History's Repeat

Disclaimer: See Chapter one – basically, I don't own anything but the group and the timeline. That's all

A'N: I know I told you three more chapters somewhere in there, but alas, my imagination run out for this story, it seems. It also seems to me that I should be done, especially by the tone of the last chapter. So for now I am done. I'd like to thank those who took their time to read and review this story, in previous chapters as well as in this one. Here is the last chapter of History's Repeat.

Epilogue

Chris stood near the window before the bell rang. She had come to class fifteen minutes earlier than usual, mainly to avoid the crowds in the hallways. English was the only lesson the girl could attend today, since she was only released from the hospital in the afternoon.

She had to think about it.

Looking in the mirror briefly, Chris gave a stifled gasp of mild surprise as she noticed that the outlines changed briefly. She was in the cave, and midnight fire was blazing from the dark.

Six boys were gathered around the fire, as one of them stood up holding a familiar thick book in his hands. The fire lighted his dreamy smile, and Chris couldn't help it but wink as the boy winked back at her. Apparently, his life was back to normal – or as normal as life at that time could possibly be.

"So, Miss Hatcheson, you finally decided to grace us with your presence here today," a feminine voice broke effectively through Chris's reverie. The girl glanced up with a start and gave relieved grin at her teacher.

"Miss Richards, good to see you're still in here. I was sorta afraid they'd kick you out."

Her teacher laughed briefly.

"It's quite alright Chris, this time the Captain's here to stay."

"Oh, Captain, my captain," Chris laughed, jauntily saluting her grinning teacher.

Her words were drowned in the bell announcing the beginning of the next class and the group of students poured into the room.

The year slowly came to a close. The group of students that became known as Dead Poets Society has grown from seven members to sixteen. The newest members haven't said a word of their existence so far. The group stood close by the doors of Welton with summer rolling over their heads.

"Oh, here's my dad now," Alex cheered. "Hey, Dad!"

"Alex." Perry the elder tried to sound stern, but his dark eyes twinkled with laughter. "What is it I hear about you diving head first in the so-called Society?"

"Da-ad," Alex whined. "Save the lecture, puh-lease!"

Mr Perry laughed and mussed up his son's dark hair. Alex wriggled out of his dad's touch who had now turned to the group. Mr Perry's eyebrows shot up in amusement as he glanced at Chris standing with Ana.

"Why, hello there, Miss Puck. What a pleasant surprise." He greeted.

"Mr Perry…" Chris was dumbfounded for a moment before grinning at him. "Good to know you managed to keep your wits around, Captain, Sir."

The man nodded at her lightly.

"Good to know you're all right, Miss Puck."

Chris slightly raised her eyebrows as she watched the two Perry men leave the group.

It seemed to Chris that the life came to a standstill in the cave. She sat down on the ground, hugging her knees together. The year had passed – nnot without problems, or without troubles, but still. And life became just that one year shorter.

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

'Imagaine this is somebody's life,' she remembered Miss Richards saying as the teacher picked up a leaf that day. 'It will soon fall apart, for the leaf is golden. Somebody's end of life. This one… the dust… is somebody who had already died.'

Chris sighed in the empty cave, letting dust and leaves swirl through her fingers.

"Somebody's lives, huh?" she whispered in the cave. "I guess I already left my verse in there."

Of eyes that vainly crave the light--of the objects mean--of the struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all--of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest--with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?

Lying back on the ground, Chris gave a sudden grin. The lightheaded feeling returned to her again, as she grinned lightly.

"All I have to do is to survive my next year and I'll be away from here," she decided aloud. "And I think it's important not to rush these decisions…"

The girl chuckled.

"Look at me, talking to myself. I don't really know what I'm going to do, but I think I already have left some sort of a verse here. I mean, we are on the open now."

Answer.

Chris chuckled and rose.

"Dead Poets Society, huh," she whispered. "I wonder how we're going to survive the last year of school."

Regretfully, she climbed out of the cave, leaving the 'Five Centuries of Verse' inside – folded in the same material she had found it in.

"Don't you worry," she said before exiting. "We're not done yet. We'll be back."

That you are here--that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

FIN.