*****

"You can unpack your stuff in here," Mr. Whittaker told him, indicating the five-drawer bureau along the wall opposite the bed. "The rest of it you can put in the closet. Do you need any help?"

"No, thank you." Daniel set down his small, battered bag on the hardwood floor. In truth, he didn't have much to unpack. He knew from experience that it would take him all of five minutes to organize his meager belongings.

Mr. Whittaker, or Adam, as he had told Daniel to call him, had offered to carry his bag upstairs for him, but Daniel preferred to carry it himself. It gave him something tangible, something familiar to hold onto every time he was faced with the new, the unfamiliar, and much as he hated to admit, the frightening. He knew he shouldn't find going to a new home scary anymore. After all, he was ten years old, no longer a little kid, and he had been doing this for two years. This should be easy by now. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy. Unfortunately, every time was almost as scary as the first time had been.

"Okay." Adam paused to look at him for a moment as Daniel stood patiently, waiting for the man to leave him alone in the bedroom. "You don't have to unpack now, you know? You want to come downstairs and watch TV, or something? Shannon and Jess should be here any minute now."

Daniel shook his head. "I think I will unpack now, if you don't mind."

"Sure, no problem. Just come down whenever you feel like it, all right?" Adam lightly patted Daniel's shoulder and Daniel forced himself to hold still and not pull away as had become instinct over the years. He didn't want to offend the man who, so far, had been more than nice enough to him.

Daniel waited until Adam had left the room and he heard the man's footsteps on the staircase before he sat down on the edge of the bed, opened his bag and took out his belongings. Only a few pairs of jeans, one pair of dress pants, three sweaters, and four T-shirts made up his wardrobe. Daniel carefully placed his clothes, socks, and underwear in the drawers. He took out his father's journal and his favorite Egyptian textbook and tucked them both between the mattresses.

Looking around the sparsely decorated, but comfortable room, he noticed that the window faced the backyard. There was a swing set, a sandbox, toys scattered on the lawn. A real family backyard. Just like many of the backyards in many of the houses he had lived in. Somehow they all looked the same, yet looked more foreign to him than the pyramids in Egypt. He hadn't been in Egypt in nearly three years, but Egypt still felt like home. Maybe it was simply because that was the last time he'd had a family of his own.

He turned back toward the open door at the sound of a woman's voice nearing. The owner of the voice appeared in the doorway and gave him a cheery smile before stepping in the room. A little girl about three or four years old peeked out from behind the woman's legs, chewing on the end of her pigtail.

The young woman held out her hand for Daniel to shake as he stood up from the bed. "Hi, I'm Shannon," she said with a smile.

Daniel took her hand briefly, then wrapped his arms around his chest and tried not to look as nervous as he felt.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you arrived,' she continued, "I was running late picking this little runt up from her ballet class. She decided very loudly that she wanted to stay for another class."

Daniel noticed the little girl was still dressed in a pink leotard and a fluffy, lopsided tutu.

"Oh, and this is Jessica." Shannon laid her hand on the little girl's dark hair. "Say hi to Daniel, Jessie�or do you prefer Dan, or Danny?"

"Daniel's fine," he answered, barely above a whisper.

Jessica moved out from behind her mother's legs and stared at him. "Hi. Do you like ballet?"

"Hi, um, sure. I guess," he answered.

"Watch this!" Jessica raised her chubby arms over her head and twirled in a tottering pirouette.

"That's, um..." Daniel said, looking through thick eyelashes fluttering over bright blue eyes, "that's very good."

"I know. How old are you? I'm four." Jessica held up her hand, four fingers upraised.

"I'm ten," Daniel answered, holding up both hands.

Jessica giggled. "Do you like chocolate chip cookies?" she asked, her expression suddenly somber, as if the matter was of grave importance.

"Okay, Jess, quit bugging Daniel," Shannon broke in. "He just got here; give him a day or two before you start pestering him, huh? Jessie and I were going to have a snack�chocolate chip cookies, to be exact�why don't you come join us?" Shannon smiled at him as she talked, her features open and friendly, her deep brown eyes warm and kind.

Daniel was taken aback, unsure of how to react to this new, and almost alarmingly friendly family�so different from the last home in which he had lived for nearly two months. So different from the impersonal children's shelter where he had spent the three days prior. "N�no thank you. I... I'm not really hungry."

Shannon raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Dinner won't be for another couple of hours, and my cookies are pretty famous around here."

"They're yummy!" Jessica said, doing a little hop in front of him, her tutu bobbing.

Daniel nodded, giving Jessica a shy smile as she twirled around again. "Yes, I'm sure," he answered after a moment.

"Okay, but if you change your mind, come down anytime you want to," Shannon said, unknowingly telling him the same thing her husband had. She steered Jessie out of the bedroom and went downstairs.

Daniel pushed the door shut, then retrieved his book on Ancient Egypt from between the mattresses. He settled down on the colorful quilt covered bed and began to read, to tune out the world, taking shelter behind the ancient myths and mysteries. Except as he read his thoughts were continually distracted. He could hear the voices and sounds from the television drifting upstairs, could hear the unfamiliar groans and creaks in the old house's foundations.

Daniel realized that he had been staring at the same page of his book for he didn't know how long when his stomach started growling incessantly, only adding to his distraction. He had to admit that he was hungry. Breakfast had been a few bites of toast, and he had left his lunch untouched�he could never eat before arriving at a new home.

