It had been five years today, Eugene noted distantly as he wandered about the near-empty gallery.

Five years since the death of Trevor, two since Arlene had slipped back into her old ways. She'd started drinking again around 6 months after it all happened, he figured, because that's when the trial had began, causing him to leave the school. It was difficult enough walking into that classroom everyday, to stare at that chair. Besides all that, his love of evoking passion in students was dead. Whenever he saw that spark, that raised hand, he thought of Trevor, Trevor and his amazing, life-changing philosophy.

He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, as he studied the gallery's latest addition.

"I can't do it anymore Eugene!"

"Do what, Arlene? Function like a normal human being, like Trevor would have wanted?!"

"Look at you! Watch you wondering around here like an empty shell, like a broken man. At least I have a job, at least I put food on the table! So what if I have a little drink now and then to take the edge off!"

"Of cause I'm a broken man, Arlene! We lost our son!"

"No. Eugene. I lost my son, you lost a student. A labrat."

It had been around 3 years since that late December night, when he'd watched her platinum blond hair sway about her shoulders as she spun about on her heel, heading for the door.

"Arlene, where are you going?"

With an almost malice smile upon her thin lips, she turned to look at him again. "You know what they say about misery, Gene. I'm going back to Ricky, back to someone who actually understands."

That was the last time they'd spoken. She was officially gone now, her suicide had been splashed across nearly every newspaper in the country. To him, however, she'd died a long time ago.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled back his shoulders, and made his way back to his post. Along with Arlene and Trevor, he too, had died. At least, that part of him, and with that, the Pay it Forward theory. He was a changed man now, not exactly broken, as Arlene had said, but certainly damaged. Now, he just wanted to move on with his life. He was sick of the apologies from strangers, people that hadn't known him, or Trevor. So, while his therapist begged him to stay, he'd followed his instinct and moved. Moved someplace where not many would recognise him. Where he could just be Eugene Simonet, the Art Gallery security guard.

"Why can't I live with my mum?"

Her perfume caught his attention, before her response did. A sweet mixture of Jasmine and Peach, two scents he'd never really imagined would blend so well together.

She stopped in her tracks beside him, paying him no attention, her eyes fixed on the child standing in front of her, staring back defiantly. "Is that what you really want?"

"No." The young boy muttered, and Eugene could sense the pain behind his voice. Determined as he was to hide it, he shrugged casually. "I just don't see the point if he doesn't want me here."

"Of cause he wants you here sweetheart, he's just...busy...Mikey!"

She huffed as the boy raced ahead, through the metal detectors and in the direction of the painting Eugene had been staring at earlier. From the corner of his eye he watched her close hers tightly, and take a deep breath tilting her head back and rolling her shoulders; gaining composure.

Suddenly, she flung them open and marched through the metal detectors towards the boy, unaware of the fact she'd set them off. The alarm had been broken since last Tuesday, so Eugene had to be careful to watch the light that sat discretely on top each time someone walked in.

"Excuse me, Ma'am!" He was surprised at how meek his voice seemed as she surged forward, still calling the boys name.

"Miss!"

This time, his voice echoed the huge hall; his colleagues and other visitors all turning to look at him, his hand hovering over his stun gun, simply out of habit rather than instinct or need.

In confusion, she looked between him and the boy, who stared on in amusement. "I'm sorry, we're just having a bad morning." She began to explain, then rolled her eyes. "I don't know how many times I've told him not to run in here." Her focus fell to his hand and weapon, and she shifted the bag on her shoulder nervously.

"Actually, I need to search you" He explained bluntly, gesturing to his post where the hand-held metal detector lay. "You set off the alarm."

"I did...? I didn't hear it."

"That's because the actual alarm is broken, but the light flickered" He muttered, frustrated with having to explain.

"Where's Miles?!" The kid yelled from his spot in front of the painting, rather than moving closer to them.

"Michael, what have I told you about yelling? And you know what happened to Miles"

Shaking her head, she began walking back to the post with Eugene. "Don't let him pull one over on you, he's cunning just like his dad. He knows what happened to Miles."

"That makes one of us, at least." He remarked, simply to spark light conversation. He found people got less irritated if they believed he actually liked them, and was only following procedure.

"Oh, he got fired for searching me." She joked, handing him her bag as her younger usher finally wandered over.

"I'm afraid the rules apply to everyone"

Surprised by his stony exterior, she folded her arms across her chest. "It was a joke, Eugene." She explained, a lot less friendly now, reading his name from the badge on his shirt. "Mile's wife had twins."

"Good for him" He muttered bitterly, running the portable detector over her left arm.

"You won't find anything." She began, "I've got pins in my knee. I fell offstage performing a few years ago, the medical certificate's in my handbag."

"You don't have to explain to him!" Michael exclaimed, mimicking his father down to a tee. "Do you even know who she is?"

"Mind your manners, sweetie." She scorned lightly, running a hand through the boy's thick, brown hair. "He has to do this to everyone."

Eugene stood up, having found nothing on the woman, and began to search her bag for the papers. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt for the way he'd spoken to this woman who obviously struggled to keep her stepson in line, his past had reared its ugly head and he'd taken it out on her. Something about it just wasn't right.

"Mr Simonet! What on Earth do you think you're doing?"

"Oh calm down Steven, he's just doing his job. No harm done!"

"I can't apologise enough Mrs Sanremo. He's new to town."

"Honestly, I don't mind. Don't give him a hard time, Steven."

Why was she defending him all of a sudden? In the rare event that he did have to search people they'd leave in a hurry, offended and slightly humiliated. In stark contrast, she stood there with her head high, clipping her chocolate-red hair up above her shoulders, between the two men.

"What's the point of hiring a bodyguard if you plan to reprimand them for doing their job? Hm?"

While his boss glared at him, he backed off. "Will I see your husband at golf this Saturday?"

"He'll be there with bells on." Under her breath, Eugene heard her add a whispered "Unfortunately" as Michael rolled his eyes and stormed out of the building.

In awe of the situation that had just unfolded around him, Eugene just had to find out who this woman was. A singer maybe?

"So, Eugene, am I free to go?" She teased, shooting him a perfectly straight, white smile.

Scanning the medical certificate between his fingers, he nodded slowly until his eyes fell on her name. Kate. Kate Sanremo, maiden name, Edwards. The name didn't seem familiar to him, and it slipped from his mind almost as easily as he had read it. While he used to be in the know when it came to the rich and famous when he taught, he was a different man now.

"Of cause, Mrs Sanremo. My apologies."

"Oh please, call me Kate. Don't worry about your boss, he doesn't get much at home so likes to take it out on anyone who's willing to cop it."

Unwittingly, Eugene smiled for the first time since it had all happened. Her blunt honesty, which lay in perfect union with the impression his boss had given, ammused him all too much. "Alright, Kate. I'll keep that in mind."