Final Curtain

Mel's POV

The only sleep I got last night was filled with weird dreams. Now that I thought about it, with a cup of coffee and milk, maybe they hadn't been weird dreams, just memories I'd blocked. They hadn't been strung in a logical sequence and I didn't remember much. But there was this thing. A sound. A loud pop going off and then silence. I woke up after that. I didn't know what the sound was. It was loud and seemed to echo in my ears, not to mention it made me feel a little sick…

"I was coming down here to brew some coffee, but from the smell of it, you've got it done, luv." Aric came in wearing sweatpants and no shirt. He scratched his neck, bending inside the fridge. "Nathaniel told you about our employer?"

"Yep," I nibbled on my toast.

Aric went about making a sandwich of cheese and ham, then poured himself a cup of coffee filled to the brim. I thought he'd spill some on himself when he took the first sip, but he was too cool to spill. He sat across from me.

Aric gestured to the milk carton next to me, "You're lucky Anna comes over so much. She's the reason milk made it into my fridge. I don't like the taste," he trailed off about to gulp. He stopped. "Nathaniel hates the stuff, too." Okay. So, Aric and Anna shipped Nate and me. Good to know we had their blessing.

"What exactly do you do for Nolan?"

Aric scowled, "Dear sister, please let me enjoy breakfast."

"I'm sorry. I guess you could give me a schedule with your working hours? That way, I'll know when you two will be helping re-build the crime organization my parents worked so hard to dismantle."

"Alright, luv, no need for hostile sarcasm in the morning."

"It's almost noon."

He blew out a sigh as if saying 'whatever'.

"Your parents worked to gather evidence on Vincent's organization, true. But we all played our part in bringing it to its knees. Believe me when I say nothing pleased me more in life as the day they started hunting the Order members. But this with Nolan isn't easy, little sister. We need to play by his rules."

"For how long?"

"For as long as it takes." He answered with that calm, serene look that seemed to be his trademark. "Nolan says he's got evidence on us. We need time to figure out where they are or who has them. If there are any copies. And then, we destroy them."

I wagered that was why Nolan was still breathing. Because someone would divulge the evidence if something happened to him. It had to be someone he trusted though, I told Aric just that. My half-brother nodded. It was becoming strangely easy to think of him as a brother. Finishing breakfast, I hopped off the stool. There had to be some way I could help. I'd helped before, right? And out of us three, I was the one with a ton of free time on her hands.

About to cross the kitchen's threshold, I jerked back. My eyes deviated above, stopping on Nathaniel's blond stubble. Before I lost it and reached up to rack my nails across that layer of overnight sexiness, I forced aquamarine eyes to his. Which might have been worse since his were utterly afire at the sight of, well, me.

I drew my arms close, feeling self-conscious about wearing his clothes.

"Morning,"

"It's almost…" I shut my mouth. I noticed he was still wearing his jeans and shirt from the night before. "Whatever. Do you always sleep in your clothes?"

He stifled a yawn glancing down at the wrinkled shirt. Nathaniel shrugged and a lock of wavy hair fell between his eyes.

"No. Sometimes I sleep naked."

My shoulders dropped. And my face got a little red—or a lot.

"That's not what I meant."

He smirked devilishly.

"I know. I'm just messing with you." He side-stepped around me when I didn't budge an inch. He turned on his heel, "We got home late. If I went to change I might've woken you up."

Words failed me. I scampered off without another look at him or Aric. Even with the shitty night I'd had, I couldn't stop biting my lip at Nate's caring. Pushing my warring emotions aside, I grabbed my phone to text Anna—wow. Crap on a cracker. My phone was flooded with unread texts. That's what I got for leaving my Samsung in the living room for the night. I sighed opening the first one.

Surprise, surprise: it was from Jensen. Four texts with lengthy apologies. I briefly scrolled them, feeling angrier at myself than at him. Yesterday, after Nate left, I thought about what Aric told me—that maybe I was attracted to Jensen because in some ways it reminded me of the Nathaniel I'd fallen for. I should've stopped for a minute or two and thought hard about Aric's theory. When I met Jensen something inside me sparked. At every word Jensen said I felt close to something irritating but heartwarming, if that made sense. The smartass talk, the bulging confidence—Ah! Even the love for cars and bikes. I might not remember lots, but one thing I knew, Nathaniel had loved his Mustang.

I still couldn't believe it got blown up in a car chase. Or that I, Melissa Sullivan, survived a shoot-out in the desert. Anna said it was true and that kinda made it gospel truth.

I checked another text. Pacey! My heart jumped. It deflated like a soufflé when Parker came to mind. Shit. Anna said they'd found the dog tags he'd worn on him always. I couldn't remember what that had been like, losing Parker, so I wasn't panicking too bad.

Could really talk to U, can we hang today?

Damn. Pacey got up early. It wasn't even nine when he sent this. My leg was jumpy. What did I do? Hang or make up excuses? Pacey was one of my reasons for quitting college—or was it an excuse to run away? I breathed out. No. I couldn't keep running from everything. Quitting college, avoiding Nathaniel, flirting with Jensen, buying a freaking bike—enough. I needed to stop being stupid just because I felt afraid and adrift. I would face things head-on. Distancing myself from Pacey would only raise suspicion, anyway. I texted back sure and a smiley face.

***

Pacey was picking me up two blocks away from Aric's house. Aric said I shouldn't give away his house's location. I didn't see what the fuss was, it was just Pacey. Lucky me, Anna had some spare jeans at Aric's. I was waiting for Pacey outside a small bookstore since he wouldn't be… I grinned, dropping my arms. There was his Jeep.

Pacey stopped a few feet ahead. I couldn't contain the bubbling excitement as I ran around the car, opened the passenger door and flung myself inside. Pacey choked when I hugged him. A small laugh left him when I pulled back.