He gave up on his book, and futilely wished for the stash of chocolate bars he usually kept in his bag for such instances. Sitting up, he slid off the bed and before he had a chance to change his mind, made his careful way down the wooden staircase.

Maybe I can duck in and out really quick, he thought as he padded along the hallway toward the kitchen in his socked feet.

"He seems very shy, but sweet, doesn't he?"

Daniel heard Shannon's voice drifting from the kitchen and he froze, knowing she was talking about him.

"He's probably just nervous," Adam's voice answered. "His social worker mentioned that he hasn't talked much since leaving the last place he was in."

"The poor thing, he's had a tough time," Shannon soft voice said. "He's a little cutie, though. I would kill for eyelashes like that."

Daniel smiled faintly at Shannon's words. He decided it was safe to make his presence known, but was hesitant as he stepped into the kitchen, unsure if he was intruding.

"Daniel," Shannon smiled at him. "Come join us." She pulled out the chair beside her. A plateful of cookies sat invitingly in the middle of the table.

So much for the quick grab and retreat, he thought with a combination of nervousness and dismay. Stepping up to the table he slid onto the offered chair, and slumped down.

Shannon got up, poured a glass of milk and brought him a plate. Setting them in front of him, she said, "We're not usually this domestic, so don't worry."

Daniel looked at her, frowning, uncertain how to respond.

Shannon grinned at the confused expression on his face. "I mean, we usually don't sit down at the table having milk and cookies like the Brady Bunch. It's kind of a free-for-all, actually. You just help yourself to anything in the fridge if you're hungry, all right?"

"Okay," Daniel said and looked down at his lap. He pulled at a loose thread on the hem of his T-shirt, wound it tightly around the tip of his index finger, watched the skin turn blue.

"Yeah, and sometimes she even cooks something edible, too," Adam added with a smirk. He grabbed a couple of cookies, dodged Shannon's swat at his head and went into the living room.

"I understand that it's a little scary coming to a new home, being told to live with virtual strangers, but I promise you, we're very nice," Shannon said as she looked at Daniel again.

Daniel nodded, kept his head down and unwound the thread from his finger. There were tiny grooves etched in his skin. He reached for a cookie and took a bite so he wouldn't have to answer. The cookie was good, and as he slowly chewed it, he tried to remember if his mom had ever baked cookies. He remembered her making semit�sometimes she would let him help her knead and shape the bread dough�but he didn't remember cookies.

"I grew up in foster homes, too, so I know how hard it can be," Shannon said.

Daniel's head shot up and he looked at her, surprised. Shannon's face was somber, sympathetic. "You take all the time you need till you feel comfortable with us, all right?"

She gave him a gentle smile and Daniel found himself inexplicably near tears. He looked down at his lap again, hiding his eyes, hiding the turmoil filling him. Jessica tore in from the living room, chattering to them around mouthfuls of cookie, thankfully distracting Shannon and granting Daniel time to force the threatening tears back.

He pulled at the thread again, wound and unwound the gray fiber over his finger, listened to the sounds of their voices, but not the actual words, as if they were in another room, far away.

*****

Daniel had been with the Whittakers for over a month. They had been surprised and impressed when they realized that he was in the 9th grade, even though he was a few months away from his 11th birthday.

His new classmates regarded him with the same wariness as in the three other schools he had attended. His intelligence and careful aloofness set up a clearly defined barrier that the other kids grudgingly respected, and they kept their distance. He endured the usual amount of bullying from some of the bigger boys. Tolerated the same favoring from his teachers who would ask him to stay after class to give him books they thought he might like to read, to ask him about his background. He always hated it, always wondered if they were really interested in him, or if they were merely curious about his history with social services.

The only thing different was being with the Whittakers. Their kindness and easy acceptance was something he was at a loss to relate to, and even more at a loss to explain why he found it so frightening. He wanted to interact with them, but refused to allow himself to. Maybe it was because being with them made him think of his own lost family, made him miss them even more for reasons he was unable to understand.

Maybe it was because he knew this too would come to an end, like everything else always did.

Capió, capimus, capior, capimur, he recited in his head. Capiébam, capiébámus, capiébar, capiébámur. The melodious words rolled silently in his mouth like a delicious morsel. A way of keeping his mind distracted as he walked home, maintaining a safe distance from the older kids in his class who were a half a block ahead of him.

Daniel didn't mind walking alone. He'd always liked to walk and most times he preferred the solitude and the freedom to be alone with his thoughts, his surroundings serving as his only distraction. He'd even gotten himself in trouble too many times for wandering off, his thoughts elsewhere, and suddenly realizing that he was a mile away from where he was supposed to be.

He imagined being back in the desert, walking through sand instead of stepping on concrete. He remembered how his father said the air always smelled different in the arid climate�spicier, richer somehow. Looking at the modest, middle income houses with their carefully manicured lawns, Daniel tried to imagine what sort of house his parents would have bought had they lived in America long enough. He smiled to himself at that thought. He figured his parents would have felt more at home in a tent than in houses as modern and sterile as these.

Even though he sometimes missed them with a longing so intense it made his chest ache, Daniel couldn't remember them all that well anymore. Most of his memories were vague, sketchy�making him wonder which were true and which were details his imagination supplied to fill in the missing gaps. Maybe they were only from the journal he read late at night, just before drifting off to sleep, mixing his father's words with his subconscious to form his own cache of synthesized and incomplete memories.

