The first time Eve had seen him—the man in grey—he had been standing across the street from her house. With his legs braced apart and his arms crossed, he had stood as still as a statue, just staring at her. Though her stomach had flipped, which was usually the first warning sign, she had ignored it and hoped he was waiting for a friend or maybe a ride.

         

          The next time she had seen him was later the same day when she had gone to meet Noelle at the bus. She had felt him before she had seen him. As she’d stepped out of the house and closed the door, she had noticed him leaning casually against the far corner of the porch. There had been no intensity like the last time, only a show of interest. Their eyes had locked briefly and she had seen even from where she stood that his eyes were a bright blue. His stare had been so unnerving that she’d turned and walked away. This time not only did her stomach flip, but she suddenly felt nauseous. That was the second sign.

 

          As the evening passed into night, Eve fought the urge to look out the window. He was still near—she could feel him. This was odd because she never felt the presence of a median until they were very close, usually within arm’s reach.

She peeked hesitantly over her shoulder. Nope. No creepy man dressed in grey standing in her office.

 

          She sighed, resting her head in her hands. What was going on? Medians at her house—this was a first. She had never encountered one outside the hospital. She had always believed that the fear of the unknown had kept them close to their bodies.

However, the man in grey was at her house, close to her child. At that moment the third and final sign became apparent—she was scared.

 

          Taking a deep breath, she tried calming her racing pulse. She was going to have to tell this median that she couldn’t help him. She didn’t merge anymore. Denying him what he wanted—what they all wanted—was the main reason behind her fear. Refusing a desperate soul usually ended up with them becoming violent. She hated that and this time she knew it would be worse. The man in grey must have incredible strength or she wouldn’t be so receptive to him. What would happen when she told him no? With the power he wielded he could cause a lot of damage. She stared at the computer screen as her stomach twisted into a knot.

 

          The last time she had encountered a desperate soul, she had been verbally assaulted and all she had done was look at the woman. The waitress had screamed in her ear during all three of her appointments at the hospital, calling her nasty, hurtful names. Of course, that was all the waitress had been able to do and the energy the waitress had given off hadn’t been anywhere near as powerful as the man in grey. God, she didn't want to deal with this new, stronger median, but the alternative was not an option.

 

          Eve went to bed still feeling the power of the man in grey. She woke when her alarm went off, feeling tried and cranky. She had woken throughout the night with the feeling that she wasn’t alone. Yet, each time she had sat up and turned on the light, nothing had been there.

 

          She showered, hopeful that it would help her mood, threw on blue dress pants and a cream turtleneck, and went downstairs to start Noelle’s breakfast. As she entered the kitchen, she stopped short when she saw him leaning against the counter. He was at complete ease, standing in her kitchen like he had been there before. All he needed was a cup of coffee and she would think he was an old friend stopping in to say ‘hi’.

 

          As she stood in the doorway, Eve stared him in the eye. “You’re not welcome in my home. You have to leave.”

 

          He raised his eyebrows, amused by her demand.

 

          “I can’t help you.” Eve glared at him. “You need to go.”

 

          He pushed away from the counter, moved closer, displaying his greater height.

 

          She tried not to notice the small holes in his grey shirt, or how each one of them had a dark inky stain circling them. Was he… No! She couldn’t see the dead. She had never seen the dead. That talent belonged to her mother and grandmother. Although, Gran had told her, that could change at any time.

 

          Crossing her arms, she let him know without words that he didn’t intimidate her—which was a total lie—and for several minutes they stood staring at each other. Eve wanted to turn away from his intense blue stare but she didn’t.

 

          Finally he spoke. “I need your help Evening.”

 

          Eve felt her mouth drop open. She turned from him and began preparing Noelle’s breakfast. He knew her name, her real name. Her heart pounded in her chest as her hands shook. She had no idea who this man was or had been, she had never told a median any personal information and she had never told anyone, needy soul or otherwise, her real name.

 

          She focused on breakfast with the hope he would give up, but when she turned to the fridge to get the milk, he was still there watching her. She jumped when she heard a door close. Noelle was up and moving around.

 

          Panicking, Eve broke the silence and whispered. “You have to leave.”

 

          “I need your help, Evening.”

 

          Her eyes grew wide. “You can’t stay here. Please go.”

 

“I need you to put me back in my body.”

 

          “No. I can’t.” She glanced towards the door, praying Noelle was slow in coming down this morning.

 

          “I was told otherwise.”

          “Whoever said that is wrong,” she cried. “I can’t help you.”

 

          One minute he looked mildly annoyed and the next his face was a mask of rage. He stalked towards her, his blue eyes glowing as if beams of light were behind them.

 

          Startled, Eve staggered back but the damn counter blocked her. He stopped just before her and lowered his face so they were nose to nose. “If you can do it for six year old Jimmy Chen and for Debbie Wilcox and for Emily Spencer, you can do it for me.”

 

          How did he know all of this? With her eyes wide, she moved her way along the counter, desperate to get away. “They…” Condensation floated between her parted lips as she spoke, thanks to the sudden drop in temperature. “They were…different.” The surrounding cool air caused goose bumps to prickle her skin.

 

          He closed the small gap and loomed over her. “Stop moving.”

 

          Closing her eyes, Eve prepared herself, tensing her muscles, waiting for whatever might happen next.

 

          There was an unnatural silence until she heard him curse, then breathe out in a long frustrated sigh. “Open your eyes.” Eve did as he asked and stared at him. “Different how?” He demanded quietly.

 

          “You’ve been shot.” She didn't see her breath this time when she spoke.

          “Yes.” He agreed. It wasn’t like he could hide it. “How is that different from the others?”