Veritas – Part Two

Chapter Four: You Hold The Key To My Secret Heart

By Enola Jones and Madame

Sunlight streamed through the beaded curtain covering the window, and it wasn't the pale, cool light of early morning either, Isabel noted when she cracked her eyes open and peered out at her surroundings.

Since she didn't recognize any of the decorations or furniture, she assumed she wasn't in her bedroom at the new house...The warm body curled up next to her was also a clue. Mike lay on his side facing her, one arm tucked under his head and the other draped across her waist; his breathing was slow and even, and he didn't move when she shifted a bit to get a better look at him. Good, she thought with satisfaction, he needs the sleep.

His skin was bright red like he'd suffered a horrible sunburn, and it was peeling, but other than that, he appeared to be all right. She had no idea how he would feel once he woke up, but she felt about as lively as a wet noodle. Just as an experiment, she touched his cheek lightly, summoning her healing power to see if she could help the residual damage fade a little; a weak glow surrounded her hand, but it seemed to have no effect except to make her feel even more drained, which was odd, she thought, her brows snapping together in a puzzled frown. Usually if she had a nice long rest after a healing, she woke up feeling recharged, and while she didn't expect to be back to full strength so soon, she had expected to feel better than this!

Closing her eyes again, she checked her energy reserves—and abruptly discovered that there was an open channel between herself and Mike through which her power still flowed. Every little bit that had built up within her had immediately poured into him, allowing her to continue healing him even while she was unconscious and then later as she slept.

She followed the flow, reaching out to survey the results; she remembered enough about the healing to know she hadn't been entirely satisfied with the way she'd had to leave him, and she wanted to make sure he was completely out of danger before cutting off access. But the more she searched, the more pleased she was with the progress he'd made; he'd have to rest a lot for a few days, but he would be able to mend naturally from now on. Any help she gave would speed up his recovery, but it was no longer necessary.

Thank goodness, she thought with a mental sigh of relief. If anything had happened to him...She shivered at the thought of how close they'd come to losing him. I couldn't bear it...It's probably too soon, I'm probably going too fast, but God help me, I'm already so in love with this guy...

Good. Because this guy is already in love with you too.

Isabel's eyes flew open again, and she jerked upright, staring down at Mike, who was lying there sleepy-eyed but awake and watching her. "What—? Did you—? No, that's impossible—"

I heard you.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes growing wide with shock and alarm as she tried to digest the implications of his words.

You...you can hear my thoughts...?

Yep. Crystal clear. He regarded her with a calm, almost placid expression as if this weren't any big deal as far as he as concerned, as if suddenly waking up to realize they could read each other's minds was a commonplace experience not to be freaked out over as she was on the verge of doing.

HOW?!

He winced, grimacing at her as he raised one hand to his head. Ease up, will you? That hurts.

"Sorry," she said aloud, not trusting herself to maintain lower mental volumes when she was so unnerved. "How did this happen?"

You're asking ME? He raised one eyebrow at her, then released a long, slow sigh and rolled onto his back. Got no clue. All I know is I heard you, so I answered. Wasn't sure you'd actually hear. He closed his eyes as if he wanted to go back to sleep, and she could sense that he was still feeling weak and fatigued.

Curious, Isabel followed the channel between them again, exploring it more closely—and bit back a horrified gasp when she realized it had become more than a channel.

It had become a link.

She pressed shaking hands against her mouth, trying not to say or think anything that would alarm him as her mind raced to formulate an explanation. Memories flooded her brain, and she remembered how she'd used up her supply of healing energy, but his injuries were still too extensive for her to disengage; she'd refused to give up, refused to stop because she knew if she faltered, his life would be forfeit. Instead, she'd sent her own strength, her own life energy to bolster his.

That had to be the key. Somehow, that transfer of energy through the healing channel had bound them together on deeper levels, and now they were linked. But, she thought with guarded optimism, perhaps it was only temporary. Further examination revealed that he hadn't raised his shields against her; whether deliberately or unconsciously, he was allowing her free access—except to one small area which was completely shielded, taking the form of a tiny black space in his mind.

I can feel you crawlin around, he said at last. What's the verdict?

We're mentally linked, she answered grimly.

Linked?!

His eyes flew open and sought hers, but to her relief, she saw only amusement in the dark brown depths, and she could hear his mental laughter ringing out sweet and clear although outwardly he merely smiled.

