The Outcast

A Starman Story

By: Yvette Jessen

The lone figure stood on the bridge. The sun had already begun to descend behind the tall trees, which surrounded the small park. Peter Harding stood alone, a bag of breadcrumbs in his hands, and the ducks swimming in the pond below. As the people walked through the area, they could hear the teenage boy speaking as he tossed handfuls of bread into the water.

"Hello, my friends," Peter spoke, and when the ducks began quacking, he continued to speak, "I know, I wasn't here yesterday." He held up his bag of breadcrumbs proudly, "but I have the bread from yesterday too. I wanted to come, but my father needed my help at the store." His voice carried a note of pride in it; it wasn't very often that Joe Harding asked his son to do anything.

As he spoke, the people walking by shook their heads, but said nothing. They knew of Peter, and the word around the town was that he was the only 16 year old still in the 8th grade. Most of the people also knew of Peter's parents, his father was known to own 'Hardings Hardware', one of the most profitable businesses in town. His mother was known for her volunteer work and her activities in the local church. Maggie Harding was one of the best altos in the church choir and she was always asked to sing solos during the holidays.

But, Peter was different. Although he could boast a picture perfect family, and had a lot of talent when it came to playing the violin, he had no friends his age, and most of the kids and teenagers picked on him and treated him as an outcast. Even his teachers seemed indifferent towards him and he had always been placed in special classes at school.

He threw the last pieces of bread over the bridge, and once it was gone, the ducks swam away. Peter watched sadly as they left. He knew that the ducks couldn't replace the feeling of having a real friend, but pretending that they were his friends seemed a better option than feeling sorry for himself.

As he turned to go, he could see the sun had disappeared behind the trees near the small pond. He wandered over to where the swings were and sat down in one. He dug around in his backpack and found two granola bars and a bag of birdseed. He pulled out one of the granola bars and laid the backpack on the ground by his feet. As he opened the granola bar and took a bite, he sighed contentedly. His favorite time of the day was during dusk when he could go to the park alone and wait for the first star peek out. He knew that if he saw this particular star, then he could make a wish and it might come true.

His wishes were always the same, "God, if you can hear me, please send me a friend." He repeated those words when the first star appeared overhead.

More stars began to appear and he looked up and saw two figures approach him. It must be a miracle; he thought when he saw that one was another boy who appeared to be about his age. He couldn't see their faces very well, because the light was poor, but he could see the boy as the two people passed under a nearby lamp. The boy looked as though he was about to collapse from fatigue and the man beside him appeared to be the only thing able to keep the boy on his feet. Peter could also see that they both carried duffel bags, and he concluded that they must be new to the area, as he had never seen either of them before.

Peter closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, the two people were gone, and he was alone again. He figured they had simply walked through the park to reach the nearby hotel. He wiped his hands over his eyes and stood up. When he looked down at his hand, he could see that it was wet from his disappointed tears. He dried his hands on his jeans, and once again wiped his hand over his eyes. He knew that he couldn't go home crying, his father wouldn't understand. Being a sensitive boy, he knew that he couldn't tell his mother about his problems because she had been troubled by something for the past three weeks. Peter had a feeling that something was wrong with his mother, but he didn't dare mention it.

Peter's mind drifted to his mother. She was the only person who really understood him and his problems. His father was completely unapproachable and he didn't dare mention any of the troubles to him. Now it appeared as though his parents had suddenly switched roles. His unusually strong mother now appeared weak and powerless over the smallest of things and his father, who was normally soft spoken, had suddenly become a take-charge kind of guy.

Peter managed to eat the rest of his granola bar, and stuffed the empty package inside his backpack. After a few minutes, he managed to regain control over his emotions, dried his eyes with a tissue, blew his nose, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked slowly out of the park. His worries for his parents concealed beneath a look of determination.

o O o

Paul Forrester and his son Scott made their way into the small community of Garrett, Colorado that evening and it came as a great relief for Scott, who had been suffering from a cold for the last few days. Paul checked them into a small hotel and after a hot shower; Scott collapsed on his bed and fell asleep.

Paul was concerned for the welfare of his son, but as he watched his son sleeping, he thought that maybe Scott would be OK for at least a little while. This body needs a little fresh air, and something to eat. Since coming back to Earth, he enjoyed the opportunities to eat many varieties of foods, and he knew that even though his son was sick, he needed something to eat to maintain his energy if he and Scott had to leave there immediately.

His mind began to drift as he reached for his jacket. He tucked the key to the room in his pocket, and reached for a piece of the hotel stationary and began to write a note to his son. He figured that if Scott did wake up and he wasn't there, then the note would explain that he was only going out for a short period of time and would return a little later.

As he walked outside, his mind started drifting back to their narrow escape in Nebraska earlier that month. Scott had been enrolled in a school there, and things seemed to be going pretty well. Paul had managed to obtain a low profile job there working as a house painter's assistant. This job was a far cry from the normal jobs he got with magazines and newspapers, which hired him because of the real Forrester's reputation as a photographer. If George Fox and the FSA hadn't shown up there as unexpected as they had, Paul and Scott probably would have stayed where they were until Scott fully recovered from the cold.

After their escape, they were forced to camp out for about a week, and during this time, a terrible rainstorm swept through the midwestern states, forcing both of them to camp out in the rain. Scott's cold was getting progressively worse and that night it landed them in Garrett.

Paul walked through the parking lot and looked out towards the park they had walked through to reach the hotel. He had seen a young boy about Scott's age there as they made their way to the hotel, and he was curious of whether or not the boy was still there. Since it was still early, he decided he'd check.

As he walked between a clump of trees and towards the swing set, he noticed that the boy he had seen earlier was no longer there. His eyes fell on the swing where the boy had been sitting and approached it. When he reached the vacated swing, he noticed a small silver object on the ground. He reached down to pick it up and when he had it in his hand, he noticed that it was a key attached to a silver key chain, which was shaped like a star.

Seconds later, he turned around and Looked towards a small group of bushes. Someone was hiding there, and Paul had a feeling that whoever it was that had lost their key chain had come back to retrieve it. He held up the object and Spoke softly in the direction of the bushes. "Is this yours?" Paul asked extending the object towards the bushes.

The same boy Paul had seen occupying the swing earlier crawled out from the bushes and Looked at Paul questionably. After a few seconds passed, he reached one hand out towards the key chain; the other gripped the strap of his backpack tightly.

Paul Took a step towards the boy, but the boy backed up. "Are you afraid of me?" He finally asked, his hand still extended towards the boy with the key chain dangling from his fingertips.

The boy nodded.

Paul remained stationary but he whispered to the frightened boy, "Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." The object dangled before the boy's eyes, and as Paul Spoke, he hesitantly reached his hand out towards Paul's outstretched hand.

When their fingers brushed, Paul could feel sadness envelope him. "Are you OK?" he asked once the boy had the key chain and had stuffed the object in his pocket.

The boy backed quickly away from Paul, but when he heard the gentle voice, he glanced up at the man standing before him, a surprised look hiding his initial fear. No adult ever spoke to him unless they had to, and this man seemed different. But, Peter was afraid to even hope that this man was different, and he turned away quickly.

Paul imitated the gesture, but he did not understand it. As he turned to walk away from the swings and back in the direction of the hotel, he stopped when he heard the teenager's quavering voice, "thank you."

Paul turned around and smiled, "you're welcome."

The boy ran away and once he disappeared through the trees, Paul made his way back in the direction he had come in; his quest for food was forgotten. When he entered the room and saw his son still sleeping, he knew that his questions about the boy's mysterious behavior at the park would have to wait until morning.

o O o

The next morning, Paul woke up to hear his son groaning in his bed. "Dad, are you there?" Scott moaned. "I feel dizzy."

"What is it?" Paul asked.

"I don't know," Scott's face looked pale, and Paul's concern was by this time mounting. "My face feels hot, but I feel cold."

Paul rested his hand on the forehead of his son. Upon feeling that his son had a fever, he grabbed the blanket off the other bed and covered him. "I've got to go and get some medicine for you, but I don't know what to get."

"Something against fever, Dad, just tell them I feel hot, and they'll help you." Scott said weakly holding out his hand to prevent his father from coming closer. "I don't want you to get sick though, so don't come too close."

"Don't worry about me, Scott," Paul said softly, grasping his son's outstretched hand with one hand and brushing aside Scott's hair with the other. He stood up abruptly, went over to the sink, and grabbed a washcloth. He stuck the washcloth under the faucet, and once it was wet, he took the small piece of cloth, wrung it out, and carried it over to his son. He folded the small cloth in half and placed it on Scott's forehead. Scott flinched upon feeling coolness, but after a second, he relaxed.

Paul watched as Scott closed his eyes once again. Quickly, he grabbed the key from off the top of the television. "I'll be back as soon as I can, just rest a little." At the door, he glanced back towards his son before he stepped outside.

He closed the door behind him and walked quickly in the direction of the center of town. In the square, he spotted a drug store and headed towards the door. Once inside, he approached a long counter and saw a man who appeared to be in his 60's. Paul spoke to him. "Can you help me, I'm looking for some medicine for my son?"

The man took off his glasses, rubbed them with a small handkerchief, put them back on, and sought communication with Paul, "What's wrong with him?"

"Fever, I think, his face is hot, and he's complaining about dizziness," Paul offered.

The man came from behind the counter and grabbed a small box off of a nearby shelf. "This should help," he offered, "Your son probably caught the flu that's been reported in the area." He handed the medicine to Paul. "This should take care of everything, and make sure he gets plenty of rest and lots of liquids."

Paul nodded and pulled out his wallet to pay for the medicine. "Thank you." He handed the pharmacist some money.

The man rang up the medicine and spoke to Paul, "My pleasure, you new here, I've never seen you in town before?"

"We're just passing through," Paul said simply accepting the small box and sliding it inside his pocket.

"Well, give your son at least three days before you continue on your way." The kind man offered returning Paul's change. "This medicine tends to make people tired, but it's the best thing I can offer you without a prescription. Just be sure that you follow the dosage instructions on the slip of paper inside the box."

