Okay, on my fandoms, updating is gonna be a bit of a struggle. I'm having the whip cracked at me for finishing school early. I also have a short-term substitute job since the person who usually does it won't be back for a while, so a lot of home time is going to be involved in homework. About 1 more chapter after this one on and I'll continue onto TIA and Area 52 Triad.

Jeffrey held his head in his head, his fingers pressing tightly against his scalp. He knew he should've brought Amelia home. It was going to be a while before he would think about forgiving himself.

"I hate this! I hate it all!" He heard his little sister angrily yell before she returned to her series of sobs. "I'll never forgive that idiot! He deserved to die. Good riddance to him!"

"Amelia, dear," Their mother said softly, bringing a cup of tea to her daughter's side. "I know it's hard right now but try to calm down. You're only making your state worse."

"After what happened I'd gladly get worse. I'd gladly die. If Jeff had arsenic to experiment with in his 'lab,' I'd be more than happy to down it."

Well, thankfully Jeffrey had no arsenic, but if he did, he'd gladly get himself a wine goblet, give a toast to life and its sorrows, clink his glass to himself, and drink to their deaths. "Deaths" being more than the one he wanted.

The same night of the party, Amelia assured him that she would be just fine coming home with Lillian and Samantha. Later on that night, a drunk driver collided into the side of the bus that Amelia and her friends were riding home in. Six people died that night, including the drunk, the driver, and sadly…Lillian and Samantha. Amelia was among the survivors of the accident and now spent most of her day on a parlor sofa with a couple stitches on her forehead and a broken leg. With her great hatred against sit-down things like reading and embroidery, she could only watch the outside world she was missing out on.

Jeffrey wiped a couple of tears away and grabbed a couple of tissues for his ailing sister. He knelt down next to her and lifted up her quivering chin with his fingers.

"Here." He said. "I'm sorry I didn't come with you."

"Thanks, Jeff, but I don't need them."

"Why not? You'll make a mess of yourself."

"What, are you nuts? I'm already a mess. And for the record, this is merely sweating through my eyes. Amelia never cries. I'm actually quite happy you didn't come with us; I wouldn't want you gone too."

"I'm glad you think so, Amelia." He reached to hug his sister. For once, instead of shoving him away, she clung onto him and buried her face into his shoulder to cry. He stroked the back of her head and patted her. "I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?"

"No."

"Alright, just give me a holler if anything comes to mind." He retreated back to his room and sat down at his desk. He pulled out a hardcover notebook he had bought a few days ago from under the desk and a slender pencil from an old jam jar he used as a pencil cup. He slipped the writing utensil into a slot into a wooden box, and a loud whirring sounded. In surprise, he covered his ears and pulled the pencil out a few seconds later. The pencil had a fine tip, which made him smile, but boy was that sharpener loud. At the instance of opening that notebook, he wrote down, "Pencil sharpener—needs muffler." Thankfully, rationing was over now, and the only inhibitor from getting a limitless abundance of a necessity was money. Beforehand, the only times one could get a luxury was at Christmas time or during a birthday.

The War had been over for almost ten years, and, as one would expect of any war, several people died. The list included the soldiers in their battles, civilians during raids and bombings, and the Jews during the Holocaust. A good majority were individuals he had never met, seen, or heard of. The rest of them, whether dying as warriors or casualties, were compiled into a list large yet insignificant compared to the one mention earlier. Nevertheless, no matter how small, that list had the most impact on him.

One girl from his elementary school years used to live in London, only about twenty miles (thirty-two kilometers) from Watford, until her parents died in a bombing from the Blitzkrieg. Soon after that, she moved with relatives into the country and was rarely seen for years to come. One of his classmates lost two of his three siblings, both being in the war, and had only a little brother left. The death of Charlotte's brother Joseph made her an only child. And…well, and so on and so forth.

Still, even outside the war, people were dying. People died in accidents like Lillian and Samantha. Plane crashes, car collisions, you name it.

Jews and rebel citizens from Germany and its surrounding countries were sent to concentration camps, such as that hellish nightmare of a place called Auschwitz, and a good deal of them died there of diseases, starvation, and exhaustion.

And there were intentional and cruel methods of attack and murder. At concentration camps several people were placed in gas chambers and asphyxiated to death as they fought for a way out. Twisted wretches would bomb and shoot at and kill innocent people who were just living their normal everyday lives. Even outside of concentration camps, third-world countries and poverty stricken places gave their inhabitants mutual sufferings of hunger and sickness. Out of all this logical thinking Jeffrey realized that he was a spoiled wretch of a genius.

