CW: This chapter briefly describes a character injured in a car accident near the middle of the chapter.

I have him meet me in the treehouse after school. Because it's nothing less than symbolic at this point.

"What's this about?" he asks, more than once.

I don't satisfy him with an answer. Instead I sit quietly three feet in front of him, the table cloth spread out beneath us. It's warm this afternoon. In my hand I hold a piece of striped paper, each stripe a different color, the entire sheet color blocked from top to bottom, from margin to margin. We've been sitting in silence for a few moments now, and we continue to for another few moments. I know his attention deficiteness is kicking in when he starts drumming his fingertips on the wooden floorboards on either side of him.

I think of my mother.

Will she be proud of me? Will she be ashamed?

My lips form words before my brain instructs them to. "You asked me the other day who I was," I begin. His drumming ceases in anticipation of further explanation. "I've been thinking about that a lot. It upset me that I didn't have an answer." I open my eyes, and my hands have placed the map atop the old quilt between us. "And then Berthelot asked us again, and I still didn't have one."

I make eye contact with him, and my heartbeat anticipates what's to come, giving me another push.

Here goes nothing.

"Pick a color."

He looks down at the paper. "Is this supposed to be like one of those fortune tellers we made in middle school?" he asks. "Because it's supposed to be folded."

I don't say anything. I don't even look at him. My eyes are closed. If I can see any emotion on his face, I may lose my focus. I hear him sigh after a few seconds in resignation. "Red."

"Red," I repeat. My answer is a slow, calculated one. "Anger. Frustration," I say. "Sometimes passion, if it's the right shade. Pick another one."

"Green." This time he doesn't stall, and do I even hear a hint of amusement in his tone? It shouldn't anger me that he thinks this to be a game, when it only angers me that it isn't.

"Green. Envy. Jealousy." I inhale, and it is shaky. I hope he doesn't notice. But maybe he should. "Another."

"Uh. Purple."

"Lust," I say, opening my eyes. "The darker, the deeper."

"I-I don't understand," he stammers. He never stammers. I've made him uncomfortable. Good. The situation at hand is not one to be taken lightly.

"Again," I command.

"Aspen, just tell me what's going on."

"Again."

He huffs. "Blue."

Eyes closed again. "Which one? There's three."

"I dunno. Just blue."

"Alright. Light blue is calm, serene. Royal blue is confidence. Dark blue is sadness, loneliness."

He picks another without instruction. Finally catching on. "Orange."

"Curiosity."

"Yellow."

"Happiness."

"Pink."

"Magenta: annoyance. Carnation: hope."

The following few moments go by like this, him spitting colors and me spitting their corresponding emotions.

The very last one he calls out is the color gray. When I open my eyes, he is watching me intently.

"Confusion."

A beat passes. He doesn't ask for white. White is not a color. It is the presence of all color, but our eyes can only see one at a time.

"What is this, Aspen."

This is it, I warn myself. Once I say it, there's no taking it back. Am I making the right decision?

I feel two white auras within the enclosed space in which I sit. I push them both out of my head. White is not a color. I choose to march onward, my mind in step with the beat of my frantic heart. But before Eli can ask further and before I can explain further, our conversation is cut short by the frantic yell of his mother coming from down in the yard.

"Elijah?!"

He leans over to look out the small, single window that faces the house. "Ma?"

She yells up to us, her voice shrill and commanding. "Kei was in an accident! We have to go now!"

Kei was in an accident.

The next few minutes are a blur. Eli exits the treehouse and I follow behind him. Theresa rushes into the house and Eli rushes into the house and I follow behind them. I pull my keys from my back pocket. Theresa is already out the front door when I enter through the back door. Eli runs to the front door and I follow behind him. Theresa is already in the car; the car is already running; she is already in the street; the car is already facing the neighborhood's exit. I make towards my car, returning home being my full intention. Without saying a word, Eli takes my hand and leads me to the SUV. Without saying a word, I let him. We climb into the bucket seats, and Theresa drives away from the little house with the red door and a single oak tree out back.

"What happened?" Eli asks somewhere along the way to the hospital.

Theresa explains to him in small, concise tones that Kei was on her way home from the university when she thought she saw a homeless man in the road. He did not move out of the way, so, in a panic, she swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid hitting him. The driver of the other vehicle involved in the accident did not report seeing any homeless man.

I can't breathe.