Paul nodded, thanked the pharmacist once again, and left the shop.

As he made his way back across the courtyard, his eyes fell on a small old-fashioned gazebo and when he reached the opposite side of it, he noticed four boys. One of the boys he remembered from the night before at the park. He approached the group, and as he did so, he could hear their loud voices.

"Hey dumb dumb," said one boy with a laugh. He pushed Peter onto the ground and Paul reached into his pocket subconsciously grabbing his sphere as the boy continued to speak. "We roasted one of your friends last night." The boy started to laugh, and a second boy attempted to swing one of his fists at Peter, who covered his face and backed against the bushes. The three boys laughed.

"Why don't you say something, Stupid?" Shouted the third boy, and grabbed the backpack from Peter and began to dig around in it. As he dug around, he began to throw the contents on the ground. Finally, he pulled out a small book, "Well, lookie here, Dummy's learning to read." He opened the book and began flipping through the pages.

Peter looked up and when his eyes fell on the book, he reached his hand out to the boy who was holding it.

Upon seeing Peter's frightened eyes, Paul rushed over to where the boys were standing. As he got closer, he realized that the three boys teasing Peter couldn't have been much older than Scott. He had a feeling that it would probably do little good to get involved, but he didn't want to see Peter get any more hurt than he already was. When he saw the tears streaming down the boy's cheeks, he stepped between the boys and Peter. "Why are you doing this?" he asked one of the boys who had grabbed the backpack and had been digging through it.

"Why?" The boy holding the book sneered, "Because he's a nitwit."

Paul shook his head thinking that he'd have to ask Scott later what a 'nitwit' meant. He had the feeling that there was nothing nice at all about being called such a name, and extended his hand out towards the boys who held the backpack, "What do you want with his things?" He asked as he took a step closer to the boys.

As Paul came closer, one of the boys turned and ran away without looking back. Paul looked at the two boys who remained, and when they didn't say anything, Paul spoke again, "Why do you harm those who are different than you? Is this how you would define strength?"

The boy holding the backpack threw it to the ground and walked away without answering Paul's question. The third boy looked at the man confronting him. Then he turned around to see if his friends were nearby. When he saw no one, he turned around and looked at Paul once again. He handed Paul the book. "You don't seem so strong now that both of your friends are gone."

"At least I can defend myself without getting the grown-ups involved," he muttered as he walked away.

Paul looked up wanting to say something, but then thought better of it. There was no point in saying anything to the boy. He and his friends didn't seem to care. His attention reverted to Peter, who was still on the ground, his face in his hands. Paul could see Peter's shoulders were shaking as the boy cried and he wished he could do more to help him.

He remembered when his son had to deal with bullies, but he could sense that this boy was different than his son, and maybe for this reason he needed someone to stand up for him. Paul reached for the objects strewn on the ground and put them all back in the backpack. He dropped to his knees and rested his hands on Peter's trembling shoulders.

"They're gone," he said gently. "You're safe now."

The boy looked up at Paul, his face still wet from his frightened tears. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped his eyes and nose.

"What's your name?" Paul asked softly.

"Peter," came a small voice.

Paul nodded and helped Peter stand up. Once they were on their feet, he reached down and retrieved the backpack. This he handed to Peter, "I'm Paul." He smiled gently as he introduced himself.

Peter nodded and accepted the backpack.

"Weren't you the boy that was in the park last night?" Paul asked.

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I sometimes go there to see my friends," he stammered looking at the ground.

Paul smiled and scanned the area to make sure the three boys were gone. "Friends are very important, aren't they?" he offered.

Peter nodded. "Where is your son? Why isn't he with you now?"

Paul looked at Peter, "You know about him?"

"Yes, I saw him when you were going through the park last night." Peter answered honestly. "You're staying at the hotel, aren't you?"

"Yes," Paul answered, "He's still there, I had to get him some medicine, he's been sick for a few days," he offered, his hand resting in his jacket pocket where the medicine was.

"I kinda thought he was," Peter offered honestly, "because he looked really tired last night."

Paul nodded affirming Peter's words, "yes, he was very tired." His eyes came to rest on Peter, noting his downtrodden expression. It was the same expression he carried the night before, and the same sensation he felt when he touched the boy's hands and shoulders. "I get the impression that you were very disappointed when we didn't stop and at least say hello last night." Paul said gently, and then added, "I'm sorry."

Peter looked up at Paul once again, "How'd you know?"

"I could see it in your eyes," Paul answered honestly. He looked around the area where they were standing and saw a woman standing off to the side of the gazebo. When his eyes met hers, she approached them and once Peter turned around, he smiled upon seeing her.

The woman carried a gentle smile on her face. "Are you OK, Peter?" She asked the boy, and once he nodded, she looked back over at Paul. "My name is Maggie Harding, I'm Peter's mother." She paused, "I saw everything, but was too far away to do anything about it. I want to thank you for looking out for my son."

Paul shrugged his shoulders not saying anything. Now that Peter was safely with his mother, he needed to get back to the hotel, and see how Scott was doing.

"I've never seen anyone treat Peter so kindly," she offered weakly.

Paul looked into her eyes, and nodded, "I'm sorry," he offered gently looking from Peter to Maggie. He felt genuinely bad for the boy and his mother, but he was also thinking about his son. Finally he put his concerns into words. "I'd like to stay and talk to you, but I have to get back to the hotel, my son is waiting and he's sick," he explained.

"What's wrong with him?" Maggie asked. "Maybe I can help."

Paul shook his head, "I don't know exactly, he has a fever. The pharmacist said he probably has the flu that's been going around." He pulled the medicine out of his pocket and showed it to her.

"Mr. Bradley is pretty good about detecting these things," Maggie offered referring to the pharmacist. "This medicine is really good for flu symptoms. I give it to Peter when he's sick."

"I hope this will help," Paul mumbled. He shuttered remembering when he was sick and had to depend on the skills of a human doctor to cure what could have killed him. He was grateful that Scott could handle colds and flu's, but still it concerned him when Scott was sick, and the dangers of Fox only added to his fear.

"It should," she said simply. When her eyes once more sought communication with Paul, he had turned around as if to walk away. She began to follow him, "Let me come with you, maybe I can help." She nodded to her son, who began to follow her.

Paul was grateful that he had been able to find some help for Scott when they reached the hotel room. He slid the medicine back inside his jacket pocket and grabbed the key and opened the door. If he had been alone, he'd have simply touched the knob to open the door like he normally did. When they entered the room, Scott was coughing pretty heavily and it seemed as though he was getting sicker by the minute. Paul slid out of his jacket, threw it on the chair, rushed to the bedside, and laid his hand on his son's forehead. "Scott, I'm here."

Upon contact with his son, Paul sighed deeply. Scott was much warmer than he was earlier that morning, and he was losing hope on whether the medicine was going to help as much as he had been told.

Maggie watched the events take place, but after seconds passed she grabbed Paul's jacket and retrieved the box of medicine from the pocket. She opened the box, and removed the bottle. Without reading the inserted pamphlet, she removed the lid, poured some into a small plastic measurer, sat the bottle on the sink, and walked over to the bed. She sat down, and bade Scott to sit up. "I have your medicine, Scott," she whispered, some of the assertiveness returning to her voice.

Scott looked at the stranger sitting by him but was too weak to fight her. He looked up at his father, who simply nodded, and he allowed her to help him sit up. She reached for the small plastic cup and handed it to him.

Once Scott had taken the medicine, she helped him lay back down and covered him with the blanket. As he drifted off to sleep, Paul stood looking down at his son. He knew that he only had enough money for one night at the hotel, and with Scott so sick, he was afraid of what could happen if he had to take him to a camp ground rather than leaving him in a soft warm bed. He realized that if he moved his son, Scott would probably get sicker. This was exactly what happened when they had fled the small Nebraska town.

His eyes fell on Peter who had been watching him curiously. Somehow, Paul got the feeling that Peter had the ability to read his thoughts. Paul's own ability to detect emotions only intensified the strange feelings he had when he was around Peter.

As Paul tried to figure this out, Peter had walked over and began to whisper to his mother. Maggie's eyes widened slightly, but after a few moments, she nodded and her eyes sought Paul's.

"You shouldn't be staying in a hotel," she said gently. "Scott needs to be in a place where he can get some rest."

Paul looked at Peter who simply nodded in concurrence to his mother's words. He opened his mouth to speak, but Maggie's words cut him off.

"Why don't you and Scott come stay with us? I mean I know we're practically strangers, but I think it'd be better if you guys weren't totally alone. I mean, I understand if you have other plans."

"No, we don't have any other plans," Paul answered, gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you."

Maggie nodded, "I'll get my car," she said gently. She looked over at her son, "Peter, stay here with Paul and Scott," she instructed. She opened the door, and left the room. Once she closed the door to the room, she ran back in the direction of the gazebo in the town square.

Paul turned away from the closed door after she had left. "This was your idea, wasn't it, Peter?" Paul asked. When he received a nod, he smiled, "Thank you, we're both grateful."

Peter shrugged his shoulders, and looked up at Paul, "I only did it because I hope that Scott would want to be my friend." Peter looked over at Scott who was sleeping peacefully.

Paul smiled, "I'm sure he would, Peter."

Peter looked at Paul, hope evident in his face, but then suddenly the hopeful look disappeared and he finally looked back up at Paul. "Do you think I'm dumb?" he asked.

"No," was Paul's simple answer.

Peter looked down at his hands, "I must be the world's biggest dummy."

"Why do you believe that? Is it because of what a couple of bullies say?" Paul asked. He and Peter sat down at the table.

Peter shook his head, "I talk dumb, and I'm still in the 8th grade." His expression carried a look of hopelessness and misery. "I'm 16 years old, everyone talks about me, and says that I am dumb. The other boys beat me up, call me names, and treat me like I don't have any feelings. You saw what happened in town this morning."

"I saw three boys picking on someone who had no way to defend himself. The way you speak doesn't determine whether or not you're intelligent," Paul said gently. He rested his hands on the boy's shoulders. "I think people put too much emphasis on how people say something rather than what they say."

