I woke up feeling utterly disoriented.  I attributed most of this feeling to the fact that I didn't remember falling asleep.  It was as if one second I was standing stoically against a dirty cave wall and the next I was waking up on a plush bed in the middle of a navy-blue colored room.

But the thing that disoriented me the most wasn't the fact that I was in the bed or the room.  It was the fact that I knew this room.  This was a room I was all-too familiar with.  I'd spent hours upon hours of my childhood here, more time than I probably spent in my own room if I was being honest.  Because, this room, this navy-blue painted room decorated with sports trophies and school awards and photographs of friends room, belonged to Daniel Ortiz.

I shot up out of the bed, wincing as pain coursed through me.  But the pain was less intense than I expected it to be and I found that, while my side was extremely tender and sore, which made it hard to breath, it wasn't the stabbing sort of pain I'd been enduring only hours before.

I was also wearing a shirt that didn't belong to me.  It was several sizes too large and draped across my body like a tent but it was clean and not covered with blood and dirt and sweat so it was an improvement from my previous garment of choice from the night before.  I pulled the hem up and saw, with shock, that my bullet would was covered in a thick pad of gauze and wrapped tightly with a bandage.  I wasn't quite sure who had fixed me up, though if the room was any indication I'd have to assume Daniel or his parents, but I was grateful.

I was also extremely worried about what this meant and so I maneuvered my way quickly towards the closed door that led to the main hallway off of Daniel's room.  Before I had the chance to turn the doorknob, the door itself swung open revealing an eighteen-year-old boy standing before me. 

Daniel looked the exact same as he had the past few times I'd seen him, same black hair and bold green eyes, except there was a weariness and a wariness about him that hadn't been there before. 

"Good," he said to me and seemed to exhale in relief.  His tone was distant, not unfriendly, but not necessarily warm either.  There was dim recognition in his eyes.  I was almost certain that he knew who I was but it seemed as if he didn't want to admit it.  Maybe he couldn't.  "You're awake.  Follow me."

He turned on his heel without another word and headed down the hallway.  I trailed after him, following his steps down the stairs.  He had a quiet tread, not quite as soft as mine but close.  When we reached the landing, I was able to get a glimpse out the window.  It was early in the morning, probably somewhere around five-thirty, if the pale pink and orange sky was any indication.  There were long shadows cast across the hardwood floor. 

We descended the last few steps and then he led me through an open doorway into the kitchen.  Wes was sitting there at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around what seemed to be a mug of coffee.  He looked up as we entered, blue eyes bright and sorrowful.  His gaze turned apprehensive when he saw me trailing behind Daniel. 

Daniel looked at me and nodded towards the extra chairs at the table.  "You can sit."

"I'll stand."  My tone didn't give much room for argument but he narrowed his eyes. 

He'd always been stubborn.  Growing up, he'd been hard to dissuade from whatever crazy idea it was that he'd set his sights on.  He opened his mouth as if to say something and I quirked an eyebrow, waiting.  Then, he sighed and went to the other side of the kitchen where he pulled out two mugs and filled them up with rich caffeine.  I watched as he dumped sugar and cream in one while the other remained carefully untouched.  He picked up the black coffee and handed it to me while he took the other and went to sit across from my brother.

The two of them stared at me with an air of evaluation.  Daniel took a sip from his mug and then his gaze turned accusing.  Wes seemed suddenly very interested in the frayed edge of his sleeve.  I took a careful mouthful of coffee, letting the aroma wash over me.  While coffee wasn't banned, per say, at Oaks, it wasn't exactly an endorsed beverage.  My teachers, true to their British heritage, treated their tea like a deity and it was served in the cafeteria at all hours of the day.  You could only get coffee if you showed up at five a.m. for breakfast and even then the coffee was pretty bad.  If I wanted a decent cup I had to go all the way to the nearest town which was a good forty-five-minute walk.

"So," Daniel said as I put the cup down on the counter.  "You take your coffee black, then, Melanie?"

