A/N - Yes, I don't own them.

As of this date - January 28th 2007 - chapter 4 will show a more improved, streamlined, and hopefully better read. I'm only cleaning up the grammatical mistakes or making minor additions to flesh out this story a little more. If this is not your first time through, some of it will be so undiscernable, you probably won't be able to tell. I'm doing this for me. :0) I'm anal like that. LOL

CHAPTER 4 – Memories

I didn't know how long I had slept, but as my mind began to wake up, I could hear voices. They seemed distant to me as if they were in another room. They weren't familiar, but then again, they were.

How...can that be?

I mumbled a few incoherent words, maybe it was regarding who they were or about something from the weird dream that I just had. I didn't know for sure, but one thing was certain. These voices responded to mine and I could hear excitement coming from them, now, as if I had just said something incredibly amazing.

As I became more aware that I was waking up, however, the conversations faded away until I couldn't hear anything at all. With my eyes closed, I thought that I was still in that nether-land of wakefulness that happens between dreaming and consciousness. As I moved around a little, I felt heavy covers on top of me, but then I felt something pinch me in the crook of my right arm and I startled.

My eyes snapped opened in surprise and I sat up. I brought my arm up quickly, expecting something there, but I found nothing, not even a mark.

However, one thing I did see reminded me that I had not been dreaming after all. I was still green, I still had a plastron, and my face still sported a pink mask - that is if the one bandanna tail gracing my right shoulder was proof.

Resigned to the obvious, I relaxed against the mattress again, burrowing under the covers a bit more. I allowed the realization to sink in, that my dream had in fact been real and not imagined.

I was very disappointed.

Sighing deeply, I gulped back the flood of emotions that wanted to overtake me. It must be true, then; I wasn't in California anymore and maybe I never was in the first place. Maybe that was the dream and this was my reality?

But, why could I remember my human life so well, and not the one that I'm now a part of? Why, in just one fleeting moment, have I ended up three thousand miles away from where I once called home?

None of it made sense to me, not at all in fact.

While lying against my pillow, I tried to inspect the room a little better than when Leonardo – Father – first put me here. I saw the posters again and smiled just a little. This Kira liked animals, it seemed. There were pictures of horses, kittens, and puppies, along with a white fur seal pup. Posters like what any teenage girl would tape to her bedroom walls. They seemed a little worn, though, as if retrieved from a dumpster, but they did well in adding color and interest to the otherwise drab, concrete room.

There were also pictures of forests and castles. I could see some handwriting on these posters, too, which piqued my curiosity. Gently shoving the covers off me, I shivered when I felt the chill in the room, but I dismissed it. I wanted to see what this Kira had written.

At first, when I stood up, I felt a little dizzy.

Probably something to do with that tea Father made me drink, I reasoned.

I waited for it to pass and, when it did, I walked slowly over to the first poster.

It showed a beautifully shaded forest, with lots of ferns and large, familiar trees – I think the trees were Redwoods. A pathway led through them, bathed in beams of sunlight filtering down through the massive branches above. The rays illuminated the dirt path and surrounding green foliage with an ethereal golden glow. It was quite beautiful and beckoned the observer to take a walk amongst the stately giants.

However, I stared slack jawed at the writing. I was in shock and not for the life of me could I believe what I was reading. It was my own handwriting! I would recognize it anywhere, just as anyone else would their own personal signature.

"How in ..." I began to say, but stopped from the weight of my stunned response. I just couldn't figure this out. I was mesmerized and completely unprepared for this. It dumbfounded me in more ways than I could fathom, certainly more so than what happened previously when I first arrived in this concrete world.

Curiosity grabbed me, though, and so I read the inscription. It said, "You Are Here", scribbled at an angle along the path in the picture, with a hand-drawn arrow pointing towards the scene's horizon.

Yeah, if only, I thought wryly.

I then looked over at the castle picture and walked up to it. Once again, the same familiar handwriting scrawled along the middle of the poster, this one reading, "One day, my Prince will come".

It was obvious that this Kira longed to be somewhere else but here in this room, in this concrete lair, much the same way I was presently feeling. I shook my head in amazement. Well, it was perfectly obvious that either Kira had my exact same handwriting or - and this was where my mind just couldn't accept - I was indeed Kira.

Yet, how could I imagine an entire life of being a human up to the point of that accident on the freeway? I could distinctly remember every major event in my other existence, as if it had been there just yesterday. For Pete's sake, I remember Christmas holidays with my family! That thought alone played with my emotions big time. My family! What were my real father and my mother going to do, now? I was gone from them, no more a part of their lives and, most certainly, they were no longer a part of mine. My brother and two sisters would also be heartbroken over my absence as well. What about my friends, my college education, my – life as I had known it?

Then again, if Kira is really me, then how could my dream family miss me, or I them?

I returned to my bed and slumped down onto it, confused. I lay back against the mattress and pillow, and brought one arm across my face and began to sob all over again. It felt so real, how much I missed them. How can this have happened? How can I miss something that isn't real? I've had dreams that were so life-like, that it took a while to wake up and let go of the sensation, but they always dissipated, they never hung around for long.

Not this one, though!

Still, given the fact I was clueless to my existence as Kira, what was I going to do, now? How could I reside in this world knowing that I had a life filled with people that I loved in an entirely different existence?

Heck, for that matter, how can I survive in this world when I've forgotten everything about it?

I was in such despair with crying, that it drowned out all other sounds. I didn't notice that someone had opened my bedroom door and had stepped inside my room. The next thing I knew, the 'someone' was sitting on the edge of my bed and had grasped my one hand lying across my stomach. I startled, pulling my arm quickly away from my face to shoot a look at whomever it was who had grabbed me.