"Really?" Peter asked not quite sure if he wanted to believe Paul's words.

Paul nodded and smiled. "It's true, one day the people will open their eyes and see for themselves what a special person you are. "

"I don't think that will ever happen," Peter said. "At least not here."

"Don't be so sure about that, Peter," Paul said gently. "Sometimes people fear those things they may not understand."

"Is that why you tried to talk to me at the park last night when you found my key chain?" Peter asked.

Paul laughed; "yes." came his simple answer. "I think that everyone has something special to give. I believe that you have done that in offering to have us in your home. But, I have to ask, aside from Scott and you becoming friends, why did you want to help people you don't know?"

"I didn't want you to be sad." Peter said. "I thought that maybe it would make a difference and it would be better for Scott to sleep in a warm comfortable bed rather than at a campground."

Paul looked at the young man, his assertions about him accurate. Peter did possess the ability to telepathically communicate. Only trouble was; the boy had not yet realized it. "Helping Scott is really important to you, isn't it, Peter?"

"Yes, I want to have a real friend," Peter said. His gaze fell to his lap once again. "I hate being alone and not having anyone to talk to."

"But, what about your friends at the park?" Paul asked.

"You mean the ducks?" Peter asked, "Those aren't real friends, Paul, they are only there to eat the bread crumbs, then they swim away. I've been fooling myself into believing that ducks can be my friends."

Paul rested his hands on Peter's arm and felt the emotions rush in. Peter's thoughts were so well defined that Paul could read them in the emotions he felt emulating from the boy. He really understood Peter's feelings far more than he could ever know. Being the only one of his kind on this world, he sometimes experienced those same feelings of isolation.

"Is he gonna be OK?" Peter asked after a minute or two of silence had passed. He could still see the mark of concern on Paul's face.

Paul sighed deeply, "I hope so."

"You're worried, aren't you?" Peter asked. When Paul nodded, he continued to speak, "Don't worry, my mom will take care of him. She helped me when I had bronchitis last year. She gave me lots of soup, and there was even this medicine that tasted like grapes which helped my throat." Peter rested his hand on Paul's arm and smiled encouragingly.

Somehow Paul found Peter's words to be encouraging and he stood up when he heard someone knocking. He opened the door and Maggie walked inside.

"My car is in the parking lot," she offered and grabbed the two duffel bags, which were sitting by the door. "You need to check out, and we can get up to the house." Paul picked up the camera bag, followed Maggie outside, and dropped it next to the other bags in the trunk of her car.

Back inside, Maggie and Paul helped Scott out of bed, and practically carried him out to the car. Peter opened the door, they laid Scott in the back seat, and Peter climbed in next to him. He smiled, as the other teenager's eyes opened.

"We're going to my house, Scott, and my mom's gonna help you get well," Peter said.

Scott nodded weakly and closed his eyes.

Paul went to pay the bill for the night.

Back outside he climbed into the front seat of the car. Maggie started the engine, and drove out of the parking lot. About ten minutes later, she parked the car in front of a country style house; she got out of the car, and rushed to the front door with the key. Once out of the car, Paul opened the back door and Peter got out. Together the two of them helped Scott out of the car. Once everyone was inside, Maggie showed them to the guest room, and Scott was able to lie down. After Paul and Scott were settled in the room, Maggie left, and closed the door leaving them inside.

During this time, Peter had returned to the car to get the bags and bring them inside. He took them to the guest room, knocked on the door, and handed the bags to Paul when the door was opened. Once the bags were delivered, Peter joined his mother in the kitchen.

When he came in and sat down at the table, Maggie had opened a can of soup and poured the contents into a bowl. "Mom, you know what?" When Maggie said nothing, Peter continued to speak, "Paul said that I'm not stupid like they all say."

Maggie put the bowl of soup in the microwave and turned to face her son. "He's right, Peter, you're not stupid." She smiled gently, her face beginning to show strain of the morning's events. "I've been telling you that for years, why is a stranger's words more convincing than your own mother's?"

"Because he's a stranger, I guess," Peter offered, sheepishly trying to ignore the sudden change in his mother's facial expression.

"I understand," Maggie said gently. "I think you are smart enough to know that a mother is always partial to her children. But, even if I wasn't your mother, I would say that you are very intelligent."

Peter smiled brightly, but finally asked his mother the question, which had been bothering him most of the morning, "Do you think Dad will be upset because we asked them to stay?"

Maggie sighed deeply, "He'll probably be concerned, but let me handle him, OK?"

Peter nodded and looked up as Paul entered the kitchen, "Scott's asleep." His face looked strained from worry and he sat down at the table. Maggie stood up as the timer went off on the microwave and pulled the bowl of soup out. She placed the soup on the table in front of Paul and pulled a couple slices of bread from the package, which had been sitting on the counter. These she lay on a small plate and placed it on the table. She finally grabbed a spoon from inside the drawer and handed it to Paul

"You need to eat something," she said gently. "You don't need to get sick as well, that would do both of you little good."

"Thank you," Paul accepted the spoon, and after tasting it, he began to stir the soup the way he'd often seen Scott do.

"Where are you guys heading, Paul? You're passing through town, I assume?" Maggie asked. "I've never seen you around Garrett, and Joe and I are pretty actively involved here."

Paul nodded; "yes, we're just passing through." was all he said.

"I see," Maggie offered. "From the looks of you guys it seems you've been on the road for quite awhile."

"My work makes us travel a lot." Paul said softly, hoping that the conversation would not continue in the direction it had gone in. He continued to stir the soup.

After a few moments had passed, Maggie nodded. "I don't mean to pry, Paul, but I get the feeling you aren't telling us the whole story."

Upon seeing Paul's eyes widen, Peter spoke, "Paul's a photographer, Mom. He and Scott have to travel so he can get assignments."

Paul glanced up from the soup. How much did Peter really know about him, he wondered. The spoon fell from his hand and landed in the bowl with a thud as he began to wonder just how much he had projected to the teenager.

"I know you're worried, Paul, but if you don't eat, it will only make matters worse." Maggie's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Seconds passed and finally Paul once more brought the spoon to his mouth.

Maggie stood up, went to the fridge, and opened the door. Once she found what she was looking for, she brought a large jar of peanut butter to the table. This she sat in front of Peter, and then grabbed two more slices of bread, a plate and a knife. Peter reached for the jar of peanut butter, and the knife and began to build himself a sandwich.

Moments later, the door opened and slammed. "Maggie, I'm home."

"Excuse me for a minute, Paul, that's my husband." Maggie stood up and made her way into the living room and greeted Joe.

"What's going on here, Maggie?" Joe's voice could be heard in the kitchen. "The curtains in the guest room are closed. It's the middle of the day, is there someone here?"

"Yes," she said simply. "We have company for a few days, Joe,"

"Who is it?"

"Paul and his son Scott," Maggie explained, "Peter and I met them today in town. Scott's been sick for a few days, and we've already got him in the guest room. The curtains are closed because he's asleep."

"You know these guys could be wanted or something, Hon," Joe said, a deep crease forming above his eyes. Maggie knew this look; Joe was concerned for her.

"I know you're concerned, but Paul defended Peter against the Williams boys this morning. You know how awful those kids are to Peter, and it was Paul who stepped in and got those bullies to leave." Maggie said defending her actions. "Besides, Paul's son is sick, and I couldn't just leave them at the hotel without anyone to help them."

"I don't like this, Honey. I ran into the sheriff at the shop, and he's been putting out calls all morning." Joe said in a hushed tone, "he mentioned that the feds have been out on a rampage since last Friday morning. Sheriff Smith didn't say who it was the feds were after, but he advised us to be careful and not to speak to strangers."

Maggie nodded, "I can understand why you are concerned, but I think Paul and Scott are OK. If you had seen Paul look out for Peter like I did, then you wouldn't be the least bit worried about them being here."

"OK, Hon, if you're so certain that everything is fine, I won't argue with you about it. I guess I'd better go in there, introduce myself to our guests, and get a cup of coffee. It's been a long morning." He followed Maggie into the kitchen, and greeted Paul, "Hi, Joe Harding." He extended his hand towards Paul and smiled.

"Paul Forrester," came the soft answer as Paul shook hands with Maggie's husband.

Joe pulled a chair and sat down at the table, "How ya doing, Pete'?"

Peter nodded his mouth full of peanut butter.

Maggie brought Joe a cup of coffee and sat back down at the table.

o O o

George Fox made it into town early that evening, and checked into the same hotel where Paul and Scott had stayed. In his room, he sighed deeply, finally some time away from Washington, from the project, and time to spend in nature. I know I should do this more often, he thought to himself as he dropped the small overnight bag he carried. He had purposefully left all of his files back in Washington, which was, for the first time in 16 years astounding. Normally, he lived for his work and a vacation wasn't something he took very often. His choice to leave Washington came as a complete surprise to not only Wylie, his assistant, but also to General Wade, his superior.

As much as he wanted to admit that this was only a vacation, he had made the extra effort to notify the law enforcement in this county just in case Forrester and his son were in the area. Realistically, he didn't expect too much feedback from the sheriff. This was his time away from the project, and he really needed the time to concentrate on what was coming of the project he had devoted 16 years to.

The end finally came a little over a week ago, when he had traced the Alien and his son to a small town in Nebraska. Seconds before a successful capture, Wylie had managed to botch up the entire operation. George Fox was livid, but he still couldn't forget the words his "supposedly" dumb assistant had said, "The world isn't in danger with Forrester or his son, it's in more danger with the greenhouse effect." Wylie had had enough, and George Fox was beginning to reach that point himself.

He remembered the time that Forrester had made the light show in California so this Sheriff wouldn't look stupid in the eyes of the townspeople. He shook his head, but it was creature from outer space there and who really knew how much danger this being was to people? He sat down on the bed and sighed. His interviews with everyone the alien had met had also turned up a dead end. Apparently the only person who was afraid beyond anyone's recognition was himself. Even Wylie seemed supportive lately about the idea of just leaving the alien and his son alone.

