Generation 4, Chapter 3: History repeating itself

The city of Paris, the largest city and also the capital of France. Bridgeport could never compete with the likes of this city, with an estimated population of over 2 million. It was a city I had once called home for a short period of time. Many would assume I would be glad to return, but I wasn't. I was terrified.

Looking at the Eiffel Tower reminded me of the times Sarah and I would dine at the Jules Verne restaurant tucked away inside, or the times we would look at the Seine river and how beautiful it shimmered at night.

Those weren't the only painful reminders of the city. There was two places I had yet to visit.

The first would be easy to eliminate. It was the apartment Sarah and I had shared for a few months, before I headed back to the US. I had been quick to sell it after her death, severing all ties I had in France.

The taxi dropped me off at the apartment with its 11 floors. After a quick jaunt up the elevator, before me stood the hideous orange door of my old home.

It had truly been a great place, with a spacious living area, and even a balcony. Of course, the balcony was through a door on my right, not even connected to the apartment.

"We should have gotten that door repainted...," I muttered under my breath.

"I'm sorry?" someone asked beside me. Only now I noticed that the door to the balcony had been slightly open, and outside was a pale woman, looking as if she were caught in an awkward situation. "You weren't talking to me, were you?"

"Uh, no, I wasn't. I was just...deep in thought. Sorry for the confusion."

"No, it's fine," she chuckled nervously. "Are you interested in the apartment?"

I shook my head. "Definitely not. I lived here once, actually. Not interested in living here again."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I was worried I might have competition. I'm a student here, and I've been interested in getting a place of my own. My current roommate is quite...wonko. But why would you abandon this lovely place? Two bedrooms, a massive living room. It seems like the ideal place. Are there any secrets I should know of?" As she spoke, it was clear she wasn't French. Her accent was definitely English.

The best psychology sessions sometimes took place when you spoke to strangers. They, at least, didn't judge you, or say things that you wanted to hear because you were paying them. It wouldn't have hurt to tell the girl why I moved out. "My girlfriend died... I, uh, couldn't cope with it, and moved back home."

"I'm so sorry...," she bit her lip, frowning. I had put her in yet another awkward situation. How I had ever landed a girlfriend in the first place was beyond me. "How did it happen?"

"There was an attempted robbery at the art gallery four years ago, but when the robber found out there was nothing of value, he shot her and ran. The guy was caught eventually, and got the death penalty, but it...it doesn't make things any easier. And now I just unloaded my entire sob story on you, while you probably didn't even want to hear any of it. I'm such an idiot, sorry."

"That's fine," she laughed. "You seem like a decent guy. I really hope things work out for you in the end."

"I do too," I almost said, but the sound of her phone ringing stopped me. She waved goodbye, headed towards the elevator, and answered her phone.

It only dawned on me a minute later that I never learned her name. 

Then came the hardest part of the trip. Returning to the place where everything had happened. I absently wondered if there would be any clue left alive that a murder had taken place. Probably not. The head of the art gallery wouldn't want bad publicity for his business.

With the elevator out of order, I was forced to take the stairs. Sure, I had no issue with the extra bit of exercise, but it made everything that much harder. I had helped her with some of the lower floors' decorations, and some of the artifacts on display were things I had excavated.

"Hey, are you crying, man?" someone stopped beside me, taking a great interest in observing me. "Can I help in any way?"

"No, I'm not crying, it's just allergies." I wasn't lying. I had a bad case of hay fever, and the plants around the gallery weren't helping.

"Whatever you say... Hey, are you by any chance Daniel Jackson?"

"That's me...," I eyed him suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"Nah, I've never even met you, but I know your sister, Darcy. My name's Mitchell. I was in art school with her, and she talked about you once. I thought I recognized you from her descriptions, though... I pictured you to look a lot more nerdy."

"That's Darcy for you. Just because I wear glasses, she thinks she can go and tell the world I'm a nerd."

