Final Curtain

Nate's POV

I never thought I'd be happy to see Anna.

Mel had been near a panic attack, looking around the room, at us—especially at me—like we were about to shift into werewolves and tear her to pieces. When Anna got her ass inside the apartment Melissa's terrified eyes clung to her like a life-line.

Aric had texted her a while ago. By the look on her face she was up to speed with Mel's current... memory lapse. My fist clenched on my lap as Anna and her talked in hushed tones, never missing the fleeting glances Melissa stole Aric's way.

She wouldn't even glance at me.

I stopped tapping the ball of my foot. They got up from the couch, Mel tucked russet hair behind an ear before turning around and walking down the hall—I shot from the arm chair ready to go after her.

A firm hand pushed my chest.

I glared at the hand, then, at the person keeping me from my girlfriend.

"You're not going after her," Aric said, and just the calmness of his voice made me want to hit him with a brick. "Don't look at me like that. She's scared and confused, it's not the moment to bombard her with—"

"She doesn't remember me!"

"No," Anna walked up to our side, arms crossed. "She remembers you. She doesn't remember Aric. But she remembers you. Only not the you she loves—or the fact you didn't murder her parents. Or that I'm an assassin. Or anything that happened in the last months."

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock."

"Hey, don't take your anger out on me. I didn't hit her with a rock or something, okay? It's not my fault she forgot."

Aric dropped his hand, eyes moving to Anna's.

"No one's blaming you, darling. He's just angry." Angry. Yeah, no kidding. "I didn't see any bruises on her head..." he mussed.

"So?"

"She's suffering amnesia, but there doesn't seem to be any blunt force trauma. If her head was hurting she would've rubbed it, complained—she didn't."

Anna licked her lips with a head shake, "What does that mean?"

Aric clicked his tongue.

"It looks like a case of repressed memories." We both gawked at him. Rubbing the back of his neck, Aric started, "Memories can sometimes be repressed by a person. It can happen if they're traumatic or associated with a high level of stress. Melissa didn't do it on purpose, her brain did it as a coping mechanism." He shrugged nonchalantly.

We stared at him for, I don't know, felt like five minute straight.

"How the hell do you know that?"

Aric chuckled.

"You're not the only one who went to College, little bro."

"Right," Anna butted in. "You never told me what you majored in?"

"You never asked."

"I'm asking now."

"Can you two focus?"

"We're focused," Anna fired.

"You're flirting."

"We can multi-task," he flashed a daring grin Anna's way. "Psychology. That was my major."

I couldn't say that didn't surprise me. But then again, I had to be the weirdest assassin ever, majoring in law.

I put my hands on my hips, "Okay, so that mystery is solved. How do we un-repress her memories, Doctor Phil?"

Aric's face pinched giving my stomach chills.

"That's... There's not much we can do. Repressed memories may take years to get back, anything and everything might trigger them. A smell, an object, a singular taste." A particular taste—? I was dying to know if my lips were particular enough to make her remember. "But there's also the chance of them never returning. It all depends on the person."

Her memories could be gone forever. She might never remember. I couldn't... I didn't know how to process that. I didn't think it was possible to process it. Words like "but I love her" and "it's not fair" ran circles around me, spinning my brain into a confused mess.

"You guys should go." I looked up from the carpet. Anna winced looking away from me. "I'm going to talk her through everything... It's going to be a long night."

"Okay," Aric conceded. "Just careful with what you tell her. Her brain suppressed those memories for a reason, trying to unwind them is not a good idea. Just tell her what happened—like a story. Don't ask if she remembers and if she tells you to stop, stop. Forcing trauma patients normally has the reverse effect."

Nodding, Anna's forest eyes fell on me.

"Is there... anything you want me to tell her?"

Always, it echoed out through my mind. It was our thing. We'd always be there for each other. We'd always love each other.

Melissa didn't remember it. She didn't even remember I hadn't been the one to kill her parents.

