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Feeling guilty about letting Blaine be his guinea pig, although he knew he shouldn't, Major agreed to go with Liv to the lounge where Blaine sang and listen to his set. To his surprise, Blaine wasn't bad. He was a little pretentious and full of himself—it was Blaine, after all—but for the purposes of the music, it worked.

Major sat at the bar with Liv and had a drink, and watched her face as she watched the music, and for a moment he could pretend that nothing had ever happened and they were here together the way they used to be. If he were honest with himself, he still wished they could just go back to that, and get married, and make it so that none of this had ever happened. If he could go back in time and tell her to come home with him, stay up all night watching old movies and making love on the couch, and not go to that damn boat party, he would. Without a moment's hesitation. But … he wondered if Liv would. She found a fulfillment in her work with Clive, solving mysteries, that he had never seen in her as a medical student, dedicated as she had been to her studies and the idea of being a doctor.

It didn't matter, anyway, because he couldn't go back in time. He was stuck with things the way they had happened, and with his own imminent loss of life—or of self, and he wasn't sure which was worse.

"Whoo!" Liv called next to him, cupping her hands around her mouth. "'Free Bird'! 'Free Bird'!"

Blaine looked over at her in exasperation, giving her a little shake of the head, and launched into a bluesy version of Stevie Nicks' "Leather and Lace". He really was pretty good at this.

Liv settled back on her stool, pouting. "Spoilsport." She stirred her drink with the little plastic straw and drained it, turning to set the glass down on the counter and signal for another.

Major was ready for round two, as well. Getting blitzed sounded pretty good right about now.

"We should dance," Liv announced, sliding off her stool.

Catching her by the arm, Major pulled her back. "I'm not drunk enough yet."

She considered that, nodded, and hopped back up. "Later in the night."

"How long does this go on, anyway?"

"As long as Blaine can keep playing?"

Major groaned. "We're going to be here a long time."

"Well, on the bright side, at least he's not—" She caught herself and leaned in to him, whispering, "You know. Because then we really would be here all night."

"Good point." Her mentioning that effectively killed any buzz Major might have been building up, though, as he watched Blaine closely for any sign that his memories might be returning. He could tell Blaine had noticed his scrutiny, because the next song was "Try to Remember," accompanied by a little smirk. Major leaned over to Liv. "I hate that guy."

"You and everybody else." Over his shoulder, Liv seemed to see someone near the door, and she sat up straighter. "Almost everybody," she amended.

Major turned to follow her line of sight and saw Peyton coming in. She wasn't happy—he had known her long enough to be able to see that in the slump of her shoulders and the shortness of her steps. She didn't look at Blaine as she came in, either, which heartened Major until he noticed how tight her face was. She was working hard to keep from crying. Something had happened tonight, and it wasn't good.

By the time she reached Liv, Peyton had lost the battle with her tears. Liv put out her arms and Peyton put her head down on her best friend's shoulder and cried, right there in the bar. Blaine missed a note, and Major looked over to see that he, too, was watching Peyton with concern on his face.

With an obvious effort, Peyton pulled herself together before too many of their fellow patrons noticed that she had fallen apart. Liv grabbed a cocktail napkin off the bar and dabbed gently at Peyton's eyes, wiping away the traces of tears and the faint streaks of mascara they had left behind. Forcing a smile, Peyton leaned her forehead against Liv's for a moment before turning to look at Blaine, a more genuine smile lighting her face, and giving him a little wave to say she was okay.

He looked relieved, and the music changed. Major recognized the opening bars of "Pretty Woman". He wondered what it would be like to have music coming from your fingertips that way.

"Peyton, what happened?" Liv asked.

"Ravi."

"What did he do?" Liv's tone did not bode well for Ravi's future.

"He … I went there to talk to him, because he said he loved me, and—we kissed, but then I heard something, and … This woman was there. He had slept with her, tonight, after what he said earlier, and then he let me kiss him, while she was in the kitchen wearing his shirt!" Peyton's tears had gone, and were rapidly being replaced by anger. For Peyton's sake, Major was glad to see that. For Ravi's, he was sorry. Once Peyton got mad, it was a lot harder to get her back. If Ravi even wanted that now that he had blown it with her so badly. For an otherwise incredibly intelligent man, Ravi was a bit of an idiot when it came to women.

Then again, Major thought, looking at Liv, and thinking about Natalie, wherever she was, his track record wasn't much better.

Blaine was singing "Close to You" now, clearly serenading Peyton, and Major had to admire the guy, seducing Liv's best friend so openly after he had turned Liv into a zombie and indirectly made sure Major became one, too. Peyton sure didn't remember any of that right now, watching Blaine's fingers dance across the piano keys with fascination. Maybe Major would be happier someday when he didn't remember, either … but he didn't want to think about that any further tonight. So for now he would forget his sorrows in the traditional manner—with a liberal application of alcohol.