Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Probably a good idea." Misha finally released his hand once they reached the living room again. A shot of relief hit her when she saw their bags still there; for some reason, every horror movie trope came to mind now and she had half expected to see their stuff gone.

She gave a quick nod to the bags. "Should we camp here or do we want to risk the bedrooms?" she asked as she went to turn off the television. Then she unplugged it with a decisive yank of the cord. Misha glanced over her shoulder at Brian. "I'm warning you, though, that I am not leaving your side at any point because, well, horror movies and slasher flicks."

The set of her full mouth warned him that she meant it, too. If she had to, she thought, she would tie him up to keep him with her. The idea gave her a sudden moment of distraction and she blinked, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. Quickly, Misha shook her head again and strove for a solemn look. "You're stuck with me, Handsome."

Misha wrinkled her nose briefly but then returned his smile. "You're probably right. I don't know how that's going to work but being exhausted isn't going to help us in the long run," she admitted. Then she looked around, clearly considering the options. "I definitely think we should stay out here... But, if I take the couch, where are you going to sleep?"

She shook her head and crawled over to where their sleeping bags lay abandoned. "Let's really rough it," she laughed as she began unrolling first one and then the other. "Besides this way I know where you are." She twisted to shoot him a wink over her shoulder.

Misha frowned at him and smoothly rocked back to sit on her heels. Then, with a dancer's ease and grace, she pivoted to face him directly. There was something in his tone and how he held himself that concerned her. A hesitation that she rarely saw in him. What was he thinking and why? "I don't like the sound of that. It makes it sound like you're going to stay up all night, watching over me," she accused. Her expression eased into an impish smile. "Stalker."

She turned back to the sleeping bags and arranged them, laughing. "No, this is fine, Brian. I don't know how much sleep I'll be getting anyway and I'm not going to break from one night on the floor next to you."

So was that what had him worried? Misha reached across the bags to squeeze his hand warmly. "There are much worse fates than waking up in your arms, Handsome. I'm really pretty sure about that."

And she was, too. So much so that she dropped her eyes and her attention to the sleeping bags again and fussed with them until she had them stretched out side by side, perfectly aligned. She made no move to zip them together; she had forgotten completely about the option. She paused then before shaking her head and sitting on the sleeping bag closest to her in order to take off her shoes. No PJs for this mission. Who knew what they would have to do? So clothing stayed put but she was damned if she would attempt to sleep while wearing her shoes.

Misha looked up to smile at him, all mischief again. "Do I need to tuck you in?"

"I promise. Cross my heart." Peeling open the sleeping bag, Misha slipped within its confines and squirmed until she was able to make herself comfortable. Then she tucked the pillow under her head and smiled over at her mission partner and adored friend. "Sleep sweet, Brian," she whispered. "Stay right there and wake me up if you need me."

Misha had not thought she would be able to sleep. There was no way that rest would come in a haunted house, right? She figured that she would lay there all night with her eyes closed, listening to Brian breathe beside her, trying to ignore the worry and the nerves and the creepy crawly feeling of the place. Sleep would never come to her...

Stretching lazily, Misha yawned. She kept her eyes closed, though; it was part of the game. She felt the brush of something touch the tip of her nose and wrinkled it. Her lips twitched as she fought to suppress a smile. The tickle moved to trace her cheekbone and up her temple. Then it abruptly changed direction and drifted back down to follow her jawline with a brief stop over her bottom lip before dipping lower.

When it hit her throat, though, she gave in and squirmed, a smile bursting into life on her pretty face. "Stop that," she giggled. Her hand lifted to swat away the teasing touch. Something tugged one of her braids and she laughed again, rolling abruptly to stop the pull. Once on her stomach, Misha opened her eyes and squinted in the bright sunlight. The shadowy mass in front of her brought first a bigger smile to her lips and then a frown. It felt slightly off, not quite right. "Stefan? Move over so I can see you, goose. The sun's burning you up."

That wasn't quite right, not quite the right words.

Frowning more, Misha pushed her upper body up on braced arms. She felt the sand shifting under the beach towel beneath her but kept her position. Finally, he moved to one side and she sighed with relief. "You're a total jerk," she pointed out, voice fond. "You're so lucky you're cute."

"So are you."