There was no way I could deny who I was.  It was clear as day to me that Daniel knew my identity and no amount of denying it could change his mind.  I'd been hoping to avoid this with Wes, knowing that I would be leaving again to avenge our parents, but now it seemed as if I had no choice but to let the cat out of the bag.

I crossed my arms over my chest.  I avoided looking at my brother.  "Seems that way, doesn't it, Daniel?"

He leaned back in his chair and there was some indecipherable emotion on his face.  Like he was suddenly uncertain.  Like he hadn't really expected me to say that I was me.  His voice was quieter than I expected when he said, "It's you.  It's really you.  Where have you been?  You've...you've been gone for years.  Years." 

There it was.  That pain and betrayal so clear in his voice.

"It doesn't matter."

Wes lunged to his feet.  His cup of coffee spilled across the table but he didn't seem to notice.  "Doesn't matter?" he hissed at me.  He walked towards me.  "We thought you were dead!  Mom and dad thought you were dead and now you have the audacity to say that it doesn't matter where you've been when they're the ones who are going to be laying in coffins?  What the hell, Melanie?  Who does that?"

His eyes blazed with fury at me but there was also infinite anguish.  He wanted something more than I could give him.  He wanted normalcy.  He wanted his parents back and things to be the same as they had been but they would never be that way again and it was all my fault. 

Wes seemed to realize that I wasn't going to give him anything and he strode past me with angry steps.  He went upstairs, heading, I assumed, to Daniel's room.  Once he was gone, I looked back at my old friend who was watching me with a curious gaze.

"It really is you," he said and beneath the pain there was that stab of wonder.  "After all this time...It's you."

"Yeah, it's me."  The words were short and emotionless.  I grabbed my coffee cup and went to sit across from him, filling Wes's empty seat.  I tapped my fingers against the mug.  "What happened last night?  How did Wes and I end up in your house?"

Daniel frowned, apparently not liking the fact that I so readily steered the topic of conversation away from myself.  "You passed out.  Probably from the blood loss.  Wes managed to get you back here."

"Who fixed me up?"

"I did."

I raised an eyebrow and took a tender sip of the coffee.  "You?  Since when did you learn first aid?"

Daniel stared at me steadily, gaze never wavering.  "Since you went missing four years ago and I didn't know if I was going to find you lying in the middle of the woods dying. Two weeks after you disappeared I got first aid certified and I've kept renewing it ever since just in case."

"Daniel—"

"No, you don't get to do that," he said and his tone was harsher, but also more pained, than it had been before.  His eyes screamed of anguish but the way he leaned across the table and pointed his finger at me was all anger. "You don't get to pretend to be worried or, or feel bad about all of this because it's your fault.  Where the hell have you been?  Do you not understand the fact that we all went crazy, that I went crazy, when you just vanished?  And now you don't even want to give us a valid reason as to why you disappeared in the first place?

"And don't you even try telling me that it doesn't matter where you've been because it does," he continued coldly.  "It matters to me and it matters to your brother who is scared out of his mind right now because in the matter of a week he's lost both of his parents, and you don't even seem to care." 

By the end he was shouting, his voice raised with anger, but now he just sat there, chest heaving, and staring at me.  There was a tick jumping in his jaw and his eyes were practically blazing.  They were brighter, more passionate, than I'd ever seen them.

"I came back," I began calmly when it seemed like he wasn't going to start yelling again, "because I got word that my mother was dead.  I came back here for the funeral and because I had to make sure my dad and brother were fine.  I was planning on leaving today but then all that shit last night happened.  I wasn't supposed to come back, Daniel.  I was supposed to disappear forever and leave all of you in the past.  You think I want to be back here?  Hmm?  You think I want to be here because I don't.  The only reason I'm back is because my mom died.  The only reason I'm staying right now is because of my brother."

Daniel looked away from me.  I got the sense that he was repressing the urge to throttle me.  When he spoke, his voice was a lot tighter, controlled.  "Who were those people?" he asked finally.  "Wes didn't know.  All he said was that they broke into your house, shot your dad, tried to kill him and then you were there and saved his life.  Why were they there?  What were they after?"