"I know we haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks, Missa, but damn. Where did that bear grip come from? Seriously, if Ginger saw, she'd skin us both."

It felt ages since I'd seen Pacey. Because for me it had been a long time. The last thing I remembered was Pacey telling me to go see my parents, right before I found them in the kitchen, butchered.

I couldn't wipe away my grin, "A bestie is allowed to shower another with affection, regardless of his girlfriend's jealousy. It's a rule."

He barked a laugh taking us down the street.

"Well, Ginger and I are still on the outs. So, no harm done." He said with a gruff voice. They were broken up again? I rolled my eyes. "And hey, I'm not saying I don't like it. But being apart this long is your fault, dropout." He reached out, flicking my nose.

"Ouch."

"If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen."

"You talked to Anna?"

"Yeah. She told me you weren't ready to come back. I thought it was weird. You seemed happy with that guy—what's his name again?"

I hesitated. "His name's Nate."

"Yeah, yeah. I don't think I ever saw you that happy. Not even when you and Parker were together." He said his cousin's name with a sad note. I didn't need to fake the sad glint in my eyes, I wasn't sure that could be faked, though. "You guys still together?"

My first impulse was to say 'no'. I bit the inside of my cheek, holding my tongue. Think for a minute, like you should've done with Jensen. Pacey was my best friend, yes. Pacey didn't know about assassins and my amnesia. If I said no, I'd have to come up with a good explanation and I wasn't good at that—not before amnesia or after amnesia.

"Yep," I settled for a little lie, smiling brightly. It was more a hopeful smile. Hope for me and Nate? "I'm just having a hard time deciding what to do with my life. In the career department, I mean. We're studying art, Pace, it's not like I can't draw and paint without a diploma. I just think I can learn so much out in the world, instead of being cooped up in a classroom all day long for God knows how many years."

"I feel a Europe trip coming up."

"What?" I giggled. He showed a small smile wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. How could he be sweating? I was wearing the damn tank top from last night because I didn't have a choice—thank God for Anna's jeans, again.

He gave a lopsided shrug, "You know, you take a year to backpack through Europe to find yourself. The plot of so many movies."

"You're saying I'm a cliché?"

"If the shoe fits…" Pacey chuckled with a quick side-glance.

Pacey should've been watching the road. I hit his arm lightning quick, yelling for him to stop. He hit the brakes in the nick of time, before we crashed into the car ahead. It was a red light. Pacey's chocolate dark eyes bore into mine before snapping back on the road. His eyes strained against the sun. "Sorry, damn sun… Do me a favor and get my sunglasses? They're in the glove compartment."

"Good idea, before you land us in a hospital." I leaned forward, popping the small door. I saw a ton of CD's, tossed receipts… "Pace, I don't see them."

"How about if you move stuff around?" Ha-ha. He was so funny. I did that anyway, not wanting to be accused of being a lazy-ass friend. I half expected a mutant pizza slice to jump me. Thank God my hand didn't land on anything squishy. But no glasses.

I cocked my head, spying him over my left shoulder, "Pace, they're not here…" My eyes saw the glinting needle too late. It plunged into my neck. I writhed—but something was pushed inside me. Injected. What… "Pace?"

Pacey looked on. His hand—the hand holding the empty needle—shook a bit. I saw a stray bead of sweat falling along his face. My best friend swallowed once, eyes shining with determination and something… something else. Something I couldn't bear see in his eyes.

"Pacey…?" I dragged out, feeling my body slump forward. My chin hit the dashboard. I bit my tongue. Blood filled my mouth, I wanted to spit out. Pacey grabbed my shoulders and leaned me into my seat, watching my eyes dull and Pacey was talking hurriedly.

"…I thought I knew you, Melissa. I thought if there was anyone in the world—besides my family—who cared about Parker, it was you. You grew up with him. You went out with him. You fucked him for Christ's sake!" His voice stopped being strong and warm, growing softer, with an icy layer to it. In my brain, it felt like someone was turning down the volume on the whole world around me. Was I blacking out? "I never took you for a liar. But I guess I was wrong. I never knew you, did I?" he sighed. It ended in a strained sob. "You lied to my face about Parker. You pretended to be surprised when I told you he was dead…! I believed you. I believed you like an idiot… No, not like an idiot, you were my friend. My good, normal friend. I was so wrong. So, so wrong, wasn't I?"

Pacey's words filled me as we moved through traffic. I felt my body becoming heavier. My turning hazy. My hands fell on my lap, useless. My right hand landed on something. A… lump? Focus, I ordered my eyes, focus. Blinking once, I looked at the lump in my pocket. Cellphone, I realized after five seconds. With all the stealth my drugged body possessed, I bumped my wrist against the lump, wanting to slide it out. I didn't know if Pacey was looking my away. It was taking all my concentration to not give in and sign off.

I let out a shuddering breath once I saw the phone poke out. A little more. I needed… I needed… My head swam. My eyelids grew heavier. I saw images. Thought I smelt things, too, a damp room, moldy, blood. Chains clinking. Heat. Was that… from when I'd been taken? How my wrists became branded and scarred? I couldn't believe my luck—being kidnapped again? Wait! Hadn't I been doing something important?

I slit my eyes. Couldn't keep them open all the way. I told my fingers to grip the phone. Pull it out, I willed myself. My fingers slipped. Sweaty fingers. Great. Again. Again. I touched the little bit of screen I could, tapping things, apps, hoping I got the texting app soon. It only took four tries. I saw Anna's name before Nate's or Aric's—I clicked. I typed something, trying to write help, but my fingers were clumsy, sliding across everything. I think I sent Anna a message with gibberish and then my forehead hit the window.