For the sake of the story, this takes place before the Santiagos moved out of Royal Woods.

No, not all Lincoln's memories of his sisters are negative ones. But, when plagued with guilt, it can certainly feel that way from the perspective of the Loud girls.

A new day, hoped the Loud sisters, would allow Lincoln to regain his memories.

Rare was it for anyone to wake up early in the Loud House. With 13 people living under the same roof, everyone did their best to get as much uninterrupted sleep as they could. Because of that, everybody usually slept in for as long as possible, not getting out of bed in the mornings until they absolutely had to.

Today, however, was different. Each and every Loud sister had awoken bright and early. They all stood outside of Lincoln's room, peeking in through the crack in his door, craning their necks in an attempt to get a good view of their brother. With nine people crowded around a small space, of course, this proved to be difficult.

"Lori, move your stupid butt!" whisper-yelled Lola, being mindful as to not wake up Lincoln. She was only a few feet away from him, after all.

"I'm trying," shot back Lori, "But it's hard to do when Luna is literally right in front of me."

"Not cool, dude. I'm just trying to get a peek, too."

"Guys, calm down!" said Leni. "Linky is starting to wake up!"

She was right; Lincoln was beginning to stir in his bed. He soon sat up, rubbed his eyes, and reached over to his nightstand, grabbing his glass of water before taking a sip.

Luna, in front of the pack of sisters, knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in!"

Although the door was already open, Luna turned the doorknob to make it appear as if she and the rest of her sisters had not been spying on Lincoln. The musician opened the door all the way, and slowly walked inside.

"H-How are you feeling?"

Lincoln shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, I guess."

There was a pause.

"Lincoln… do you remember me?"

The white-haired boy frowned. "You're Luan, right?"

"I'm Luna," the musician said, her voice trembling. "I'm the one that plays a lot of instruments."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault."

There was another pause, the longest one yet. It was so awkward for both Lincoln and Luna. Neither really had any idea what to say.

"We'll help you through this, Lincoln," said Luna, breaking the silence. "You'll get your memories back eventually… I promise."

Nodding, Lincoln god out of his bed. "Thanks, Luna." He smiled. "Now, uh, mind if… if I get dressed?" His voice sounded uneasy, nervous.

"Uh, sure." Luna began to back up. Her little brother was acting shy and sheepish, almost like he was in a stranger's house. Of course, that was to be expected because of his memory loss, but, still, that didn't make it any less disheartening to see Lincoln acting like he was.

Now alone in the privacy of his room, Lincoln began to get dressed for the day, first putting on a pair of jeans before stretching to throw on one of his orange polo shirts. Although his memory was shot, Lincoln's sense of fashion remained.

Normally, when he came out for breakfast, Lincoln would do so in his underwear. It was much more comfortable, after all, and the 11-year-old wanted to stay comfy for as long as possible before he had to get ready for school.

Today, however, was different. Lincoln felt alien to his own residence. It was almost as if his own sisters, whom he had grown up all his life with, were complete strangers to him.

In his own house, he didn't feel at home.

Clyde knew that Lincoln was a good person. His best friend was always willing to help those in need; he put others before himself, and, sure, he may mess up every now and again (such as the time when he recorded and uploaded embarrassing moments of his sisters to win a video contest), but, still, everyone makes mistakes. What's important is that people learn from them, and Lincoln certainly did— he uploaded a much, much more embarrassing video of himself just to make up for it.

Why, then, did bad things happen to good people? Lincoln didn't deserve to lose his memory.

Clyde sighed. The world wasn't fair, but what could he do about it? Nothing.

Buzz, buzz.

The McBride boy felt a vibration in his pocket. He reached down to take out his phone, which greeted him with a text from Ronnie Anne.

Ronnie Anne | 9:02: AM: hey, wanna hang out with lame-o later today?

Oh, no. Clyde knew that Ronnie Anne didn't yet know about his condition. It had happened only yesterday, and the Loud family was so busy trying to get Lincoln back to normal that they had not yet had time to talk to any of their friends about this. Clyde knew that if Lori told Bobby about it, then Bobby would tell his little sister— he was one of Ronalda's best friends, after all.

Clyde | 9:05 AM: uh, we need to talk, meet at the park in 10 mins?

Ronnie Anne | 9:06: AM uhh, ok? you better not waste my time, McBride.

After informing his parents that he was heading off, Clyde slipped on his coat and headed outside. The air was cold, and the wind stung the exposed skin of his hands.

Michigan, he thought.

Clyde had walked to the park dozens of times, so, naturally, his trip didn't last long. Once there, he saw Ronnie Anne sitting on a park bench, still wearing her helmet. Below her was her skateboard.

"You got here quick," Clyde said, approaching.

"You should learn to skate, McBride." Ronalda smiled. "I had a lot of fun teaching Lincoln… even though he puked a few times. Speaking of Lame-O, where is he?"

"Uh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Lincoln, well, he…" Clyde gulped. He was going to tell her everything. Although she didn't know Lincoln as long as Clyde, Ronnie Anne was still just as good as a friend, so she deserved to know the truth.

"His memory, is, well, really messed up right now. He didn't even know who I was when I visited him yesterday."

"Oh... wow." Ronnie Anne's voice faltered. She wasn't really an emotional person, but hearing that her best friend didn't even know who she was at the moment was no light information to be dumped on her. "How the hell did Lincoln of all people hit his head? His idea of fun is reading comics naked."