"Goodnight," I said in a deep monotone, turning for the door.

Somewhere behind me I could hear Aric sigh. Outside the apartment, I tapped the elevator button. I pressed it repeatedly—it didn't come any faster. It was all I could do so I wouldn't run back in and shake Melissa by the shoulders, begging her to remember, because I needed her.

My forehead ended up pressed against the cool wall.

A ding rung out. Blindly, I took a step inside—

A warm body bumped straight into me.

Looking down, all I saw was a bleached head and movie-star lips that haunted my dreams. Shaking myself into gear, I backed up so Ashley—our next door neighbor—could walk out of the elevator.

"Sorry," she mumbled rubbing her nose. "I was in a hurry."

"It's fine," it came out as a low grunt.

My mood was growing worse by the minute.

She blinked at me.

"Is something wrong? You look upset." Make that by the second. "If you want to—"

"Everything is fine."

The harsh undertone made her flinch. I didn't apologize. Quickly, she nodded and bee-lined around me, I could hear her unlocking her door.

Aric came out when I was already inside the small confinement called elevator. I hated these things. That had been a perk about my house back in Cali, no cramped spaces to ride in.

Huh.

Good thing I didn't sell the thing, I might need it, since I had nowhere no stay. Because Aric and I weren't about to become roomies, and the only reason for me being in New York was Melissa. If her memories were gone... I stopped myself.

I couldn't be so damn negative, I knew that.

I had to keep faith that Anna telling her what happened in the last few months would jog some tiny part of her memories.

"Are you going to go totally bonkers or what?" Aric didn't bother looking elsewhere when I didn't answer. "I'd feel angry, too."

"No shit."

His lip corners turned up.

I felt so numb all the way to his car, I only realized he wasn't driving us to Queens ten minutes into the car.

"You're not heading for Brooklyn bridge."

"That's because we're not going back just yet." Huh. "All I have back home is beer. I need something stronger tonight."

A quick flashback threw be back one hour earlier. Aric had killed a kid tonight. Cold blood and all. I knew a killer was a killer, no matter if he or she chose to kill bad people or not. But killing kids? I'd never pondered it.

Every time I thought about the little boy on the steps, rubbing his eyes... It bothered me.

Aric had done this for Mel—to get her back. He'd done what needed to be done.

"Sounds good," I dug around the glove compartment where I'd stashed my cigarette pack. I pulled the light from a pocket and lit one. "That sounds really good."

***

Mel's POV

The kitchen was different.

First of all—clean. There were no blood traces, no petals, no signs of struggle. So unlike I remembered it.

My parents' bedroom was different, too. Anna insisted on showing it to me, especially the closet, the drawers, the other toothbrush in the adjoined bathroom.

I swallowed thickly, inching inside the mildly cold room. It had all been remodeled, just like she'd told me.

My hand went to my chest. My best friend was an assassin. A real-live, professional. My parents had been assassins—like her. Two of the best, she'd said. That guy... Nathaniel... was also an assassin—but that hadn't been a shocker. It was the last memory I had.

I remembered waking up in his car, remembered how he'd manhandled me, hurt me and threaten me at... at that gas station.

Next thing I knew, I woke up on my couch. Him being weird and another guy—who was supposed to be my brother?—standing around staring at me.

But that wasn't even the surface. According to Anna, the last six months of my life had been completely repressed.

Hmm. I felt pretty good, though.

Except my wrists are scarred, I thought, flexing my fingers.

Last night, Anna had made coffee and told me all about a Cult named The Order, about the Hive—the assassination company her, my parents and Nathaniel were part of—about my parents' death, about how they'd wanted to keep me safe from their crazy-ass world.

Good job, Mom and Dad, I rolled my eyes feeling snarkiness take hold.

I couldn't explain how I felt, everything felt the same but different. I felt wigged out and yet, I found some humor in all the situation. Pacey wouldn't see humor in any of this if he knew Parker's death had been my fault.