Well, ain't that something, he drawled.

She gave him a puzzled frown, wondering why in the world he was taking this so calmly—actually laughing about it—but she was given no chance to follow through with any questions. Suddenly she heard two quick raps on the door, and then Peter opened the door and stuck his head in, smiling warmly at them both.

"Good morning," Peter greeted them cheerfully, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, resting a gentle hand on Mike's shoulder.

Isabel blinked and peered closer at Peter. His eyes were blue—but were those flecks of chocolate brown dancing in them? Or was she seeing things?

Suddenly, Mike's laughter flowed into her mind again as his gaze flicked back and forth between her and Peter, and she wondered what had set him off this time. He was such a reserved person on the outside; for her empathy to sense such depths of emotion lurking beneath the surface had been a surprise from the first time she'd met him, to say the least. And now that they were linked, she was surprised anew at just how easily he laughed—internally at least—and at how much of life seemed to amuse him.

Let's keep this under wraps a little while, okay? he sent to her.

Fine with me, she replied. It might only be temporary anyway, so there's no real need to alarm anyone else yet.

"I'm better," he said aloud.

"Good," Peter said, then turned to look at Isabel. "And you?"

"Exhausted," she replied. Little wonder, given exactly how much she'd poured into this healing; she had no idea how she looked, but she felt transparent and brittle as if she could dry up and blow away at any moment. Smiling wearily, she reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair off of Mike's forehead. It was almost long enough again to comb in the familiar wave over the left eye. "He's healing very nicely."

Thanks to you.

"I'm glad," Peter said. He looked at Mike, and the dark flecks appeared in his eyes again.

Isabel glanced down at Mike as well, and she saw blue flecks dance in his eyes as he nodded briefly—then they were dark brown again through and through. At Mike's nod, Peter gave one of those sunny, dimpled grins as the chocolate brown danced in his eyes before they faded to dark blue.

What in the world...? Mike's eye color in Peter's eyes and vice versa...A nod, a reaction...

Isabel suddenly gasped as it all clicked into place. "You—you're—"

Two intense gazes fell on her as they watched her, both visibly curious. "He's what, Isabel?" Peter prompted.

"Not he—both of you! You're—you're linked!" she cried, her hands flying to her cheeks as she stared at them, growing more distressed by the moment at this new revelation. "You're mentally linked—" —TOO! she added silently. Oh, now how was this mess going to turn out?!

Now you see why THIS wasn't a surprise, Mike chuckled. I'm used to it. Aloud, he merely smiled and said, "Yep."

"How did this happen?" she asked, trying to grasp all the implications. If she was linked to Mike, and he was linked to her and to Peter...Oh, she had enough of a headache as it was. She'd simply have to think about it later...

"About fourteen months ago, a madman tried to kill us with a second dose of radiation. The result was our mental link." Peter smiled. "I can send him words; he can only send me feelings and mental pictures. It's one-sided, but it's still a link."

Isabel nodded slowly. "And the colours in your eyes shift when you use the link and talk to each other?"

They nodded in unison.

"My last big secret," Mike replied amiably. "The link."

Isabel probed slightly. The dark spot in his mind suddenly had a name—it was Peter's constant presence in the back of Mike's conscious mind. Now it was shielded, but what if it weren't...? Well, there was nothing they could do about it. Their link was seemingly permanent, but perhaps her link with Mike was not. Perhaps it was simply a short-term side-effect of the healing that would go away once they had a little time and distance behind them.

With a decisive nod, Isabel closed her own shields tightly around herself as she gazed down at Mike sternly. "You rest," she ordered. "I'll be back later."

Don't be long, he sent.

I won't be. YOU sleep.

Yes, Ma'am. Amusement laced with mischievous sarcasm rippled through her mind as he drifted off once more.

"Well, that's a switch," Peter said softly as Isabel eased slowly off the bed, grimacing as she stretched her aching, cramped limbs.

"What is?" she asked, letting him support her as they slipped quietly out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She felt too weak and shaky to risk tumbling headlong down the staircase.

"You wanting to leave him."

"What—?" She shot him a quizzical look, not following that train of thought at all.

"Yesterday when we brought you two back here, we couldn't separate you," he explained. "Every time you lost physical contact with each other, you both got so miserable, we just decided it was easier to keep you together." He paused, then added in an obvious hint for clarification, "We were all kind of curious about that. Is it normal?"