A silver object caught his eye on the floor near the foot of the bed. He got down on his hands and knees and began groping around for it. He gasped when he saw that it was a small silver marble that was lying under the bed. Grabbing it, he held it in the palm of his hand and began rolling it around. It was about the same size as the spheres the alien and his son carried. No, it couldn't be, he thought, but what if it is? A smile spread across his face, he couldn't deny it, even without scientific proof, he felt like he was holding the alien's power in his hand. Maybe this vacation was going to turn into the moment he had been waiting for, for the last 16 years. There was only one thing he was going to change this time, and that was that he was going to try to talk to Paul Forrester rather than at him.

His hand came to rest on his chest right over his heart. This is where the most important question he had lie. He couldn't consciously believe that the alien had saved his life, but his medical records reminded him of something out of the 'Twilight Zone'. Suddenly, he had his health back, and the only understandable answer was that the alien had done something to help him after escaping from 'Building 11'. He must have done something, he was thinking. He rolled the object around his hand, maybe he saved my life with this ball bearing, and if he comes back to get it, I can ask him.

Maybe there was something to be said for the saying "You can attract more bees with honey than with vinegar." He stood up and grabbed the Styrofoam cup off the bedside table and brought it to his lips. Maybe this time, he could catch Forrester off guard, and perhaps reconcile with the alien who seemed to not only be here for good, but who also seemed to have the uncanny ability of eluding him and his operatives. He rolled the object around in his hands and continued sipping his coffee.

o O o

The following morning, Paul woke up to see Scott sitting up in bed reading a book. Paul smiled relieved that his son looked much better. He turned towards him and tapped the book he was reading.

Scott laid his book down on his lap, looked up and smiled.

"Good morning," Paul said as he crawled out of bed. "Are you feeling better?"

Scott nodded, "Yeah, a little bit. I woke up a little disoriented, but then Maggie brought me some eggs and toast for breakfast and explained what happened yesterday, and then Peter brought the book. They're really great people."

Paul nodded, "Yes, they are," he paused before speaking again. "I was really worried about you, though."

"Me too, I don't want to know what was wrong with me," Scott offered.

"If I had known exactly what was wrong, I would have taken care of it," Paul said. He pulled his sphere out of his pocket and held it between his thumb and forefinger. Seconds passed and he returned it to his pocket.

Scott frowned, and after practically throwing the book across the room, he jumped out of bed and grabbed his jeans. Once he dug in his pocket, his face paled, "Mine's gone, Dad."

Paul pulled his sphere from his pocket closed the door, and concentrated on the object in his hand. After seconds passed, the sphere returned to its natural state, and he returned it to his pocket. "You're right, I think it's still back at the hotel."

"How could I be so stupid and leave it there?" Scott asked still standing in the middle of the room.

"You weren't stupid, you were sick," Paul said. He buttoned his shirt. "I'll go back to the hotel this morning and see if I can find it."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Scott asked, but immediately began to feel dizzy again, and he covered his face with his hand.

Paul reached out, grabbed his son's arm, and helped him back into the bed. "No, you're not fully recovered." He grabbed his jacket and put it on, "Besides, I can handle this alone, you stay here."

He opened the door, and saw Peter standing on the other side. "Good morning, Peter," he offered.

"What was that?" Peter asked looking at Paul. "You did something in there, I could see the blue light under the door."

"What?" Paul asked fully knowing what would come next but attempting to throw the line of questions off track.

Peter shook his head, "I don't know, I saw some weird light under the door, and then it was gone." Paul's smile disappeared, but then Peter spoke again, "I guess it was nothing," he said noticing Paul's distressed look. "I thought I'd bring Scott another book since he's feeling better now."

"Yes, thanks to you and your mother," Paul said softly and moved aside so Peter could go in.

Peter entered the room as Paul made his way down the hall and into the living room. "Good morning, Maggie," he offered, when he saw the woman standing in the room, an iron in her hand.

"Good morning, Paul. Are you hungry, I could make you some breakfast?" Maggie offered setting the iron down and looking up at her guest.

"No that's OK, I need to go back into town, though. I left something important at the hotel," he said.

"Do you know how to get there?" She asked.

Paul nodded, "I think so."

"I'll tell you what, I have to go downtown and get some groceries, why don't I take you to the hotel, drop you off, and then pick you up on the way back?" Maggie turned the iron off and smiled.

"That's very kind of you, Maggie." Paul offered then asked, "are you sure this isn't any trouble?"

Maggie sat the iron down on the ironing board, and removed the apron she was wearing. She bent down and unplugged the iron and slung the apron over the ironing board. "No, it was either I go this morning or we eat sawdust for lunch." She laughed self-consciously at her own joke. She walked down the hall and knocked on the guest room door.

Peter opened the door, "Yeah, Mom."

"Paul and I are going downtown to get some groceries, OK? We'll be back in about an hour or so." Maggie said. "If you boys go out, leave a note for your father, OK."

Peter nodded, and Maggie returned to the living room.

He closed the door to the room and went and sat on the bed with Scott. Peter looked at Scott for a second and then back down at his hands.

"What's up?" Scott asked seeing the troubled expression in the other teenager's eyes. Like his father, he could sense something very special about Peter, but he didn't really know what it was.

Peter shook his head, "I don't know."

Scott looked at Peter, "You know, it must be really a pain to be different in a small town."

Peter nodded, "Yeah. The other boys all call me dumb, because of the way I talk, but I'm not, I'm just not like they are."

Scott looked at Peter intently, "believe me, I understand what it feels to be different."

"You? But there's nothing out of this world about you," Peter objected.

"Maybe, maybe not. You can never be too sure." Scott said, all the while thinking about his alien father and inwardly smiling. Peter's phrases somehow reminded him of his father's speech patterns and his innocence. He could only conclude that maybe that is the reason he felt a kinship with Peter.

"Do you ever feel like an outcast?" Peter wanted to know.

Scott nodded, "Yeah, I think everybody does now and then."

"I feel that way all the time," was all Peter said.

"I'm sorry." Scott offered sincerely. He really didn't understand why, but he had a feeling that before he and his father would leave this town, he'd be telling his new friend everything.

o O o

Maggie let Paul out of the car in the hotel parking lot and he walked in the direction of the hotel lobby. After she drove away, Paul walked inside the front lobby and approached the reservation desk.

"Excuse me," Paul spoke to the woman. "Is there a lost and found here?"

The woman looked up and reached for a small carton, which was sitting on the floor. She placed this on the desk and without a word went back to reading her newspaper. Paul was left with the box.

He began to dig through the box and when he did not find the sphere, he slid the box back across the desk. "It's not here," he spoke.

The woman looked up from her newspaper, "Sorry, Mister, that's all we got. What are you looking for, anyway?"

Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket. "A good luck charm, it looks like this."

The woman looked at him skeptically, "Aren't you a bit too old for a good luck charm?"

"It belongs to my son," Paul answered.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, I just finished the night shift," the woman offered, smiling weakly. "I'll tell the maids to keep an eye out for it, if you want to leave a number where you can be reached."

"No, I'll check around outside, maybe he dropped it in the parking lot."

"OK, suit yourself." The woman went back to her seat and grabbed the newspaper once again. Looking up once more, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No thanks," Paul said as he made his way back outside. He walked slowly towards the door of the room where he and Scott had stayed hoping all the while that no one would be inside the room. I should have asked the lady in the lobby, he thought, but if he placed too much emphasis on it, then she would probably start asking questions that couldn't easily be answered. He knew that he'd have to take a chance and try to get the other sphere by going inside the room.

He looked around to make sure no one else was in the area and placed his hand on the knob. The door clicked open and he sighed deeply when he saw someone was asleep on the bed.

He entered the room and closed the door. Approaching the bed, he wondered if he could get the sphere back and be out of the room before the person woke up. As he came closer to the bed, he could see the silver of the sphere clenched tightly in the fist of the person sleeping.

Paul's eyes widened and he gasped when he saw that the person sleeping was George Fox. He crouched down beside the bed and was level with Fox's eyes when they suddenly opened. In his surprise, Paul fell back on his bottom and hit his head against the corner of the table. He could feel the dizziness overwhelm him and rather than standing up, he backed a few inches away from the FSA agent.

Fox threw the covers aside and crawled out of bed. Grinning impishly, he looked down at the Starman still sitting on the floor and holding his head in his hands. "You know, I had a feeling you would be back, Forrester," Fox said with a smile in his voice, "I just had no idea that you would break into a hotel room to get your magic marble."

Paul stumbled back towards the door still holding his throbbing head in his hands. With or without the sphere, he knew that his freedom was more important and he had to get out of the room. He tried to stand up, but the impact that the table had on his head made it too painful to stand up and he fell back down on the floor. Eventually, he managed to crawl over towards the door and used the doorknob to help him up off the floor. Once he was on his feet, he turned the knob in a helpless attempt to get out of the room.

Before he could pull the door open, Fox rushed towards the door and pushed it closed with all the strength he had. Paul's hand was still covering the area where he had hit his head and at this moment he realized that Fox had him trapped inside the room.

Paul reached into his pocket in hopes of retrieving the sphere he carried.

When Fox saw the silver of the sphere, he held up his hands in exasperation. "Look, can't we just talk?" Fox finally Spoke, his voice sounded tired. "I won't do anything to you, Forrester, I just want to talk to you."

"I have tried to talk to you Mr. Fox," Paul whispered, "but you never listened to me. Why should I believe that you simply want to talk to me now?"

"Because, It's the truth," George Fox Spoke trying to keep the usual edge out of his voice. "Something happened in Nebraska, and I started to think about everything that has happened over the last few years. Please, I'm telling you the truth." He reemphasized.

Paul's hand moved from his head outward toward the man who had tormented him and his son for the last 16 years, but right before he was able make contact with George Fox, the FSA agent subconsciously backed away. Once Paul noticed Fox's retreat, he returned his hand to his head, and eventually, slid down to the floor and was left sitting up against the closed door. Finally, after an awkward moment, he looked up at his tormentor.

