Chapter 2

It was like a nightmare, but a terrifyingly familiar one. Flashes of thoughts and images flooded his brain, and he realized, with a sickening jolt to his stomach, that they were forgotten memories, resurfacing. How many horrible things had he done? He didn't want to remember....

Screaming. He could hear it distantly, then closer. And closer. As he slowly regained consciousness, he realized it was his own voice.

He woke, shivering, in a cold sweat, sprawled on an unfamiliar, yet familiar floor. His damp clothes clung to him, and his breath came in ragged gasps. His stomach turned and he vomited.

"Oh dear. What a mess," came a voice, low and mocking.

He knew that voice. He remembered. The handshake that sold his soul; how it burned and froze at the same time. He didn't want to look up. But he had to.

"God, please let this be a nightmare," he thought a desperate prayer, but when he looked up, he knew. This was real—he was in Hell.

"Welcome back, Chad, it's been a long time, hasn't it, my child?"

Chad thought frantically. What could he do to escape him? Could he run? Hide? Close his eyes and wish him away?

The dark voice entered his mind, and he shuddered in as much revulsion as fear. "I know what you're thinking, child, and no, it's not that easy."

He could still escape. He may never be able to rid himself of the terrible memories he had reclaimed, but things were different now. Father had no power over him. Chad picked himself up gingerly, but then stood with confidence.

"I think you'll do exactly what I tell you to," Father sneered, answering Chad's thoughts.

"I'm not yours to control," Chad retorted, wishing his voice were steadier, and headed for the door.

"Perhaps," Father replied slowly. "But then I'd need someone else to do my bidding..."

What was he getting at?

"Someone who may not want to remember her past sins either...someone like Cree."

Chad froze at the mention of her name. How did Father know her? Suddenly a shadow of memory returned—of an armor-clad agent. Her armor folded back to reveal her face....

Chad spun around. "You stay away from her!" he shouted.

"I don't think you're in any position to threaten me," Father answered with warped satisfaction. "I can easily bring her here as I brought you. Do you think she'll want to remember her actions when she was my apprentice? She would have killed her own sister at my command."

"I don't believe you."

"Perhaps you'd like to find out? It can be arranged."

He was lying, he had to be. But Chad didn't want her to go through this pain, not if he could prevent it. Entering into a deal with someone as Evil as Father was stupid, but....

"What do you want from me?" he finally resigned.

---

Cree hung up her phone. She had gotten his voicemail again, and she refused to leave more than one message. She paced the floor of her room. Could something have happened to him? Was he okay?

Maybe she was over-thinking this. He probably got held up after one of his hundreds of club meetings. And he probably forgot to turn on his cell phone, as always. That must be it. She tried to convince herself, but wasn't succeeding.

Chad had never stood her up before, no matter how busy he was. He was nothing if not conscientious, his parents had taught him that. Sure, he was late sometimes, but he would usually call her if he were going to be more than half an hour late. But now it had been hours. It was beyond late.

So then, what happened? Could he have gotten into some trouble?

...or was he avoiding her? But why?

Cree had worn a path into her rug by now. She stopped and looked around. Scattered throughout her room were the snuffed candles from the night before. She stared at them, biting down hard on her lower lip. She gathered them hastily and dumped them roughly in the trash. Then she threw herself on her bed, pulling her knees to her chest. She didn't want to think anymore.

---

Father had not told Chad what he wanted from him, only laughed in his low, bone-chilling manner and said he would tell him when the time came. Somehow it was worse, not knowing.

It was already dark out. An entire day had been spent, lost in the nightmarish confusion of his own returning memories. They were still jumbled, confused, incomplete. But he knew they were real. He had done all those terrible things, he had tried to kill everyone. For completely selfish reasons. Hurt pride? Wounded feelings? Pathetic excuses...he sickened himself. What a worthless human being....

Chad remembered this feeling. He had used to feel this way all the time. Perhaps this was what drove him to the brink of insanity, to a place where murdering all his friends seemed like a reasonable plan. He wished it to go away. He wanted to be comforted. He needed...Cree. He found himself heading for her house. She would heal him, she would put her arms around him, and in her warm embrace he would forget the pain and all his past sins. He would be happy again. But....

Did he deserve happiness?

---

"Hi Chad. So...where have you been?" Cree's voice on his voicemail had that distinctively strained tone of one trying to sound relaxed. "I didn't see you at school today. I waited for you after school.... Well, I hope you're okay. Give me a call when you get this. See ya."

Chad sat miserably in his room, holding his cell phone. He should call her. But what would he say? She would ask him questions he had no idea how to answer.