I shook my head.  "I don't know but I'm going to find out.  Have the police been called yet?  Has it been reported?"

Daniel nodded tensely.  "One of your neighbors heard gunshots and called the cops.  They found the house completely trashed with your dad dead and your brother missing.  The cops have been knocking on doors to see if anyone saw anything.  They came here about an hour before Wes showed up carrying you."

"Did you contact them after we arrived?"

He shook his head.  "No.  I almost did.  But your brother and I decided to wait until you woke up because we figured you'd have some input."  I raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.  "I figured you'd have some input.  There's scar tissue all over your torso and you've got more muscle than I ever thought you'd be capable of having.  You're completely different both in looks and demeanor from the girl that I knew and so I wanted answers before the cops came knocking again.  Plus, I wasn't quite sure how to explain the fact that my friend's sister is seemingly back from the dead with a bullet wound to boot, so no.  I didn't call them."

"Good," I said.  "Most likely the people who attacked us last night have some connection to the police force so that they can keep on top of the investigation and any potential leads."  I sighed and then a thought dawned on me.  "Where are your parents?"  Normally they would've been right in the middle of something like this and so their absence made me pause.

"London," Daniel explained as he took a sip of coffee.  "My mom got called away on a business trip a few days ago and so they decided to make a vacation of it."

"Oh."  I took another drag from my mug and let the caffeine wash through me.  "I need to borrow your phone."

Daniel narrowed his eyes at me.  He placed his cup on the table with an audible thud. "Why?"

I rolled my eyes.  "I'm trying to keep my brother safe, all right?  Give me some credit.  I can't do this on my own so I need to call in some reinforcements.  Everything I have is back at my motel so I need to borrow your phone."

He looked as if he was going to protest and then, grudgingly, he slid his cell phone out of his pocket and passed it to me.  He got to his feet then and said, "I'm going to go check on your brother."

"Okay."

Daniel left me alone then with the mobile device. It was a flashy smartphone but there was no password to it and so I was able to turn it on and dial without difficulty.  I punched in the number and listened as the phone started to ring.  After it rang once, I ended the call and then repeated the process twice more.  It was a code Lia and I had come up with a few months after I'd enrolled in Oaks.  That way we would always know who was calling if we were forced to call from an unknown line. 

The fourth time I dialed, the call was picked up after the second ring.  "Mel?" Lia's worried voice met my ears.  Her tone was harsh but soft, almost like she was whispering.  There was a weird echo, as if she were in a small confined space.  "Are you okay?  We know there's something going on but no one will tell us anything.  My parents are at some meeting with Professor McCarthy and some other MI6 members.  I heard they're in contact with the CIA, too.  Your name's been mentioned a few times, though I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to hear it.  What the hell happened?"

"Who's with you?  Is it safe?"

"It's just me and Max.  Tasha's here too somewhere.  I think she's trying to cook or something.  We don't have long, though.  They've been checking in on us every ten minutes or so to see if you've contacted us.  They knew that you were going to eventually."  Lia's face darted into view when I blinked.  I could see her so clearly, she and Tasha.  My sisters.

"Okay, we'll be fast then.  My dad and brother were attacked last night.  My dad's dead.  My brother and I are at a friend's house.  The police are out looking for my brother but so far it doesn't seem as if there are any reports of me."

"Is she hurt?"  That was Max's voice in the background.

"I've got a couple cuts and bruises and I was shot—"

"You were shot—?"

"What?" Max again, his voice sharp.  I could picture his expression, eyebrows narrowed into dark line across his forehead, mouth turned down, jaw strong, and blue eyes sharp.  The thought of him made a pang shoot through me.  It was strange, I conceded.  I was with my biological brother and yet there was an ache in my chest for the boy who had become blood to me in a way I wouldn't have thought possible.

"I'm fine," I assured them both.  "I got it all fixed up.  Look I need to know what I'm up against because right now I don't have a clue.  Can one of you try and figure out what they're talking about and whether or not these people are after my brother or me?  I feel like I already know the answer but I need it confirmed."

Rustling on the other end and then Lia said, "Max is on it.  What else can we do?"