He smirked. "Don't worry, I haven't gotten to know you that well, so I won't agree with that statement just yet."

"Oh, I don't know," someone said from the shadows, and that someone was brandishing a gun.

History was repeating itself. 

Yet again, I found myself in a the art gallery with someone with me, and someone waving a gun around, most likely aiming to rob the place.

But this time, I didn't freak out. 

Unfortunately, Mitchell did.

"Daniel... We're gonna be killed," he said in hushed tones, his eyes the size of golf balls.

"We're not gonna be killed... I've been in a situation like this before, and although it ended badly, I won't have it end badly this time." It was strange how I saw myself as taking command of the situation. Last time, I did nothing, and it had horrible consequences. Perhaps if I did the talking this time, I would be the one to get hurt, and I would be able to save Mitchell from the Sarah's fate, or I would be able to talk our way out of it.

"Would you two shut up? I'm standing here, a gun in my hand, about to rob this place, and all you two do is talk? What are you, idiotic?" the helmet muffled the voice, making it impossible to distinguish whether it was a male or a female. It didn't help that the person hid away in the shadows.

"Sorry," Mitchell actually apologized, "I start talking when I get nervous."

"That's more like it," from the person's tone, I knew he or she had to be smiling. The attitude and the outfit was the exact same of the man who killed Sarah. He must have been a part of a some kind of organized crime party, and now they sent someone else to finish the job.

"Listen, whatever you need from this building, we can get it for you, but not if you hurt us. Do we have a deal?" I held my hands up, showing that I wasn't about to pull off some crazy stunt that could get us all killed. I was going to negotiate my way out of all of this.

"There's no we," the gun held in his hand was quivering slightly. Had I just blew it? Was one of us going to die? It sure sounded like it. "Only one of you is going to help me."

There it was. The statement that I was afraid of. Things would turn out just like they had before...

Or not.

"You there," the black clothed person pointed the gun at Mitchell. "Skedaddle out of here."

"W-what?" he stuttered, quickly looking at me and then at the robber.

"Seriously, get the hell out of here before I regret my decision and shoot you."

Mitchel didn't need to be told twice, and made for the staircase.

The doors to the staircase closed with a loud thud, leaving the room completely silent. I wasn't sure if I had to start talking, too afraid that if I did open my mouth, I would get a bullet between the eyes.

"Guess it's just the two of us for the time being. Just the way I like it."

"I'm sorry, but, why are you keeping me a prisoner when you want to rob this place? I know nothing of this place. Perhaps once, but not anymore," I couldn't help but ask the question that was troubling me.

"But you are very attractive...," the robber took a step closer.

That caught me off guard. Completely.

"Look, I'm flattered, truly, albeit a little bit disturbed...," I let loose a slight chuckle. "Um, though it might end up in my death, I think I should point it out... I'm not gay."

The person was slowly moving closer, and bent forward, his hands around his helmet, poised to pull it off.

But instead of an ugly male face that I had been expecting, that wasn't what was under the helmet.

"You... You're the girl from earlier, that I met at the apartment."

"Don't worry," she smiled. "I'm not gonna hurt you-"

"Thank God," I sighed.

"-much, I hope," she completed her sentence.

~♥~

Hi there, and thanks for leading the latest chapter!

I don't have much to say... I just wanted to say thanks, I guess.

*sneaks off to go play Pokémon Black on the Nintendo DS*

Have a lovely day, everyone!

Generation 4, Chapter 2: Whatever floats your boat

The existence that I led lacked originality. I was an amateur archaeologist who had yet to make any real interesting discoveries, and I sure wasn't going to find anything like it by staying in Bridgeport. How I got Jack to convince me to come here still boggled my mind.

Jack Harrison had been my best friend since 8th grade. Though he may have been the most childish person I had ever met, having teased me about my glasses all the way through Maths, we ended up as friends after we both got detention for starting a fight. He stood by me after the loss of Sarah, so in turn, I had to stand by him.

