It seemed like a dream sequence; like she was floating through a thick haze. The thick air seemed to come, not from reality, but of somewhere in-between the state of dreaming and awareness that you are dreaming. Beth seemed to be standing on a precipice that she needed to jump over in order to make the weight of terror and fear dissolve. Terror at the thought of losing him; fear of losing to that which defined her "gift". Hate. And all she needed to do was jump; she just had to talk to him, to make him see, if only she could muster the courage to do so.

She had been sitting in her car for ten minutes, staring at the house across the street from her. Self-doubt was her current demon. What if he didn't understand? What if he didn't listen? What if all her hope that she could change something was wasted? But somewhere, deep down inside her came the voice of reason. All she could do was try.

Reaching down, she brushed the now-familiar textured leather wallet with her fingertips.

No time, no sense of transition. In the beat of a heart, she was there, with him, in the very moment she wished to prevent.

The world was chaotic, spinning all around. Just hold on, please. Don't let go of my hand. Grasping senselessly to the outreached hand, squeezing so tightly, trying to fix everything though his touch.

There was panic, now, in the green eyes. Focusing on the eyes. Blood, there was blood everywhere, all over the fingers wound tightly around his. Ignore everything. The eyes. Look into the eyes.

The pain, which had been courageously withheld from sight, was evident in the eyes. The emerald colour told of volumes of burning agony. Panic rose again. What can I do? I need to help him.

The hand squeezed tighter. Forcing eyes to be blind to all but the green before them. Gazing numbly as time ticked away, precious moments, precious heartbeats.

And then it all stopped. Green faded, and the blind eyes could see again. The last breath was taken. After a small, shuddering gasp, all that was left was a tremoring aftershock that would change the shape and colour of the world around him.

Breathing quickly, Beth found herself squeezing the wallet in her hands. For now a question she had wondered all her life was answered. Why was he so different from all the other people? Why was her connections with him the defining light in her otherwise dark life? Now, her questions were answered. Now she knew.

After feeling that, she was too involved, beyond her original selfish reasons. For the first time, she had seen what had been in those green eyes. The light over them had reflected "their" reflection. She knew him. She knew him, the man who was so completely connected to her. She had met him. The owner of the wallet.

Forcing her limbs to move, she opened her creaking car door, and stepped into the warm sunshine.

* * * *

As he was informed of the visitor, Brian quickly ran to the door to meet her. Glad to recognise her as the woman who had served him in the unusual bookstore earlier in the week, he jogged up to meet her.

"Hello there! I'm so grateful for this," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. She looked startled at the outreached hand, then quickly handed him the wallet.

"Anytime, Mr. Littrell," she said simply. There was something in her haunting amber eyes that to him, seemed much more nervous than one should when returning a wallet. He frowned slightly.

"Thanks again, it's good to know that there are real honest people in the world," he said. She smiled, uncertain. He began to leave, when suddenly she reached for his arm.

"You don't know me, and this sounds really crazy right now, but you need to listen. The picture in your wallet, you with the four other men…the one with the green eyes and brown hair…I just…something is going to happen to him. Something bad. And soon. Please, talk to him, find out why he's been so upset lately. It's life or death," she pleaded to him. Disappointment filled Brian - he had encountered so many emotionally-unstable people, it was still disappointing to see it in someone so nice.

"Thanks again," he said uncertainly, walking away briskly.

"You don't believe me," she said, her voice full of sorrow. He ignored her, and kept walking until he was safely behind the door of his home.