Wowza. It's been over a year since I updated, huh? Well, I'm back to working on this, and I'm hopefully in a better place than a year ago so I can get this story rolling! Woohoo!

This is going to be a bit of a short chapter, but I hope what it lacks in length it makes up for in quality! These beans need a break after all the building up from the previous chapters.

Take Two

He froze up, and Atta feared the worst. She didn't dare say his name, lest it send him back into his nightmare. Was even this truth too much for him? She cursed herself for not having pushed harder, and she prepared to have to go in and fix the mess again.

But instead of seizing, he moved his quivering hands up to his face.

She reached as well and her gloves soaked quickly. She gasped. "Oh no… Does it hurt? I'm sorry, F—"

"N-no," he choked. "I'm… fine." But he was clearly struggling in spite of his claims.

"You're shaking."

"I just"—he made a sound that was like a mix between a laugh and a sob—"need a moment. It doesn't hurt, I promise."

Atta wasn't sure she believed him, but she did calm down. Still, it hurt to hear him like this, so she held him tightly. Even then, she felt him slowly coming apart. "You're sure you're okay?"

"My whole world just—hic—got flipped on its head," he said.

And Atta couldn't help but feel relieved, then guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Because she kept the truth from him; because she was the reason he suffered; because everything ended up being for nothing. Yet all she could manage was: "I'm so sorry."

He locked eyes with her. "Why?" he asked again.

With that one word, she could hear everything he wanted to say, but couldn't. She'd all but confessed that she lied to him. She'd meant to protect him at the time, but what could she call everything afterwards? Even when she tried to part ways, she came back to him. That wasn't protection, not when she'd taken every excuse that came and ran with them.

Seeing the hurt on his face forced her to accept the truth. "I'm so selfish," she confessed. "I thought…" The fear in her screamed at her to stop, to make something up, but the guilt made her press on and her tears flowed anew. "I was so scared that if you knew the truth… that you would hate me."

"Hate you?!" he repeated, shocked. "Why would I hate you?"

"How can you ask that?! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess!" she cried. "You'd still have your memories, your old life! Not…" She gestured to his heart. "…this!" She waited for him to see it, too. She was ready for him to push her away and declare that he never wanted to see her again.

She felt him start to get up and she let her arms fall so she wouldn't hold him back from leaving. But he pulled her up with him and kept his hands on her shoulders. His gaze softened. "I could never hate you."

"But I just told you—"

"I've been selfish, too," he interrupted. "I knew the risks; I knew how you felt about them. Heck, you tried to end things. None of that stopped me from wanting to be with you."

Atta wanted to say something to that, but she couldn't. As much as she wanted to deny it, he did have his part in it, too.

"So, no, I can't hate you."

She wanted to believe him. She knew him, after all. He could take a lot, was forgiving to a fault. He would sooner give up on himself than give up on anyone else. That part hadn't changed.

But her traitorous mind grasped the last thing she had to refute him.

"You forgot me."

The stricken, shattered look in his eyes filled her with guilt and satisfaction, guilt for hurting him and satisfaction for helping him finally understand.

But it didn't last.

"Princess," he began. Carefully, gently, not at all what she deserved. "Do you know why I'm called 'Flik?'"

Atta shook her head. If he'd told her before, she couldn't remember.

"It was all that was left of my memories when they found me," he continued. "Sounds a lot like… Sounds a lot like my real name, doesn't it?"

She nodded.

"It must have meant a lot to me. Knowing what I do now, knowing that you gave it to me…"

She had an idea of where he was going, yet she listened.

"I don't know why I—why Felix chose to forget, but I think… I like to think he loved you."

How would he know? But Atta couldn't argue. How would she know?

"Always had."

How could she doubt him?

"And I always will."

Flik—Felix?—held Princess Atta close as she broke down. He could feel the years in her wails, all the guilt that she must have held onto because she had no one to forgive her. Who could understand what she was going through? He cried himself, knowing he still couldn't give her what she wanted, what she needed. As much as he would like to speak for Felix, he didn't have the memories to do so. But he was still the product of his past self and Princess Atta's mistakes, so he could at least grant her this.

He held her long after her wails and sobs became whimpers and sniffs. They stayed connected this way, as if trying to get back the lost years, communicating in grip what they did not have the strength for in words. The way she clung to him told him how much she missed him. He hoped the way he cradled her made it clear how much he loved her unconditionally. If she needed five years before she saw herself well enough to go, he would have given her more.

"I know we have to go home eventually, but," she murmured as if she heard his thoughts, "I don't want to get up."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Were we ever like this before?"

Princess Atta shook her head. "We never even told each other how we felt," she said. "Even if we had, we were separated by my bedroom door. I think the most we could have done was hold hands." One of her hands clasped his as if to demonstrate. "I'm happy I could do this with you now."

"Me, too." He focused on memorizing this moment.

Then she sighed, running her thumb over his hand. "What do we do now? I came to warn you, now what?"

"What exactly did Hopper threaten to do?"

"He said something about bringing you to me, promised to keep you a secret."

Felix—Flik?—quirked an eyebrow. "I don't suppose I'll have a say in that."

Princess Atta bristled. "This is serious!"

"I'm just surprised. Why would he do that?"

Briefly giving him the annoyed eye, she continued: "I'm sure it's a trap, but he's always kept his promises… I don't understand what he could possibly gain from this."

"I guess, in the meantime, we just need to lay low. There go my games of tag with the guys." He chuckled before he realized the rather sobering thought. "How will I explain this to my troupe? They'll never let me out of their sight again. And Dot… does she know?"

"We're the only ones who know the full story," the Princess answered. "Letting your troupe know is risky. As for Dot"—she looked away—"she figured out who you were, but not your condition. I don't know how to tell her. It would break her heart."

