The lone figure of a man sat in a comfortable chair the study reading from an old family journal, a glass on the small table beside the reading lamp.

Now scooping Sarah up into his arms, Barnabas smiled warmly before assuring her, "And you are very right, my dear, I shall never be far from you..." With a point of his finger toward her heart, he softly continued, "I shall always be right here."

Roger Collins had always loved reading about the family history and this little journal was his most recent find. If 6 whole months could be called recent, that is. Ironically enough, he had found it in the West Wing one day while searching for his wayward son, David. (The boy had later been found exploring in the East Wing.) Roger had tucked it into the pocket of his smoking jacket with the thought of reading it after his search. The small tome was promptly forgotten. 6 months later he had found it again when he pulled the same jacket from his closet. It wasn't one he'd worn often because it was one Laura had given him and the memory of her came to him every time he saw the garment. Thus it's lack of continued use. Mrs. Johnson had'nt yet done the laundry and Roger's usual jacket had been unavailable tonight.

Such was luck.

Absentmindedly, he reached for the glass only to find to his dismay that it was empty. With a sigh, Roger placed the ribboned bookmark between the pages to mark his place, tucked the journal into his pocket and got up to refill his glass.

Unable to sleep, David crept out of bed and headed downstairs. Often when he couldn't sleep, he'd sneak into the kitchen and raid the refridgerator. As he dreamt of Mrs. Johnson's infamous apple pie, he spotted his father up and about in the foyer. 'Maybe he can explain to me what's going on.'

"F-father? Why are you still up?"

Roger stopped, startled by the voice of his son. "Me? That's a question that might be better applied to you, young man. Just what are you doing up at this hour?"

However, before the boy could answer the ancient clock in the foyer struck midnight. Father and son gazed at the grand timepiece and listened to the chimes fade away like some lonely sentinel out on watch.

David shrugged his shoulders. "I-I couldn't sleep. I've just been thinking. Did Aunt Liz tell you about what I saw tonight?" He peered at his father, trying to read the expression on his face. If he was angry, it wouldn't be a good time to broach the subject of his only playmate but on the other hand, how often did he get a chance to speak with his father?

Roger shook his head. "No, I haven't seen your aunt all evening. I think she went to bed before I got home from the office." He paused. "What is it that you saw?"

David frowned. Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything at all, but now that his father had flat out asked him, David knew he couldn't get out of it without saying something. "I-I Sarah again...but of course you won't believe me! Aunt Liz didn't."

Roger sighed. Oh not Sarah again. Couldn't the boy see something else for change...? Like maybe a hawk or a wolf or some other human? Something that was actually real and alive for a change? All this talk of seeing ghosts was becoming a little disturbing. Alright, granted Victoria Winters had said that having imaginary friends was normal for a child, but David was too old for that now. Roger just wished the boy would grow up and act his age. Maybe playing an explorer of ancient whatevers wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"I think you've been reading too much of the Collins Family History. I'll have to talk to Vicki about that in the morning."

David sighed in frustration. "I knew it...I shouldn't have told you anything! And if you're looking for Victoria, she isn't here. Aunt Liz told me that she got some unexpected call from Bangor. But that's not like her at all to just take off like that and not tell me where she's going. I think something funny is going on around but no one wants to tell me because I'm just a kid!" He threw himself onto the sofa, continuing to pout. "Sarah told me that someone is in danger...and she doesn't lie."

Pausing, Roger thought better of refilling his brandy glass and replaced the stopper of the decanter. "I wish someone would leave me a note or something when things like this happen. I'm not psychic after all," the man groused more to himself than anyone else. Vickie leaving suddenly was certainly strange and the fact that David didn't know where she had gone was even stranger. The thought of waking Liz and interrogating her about it crossed Roger's mind almost as fast as his rational self quashed the idea. Liz would be furious with him if he did so, if only because she was probably fast asleep by now.

"Are we the only two still awake in this house, or is Mrs. Johnson doing some late night cooking? Which wouldn't surprise me at all, mind you."

Good Lord knows she could use the practice, he thought to himself.

David hated it when his father changed the subject, something he did often when he either didn't want to tell David what was going on...or perhaps this time he was just as in the dark as David was. "I don't know if Mrs. Johnson is up or not...but then I haven't gone down to the kitchen yet." He chuckled to himself, amused at the possibility that his father also liked to raid the refrigerator at all hours of the night.

Somewhere in the back Roger's mind a little voice was telling him it was far too late in the evening to start a fight and that nothing really could be accomplished by it in the first place. David would insist his ghost existed just as hard as Roger himself would insist that ghosts were not real, thus only a stalemate could be achieved. The almost inaudible ticking of the hall clock reminded the man of the time and rational thought dictated bed.

Then Rogers stomach gurgled sourly. Alcohol on an empty stomach rolled around for one nauseating moment before settling again. He hadn't even been fortunate enough to get home in time for Mrs. Johnson to heat anything up for him and now his stomach was upset and very vocal. Truly wishing for a peaceful conversation with his son Roger waved the boy off the couch. "How about we go and see if there's anything left of dinner. That is, if you haven't already finished it all off. I know growing boys such as yourself have a healthy appetite."

A small crept over the boy's lips as his father suggested getting a late night snack. Could it possibly be that his father was human after all? Stranger things had happened! Sending his father an appreciative glance, he quickly hopped off the couch and reached for his Spiderman comic book. "There's still some Salisbury steak left over and maybe some mashed potatoes." Of course none of the food really mattered much to him for during this split second, his father was showing him a kindness that he didn't often get to see.

Seeing David's eagerness actually pleased Roger. Maybe... No. Better not wish for miracles. Lord knows he wasn't about to receive any. Not tonight anyway. Just take it one step at a time. "Well, then, let's see if I remember how to heat up the stove, shall we? Maybe there's some desert left... unless you've eaten it all that is."

David gave him a sheepish grin as they both headed for the kitchen. "Nope. I couldn't possibly eat it all. Not in one sitting anyway." Was this the start of something positive between the two of them? As much as David hoped for such an occurrence, he somehow doubted it. Drinking often put his father in a calmer mood and that's probably all it was.

{End Scene}