Not that I remembered it. So, there was no actual guilt. Which made me angry and yucky. Shouldn't I feel bad?

Maybe it was one of those 'seeing is believing' kind of things. I'd heard Anna's story but some part of me still had trouble believing it. Like maybe she should take some serious pills, or write a book?

I stopped.

A familiar sketch stared back at me. It was my kidnaper's face—huh, my bodyguard's face. Ugh... my supposed boyfriend's face? God. That didn't sound right, it made me want to puke. I could accept many things. My parents being assassins? They were always distant and mysterious about their work. Anna being like that? A little hard, but she had always been busy on school breaks. Me having a brother—or half-brother? Why not?

Me dating that... person?

I think Anna might've gotten creative with that little detail.

Yet, there it was. His portrait done to perfection, hanging off the fridge. There was no mistaking my drawing style either, I'd done it.

In one fluid motion I ripped the thing off causing the magnet to cackle on the floor. Wasting no time, I balled it up real good and tossed it in the trash.

The kitchen looked brighter already!

Picking up the cola magnet and letting it stick back, I opened the fridge. All I saw were eggs, milk and unopened jerky. Eggs and milk would do. I laid out the stuff on the counter, looking everywhere for a bowl and a pan.

Who'd changed things around? I groaned standing on my tipy-toes to reach into a cabinet.

Setting the unfamiliar bowl down, I found a pan and a stirring-thingy. I cranked up the stove and started breaking eggs—

Ooh.

Next to a brand new blender was a small sound system. Grinning, I clicked on the radio. I cranked the volume, bobbing my head to the rhythm. It was one of those catchy songs, would no doubt be stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

I danced around kitchen still feeling the coffee effects from last night. Anna had poured be a huge mug. I was impressed by how I'd fallen asleep.

I poured the pancake mix into the pan, swaying to the upbeat tune. I felt really... good.

I mean, every time I thought about my parents... a knot formed in my stomach. The thing was, all Anna told hadn't changed how I'd felt about them. They'd done what they did to protect me.

Fine.

But they'd been killed because of the choices they'd made and somehow, I'd gotten pulled into a revenge packed adventure that nearly killed me.

I knew about my two week coma.

I couldn't be bothered to come up with valid reasons for why they'd push me away for twenty years, then, Mom sent me a page with riddles, a map—through some dude named Reed—and I was supposed to carry on her legacy?

Why the hell?

I flipped the pancake sloppily, it almost bit the floor.

I really didn't care.

I drummed my fingers along the marble counter, hips swinging left and right.

"Even if the stars and the moon collide..." I hummed a few mumbles, feeling like I'd kill the song otherwise. "...I really don't care! Oh, oh..." I spun around once the volume got turned down. "Hey!"

"How can you be jumping around? It's too early..." Anna slurred. She was using one of my pj's. "Are those pancakes?"

"Yup," I cocked my hip against the counter, waving the spatula in her direction. "You want some?"

"Smells tasty,"

"Okay. Two more coming up! Grab plates—if you can find them. The whole kitchen has been rearranged."

Anna roamed around with a face that rivaled Garfield's on Mondays. I snickered.

"You're in a good mood,"

"Well, yeah." I shrugged, knowing it seemed a little bit psycho to be so happy with everything she'd unloaded on me. But hey, people coped how they could. "According to you, I had way too many brushes with death. I don't remember them but I bet they weren't fun. So, I'm enjoying being alive."

Anna found plates way quicker than I would've and set them beside the pan. I lifted the first two pancakes onto a plate.

"There's no syrup or chocolate. Eggs, milk and jerky was there was in the fridge."

"That's fine. I'm going to make coffee. Want some?"

"You know I'd live of that stuff if I could."

Flashing the first smile of the day, she said, "You don't need to remind me."

As Anna started the coffee machine, an unsettling feeling covered my bones in a sheet of worry.

"What you told me last night," I started, moving around the third baking pancake. "It was... real? All of it?"