I was doing him a huge favor. His parents forced him to start in the military to learn some discipline. I doubted that it would work, but they were out of options. My best friend nearly fled the country, had I not intervened and convinced him to comply with their wishes. His parents agreed to a compromise, and that he would live out his party lifestyle before enrolling in the military.

Everyone won in the end, except me.

"Exactly how does this coffee machine work?" Jack called from the kitchen, visibly fiddling around with some of the buttons. In his rather agitated state, he gave the coffee machine a hard smack.

I sighed. "Just read the instruction manual, Jack."

"The manual might have gotten burnt by one of my cigarettes last night...," he lowered his head, peeking around his mug as coffee suddenly spurted out of the machine. "But it seems that's no longer necessary. The age old tradition of slapping the machine seems to work best!"

"You were lucky... And you really need to stop smoking. You've burnt holes in almost all of your clothes."

"Lucky or not, it works again... Or maybe not. Dude, this stuff seems to be half solid, half liquid. Is that normal?"

For all his supposed handiness that he kept boasting about, Jack was useless at fixing things when the opportunity presented itself. In the past, three toasters had broken, and all three times Jack had electrocuted himself by trying to fix it. He was a walking time bomb for disasters.

The very unmanly scream that emanated from the kitchen was enough to make me peel my eyes away from the screen and actually pay attention to what he was doing. "Jack, what the hell?"

"I was trying to make the coffee stop from coming out," he said, rubbing his eyes that had been reddened by the steam attack. "It had the opposite effect, but hey, now I have a coffee flavored brownie covered in the same flavored sauce."

"Whatever floats your boat," I cringed away at the idea of what was sloshing around in his mug. "And I'm not referring to the mixture currently occupying that mug."

"You're such a sour worm, you know?" Jack shook his head as he rounded the kitchen counters. "It's at times like these we need Sarah here again. Anyways, I watched something that you'll find really interesting. See, there's this story..."

The remark stung, and everything entered a stage of being hazy. It didn't feel real, sitting in the living room with my best friend yammering on about subject that he found interesting. My kept kept wandering off to the image of Sarah. The only girl I had ever really loved, the one who now troubled my dreams every night, turning them into nightmares. I had taken countless medicines to counteract them, but they never worked.

"Dude," Jack's handed started waving in front of my face, more specifically in front of the eye region, "are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

Clearing my throat, I shifted my position on the couch, forcing my attention back to him. "Sorry, what did you say?"

He groaned in response. "Dammit, Daniel. I went through a lot of trouble explaining it, but just because you're a good friend, I'll explain it again... Don't you think it's ironic how you have the entire name of a character from Stargate: SG-1? And then you follow his career path...mostly. Worst of all, I have the name of a general from that story, and then there's-"

"I fail to see the irony in that," I interrupted him when that fact suddenly dawned on me. Most of my attention had wavered away from him, but it was enough to notice that mistake.

"You don't? Huh... So maybe it's not irony. You know how bad I am at language and all of its bloody terms. Then it's just weird, isn't it?" he plumped down next to me, deep in through about his newest revelation. The aroma emanating from his mug ended up being pleasant, much to my surprise.

"I guess so," shrugging, I turned the TV on, skipping through the channels until I found one broadcasting the weather.

I hadn't expected Jack would abruptly rip the remote away from me and shut the TV off.

"What was that for?" I exclaimed as he threw the remote on the floor.

"Danny boy...," Jack stared into my eyes, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. He never did say whether or not he was gay. I sure wasn't. "Something's bothering you, and I want you to tell me about it. What it...that dream? About you-know-who?"

On his first try, he had guessed right. Sighing, I buried my face in my hands. Hearing that fact coming out of someone else's mouth made it so much worse. "Yeah."

"Oh, man... Me and my big mouth. Sorry that I brought it up, it was a mistake."