Fox, still holding the sphere in his hand, looked down at the man against the door. "Here, do something for your head, Forrester, it looks like you're in great pain." He dropped the sphere in Paul's hand. But, instead of healing the bruise on his head, as Fox expected, Paul quickly stuffed the sphere in his pocket.

Fox could hardly believe that he actually gave the sphere back to the alien, but when Paul did nothing with it, Fox became a little agitated. "Why didn't you heal your head? You're capable, right?"

Paul nodded, "Yes, but I don't want to frighten you. It seems whenever I do something weird around you, I frighten you."

"Who said I was frightened?" Fox fired back.

"You backed up away from me when I reached out towards you. Someone who isn't afraid wouldn't have backed away." Paul said softly. "You're afraid of me, even after I have told you that I won't hurt you."

Fox's expression hardened, "maybe I'm still wondering if I can trust you."

"You gave me the sphere back. I don't think you would have done that if you didn't trust me," Paul returned. "If I was going to destroy you, don't you think I would have once I had the sphere in my hand?"

"You're speaking in digressions," Fox objected. "I want to know why you didn't cure yourself after I gave you your power source." Fox's temper was beginning to flare up again and he tried to keep his voice steady.

"I can do it later," Paul answered, still not certain if he could really trust the actions of his adversary without the contact he had attempted earlier. Finally, he sought to make eye contact with Fox, "Why? What made you want to talk rather than interrogate me?"

"Who said I did? I still want to know why you're here. I just figured that I could probably get the answers I want without having to repeat what happened at 'Building 11'." He looked at Paul intently.

"Mr. Fox, you know I can't tell you what you want to know. The things I have told you, you didn't believe." Paul said. By sheer will, he stood up and opened the door. "Why can't you just accept the fact that I am here solely to be a father to my son and that I won't harm anyone?"

"Listen, Forrester, it has taken a lot of thinking to help me conclude that maybe I put more emphasis on this case than necessary." Fox was fighting for control and his voice began to rise in pitch and intensity. "I just want to understand," George Fox looked at the alien, "I just thought that if we talked..." His voice trailed off when he realized that Paul was no longer standing there and that he had slowly walked out of the room and made his way back in the direction of the center of town.

George Fox stood in the open doorway as he watched Paul's retreating back. He wanted to call out to him, but decided that the best thing he could do would be to close the door and get dressed. Maybe trying to talk to the alien was a big mistake, he thought, maybe the only way to get the answers he needed was through intensive interrogation. He shook his head, no, it was my damn temper, if I had kept my cool, and then maybe he would have talked to me.

There had to be a way to resolve this without getting into that kind of thing. He had willingly returned the sphere to the alien, and rather than feeling angry about it, he felt relieved. Maybe that action alone will persuade Forrester that I really do want to talk to him, he thought.

He closed the door and turned away. I know I deserved that, but there is so much I don't understand, he thought to himself. He started packing his belongings, but stopped. The two fugitives would probably leave town today, and I am on vacation. He tossed the overnight case in the corner of the room. I reserved this room for a week, and I am going to stay the week. If Forrester and the boy are going to be leaving, let them. Fox suddenly remembered the heart attack he had at 'Building 11'. He was becoming more and more convinced that the alien had saved his life. Of all the things he learned through his training, one of the biggest lessons was to know when you've lost a battle and to give up.

o O o

Paul was standing near the town center. Fox is in town, he knew that within a short period of time, the entire FSA would be descending on this small town, and he wanted himself and Scott to be long gone when that happened.

Maybe I should have tried to talk to Fox, Paul thought, but he knew that he was frightened, and fear makes people react irrationally. Fox had returned the sphere, but he wondered if it was a trap or if the FSA agent was serious about letting them go. This uncertainty loomed over his head, and without the chance to touch the hand of his aggressor; Paul was left with a number of unanswered questions.

Seconds passed, and he saw Maggie approaching him, she and her family helped us, and eventually, I will have to tell her something. Peter's telepathic abilities would eventually not offer his parents the certainty that they wanted. He remembered the day before when Peter mentioned his job, and once he looked at Maggie, he realized that eventually she would be confronting him about why they're on the road. He sighed deeply, and slowly walked over towards the gazebo where she was standing.

Seconds passed, and Maggie looked up. Upon seeing him, she walked quickly over to him. "What happened to you?" She asked, once he reached her and she had seen his injury. She reached her hand out towards his forehead.

Paul shrugged not sure what he should say. He knew that she would be asking why he and Scott were leaving, and he didn't know how he was going to explain this choice to her or to Peter.

Maggie led Paul to the car, and after they packed the groceries in the car, she got in and started the engine. "You guys seem to live dangerously, " she offered as she drove back in the direction of the house. When she pulled the car up their long driveway, she cut the motor, turned to Paul, and Spoke, "I want to know exactly what's going on. You go to pick up what you left at the hotel, and you come out Looking like you were in a wrestling match. This may sound quite obvious, but are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Maggie, if I even attempt to explain what happened to you, then you would be dragged into our problems." Paul answered. "I can't do that to you. It wouldn't be fair to you or your family."

"Paul, I want to help you, and so does my son, but I'm confused about this whole thing." Maggie said softly.

Paul opened the door but turned back to face her, "I'm sorry, Maggie, but I can't explain this. The best thing would be if we leave." He got out of the car and closed the passenger side door.

Maggie scrambled out of the car, and began to follow him. "Please, just tell me something, I want to help you, like you helped Peter. If you would at least tell me something, maybe I can help."

Paul shook his head, "Maggie, there's nothing you can do, Scott and I have to try to get along on our own. We didn't mean to inconvenience you or your family. We have to leave, immediately. I'm sorry."

As he walked towards the front door, Maggie spoke again, curiosity getting the better of her. "Paul, did you get what you had left at the hotel?" She wondered if what he had left at the hotel had anything to do with what happened to him after she dropped him off there.

He nodded; the confrontation with George Fox was still fresh in his mind.

As Paul was walking up the stairs, which led to the front door, Maggie reached out and grabbed his arm.

Upon feeling her touch, Paul's eyes widened, he turned around, and faced her. "I think we should talk," he said softly, and when her eyes met his, she swallowed hard but managed to nod.

She led him across the driveway, and into the small barn, which was situated not far from the house. Once they were inside, she grabbed a lawn chair and unfolded it. She sat down in the chair and waited until Paul had unfolded a chair too. She sighed deeply; her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Are you afraid of me, Maggie?" Paul asked gently.

"Should I be?" She asked in a small voice.

Paul Shook his head, "No, you have nothing to be afraid of."

Maggie swallowed hard, but finally found her voice, "You don't have to tell me anything, but if you guys leave, then Peter will be alone again." Maggie looked up at Paul, misery showing in her face. "You and Scott are the only friends Peter has, and I have a feeling it is within your power to help him. He's my son, and I don't know what I can do for him." She rubbed the tears from her eyes and reached for a tissue.

Paul Looked at Maggie, "You're scared of something you have no control over."

Maggie nodded.

"Why?" Paul asked. He grabbed hold of her hands wondering if the feelings he experienced earlier were real. When he felt the same thing curse through him, he nodded as though he understood why it was so important to her that he and Scott stay there. He looked deeply into her eyes.

Maggie shook her head rapidly, pulled her hands away, and attempted to brush the tears away. "I just think that hearing good things from a friend is more important than a mother trying to reaffirm it. In fact, Peter said so himself."

"How long have you been sick, Maggie?" Paul finally asked putting the emotions he felt from her into words. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

"How did you know?" Maggie asked feeling a shiver go through her when he touched her. She pulled away from him and looked at him suspiciously.

"I can sense it." Paul tried to begin. "I have this ability and I believe that Peter does too."

"What ability?" Maggie asked.

"I think Peter has the ability to sense and detect emotions." Paul said. "I don't think he is aware that he can do this, and unless someone were to tell him, he would probably go on being able to do this without knowing or understanding why."

Maggie nodded not sure she wanted to know something else that made her son different from the rest of the boys in Garrett. "If he has this ability you speak of, should he know about it?"

"No, he would have to learn it on his own," Paul said gently. "My son has this ability as well, but it is latent. It means that in time, he will come to understand and accept what it is about him that sets him apart from the other people."

"But, Scott isn't different, he's a normal teenage boy," Maggie argued. "Peter has been battling feelings of isolation since he was little, and it is not getting any easier for him. The boys still treat him like an outcast. You saw what happened yesterday in town." Maggie was beginning to lose her composure once again and she reached for her purse, hoping to find a tissue.

Paul reached over and grabbed her hands again distracting her from her quest for a tissue. After a second, he spoke again, "Peter doesn't know about your health problems, does he?"

Maggie shook her head, "no, and I ask that you not speak to him about it."

Paul sighed deeply, "Well, based on what I have told you, Maggie, he may already sense something is wrong. Just as I was able to sense something when I touched your hands."

Maggie looked as though she had been struck and pulled her hands once again away from Paul, "How is it that both you and Scott have this ability, and people like Joe and I don't?"

Paul swallowed hard; he knew that answering this question would expose himself and Scott. "Is the answer really so important to you?"

"I don't know," Maggie said weakly. She paused for a moment, and then spoke again, "I've got Cancer, Paul. The doctor has said that I have maybe two months left." She looked at him once again, misery evident in her features, "I couldn't bring myself to tell Peter about it just because he's so sensitive about things, and we've always been very close to each other. With me gone, I don't know what will happen between him and Joe."

Paul looked at her again, "Does Joe know?"

Maggie nodded, the tears continuing to stream down her cheeks. "He and I were together when the diagnosis came out, and we agreed that we weren't going to tell Peter until later. He's had enough trouble fitting in here and he and Joe have always had a rocky relationship. You and Scott are like the miracle he's been praying for."

"And you think that as long as we are here, Peter will be happy regardless of what happens to you?" Paul said softly, trying to make some kind of sense of the emotions he felt when he touched her hands, "I don't think that Peter would want to replace you, you're his mother and new friends can't replace the love and nurturing a mother can give."