"No," she admitted. "But then nothing about this healing has been normal. I think that happened because I accidentally left a channel open between myself and Mike. Every bit of energy I've had since the healing began has gone to him, even while I slept. I'm totally drained right now."

At least, she thought, I HOPE that's all it is!

"Are you sure you need to be up?" Peter asked, concern evident in his voice. "I mean, if you're that depleted..."

"No, I'll be okay," she said, waving one hand dismissively. "I just need something to eat and a lot more sleep. That's all either of us need for the next day or two, so make sure he doesn't try to overdo," she warned, wagging an admonishing finger at Peter. "I don't want to have to go through this all over again!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, saluting smartly—an eerie echo of Mike's last thoughts before he nodded off again.

Exactly how deep IS their link? she wondered. And what will happen if ours isn't temporary...?

~~~~~~~

Linked.

The word ran through Isabel's mind like a thunderclap as she lay on the couch at the Pad, still weak and listless from the massive healing she'd pulled off. She was bewildered by one detail however, wondering if the deepening lassitude was due solely to the effort of the unusually involved healing itself, or due to the massive shock of what she'd discovered as she had healed Mike.

Linked.

Mike and Peter.

Two bodies. Two identities.

One mind.

She lay listening to the soft music from the two guitarists. Micky, Mags and Davy were next door, helping her finish the last details of unpacking. Peter had floated Isabel over to the couch the minute she'd entered so as to get out of the unpackers' way.

She lay, just listening.... and she felt her eyes close.

Linked....

How deep? was her last conscious thought. How deep does the link run....

"Isabel!" Mike's concerned voice cut through the psychedelic colours that assaulted her through her closed eyelids. She felt his gentle hands on her cheek and arm, shaking her very gently. "Isa, come on, sweetheart, wake up!"

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Mike was standing over her, concern filling his wide blue eyes...

His what?

"Thank goodness," he said, sinking down beside her, facing her. "You gave me a scare and a half, sweetheart! I couldn't wake you!"

Isabel sat up with an effort, unable to tear her gaze away from those eyes... "What's with your eyes?"

He raised a hand and touched the corner of one of them. "Oh... they do that sometimes."

"The link?"

He frowned. "The...."

"Never mind."

"Are you okay?" he asked. At her nod, he nodded back, and smiled.

Isabel gave a violent start. The rosebud lips parted around perfect, straight, white teeth as twin dimples cut deep grooves into his cheeks in front of the black sideburns. Isabel clambered backward as fast as she could, horrified by the eerie sight in front of her.

"M-MIKE?" she half-screamed.

The smile vanished. "What? What is it?"

He reached for her, to soothe her, only to have her clamber onto the couch arm. "Don't touch me!"

"Isabel...."

Then his hand was on her cheek, his voice repeating her name over and over. She was flat on her back again.

Isabel opened her eyes to see both Mike and Peter bending over her; Peter was standing, Mike was sitting beside her on the couch. "Finally," Peter breathed.

"You were screaming," Mike said. "Are you okay?"

She sat up swiftly, clamping her hands on his forearms. "Smile for me!" she demanded.

Mike started. He looked at Peter, and Isabel saw flecks of blue come into his chocolate eyes. If she hadn't been staring so hard at him, she wouldn't have noticed them -- they were small and appeared for barely a second.

And she knew Mike and Peter had just communicated through that damned link!

Mike turned back to her. "Smile at you?"

"Smile at me!" she repeated, more forcefully this time.

And, slowly, Mike's rosebud lips parted in a smile.

Revealing slightly crooked teeth and a small dimple in his right cheek.

Isabel flung her arms around his neck and began to tremble with sheer relief.

Mike wrapped his arms around her and looked at Peter.

What was THAT about? Peter sent.

Mike sent a wave of confusion back at him. He just sat and held Isabel till her trembling stopped.

CHAPTER FIVE: Take a Giant Step Outside Your Mind

Peter woke up and gloated--literally--through his morning routine. He glided down the stairs and puttered about the kitchen getting ready for breakfast.

He loved it when he had dreams like that about Valerie. He could barely wait for after the wedding to make them come true.

Looking toward the stairs, Peter sent a mental "wake up call" to Mike. Hearing a mental groan, Peter grinned, then froze as he heard Mike's voice in his mind: ...loudmouth...

Peter stared wide-eyed up the stairs, then dismissed it. He was imagining things -- Mike could not communicate mentally in words!

After a few minutes, Mike came dragging down the stairs. Peter was sitting on the bandstand practicing, his half-eaten egg sandwich forgotten beside him. He looked up and smiled. "Morning."

Mike grunted in reply.

"How was your night?" Peter asked, genuinely concerned. "She said it would take time for you to recover fully from the healing..."

I'm fine, rang in Peter's head. I'm stronger every day. I wish he'd quit asking! "I'm all right. I slept okay."

Peter's jaw dropped as he stared at Mike. WHAT was that? he sent with a mental gasp.

"I said I'm all right."

No...you said...think something to me!

What has he gone completely round the bend? I can't communicate telepathically in words to him!

Peter smiled. Then tell me how come I just heard every word of that.

CLATTER! The cup Mike had been drinking coffee from fell into the sink as Mike whirled to face Peter. "WHAT?"

"You heard me. I heard every word you said." Peter's smile grew. I think our link isn't one way anymore.

Mike stared incredulously at him. Peter? Can you... can you hear me?

Loud and clear, buddy.

Mike closed his eyes as he sagged into a kitchen chair. Oh, man... HOW?

Peter sat across from him. It must have been when Isa healed you.... our link must have been strengthened... Suddenly he froze. Michael...what's that?

Mike met his eyes. What's what?

There's a... dark, closed off space in your mind... an intruder! Peter closed his eyes, readying himself to drive the unwanted presence from Mike's mind.

A ripple of warm, rich laughter reached his mind as Mike's hand landed on his. Peter... that's not an intruder.

Peter's blue eyes flew open. The unexpected laughter, the unexpected touch, the unexpected warmth in the words... Michael....

All that was on Mike's face was a small smile, but peals of laughter were rippling into Peter's mind. "Trust me, Pete... that is NOT an intruder."

Peter's wasn't astonished by the laughter --- he knew from experience how much of life truly amused the reserved young man. He WAS, however, astonished by Mike's reaction to the other presence in his mind. Then...what is...

Peter's eyes suddenly flew open even wider. It's.... another link! You're mind-linked to someone ELSE besides me! Who? How?