"I could be the one to tell Dot, at least about my memory," Flik—his real name was overwhelming—offered. "She deserves to know."

Princess Atta sighed, and nodded slowly. "…okay."

"As for my troupe, maybe I won't need to tell them? I don't know. I'll have to figure something out." What a mess. "It would be much harder for us to meet if they knew about us, even though you're trying to help me." Absently, he brushed his fingers over his heart.

"I wonder if we'll even need to meet for much longer, after tonight," said the Princess. Her hands began to glow again. "I'll have to take a look. May I?"

He pushed her hand away. "You can't." In the glow, he saw her concerned face. "I don't want to hurt you." For once, seeing understanding dawn on her bothered him. He remembered then why she would understand. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"You didn't mean to. It's a defense souls have when they're hurt."

"It'll happen again, it always does. You don't need to do this."

"But it's the only way to check," she said, neither pushing nor dimming her light.

Flik considered this. "Only checking?" he asked. He hesitated because of the pain she would feel; but if seeing for herself would help, and all she would do is look, then he might let her in.

"That's all I'll do. I'll be careful, I promise."

"It's not me I'm worried about." He laid back down and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to relax himself. "Ready when you are."

"Okay."

He braced himself for the familiar sting, shock, anything. He waited for Princess Atta to gasp and recoil. She would decide that it wasn't worth it to go through the pain again and stop, and he wouldn't blame her one bit. Instead of all that, however, there was only warmth like gentle waves running over him. Warily, he let himself unwind.

"It doesn't hurt," he breathed. "Is this normal?"

"It's how you're supposed to feel," he heard her explain, seeming just as awed.

"How does it look?"

"So much better. I can barely recognize it." The waves ebbed, and when Flik opened his eyes, he saw her relieved smile. "I think you're going to be all right."

"That's great," he said. He didn't have it in him to hide his sadness.

"We should probably meet one more time, just to make sure nothing happens when I'm not around."

"In three days, then. That should be enough time."

"Yes. If everything goes smoothly, that'll be it."

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise that, ultimately, nothing would change, but Flik didn't feel as bad as he had before. He told her how he felt, so there were no more loose ends, nothing to regret. He got everything he wanted: learning about his past, his real name, her love in return. He could be satisfied now, no longer wondering.

"Can you make her happy?" Dot's request echoed in his mind again.

Did he manage to accomplish that? He wasn't sure. He had three days left to figure it out, to give her something memorable. That is, something from Flik. She already had a memento from Felix.

"We should probably go," said Princess Atta. "I'm sure we're both very busy tomorrow. Are you okay to stand?" She started to pull him up.

Flik marveled over how easy it was to get to his feet. "Yep! Good as new." He grinned towards her—

—and realized just how close they really were.

Having adjusted to the darkness enough, he could very much see her longing gaze. Though he was already up, she hadn't yet let go of his hands. He could hear her slight breath, feel it barely brush his mouth. Was it his imagination that her eyes seemed to be getting closer, even though they were practically on him already?

"Felix," she whispered, causing warmth to blossom in his chest. It caught him so off guard he almost didn't feel her fingers on his cheek. "I…"

He found himself parting his mouth for her.

They hadn't been lovers before, which meant they never really kissed, right? Knowing how they felt for each other now, it seemed only right. Once they parted ways, they would never have the chance again. If nothing else, Princess Atta deserved to be able to do something with the one she loved.

Their lips brushed together, and Flik paused, surprised that they made it this far. Meanwhile, Atta closed the distance fully; she was very soft. It was such a brief thing, over too soon and leaving him forgetting the sensation almost immediately.

But seeing the grateful look on the Princess' face more than made up for it. No, it was more than gratitude.

For the first time, she looked happy.

Being the backup for the circus had its ups and downs. On the one hand, Flik wasn't tied to one act, which ideally should keep the performances fresh and interesting. On the other hand, loath as he was to admit it, there turned out to be roles that he didn't enjoy.

Like being the magician's second assistant.

Forced to remain still while Gypsy applied powder to his face, Flik in turn had to endure Francis' laughing at him from the other side of the backstage. The most he could do was crack an eye open to glare at the clown before Gypsy's brush would force it to close again. "Is the makeup really necessary?"

"You know the role of the assistant is to catch the audience's eye," Gypsy answered matter-of-factly.

"Pretty sure the sequins work well enough."

"Oh, the clothes mean nothing if they don't fit the wearer."

"Yeah! Don'tcha wanna look pretty?" Francis jeered, and Flik had half a mind to toss something at him.

"Don't move, or else I'll have to start all over," warned Gypsy. "I'm almost done, I only need to bring out your eyes… there." Finally, she pulled the brush away, allowing him to regain his sight. The first thing he saw was her satisfied look, which quickly turned perplexed. "One moment." She reached toward his right eye.

"Ow." He recoiled from the scratch on the bottom half of his eye.

"Sorry. There was something in there."

"I'll get it." Flik gingerly covered his eye, careful not to undo Gypsy's hard work, and went to the closest mirror. When the sting faded, he searched for whatever it was that she must have seen. "There it is." He found it under his pupil, on the bottom half of his iris, and he started to pad away at it with his finger. Curious when he saw that it remained, he looked closer to see if it budged at all.

It hadn't. The thing looked to be a part of his iris, though pale and clear enough to stand out. Its shape was also too defined to be something random like collected dust or old tears. It looked like two hands holding something, positioned in such a way that they were cradling his pupil. He could even count each finger if he stared hard enough.

Something was wrong; he couldn't understand. He had seen his right eye countless times, but these hands were never there before.