"It doesn't matter... I think about her everyday, Jack. Her face keeps haunting me."

"No no no, you can't allow that, Daniel," he firmly shook his head. "It's been four years. You need to let her go, otherwise you're never going to find another girl. You're be forever alone, just like those those memes suggest."

The way he easily judged me aggravated me. He hadn't been the one that was engaged. He wasn't the one who was in love. And he sure wasn't the one that stood by, watching her die. "You'll be singing a different tune when you lose a loved one."

"And that's exactly why I don't form lasting relationships. It protects me from getting hurt."

"In the end, you're just gonna be a sad old man with no one to love," I growled, grudgingly getting up from my seat to turn the TV on.

"I don't entirely think so," Jack chuckled, missing the seriousness in my voice. "I get the chance to look at pretty girls, like your sister over there."

"You're despicable," I rolled my eyes. "You'd never stand a chance at dating my sis, and my dad would skin you alive if you tried pulling a move on her. While she's a guest at our apartment, you're going to have to treat her with some respect."

"Hey, don't you go saying anything to your pop just yet. It's Darcy's decision who she wants to go out with, okay, and if it happens to be me..."

"Jack, she cut her hair super short when you complimented her on how nice her long hair looked. I think the chances of that are definitely zero."

"It helps to be hopeful," he shrugged. "With my attitude on life, I'm never depressed like you are."

"I'm not depressed," I gritted my teeth, "I'm just struggling to deal with the loss of someone I cared for, alright?"

"Alright, keep lying to yourself for all I care. I'm just saying you need to get closure or something."

"Closure..." The word stuck with me, my thoughts reeling with all the possibilities to what it meant. To get closure, I had to go back to where everything happened. "Jack, for once, you're right. I need to go to Paris."

"Huh...," he raised an eyebrow, not completely understanding the implications of that statement. "Hey, whatever floats your boat, I guess!" he laughed, repeating the words I had used earlier.

Generation 4, Chapter 1: The nightmare

"Oh, Danny! You know I can't do that!" Sarah giggled profusely, cringing away from me as I reached over to tickle her.

"What's another five minutes away from the art gallery? Your boss can't fire you just because of that," I argued, but sensed that I was going to lose this battle. Sarah had never been one to bend the rules for her own pleasure, even if she wanted to. She was the kindest person I had ever met, and the best fiancée I could ever have wished for.

"This is Paris, Daniel. The people here are a lot different than back home, and probably not as lenient."

"Sarah, you're right, this is Paris, the city of love. We're supposed to be enjoying our little vacation, not work our butts of as a student. I'm sure your boss could understand the fact that you need some more time with your fiancé."

"Nope," she shook her head with a smile. "No can do."

"You are so stubborn," I laughed. "Alright, if you don't want to take off some time, how about I accompany you to your place of employment?"

"I don't know... Isn't that stretching the rules a bit too thin? I'm not sure company rules allow that."

"Sarah, come on! Throw me a bone or something!"

"Okay, okay, just because you asked so nicely. I'll tell my boss you, a friend, were dying to see some of the exhibits before the gallery has officially opened. He can't argue against that."

As Sarah was impatient to walk all the way back to the art gallery, I offered to drive her there, something that was a rare sight in Paris. The city was so beautiful, you never wanted to climb into a car and let the sights pass you so fast. You wanted to savor it for as long as you could before reality hit you in the face.

All the way up in the elevator, Sarah kept dancing around the cramped space, teasing me, tickling me the way I always tickled her. She was the complete opposite of me, playful and kindhearted. I was always the serious one, but Sarah, she changed me.

"This place...it looks fantastic. Where did you get all of this stuff?!"

"A lot of it is on loan from the Egyptian and Chinese government. After a few months, we'll have to return it."

"So it's a good thing I decided to drop in for a little visit," I chuckled.

"Yes, it is," she blew me a little kiss from where she stood at the flower bush. "Just don't go telling everybody about your 'secret visit'."