Their features were always blurred when he tried to remember how they had worked�digging, writing, taking pictures of their findings. He could hardly remember what they looked like anymore, but for some reason, he could still remember with acute detail the way his mother's glasses always seemed to be covered with dust. Her nervous gesture of tucking her hair behind her ear as she spoke, or the way his father's shirt cuffs were usually missing buttons and how he always talked with his hands. It was strange that he could remember their essences, the fractured moments and mannerisms, but not their faces.

The only sense he had of their features was frozen in time, captured in the one wrinkled photo he found in his father's journal. Nick had put the rest of the photos, along with his parents' other belongings in storage for Daniel until he was older�not giving him a chance to choose anything of theirs to keep. It was as if Nick was worried Daniel would lose them, or sully them with his very touch. If Daniel hadn't quickly snatched his father's journal and hidden it under his jacket while Nick sorted through their belongings just after the memorial service, Daniel wouldn't have had anything of theirs to hold onto, to help him remember them.

Rounding the corner of the block where Daniel now lived, he wondered if he would ever again be a part of the lives his parents had constructed. If their things would ever become his again, instead of lost and as frozen in time as their faded presence.

Just before the Whittaker's house, Daniel noticed Jessica sitting on the grass, crying softly. He went up to her and crouched down in front of the little girl. "Jessie, what's the matter?"

Her small hands were clutched over her knee and she looked up at him with huge tear-filled brown eyes. "I fe�fe�fell down!" she sobbed as dramatically as only little kids can do.

"Really? Let's see." Daniel peered at her knee as she carefully lifted her fingers away from her injury. The knee was very lightly scraped; a few tiny specks of blood dotted the raw skin. "Wow. I think that's gonna need a Band-Aid. How `bout we go home and get you one?"

Jessie stared at him, her chin trembling, and she nodded. Daniel lifted her up, swinging her around, making airplane noises. Jessie shrieked with glee, wounded knee all but forgotten, and he set her down on the sidewalk, taking her hand.

Stepping into the house, he called for Shannon, but received no answer. He could hear the hum of the vacuum cleaner and distant thumps of movement coming from upstairs. Daniel decided to take Jessie into the kitchen and sat her on one of the chairs before going into the bathroom to dig out the Band-Aids he knew were kept under the sink. He dampened a wash cloth with warm water.

Returning to Jessie, he knelt down in front of her and daubed at Jessie's injury before carefully placing the Band-Aid on it. "There, all better now," he said, smiling at her and stood again. Jessie looked up to smile back, gazing at him with adoring eyes.

"Hey, guys," Shannon came into the kitchen, and Daniel felt a momentary twinge of uncertainty and turned toward Shannon.

"She, um... she fell, and I called you but you didn't answer, and I figured you were busy, so I�"

"Daniel fixed my knee all up, Mommy!" Jessica proudly informed her.

"He did? How did you hurt your knee, sweetie?"

"I wanted to meet Daniel on his way home and I fell down."

"I thought I told you to stay in the house until I was finished," Shannon said to her.

"I was only one house away!"

"But that's not what I told you, is it?" She looked at Jessica until the little girl shook her head. "Next time you wait for Daniel on the front step, got it?"

" `Kay."

"She seems to have developed a bit of a crush on you, I'm afraid," Shannon said, turning to Daniel and shrugging. "Thanks for taking care of her, Daniel. I'm sorry I didn't hear you; that vacuum cleaner is so friggin' loud. You know kids�you turn your back on them for one minute, and they're figuring out all kinds of ways to run off and maim themselves." She stopped for a moment. "Why am I telling you this? I forgot, you're a kid too, but I have to tell you, Daniel, sometimes you're more mature than Adam is."

"I don't know about that..." Daniel said, relieved that Shannon wasn't too angry with Jessie or with him for stepping in.

"Oh, yeah. He's a big whiner," Shannon grinned. "So how was school today?"

"Fine."

"Just fine? Nothing new and exciting? Any cute girls in your class, or do you still think girls are yucky?"

"Girls are not yucky!" Jessica piped up, planting her small hands on her hips.

"Shush, Jess. I was talking to Daniel."

Jessica frowned, then went into the living room and plopped herself in front of the television set.

Daniel shrugged, looked down at his feet. "I don't think they're yucky, but most of the girls in my class are about six inches taller than me."

"Oh, right�I forgot," Shannon almost slapped her forehead. "That must be strange being so much younger and smarter than the other kids. I'm envious, really. I nearly failed most grades. Being moved around so much I kept getting behind, and honestly, I didn't try very hard in school."

"Wh-what... happened to your parents, Shannon?" Daniel gave her a tentative glance, wondering if he was prying too much. "If you� you don't mind me asking�."

"Of course I don't mind," she answered, then moved to the fridge, took out a container of juice and poured them each a glass. She sat down at the table, urging Daniel with a wave of her hand to join her.

He took the chair opposite her and waited for Shannon to continue.

"My mom abandoned me when I was a little older than Jess. I never knew who my dad was." Shannon paused to take a sip from her glass.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Daniel said, blinking. He took a quick sip from his own juice so he wouldn't have to say anything else.