The tears continued to stream down her cheeks and she groped in her purse once again for a tissue. When she couldn't find one, she started wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. "Do you think I don't know that?" She asked bitterly.

Paul sighed deeply, but eventually he nodded. He wanted to answer her question, but was unable to offer her any consoling words. Remembering when Julie Radin had cried in front of him, he stood up and kneeled down in front of Maggie. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried. The fear that he felt coming from her was overwhelming, but he remained there.

After a few moments, he swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, "We'll stay for a couple of days, if it would help." He paused, "but to be fair to you, Scott and I are in trouble and I don't think it would be appropriate to try to explain everything, but we wouldn't hurt anyone and if you want us to go, we will."

She shook her head breaking the embrace, "No, for Peter's sake, please stay. If you leave, he would only be able to conclude that you and Scott didn't really care about him." She stood up, folded the chair back up, and leaned it against the wall. She turned away from him, opened the barn door, and made her way towards the car to retrieve the groceries, which were still in the trunk.

"I think that you should tell him what you told me. He needs to hear it from you," he said as she walked across the lawn towards the house. "Scott and I would have to eventually leave Garrett, and it will likely be before the week ends."

Maggie nodded, but turned back around, and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "I'm afraid," was all she was able to say.

Paul nodded, "I know." I am too, he added silently to himself. His thoughts continued to return to the confrontation he had with George Fox back at the hotel. Fox knew that he and Scott were in town, and it'd only be a matter of time before the FSA would come to this town and capture him and his son. When he looked over at the woman standing next to him, he had a feeling that they were doing the right thing. But, as he followed her inside the house, he had a sinking feeling about the entire situation. Maybe Fox will believe that we are leaving, and move on, he thought to himself, but he didn't believe it.

o O o

Inside, Peter was playing some music for Scott on the violin. Scott sat up in the bed, "Wow, you're really good at that," he offered. "I used to run track, but I have never really been any good with music. How long have you played?"

"About six years," Peter said. "Most people don't like the violin, but I always liked it. I think my dad was kinda upset that I didn't want to play sports. I'm not very athletic."

"I don't think my dad really understands sports," Scott said honestly.

"My mother and I are both really into music," Peter said. "She's in the choir at the church. I get to hear her sing every year for Christmas, and it's really great. She's probably gonna sing this year too."

"That's really cool, Peter," Scott said.

"Are you and your dad gonna be here for Christmas?" Peter asked.

"I don't think so, that's five months away, and we have to constantly travel around so my dad can find work." Scott said honestly. "I wish we could hear her sing, though," he added noticing the sad look cross his friend's face.

"She sings like an angel," Peter said sadly, "Everyone in town says so, too."

"Wow, you really have a musical family, Peter. That's so great, all I can play is the radio." Scott grinned sheepishly at his friend.

Peter laughed as a knock interrupted their conversation; he sat down his violin, and went to open the door. Paul stood on the opposite side. "Hi Peter," he whispered.

Peter nodded, "Is my mom in the kitchen?" He asked as he moved away from the doorway so Paul could enter the room.

"Yes, she's unpacking the groceries," Paul said.

"I'd better go help her," Peter turned to Scott. "Lately she's been kinda sick, and I don't think she should be working so hard." Peter grabbed his violin and walked out of the room. After he was gone, Paul closed the door.

"Did you find the sphere?" Scott asked once Peter had left.

"Yes," Paul answered handing the second sphere to his son.

Scott put it back in his pocket. "Man that's a relief, I don't like not having it with me. I feel disconnected with you, and that's scary for me."

Paul nodded; he understood this feeling very well. He finally looked at his son, "We need to talk."

"What happened, Dad, you look awful?" Scott asked noticing the injury. Throughout all of this, Paul still hadn't repaired the damage to his forehead in the hotel room.

"Fox is in town, I almost got captured when I was at the hotel. He is now in the same room we were in." Paul answered. "He had your sphere, but after I hit my head on the table, he gave it back. His behavior was odd, he spoke to me as though he wanted to talk to me, but when I tried to make contact with him, he reacted in fear."

Scott looked horrified and crawled out of bed, and began packing his belongings. "I don't trust him one bit. He has set traps to catch us before, and this is probably another of his attempts. Dad, we should pack and get outta here."

Paul shook his head, "We can't, not yet. There's something else that's happened."

"But, you just said Fox is in town?" Scott objected. "We should leave right now." Scott grabbed his duffel bag and started stuffing his belongings in it.

Paul nodded, "I know, but there's more, it's about Maggie." Paul sat down on the bed, "She's very sick, Scott. Like Stella Forrester was."

"Did she tell you that?" Scott asked.

"In part, but I touched her hands, and I could feel it. She told me some things about it, and I told her we'd stay a few days." Paul said sadly. "It was like when I touched Stella and could sense she was dying."

Scott looked at his father still taking everything in, "Is Maggie dying, Dad?"

Paul nodded, "Yes."

"I take it Peter doesn't know about her being sick?" Scott said.

Paul shook his head, "No, she said that she and Joe will tell him later."

"Did you tell her about Fox?" Scott asked.

"No, I wasn't sure how much I could tell her about him without telling her everything," Paul answered. "It seems to me that she has enough on her mind and if I did tell her something about why Fox is after us, she'd be afraid." Paul took a deep breath; "The other thing is there was something different when I touched Maggie, Scott. I know what's wrong with her, and I know I could fix it with the sphere."

"You mean you could cure her from a terminal illness?" Scott was amazed. "Then what's stopping you from doing it? Aren't you the one that is always talking about fixing things if you know what's wrong with them?"

Paul contemplated his son's words, but remembered Julie once more. But she was blind and she believed that Paul was a healer. Paul finally put his thoughts into words. "Remember how Julie reacted when I healed her burn? That's why I can't do it, at least not right now. If I told Maggie that I had the ability to make her healthy, then she may reach the same conclusion as Julie did."

"I don't think so, Julie and her family were pretty religious, and she thought you were like Jesus. I think that Maggie and Peter would accept you at face value." Scott objected. "You can't in all fairness believe that everyone who sees you use the sphere will react like Julie did."

"I know, Scott, but I'm not sure, at the moment that telling Maggie is such a good idea." Paul said.

"What are we going to do, Dad?" Scott asked.

"I really don't know what to do. Since Fox is here and he knows we are too. Then chances are he won't leave town until he has some sort of proof that we are gone. If we do stay, it means that we have to try to stay away from town. We are at a greater risk staying here, but if you had seen Maggie's face..." Paul's words trailed off.

"Maybe we should tell Maggie and Peter the truth," Scott offered, "if they know, maybe you can cure Maggie, and we could leave guilt free."

"Are we really prepared to tell them the whole truth, though? I mean I want to be able to leave here 'guilt free' too, but is that the way to do it?" Paul said evading the issue with Peter. Paul felt the need to talk to Peter alone, and try to find out everything the boy knew about him and Scott.

"I don't know," Scott answered. "I think if it was me, I would cure Maggie and then blow this bird." He grinned sheepishly when his father glanced over at him and his eyes widened.

"Strange," Paul offered, "usually you are the one who doesn't want anyone else to know the truth. Why is it that you are now willing to tell these people?" he asked curiously.

"I think it has something to do with what Peter told me earlier, he said that he didn't see anything out of this world about me. I guess I figure that maybe he would feel a bit better about who he is if he knew that someone else also has to deal with being different as well," Scott answered. "You even said something once about me being proud of who I am, so I just thought that it would help."

Paul nodded, "There's something else, if we're going to stay in Garrett, I need to find a job, but with Fox here, this may prove to be more difficult. We're almost out of money."

At that moment, there came a knock at the door. When Scott opened it, Maggie stood at the other side. She held a cloth in her hand, "Hi, how's your forehead, Paul?" Her voice was soft indicating that she was still a little nervous about what he might say.

Paul accepted the cloth and smiled, "It's OK." He wiped the area above his right eye where he had hit himself. "Thanks."

Maggie nodded and rubbed her hands together, "Listen, Peter's in the kitchen helping with lunch, and I thought maybe you two could help us a little. I thought that it'd be nice if we got some things together for tomorrow. I was thinking maybe we could go to the park and have a picnic."

Paul's face went pale, but he answered affirmatively. "Sure, Maggie, that sounds nice." His gaze fell on Scott who shook his head. He knew what his son was thinking, and he gave him the 'trust me' look.

Maggie left and Scott looked at his father skeptically. "Are you nuts? You just said yourself that we shouldn't go near town, and now you want to go to the park with them for a picnic."

Paul remained silent. Rather than offer an answer to his unusual behavior, he left the room and walked down the hall towards the kitchen. Scott was left alone trying to sort out everything that his father had said and done.

o O o

The following afternoon, after they had packed up their lunch, Paul and Scott followed Maggie and Peter down the long driveway leading towards the road, which would lead into town. Maggie had opted to them walking because the distance between their house and the park was not too far, and there was no place to park the car except for the small parking lot adjacent to the hotel.

As they walked, Paul made his way over towards where Peter was walking alone. He was hoping that he would have a chance to speak to the teenager alone and concluded that he would have a better chance to do so before they reached the park.

The first thing Paul realized about Peter was that he seemed to be deep in thought about something. When he tugged on Peter's sleeve, the boy didn't say anything to him, but rather only seemed to acknowledge Paul's presence with a nod of his head. He continued to walk as though he was ignoring Paul, but when he suddenly felt a sensation as though Paul had asked him a question, he turned his head. "Did you say something?" He finally asked Paul.

"No," Paul answered. "Why?"

"I thought I heard you ask me a question," Peter offered. When Paul didn't offer any answer, he shrugged his shoulders. "I could have sworn that I heard you say something. Maybe, I'm just imagining things again."

Paul remained quiet, but after a few moments passed, he decided to try again and sent another telepathic message to Peter, this time he projected to the boy that he was glad that Scott had found a friend in him.

Peter stopped walking, turned and faced Paul again. This time he said nothing. Paul why are you doing this to me, he asked himself. Seconds passed by and Peter sensed a return message coming back to him from Paul. Peter looked at Paul, wonder in his eyes.

