Author's Note: Plot! Look, it's plot!

Genre: Drama/Suspence
Pairings: None this chapter
Rating: PG this time
Chapter Summary: Torn from pleasent memories, Jenny decides to take action in the one place she wished she could never remember. A "gift" is presented for the occasion.

No Need for Apologies
Chapter Three: To Remember
By: Mazzie May

Jenny sneezed and wrapped the giant quilt around her. It had leaf patterns all over it, in different shades of green and yellow. The underside was a foresty colour. It was something that was comfortable. It was something that was safe. It was something that made her feel loved.

It was something that was Helen's.

She stuffed her face deep within the folds of the quilt. It felt like Helen, it smelled like Helen, it let her bury her face into it like Helen… A burning sensation spread behind her eyes and she bit her lip. I miss Helen, she thought, the soft fabric absorbing her tears straight from her ducts, keeping her cheeks dry.

Jenny was bold, stubborn and downright rude half the time. But those were defenses; she only acted that way when she was scared, unsure and offended. If Helen was around, if some as strong as Helen was around, she wouldn't have to resort to those defenses so often.

Clara was protective, furiously so. She banned all scissors and the colour red in her house, and enforced it with an iron fist. She could be the sweetest woman with the softest touch and the kindest smile. Jenny removed her face from the softness and looked at the Amour against the far wall.

It was stuffed full of firearms; various handguns, a couple of shotguns, a few select fully automatics... Yes, Clara was Mrs. Cleaver. A heavily harmed Mrs. Cleaver. One of the reasons the country aloud Clara to take Jenny was that she's ex-marine and retired Secret Service for the First Lady. She knows a thing or two about protection and safety, and she moved all the way to Norway from the US solely to protect Jenny.

But Clara only made her feel physically safe. And while that was important, Jenny was pretty damn confident in her own self-preserving abilities (and rightfully so—look what she's managed to get herself out of!). What she needed was someone who could protect her mind. When she had nightmares, Clara would hold her and tell her that whatever happened in her mind couldn't hurt her.

She was half right.

"Jen-Jen!"

Jenny looked out into the doorway, and saw Clara close the door. She opened her mouth to say hi, but immediately closed when she saw the extremely pissed of expression on her guardian's face.

Clara threw an opened newspaper on the coffee table. Jenny leaned forward to read the front-page headline.

BURROUGHS MANSION SCHEDUALED FOR CONVERSTION!
Due to the fire at the Haven Museum of Art, located in Lillehammer, the Curator,
one Professor Rupert Mainden, was looking for another historical place of fine
craftsmen work to house his treasures. Lucky for him, the government finally
placed the Burroughs Mansion on the market. At a cool 7.5 million € (9.5 million,
US), Mainden purchased the estate. After receiving the keys, Mainden was quite
surprised to the find the place completely furnished. "The Governor never sent in
a clean up crew," Mainden later said. "Gave me quite the start! Though, I must
admit, I'm very glad he was so lazy." Apparently, the mansion is stuffed full of old
relics and paintings and other things the Curator is excited about it. "I'll be putting
off the clearing out process until I've had a chance to examine everything," he said
yesterday. As many of you know, the Burroughs Estate was home to some grizzly
murders some years back, despite that…

Jenny couldn't read anymore. Her lower lip quivering, she looked up and found herself alone in the room. Clara forgotten, she reached for her cell phone. She screwed up the number twice, but got it right on the third try. Shaking, she lost more of her composure with every hallow ring.

Finally, he answered.

"Talk to me!" he called into the receiver.

"Nolan!" she cried, holding the phone with both hands. "The paper! Did you see the—"

"Yeah, yeah, we saw. We're going."

"What?"

"When Tim brought it to my attention, I threatened Baids into assigning me to cover it."

Jenny sat still for a moment. Then, quietly, "Take me with you."

"What? Speak up!"

Louder, "Take me with you!"

"What!" Nolan had a happen of mocking people, but that exclamation had been of genuine surprise.