"Yeah, it's tough being alone in the world when you're just a kid, as you know too well." Shannon ran a hand through her dark hair, and Daniel noticed a thin, faint white scar on her wrist. He wondered how she had gotten it.

"Some of the places I lived in were good, some of them were� some of them were not so good," she said, trailing a nervous finger across the lip of her glass. She looked back at Daniel and smiled wryly. "You learn to look out for yourself, right? Sometimes the world isn't a very nice place, but what's important is not to let it beat you down, and to remember that you do matter. Everyone matters."

Daniel glanced at Shannon, surprised at the vehemence of her words.

Shannon took another sip of juice, then smiled at him, laughing softly. "God, I sound like Buddha, or something. That's right, isn't it? Buddha was one of the wise men who had the world all figured out?"

Daniel gave her a shy smile. "Yeah, that's right. Then there's also Confucius."

"And the unforgettable Socrates."

"And Plato," he muttered.

"Dr. Spock?"

"Freud," Daniel grinned.

"Phil Donahue?" Shannon threw her hands up in mock frustration. "Okay, you win! God, Daniel, don't you ever read comic books or anything?"

Daniel shrugged, fidgeted in his chair and looked away, self-conscious. "Well, sometimes I like Spiderman."

"Really? Spiderman," Shannon repeated, surprised. "A closet comic book reader, huh? I promise I won't tell anyone, although I would have figured you to be more the Batman type."

"No way�Batman's just a rich guy with a lot of cool stuff." Daniel sat up straighter, shaking his head as he spoke with sudden enthusiasm. "Spiderman's smart�he's a scientist, but he's tough, too. He wants to help people, and most of the time he has to rely on his intelligence more than on his super powers."

Shannon considered for a moment. "That's true. Brains will get you a lot farther in life than super powers, that's for sure."

"I guess." Daniel shrugged again, started picking at the ragged cuticle on his thumb.

"You know what, Daniel?" Shannon reached for his hand. Daniel tensed like he always did when anyone reached for him, but Shannon took hold, squeezing his hand in a firm but gentle grip. "You don't have to be such a tough guy all the time, either. If you're feeling down or just need to talk, I'm always here to listen. So is Adam."

Daniel nodded, broke her intense gaze, carefully pulled his hand away and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't sure what Shannon had meant by 'tough guy.' He wasn't tough and he knew he didn't need to talk about anything. Didn't want to talk about anything.

It wouldn't change things, would it? His parents would be just as dead. He would be just as alone�just waiting until the state decided he was old enough to take care of himself. That's it. That's all there was for him now.

*****

"Hey, Daniel, did you have a good day?" Shannon greeted him as he came into the kitchen. "This came for you in the mail." She handed him a colorful postcard.

Daniel took the card, his heart pounding in his ears. Turned the card over. It was decorated with brightly colored foreign stamps and Nick's sprawling handwriting. Daniel noticed the postdate was two months old.

The card was from Belize, depicting a featureless, could-have-been-anywhere sandy beach. He studied the glossy photo of the foreign sand and held his breath, afraid to turn the card over again and see what it said, what it offered. He knew Shannon was watching him, so after a moment, he slowly turned the card over.

Greetings, Daniel. Hope you are well and studying hard in school. Be good, and one day when you are older, you must come to visit. �Nick.

Daniel made himself re-read the short note just in case he had missed anything. Nope, just the same three lines as the four or five other postcards Nick had sent over the past few years. Daniel shoved the card in his back pocket, not caring that he was bending it. He went to the sink, turned on the tap and got himself a glass of water, keeping his back to Shannon and ducking his head so she couldn't see his face, couldn't see how his hands trembled.

"Who was that from? That was a pretty beach," Shannon said.

"No one important," Daniel said in a quiet voice, keeping his back turned, angrily willing the hurt, the crushed hope away. He should have known better. He did know better, but the hope always surfaced every time he received one of those stupid postcards.

You're such a dummy, he chastised himself. He suddenly wondered if Nick even remembered how old he was. He would be eleven in less than a month�surely eleven was old enough to go for a visit, wasn't it?

*****

Daniel slowly paged through his father's journal, running his finger over the nearly illegible handwriting and the scrawled drawings. He had just celebrated his birthday that day. The Whittakers had ordered pizza for dinner, then taken him to see a movie. Shannon made him a lopsided chocolate cake, and she and Adam had given him a new jacket similar to the ones the older kids in his class were wearing, a pair of running shoes and gift certificates at his favorite bookstore.

Jessie had proudly handed him a colorful page of crayoned scribbles with a bow glued to the middle of it, and one of her teddy bears from her vast collection, informing him that he needed a teddy of his own. Daniel had pretended to Shannon and Adam that he was too old for the toy and had only taken it so he wouldn't hurt Jessie's feelings. When he went up to his room, he'd set the bear on his bed beside his pillow where he could see it before he went to sleep, surprised at how much the little girl's gesture had touched him.

Daniel found himself unable to express his pleasure at all of the gifts, at the effort they had made for him. At the sheer fact that they had even acknowledged his birthday�he couldn't even remember what he had done for his tenth.

At the same time, he didn't want it. He didn't want any of it. Didn't want to become attached. It was easier, safer at the places where they had let him come and go, hardly making an impression on their lives, or on his.