---

Chad sat lifelessly in the school cafeteria before classes, as was his habit. But this time he wasn't looking over his homework assignments or planning his afternoon after school. He hadn't slept, he hadn't eaten. He didn't know what to do; he felt paralyzed. Every now and again a memory would surface, and he would wince as if hit by a physical blow. He had hacked into the KND code module and changed his age so that he could remain an operative. Then he had upped the ages of others who found out his secret, to get their memories erased. Was this who he was? A self-serving and conniving traitor?

"'Sup, dog?" Kenny greeted as he sat down next to him.

"Woof," Chad replied without thinking, as he had done hundreds, if not thousands of times before. He paused, looking up at Kenny. Now he remembered how they knew each other.

"Thirty C," he said in a revelatory manner.

"Huh?"

"Thirty C," Chad repeated, "does that mean anything to you?"

"As in thirty Celsius? That's like eighty degrees Fahrenheit or something."

"Actually, it's 86 degrees, but that's not what I mean. Thirty C—does it mean anything else to you?"

Kenny shook his head.

"...the way 274 means something to me," he persisted, pulling up his sleeve, exposing his tattoo.

"Dude! When did you get a tattoo?"

"That's not th—"

"What happened to it?" Kenny asked, noticing the scars disfiguring it.

"I...tried to scratch it off...." He had spent the last year wondering about that tattoo. He hadn't even remembered getting it up until now. He lined his fingernails up with the scars. They matched perfectly.

"Ouch. Why?"

Chad continued to stare at his marked arm. The events of his thirteenth birthday when he was almost decommissioned slowly returned to him. He had been in so much pain...he was so angry; filled with hatred and hopelessness. It had been inevitable--joining Father, seeking revenge. But he managed to escape it—no, he had worked through those terrible feelings, and he learned how empty his thirst for revenge had been. He found what was really important. He would never have been able to without her. Cree.... What had he been doing? Why was he avoiding her?

"Because I'm an idiot," he said aloud.

"Um, okay," shrugged Kenny.

"I need to find Cree."

"Don't you have class? I was gonna show up and freak out the teachers."

"I'm ditching."

"Shit, has hell frozen over? Where are all the flying pigs?" Kenny looked around as Chad left the room.

---

Finding Cree was actually an easy task as he had memorized her schedule and knew exactly which classroom she would be in. He stood outside the door of the class, peering through the small window in the door. If he focused his thoughts on her, she'd look up at him....

It happened faster than he'd thought. Almost immediately she glanced up in his direction and they made eye contact. They stared at one another for a moment, and then she excused herself from the room and stood, heading towards him. He stepped out of the way as she approached and the door opened it. As she walked through the door frame he reached out and pulled her aside gently, then into his arms and held her close.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She clung to him, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I should be really mad at you."

"I know." A feeling of love, relief, and gladness washed over him. Neither of them spoke for several seconds, each wishing for this perfect moment to last forever. This brief instant where no explanations were necessary, and all that mattered was that they were together and in each other's arms.

But perfect moments never do last long....

"What happened? Why have you been avoiding me?" she asked.

Chad's embrace loosened and she pulled away from him, looking at him questioningly.

"I...was being stupid. I'm sorry, there's really no excuse."

She watched him intently, trying to understand.

"I felt..." Chad suddenly had difficulty meeting her eyes. "I hated myself."

Cree shook her head slowly, confused.

"I remember now—the things I forgot? I remember them, and...I've done such horrible things."

"You're not making any sense."

"I know I'm not, but I don't know how else to...." He took both her hands in his. He studied them, her smooth skin, the tapering fingers, delaying the moment when he would have to speak.

"Cree," he said softly, still focusing on her hands. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Chad," she began, the note of worry still in her voice. She started to pull her hands away. "This isn't—"

But Chad held fast. "I'm not trying to change the subject." He looked up, into her eyes. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that. You do, don't you?"

Her eyes were sad. It hurt him to see her like that. But she nodded, wordlessly, and tried to smile.

He wanted to kiss her then, but he knew it wasn't the time. He took a deep breath, there was nothing else to do but start talking—

A horrible darkness fell, obscuring his vision and turning his blood to ice. He suddenly felt as though Cree were very far away, even as he held her hands. He could barely see her anxious face, mouthing unheard words of concern. Instead, it was his words that he could hear, with unmistakable clarity.

"What do you hope to accomplish by confessing to her? Did you plan to beg for her forgiveness? Do you think that will do anything other than make her hate you?" Father's words echoed in Chad's mind.