It was Leo, the 'Father' in the world that I now seemed to belong.

"Kira, you want to talk about it, sweetheart?" he asked, a look of genuine concern plainly etched upon his face.

I shook my head 'No' and turned on my to face the concrete wall against which the bed lay. I choked back more tears, determined to regain some measure of control, but it was difficult at best.

Every time I thought of this person sitting next to me as Father, I kept seeing my own human father's face; his gentle eyes, his easy smile that creased his mouth so often in my lifetime. I keened inside for his deep and resonating baritone voice, which would often break out in song just because he felt like it! The summer walks along the beach that just the two of us would take whenever I was feeling blue came swiftly to mind. I thought of the beach house he insisted on buying, just so our family could have immediate access to the beach in the first place. My dad was my rock and my moor whenever my life turned upside down.

Right now, I needed him more than ever. Certainly more than this one who sat next to me. This one was determined to overwhelm me with 'responsibilities' I felt I was ill prepared to follow through. At least, as far as I was concerned.

"Kira, you need to talk to me. Keeping this inside of you is not healthy and it's causing nothing but problems for everyone else in the clan. You need to open up and stop running away!" Leo/Father insisted.

"Just go away; leave me alone!" I sobbed uncontrollably. I pulled further away from him, nearly hugging the wall. His hand, however, would not let go of mine! I tried to wrest my hand away, but he held it firm in his.

"No, I'm not going to leave you. I will remain where I am until you decide to talk to me." I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was quite sincere – and determined!

I just shrugged, though, as another sob racked my body. I figured after a while, maybe even a long while, he would tire of the silent treatment and leave.

I figured wrong, however.

I didn't know how long he sat there, but my body told me it was a very long time, maybe an hour, maybe more. I had the need to visit the restroom and my stomach felt empty. I was hungry and the gurgling sounds became more insistent as the minutes ticked by, but I tried my best to ignore them.

However, my other problem – my need for the restroom - was a different matter all together.

"I need to get up." I commented.

"Not until you talk to me." Father insisted.

"I have to go." I demanded, glaring over at him.

"Too bad. Tell me what's going on with you and I'll let you up." He had an ace-in-hand and he knew it.

"Then this bed's going to get mighty wet!" I countered.

"It's your bed, not mine. You're the one who has to sleep in it!" he replied smugly.

Blast him!

I gave him a stony look and pursed my lips defiantly. I tried to retrieve my hand but he held onto it. My arm started to protest its position where it Father had held it in place for so long. "Please, my arm is hurting." I forced out as nicely as I could.

"Not until you talk to me!"

Good golly, was that all he could think about? Fine then. I'll talk to him, but he's going to get the whole ugly story.

"You want me to talk, eh?" I snorted. He nodded and seemed determined to hold fast to his conditions, gripping my hand tighter. "Okay, I'll talk."

So, I sat up and that was when he let go of my hand. I rubbed out the ache in my arm, working my fingers over leathery skin, and scowled over at him.

When my arm began feeling normal again, I growled angrily, "Before I found myself kneeling in front of you in that living room, I was on the 101 freeway in California, driving through pouring rain. I was heading home after having my car in the shop for an oil and lube. In that life I was twenty-two and not fifteen - soon to be sixteen!" I paused to catch my breath, ignoring 'Father's' widening expression, and continued with my story, a sprinkling of sarcasm edging my words, "The next thing I know, traffic in front of me came to a sudden stopped and when I tried to brake, they had given out! I remember the crunch of metal and how it sounded." I shivered slightly, remembering how awful that was to hear, but I continued my account, "I then remember glass breaking and I felt pain, and then – just like that..." I snapped my fingers – and for some reason if felt odd. I looked at my hands and realized that I only had three fingers on each. Because of my momentary distraction, I meekly finished, "...I – was – sitting – before - you." My voice trailed off to a bare whisper.

I looked at my fingers and just stared. Why didn't I notice them before now? Was I that out of it from stress and shock? How could I not be aware of this?

"Kira, what's wrong. You keep looking at your hands." Father asked, somewhat uneasily.

"My – hands. I have only – three fingers on each hand." I commented in awe.

"Yes...and...so do I." He replied, showing me his own fingers and wiggling them. He smiled, albeit it wasn't a broad smile, but one laced with worry. Then, he began to scowl.

I sat up on the bed and looked at Father hard. I studied his puzzled expression and knew that he was getting annoyed again. It seemed my story was not going over well with him.

Then, I wondered about something.

"Who am I?" I asked desperately, my eyes slightly wide in anticipation. Yes, I knew my name was Kira, I knew Leo was supposed to be my father, but where and how did I become?

Stating the obvious, Leo replied cautiously, "You're Kira, my daughter, and you're in your bedroom, in our lair in the sewers under New York City."

"No, that's not what I meant...I mean, how did I become...your daughter?" I asked quietly.

Father became quiet, almost melancholy. He sighed deeply as if he I was forcing him to remember something unpleasant. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and then said as he opened them again to look at me, his expression solemn, "You were born to Mei Pei and me almost sixteen years ago."

"Mei Pei? She – is my mother? Wh – where is she?" I asked.

As soon as I had asked the question, Father looked stricken, as if insulted that I would even venture to ask such a thing. Licking his lips and giving me a look that would be better described as painful, he replied softly.

"She was killed three years ago, Kira, right before your thirteenth birthday. When the Foot ambushed us at our old lair, one of them shot her with a poisoned arrow. Kira, your mother died – while protecting you!"