A/N: Hi, everyone. :) We're back for the third and final book of the Changes trilogy! Hope I didn't make you wait too long. I just want to say how much I appreciate you guys sticking with me through this, it means the world. I hope you enjoy this first chapter. x

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own Austin & Ally, nor am I associated with Austin & Ally.


I stare at the small pile of papers in front of me. They've been in the bottom of my desk drawer, away from any other eyes but my own. Some of them are wrinkled, from where they've been shoved in my pants pocket, or wallet, or any number of places. Some of them are as good as new, pulled straight from the pile of paper in the printer in my dorm. Nonetheless, it's a pile of papers that I value. The page on the top is labeled, written in the neatest handwriting I could muster.

The List of Things I've Learned About Ally Dawson

I once joked with Ally about writing a list of things I had come to know about her, the day I took her out for lunch after she had caught Cassidy and I almost doing to deed the night before. I don't think she ever thought I'd actually do it, though, so I never acted like I was serious. The truth is, I was only going to write down the two things I had mentioned to her that day, but as time went on, and I got to know her more and more, the list grew, and now here it is before me. I'm afraid to open it now, but I'm desperate. I need to remember what she was like before she lost her memory. I have to.

It's been about a week since she woke up in the hospital. Like the coward I am, I haven't gone back. It's not much different, Trish tells me... She doesn't know anyone, not even her own father.

With a shaky hand I finally manage to reveal the first page on the list.

She asks too many questions. It's kinda cute.

Just as expected, I feel a pang in my chest, and I'm unable to go on. I close the drawer with a slam and grip my hair in my hands, once again unable to believe the life that I'm living. I pace the room back and fourth for a few minutes, occasionally kicking the side of my bed in frustration. I eventually calm myself down and open the drawer once more, contemplating whether I should read on, but I know I'm just not ready yet. I shake my head slowly and close it, allowing a tear to fall on the first page before it's shut all the way.

I flop back on my bed, spread eagle. I'm still pissed at the fact that everything was okay for once, and then everything had to just get ruined all over again. Ally's been through a lot to make me fall in love with her, and now her efforts are meaningless, because here I finally am and she's the one left behind this time. It sucks.

I hear a very light knock on the door, and I sigh as I approach it. "Who is it?" I call out, something that I've learned to do from now on.

"Dez." My best friend answers from the other side. He's been visiting me at least once a day while I've kept myself locked in this room. He's offered to move back in with me so many times, but I know he's happier where he is now, and I don't want to take that from him even if it means that I'm beyond lonely most of the time.

I unlock the door to reveal Dez, a coffee from Starbucks in his hand. He hands it to my tentatively, and I take it, murmuring a quick thank you before letting him come inside and locking the door behind him.

"How you doing, buddy?" He asks, patting me on the back as if I were a child.

I shrug. "Fine." He knows I'm lying, it's obvious by the dark circles under my eyes and the slouch in my shoulders. I've gotten maybe five hours of sleep in the past week, and it's starting to get to me. Every time I close my eyes, though, I see Ally get shot all over again, and I just can't bring myself to deal with it. "How's she doing?"

He frowns. "Maybe you should come by the hospital and find out for yourself. Everyone wonders where you've gone to."

I sigh, setting my coffee down on my nightstand. We've had this conversation at least three times before. "I can't do it, Dez. I'm just not ready yet."

"She gets released from the hospital tomorrow," he tells me, "she's going to be living at her house, her dad pulled her out of college temporarily." He scrapes his shoe against the floor. "And I think I should probably tell you something else, too..."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Spit it out, Dez."

"Elliot's been at the hospital," he sighs, "trying to get her to remember him."

"What!" I shouted, tossing my hands up in the air. Dez takes a step back from me. "He can't do that! He's not her boyfriend anymore! He'll try to feed her all these bullshit lies-"

"Austin," Dez interrupts me, rubbing his temples, "calm down. I don't think it's necessary, but I've been keeping an eye on him for you. All he does is talk about when they were kids and stuff, he never mentions when they were dating."

"What does she say?" I ask curiously.

He shrugs. "Doesn't remember."

I'm not surprised. She doesn't remember anything. She doesn't remember the time she babysat me at a party when I was drunk, or the time we slept on the roof together, or the time I came to New York for her, or when I met her dad, or anything. It's all gone.

I feel myself starting to tear up again and Dez sighs, pushing me to sit on my bed. He sits beside me on the mattress and pats my back while I sob into my hands. This happens a lot lately, I just get really emotional and Dez just tries his best to comfort my until I get all cried out. And then he tells me to take a nap, tells me he'll come by and see me tomorrow, and then he leaves. I won't ever be able to nap, though. I'll just drink the stupid Starbucks and stare at the wall until my eyes hurt. And then I'll do the same thing all over again tomorrow. It was a never ending process, it seemed. I hoped I could get over it soon so that I could fulfill my promise to myself, about making Ally remember me.

I finally stopped crying, and Dez stood up. "Alright, buddy, I better go now. Take a nap, okay?" He heads towards the door, but looks back at me with his hand on the knob. "I'm bringing Ally with me tomorrow, so just be prepared." He leaves without giving me time to respond to him, and I groan, falling back on the bed.

Whether I was ready or not, it was time to stand up and do what I needed to do. It wasn't going to be easy, but there had to be a way.


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