I think I remember asking if Kei described the man's appearance, and I think that Theresa had told me no, and I think that Eli had looked at me wildly.

Some people prefer to sulk in their grief and let others who volunteer solve their problems when things go wrong. Some people push their anguish to the dark recesses of their minds, wearing an about-face, and take charge of the situation, not pausing to face their fears until everything in their power has already been done to calm them. Theresa is of the latter.

As for me, Eli holds my hand the whole way there to keep it from shaking while I sit atop the other.

Once we arrive at the ER, a lady at a desk tells us only immediate family members are allowed into Kei's room. Theresa does not stop to even acknoweldge the woman, but goes confidently through the double doors. I see Eli hesitate, but I assure him that it's fine and that I will be fine in the waiting room. He looks around, his eyes darting from one edge of the white-walled room to the other, and I know what — or whom — he is looking for. But I'm looking only at him. He puts his hands on the sides of my shoulders and bends over to place a kiss atop my forehead. "I'll be back," he promises.

I'm not sure how long I sit in the squeaky pleather chair for. Nobody pays any attention to me — the dark-haired girl in the corner with her eyes downcast and her knees pulled to her chest. I've been to the emergency room only once before, and somehow I was less panicked when it was concerning my own injury than now when it's concerning someone else's.

I wish I could say that I'd gone to the ER for Mom's injuries, but that would imply that there had been a possibility they could've saved her. When the medics arrived, there'd been nothing they, or anyone, could've done for her except clean her wounds and give us a body to bury.

However long I'm sat there for, it's long enough and the auras are smudged together enough for me to nod off. I'm awoken by Eli rubbing my shoulders and whispering to me. As soon as I regain consciousness, I look around me at the worried faces of adults, children sleeping in their laps, teens glued to their phones. And I remember.

I sit straight up and drop my legs to the floor. "How is she?"

He takes a seat next to me. "She's breathing on her own now. She's gonna be okay."

I don't remember bringing my hand up to clutch my chest. "Thank God."

Eli nods. "Yes, He was most definitely with her."

"Was it..." I begin, but my mouth is dry and I can't get the words to come.

"I don't know. She's still asleep."

"But what if—"

"I don't know."

I'm shaking my head. "It doesn't make any sense... Why would he target her? I mean, if he wanted to get to me..."

He finishes the thought for me, because I can't say it aloud myself. "Then why not target me."

I purse my lips. It is the only affirmative movement I can manage at this point.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, a motion I've only seen him make when he's stressed. Which isn't often. "Who's to say he hasn't tried?"

And then something occurs to me, something that I find more troubling than comforting. My ability doesn't work on Eli. What if Gray's doesn't either?

I have the sudden, irresistable urge to reguritate the words, transfer the weight off of my shoulders and onto his. I know he would carry it for me without a second thought. Does this further classify me into the group of the former?

"I can read minds."

Most definitely.

He looks as though he's misheard me, or he thinks he has. "What?"

I can't repeat myself, because Theresa is here.

"Alyssa," she says to me, confusion on her face and in her aura. "Do you mind?"

"Uh... ma'am?" I say, clearly forgetting that she dislikes the formality in the midst of my distress.

"She's awake, and she's only asking for you."

I feel my brows raise, and I swear that there's a hint of tannish insecurity in Theresa's aura.

"But they said only—"

"I talked to the nurse. She said it's okay."

I glance over at Eli for permission. He gives me a weak smile, but I can see the hesitance in it.

"I'll save your seat," he says.

I follow Theresa across the waiting room and through the big double doors. The ten-second elevator ride is a torture silent like no other. Into the hallway. Down the hall. Around a corner. Down another hall. We stop, and she reaches out to the doorknob of a room. My stomach knots.

When I enter the room, I am not prepared for the sight before me. Eli's sister looks like I did in my dream — lying in a bed and plugged up to machines via several wires and tubes — but ten times worse. Her face is all scratched and bruised, dry blood caking her forehead. Her eyes are nearly swollen shut. Her neck is held in place by a brace.

She opens her eyes when she hears me come near. I can make out no discernable expression on her face, but her aura conveys big, fat relief.

"Alyssa," she breathes.

"Yeah," I say, but my voice breaks. I clear my throat and try again. "Yeah, Kei, it's me. I'm here."

"You're okay."

If it wasn't so visibly obvious, I'd ask how hard she hit her head. "Yes, I'm okay. You were the one in the accident, remember?"