He pulled the photo of his parents from the back pages of the journal. His father's face was in near-profile, the shadows obscuring his features somewhat. His mother looked directly into the camera but her eyes were hidden by the light hitting her glasses, her hair concealed by the scarf tied over her head. Even in his only photo of them, they remained shadowed, hidden from him.

Did they know it was his birthday?

He slowly ran his finger over their image. Why did you have to die?

*****

Daniel turned his key in the door, his teeth chattering from the cold, his long hair dripping raindrops onto his face. He took a deep breath and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

He turned to see Adam standing in the hall, frowning at him. Daniel shrugged off his soaked jacket, hung it on the coat rack and stooped to take off his shoes, muttering, "Sorry, I'm late," hoping he could make a hasty retreat upstairs.

"Where've you been, Daniel?" Adam asked, still watching him, his expression inscrutable.

Daniel straightened, crossed his arms over his chest and tried to stop shivering. "I'm sorry. I went for a walk and lost track of the time."

"It's seven-thirty, pouring rain, and not to mention, dark outside." Adam pointed through the front window that was being drummed and washed by the insistent rain. "Your school called and said that you missed your last class and your math exam."

Damn, Daniel thought, feeling his heartbeat quicken. He'd forgotten all about that test but the need to get away, to just walk, had overtaken anything else. He had gotten on a bus and stayed on it until nothing looked familiar anymore.

Stepping off the bus into the outskirts of downtown, he had started walking, exploring. He'd ended up in a dingy used bookstore where the clerk sat watching a football game from a small, portable TV with tinfoil molded around its broken antennas. The clerk had paid no attention as Daniel entered, leaving him to read the old comics and magazines to his heart's content. He hadn't realized how late it had become until he stepped outside into darkness and cold autumn rain.

"I'm sorry," he said to Adam again, knowing there was no explanation he could offer. How could he explain the sometimes overwhelming need to get away? The need to distract himself from the sense of displacement that had become his way of life for so long now that he couldn't even remember a time when he felt he'd belonged anywhere.

Shannon rushed down the stairs, tearing her hand through her hair. "Daniel! Thank God. We were worried sick!"

Daniel backed against the wall, looking wide-eyed from Adam to Shannon, wondering what they would do to him. Would they send him back to the shelter? Would they punish him?

"We were ready to call the police," Adam told him. "Do you want to tell us what you've been up to for the past four hours?"

Daniel looked down at his feet, hiding his face and his turmoil. Even his socks were cold, wet and sticking to his skin. He swiped his hand under his nose and wiped the raindrops from his face. "I was just walking around, that's all."

"Daniel, you're too young to be walking around town on your own, plus skipping school? What was that all about?" Shannon asked.

Daniel shrugged miserably and wished they would either leave him alone or get it over with and punish him already. "I... I didn't think you... you would be worried," he said, his voice quiet, tentative. "I'm sorry."

Adam stepped closer to him, and Daniel flinched, his breath caught in his lungs and he instantly chastised himself for the display of weakness. What else did you expect them to do? he angrily told himself. Just take it and don't be a baby about it.

Adam stopped, startled by Daniel's reaction. Adam blinked, took a breath. His voice was soft when he spoke. "Did you think I was going to hit you?"

Daniel darted a quick glance up from behind his wet, tangled bangs. "I... I don't know."

Adam crouched down in front of him and spoke in a quiet, gentle voice. "Daniel, I would never hit you. Never. As long as you're in this house, you can be sure you will never be physically harmed by either of us, okay? Never. Do you understand that?"

Daniel swallowed hard, looking down at his damp socks again. He pinched the skin on the inside of his forearm to keep from crying. "Yes."

"Okay, then. Look, I'm hoping you know what you did was irresponsible, so we'll let it go at that. Just don't do anything like that again, and no more skipping school, all right?" Adam stood, stepping back from him.

Daniel looked up at Adam, surprised to be let off so easily.

Shannon gently squeezed Daniel's shoulder. "Why don't you go take a hot shower? You must be freezing."

Daniel nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat. He stepped past Shannon and escaped upstairs, finally remembering that it was safe to breathe again.

*****

He heard the crash, the screams, his own terrified voice sounding high and clear over the tumult. Other voices surrounding him, people rushing about, pushing past him. Saw them start lifting the shattered slab, searching. He didn't want to look, didn't want to see what they found, but he saw anyway.

"Mom, Dad! Mommy, no! Get out of there! Please, get out of there! NO!"

The sound of his voice tearing from his raw throat and his shoulder hitting something hard jolted him awake. He was on the floor, tangled in the covers, the blanket and sheets twisted around his arms and legs. Daniel had no idea how he got there, or even where he was, and fought to stave off the panic, the echoes and terror of the old dream still racing through his aching head. He heard his frantic sobbing breaths rasping in his ears, tried to figure out where he was.

He winced when sudden light seared his eyes, and he ducked his head, squinting.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" A man's soft voice startled him. He looked up, still disoriented, then recognized Adam, followed by Shannon.

Daniel tried to pull free from the covers, feeling his cheeks redden. "I�I'm sorry, I didn't... mean to wake you up." He was dismayed to realize that he was crying, his voice wavering.

Shannon stepped past Adam to come over to him and she knelt beside Daniel, helping him untangle himself. "Shh, it's all right. You have nothing to be sorry about. Everyone has bad dreams, sometimes."

"I haven't had one... in... in a long time. I'm sorry..." Daniel swiped his arm over his eyes, trying to stop the tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Daniel shook his head, biting down hard on his lip.

