Hey, look at me starting another story! XD Whoops. I'll update other ones soon, don't worry. But this idea popped into my head, and I'm really excited about it. Before we begin, though, I'd like to apologize for being MIA lately. This week has been kinda crazy, and I learned some stuff that will change some other stuff and probably change my life forever. It's not big—and it's certainly not bad—but it's still something I have to get used to. Don't worry, I'm not leaving! I promise! I'm just trying to work through real life stuff right now. And if you care about my life, you'll find out what's going on a bit later. I'll probably post about it on my blog. :)

Anyway! Here's another future-fic from me. It's not at all related to WDF, though. This story centers on the child of another main character, and one that doesn't get as much love as he should. Just to warn you, since it's a future-fic, there are quite a few OCs. I hope you don't mind. If you do, go ahead and leave. I won't be offended. (I do hope you'll give it a chance, however.)

This chapter is going to be a bit crazy. I'm jumping right in. Warnings for the death of a main character. If you've ever lost someone you love, tread with care. Later on there will be quite a few intense moments. It's rated T for a reason.

Chapter 1 soundtrack: "I Miss You" by Danny Rayel. Link is on my profile.

I don't own Lab Rats, just Kira and anything/anyone else you don't recognize. Enjoy!

* * * Chapter 1: Life and Death * * *

It was April 24th, 2035. It was the worst day of Kira's life. In some twisted way, it was also the best. In short, it was the day everything began.

Kira marched down the hall with her head held high, trying to keep her lip from quivering. The boots of the guard beside her clicked as they walked across the metal floor. She didn't even pay him any mind. He had escorted her down this hall a thousand times . . . only this time was different. Kira could feel deep in her heart that today would be very different.

The guard stopped in front of the desired room and opened the door. A doctor and a nurse looked up. A man lying on the hospital bed turned his head every so slightly to glance at the newcomers. The guard tilted his head and the doctor and nurse walked briskly out.

"Fifteen minutes," the guard said, and Kira was in the room with the door shut behind her.

The man on the bed smiled. "Kira."

Her eyes welled up with tears; there was no controlling the emotion anymore. "Daddy," she mumbled. "Daddy!" She ran to his bedside, burying her face in his chest. He reached up to stroke her hair. Usually she loved that, but today the pulse oximeter on his finger ran its plastic self through her thick locks. Kira stood up and swallowed.

"Calm down, honey," her dad said. "There. That's a good girl."

Kira took a deep breath and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Control yourself, Kira! You're not a five year old; you're fourteen, for goodness' sake! Act your age.

"H-Hi, Dad."

Her father smiled. "I know you're scared."

"How'd you—"

"A dad always knows."

Of course. "You're going to be okay," Kira whispered. She took a step closer to the bed. Her eyes wandered to the machines behind it. The flashing lights and soft beeps might have soothed her had the situation been different, but now it only meant the reality she didn't want to face: her father did not have a long time left in this world.

"Kira," he said, "Kira, look at me."

She obeyed. Their eyes—the chocolate-brown eyes they shared—locked, and her father smiled at her.

"I've lived a full life," he whispered, his voice getting weaker by the second. "I don't regret anything. You shouldn't either. I've loved watching you grow up . . . and I'm sad I won't . . ." He coughed. "Someday you'll walk down the aisle, and I can't . . ." He paused, emotion choking out his voice.

"Dad, please," Kira whispered, grabbing his hand. She didn't even care about the oximeter this time. "Don't talk like that."

"I only wish I could've given you a free life," he continued. "Not in this prison."

"Someday I'll get out."

"You'll do it without me."

"No, Dad, please." She stopped and bowed her head. A realization had hit her, but she was terrified to share it. Looking into his eyes, however, she knew she had to. "You'll be free long before I am. Dad, if anything, I'm jealous of you." She knelt down and put her forehead on the edge of the bed. "Take me with you." A tear rolled down her cheek and her shoulders shook.

"Kira, where I'm going, you cannot come. At least, not yet. You have so many adventures ahead of you. I know that whatever you do, you'd make me proud."

"I'll try. Dad, I swear I'll try to make you proud."

Kira looked up into her dad's face. He smiled at her. He was such a great man; why did this happen to him? Why was he here, like this? It wasn't fair. He was only thirty-seven, and even if that was old to Kira, it wasn't so old that he should die. He had nearly half his life ahead of him. Why, oh why? It wasn't fair.