Chad shut his eyes tight and tried to force Father from his brain. "Get...out...of my head."

"By your command, Chad," Father jeered, "just tell your girlfriend that I'd like a word with her, would you?"

Chad knew he had lost the battle. "Just tell me what you want."

"Much better. Isn't it easier when we just do things my way?" Father's voice was full of twisted mirth.

Chad waited, accepting Father's taunts.

"I only have one small request to ask of you. You should be grateful, really, that I'm asking for so little in return. After all, I gave you five years' worth of memories."

Chad wished Father would just say what he wanted—

"Kill Nigel Uno."

Murder.... Chad's lungs shut down. He couldn't breathe.

"I think someone as talented as you can handle that small task."

Then the darkness lifted, as suddenly as it had fallen. Where was he?

In the hallway. With Cree. He was still grasping her hands, clinging to them as if his life depended on it. He was freezing, covered in a clammy sweat.

"Chad—talk to me, what's wrong?" implored Cree, her voice edged with panic.

He gulped for air; he could barely see. "I'm sorry, I have to go," he choked out before releasing her hands and tearing down the hall. He made it to the bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet.

---

Cree stood stunned in the hallway. What the hell was that? She slumped against the wall and hid her face in her hands. What was wrong with him? It was as if he had become an entirely different person; she didn't know him at all. He told her he loved her, then ran off without an explanation...why? Why...?

She uncovered her face and stood upright. Why was she here raking her brain and feeling sorry for herself when she could be asking Chad these questions? She hastened down the hall in the direction Chad had bolted moments ago.

---

Chad knelt on the floor of the bathroom, head resting against the cold porcelain. His mind was swimming.

Kill Nigel Uno. It was a terrible request. But it wasn't even the duty put upon him that made him sick—any task given from Father was certain to be evil—it was his reaction to it that horrified him. When he heard "Kill" his first thought wasn't "No," or even "Why?"

It was "How."

At that thought his stomach lurched again, and he held his head over the rim in anticipation, but his stomach was long empty. Instead, something bitter rose in his throat, which he spat out before laying his forehead against the toilet again. He felt dizzy.

He knew Nigel, he was Cree's sister's friend. He was...Numbuh One. He hadn't only been Abigail's friend, he had been his own as well. And his enemy. Chad had hated him so much after his failed attempt at destroying the Moonbase. Back then he certainly would have jumped at the chance to kill—

"Hey Bro," Kenny suddenly interrupted his thoughts. He stood and observed Chad for a moment. "You do not look good."

Chad barely had the energy to lift his head to look at him.

"Eurgh, and neither does that," Kenny grimaced as he reached over Chad to flush the toilet. "Was it the fish or the lasagna?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Cree's been barging into all the little boy's rooms, looking for you. We met up in the principal's office," he chuckled. "It's not like I'm a student here, so I'm off the hook, but it looks like Cree is facing some pretty serious detention. She asked me to find you. Though she didn't say what she wanted me to do once I did.... I don't know about you, but I'm thinking Gatorade."

"Just leave me alone, would you?"

Kenny shrugged. "Whatever." He headed for the exit.

"Wait," Chad breathed with difficulty. "Tell Cree...tell her I'm sorry."

Kenny looked down at Chad, frowning slightly. He paused for a moment, as if considering. Finally he said, "Why don't you tell her yourself? I'll get her," before strolling out.

Chad sat there on the grimy floor of the bathroom, feeling completely contemptible. He buried his face in his hands and tried to decide what to do. He should talk to Cree. But he felt...ashamed. And afraid. What if she...? He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to face her. Not yet.

He stood slowly, painfully, and dragged himself to the door. He pulled at the door handle. The door opened an inch or so, then stuck. Strange. Chad yanked at the handle, but it didn't budge. He peered out the crack—a mop had been jammed in the handle on the other side, barring him in.

"Kenny..." Chad muttered.

Kenny returned soon afterwards with Cree in tow. He pulled out the mop that was blocking Chad's exit, but left the "Out of Order" sign, which he had posted earlier, on the door.

"Just wanted to make sure he didn't bolt," Kenny explained.

"Thanks," was all Cree could think of to reply.

They entered, only to find an empty bathroom.

Kenny walked over to the open window and stared down from the second floor. "Now that's pretty hard core."

---

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author's note: yeah, kind of an abrupt end to the chapter. i'll try to do better next time.

and Kenny is bad at movie quotes, as, i admit, i am, but his "fish or lasagne" misquote was on purpose. i just wanted to say that, so i wouldn't be attacked by angry "Airplane!" aficionados.