"Do it, Nolan!" She stood, still hugging the quilt. "Take me with you or I'll hitchhike there."

"Jenny—"

"Nolan!"

There was a heavy sound on the other end of the phone, and then what sounded like muffled arguing. She bit her lip, feeling the skin break. The argument stopped, and he took his hand away from the phone. "We'll be there in ten. Be ready."

"I will be." They hung up. Nolan never said goodbye, so she didn't either. She turned, balling the quilt up. "Clara!" She stepped into the hall, looking up the stairs. "Clara!"

"I'm packing!" Jenny's head snapped back, looking past the stairs, farther down the hall where Clara's room was. "I'm going with you!"

Jenny thought about arguing, but decided against it. Instead, she jogged up the stairs to stuff her duffle bag. Her room was a pale yellow, buttercup, with white trim. Her bedspread was white, her curtains were white, her carpet was white… It's a pretty room. She dropped to her knees and retrieved the black bag. Helen had bought it for her when Jenny signed up for soccer. She never used it. She left it unzipped on her bed, throwing open the closest doors (also white).

Even though the mansion wasn't what it used to be, and even though she knew it shouldn't—wouldn't—be a problem, she grabbed a couple of t-shirts, a windbreaker and a couple of pairs of jeans. It was easiest to run in those. After stuffing those into the bag, she grabbed another pair of jeans and a sweater, heading for the bathroom.

She closed door. She wasn't sure why, but she always did. Even though her bedroom door was closed, and Clara wouldn't come in without asking--and even if she did, it's not like she didn't know what a naked girl looked like. Then again, Jenny thought pulling off her turtleneck. I'm never naked.

She always changed in parts. Take off the shirt, put on the new shirt, throw old shirt in laundry bin. Put on the pants under the long skirt, take off the long skirt, throw long skirt in laundry bin. Bathing was different, and she was quick as could be, but her long hair made it a little difficult. Still, she was in and out in less than seven minutes.

Picking the bare necessities out of her medicine cabinet, it happened.

A shadow passed beneath the door.

She froze, and then slowly turned her head towards the door, looking down at the space between it and carpet. She waited. Nothing. Turning completely, she quietly turned the doorknob, and then threw open the door with as much for as she could from that angle. It didn't hit anybody.

She stepped out, carefully. After the mannequin and trophy room, she'd learned to be aware of all minute changes. A quick horizontal scan of the room revealed little. Had she imagined it? Probably. She checked her door and windows. Locked. Considering her soon-to-be current situation, her mind was getting ahead of itself. Getting the better of her.

She shook her head and retrieved her toothbrush and make-up, calling herself paranoid. She'd been under the bed and in her closet. No one had been in either of those places. And if the door and windows were locked from the inside… Get it together, Jennifer. You're an adult. As she zipped up the bag, she paused. You're a grown-up. The phrasing made her feel better.

Shouldering the bag, she unlocked the door and opened, turning to her (white) vanity for her keys. Her hand hovered over them as she looked just to the right.

A glass bottle that she almost recognized sat there.

It was filled with a goldy-red colour. Brandy? she wondered, slowly unscrewing the intricate top on the bottle. Removing it revealed that it was indeed was not brandy, but the scent was one that would never leave her. She coughed and gagged, falling against her bed in disbelief.

Mary's perfume! She coughed some more. The dogs and the robe and the perfume…! Her body adjusting to the shock value, she pushed herself up and, covering her mouth and nose, she leaned towards it. Tied to it was a note. Carefully, she flipped it over.

You might need it again.
Though, Mother wore it better.

She leaned back quickly, eyes heading right for the mirror. She was scared she'd find Bobby, but she expected Dan, donned in mask in all. But how! Her mind asked as her eyes scanned her background. Where would he have been..?

But there was no one. The room behind her was empty. She blinked, turning around and looked again. Nothing. No one. Confused, and nearly annoyed, she bent back over the vanity, rereading the note. Why would she need it again? Surely those dogs couldn't be… Then again, when she escaped, the politi did swarm the place. And if the Governor really hadn't had everything inside liquefied, then it's possible an animal caretaker would've been coming to feed them. But why not just take them away?