Paul simply nodded, continuing a silent communication with the teenager. Don't be afraid, he projected to the boy, you have a talent which I sensed the first time we met.

Peter looked at Paul, this was real, and this man was communicating with him using projections. He looked around to see if his mother was in the vicinity, but she and Scott were about three blocks ahead of them carrying the large picnic basket. He looked back up at Paul, and backed up a couple of steps. "This time I know you said something, but it wasn't like a normal conversation."

Paul nodded, "Yes, we were carrying on a conversation. I've sensed that you had the capabilities of projecting your thoughts. I've sensed that about you since the first time we met."

Peter nodded trying to take everything in that Paul had said. At that moment, however, both of them heard a woman's screams and Peter froze, "Mom," was all he whispered. I knew something was going to happen, he thought.

Paul looked at the boy a little surprised, but in a split second, he had grabbed Peter's arm and the two of them ran as fast as they could in the direction of the park. Paul didn't know how this could have happened, but right as they heard the scream, he had received a projected call for help from his son.

o O o

George Fox was out for an afternoon walk. He had made his way to the park when he saw a woman, and a teenager arrive. As he reached a clump of trees, he recognized the boy; it was Scott Hayden. Rather than approach the two people, he waited to see if Forrester was going to show up and simply watched from behind the trees to see what would happen next.

Two shabbily dressed men approached the two of them with their hands out. "Do you have any spare change?" one of them asked. Fox walked away from the trees and somewhat closer to them. As he approached the meadow where they stood, he could detect the unmistakable stench of alcohol from the two men. About three feet from Scott's back, he could see the woman shaking her head, and when he was able to see her eyes, he could see that she was afraid.

"I don't believe you," one of the men was saying, and he grabbed for Maggie's purse. She pulled with all her strength until the second man grabbed the upper part of her arm and she winced in pain. The first man pulled her purse away and started digging through it.

Taking an opportunity, Scott reached out and grabbed the purse from the man. In doing so, he situated himself between the two men and his friend. Once he had the purse in his hand, he returned it to Maggie.

The first man's attention diverted to Scott, and he began to push the teenager. Scott could detect the alcohol on the clothes of the two men, and he could tell they were both drunk. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the picnic basket off the ground and used it to act as a barrier between the two men and Maggie. Using the sides of the basket, he shoved it against the chest of the man pushing them backwards. This proved fatal as the second man pushed the teenager away and reached out towards the woman, who screamed and backed away.

Scott glared at the men and reached in his pocket and gripped his sphere. Through the contact with his sphere, he called his father. Dad, we need your help, where are you? He was so intent on concentrating that he didn't move until he heard a loud splash. He opened his eyes to hear Maggie scream, and to see the two men running off with her purse. Eventually, he turned around and could see Maggie, in the lake, thrashing about.

Maggie couldn't swim, and she didn't realize how close she was to the lake's edge. She backed up once again, lost her footing, and fell backwards into the lake. She screamed again as the two men took off through the bushes, brushing past Fox. He remained concealed by the trees, but continued to observe the events taking place.

Scott stood paralyzed and watched Maggie flounder around in the lake for a few seconds. Then without thinking, he took off his jacket, tossed it on top of the picnic basket, and dived into the lake. As he swam towards the almost drowned woman, he sent out another desperate call to his father for help.

George Fox watched Scott pull the unconscious woman out of the lake. Upon seeing her face, he came out from behind the trees and made his way towards the two of them. He didn't care if Scott saw him or not, all he thought about was that in his training for the FSA, he had learned CPR, and he had no idea if Scott had had training in lifesaving. About three feet from the lake's edge, he stopped when he saw Paul Forrester and another teenager running towards Scott and the unconscious woman. He looked up and made eye contact with Paul. He backed slowly away from group, but continued to watch the dramatic events from behind the clump of trees.

Once Paul reached Scott and Maggie, he kneeled down beside her and reached inside his pocket. When his eyes fell on his son, he noticed that Scott's face was pale and he held Maggie's head in his lap. "Dad, she swallowed a lot of water," Scott said, his voice trembling. Fox could hear the fright in the teenager's voice but remained where he was and watched.

Peter grabbed the hand of his mother as tears began to stream down his cheeks. "Mom," he began sobbing, as he looked down at his mother's body. "Paul," The boy looked up at the man, his lips trembling, "You have the power, I know you do! Please do something."

Paul pulled his sphere from his pocket and held it over Maggie's still body. He didn't have any time to loose, and at this moment, he realized why it was he and Scott had come with Peter and Maggie to the park. He'd have to ask Peter about it later. Right now wasn't the time to contemplate what had happened. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on Maggie's chest and concentrated on the sphere.

Peter finally opened his eyes and looked up to see Paul deep in concentration and his mother bathed in blue light. His mouth opened, but no words emerged. He maintained his grasp on Maggie's hand and when he heard her cough up the water from the lake, he sighed with relief.

George Fox continued to watch from his hiding place as Paul used his sphere to save the woman's life. He continued to watch as the woman opened her eyes and Paul put the sphere back in his pocket and helped her to sit up. As Scott wrapped his jacket over the woman's shoulders, Paul looked up and his eyes locked on those of Fox.

He backed away from the bushes subconsciously and made his way back in the direction of the hotel. His mind was full of conflicting thoughts, but the events, which had taken place, were proof enough that the alien really did come back for the betterment of humanity. Seeing him save the life of this woman made tears come to his eyes. Maybe in all of this, Wylie had been right. The world isn't in any kind of danger with Forrester. Maybe what this crazy world needs is more people like this Starman. He reached his room, went inside and closed the door.

My vacation is going to be cut short again, he thought to himself grabbing a thermos of coffee off the table and pouring the contents into a Styrofoam cup. He grabbed the telephone from the cradle and booked a flight back to Washington for the following morning. This time his conscience cleared and a rare smile on his face. The miracle he had witnessed in the park would not be forgotten.

o O o

In the park, Maggie was drinking some juice as Paul was sitting down. Peter was looking at him with wide eyes, and Scott was catching his breath after his swim in the lake. Once she had finished the juice Paul had given to her, she spoke weakly, "Thank you, Scott."

Scott nodded shrugging his shoulders.

"I think we should go back to the house," Paul said calmly, closing the large picnic basket and picking it up. "It's getting cooler and pneumonia would do both of you little good." Paul tossed his leather jacket to his son.

Scott nodded in agreement and put the jacket on. Together he and Peter helped Maggie to her feet and the four of them left the park.

Few words were said as the four of them walked back to the Harding home. Peter and Scott walked beside Maggie. Peter's hand was still holding hers. Paul walked a few steps behind all of them, still carrying the picnic basket. His mind never far from the events of the lake and how it happened that George Fox never even approached him there.

Once they reached the house, Maggie and Scott excused themselves to go and change clothes. Peter and Paul were left alone in the living room. Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket. "I wanted to ask you how it is that you knew that I had the power to help your mother back there?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders and asked a question of his own. "Are you going to blast me with that thing?" Peter's eyes were on the sphere in Paul's hand.

Paul smiled, "No." He extended his hand to Peter. "Here, take it."

Peter reached his hand out and hesitantly took the sphere from Paul. Finally, his eyes closed and he began to project his thoughts to the man sitting in his living room, who are you really?

Paul concentrated and the sphere in Peter's hand began to emit blue light. Through this, Paul conveyed to Peter who he was, why he was there, and the story of how he came to meet Scott's mother, Jenny Hayden. He concluded by conveying the trouble both he and Scott were in simply because of who he is. Finally, the light vanished.

You used the energy from this to save my mother's life, Peter projected to Paul as he handed the sphere back. How could anyone ever consider you to be a threat to anyone?

Yes, Paul answered the first question, but hesitated to send out his projection to the second. Finally he concentrated and projected to the boy once again. Sometimes when people don't understand something they react in fear.

Peter nodded, as though he understood but projected back to Paul. You said something like that to me at the hotel a couple of days ago.

Paul smiled and projected to the boy. You remembered. He paused before he sent out another projection. I wanted to tell you that you have this ability, and it is how my people communicate. By Earth standards, this form of communication is considered to be very advanced and most people do not possess the ability to communicate as we are.

Peter's eyes brightened and he continued his half of the silent conversation. Is that why you told me you didn't think I was dumb?

Paul nodded, Because of what you and possibly others have seen us do for your mother, Scott and I have to leave. It is now too dangerous for us to stay here because of those I told you about who want to do us harm.

Peter sighed deeply but eventually nodded. He knew that Paul had spoken the truth. Finally, his green eyes sought Paul's. I knew who you were even before you saved my mother and projected to me with your sphere. I sensed it in the park the first time I saw you and Scott.

Paul looked at the boy, you knew all this time that I didn't come from your world?

Peter nodded, I wanted to talk to you about it, but I was afraid that you would be angry with me for intercepting your thoughts. The other thing, I don't really know how to shut it off. Does that make sense? I mean when you finish playing a game or watching a TV show, you can turn the computer or the television off, but with this I cannot. I've known since I was 12 that I could do this, but I have always been afraid to tell anyone.

So I was wrong in, believing you were unaware of your ability to communicate in this way, Paul projected.

Peter nodded, I also realized that I can do something else, but I've never told anyone.

Paul intercepted the boy's thoughts, and projected back to him. You can sense the future. I know, just because of what you said before we went to the lake. It was your idea to get Scott and me to the park this afternoon wasn't it.

Peter nodded affirming all of the things that Paul had projected.

"You're a hero, Peter. Because of your ability, you saved your mother's life," Paul spoke aloud this time.

"Me?" Peter's eyes were wide.

Paul nodded as Maggie and Scott returned to the living room. Both were now in dry clothes. Scott placed their bags next to the front door. Paul got up from his place on the sofa and walked towards his son. "Scott we have to leave now."

Scott nodded, "I know, I have everything packed."

Maggie looked at Paul desperation evident in her face, "No, please don't leave." Her face carried once more a look of hopelessness.

Paul looked at Scott, "I need to talk to Maggie, Scott. Use this time to say good bye to Peter."