~~~~~~~

Isabel felt a by-now familiar tingling at the base of her skull. Yes, Mike?

A warm chuckle flowed into her mind, followed by Mike's teasing, Hello to you too.

She sighed and took off her glasses, rubbing her tired eyes. Pushing away from the typewriter, she sent Mike... I was working. What's up?

We've been busted. Peter found your presence in my mind. I keep forgetting that unless shields are drawn all the time, it's nearly impossible to hide anything from someone one's mind-linked to. He was laughing again, in slight embarrassment this time.

Isabel shut her eyes and sighed. Oh, shit, she thought.

Isabel?

Tell him the truth, she sent, then drew her shields tight.

~~~~~~~~~

Mike blinked, starting violently as the shields were practically slammed shut in his 'face'.

"Michael?" Peter grabbed his arm, shaking him slightly. "Michael!"

"Huh?" Mike gasped. His eyes refocused and looked at Peter. "I...Isa....Isa...shut her shields...no explanations..."

Peter's blue eyes went huge. "...ISA shut her...ISABEL?!?"

Mike met the huge eyes and nodded. "When she healed me, she healed me while she was unconscious --- and that created a link."

"Aw, man..." Peter said, wiping his mouth and chin -- a habit he'd picked up unconsciously from Mike. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"She's not....not entirely comfortable with our link yet -- or with you and I being linked. And now she knows you know."

Peter nodded. "I'll wake the others. Go to her."

Mike didn't need to be told that. He was already halfway to the door.

~~~~~~~~~

Isabel was pacing. She drew her mental shields tight around her for privacy and held onto them like a lifeline.

Peter knows, she thought, confident now Mike couldn't hear her. That means the others will know too....how deep do our links run? came unbidden to her mind. Who did I fall in love with --- Mike? Peter? Some strange hybrid of the two?

That thought brought the altered Mike from her dream into her mind's eye, and she shivered involuntarily.

"Isabel?" Mike asked softly as he knocked on the door.

Isabel straightened her shoulders. "Yeah," she replied. "Come on in."