"That won't be necessary," a voice emanated from the elevator, and as the doors opened, a black clad individual stepped out. His attire wasn't what scared me. What was in his hand was a lot more threatening.

And he was pointing that gun at Sarah.

"Where are the most valuable pieces of art, woman?" the figure kept his weapon pointed at her.

"T-there aren't any!" she cried out, taking a step back and almost tripping over into the small pool connected to the fountain. "The art gallery isn't open yet because most of the artifacts haven't arrived yet. We only have smaller objects on display currently..."

The man smirked. "Your loss, then."

I didn't hear a thing, but I knew what had happened, because in that moment, all I could see was the fear that shone in Sarah's eyes, the obvious pain she was feeling.

He had shot her.

"Daniel," she yelped out, her hand dropping to her stomach. When she took it away, it was covered in blood.

It was as if a movie was taking place in front of me. Sarah sunk to the ground in slow-motion, her eyes still locked on mine. She kept calling to me, but I could not hear her. Her voice had completely faded to a whisper.

That wasn't the only problem on hand. In the corner of my eye, I could see the gun being pointed at me. I was next.

"So, lover boy, how you doin'? I guess you're ready to tackle me now, huh?"

The feeling of hatred that stirred in me was powerful, and all I wanted to do was let it go and murder the man before me. But I couldn't. I was frozen where I stood.

"Guess not, then," he laughed darkly. "Seems like you didn't care too much for her, in the end." Like the coward he was, the culprit turned and ran into the elevator, quickly travelling back to the ground floor. I prayed that someone would see him running away, and call the police.

What had just took place finally started to sink in, and I fell to my knees, sobbing. Sarah was dead because of me. I had promised to protect her from everything and everyone, yet when the moment presented itself, I froze, and it cost her her life.

Crawling all the way to where she lay on the floor, I took her motionless body, hugging it against me. The blood that stained her dress now stained mine. If only we could have shared the pain, and everything that had followed.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah... I failed you."

~*~

The clock read exactly 12:03 AM. I had barely gotten any sleep during the night. I should have been used to it by now. I never got enough sleep.

The nightmare came, every night, as if it had scheduled a meeting with me. It was never late, too. For the past four years, it was recurring, and there was no sign that it would ever stop.

Sarah's eyes would forever haunt me. I blamed myself for what happened, and for good reason. Maybe I deserved the nightmares. It was punishment for the fact that I lived and she didn't.

I would never be able to forgive myself.

Gen. 4: Character bios

This is for those who wish to catch up on past chapters and characters without going through all the trouble of reading everything, but most importantly, to learn a little more about the characters' personality.

[Some of the characters' names have been inspired by characters from Stargate: SG-1, if any of you were wondering]

Generation 4: Character bios

Heir

Daniel Jackson

The eldest son of Richard and Amelia Jackson, Daniel is the one that is the most moral of the family, inheriting that quality from his mother. Egypt and its wonders has always fascinated him, inspiring his career, which was to become an Archaeologist. He completed his studies and gained his PhD at the age of 24.

Daniel was engaged to longtime girlfriend Sarah McMullen, but lost her after a incident in Paris, where the art gallery was almost robbed.

Family

Darcy Jackson

The youngest daughter of Amelia and Richard Jackson, and the little sister to Daniel, Darcy is far more eccentric than anyone in her family. Her personality is almost like that of Bridget Webber, her grandmother's sister. Luckily, she is not as reckless as Bridget, and expresses her personality in a funky way of dressing, and painting, which as become her occupation.

Other

Sarah McMullen

Born to a wealthy family, Sarah broke from family tradition and away from its business and pursued Arts and Culture, eventually becoming the curator of several well known art galleries.

She was a good friend to Daniel Jackson, becoming his girlfriend during high school, and later, his fiancée. Unfortunately, Sarah met an early demise as the art gallery she was working at was almost robbed, and ended in her death.