Scott nodded and sat down on the sofa next to his new friend. "You know, that's the hardest thing about traveling a lot, saying good-bye."

Peter smiled weakly and nodded. "Your dad told me why you guys have to leave. It's hard to believe what I saw, but it was wonderful. I hope that you find your mom. I never realized how lucky I am to have mine."

Scott nodded, "Yeah, she's really great."

"You're the best friend I've ever had," Peter said softly, "Thanks for saving my mom."

"Well, I only pulled her out of the lake, my dad did the rest." Scott said modestly.

"Oh come on, don't underestimate yourself," Peter said punching his friend on the arm. "I know I probably won't see you again, but I'm grateful that you're my friend, and I know that we'll always be friends, Scott."

"You know we will be, and who knows, if this mess with Fox ever ends, then maybe my dad and I will come back to Garrett," Scott said.

"I have a feeling it's going to end a lot sooner than either you or your dad will ever realize," Peter offered giving his friend a hug.

o O o

Paul led Maggie into the kitchen and bade her sit down at the table. He closed the door, which would separate the kitchen from the living room. He approached the table, but remained standing. His eyes sought hers, "You knew we would have to leave, Maggie."

"But, so soon? What about Peter? What about your promise?" Maggie's questions began to come out in rapid succession and finally Paul placed his hands on her shoulders to quiet her. Feeling the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, she stopped asking and waited for him to say something.

"Maggie, I want you to understand what Peter already does. Scott and I have to leave. We don't want to, but remember what I told you earlier about a teenager needing his mother's nurturing?" Upon seeing her nod, he continued, "Scott and I are trying to find his mother. He and I would love to find Jenny and be a family like what you have here with Joe and Peter. Our staying here wouldn't help Peter any more than it would bring us closer to what it is Scott needs. Right now, the relationship that your son has with you and Joe is the most important thing. Not whether or not Scott and I have the power to help your son, he's finding that power within himself."

Maggie nodded, defeated, "The doctor said I have two months left to live and you're talking about me having a good relationship with my son. How can I?" Her voice began to tremble and tears began to stream down her cheeks. "You and Scott are the only friends my son has, and now you're leaving too."

"Maggie, I want you to do something, after we leave, sit down and speak to your son. What I can't explain to you now, he will." Paul said standing up, "I know you are in a lot of pain right now, but don't forget, you haven't died, don't talk like you have." He sighed deeply, "did you ever think about getting a second opinion when you were diagnosed? You might consider doing so, if you haven't yet. I want to help you, but I don't know how, and I think you know that our leaving is best."

Maggie looked up wanting to speak, but Paul had already left the room and met Scott in the living room. "Are you ready to go?"

Scott nodded and smiled weakly at his friend.

Peter reached inside his pocket and pulled the key chain out. Once he removed the key from the chain, he handed the empty key chain to Scott.

Scott accepted Peter's gift, put it in his pocket and gave his friend a final hug.

At the door, Paul projected a final message to Peter, and upon receiving a confirming nod; he grabbed his camera bag and one of the two duffel bags, which were sitting next to the front door.

Scott grabbed the second bag, and with his free arm, waved to Peter and Maggie, who had followed Paul out of the kitchen.

Finally, Paul opened the front door, Scott walked outside and after a final nod, and Paul walked out, and closed the door behind him. Peter and Maggie were left standing in the living room.

o O o

On the road leading away from Garrett, Paul looked at his son. "How are you doing now? Did you get over the dizziness?" He felt somewhat bad that in all of the things that had happened with Peter and his mother, that Scott's sickness had been forgotten.

"I think I'm OK now, thanks to Maggie and Peter. They were great people, weren't they?" Scott offered. "I mean I think it takes awhile to get over that, but I'm fine."

Paul nodded, "I'm glad, but if you start feeling sick, you should tell me."

Scott smiled impishly, "Yeah, Dad, you know I will." He watched as the sun began to descend behind the trees. "There is something I don't understand though. I mean only yesterday you said that we weren't supposed to go to town, and then Maggie came in and we agreed to go to the park."

"Scott, I had a strange feeling and didn't want them to go there alone," Paul offered. "I wasn't sure why I agreed to go either, but I think it was good that we did."

"Yeah, you saved Maggie's life," Scott said, pride in his voice. "But, it was kinda sudden that we left, wasn't it?" Scott asked. "I mean you told me only yesterday that Fox was in town and then that we were supposed to stay. Now we're back on the road. What gives?"

"I saw Fox at the park when we helped Maggie," Paul said. "I was afraid that he'd catch both of us if we had stayed."

"So, I see you finally came to your senses." Scott chided his father.

"Scott, I managed to do what it is I needed to do, and once that was done, I thought it would be best if we left town. Fox's behavior in both the hotel and at the park confuses me, and I sense that whatever is going on with him doesn't give us the security we need. Like you said, it could be a trick, and I won't know unless I have the opportunity to not only speak to him, but also to make some sort of contact with him."

Scott nodded, "Yeah and speaking of which, don't you think you should do something about that big gash on your head?" He pulled out his sphere and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Are you volunteering?" Paul asked looking around the area where they were hitching rides. When he saw no one he nodded to his son.

Scott stopped walking after getting the silent OK from his father and began to concentrate on the sphere in his hand. Once his father's injury was healed, he returned the sphere to his pocket. "Not bad for a teenager, huh?"

Paul placed his hand against his forehead, and smiled. You're a surprise a minute, Scott, he thought to himself.

I know, Scott sent a projection back to his father.

Paul looked at his son and smiled broadly.

o O o

Back in Garrett the following morning, Maggie sat down next to her son in the park. "Peter, I have to ask you something? Paul said that you can read thoughts, is that true?"

Peter looked at his mother and answered her question with one word, "yes."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" She wanted to know.

"Because I've always felt like an oddity, and Paul and Scott are the first people I have ever met who didn't make me feel that way." Peter said. "There's a lot of things I could sense about you, and Dad, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me. I've been able to sense things since I was 12, and I also know about the Cancer."

"You do?" Maggie asked.

Peter nodded. He looked at his mother and smiled. "I have to tell you the truth about Paul. He told me I should." He told her everything that Paul conveyed to him to explain, leaving out one very important piece of news. He had a feeling that she wouldn't believe it anyway.

Peter looked at his mother, "Just make an appointment at another doctor and you will see for yourself what I mean. I have known from the start that Paul Forrester was more than meets the eye, and now you have to take his advice. Because of him, you're going to sing the solo at church this Christmas."

Maggie looked at her son skeptically, but allowed his words to pass. "You think I should get a second diagnosis?"

Peter nodded, "It wouldn't hurt, and think of the good that could come out of it. Besides, if you get a second opinion, then you would have to believe what I told you about Paul and Scott."

Maggie smiled, looking at the innocent face of her son. "I'll get a second opinion on one condition." Peter anticipated her next words, "don't tell your father the ET story, he'd have us both committed. Especially because I am compelled to believe it."

Peter laughed, but after a few seconds passed, he looked up to see a short man standing behind Maggie. He glanced up, "Good morning. Don't I know you?" He asked the man. "I saw you here yesterday, you were hiding behind that tree over there."

The man nodded, "Yes, my name is George Fox, and I would like to talk to you and your mother for a few minutes, if I may."

Peter nodded and moved over so the man could sit down.

o O o

An hour later, Peter and Maggie left the park, and Peter carried a radiant smile on his face. When his mother finally asked why it was that he looked so happy, Peter looked at her and said, "We're going to see Paul and Scott again. That was the man that was chasing them and after seeing what happened yesterday, he has decided to close the investigation."

"How do you know that?" Maggie was confused. "He never said anything that would indicate that he was investigating Paul and Scott, nor did he say he worked for the government."

Peter cocked his head to one side and gave his mother a lopsided grin. Now, if he only had the ability to transmit thoughts over a distance. He sighed, maybe in time, Paul and Scott will sense it on their own.

o O o

Two weeks later, Maggie and Joe Harding walked into the waiting room of the local hospital. The doctor had called her earlier in the week and suggested that she make an appointment as soon as possible. She knew what was coming, she and Joe had to go and get the results of the various tests which she had decided to have done two days after Paul and Scott left Garrett.

In the waiting room, Joe looked around nervously and Maggie was sitting on the sofa confidently leafing through a magazine. She noticed that her husband carried a look on his face that could have sliced iron. He didn't understand why she had subjected herself to these tests again especially since the doctor she had used had come highly recommended. She grabbed his hand and whispered in his ear. "Calm down, Honey, the news can't be any worse than what we already have had." Joe nodded, but this didn't calm his nervousness. Finally, she grabbed his hand and when her name was called the two of them stood up together.

Inside the doctor's office, Maggie sat down and Joe paced by the window. "Mrs. Harding," the doctor pulled a file from the folder, "first of all, I have to tell you before we ran any tests, I conversed with your other doctor. He said that the case looked pretty hopeless, but he also agreed that a second opinion would be prudent at this stage of the game. After we took your blood and ran the tests, we were amazed." He took a sheet of paper off the pile. "These are your first set of test results. These are the second, and when you see them, I think you will understand why we are amazed."

The doctor laid the two sets of results on the desk side by side and slid them across the desk. Maggie looked down at the paperwork. "What does all this mean?"

"Mrs. Harding, it means that the Cancer is gone, and that you are probably one of the healthiest patients I have ever treated." The doctor pulled a third sheet of paper from his desk, "One of my other colleagues was also asked to run the same set of tests with the information we got from you, and he has confirmed as well that your Cancer has gone into remission."

Maggie looked up at her husband and back at the doctor. She immediately broke down crying. Now I know what you were trying to tell me, Paul, she thought to herself as she attempted to accept the miracle, which she had been praying for.

Her thoughts turned to her son. He had been the reason she had made many of the choices here, and now all she could do is accept the fact that her son had been right in his predictions. Paul had been right, her son had some indescribable abilities, and because he used them, she realized that she would be singing the solo in church again this Christmas.

THE END

Written by Yvette Jessen. If you have any comments on this story please E-mail them.