"Don't I know it." With a laugh, Misha managed to wriggle herself up onto her hands and knees and then rocked back to sit on her heels. The lean, dark-haired young man who had been blocking the sun joined her on the towel. His hand touched her hip lightly. She shot him an absent smile but then looked around, searching. "Where did everyone go?"

"Oh, they're around." His hand shifted to the small of her back, overly warm against the skin there, exposed by her bikini. "I think they went to get the coolers from the car."

"Ah, yeah." She leaned into his side slightly, her head against his shoulder. "Did we get the permit for the bonfire?"

"Probably." A finger traced up her spine.

Misha frowned. Something felt wrong. She turned her head to look at Stefan but saw nothing but shadows again. How could the sun move behind him? It was in front of them. She straightened and pulled away. "I should go help bring the stuff down here."

"Later. They've got it." His hand closed around her upper arm tightly. "Let's go swimming."

Swimming? She loved to swim and, despite all of the awful but true jokes about it, she loved the various Jersey shores within driving distance of Philadelphia. Many of her summers had been spent at one or another, with family, with friends. She smiled. "Swimming sounds good," she agreed. "It'll get too cold when the sun goes down."

If it goes down.

She went to stand but Stefan's hand prevented it until he, too, rose. She jerked her arm, trying to get it out of his hold. "Stefan, let go." Misha licked her lips. Her heart started to pound. "You're pinching me."

"Let's go swimming."

With that, he headed for where the waves rolled into the shore lazily. Inexorable, he pulled her along with him. Alarm raced through her body and she dug in her heels. The sand offered no purchase and she slipped and he kept walking. "Stefan! No. I don't want to go swimming. Not now. Not with you."

This was wrong. This was not how it went, that sweet summer day three years ago. Misha squirmed and pulled until she panted with the effort. His hold on her arm was like iron. Like a shackle. Like forever. The sun above them burned hotter. The water looked like ice.

"No!" Her feet hit the water. He pushed her further into the waves. The ice cold touch of each swell sank into her skin. "No!"

Her desperate cry echoed through the stillness and Misha woke up with a start. The water was all too real and all too cold. She looked down to see it swirling about her bare ankles as she stood on the edge of the lake. Choking down a sob, she wrapped her arms around her torso and looked around in panic. Brian. Where was Brian?

A raw tremor laced through her voice. "B-Brian?"

"No." There was no shouting this time. Misha had shaken off the horrible, paralyzing fear of her dream as Brian's arms had encircled her and, somehow, the appearance of the strange woman did nothing to force it back onto her. Misha set her jaw, raised her chin. Her stomach felt tight with a new worry. Then suddenly she was behind Brian, the icy water mid-calf now and wicking up her jeans, turning the denim sodden and clinging. Her arms slipped around his waist and she checked his forward motion with surprising strength.

Misha's arms tightened around him protectively. She leveled a steady glare at the shimmering vision before them. "We are goddamn not going swimming," she answered lowly. "Not at night and not when we're going to get hypothermia."

The plural "we" was used but it almost rang more like "Brian." As if she were putting her foot down on him risking himself, on him putting himself in danger, on this strange woman-thing exerting any demands on him.

Misha struggled wildly from the moment the cool fingers wrapped around her arm. The fear that had left returned in a rush, complete with the panic of her dream. Stefan's fingers around her arm. This creature's fingers. Cold and hard and unyielding. Tears in her eyes, Misha twisted and tried to reach for Brian as she was dragged away from him and brought into the water.

The icy lake water closed over her head and, in her absolute fear, common sense left and she screamed. "Brian!"

The realization that she could still breathe did little to calm her. With a ferocity born of building anger, Misha twisted in the woman's grip and kicked out, fighting to get away. When Brian appeared at her side, though, she lessened her panicked resistance. She still squirmed, however, and tried to release the grip. She looked at Brian with wide grey eyes, alarm bright in them.

Brian's touch further lessened her panic and Misha leaned into him as much as she could despite the strange woman's hold on her. Then she shook off his grip and instead laced their fingers together. She squeezed firmly and shook her head when he nodded back towards the shoreline. Like hell was she going to let him go alone. She was afraid, borderline terrified, but she was not going to abandon Brian.

Misha conjured up a brave smile and lifted her chin again, pride of a queen in the gesture. Then she turned her attention back towards the ghostly woman. "Well?" her glare seemed to ask. "What now?"