She closes her eyes. "But she looked just like you..."

I think I'm beginning to understand. Teenaged pale brunettes aren't so hard to come by. "Who, the other driver?"

She doesn't answer, and I think she might've fallen back asleep. I place a hand gingerly atop her arm. "Kei, did the person in the other car look like me?"

She shakes her head, or she tries to, anyway. "No. The person in the road. At first I thought it was a homeless person. Then I got closer. I was so sure it was you."

...At least, I thought I was beginning to understand. "It wasn't me," I assure her. "I'm fine, see?"

She opens her eyes to confirm my truth. "She just..." She swallows. "She looked so much like you."

"It wasn't me," I say again.

"I could've sworn..."

"It wasn't me, Kei. I'm fine."

"Yes. Thank God."

I repeat Eli's words because it feels like the right thing to say. "He was with you."

She agrees and then her eyes fall shut.

I all but fall into the plastic-coated sofa against the wall. There are only two possible explanations as to why Kei thought she saw me in the street: That it was a coincidence or that it wasn't.

Nothing in my life is ever coincidence.

Gray has only ever shown himself to others. Me, my father. But showing me to Kei, causing an accident? What kind of cruel goal could that possibly accomplish? Unless his new plan is to take out everyone I love, one by one, and then come for me lastly. I shiver at the thought.

The door opens then, and that's when I realize that Theresa hadn't followed me into the room. Could Kei have requested to speak with me alone? If so, there's no reason Theresa can't come and take my place now. I rise from my seat. But the person who walks through the door is not Theresa, nor is it anyone else I've ever met.

But I know him.

He stops short on his way to the bed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know the family had anyone else in here."

He's smaller in person than I'd pictured him to be. And his face houses a few more wrinkles. But his eyes. Soft, kind, and an incredible shade of olive. A shade that matches, to the T, his aura. My heart is racing.

Despite his anxiety, he reaches his hand out to greet me. "I'm—"

"Ian," I answer.

His brows dip and meet in the center. He retracts his hand. "Beg pardon?"

It's him. I'm certain. "You're Dr. Ian." However, maybe I had come on too strong. I nod toward Kei and try to make my voice sound innocent. "Kei's doctor?"

He looks down at the gold name tag pinned to his chest, and this is the first time I'm noticing it, as well. It reads DR. J. TALBOT-LILLEY.

"Huh," he huffs to himself. Looking back to me, he explains. "It's just that I haven't gone by the name Ian in several years. I go by my first name now. Joseph."

Aaaaand now how am I going to explain how I knew his formerly preferred middle name? The same way you found him in the first place, dummy. "I know. I Googled you when we first got here," I say easily. "Had to make sure you were qualified enough to take care of her."

He chuckles, his aura finally at ease. "You're a good sister."

"I'm not her sister."

He smiles and continues on to Kei to check her vitals. "Friend, then?"

"More like her brother's friend," I say even though I really don't have to explain. It's him who needs to do some explaining. He hasn't asked me to leave, so I retake my seat.

He answers me, his back to me. "You look a little young to be dating, no?"

"I'm ni—" Hold up. Back up. "Seventeen." I feel my face get hot. I cannot believe I'd almost let that slip.

He rounds to the other side of the bed, checking the liquid inside the clear plastic baggy that is hanging from a rod and flowing into her arm via a long tube. "I remember being seventeen once."

Did you know my mom when you were seventeen? I wonder. I suppose the only way to find out is to ask. "Did you know Delia Quinn?"

"Hm?" he asks, looking up at me briefly, his aura insignificant.

"Did you ever know a woman named Delia Quinn."

He pulls a little yellow notepad out of his shirt pocket and scribbles some things down into it. "I'm not sure. I treat a lot of patients every day. It's possible that I just don't remember her."

"She wasn't your patient."

"No?" Still scribbling.

If this guy knew my mother before she met my father, maybe I should try her maiden name... "How about Delia Brooks?"

The little yellow notepad drops to the floor and lands atop the linoleum with a pathetic thwack. Ian looks up at me slowly. His aura returns to its original olive. Whereas I thought my heart was racing before, I was very, very wrong. This is it racing.

He looks at me like he is just seeing me for the first time. He blinks. And then... "Aspen?"

I immediately stand to my feet. "How do you know that name?"

And then Theresa walks through the door.

"Alyssa, I just wanted to check on—" And then she sees Ian. "Oh. Dr. Talbot. How's she doing?"

