Wow! I never thought that anyone would actually read my stories, let alone like and review them! Thanks to stardust03 and Nefertari22 for the reviews!

Rating: PG-13

AN: This is Kiera's point of view of what happened in the last chapter. Review if you want, but you don't have to.

Disclaimer: ditto from last chappy

Forgotten

She sat in the small cramped stall, wishing by the fury little precursors that she was anywhere but here. Here being the ladies room of the Naughty Ottsel, among the cheap toilet paper and bad smelling soap. Normally she wouldn't be here, she'd be out in one of the booths, rolling her eyes at one of Daxter's moronic jokes, or having a 'girl talk' with Tess. But today wasn't a normal day. Today, Jak, with the "help" of Daxter of course, had defeated that horrible Errol.

Sometimes -scratch that everyday- she wondered what possessed her to ever talk to the egomaniac. All he'd ever done was hit on her and try to get her to be his mechanic. But the past was past. Something else had happened.

That something else had been not the salvation of the planet, nor the destruction of her metallic stalker; no, she Kiera, the ever loyal and cheerful mechanic had been dumped. Not the 'Oh, we've grown apart, let's see other people' dumped, no the 'I'm gonna make out in front of you with a girl with boobs the size of my head while everyone cheers' dumped.

The young aqua-haired racer had watched as Jak had gave Ashelin her kiss. The kiss interrupted every single time by a certain fuzzy orange precursor. Kiera sighed. Seventeen years old and never been kissed? That was sad. Well, technically she had been kissed, but the guy was drunk and she had moved so he only got her chin before she smacked him upside the head. That particular lip fiasco didn't count because she was saving her real one for Jak...

She sighed again. For a second she had almost forgot about him. About those eyed, that smile, how he had betrayed her with some red-headed whore... Kiera knew she could never be anything like Ashelin. She was tall and curvy, with a purr-like voice guys loved. She herself was petite and, although not exactly boyish, she could never measure up to the governesses standards. Any sane guy would choose Ashelin, end of story.

Someone suddenly knocked on the door, obviously needing to use the toilet she was currently perched on. So, sighing for the third time that night, she got up and left the little bathroom, heading into the noisy bar.

Quickly scanning the bar, she immediately spotted the owner of her unreturned affections and his new lap bitch. The two were currently locked in a passionate kiss, not paying any attention to Daxter and Tess who were cuddled up near them. Daxter was so drunk he couldn't form a coherent word, just a bunch of mumbles.

Her father was having a conversation with the precursors, along with Onin and Pecker. Kiera gave a slight inward smile. The green sage had spent the majority of his life obsessing about the precursors, who turned out to be a bunch of furry rodents. The irony almost made her laugh. Almost.

She ignored all the other people in the bar, not really caring if she seemed rude. It wasn't like anyone really noticed any ways. They were all to busy celebrating their salvation.

The green-eyed girl made her way over to the practically empty bar. Only one other person was seated there, about four stools from her. Torn.

She hadn't thought about what he might have felt. After all, he and Ashelin were always flirting, however well hidden they thought it was. It stood to reason that he would be hurt by the traitorous lip-lock as well. Kiera was certain he was, if the distant look and heavy scowling said anything. If she'd have been in a better mood, she might've been more friendly towards him, but she wasn't so she said nothing.

Instead, she grabbed a root beer from behind the counter. Right now she would've preferred something much stronger but, alas, she was underage and was a law abiding citizen so she opted for a non alcoholic drink. She took a seat on one of the low stools and opened up her bottle with a hiss.

She felt someone looking at her all of a sudden. Not a glare, but a simple glance it seemed. Before she could find out who the glancer was, they looked away. 'Probably just looking at the time,' she guessed, not really caring one way or the other. The mirror behind the bar showed all the action going on behind her and she surveyed it with longing. How much did she wish she was with everyone, laughing and getting drunk. Right now though she was too tired, and she wanted to remain the angsty misunderstood girl for a little longer. She turned her eyes to the other occupant of the counter instead.

Torn was still there, sloshing the beer that was left around the bottle, staring at the bubbles in made in the amber liquid inside. She couldn't help but admire the ice blue orbs doing the staring. She'd seen those same eyes cold and ruthless as he took down metal head after metal head. They'd been deep and tactical as he ordered his men on the battle field. But never had she seen them happy. The real happy. Amused, confused, and angry. But never happy.

Kiera chugged the rest of her drink as she tried to fathom never feeling happy. Never feeling the elation of victory or the joy of spontaneousness. The petite seventeen year old reached for another root beer. And, try as she might, she couldn't get the damn thing open! She let way of yet another sigh, this one from frustration and set the offending bottle back on the counter top. She sent it a glare, as if blaming it for her bad night.

All of a sudden, the bottle flew from the table, hissed open, and set itself back down. Kiera, knowing it didn't do it itself, looked up to find the same orbs she had just been admiring moments before. She was temporarily struck dumb by the realization of just how tall Torn was. He had to be at least a foot taller than her. When she finally was able to speak again, she gave a small, but, believe it or not, true smile and squeaked out, "Thanks."

"No problem," he replied in that deep, throaty voice of his. And he smiled. Like hers, it was small but wasn't fake; he didn't fake the few smiles he did smile. With that he left the Naughty Ottsel, not stopping to say anything to anyone. Kiera watched him from the mirror and, although she was disgusted with herself, her gaze roamed from the dagger strapped to his armor to perfect, round little butt. Although, she reasoned with herself, any sane girl would have to check that out.

thanks for readin' y'all! This chappy had a slight bit of humor at the end, but I thought it was needed to liven things up, don't cha think?