I took a breath.  "I need you to research something for me, Lia, and I need you to do it as covertly as possible."

"What is it?" Her voice was strong and determined, ready for a challenge.

I dropped my voice in case Daniel or Wes were trying to listen in, though, to the best of my knowledge, they were still upstairs.  "Last night, my father said something before he died and I need to know what he meant by it.  He told me that he wasn't my father but he couldn't get anything else out.  I need you to find out what he meant."

"I'm on it."

"Thanks."

"I'll call you as soon as I have anything.  Stay safe."

Lia disconnected the call before I had the chance to say anything further.  I placed the phone face-up on the table and took a shuddering breath.  There wasn't really much else I could do until I had more information from Lia and so maneuvered my way into Daniel's living room and turned on the television.  I flipped through the channels until I came across the news and, sure enough despite the early hour, there was a segment running about a recent homicide and potential kidnapping in rural Redmond, Oregon.  I listened distantly as the anchor droned on about how a man was found in the early morning, dead in his home, and how his teenaged son appeared to be missing.  There was no mention of the two agents I'd left behind when Wes and I had run and so I could only assume that the team who'd been hunting us down had retrieved them before they'd left.

         They made mention of how the police were putting together a manhunt for Wes, starting with the forest that surrounded our town.  They were asking for public assistance in searching for him, as well as, begging for any tips to his whereabouts.

I turned the television off once it switched to sports coverage.  The air seemed suddenly very still and very silent.  I couldn't hear anyone talking upstairs but there was a nearly indecipherable tread pacing across the ceiling and so I knew the two boys were still there.  If I was smarter then I would have recognized that to be my time to run.  No one was watching me.  It would have been easy enough to slip out the door unseen.  It was almost too tempting of a thought.  But I also knew that I couldn't run yet.  Not until I knew with absolute certainty if those people were after me or my brother. 

A few minutes later, two sets of footsteps descended the stairs but once they hit the bottom floor only one continued.  Wes appeared in the living room a moment later looking apprehensive.  He stared at me for a long moment, eyes tracing over my face, before he moved to sit on the plush armchair that was directly across the room, as far away from me as he could possibly get.

There was a long moment of silence and then he spoke.  "Daniel said that you came back because you heard about mom.  Is that true?"

"Yes."

"And you were leaving again.  Today?"

"Yes."

"Were you going to contact us?  Ever?"

I leaned back against the couch and regarded him calmly.  "No."

Hurt flashed across his face.  He suddenly looked very young.  He didn't look seventeen.  Instead, he appeared to be no older than the thirteen-year-old boy I'd left behind when I'd gone.  "Why did you leave?"

"I can't—"

"I'm your brother," he insisted.  "And I thought you were dead.  For almost four years, I thought that you were dead and you're not.  I think I deserve some answers.  Were you...were you kidnapped?  Did someone make you leave?"

I was already shaking my head knowing that, at the very least, I owed him this.  "No, Wes.  I wasn't kidnapped.  No one forced me to go.  It was my decision and mine alone.  I chose to go.  And I knew when I made that decision that I would never be able to contact you or Daniel or our parents ever again.  I still decided to go knowing all of that."

Wes recoiled in shock.  He clearly wasn't expecting that.  He was hoping that I'd either been kidnapped or coerced into leaving.  He had never expected it to be my own decision.  Had never expected that it would be something I would want.

"Why?" he asked, eyes wide and watery.  "Why would you go?  Why would you give up your family for...whatever it is you've been doing?"

I was about to answer him when Daniel's cell phone rang in my hand.  The number that flashed across the screen was Lia's and so I accepted the call, pulling the device up to my ear in the same smooth motion.  I saw hurt flash across my brother's face at being so blatantly pushed aside but I didn't have the time to worry about his feelings now.

"Yeah?" I said by way of greeting. 

"Hey, Mel."

I breathed a sigh of relief.  "Hey, Max."  Across the room, Wes stared at me, half in anger and half in shock.  "Give me a sec." 

I got to my feet and walked out of the room, leaving Wes watching after me.  I passed by