Jack Harrington

Jack is Daniel's best friend since high school. The two were so close that Jack accompanied Daniel to Bridgeport. 

He has been known to be quite childish and always cracking jokes at the expense of others, and not interested in settling down quite yet. This has led his parents to enroll him into the military, where he met Samantha, who later joins their group of friends.

Samantha Casey

Samantha is an intelligent young lady who enrolled in the military to escape the stereotype that women are push overs. She prefers that people call her "Sam", which has led to some mistaking her for a male when first hearing about her.

Joining the military came with an ulterior motive. Her entire family had enrolled in the air force. She, of course, wanted to be different. After much contemplation and many arguments, she was recruited into the air force by her father, who served as a brigadier general.

Though she has reached the title of "Doctor", having completed her studies in Psychology, most people refer to her by her rank, which is captain.

Vala Ducci

Vala, alternately known as Valencia Larissa Ducci, is a mysterious character, hailing from London, England. There have been rumors that Vala has gotten tangled on the wrong side of the law, but nothing has been proven by authorities.

She is a smart and cunning, yet cheerful personality, who is known for her crude humor, and is visibly attracted to Daniel, but masks that fact with more of her silly jokes.

Mitchell Gilbert

Mitchell is a British/Portuguese student whom Daniel encountered (and later befriends) in Paris. He has expressed an interest in artistic things, contradicting with Daniel's personality. Mitchell finally made his way to Bridgeport to pursue his career of sculpting.

Rumor has it he has an eye on Darcy, as they both work in the Art industry.

Lucy Willett

She is one of the rare characters that actually share Vala's hardy past. Though in contrast with Vala, both of her parents abandoned her, and she ended up at an orphanage, where she was eventually snatched up by the secret crime syndicate. 

Lucy carries a brave face, but she is quite vulnerable on the inside, which was exploited once by Vala on a previous mission, which caused Lucy to carry a grudge against her that won't easily be forgotten.

Generation 3, Chapter 15: Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight

"Sure, we can talk. Do you need...something?" the confusion in his eyes was clear. I found it almost comical, given what I was about to tell him.

"Kind of," I bit my lip. "More like my entire memory, to be exact."

"...What?"

My gaze fell on the picture on the table as I struggled to find the words to explain everything to him. Honesty was usually the best policy, unless it got you burned, which, in this case, it wouldn't. Unless Richard was some kind of pyromaniac.

"I feel like an empty shell, Ric. I see these photos of my life, a life that I no longer have. Screw that idea, I want it back."

"Lia...," he nearly took a step forward. "Do you know what that means? It not only means your memories, but...your family. Me. It means that you're gonna come live with us again. Are you really ready for that?"

My chin jerked upwards. "One hundred percent."

My answer frightened him in a sense. He was obviously worried, yet I had no way to reassure him that I hadn't gone entirely nuts.

"You're ready, perhaps, but I still don't know how to bring your memories back. Hypnosis, maybe?"

I simply rolled my eyes at his suggestion. All this time he still held on to that silly notion of hypnosis. "I was actually thinking of something else... Could you perhaps take me to a place that was really important to me?"

"Sure" he grabbed his car keys off of the table, motioning me to follow him to the outside.

As Richard quickly zipped his car past many others, a thought struck me. "The beach. That's where you're going, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," he frowned, looking over at me. "How did you know?"

"I don't... It just hit me. I feel attracted to it, in a sense."

He smiled as he parked his car a few feet away from the sandy beach. "That's a good sign."

Like all the things in Lucky Palms, even the beach was as perfect as the rest of the town. It carried a peaceful aura with it. Perhaps that was why I liked it so much.

"Too bad I didn't think to bring a swimsuit. The water's really great this time of year," commented Richard as we walked around in search of a sliver of shade to sit under.

"Something tells me I like this place for other reasons than just swimming..."