A honking horn outside symbolized a rushed Nolan, and the sound nearly made her jump out of her skin. Swallowing, she muttered, "To hell with it" and grabbed the bottle and put the cap on it as she was jumping down the stairs, three at a time. Clara held the door open for her.

Jenny rushed out into the snow and Tim pushed open the back passenger door for her. She slid in next to him, shoving the tightly closed perfume bottle deeply into her bag. She zipped it up again, handing the bag to Clara, who placed it in the trunk before getting into the front passenger seat.

She looked at Tim who was looking down at her hands. She looked, too. They were shaking. She quickly pulled her fingers in to form fists and smiled at him. "Nervous," she offered with a small shrug.

He gave her a shaky smile. "Me, too."

She patted his knee, trying to reassure him. He nodded his thanks, even though they both knew he was still scared, and he went back to fiddling with his camera. She turned to Nolan as they pulled away from the curb.

He flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror to look at her. "We're looking at a thirteen hour drive," he stated. Jenny's eyebrows came together in anger, and her mouth dropped in surprise. He held up his hand to cut her off. "I'm going to go a hundred and twenty the whole way, Jen. That'll knock it to seven hours, easy."

She closed her mouth, still pissed off. But seven was better than thirteen by a long shot. She leaned back against the seat, holding the door handle as Nolan turned a million times too sharp on a corner, forcing the car on two wheels. No one flinched. They were used to Nolan's driving. That besides, after everything they've been through, they were confident a car accident would not take their lives. Despite the fact that a car accident caused by Nolan would be a fifty-car pile up extravaganza, with metal and rubber raining down, whilst people spin through the air.

"Jen-Jen, dear." Jenny looked away from the window and leaned over to look between the two front seats. "Here, wrap yourself in this. Don't want you catching cold." Clara turned around—she wasn't wearing her seatbelt—and handed her Helen's quilt.

Jenny squeaked, and gladly took it. After seeing that shadow under her door, she'd forgotten all about it. She brought her knees up, tucking herself in, bringing it high enough that all they could see were her eyes and the top of her head. Clara patted her knee, turning back and Nolan rolled his eyes, letting his foot ride heavy on the gas as they entered the expressway.

She turned and saw that Tim was looking at. "Wanna touch it?" she asked, like a small child. Tim smiled and reached out.

"It's nice!"

"I know!" she chirped.

She might not like where she's going, but the way there didn't have to be so bad. She looked back out the window, looking for the sun in the cloudy sky. If she had to guess, it was a little after noon. And she thought of Dan.

Oh, poor Dan. She hadn't even considered what he must've thought when he saw the paper. He could have either dived deeper into his depression, or the information might've sent him over the edge. Which might explain the perfume... Regardless, what if he needed someone right now? And she'd just left. Underneath green fabric she felt her pockets. Just her keys. Nope, she didn't bring her phone. Damn. And there was no way to explain to them why they should go back. Not that Nolan would. Not for Edward. But still…

As soon as they reached their destination, she was borrowing Clara's phone and bolting for the bathroom. She'll call and see how he is then. Yeah, sounds like a plan.

"Hey, Jen." She turned to Nolan. "Give us a brief run down on the build of the mansion. If he doesn't let us in, we'll break in, and we've got to know what kind of place we're in."

She let out a shaky breath. She closed her eyes, leaning as far back into the seat as the upholstery would allow. "Okay… you start in the first foyer. There's stairs, and there's a door directly across from the entrance. When you go in the door…"


Author's Note: And we've got a story going! Whee! Finally, a storyline! Thank god. A reason for people to read this! So... go ahead and read. And there's sixty two hits on this thing, I know you're reading this. So, leave a review, okay? It doesn't have to be signed, I take anon. Even a basic "You suck" is alright. And even though I'd like to know why it sucked, at least that tells me I need to be watching for something . I just want to know what peopel think.

R&R PLEASE. Any commentarty appreciated.