Anna was my best friend. Despite the fact she'd kept a huge secret from me most of our lives—I still trusted her more than anyone else. Call it stupidity.

"Yeah," she whispered. Anna's raven hair swished as she whirled to face me, leaning on the counter. "I know it's a lot. But it's all true."

Wow.

I'd actually survived a murderous Cult. I was either really lucky, or very awesome.

"Okaaay," I dragged out. "That happened." I slipped the spatula under the third goody, this time I flipped it and it ended up on the counter's edge—inches from falling off!

In stunning reflexes, Anna grabbed the empty plate and just before the yellow-crusted goodness flip-flopped on the ground she caught it mid-air.

"How come I never suspected you were a secret ninja? That was so cool!"

Anna snorted a laugh putting the plate down.

"I'm not a ninja. And you're... taking this pretty well."

"I didn't the first time?"

"When you found out I was in the Hive you and Nate had already gone through the motions."

Nate.

Some good golly mood slipped from me as I remembered his hand—his fingers biting down on my shoulder the first time we'd met. Which, for me, had been two days ago.

Anna stayed quiet when I nodded, turning my attention to the last pancake. The coffee machine beeped seconds after I served the last goody. When I was about to suggest we eat our breakfast in the living room, I found my friend staring at the fridge, expression stoic.

"The pancakes are getting cold." I sing-songed.

Anna tilted her head.

"Wasn't there a drawing or something—right here on the fridge?"

Busted.

"There... might have been." I lifted my shoulders in a wordless 'whoops'. "I balled it up and threw it in the trash."

Her jaw dropped so fast it struck me dumb that it didn't hit the cold floor.

"Mel! That was a project—you worked weeks on that!"

"Clearly I did a great job. It looked very life-like. Which was why I trashed it." Anna's lips moved wording no words. "Look," I really wanted to get this over with. My yummy pancakes were getting cold. "I know you said I was supposedly in love with that... person. But whatever it was I might have felt—"

"There was no 'might' about it."

"—I don't feel that now. I don't have the smallest memory of it." She pressed her lips in a taut line. "I'm still processing everything you told me last night, still convincing myself this isn't a dream. That... at any moment I'll wake up. It's a lot."

"I know..."

"But?"

Anna drew her lips in, shrugging.

"But nothing. You're right. You need to digest everything." She smiled—it was a little forced. "What are you doing today?"

"What day is it?"

"Friday,"

"College?"

"Huh," she intoned sitting on the couch. "You missed three weeks of classes and right now... you're different."

I slouched on the other end, frowning.

"Different?"

"You... don't remember Nate?" I didn't see what the big deal was. "You told everyone, Mel. You even introduced him to some people like Pacey, Ginger..."

Good grief.

"Everyone will think it's strange you two broke up after just moving in. Not to mention people will ask where you've been. Last year, you had an excused—a reason—to skip town. This time you don't."

Well, pooh. This new life I'd suddenly landed was messier than a haystack.

Because of that guy I couldn't go to College—because of my other crazy-pants-ass brother I had to come up with a decent reason to go missing for three weeks? Was I ever going to finish sophomore year?

For Pete's sake!

I bit into the crunchy-softness and thought; people didn't necessarily need a College degree to paint or draw. Art was something you either had inside you or didn't. That was the purest fact.

As we ate, Anna told me some normalish factoids my brain had oh-so-kindly deleted. Like her taking a leave of absence from her job at the Hive to attend College. That was a major turnaround. And it made me think again, not everyone needed a diploma to succeed and do what they loved.

From what Anna told me the last few months had been life-changing. In what ways? She hadn't really expanded on them. Except for the whole assassination-squad thing going on. But... I glanced down at my wrists.

For some reason I had forgotten all of it. I grimaced thinking of the horrid scene in the old-kitchen. Well, almost everything. So... could this be a chance? A chance to start over—to not let what happened define me, but also to change who I used to be?

I forked the last sugary piece of pancake, devouring it.

It was time for change.