Mike opened the door, smiling. "Much as I'm over here, maybe you should just give me a key," he teased.

"I'll think about it," she replied distractedly.

"Hey...." His smile faded. He crossed the room and lay his hands on her shoulders. "Mary-bel? What's wrong?"

She raised tear-filled eyes to his. Who ARE you?

Taken off-guard, he released her, stepping back a step. "...what?"

You heard me, came the answer as the tears began to fall. Normally Isabel was as reserved, if not more so, than Mike; but the multiple emotional shocks of the last few days had scraped her emotions and nerves raw. Who ARE you?

Mary-bel, he replied. You know who I am. You know who I am inside and out!

Do I? How much of that is you? How much of what I see and feel from you is MIKE? How much is PETER? How much is a FUSION of the two? WHO ARE YOU?

So that was it.

CHAPTER SIX

Mike took a deep breath and said slowly, "Mary-Bel.... even non-linked people who live together long enough pick up on each other's mannerisms. I've lived with Peter and the guys for nearly two years. True, the link made the picking up faster, but...." He stepped forward and lay his hands on her shoulders. "Besides, I...MIKE... am the man who loves you. What else matters?"

Isabel just looked at him. She studied him for a long minute, then met his eyes. "But how can I be SURE? How do I know I'm not talking to PETER right now? Or a weird BLEND of you?"

Mike took a deep breath again and, meeting Isabel's eyes, dropped all shields. ALL of them.

He stood before her -- as raw, as vulnerable, as naked as if he were unclothed. No secrets. His very soul was laid bare before her. She could read everything about him -- every secret, every nuance, every little bit. Even the link with Peter was laid bare for her inspection.

She met his eyes for a long moment, then her chin raised.

And so did her shields.
Every.
Single.
One.

Closed. TIGHT.

Mike blinked, taken off-guard and more than slightly dazed by this. "Isabel...." he said, emotion raw and scraping in his voice.

"I don't want you here," she said coldly. "I don't want you in my mind, I don't want you in my life."

"Isa, we're linked. We have no choi----"

"OUT."

Mike shook his head. "Isabe---"

"OUT!" This time there was a mental SHOVE. "GET! OUT!"

Mike staggered as if her hands had shoved his chest. His hands balled into fists, and a white light began to emanate from his wrists. Nevertheless, he tried one more time. "Isabel, if you'd only LISTEN---"

"To WHAT? You trying to convince me this is A Good Thing? It's NOT! It's HORRIBLE and I'm TIRED and I don't want you AROUND!"

With the sublime bad timing the universe gives certain people, Mags opened the door just then. She stood stock-still, taking in Isabel's trembling, furious form and Mike's glowing wrists. ".....uhm...am I interrupting something?"

"No," Isabel said, her voice icy. "Mike was just leaving."

"That's right," he said as his shields closed so tightly it was as if a ghost stood there. "I'm leaving." He began to move toward the door when Isabel's tight voice gave him pause.

"And you know not to come back."

Mike looked over his shoulder slightly. "If that's what you want. TRULY want."

There was a pause, then Isabel whispered, "Just go."

Mike's eyes closed. He nodded once, and walked out of the house.

Mags blinked after him, then frowned at her roommate. "What was THAT all about?"

"Forget about it, Mags." She walked into her bedroom and closed the door.

Mags moved to the door. "No, I WONT forget about it! What just HAPPENED?"

No answer. "Isabel?"

Silence.

"ISABEL?"

More silence. Then, the sound of a muffled raw scream of primal emotional pain.

