A/N: Welcome to Part III! Personally, I still don't know if I agree with my decision to continue this story after the Abby/Hoagie section. It seems to have gone downhill. But, I think this section is already a little better than the Kuki/Wally one. So Enjoy!
Part III
Chapter 1
Rachel McKenzie was looking for Nigel Uno. It was lunch time, but she knew her bald friend would never be caught dead in such a crowded place as the cafeteria. So, she walked the halls to the school, heading for the art room. Rachel spent a significant amount of time in this room, especially considering she'd never once taken an art class.
She wanted to talk to Nigel about what had happened a couple weeks ago at Kuki Sanban's house. Rachel has always known she and Nigel were different. Neither of them could remember their childhood. She could only remember Nigel and he could only remember her. However, Nigel would sometimes have these clairvoyant moments that she never had. There was something odd going on, but it turned out the Kuki and Abby were also in on it. Something that came to Rachel as such a relief and as a message that this was something they could all figure out together.
Rachel turned a corner and stood outside the doorway to her friend's favorite haunt. He wouldn't want to meet Rachel's other friends. But she had to try, for his sake and her own. She pushed open the wooden door and found Nigel hunched over a canvas, a paint brush gripped like a lifeline in his callused fingers.
He always looked happiest when he was painting. He would sit on that stool and pick up a brush and every time she could see his eyes brighten. She could watch him paint forever, just because it made him happy. When he painted, sometimes she would catch a glimpse of the person he might have been.
Rachel didn't know who that boy was or what had happened to him. But, it was more than possible that she would've loved him. Rachel loved the boy that sat before her, too, but he made it hard. Rachel had her doubts that Nigel could feel much of anything. She knew most people would've given up on him by now. But Rachel never gave up. And besides, he was her best friend.
She wanted to, needed to, fix him. There was nothing she could do to replace whatever memories both of them had seemingly lost. But, there are other people like them. Kuki and Abby. More kids with a gaping hole of unexplainable nothingness in their past. Nigel needed to meet them, Rachel knew that much.
Rachel stood up behind him as his hand danced expertly across the canvas. He was painting himself. "Nigel?" she began.
He turned, startled. "Oh, Rachel, did you just come in?" he asked, confusedly. Nigel placed his paintbrush down with care.
It killed her when he got like this. Sometimes, he got so into painting he would forget where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. Rachel shook her blonde head and looked worriedly down at him. "Didn't you hear the door?"
"No. You were saying?" He glanced up at her expectedly.
Rachel inhaled. He wouldn't like what she was going to suggest. "Maybe this weekend you'd come over to Abby's with me? She's like us, Nigel. I think it'd be good for you." She said all of this quickly before he could interrupt.
The bald boy turned his head back towards the painting taking shape in front of him. "No."
Rachel had expected this. Nigel didn't talk to anyone beside her. He never sought the company of others. She was pretty sure he didn't even want her around half the time. "Nigel, you know what your mom said," she warned.
Nigel's parents were worried. And they had a right to be. The way they saw it, Nigel had gone from an outgoing, vibrant kid to a sullen, quiet boy in a matter of days. And then stayed in this worry-inducing manner for four years. The word 'therapy' had been tossed around the Uno household recently. Rachel was going to do anything in her power to make sure that didn't happen. If there was something wrong with Nigel, she would be the one to figure it out. She would be the one to save him.
"My mother can do whatever she pleases," Nigel replied.
Rachel wanted to rip that paintbrush out of his fingers. She wanted to make him see. See what she was trying to do for him; what she'd been trying to do for almost four years. But she didn't, because that wasn't what he needed. "I want to help you," Rachel whispered.
For the second time, Nigel's head turned and he looked at her. He had brown eyes; she knew that as well as she knew that the same was true about her. But, sometimes, Rachel swore they were black. Like a hole. A hole that no one had any hope of ever climbing out of. "You can't."
A range of emotions washed over the blonde girl. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to make him cry, or show some actual emotions for once in his life. Rachel did not want to let this go, but that's what she did. A shaky breath. He was having a bad day, that's all. She'd try again tomorrow. Rachel turned and left the room quietly. Nigel was always happiest when he was painting, anyway.