Note: Hey guyyysss, okay so, the 1st chapter is either always the longest or the shortest, but bare with me, I swear these chapters get a bit more reasonably sized (longer) XD. Anyways, ENJOY!

To be entirely honest, he wasn't exactly sure how to feel. His hero had been nothing he had ever thought he was except a scientific genius. When Flint and the gang had gotten back to their little apartments in SanFran Jose to collect all their things and jumpstart their new lives in the jungles of Swallow Falls, Flint couldn't help but feel devastated. As Chester V stared proudly back at him from a scuffed and faded poster on his wall, an overwhelming sense of defeat had come over him. He couldn't really bare to look at the poster. His legs felt a little weak under him, so he sat on his dingy little couch cot and sighed. Sam was busy with the packing of her own apartment, and his dad was helping the others get their boxes onto the boat. This was the first time he was left to his own thoughts in days. He was breathless and shocked after finally realizing that everything he ever aspired to be was a lie. Flint knew that he hadn't lost everything though. If anything, he gained so many more things since before the FLDSMDFR, and he had so much to look forward to as well, but still, it was hard. Chester V's success and popularity was what always helped lift Flint's spirits since he was a kid. He never gave up, even if he had hidden bruises and scratches and shivered in his locker at school some days to avoid any confrontations from unfriendly parties. The photos and torn out scraps of articles from Liv Corp that Flint kept on his person at all times were his friends, and had supported him throughout his childhood, even when the going got tougher.

Running his fingers though his unruly mop of brown hair, he looked up at the poster and spoke, "I don't understand. You were the greatest scientist this world had ever seen, and yet, you were completely out of your mind. I can't even begin to express the confusion I feel. All my life, you were my hero and I considered you a friend, but now that I look at you, you're a stranger. You tried to kill me! I mean, all I ever wanted was for you to appreciate my work and share with me your thoughts on everything!"

Unconsciously, Flint waited for a reply that never came, and then he put his face in his hands. Truly, up until the last moment of Chester's existence, he believed that Chester would turn around and realize that he could be good again. Although it seems ridiculous given everything Chester had done, Flint would have forgiven him. 'Maybe he was just lost, like I was. Maybe he really had no one to look to except his work, which would completely explain his obsession! Maybe…Maybe…Maybe…' Flint thought, trying to conjure up excuses for Chester's actions. Flint just didn't understand why; if anything, he just wants know why Chester betrayed everyone and lied to him. He shook his head and stood up, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You ruined it! You ruined everything! We could have all been an awesome team if you just listened to me and gave up and truly apologized. For a really smart guy, you're pretty STUPID! I would've even given you the machine if you had just asked in the first place before all of this! If that got you to notice me I would have given it straight to you, because I believed in you!" Flint argued, pointing a finger at the poster before hurling a ball at it from the little garbage can by his feet. He grunted and balled his fists, trying to contain his new frustration. He'd rather have gone his whole life not knowing that his hero was a cheat and a scum bag, living blindly, believing his hero was truly everything that was great in this world.

Sam would've thought he was crazy if he said any of this to her. She would have gone into a rage, because Chester nearly destroyed all of Flint's friends, he nearly sentenced thousands of foodimals to their deaths before they where even created, and nearly killed him—no, Chester did kill him in a way. He wasn't sure in what way but he didn't want to delve into finding out; Flint felt a little less full then before this whole Liv Corp. "incident" and that's all he knows. He wouldn't tell anybody about this—he couldn't, but this would be the last time, he hoped, that he'd ever truly think about this mess. So with heavy hands, he took down the poster and crumpled it up. His expression was that of a wince and slight jolt, as if someone suddenly ran their nails down a chalkboard as he crumpled it up, and dropped it on the floor. The process was repeated for every poster in his room, and anything of Liv Corp or Chester. Flint guessed this was what needed to happen in order for Flint to truly move back to Swallow Falls. He won't be the same, and neither will Swallow Falls, but that's okay, he assumes. Flint decided to get his show on the road, and really start his life over again.

