I can't go to sleep. It's after midnight, but despite the exhaustion nibbling at my eyelids, I can't close my eyes. I know what will happen if I do, I'm going to have a nightmare. I'm a nervous wreck.

If I was like the rest of the family, I'd exercise. I know it helps Jackson and Katrina handle their stress, but I'm not into it like they are. Walks through the woods and helping out around the house is more than enough for me.

I don't know what to do, until I think about what does help me feel better. Spending time with Nathan isn't an option, he's still on the road to New Orleans. Knowing him, he's probably got the shotgun already, along with the ammunition and a bag of meal replacement bars or something from the same sporting goods store next to him, munching away while he drives.

The image of his face, lit up by the dim green lights of the gauges on the truck and his own eyes burning out into the night swirl around in my head until I know what I want to do. I get up, startling Katrina who's lying on the sofa, monitoring her laptop and napping. She sits up, her hand moving to the table and I realize she has her pistol there, before she realizes it's me and she relaxes some. “You okay?”

“I'm going out to the chapel,” I tell her. “Are you?”

She nods and lays back down. “I'm just napping now, I've got the speakers on high so if he calls I'll be up in an instant. Don't worry, I've got his back.”

“Thanks,” I reply, leaving as Katrina already slips back to sleep. It's a skill she's mastered. She can go to sleep and snap awake in an instant, something I know BA appreciates when she's needed milk in the night.

The air in the chapel is below freezing, but as I look at the big block of granite in the front, I feel warmth fill me. The sledgehammer is still sitting in the corner, and I pick it up, looking over the granite. I can see it, I can see what I want to make, to create. I raise the sledge over my head and bring it down, crashing into the block. A few chips fly off the top, but it's still staying solid so far.

Fine. I pick up the chisel and the hand sledge, and start tapping out the line I want to create that will give me the piece I want. Starting with a scratch, I deepen the split slowly, working with the stone to open it up. I'm so engrossed in my work that when the door to the chapel opens, I don't even raise my head until the cold breeze hits my now sweaty skin. I look up, seeing Carson standing there, his hands shoved into the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. “What are you doing?”

“Working,” I reply, turning back to the block and going back to tapping. “What are you doing?”

“Wondering why I'm being woken up by the sound of you smacking the hell out of a rock at one in the morning,” Carson says, grumpy. “Andrea's chilling out with Katrina on the sofa, thank God BA sleeps like her father. Those two would sleep through World War III if it started at night.”

“Sorry. Like you said though, the urge hit me. I have to get it out of my brain before I can get any sleep. Without Nathan here, I've got to do something.”

Carson huffs, and taps his foot. “Seriously, 'Lissa?”

“Seriously,” I reply, feeling a little bit upset. “You've been acting pissy all evening since Nathan left. What's got your butt?”

“What's got my butt?” he asks, slightly surprised at my rough language, then sighs. “Fine, I'll tell you. Are you sure this is the time to try and advance your relationship with Nathan? The man's driving to get shot at.”

“I know that!” I screech, throwing my chisel to the ground and brandishing my hammer at him. “You don't think I fucking know that?”

Carson stares at me, shocked as I continue my tirade. I've almost never cursed before in my life, and never, ever at him. “I love you, but I love him, too! But I'm useless here! I can't fight, I can barely cook, I can't even chop the fucking wood! So excuse me Carson if I interrupt your sleep. Maybe Andrea can lull you back to a restful slumber.”

Carson steps forward, anger flashing in his silver-gray eyes, but I'm too pissed to back down. “You know, I've put up with a lot of shit from you, 'Lissa. And I've never, ever complained before. But this? For fuck's sake, when it was just a crush, when I saw that you two were circling each other, I encouraged it, but that was before we had a fucking assassin coming after us! That was before we spent the past five weeks living on a shower schedule, with daily internet limits because of power needs and the highlight of the fucking week being a trip to the suburbs of Asheville! That was before I spent the past five weeks scared out of my fucking mind that I'm not going to be able to see our baby born because some psycho chick's going to kill us! You think you're the only one with nightmares? Huh? Do you?”

“At least you can do something about it!” I scream back, fully lost in my fear and anger. “At least you can protect her! What am I supposed to do? All I can do is crack this rock! So you know what? I'm going to crack this rock, and find the right piece, and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to get some rest while I wait for Nathan to call. If he ever can.”

Carson stares at me, then takes a deep breath and storms out, slamming the door to the chapel behind him. I stare at the door for a minute then go get my chisel, going back to work. When the door opens again I don't even look up. “I'm not ready to talk to you yet, Carson. I'm sorry we fought, but I'm not ready to talk.”

“Actually, it’s me,” Andrea says, her voice tired, amused, and concerned at the same time. “And if you want a hand cracking that rock, we did a pretty good job at it last time.”

I sigh, setting my hammer down. “You're not angry with me?”

Andrea laughs lightly and shakes her head. “For what? For cursing Carson out? Or for making a racket that woke us up?”

“Any of it, all of it, I don't know,” I reply, dropping my chisel. “Did I just really curse at my brother?”

“Yep,” Andrea says, coming forward and wrapping me in a hug. “And you know what? He deserved it, too.”

I blink, startled. “But...”

“I don’t agree with everything he does,” Andrea chuckles. “I'm also your sister, remember. He was being a bossy jerk to you and to me too afterward. I told him as much when he came in and stormed around, bitching about what you said. Katrina's pissed at him about that, but she'll get over it.”

I nod, a relieved smile on my face. “I should apologize to him.”

“You can make up later. Isn’t that what siblings do?” She shakes her head, and goes over to the block of granite, picking up the chisel and tracing it along the line I'm making in the surface.

We take turns with the hammer and chisel, working through the night. Finally, just as Andrea's watch beeps to tell us it's three in the morning, I swing the hammer one last time. The stone cracks again, giving me a large piece that's kind of triangular. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands, smiling. “Perfect... just perfect.”

“Good,” Andrea says, yawning. “Because I'm beat, and my forearms are humming.”

I set the rock down and we go back inside, both of us surprised to find Carson still awake, Katrina sleeping on the couch. When we close the door, he comes over and looks at both of us, saying nothing. There's something in his eyes though, something I don't quite get. “Carson?”

“I'm sorry, Andrea. I was wrong, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”

I look at Andrea, whose eyes glitter with tears, but she swallows deeply and touches Carson's hair. “And our sister?”

Carson nods and turns without getting up, bowing deeper. “I'm sorry, Melissa. You were right, and I'm sorry that my fear led to me losing my temper with you.”

“There's no need to apologize. I understand your fear, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Carson says.

“Then there's nothing to worry about,” I tell him, putting my hand on his shoulders. “Is there, Andrea?”

Andrea shakes her head. “No, there isn't. I love you, Carson. But, if it's okay, can we just forget this and go to bed? I’m beat from swinging at that rock.”

Carson looks at me and I nod, smiling, and Carson picks Andrea up in his arms and carries her from the room. I watch them go, only to be interrupted when Katrina chuckles. “Cute.”

I turn and see her lying stretched out on the sofa, her eyes open and totally awake. “You heard?”

“I'm the Shadow, the Ghost in the Machine. I hear everything, I know everything,” she jokes, pointing at the open space on the couch next to her. “Have a seat. You look like you could use some sleep too, and if there's any bad dreams, I'll keep you safe.”