Ian is still staring at me. I am still staring at Ian.

"Dr. Joseph was just explaining to me that Kei is going to make a one hundred percent, complete recovery," I challenge, raising a brow. "Right, Doc?"

He clears his throat, snapping back into focus. He turns to Theresa. "Absolutely, Mrs. Whitney."

She clutches her chest and exhales audibly. "Oh, thank God."

Ian replies, "He is with her."

I look around the room aimlessly, wracking my brain for anyway to get the mother to leave the room before the doctor can get away. I come up empty.

The doctor squats down and picks up his notepad. He scribbles something down quickly and rips the page out, folding it in half.

"Here's the name of that article I was telling you about," he says as he holds the paper out to me. "The one about how anesthesia affects the brain. So you can look it up."

I take the paper from him and wordlessly shove it in my back pocket.

Theresa eyes me curiously. "I didn't know you had an interest in medicine."

"I'm... juggling a few different options," I say noncommittally.

And then I high-tail it out of there.

As soon as I'm around the corner, I fish the paper from my pocket and open it as I walk to the elevator.

Let's speak in private.
37D

Back down in the waiting room, Eli is now the one who has nodded off, this being an optimal turn of events. On the ride down, I'd tried to come up with a reason why I needed to go to the fourth floor, but I, again, came up empty.

I text him that I'm taking a walk to clear my head so that he'll see it when he wakes up and not worry. I consider texting Dad, letting him know where I am. He only thinks that I'm at Eli's, and I decide that for now that's probably for the best.

I kiss Eli on the forehead. "I'll be back," I whisper. I take one step, and then a hand on my wrist stops me.

"Where are you going?"

He sits up and rubs his eyes. The last time I'd seen him up upon just waking up, we had been up in a tree and surrounded by pitch darkness. This is the first time I've actually seen his I just woke up face, and it is heart-melting. His semi-confused expression and squinting eyes due to his waking up on a waiting room chair to bright fluorescense paired with his slight pout due to me walking away from him is quite possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen.

"Uh, you were sleeping. So I was gonna go walk around."

"Oh," he says. He stands. "Well, I'll come with you."

"No, you stay and rest," I say, attempting to sound casual.

He takes my hand in his. "Don't be dumb."

He leads us to the elevator. When it arrives, it is empty. We are its only passengers. I press the button for the second floor, where Kei's room is. When the shiny metal doors close, allowing me to see my warped reflection, I take my cue.

"Eli, I need you to do something for me."

He agrees without hesitation, just like I knew he would. "Anything."

"I need you to go and sit with Kei and watch over her."

He squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Even if it was him, would he really be stupid enough to visit her in the hospital? That's almost as dumb as walking into the police station and handcuffing himself."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

The elevator comes to a halt at the second floor. It dings and the doors begin to open. I hurriedly press on the close doors button.

"I don't have time to explain right now," I say to his warped reflection, still two heads taller than mine. "But I promise I'll explain everything soon. Right now, I have to go meet someone."

"What!? No way. You saw what he did to my sister!" he cries, now suddenly a believer. "No way I'm letting you go alone."

"I think they might be able to give me some answers — about him — but they definitely won't if I'm not alone."

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

I turn to him, switching hands atop the button. "I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think it was safe. I need you to trust me. I need you to let me go."

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "Why do I feel like that's not the last time you're gonna say those words to me?"

"I'm just going up to the fourth floor," I assure him.

"Okay."

I release the button and the doors begin to open. Thankfully, there's no one in the hall waiting. He steps through the doors. I press the 4 button, and it lights up. As the doors are closing, Eli turns and speaks softly.

"Can you really read minds?"

I'm not sure if he sees me nodding my head before the elevator doors meet in the middle.

__________

I'm the worst person ever; I know. I haven't updated in two weeks. The original version of this chapter went a COMPLETELY different way, but as I was editing it... some other things kind of happened. And then I had to find a way to piece some things together. In fact, I'm still trying to find that way, two weeks later. I'll let you know when I figure it out. Along the way, if you find any inconsistencies, shout them out to me.

Liliana made me that Twitter header. Isn't it groovy?

P.S. I did make a color map for you guys, and my intention was to post it with this chapter. But it's on my laptop and I'm currently on mobile and if I wait then this update will be yet another day late. But I promise I'll post it with the next chapter. If Liliana doesn't make me anything cooler first.