The appearance of the shadow man in the mirror, the spectral vision, seemed to somehow soothe Danny, slipping into a pleasant sleep he didn't dream, didn't fidget, didn't wake at all.

Sleeping through the night was something the man never did, either the mattress springs twanging and creaking or his bad dreams made it impossible, so he was pleasantly grateful when he awoke naturally at 8am the next morning actually feeling pretty good.

Yawning and stretching forgetting his damaged ribs Danny heaved as a feeling of nausea hit hard, antibiotics, painkillers and an empty belly weren't a good combination, "uuuurgh, that hurts" he groaned as his ribs throbbed.

Despite the pain his head felt lighter,

clearer, the vision of those grey eyes and the sound of that soft voice still lay in his memory, he wondered briefly if the man behind the visor had died, and he'd seen his ghost, but then the man...... Mark if he remembered rightly, had thanked him for saving him, so he must be alive, but if he was okay why did he come to him through the mirror?.

Maybe he had dreamed it all, maybe he hadn't actually been awake at all, maybe the whole thing was a vision conjured up by his exhausted brain?.

He guessed he may never know, but thanked whatever entity must've been listening in the early morning gloom as he'd slumped onto his sofa in the aftermath of Friday night, for saving the man with the haunting grey eyes.

Standing awkwardly he plodded through to the tiny bathroom, he couldn't shower so he filled the sink with hot water, at least that was working, washed his hair, removed his sleeping attire and had a quick strip wash, the warmth and bubbles making him shudder and sigh, feeling cleaner and better.

Tying the towel round his waist and scrubbing his teeth once more he studied his face again, "you need a shave you scruffy git" he mumbled as he skewed his head side to side, inspecting the growing stubble that no longer was a five o'clock shadow, it was more like a ten past eight shadow by that point.

"I think it looks fine".

Danny froze, the voice again, quiet, soft, lightly chuckling.

"Um........why........why are you here again?" Danny stuttered as the shadow of the man reappeared at his shoulder, the grey eyes glinting, friendly.

"Can I not talk to the one who saved my life?", the head of short dark hair tilted slightly.

Danny pinched his arm, hard, to see if he was truly awake, cursing at the dark red blemish that appeared almost immediately on his pale skin.

"You....... you're n-not a dream?", looking up from his arm he once again studied the man in the mirror, once more spinning around to empty air, then back again.

"I'm not a dream" mirror man replied.

And he was gone.

"Either I'm going crazy or......?", Danny shook himself, he couldn't really find an alternative to the 'going crazy' theory so the 'or........?' part of his question to himself went unanswered.

The jingling of his phone broke his musings, finishing up and carefully pulling on clean joggers and a long sleeved shirt he shivered, thinking that he really should crank up the heating, mentally groaning at how much that was going to cost.

Deciding against it he grabbed clean socks from the radiator, wandered through to his tiny gloomy living room and flicked on the tall lamp in the corner, a soft glow permeating the cool air.

The day outside was bright and clear, looking as if it would be warm, but being late April he knew it could still be pretty chill, looking out at almost eye level with the road he watched as stray items of rubbish blew randomly across the empty street.

The remnants of yellow sand flicked up in little drifts, the fuel stain and the blood still visible, tiny pieces of what was once a majestic machine littered the steps down to his flat, he watched as the breeze whipped around in the well by his door, moving the tiny pieces around.

The motorcycle had once been a rich red colour and although he didn't really know much about them, he'd seen enough to know the bike was big and expensive.

He wondered if the driver of the car had been charged, he and all the neighbours at the scene had confirmed that the driver was drunk as a skunk, as a breathalyser had proved within seconds.

He hoped that justice would be done for the rider of that now destroyed machine, the man with the haunting grey eyes that visited him through his mirror.

****

Just as his last two slices of dry bread popped back up as hot golden toast, Danny poured the hot water from the boiling kettle into his mug, he didn't really mind a black coffee, it wasn't his preference but the milk had gone chunky and he didn't feel up to going out, so he plumped for buttered toast and the bitter deep brown drink.

It was hot and it filled a hole, the grumbling in his stomach somewhat relieved for a short while.