He begins to put random objects from around the house into empty boxes to ease himself into the process. Not really paying attention while he mindlessly put dishware and cutlery into boxes, one of the plastic cups he was packing up missed the box and bounced off, sending it tumbling to the floor and rolling to the other side of the room. Flint rolled his eyes and trudged over to swipe it up. It had been stopped in its tracks by an old, taped up box with faded writing on the side that was almost illegible. Flint narrowed his eyes to try and read it, and came out with the word "—anny". Curious because he had never seen this box lying around before, he dragged the box to the foot of his bed to pop it open and comfortably inspect its content. With his personal laser pen he was able to seer off the tape and flip open the box flaps. To Flint's surprise, sitting at the top was a cracked, framed photo of his mother in a yellow polo with a tiny smile. Flint made a double take of the side of the box and realized that the word spelt "Franny", his mother's name. Flint nodded slightly noting that the tiny groups of boxes in the corner were packed with his mother's belongings. He wasn't sure where his dad had kept this stuff in their tiny apartment, or why it wasn't in storage to begin with, but it didn't matter. This had sparked his interest and it was something to push away his earlier thoughts.

Much of the stuff that he sorted through were books and journals, faded and creased. Flint imagined his mother had had a journal with her everywhere she went, and when she was done with one, would immediately start carrying around another as if by habit. It was very assumable given that his mom was a children's book writer, and a journalist for the Swallow Falls paper. On the inside cover of each journal was a number and a small title for what it was used for. The two dark red ones were for all of her articles that she wrote for the paper, the blue one was a personal journal and there were six brown journals of different shades that contained small stories and cute poems. Aside from those found at the top, there was an old camera, and a thick wooden box at the bottom. Flint left the wooden box for last, and was reading a few passages from the red and brown journals.

He stuck the blue journal in his side pocket, not sure whether he wanted to read it or not, and would save the decision for later, then turned his attention to the mysterious wooden box. He wondered what was in it that needed a lock and a small tag on the side that read "What To Do". It was obviously not empty, and when he shook it it sounded like there were a few solids slamming the sides of the box. Flint, with his handy laser pen cut the lock away and opened the creaky box slowly. The box wasn't big at all, and only held three journals, along with a lot of loose papers that contained walls of messy text and notes. Flint tried to make sense of the notes, and they seemed to have citations near the paragraphs of texts but he couldn't figure out what books the citations were corresponding to. He moved on and inspected the three newly found journals. There was a green one, another blue one of a lighter color and an orange one. Just like the other journals, the inside covers had numbers and small titles. The only thing odd about the orange, and green journals were that the handwritings being very different from his mother's.

As he was sort of skimming the journals, not really comprehending much of it, a folded piece of paper slipped out of the orange one. Flint blinked at it, as it sat in his lap, and set aside everything else to read the slip of paper.

'Franny,

It really has been too many years hasn't it? I don't really even know why I'm writing to you. I could have just mailed you the damn journal and done away with all the memories, but I felt the overwhelming need to write to you. Although you might be disgusted with the fact that I still consider you a friend, don't worry, I promise I'm not going to suddenly try and become buddy buddy with any of you again. I only heard that you were starting to write a book about the "romance between two childhood friends of yours" and could only assume it concerned…him and I. If it isn't about us, well, not only is it embarrassing, but I would suggest you just burn the thing. It's garbage to me. I just thought perhaps you wanted my point of view in the case it was about us? I really have no objections to it, and only hope you keep the story as accurate as possible, for…his sake.

It was hard to let the thing go to be honest. Much of it is very personal but you've got to let things go sometime, right? I'm afraid this journal is the last piece of my old self. I'm moving onto a new age, a better age in fact, but I'm not worried or scared. I'm hoping I've left my past in good hands though.

-C.V

P.S. Congratulations on the baby. I saw the news in the Swallow Falls paper.'

Flint sat in a bit of awe and confusion. His mother was writing a book so packed with drama when he was born? Where was this book? He wanted to read it! He couldn't recall his mother ever publishing a book of this obvious magnitude. He simply had to know what on earth the letter was talking about. Who's C.V? Who's this mysterious lover of their's and why hadn't his mother ever published it? So many questions, but not enough time. In the hall way, he can hear the heavy footsteps of his father and the joyful laugh of Sam along with Steve yelling "Steve~!" as they headed towards the apartment to probably fetch Flint. Flint panicked a little as he threw everything back into the wooden box, closing it, and setting it hurriedly aside, as he began to clean up everything else. As the door opened to the apartment, Flint slid the box back to the corner, retaped and used his Shrink-o-meter to shrink the wooden box and slip it into his lab coat along with his mother's other blue journal. He would have to continue investigating at a later date; for now though, he'd have to pretend as if he never knew anything more about his mother than what his father had told him, as well as what he had witnessed as a young kid.