."

"All right, easy enough." I straightened up a bit and defiantly held his gaze. "No, I won't take your case. Now get out."

"Ami, Ami," Adam shook his head, chuckling softly. It was an unsettling sound, not entirely unpleasant but rather warm and intoxicating, sliding across my skin like silken sheets and soft fingertips. It was most distinctly not the laugh that Adam once had. "Whatever happened to you? I think that you've gotten rather crass living in the States. You used to be such a proper British lady."

"And you used to be alive, what of it?"

"Touché." Adam crossed his legs at the ankles, somehow managing to make the slouch against my desk look boneless. "Ms. Nuemiller has already accepted my case. Wouldn't you at least like to hear the details?"

"No."

Again, he continued speaking to me as though I hadn't said a word. "I own a dinner theatre, The Round Table, down in the Warehouse District. It has a bit of a haunting problem. Always has, actually, but the former proprietor didn't see any reason to lay the poor souls to rest."

"And you do?" I wondered why I was encouraging him after I asked the question.

"I'm trying to run a business, Ami. Maybe the former owner didn't mind losing cooks and wait staff every week, but I do. I want the place cleansed and the restless spirits put to rest. That's all."

It was a logical request, and really no different from any other requests. Except for the fact that it came from a vampire that had once been one of my best friends. Of course, I couldn't tell Marty that, and I couldn't really provide her with any good reason to turn down the job.

"I can see how this might be a bit uncomfortable for both of us." In a true demonstration of what he was, Adam was standing in front of me before I even registered his movement. We stood practically toe-to-toe, my head tilting up suddenly to adjust to the slight height difference as I let out a strangled yelp.

Adam tucked a business card in the pocket of my blouse. "It's all purely business, Ami. Why don't you sleep on it and call me. I'm sure that you, Ms. Nuemiller and I can work something out." He leaned forward and I scrambled deeper into the corner although there was nowhere to go. There was no such thing as personal space left between us and my heart beat so quickly in my chest that I thought it would explode. Adam lowered his head, his voice very soft in my ear, "Give the others my love, won't you?"

Then I felt the soft, cool brush of lips against my temple before Adam was gone, the door to my office swinging and clicking slowly shut behind him.

I slumped to the floor in the corner and didn't move from there for a very long time.

*** End of Rooms A Thousand Years Wide ***