Mags touched the door, her shoulders sagging. "Aw, Isa..."

~~~~~~~~

Mike stormed in the front door of the Pad.

"Hi, Mike!" Micky chirped. "Ready to prac---" Mike stalked right by him. "---tice?"

"Mike?" Peter was on his feet.

Mike stormed to the sliding door to the beach, threw it open, and stormed down the stairs.

Peter started to go after him, and received a mental image of a clock with an hour's time frame. He'd be back.

Talk to me then?

Silence.

Peter sighed and returned inside. "Something happened. I'll get him to talk later."

But Mike wouldn't talk. Not later, not to anyone. Not about this.

This hurt too damn much.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mags stormed into the Pad two days later. "Where is he?" she snarled.

"Micky's on the beach--" Davy began.

"Not him!" Mags snarled. "Nesmith!"

"Asleep," Peter said firmly, coming down the stairs. "After a sleepless night -- again. What's going on here, Mags?"

Mags put her fists on her hips and huffed. "That, Peter, is what I would like to know!"

He frowned. "Come again?"

"Isabel is gone," she growled.

"Gone?" Peter and Davy gasped together.

"Where?" Davy asked.

"Why?" Peter asked at the same time.

"Home. And I don't know why!" she half-wailed. "That's why I wanted to talk to Mike -- I thought he might know something!"

"All I know," Mike said tiredly from the top of the stairs, "is that we fought and she cut me out. Totally. Shields and all."

Mags nodded at him. "I knew that -- but she won't talk about it to me."

Peter didn't say anything out loud, but Mike winced anyway. Then without a word, he walked back into the bedroom.

Mags folded her arms, her expression asking for an explanation.

Sighing, Peter dragged a hand across a suddenly aching forehead. "Isa's not the only one who won't talk," he said softly.

"Now why doesn't that surprise me one bit, after what we had to do to get them together in the first place?" Mags sighed in exasperation.

~~~~~~~

The next morning, Mike came down to breakfast a bit later than usual. He seemed drained and utterly bone-weary.

Davy quickly filled a plate and put it before him. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, he ate.

"Michael?" Peter asked him gently.

Tired eyes raised to his. "I'm okay," Mike's voice, soft with fatigue, answered. "I'm just very tired."

"Rest, then. We'll wake you in an hour." Mike acknowledged Peter's words by trudging back up the stairs.

Peter frowned after him, chilled to his very soul. Mike was twenty-five years old. Just a few months younger than him.

So why were Mike's temples streaked with grey hairs?

~~~~~~~~

Peter came out of the shower and moved to his bedroom, TK-ing an outfit to the bed as he ran a brush through his hair, frowning as he did so.

He was worried sick about Mike.

But, of course, there was nothing he could do. That stubbourn idiot would NOT talk to him.

All he wanted to do was sleep. All he DID was sleep. In the two days since Isabel had left, Mike had barely left the room.

Peter sincerely hoped that Mike was feeling better. He dressed, pulling the belt to the left as usual, and moved toward the stairs. His movement was arrested at the sight of Micky standing at the top of the stairs --

So rattled he was, quite literally, transparent. "...Pe...Peter...."

"What is it?" Peter asked, climbing the stairs instead of gliding up them.

"Mi...Mike...i-it's Mike...."

"What's wrong with Mike?" When Micky didn't answer right away, Peter took him by the shoulders. "Micky!"

"Y-you'd better see this for yourself, man...."

Mike? Peter sent out as he looked toward the closed door.

No answer.

Mike, are you sleeping?

Go away.

Well, at least you're not asleep. He turned the doorknob.

I said go away. I don’t wanna see or talk to anyone.

Never stopped me before. He walked into the darkened room and closed the door behind him. "It's a new day, Mike. Time to face the world."

"I'm not going to. Go away."

"I am NOT going to let you sit in the dark and feel sorry for yourself." He groped for the light switch beside the door.

Mike's only answer was a tired sigh.

"What was that?"

"So you're going to make me sit in a lit room and feel sorry for myself."

Despite himself, Peter chuckled. "Ah-ha!" he sighed in satisfaction as his searching fingers found and flipped the light switch. "Okay, now let's--"

His smile froze, then died, as the glow of the overhead lights illuminated the room and revealed the figure sprawled in the bed. "What?" the figure growled.

"Oh, my stars," Peter gasped, stepping forward hesitantly. "MIKE?!"

"Yeah," it growled. "Who the hell else would you be harassing?" It frowned. "And what the hell are you starin' at?"

Not knowing what else to do, Peter transmitted what he saw to Mike.

Instantly, the man on the bed sat fully upright, dark eyes going wide. "You're puttin' me on!"

"I wish I was.... I wish I was...."

He shot from the bed into the upstairs bathroom, slamming on the light as he did so. A wordless cry of shock erupted a moment later.

Peter put both hands to his mouth and trembled, trying hard to block that unexpected jolt he'd received out of his mind.

Mike's face was lined. His hair was almost completely grey from the temples down.

In the space of two days, Mike had aged nearly twenty years.

Continue On to Part Three.