"Come on, let's get you back in bed." Shannon brushed the long, sweat-dampened hair from his eyes, then frowned. She laid her hand on his forehead for a moment. "Jeez, Daniel�you have fever! Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" She kept her hand on his shoulder as he got back into bed, sitting up and propping himself against the headboard.

"I'm fine," he whispered, trying to shrug her hand away.

"Adam, honey, can you get him some aspirin and a glass of milk?" She picked up the covers and arranged them over Daniel before sitting down beside him. "You're not fine. Is your stomach upset, too?"

Daniel shook his head. "Just a headache, and my... my throat hurts a little," he admitted.

"I'm not surprised�that's what happens when you walk around in the rain for hours," Shannon scolded, but her voice was gentle.

Adam returned from the bathroom, handed his wife a bottle of children's aspirin and set the milk on the nightstand. "Sorry, we're out of the grownup stuff."

"That's okay, this'll do. Thanks, honey�I got it from here."

Adam nodded and as he headed from the room he said, "'Night, Daniel. Think about having some good dreams now, huh?"

"I'll try," Daniel answered, keeping his eyes averted.

Shannon shook out four of the small, orangey-pink pills and handed them to him. He chewed them and took a sip of from the glass. The sweet mingled with milk taste made him feel about Jessie's age again. "Thank you," he said to Shannon, then pulled the covers further up, shifting in the bed, drawing his legs up to his chest.

"Are you going to be able to go back to sleep?"

Daniel nodded, but he knew that he wouldn't sleep anymore that night. He hadn't dreamed of his parents in nearly a year, but every time he dreamed of that day in the museum, he would always be afraid to fall asleep again. His throat felt tight, his eyes prickled with suppressed tears and he hoped Shannon would go away before he started crying again.

Instead of leaving, she drew him into her arms, holding him close. Daniel stiffened, wanted to pull away, but at the same time, the contact felt good, reassuring even. "What are you doing?" he quietly asked, feeling himself beginning to tremble.

"Is this okay? You're not too old for a hug, are you?" Shannon asked, leaning against the headboard and lightly rubbing circles over his tensed back.

"Um... I guess not," he said, inwardly cringing at the thought of being held, but the more Shannon massaged his aching skin, letting him feel safe in her embrace, the more he relaxed. The more he let himself feel every ounce of his illness and his heartache. "I miss them," he whispered against her shoulder, surprising himself with the admission.

"I know you do, sweetie." Shannon paused to hug him tighter.

"My dream..." he began. "I was... I was dreaming about the day they died."

"I thought it must have been something like that," Shannon said and started rubbing his back again, her motions slow, gentle.

"I saw it happen," he said, closing his burning eyes. He shifted in Shannon's comforting grip, started picking at the ragged skin on his thumb, trying with all his might not to give in to the too-near tears.

"I know," she said, smoothing back his hair, kissing him on top of his head.

"Sometimes I can see it so clearly. Sometimes I can't get it out of my head," he said, the words dissolving into quiet, helpless sobs. Daniel clenched his teeth, wishing he weren't such a baby. He was too old to be crying like this, but he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop the tears he had suppressed for so long. "Sometimes I think it might have been my fault."

"Daniel, don't ever think that," Shannon told him in a firm voice, tightening her arms around him when she felt his trembling increase. "There is no way what happened to them was your fault, do you understand?"

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the images and the terror of that day from his mind.

"Daniel?"

He nodded after a moment, then took a deep breath. "I�I'm starting to forget what they looked like," he whispered. "And I don't want to forget them."

"You won't ever really forget them if you keep a place for them in your heart. They'll always be a part of you, no matter what," she said softly, rocking him as if he were as little as Jessie, and Daniel let her, allowing her to offer him the comfort so long withheld, so long denied.

"Shannon?"

"Yeah?"

"I... I'm really sorry for what I did today. I didn't mean to worry you."

He felt her lips brush against the top of his head again. "Shh, it's okay. You're safe. That's all that's important, so don't worry about it. Next time, though, let us know where you are."

Daniel nodded, wiping his hand over his sore, tired eyes. "I don't know why, but I wanted to get away. Not from you, but just... away... you know..." he trailed off uncertain how to explain, but he felt as if he owed her that much.

Shannon nodded. "I understand. I remember that feeling. It's like you're tied down, trapped, and you feel like you can't breathe. Then when you do get away and you're finally free, you wonder if anyone will notice. Sometimes the worst happens and nobody does notice. But you know what, Daniel?"

"What?" he whispered, glancing up at Shannon, but she seemed far away, lost in reminiscences of her own. She saw him watching her, and looked down at him again.

"Now somebody does notice," she told him. "We noticed. Count on us to notice that you're here, and to worry about you when you're not. Okay?"

"Okay," he said after a moment.

"You're a pretty amazing kid, and it's time somebody took notice of that."

Daniel let out a derisive sigh and shook his head. "My last foster father didn't think so. He�" Daniel quickly cut off his words. He didn't know why he'd said that. It had just slipped out, before he could even think to stop it.

"What?" Shannon ducked her head to try to catch his gaze.

"Nothing. He just�" Daniel took in a short, quick breath. "He hated me. I don't know why, but he just hated me, he�he got mad at me a lot."

