A/N 1: As in the previous chapters – ideas for fic and character development, questions, plotbunnies, suggestions, flames, character pictures, corrections, additions, comments, and everything in between can be mailed to hack_heaven@usa.net

A/N 2: This interlude takes place right after Diana and Suzuka leave the room.

Italics indicates thoughts/telepathy

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Eight Interlude: Return to Innocence

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The door closed, and the sound of Diana and Suzuka's footsteps faded away as the two girls walked down the hallway. West moved slightly, restlessly, torn out of his sleep as the door was closed. He blinked, took a moment to remember where he was, and for a long, blissful second, everything was perfect. Prue was down the hallway somewhere, already awake, he was sure of that - she was a morning person, and loved the mornings as much as he himself hated them, and-

-And reality intruded on his happy fantasy, twisting his thoughts, bringing back memories of pain and blood and death, a dark alley downtown, and-

No...

West curled up under the covers, strangling a sob, and felt his eyes burn once again with heavy tears. Next to him Deirdre moved, forced back to the harsh reality by his sudden movements, and West felt her curl up next to him, instinctively searching for someone - anyone - to make the pain go away and make her feel safe again.

For a moment, they just lay there in silence, unconsciously drawing support from each other, from the peace that so often accompanied the presence of a friend. West closed his eyes, resting for a moment between sleep and consciousness, listening to the sound of their heartbeats, then-

"Make me forget?"

The words were hardly more than a whisper and West opened his eyes and found Deirdre watching him intently. Wide eyes; very young, very innocent...and all too weary for someone who was barely a child.

West closed his eyes briefly, then looked at her.

"Don't ask me to do that," he replied softy, pleadingly. Did the girl even have any idea of what she was asking him to do? To deliberately erase her memories, to take away the past day of her life, to...to make her forget?

He suppressed a shiver at the thought. Forcing a friend to forget? No...he'd already caused enough damage with his powers - first his parents, then the people he met on the road...he couldn't do this.

"Don't ask that of me," West repeated, almost inaudibly, and Deirdre looked at him with desperation in her eyes.

"West, please," she pleaded, tears starting to gather in the corners of her eyes. "I know it won't bring Prue back, but at least I won't have to remember what happened. Every time I close my eyes, I see Nike draw her knife, and Prue backing away from her, and Jhonen stopping me before I could help, and..."

Deirdre's self-control finally broke down, and the tears started anew. She curled up in West's arms, crying against his T-shirt, and West could feel the tears wet the fabric.

"Don't-don't make me remember," Deirdre pleaded between sobs. "Please don't make me remember..."

West hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, then put his arms around the girl and held her while she cried. He could feel his own tears run down his cheek, down to the pillow, but didn't move to dry them away.

Prue was gone. Prue was gone, and he'd left her behind in that cold, dark alley, alone and helpless, and...he'd left her. What did his tears matter compared to that? They didn't. Nothing did.

Prue had been his friend. She'd trusted him even though she knew what could happen if he lost control of his powers. He'd told her more than once to leave him before anything happened to her, but she'd just laughed and told him to calm down. And for a few, short moments he'd actually believed that everything would be okay, that he wouldn't lose Prue like his cursed powers had forced away so many other people he cared about.

She'd trusted him...she'd trusted him, and he'd betrayed her.

Traitor, his conscience mocked.

No...

Some friend you turned out to be, the voice continued, but West just held Deirdre tighter, both comforted and frightened by her presence. Deirdre trusted him, too - trusted him to take care of her, to make it all go away. She trusted him enough to ask him to make her forget; trusted that he had enough control to stop before he accidentally took too many of her memories.

Make me forget, she'd asked, never realizing that it was the one thing West feared the most

Being cursed with the power to erase memories had given West a unique perspective of things. During his first, lonely year on the road, when he didn't trust himself enough be make friends, he'd spend a lot of long, cold nights thinking. About his life, his past, his future, and most importantly his powers.

Like everybody else, he had some childhood memories he would have preferred to forget - his long-time crush who'd turned him down because he wasn't part of the in-crowd, for one - but after he found himself with the power to actually erase memories for other people, his view of things had changed drastically.

Memories made people who they were. Memories were their past, and the foundation to their future. Memories were the reason behind every reaction, every odd, little quirk, every aspect of their personalities.

And as West had realized - if you started to erase certain memories, things would go wrong. Maybe not with one memory, or two, or ten, but eventually the foundation to their future would be so weakened by holes, that it - that *they* - would break down.

He'd seen it happen.

It had been a girl he'd met on the streets, not much older than West himself, but she had been on her own for far longer than he had. She had called herself a Seer, said that she could see the truth.

Maybe she could - she'd known about his mutation the moment she saw him.

She'd asked - no, begged - him to make the memories go away, to make her forget about the pain and blood and violence, about the drugs and customers on the streets, about the things her power made her see.

And West, in his infinite stupidity, had agreed. A few memories at first, then more as she came back to him. Like a drug, she'd become addicted to his power, addicted to the feeling of making all the bad things go away. West had been unable to say no to her - he knew what it felt like to hurt, and he'd only wanted to help her, even though he knew that it was probably a bad idea. And finally, when her memory was all but gone, ridden with holes, and she could barely remember who she was...

...She'd gone insane.

Make me forget.

And now Deirdre lay curled up in his arms, crying, begging him to make it all go away, trusting him to help her...

...And as a friend, the only help he could give her was to refuse her plea.

Heartless. Uncaring. Bastard, his conscience spat out, emphasizing every biting word.

No...I'm just trying to help her, West objected weakly. I'm not...

Traitor.

West forced himself to ignore the harsh words and focus on the girl in his arms instead.

"Deirdre...I wish I could help you, I really do," he whispered. "But taking away the memories will only make it worse. I know it hurts, I know you just want it to go away, but...I can't help you. Please understand," he added, almost pleading. "I don't want to hurt you..."

Deirdre sniffed and dried her eyes, but didn't pull away from West.

"I know," she replied with a small sigh. "I just...I just wanted it to go away, you know? Make it stop..."

West just nodded and held her, trying to calm down the girl. And for a moment he felt better - if nothing else, he could be there for Deirdre and help her that way. Focusing on someone else made the pain a little easier to bear, made him able to push away the feeling of loss if only for a brief moment.

Deirdre's breathing slowly evened out as she fell asleep again, escaping into the safety of her dreams where they were still in New York, still safe in their apartment above the martial arts school, never knowing the pain of losing a dear friend...

West watched the sleeping girl for a moment, envying her the peaceful expression on her face, then closed his eyes, alone with his grief once more.

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