Settling down for a day of rubbish TV and the last few chocolate biscuits he yawned and fell into his faded sofa, creaks and boings coming from the stressed springs and the hint of a musty smell rising from the cushions.

Just as he got comfortable there was a quiet knock on his door.

"Uuuuhhhhh go away" Danny moaned, the very thought of getting up again and the throbbing in his chest made him queasy, the knock came again, louder this time, throwing his head back he sighed, "Hina seriously, text me first, don't just turn up christ woman I'm in pain here", grumbling he clutched a hand to his ribs and heaved himself up off the sofa.

Flicking the key round and prising open the door a huge bunch of flowers almost smacked him in the face.

"What the........?", Dannys eyes widened as the face of a woman, then that of a man popped around each side of the huge bouquet.

"Um.......I think you have the wrong address, these....... can't be for me" he stuttered, the overwhelming scent of roses and lilies assaulting his senses making him breathe in deeply, savouring the sweet smell.

"Danny?, Danny Taylor?".

"Y-yes, but who....... what?.

"We're Mark Chandlers parents" the dark haired, dark eyed woman said stepping to the side with a small nervous smile.

"Who?" Danny looked confused.

"Mark?, oh.......... oh god......... Mark!".

A sudden flashback flickered in his brain, the mirror man, he'd said his name was Mark.

"The......the guy.......the-the bike......the crash out-outside?!", the blonde stuttered with realisation.

"We've come to thank you" the equally dark but greying haired dark eyed man smiled as nervously as his wife, taking in Dannys shocked expression and the catch of his breath in his throat.

"Oh......um.......where are my manners, come..... come....i-in", Danny, throat dry, rasped then coughed, flinching at a sudden stab of pain from his injury.

Taking a better look at the couple that had just invaded his downtime, Danny could see similarities to mirror man in the man and the woman.

The man was well built with styled dark greying hair, tall, 6ft 2 maybe, dwarfing Dannys 5ft 10, a little heavy at the waist but fit and broad shouldered.
The sculpted squarish face with dark features, heavy brows and piercing grey eyes, obviously passed down from father to son, mirror man also had the same angular chin shape and lips as his father.

Casually dressed in fitted jeans, long sleeved shirt and hi-top black converse, which was somewhat of a surprise, he still managed to look commanding and somehow a tad scary.

The woman, shorter by around 4 inches, pretty much Danny's height, elegant, her pale green dress and casual jacket accentuating a slightly generous 'hourglass' figure, her matching converse although not hi-top, strangely not out of place with the pretty dress.

Dark brown hair swept up in a casual bun, oval face with more delicate features, lighter hazel eyes that, as he looked into them glinted with an inner devil that contradicted her soft outer appearance, high brows and thin lips with a slight Cupid's bow.

"We're sorry to just....turn up like this, your neighbours told us which number you lived at" the man behind the flowers said nervously as they followed Danny, hand plastered to his side, the man diverted to his tiny kitchen and set the flowers down on the grubby worktop.

"Are you alright?", the woman followed him through into his tiny space, her husband following on behind looking around with an expression that could only be described as dismay, at the tiny grimy flat.

"Oh.....um......just a scrape, um.....from Friday night, broken bed spring, c-caught me when I shot out of bed w-when I heard the........ yeah, outside, the....um, noise" Danny winced as he once again sat down, apologising that there wasn't much space he indicated to the pair to take a seat beside him.

"You....really didn't have to.....", indicating to the beautiful bouquet nestled in its own self contained vase, Danny smiled awkwardly, "I didn't really do anything" he coughed, holding on tight to his chest.

"But, you did, you saved our son, the police told us you stopped someone taking his helmet off, and you stopped him from choking by undoing his chin strap, if it weren't for you he would be...........d-d......".

The mans surprisingly gentle voice, so like Marks had been when he'd spoken through the mirror, wavered and cracked as his lips trembled, not able to finish the sentence and utter the word 'dead'.

Wrapping her husband in her arms the woman stroked his back, pulling his face into her shoulder as the man wept silent tears, Danny, feeling himself well up at the sight of the man breaking down, sniffled and wiped away the moisture gathering in his own eyes, trying desperately to maintain some sort of composure.

"A-anyone c-could have done it" he croaked out feeling his voice break.

"But they didn't, you did, you Danny" the woman smiled.