Shannon's features clouded with anger for a moment before she took a deep breath and looked at him again. "Did he hurt you?"

Daniel shrugged, his muscles tensing. "He... he was just... really strict," he whispered. He didn't want to talk about that anymore. To deflect from the conversation, he said in a quiet voice, "My grandfather didn't even want me."

"He was the one who sent you that postcard a few months ago, wasn't he?"

Daniel glanced at his wastebasket, long emptied since that day. He had torn Nick's card into tiny pieces and buried it under the other garbage in the can. He had regretted it an instant after he'd done it, but the action had given him a brief sense of satisfaction.

"Yeah, it was from him," he answered after a moment. "Except I'm supposed to call him Nick."

"Where did he send that card from?"

Daniel shrugged. "Belize, I guess. He travels a lot. Said it wouldn't be very good to have a kid tagging along, so he didn't want me around."

Shannon frowned. "Maybe he wasn't sure if he could properly take of you."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does matter," Shannon corrected, her voice a near whisper, her words like a secret shared between two survivors. "Daniel, your grandfather choosing not to take you in and your last foster father being a jerk have absolutely nothing to do with you and who you are."

Daniel looked down again. "I just keep wondering if... maybe if I had written to Nick more often, or... or tried harder, maybe he would have wanted me."

Shannon glanced down at him, saw him trying to take in her words, so she continued. "I can tell you've gotten pretty good at looking out for yourself, but don't ever lose the ability to care about the good people who come along, and letting them care about you, okay? I know how hard it is not having any stability in your life, but you've put up a big wall around yourself, and it's not good, sweetie. It might protect you from the bad stuff, but you miss out on a lot of really great stuff, too."

Daniel pulled at the blanket, twining the material around his fingers, uncertain whether he wanted Shannon to continue, or to leave him alone with what was left of his shattered defenses.

Shannon frowned, choosing her next words carefully. "I don't know if this is going to make any sense, but I'll give it a shot, okay?" She waited until he nodded. "I've found that the one thing you do have control of is who you love and who you choose will make an impact on your life, and how much of an impact you'll make on theirs. That is your unique gift�yourself, and how much of that self you give to the lucky people who get to know you. Even if it's just for a little while."

Daniel blinked against the heaviness of his eyelids, tried to process her words through the exhaustion and emotions coursing through him. His head felt heavy against Shannon's shoulder, his eyes aching, his headache a faint throb.

"It took a long time to figure that out, so trust me, it's true. Well, it worked for me, anyway�eventually." Shannon said in a quiet, almost sad voice and she looked across the room into memories, into lost families of her own. She laid her hand against Daniel's forehead again. Her hand felt cool and soothing against his skin and Daniel's eyelids became heavy, hard to keep open. "Close your eyes and try to get some sleep now," Shannon whispered. "I'll stay right here with you."

Daniel nodded once and allowed his eyes to drift shut. He felt Shannon shift against the headboard, making herself more comfortable, her arms securely wrapped around him.

The chalky-sweet taste of the aspirin lingered in his mouth, a taste that was strangely comforting. A taste of childhood; a taste he had nearly forgotten. His limbs were leaden, and he hazily felt Shannon stroke his hair before sleep took him once again. He knew that Shannon would be there to keep him safe and protect him if the dreams and ghosts of memories came back to haunt him.

*****

Sequor, sequimur, sequébar, sequébámur. He walked a half-block behind a small group of teenaged kids he knew were in his biology class, tuning out their giggles and intermittent happy shrieks. The sweater belonging to one of the girls slid off her bag and onto the sidewalk unnoticed behind her as the kids kept walking.

Daniel considered calling to them, then decided to retrieve the sweater instead. He jogged the few paces to catch up to them. Stepping beside the dark-haired girl, he shyly handed her the sweater, murmuring, "You dropped this."

The girl took the sweater, thanking him. Daniel fell back a few steps, his gaze fixed on the sidewalk and let them keep walking.

"Hey, you're in Jefferson's class, aren't you?" the girl turned to ask him.

"Yeah," Daniel looked up again, forced himself to catch up with the kids.

"How old are you, anyway?" she asked, staring at him. "You're kind of short to be in high school."

"I'm twelve�almost thirteen," he said, then cringed at how stupid and childish that sounded, and pushed up his newly acquired glasses. He was still getting used to them, and they always seemed to end up sliding down his nose. "I, uh... I skipped a couple of grades," he added.

"Wow, that's pretty cool," she told him. Daniel blushed and ducked his head when the other kids turned their heads to stare at him. "I'm such a dunce, my parents keep threatening to send me to summer school," the girl�Daniel wished he could remember her name�told him, rolling her eyes.

Daniel didn't know how to answer that, so he just kept walking.

"Hey, maybe the kid can help you with your homework," one of the boys grinned, elbowing the girl lightly. She scowled at the boy and elbowed him back.

Daniel was relieved when they neared his house. He let the older kids pass, and moved toward the lawn. "This is where I live," he said with a shrug, when the girl looked at him questioningly.

"Oh, okay. Well, we'll see you tomorrow. I can't believe they're going to make us dissect a frog!" She scrunched her face with disgust. "Yuck!"

"Yeah," Daniel said, wrinkling his nose. "It might not be so bad, though. Bye." He turned toward the house, stepped up the front stairs and let himself in, closing the door behind him.

"Daniel?" the voice greeted him from the dining room.

