Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this fic. Otherwise, I'd have Charlie all to myself! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA

"Mr. Dalton!" Mr. Crocelli's voice echoed loudly in the class.

Charlie popped his eyes open. "Sorry, sir."

"Study hard last night?" Mr. Crocelli lightly asked.

"Yes, Sir." Charlie rolled his head.

"Good. I shall then expect you to pass." The bell rang. "Don't forget your assignment and Mr. Dalton, please stay behind a moment."

Charlie sighed. Every teacher was, in his opinion, out to get him. "Sir?"

Mr. Crocelli sat in the desk in front of Charlie. "I recognize that tired look, Mr. Dalton. Don't think I don't. I don't have to tell you of the consequences should this administration find out. You already know. But, Mr. Dalton, I beseech you to be careful and wise in this endeavor. I know what bonds can be formed in the Society and which ones will test your very core. If this is important to you, Mr. Dalton, I encourage you to use it as a time of bonding, not just wooing women."

"Mr. Crocelli?"

"Yes, Mr. Dalton?"

"We know what brought our chapter down. What broke yours?"

Mr. Crocelli smiled. "You'll be late to English and Mr. Evans will be none too happy if you are. Just be careful, Mr. Dalton. But, I am here for the Society, for once a member, always a member." He winked at Charlie.

"Boys, you must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, 'Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.' Don't be resigned to that. Break out! Now we all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go, 'That's baaaaad.' Robert Frost said, 'Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.'"

Charlie stared out the window as he recalled Mr. Keating's words as he taught them the value of being your own person. Everyone in the class was walking in the circle, in every silly imaginable way, but Charlie. He leaned up against a column. "Will you be joining us today, Mr. Dalton?"

"I'm exercising the right not to walk." Was Charlie's simple response, thus proving what Mr. Keating was teaching. Charlie missed Mr. Keating's teaching. Mr. Evans had the ability to teach, but he made it a chore, where as Mr. Keating made it fun and Charlie never realised he was learning until now and as Mr. Evans continued to teach, Charlie swore he heard Mr. Keating in the hall. He snapped his head to the door and remembered Mr. Keating's words to them. The words that Nuwanda felt changed his life.

"Huddle up!" He had to repeat it a second time before the boys huddled around. While most of what Mr. Keating talked about was now forgotten in Charlie's memory, he heard distinctly the words of Mr. Keating talking, as though he knew their thoughts. "We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, 'O me! O life!...of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless...of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?' Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?" Charlie felt Mr. Keating was speaking right to him. My verse, Captain, is to be my own person. Charlie thought as the bell rang. To make my voice heard. To take the road less traveled by.

Peters snapped his fingers in front of Charlie. "We're dismissed, Dalton."

"Oh. Thanks, Peters. We on for study tonight?" Charlie stood and gathered his things. As he walked out of the door, he stepped in to the path of a teacher. "Sorry, Sir."

"Just like you, Mr. Dalton, to not watch what you're doing and I am no sir. I am your Captain, remember?"

Charlie snapped his head up. "Mr. Keating!"

"Mr. Dalton." The teacher smiled at his former student. "I suppose you're wondering why I am here."

"Yes, Captain."

"I am here to interview for a job." Mr. Keating's eyes twinkled.

"Would Hell-ton give you a recommendation?"

"No." Mr. Keating laughed. "I'm here to meet with Mr. Crocelli, your Latin teacher, who assures me you are in no sort of trouble." He winked.

"No, Captain. No trouble at all." Charlie smiled.

Neal Henry came up behind Charlie, causing Mr. Keating to take a step back. Neal pretended not to notice and stuck his hand out. "Neal Henry. Charlie's friend. You must be the world famous Mr. Keating he's spoken so much of."

Mr. Keating shook Neal's hand. "Yes. Sorry about a moment ago. I just…I've seen you before. I know it."

Neal smiled. "Charlie's always talking about you. Says that you taught him how to suck the marrow out of life."

Mr. Keating shot a look Charlie's way. "I thought you were using it for good, Mr. Dalton."

Charlie smiled. "I am." Seeing the look in Mr. Keating's eyes, Charlie held his hands up. "I promise, Mr. Keating."

"And his promise is about as good as yours, John." Mr. Crocelli's voice was light.

"AH! Gianni." The men shook hands and started reminiscing

"Mr. Keating?"

"Yes, Nuwanda?" Mr. Keating's blue eyes danced.

"Nothing." Charlie started to walk off.

"Nothing, Mr. Dalton?"

Charlie stopped. "Mr. Keating," Charlie waited until Neal was out of earshot. "Please tell me I'm not the only one…"

"Who sees Neil?"

"Yeah."

"You're not." Mr. Keating took a step back. "Mr. Dalton, you are much changed, I must say. When I first met you, you couldn't wait to suck the marrow…the entire marrow…from life. And now…now you seem more reserved."

"Don't let this fluke moment fool you, John. Our Mr. Dalton is just as much a trouble maker now as he was at Hell-ton." Mr. Crocelli winked and smiled.

Mr. Keating smileed at Charlie as he walked down the hall. "Who was that?" Brooks' voice interrupted Charlie's memories.

"Mr. Keating." Charlie smiled and looked at Haldon. "We meet tonight."