No one would tell her what was wrong with her dad. Some kind of terminal illness that slowly ate away at his life, they said. There had to be more to it than that, though. Kira knew deep down that this "illness" was not natural. It was because of their captors, their conditions. She knew because her mother had died of a similar "illness" only five years earlier. Half of the residents of this prison were sick or dead already from the same thing. Everyone on the island knew it was no accident. Her mother had been murdered, others had been murdered, and now her father had been murdered too.

It's so not fair . . .

"Kira."

She looked up at his voice. His face held a new urgency on it. Her heart sped up in a dreadful mix of anticipation and fear.

"I need you to do something," he continued. His eyes wandered to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. "In there. It will . . . it will get you started."

Kira stood up and moved to the other side of the bed, close to the wall. Out the window she could see the waves lapping against the shore. She pulled her eyes away and opened the drawer. Inside was a metal ball with a red button on the top.

"Is it some kind of bomb?" Kira asked. She took a step back. Had her father gone crazy?

He laughed softly, coughing immediately after. "No, not a bomb. A treasure. Pick it up, but do not press the button."

Kira obeyed, lifting the object and observing it. A small slit ran across the circumference, indicating that this sphere could be opened—most likely by pressing the button. "What's inside?"

"A treasure," he repeated.

"Can I open it?"

"No. There's only one person I want to open it . . . one person who will know its true meaning. There is only one person in the world who can appreciate it for what it is."

"Who?"

"Your grandfather."

Kira's eyebrows knitted together. "But Grandpa is dead."

"Not the one who gave you those," he said, gesturing to her neck. "The other one."

"Mom's dad? But he's dead too. Plus he was crazy."

Her father sighed. "No, no. Not him. Not the grandpa you grew up with, either. Your real grandpa."

As it finally sank in, Kira shook her head. "Donald Davenport? That grandpa? Isn't he dead too?"

"I know he's not."

"Even if he were somehow alive, he's dead to me," Kira growled, slamming the sphere back onto the nightstand. "He abandoned his family. Who does that?"

"In all the time he's been gone," her dad said, hurt and anxiety creeping into his already weary tone, "I've held onto the belief that he had his reasons. I knew him. He wouldn't leave us without a good reason."

Kira wanted to argue with her dad, but she felt it wouldn't be best considering his current condition. If he wanted to believe those delusions in his final moments, she would let him.

"I want you to find him."

"What?" Kira yelped, surprising even herself. Even so, she kept going. "I don't want to meet him even if he's still alive."

"Trust me, you'd love him. Maybe even more than he loves himself."

"No, I'm very sure I wouldn't."

"Kira." Her dad's eyes bore into her with such sorrow that she looked away. "Consider it my dying wish. Find your Grandpa Donald, and give him the sphere. He can open it and show you why I always keep it locked. I'm trusting you with this. Please. My only daughter . . . my baby girl . . . find Grandpa . . . tell him I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? He's the one who left you behind!"

"I'm not going to believe that."

"Dad, even if I wanted to find him, how would I get out of here? You know I could never leave. And how would I even go about finding him? He could be anywhere in the world!"

"You're a resourceful girl. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Dad, you can't really be asking me to do this. You can't seriously be asking me to track down a man I absolutely loathe."

Her father smiled faintly. "And yet, that's exactly what I'm asking you to do."

"Why?"

"Because he needs to know that I still love him. He needs to know that he's still wanted in this world. I can't even imagine what he's been through. He needs to know that he still has a son who cares for him. And you need to learn that he's not as bad as you think he is. You need to learn that he's human and he's not perfect—no matter how much he tries to deny it—but he's still a wonderful man. You remind me so much of him. You both need to know that you're loved; you need to learn to love each other."

"That could not happen."

"You're really going to argue with me now?" His chest rose and fell. He blinked and sighed, looking at his daughter with a deep longing

"No," she murmured, picking up the ball again. It fit in the palm of her hand, and she wondered exactly what valuable thing could be inside. "You really want me to do this?"

"With all my heart. Please, Kira. You have to understand how important this is to me."

She looked down into her father's dark eyes. They were filled with such wanting. He would never be able to complete this quest himself; he wanted Kira to do it for him.

