"That'll be fourteen dollars, please."

The woman behind the counter wore a cardigan. Its sleeves rolled up past her small wrists, freckled with the effects of time. She extended a wrinkled palm.

"I bet these are for someone special, aren't they?" Nodding at the vase of flowers on the counter, she smiled sweetly at Will. Softened by the film of a cloudy cataract, the 1 in her left pupil was otherwise resolute.

Not my time yet, it seemed to say.

"Yes, they are." Will smiled back, reaching into his pocket for the bills to place in her hand. Leaving the gift shop, he walked down a sunny hallway and waited for the elevator doors to open.

It felt like he'd just been here, visiting his dad after surgery. An image of his father, greyer and smaller than he'd ever seen him, flitted through his mind. Shaking his head slightly, Will dislodged the memory. His dad didn't have full strength back yet, but the number in his left pupil shone brighter every morning than it had the day before. He'd be fine, and that was all that mattered.

The elevator was empty. Pressing a button assigned to the fourth floor, Will glanced at the mirrored wall as the doors closed behind him.

The sight of his 2 still made him wince. Its edges were well defined, its color a deep burnished gold. It wasn't how his number looked, but what it represented that sent a slight chill up the back of his neck.

You'll get used to it. It was worth it. Stop overthinking, Will.

The doors shuddered open again and he broke eye contact with the glass. Squaring his shoulders, flowers firm in his grasp, he stepped into the mint-green corridor to search for room 431.

Each step was a flashback.

Skye.

Painted toes under pool water. Hands in Toby's fur. Nose in a book. Lips on his.

Neck snapped on the stair. Soul caught in ether. Spirit traveling in the dark. Eyes open again.

Will shivered. His right palm felt slick against the vase. Rearranging things, he wiped his clammy hand against his shorts. Taking a deep breath, his nostrils filled with the smell of the ward: antiseptic, with a slight hint of all the things cleaners tried to erase.

Scanning doors along the hallway, he soon reached Skye's room. Pausing for a second, he swiped at his hair before peering inside.

She was reading, of course. Dark hair fanned smooth against the pillow, figure clothed in a blue hospital gown, legs covered by a nubby, standard-issue blanket.

"Hey Stormy." His voice came out a little husky so he cleared his throat.

The book dropped softly in her lap.

"Will." Green eyes wide, her expression walked a fine line between happiness and the inexplicable. "I'm so glad you came. Come in!"

"I brought these for you." Leaving the doorway, he handed her the flowers. A warm glow spread up his arm when their fingers touched.

Smelling the bouquet, she smiled. "I love them. Thank you, Will. Could you put them on the ledge over there for me? They'll really brighten things up in here."

Setting the flowers down by the window, he pulled a chair over beside the bed.

"How are — ."

"Will, I —."

They spoke at the same time. Skye giggled nervously and Will shifted in his chair.

"You first," she said.

"Okay," he smiled tentatively. "How are you feeling, Skye? I mean, for real." His eyebrows knitted together as he scanned the gleaming 1 that floated in her dark pupil.

Strong, it whispered without making a sound.

She didn't answer right away. Her gaze seemed to catch on something just above his head, but when Will looked up nothing was there.

"I'm grateful." Her voice was soft and she shrugged slightly, like she wasn't sure what to make of her own feelings.

He blinked. It wasn't the response he was expecting. Easing back in the chair a little, he crossed his long legs at the ankles and waited for her to elaborate.

"I'm grateful to you, Will." She looked down at her hands, folding and unfolding them in her lap. "I remember what happened. I don't ... understand it, but I remember. And I'm afraid I'll sound crazy if I say it out loud. But ... I know you saved me. I know you did, Will."

Hands gripping the chair's arm rests, Will's lips pursed involuntarily. How much did she remember? And what could he say? He didn't know how to explain the unexplainable or walk her through an experience he didn't understand himself. The room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer than when he'd arrived.

"Skye — I ... I don't know what to tell you." He raked a hand though his dark hair. "There's a lot of stuff I'm trying to sort through." Covering his eyes with his hands, he took a breath as he wrestled with his thoughts.

Careful, Will. You want to drive her away? Maybe you don't have your shit together, but if you shut her out? Then what? You deny what happened and suggest she hallucinated the whole thing? Or, worse  — you let her think she's nuts? She said she remembers and she's grateful. For now, leave it at that.

"I'm sorry, Stormy." He let the breath out slowly. "You're not crazy. Well, no crazier than I am." His lips tugged into a lopsided smile. "Look, I don't understand what happened any more than you do. Maybe we'll never get an answer, you know? But if you're grateful, I'm grateful too, 'cause I don't want to lose you."

Grabbing his hand, Skye's 1 glowed, bright as steel, as she caught his eye. "You're not going to lose me, Will. You're the reason I'm still here."

He squeezed her fingers and changed the subject.

"So, how's your mom today?"

Skye shrugged. "She's sore. They got her up and going, but her leg hurts and she's frustrated. Don't get me wrong — she's thankful I'm okay — but she's turning herself in knots with misplaced guilt about Tom."

Shivering at the mention of Tom's name, Skye slipped her hand from Will's grip to pull her blanket up a little higher. "I just keep telling her, it's not her fault. No one could have predicted he'd go that far."

Will's pulse jumped. Was that true? The thought kept him up at night. Looking back, there'd been signs, but he hadn't known how to decipher them. Murky anxieties about Skye's future, unsettling visions in his dreams. If only he'd understood what the sight had been telling him, maybe he could have prevented it all, somehow.

"Honestly, we should be thankful. It could have gone so much worse. You saw him, Will. He was determined to hurt us. No one could have stopped him." Biting her lip, Skye's forehead creased with worry.

He reached out to smooth her hair and she leaned into his palm. Maybe she was right. Maybe nothing could have changed Tom's path or the wreckage that followed. But he couldn't allow mistakes of the past to dictate their future. As soon as his uncle came back from the city, Will was determined to learn as much about the sight as he could. The next time misfortune struck, he'd be ready.

"It's okay, Skye. It's over now." He gently rubbed her tear away with his thumb. "I've got you from here on out — I promise."

***

Finally! Chapter four's done! Took me a while to think through the emotions Will would have seeing Skye again, to catch a snippet of what their first in-person discussion would be and what path it will start to lead him down. Your thoughts and comments are helpful — what do you think? Thanks for reading!!!