"He hit his head on a rock or something, that's all I really know. It happened two days ago, I just learned about it yesterday."

Ronalda cringed. She's been in enough skateboard accidents to know that landing on a rock did not feel good. Lincoln hit his head, and it must have been pretty hard, too, since his memory was shot at the moment. Ouch!

"I want to talk to Lame-O."

Clyde nodded. Yesterday, he had attempted to refresh Lincoln's memory by telling him stories of their escapades together. Although Lincoln couldn't remember anything, he seemed to enjoy hearing about his past. The McBride boy was sure that whatever stories Ronnie Anne could tell him would bring be most welcomed to his white-haired friend.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

Ronalda stood up and pulled her skateboard out from under the park bench with her foot. "You coming?"

"Naw, you should see him alone, first. I don't want to overwhelm him."

Nodding, Ronnie Anne mounted her skateboard. "In that case… smell ya' later, McBride."

In the master bedroom of the Loud house, the Loud family patriarch was brooding.

His son, as the doctor told them, suffered major injuries from Lynn's roughhousing. Apparently, she tackled him and then pounced on him during a football game; he hit his head pretty hard on a rock and was rendered unconscious.

Part of him told him that the incident was nobody's fault. Growing up in a family of thirteen, his children were bound to roughhouse and go too far at times. It was natural. Nobody was perfect, after all; children fought all the time, especially the ones closer in age.

Another, much bigger part of Lynn, however, believed that he had a large hand to play in Lincoln's condition. It made the father sick to know that this happened to his own child, in his own backyard, and to his own resolve. Where was he when the fight was taking place? Why did he not better teach his children not to go too far? What kind of a father was he to allow this to happen, for Christ's sake?!

One thing was for certain, though; he was going to do anything it took to get Lincoln back to normal again.

A big wave of warmth came over Ronnie Anne as she entered the Loud residence, getting away from the unforgiving cold of the outdoors. Lori had opened the door for her; the teen was the only Loud in the living room at the moment, and everyone else was elsewhere in the house doing their own thing. Anything to take their minds off of Lincoln's condition, even for just a few minutes, was welcome. The Loud sisters vowed to do anything in their power to help Lincoln back to normal, but they needed a break every now and then.

"Hey, Lori." Ronalda wiped her feet on the welcome mat on the living room ground.

The two made light conversation for a while. They spoke about school, the weather, and the local election. Eventually, though, Ronnie Anne popped the question.

"So, I heard Lincoln hit his head or something? His memory is fuzzy, right?

Lori gulped. Nobody wanted to be the bearer of bad news, but, somebody had to tell Ronnie Anne what happened.

"Lynn, uh… she was a little too rough with him when we were playing football a couple of days ago. She tackled him and he hit his head on a big rock."

The teen looked on with Ronnie Anne with concern. Currently, with Lincoln's memories gone, it was Lori who knew the most about the Santiago girl. After all, it was rare for a day to go by without her having a conversation with Bobby, and her boyfriend often talked about his little sister. Like Lori, Bobby was close to his family.

Because of that, the eldest Loud sibling felt concerned. She knew that Ronnie Anne was rash, and often acted on impulse without fully thinking through the long-term consequences. Upon learning that it was really Lynn and her recklessness who was responsible for Lincoln's concussion, Lori half expected Ronalda to ball up her fists, head upstairs, and proceed to beat up the athlete.

Ronnie Anne didn't whip out a gun and run up to Lynn's room, though; all she did was nod slowly.

"Oh… wow."

Lori let out a sigh of relief that she didn't even know that she was holding, thankful that Ronalda was handling the news surprisingly well. It looks like Lynn wasn't going to be turned into a human pretzel anytime soon.

"I'm going to use your bathroom, Lori."

Ronnie Anne was calm— at the very least, she appeared that way. As the 11-year-old made her way up the stairs, however, that began to change. Her hands began to ball into fists. She gritted her teeth. Her steps became heavier, angrier.

Upon hearing that Lynn was responsible for Lincoln's concussion, Ronalda grew furious. How could Lynn be so rough with her own little brother? Lincoln was the sweetest person Ronnie Anne knew. And, all over a stupid football game?

She hid her rage, however. Ronnie Anne didn't want to make a scene. Not yet.

Now, at the top of the stairs, the Santiago girl stood in front of Lynn's doorway. She took a deep breath.

Ronnie Anne kicked down Lynn's door, and, wasting no time, power walked over to the athlete, who was sitting on her bed. Rolling up her sleeves as she went, Ronnie Anne did not delay; she grabbed a surprised Lynn, and, exerting all of her strength, swung her off of the bed and into her wall, right below her window. Lynn slammed into the wall hard, causing the room to shake and her window to crack.

The athlete was upside down. Her head was on the ground, and her legs were stretched in the air. She was in a daze, her vision blurry. Was this what Lincoln felt like when she tackled him?

"You're dead, sporty"

Lynn's vision was beginning to return to normal, but as she did, she saw Ronnie Anne coming back at her. Quickly, Lynn rolled to the left, just as Ronalda gave a firm kick in her direction. Luckily for the athlete, she had dodged just in time; Ronnie Anne's foot hit the dresser, and she cursed as she grabbed her foot in pain.

"What the hell, Santiago!" cried Lynn, standing up. Unsurprisingly, she was sore from being flung into her own dresser.

"What you did to Lincoln was sick. I'm going to have to knock some sense into you." The Santiago girl cracked her knuckles and gritted her teeth.

"Oh, it's on."