"What now?" he asked when a half hour had past, and I was still sitting in silence. "Did you really think that if you came to a special place in your memories that you would suddenly remember?"

"I didn't think that," I smirked. "I was kind of waiting for you to tell me our life story."

Maybe my idea was even sillier than hypnosis, but I didn't want to fall in a deep sleep just to see everything of my past. I wanted someone to tell me all about my life. Judging from the way they would tell it, I would know if it had a happy ending or not, and if the person actually cared for me.

Richard fell silent, and I almost feared that there would be another few hours ahead of us that only consisted of silence. "It all started with a nerdy guy that had way too much self confidence and a shy yet fierce girl that had the IQ of Einstein...," he started speaking slowly. "One morning, I had had enough with my roommate being a total ass, and I went to clear my head. Never would I have thought that I would meet someone with a bigger attitude than me."

Hours passed by in a blur, but it wasn't in silence. There were laughs, there were tears, there were smiles, and there were frowns as Richard told me our story. From the first Halloween we spent together, where I dressed up as a princess and he dressed up as a vampire to chase me down, to the time I sat our house on fire. During my wedding, the cake exploded and the rings went missing. He said I nearly fell to my knees in tears, but that my father saved the day, bringing a new cake and having found the rings in the destroyed cake. Some cheeky child had apparently had a lot of fun pulling a prank on all of us by doing that.

Richard delved deeper into the story, bringing up small details like how I sang Daniel to sleep with the song Lips of an Angel by Hinder. In a small voice, he brought up the devastation we faced with the miscarriage, but the happiness we had finding out that we would later have a little girl.

I couldn't expect Richard to speak the entire afternoon, as he was already exhausted from having worked through the night. His head hit the mat with a thud, and almost instantly, snoring followed. I couldn't help but laugh. For all his outward perfection, he actually snored, just like any other person.

The life I had was worth living, it seemed. Though I still didn't have memory back, the things he told me felt familiar. With enough prodding at the buried memories, they would come back. They had to.

Sneakily, as to not arouse Richard from his nap, I crawled off of the mat and stood up, walking down to the water. I had some more thinking to do.

It was almost an hour later before Richard realized I wasn't where I was supposed to be. His feet were crunching over the sand with surprising speed, and I felt the heat given off by his body.

"Amelia?" his hands lingered at my arms. "Are you alright...?"

"No, I'm not," I bit back the tears that wanted to come. "Everything sounds so great about the past, and yet, I still don't remember a thing."

His hand rested lightly on my shoulder, and he twirled me around to face him. I almost fell over my own two feet, had he not caught me.

"As clumsy as always," he chuckled. "It doesn't matter if you remember or not, dear Lia. We can remake those memories, you know. We have the rest of eternity for that. It all depends on whether or not you're willing to be stuck with me for that time."

"I think I can be tolerable of you for that time. You just need to be patient with me. I might mess things up...like, all the time, even."

"I can accept that...," he smiled, holding my hands tightly in his. The way he frowned told me that there was something weighing heavily on his mind. He was dying to tell me something.

"Is there...something you need to get off of your chest?"

"There is. It may seem stupid to you...hell, I find it stupid. But Liam suggested this, and I believe it won't hurt to try..."

The feeling I had when hearing Liam's name was still there. It was that of distrust and dislike. He still spooked me at times. "If you think it can help, then please, start talking!"

He laughed to himself. "Alright, you asked, so don't laugh. He said that I should try doing something like they do in all those fairy tales. You know, kiss the damsel and maybe all her problems will be resolved. What if I kiss you, and maybe, just maybe, all your memories return?"

"Eh..." I couldn't keep the skepticism out of that one sound. It definitely was a stupider idea than the one I had.

"Just forget I mentioned it..." Richard turned his face away from me, laughing to himself.

"Richard?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

A/N: Yes, I'm actually going to end the generation like this...

And the title is a lyric from the song "Just A Kiss" by Lady Antebellum.