"You find your Grandpa Donald," he whispered. "And you tell him . . . you tell him that his son still loves him. You tell him that Leo will always love him."

"Dad." A sob escaped her throat, and in one swift motion Kira put the sphere back on the table and leaned over her father's bed, breathing heavily.

He reached up to stroke her hair. His hand moved down her face and she leaned her cheek into his palm. It was a perfect picture of father-daughter love. Kira just wished that her father was not on his deathbed.

"Kira," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Don't cry for me."

Only now did she realize that tears rolled down her cheeks to create dark spots on her father's already dark skin. She blinked and took a deep breath.

"I'll . . . I'll get to see Ariana again. Your mother and I . . . we will always be watching over you."

"I'm jealous of you, Dad. You'll finally be leaving this prison."

Her dad cracked a smile. "Be brave. I know . . . you can be brave."

"I will. And if it means that much to you . . . I'll find Donald."

"Let me hear you call him Grandpa."

"Fine. I'll . . . I'll find Grandpa." Those words pained Kira, but was she supposed to refuse her moribund father?

"Good. You . . . won't regret it. Kira . . . Kira, I love you."

His wrist went slack and fell away from her face. Kira grabbed it, and the dark skin of his hand melded with the lighter brown of hers. She gripped it like her life depended on it.

"Dad . . . Dad!"

Leo Dooley's eyes closed and his head fell back on the pillow. Kira stood there with her mouth open in shock. She dropped his wrist and screamed, "Someone, someone help my dad!"

The machines began to buzz horrifically as the doctor and nurse rushed back in the room, along with more guards. In the chaos, Kira grabbed the sphere and slipped it under her shirt. She watched helplessly as the people surrounded her father's bedside. Some were cruel enough to whisper the truth out loud to each other. Kira's face was blank; she couldn't—nor did she want to—register what exactly happened.

A hand on her neck guided her out the door without her consent. With bleary eyes she looked up to see the guard who had brought her in once again leading her down the hall. She didn't struggle for once.

They came to a door and the guard shoved her inside. The room was no bigger than a closet, and dread filled Kira instantly.

"Solitary confinement? You're putting me in solitary confinement right after my father died? What kind of monster are you?"

The guard didn't answer; he only slammed the door shut in her face. Kira began to pound on the metal, screaming for help—all the while knowing that no help would come. Finally she collapsed onto the ground. She felt the most utter grief, but some reason she was unable to cry. She sat there with her back against the wall, unable to do anything.

Solitary confinement lasted a week unless the guards said otherwise. Why was she even in here? What had she done wrong? Showing emotion because your father died is wrong? Kira's blood boiled at the thought.

After several minutes, Kira reached under her shirt and pulled out the sphere. She studied it closely and was half tempted to open it right then and there to see what was inside. She was stopped only by the thought that it wasn't what her father had wanted. He wanted her to find Donald Davenport and have him open it. The treasure was for him.

"Dad," Kira whispered, "I've hated my grandfather all my life, and I've never even known him. I was hoping I never would. But if this is what you want, I'll do it for you. One way or another, I'll find my . . . Grandpa Donald and give this to him." Then in a voice even quieter—perhaps she was worried the spirt of her father was eavesdropping—she said, "Dang it, Dad, there'd better be something pretty fantastic inside."

So, how was it? I bet you have plenty of questions. If you do, good. In fact, how about you ask them. Go ahead. Leave as many questions as you can think of in a review. Just any questions you have about the story, the setting, and the characters. I won't answer them directly, but it would be nice to know what you guys are curious about. Chances are they'll be answered as the story goes on. (Mostly in the next two chapters, hopefully.)

And hey, if you guys have time, check out my first drabble, "Thirsty," that I posted yesterday. It's based off a true story. XD And thanks to everyone who already reviewed!

I love hearing what you think, so don't forget to review! Give me your questions, your musings, your deepest, darkest fears . . . wait . . . well, I mean, I guess that's okay, but you should probably just ask stuff about the story. (I'm not a therapist. XD) Ask questions, suggest theories, tell me what you think is going on. I love to hear it! And to everyone who's too shy to review, thanks for reading! I hope you all liked it, and I'll see you later for Chapter 2: Family Ties. (That title might change.) Oh, and don't forget to give your mom a big hug tomorrow! :D Bye!