Another random Friday in the lab after school. It's a wonder Ms. Perren isn't suspicious about what he's doing at this point, but maybe she's just that trusting kind of person. The room isn't even technically hers, anyway. She's a semi-permanent substitute teacher, filling in for someone who's on some sort of break or something. Owen isn't sure. He's only lived in this town for a month, and she has been here for much longer. He could probably look up the old teacher in a yearbook if he really—

Wait. Yearbooks.

"Emily!" Owen says, nearly burning his sleeve in his excitement. She startles from her spot near the ceiling, losing a couple feet of altitude as Owen turns off the Bunsen burner. "Sorry. But, you had to have been a student here, right? Which means you're in a yearbook!"

"Oh," Emily says. Then, she beams. "Yes! You're right!

"Tomorrow— Well, Monday, I guess, I'll go to the library and check out—"

Knock, knock, knock. Owen freezes. There's someone at the classroom door. Crap, he's not in trouble, is he? Did they hear him talking to Emily? He turns, and there is Harris, standing at the windowed door with a raised eyebrow. Shouldn't he have gone home by now, though? Confused, Owen goes and opens the door.

"Hey, man. You're getting out of here, now."

Owen frowns. "But I just—"

"No buts. You're coming to my house, and you're going to sleep, and then tomorrow we're going bowling."

Harris steps into the room and sees the unlit Bunsen burner and scattered Petri dishes. He bites his lip, appearing indecisive about something, and glances at his phone.

"Ugh. Okay, fine, this stuff looks important. Anything I can help with?"

"Not really, I just kinda have to... " Owen trails off. Harris has plunked himself on a stool just feet away from Emily, who is now sitting (floating?) bolt upright with a frown and furrowed eyebrows. She makes an aborted movement to reach for him, before abruptly withdrawing her hand and floating backward a short distance.

"Well?" Harris says, noticing Owen just standing there. "What are you doing? Can I help?"

Owen wordlessly shakes his head and walks back to his seat, slowly walks back to his own lab stool. He can't stop glancing between Emily and Harris. Has Emily never seen Harris before? It's entirely possible that she hasn't. It's a big school. Her main haunts are the science lab and the art room, and neither of those are classes that Harris has this semester… so then the next question is, what's up with Emily's reaction?

"Finish up, then. I'll help you clean up. But after that, I'm kidnapping you. Got it? I already cleared it with your parents."

Owen nods again. He wants to ask Emily if she's okay. Her face is reminiscent of his during a calculus test, when he's staring at a problem with only a vague idea of the formula he should be using to solve it.

After another beat, Owen focuses on his lab book and the procedure he's writing down. He can see Harris in his peripheral vision, jiggling his leg and frowning. At first, Owen assumes he's it's just because he's waiting for Owen to finish with the lab. But… Harris seems agitated, in a way that has nothing to do with impatience.

When Owen starts cleaning up, Harris is all too eager to help him leave the room. He all but shoves Owen out the door, glancing back into the room and lingering in the doorway for a moment, before tugging the door towards him.

He seems to intentionally leave it open a crack.

_____

A gentle tap on Owen's arm has him flailing awake. Crap, he fell asleep, he wasn't working on something, was he? What time is it? When was that Lit paper due, again? Oh god, oh god, oh god—

"Owen, holy crap, chill out!"

Wha—? Oh. Wait. He's not at home. He's in Harris's car, and they're parked in Harris's driveway...? Details filter into his mind as he trips out of the car and straightens. He must have fallen asleep on the drive over. Huh. He doesn't even remember really feeling tired beyond his usual level of tiredness. Did that make sense? Owen's too groggy to care.

"Are you okay, man?" Harris asks, a note of amusement in his voice. Owen swings his head towards his friend's voice. Nods. Owen kind of just wants to... bed. He doesn't want to talk.

"You were out before I even left the parking lot," Harris says as they walk to his front door. Owen makes a sound that could be interpreted as an acknowledgement. Harris laughs. When they get to his room, Owen faceplants spread-eagled on Harris's unmade bed, toeing off his shoes. The sheets smell like pizza and BO.

Harris leaves him alone for a few minutes. Owen can hear him shuffling around the room. Sleep descends like a nice blanket over Owen's body... or maybe that was an actual blanket?

"Hey, Owen," Harris says.

"Mrrm?" Owen makes a noise halfway between a question mark and a whine.

"...Who were you talking to when I walked into the lab earlier?"

That's enough to inject some amount of alertness in Owen's body. Whoops. So much for hoping Harris didn't hear anything. Owen could lie, but Harris is his good friend who also happens to have a pretty good BS detector. Owen's never even really been good at lying to people in general. He also just wants to sleep, which means this interaction needs to be over as soon as possible.

"A friend," Owen answers.

"There was no one else in the room," Harris presses, "and you weren't anywhere near your phone."

"Name is Emily," Owen grumbles. "Dead."

"Dead?"

"Ghost."

There's a moment of silence. Then, quick footsteps approach the bed, and a weight sinks down near Owen's side.

"You were talking to a ghost?" Harris's voice says, much closer than it was before.

"Mmm."

"Is she hurting you?"

Something in Owen's sleep-addled brain recognizes the intensity in Harris's voice. He turns his face just enough to peek an eye at his friend. "Whaddya mean?"

"Emily. Is she hurting you? What does she want?"

Owen feels his face scrunch up as he thinks. Emily wouldn't hurt him, but... what does she want? He's not really sure. He just knows he wants to help her, but that a pretty unspecific directive.

"She's nice. Not sure what she wants. 'm just helpin' her figure out who she was."

"What? Does she not remember her death?"

"No? Should she?"

Harris doesn't answer. After a few moments, he gets up from his bed. Owen faintly hears the sound of his phone calling someone.

"Hey. Rhea? Abort, now. Something weird is going on." Pause. "Yes, weirder than our normal weird. Have you....? Good." Harris seems to hesitate, and then, "Just go home for now, I guess. I'm sorry." Another pause. "I know, I'm sorry, I promise I'll explain tomorrow. Trust me on this, okay?"

Harris hangs up. Owen is awake enough to recognize that he just had a Weird Conversation, but he's not really awake enough to care. He falls asleep.

_____

Owen wakes up at four in the morning in a bed that's not his. It takes him a second to remember that he's at Harris's house and not in his own bed.

He sits up, realizing what woke him up; nature calls. He gingerly climbs out of the creaky bed. Just as he's wondering where Harris is, he spots him shirtless on top of a sleeping bag on the floor.

Owen feels vaguely guilty. He's normally the one in the sleeping bag, but Harris probably hadn't wanted to wake him up. A testament to how tired he must have seemed then; Harris would typically have no such reservations.

A particularly loud snore from Harris makes Owen freeze and glance in his friend's direction.

And then he stares.

Harris is lying on his stomach… and he has scars all over him, just like Emily does. Right there, right on his lower back near his hip, is the same, roundish, cigarette-scar looking burn that Emily has.