~Tibi gratias ago tibi, mi Lector!~

                                                                           ~Quantum tibi laudis~

"Erik Travers?" The man said, tilting his head forward in a slight gesture that Lisa thought only a government operative or military person could do so well. His burning gaze shifted to Erik. Inside, Lisa breathed a sigh of mild relief.

"Oh. Right." Erik said, looking down at the seat of his wheelchair and then back up at his sister's confused gaze. "I gotta go see dad."

"Let me go. I want to see dad!" Lisa said, half rising out of bed, but struggling to even get into a sitting position. She was more tired than she thought, even though her mind was wide awake.

Erik laid a hand on her arm, looking at her. They're eyes were at the same height as one another's.

"I'll be back. You'll see dad when the doctor says you're ready." He started to turn away, both hands pushing the wheels on his chair in opposite directions.

"Erik?"

Lisa grabbed at the hem of her brother's parting long sleeve, stopping him in mid turn.

"I'm. . . I'm sorry for the things I said about you, I-"

"No, no. You were right." sighed Erik. Lisa saw his face fall into a somber expression. But he still looked her in the face as he said, "That's right. You heard me. You were right. I. . . I was selfish and a real jerk and a sure fire dirtbag and I'm the one who's sorry." Lisa smiled, shaking her head, but Erik shook his head just as stubbornly.

"Now you rest. I promise you and dad can see each other once you're both rested and not filled up with painkillers. So, just stay where you are. And try not to run off, 'kay?"

Lisa smiled so wide the corner edge of her lip bumped into the gauze pasted onto the left side of her face.

"Okay, you jerk."

"Hey," Erik began, and Lisa could see a spark of humor returning to her brother's once dull and vacant eyes. "You'll be okay. We're gonna be okay. You saved dad and he saved you. I have no idea what that was about or who in the heck that Jack character was, but we're alive and that's what matters right now."

A frown began to form on her brow, but her brother's next words washed it away. He leaned in and patted her on the shoulder-her good shoulder-and said,

"We're gonna take this one step at a time, alright?"

One step at a time. One pace at a time.

"You may want to take leaps and bounds right now-and I can see it in your eyes-don't deny it. But right now, I need you to rest. The adventure is over. It's time to rest." And with that, Erik gave one last, long look at her sister, at her crimson eye, at the patch of gauze where a third degree scar burn would soon be and smiled. Lisa smiled. She watched him wheel around and out of her room, his words echoing inside her already sleep filled mind.

One step at a time.

The adventure was over.

Erik was right. Even though she was worried sick about her father and whether or Jack would return, Lisa knew it was highly unlikely the man in the corduroy jacket would come back. He had blown his chance, and it would be very unlikely that he would try to kill Lisa's father in broad daylight. After all, this wasn't a TV program. But the other part did trouble Lisa. Her father. Was it possible that the experimental weapon he had snatched overseas was causing his violent outbursts? Everyone seemed to think that he was just another casualty of war; another patient suffering from PTSD in need of therapy and treatment.
But Lisa had before never seen this kind of traumatic stress, nor heard of fits of rage mixed in with hallucinations. Nothing felt right to Lisa. And she knew that wasn't a viable reason to think that something else besides a disorder was the cause of her father's strange-no, outright outlandish behavior. But Lisa could feel something, deep in her gut that made her think something else was going on. Something. Something the guy Jack had said, if that was even his real name.

Quantum particle theory.

Could that be it? Lisa didn't get very far in her deducing, because she felt the world tilt away from her again. The world became small in her vision, but expanded in a blur inside of her mind.

One step.

One pace.

One adventure at a time.