"Hi," he answered, taking off his shoes and jacket.

"A letter arrived for you today. It's on the kitchen counter."

"Okay, thank you," he called back and went into the kitchen to retrieve his mail. The envelope was decorated with yellow happy face stickers. Smiling, and careful not to damage the stickers, he tore open the thick envelope and took out the contents: a letter written on bright blue paper, some more stickers, a postcard of a camel sitting on a beach and wearing sunglasses, and a photo.

Daniel set the letter and postcard on the counter and picked up the photo. It was of Adam, Shannon, Jessie, and their new baby. Shannon held the red-faced, wrinkled baby in her arms. Jessie sat on her father's lap, grinning wide enough to reveal a gap-toothed smile.

He turned the photo over and saw the names scrawled in Shannon's now familiar handwriting: The Fearless Foursome�love Adam, Shannon, Jessie and Megan.

It had been almost a year and a half since the Whittakers had moved from New York to Seattle. Daniel remembered how Shannon had cried when she told him of Adam's transfer. They would have loved to take him with them, she had told him, but Daniel was a ward of the state of New York, and his grandfather was still his legal guardian.

The Whittakers had recommended friends of theirs to take in Daniel once they moved, and he only had to stay in the shelter for a few days until his new family was approved. The Petersons were a couple in their mid 40's, had never been able to have children of their own, and lived only four blocks away from the Whittakers, so Daniel wouldn't have to change schools again. This time, Daniel was able to meet and get to know his new foster parents before he had to go live with them, and he found them to be nice. Not as nice as the Whittakers he thought, but nice.

Standing in the Peterson's kitchen, Daniel set the down the photo and picked up Shannon's letter. She wrote the same as she had spoken�cheerful, chatty, with the odd moments of deep introspection. She talked of their new baby, Jessie's latest exploits and how much they had enjoyed having Daniel over to visit during his spring break from school. She also hoped that he could come again for a few weeks over the summer.

Just before they had left for Seattle, Shannon had given him a box to open. Daniel had unwrapped it with trembling hands, trying not to cry, but when he glanced up at Shannon to see her tear-streaked face, he gave in and allowed his own tears to fall. He pulled away tissue paper from a leather-bound journal, similar to his father's. Tucked inside the clasp was an old-fashioned ballpoint pen. He had looked up at Shannon, stunned. "Wow. Thank you."

"I thought it was time you had one of you own," Shannon explained. "Keep going," she urged, waving her hands impatiently.

Daniel sniffed, swiped a hand under his nose, then dug further into the box, taking out a big pad of stationery, envelopes and a book of stamps. He looked at them curiously, set them beside him and peered deeper into the box and smiled at the glossy, colorful image. He pulled out a stack of about twenty comic books�The Amazing Spiderman.

Shannon laughed at the expression of surprise on his face then leaned forward to ruffle his hair. "I heard from someone that you liked him. The paper and the stamps are so that you write to us, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise? Because I'm going to write you so much you'll get sick of me," she said, trying to sound light and cheerful, even through a face full of tears.

"I promise, and I'd never get sick of you guys," Daniel said in a soft voice. "I'll miss you."

"Oh, sweetie�I'll miss you, too." Shannon hugged him tightly, and Daniel held his breath, held back the tears that still wanted to come. She released her grip on him, but grasped his shoulders gently, looking into his eyes. "You're going to be okay, though."

He held Shannon's intense gaze, blinked back the tears, and hoped, wanted to believe that she was right.

After they left, he tried to remember Shannon's words about letting people get to know him and allowing himself to know them, to learn about them. He supposed it was just like learning a new language.

Not everyone sticks around forever, he reminded himself. The only thing that's forever is being dead, and he didn't want his sole refuge to be behind the dead anymore.

The Petersons were good to him, and Daniel gradually allowed his guard to come down a little. He realized that he had come to like them even if they were somewhat over-eager, not understanding his need to be alone sometimes.

He picked up the postcard, smiled at the picture and turned it over to see Jessie had written her name in lopsided and backward letters, along with a pink and black drawing of what he thought was supposed to be a ballerina. Tucking the postcard and letter back in the envelope, he looked at the photo still in his hand, touching the smiling faces of his friends. They were gone, but they were still connected to him. He had allowed himself to let them in and become part of his life, just long enough to find a soul who understood him. Someone who would always understand him.

"Daniel? We're eating dinner in about an hour, okay?" came the voice of Diane Peterson. "Does that give you enough time to do your homework?"

"Yeah, that should be fine," Daniel called back, placing the picture back in the envelope along with the rest of its contents. He tucked the envelope in the pages of his textbook, grabbed a handful of cookies from a jar on the counter and jogged up the stairs to his room. He took out the letter from his English book and placed it on his shelf in the nearly full cigar box filled with other cheery, colorful envelopes and photos.

He flopped onto his bed, opening his book, absently paging through it. He knew he could do this stuff in his sleep, so his mind was distracted. He leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled out the box hidden underneath. He took out one of the thin, worn comics, settling back against the pillow, figuring he could do his homework later, after dinner when the Petersons busied themselves with their hobbies.

It was hard to believe he had been with them for over a year�it was the longest he had lived anywhere in his life. It wasn't home�that was something he'd have to find on his own when he was old enough to make a place in the world for himself�but finally he felt safe, closer to happy.

He would be okay.

~finis~