Wait…Genius…yes, genius…

An ambitious yet slightly wicked grin formed on his face as he chuckled. Before shoving them aside, he briefly glanced at his older blueprints. He had helped his family by making all sorts of home appliances like that coffee grinder for his mother and the metronome to help with Mildred's dancing while she still lived at home. Even while staying at the Weavers, he assisted them with nifty, eccentric little contraptions that corresponded with their everyday life.

He began scribbling down frivolously, not bothering to dash the "t"'s or dot the "I"'s. This time he was going to help again. And not just his family. This time he would help the world.

~…later on…~

"Charlotte! Charlotte!" A too familiar voice called. Charlotte turned around. She returned to Northampton to continue her studies the following week.

God, please…She prayed, despite her agnostic beliefs. She braced herself and turned around to meet her British friend.

"Hi, Jeff," She greeted, noticing his beaming wide smile. "What's going on?"

"I've a new concept for an experiment!" He announced.

"Really?"

"Well, have a seat on that park bench, and I'll tell you all about it. Well, not all about it; just what I've got right now."

"Alrightie."

"With the choice of hearing good news or bad news first, I'm afraid I'll have to say the bad news first. Charlotte,…" Still depressed, he sighed.

"What's wrong? You can tell me anything."

"The night of Barbara's party, when Amelia, my sister, was riding home on a bus,…there was an accident. Thankfully, Amelia wasn't killed as she just has a broken leg and a few stitches, but…two of her friends along with a few other people died in the accident."

"Oh, no," Charlotte held her mouth with her cupped hands. "Poor Amelia. This must be so hard for her."

"Mm, yes. Yes, it is. Once my parents and I revealed the tragedy to her when we brought her home from the hospital, she cried all day. Even when I left to return to Northampton, she was still crying." He paused. "With World War II and accidents and such, I wish people didn't have to die of horrible cases like that."

"I bet anything everybody wishes that…well, except for the suicidal." She let out an airless chuckle. "Sadly, we have to die. It's all part of the circle of life. My parents and I learned that rule well when Joseph died." Silence filled the air for a minute or two. "So…what's the good news?"

"Wellll, where do I start?...Hmmm…oh, yes. My thoughts on people's death, even your brother's, has brought me to a solution. While I've helped the people in my life with little contraptions and inventions, I'm taking a big step in my works. Charlotte Campbell, I'm determined to help the world!"

"Alright!" She responded, unsure of what to think.

"I haven't figured it all out yet, but think about it, Charlotte. Just think about it! People will soon walk out of accidents, battlefields, natural disasters, and peril with little injury. By da Vinci's scissors, just imagining it makes me ecstatic."

"That's wonderful. With me seeing what you've done so far, I believe you can do it. If vaccines for small pox and TB and electricity can make life better, I'm sure this will succeed by far."

"Again, thank you so very much, Charlotte. Is there anything you wanted to say?"

Charlotte gulped…here we go. "Jeff, there is something I want to say….that that night at Barbara's party was one of the happiest nights of my life. I don't think I'll ever regret your decision to stay." She turned her head down toward her left. "You'll have to forgive me, but I'm not myself today."

"Why not?" She closed her eyes and leaned her head against her fingers, quietly hyperventilating. "Charlotte, what's the matter? You can tell me anything."

Anything. You can tell me anything repeated in her head continuously. No, no, I can't. She thought. She finally mustered the courage to look him in the eye and say something.

"Jeff," She said with a cracked voice. "I'm not who you think I am."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand."

"At this moment, you won't." How was she going to do this? She wanted to spare him of the shock and the disappointment, yet she had to destroy the mystery she had brought upon him. Wiping away tears and swallowing what she could of the lump in her throat, she took in a deep breath. The next thing she knew a set of fingers delicately touched her chin and gently turned her face toward his.

"It's alright." He whispered, returning his hand to his lap. "You can tell me anything."

"Really? Anything?" He nodded his head. She sadly smiled. "If you find out what I really am, I don't know what your response will be…I mean, I'm no slut; I haven't made love with anybody. I'm not a jailbird; I've never broken laws. And so on and so forth. Knowing you and what you stand for, I know yet don't know how this will affect our friendship."

I don't care what the consequences are. She thought inside. I'm not going to run away from this. I am not going to run.

"Jeffrey, I must confess something. While I'm someone different from what I've said, I will say this: that anything about my life, the past and present, has never been a lie. And I will never lie to you.

"I am British…but not completely; only half-British." Charlotte glanced up to get a brief look at Jeffrey's slightly surprised expression. "While I came from Hatfield to attend classes at Northampton, I came from a small town in Pennsylvania, America, to take care of my widowed grandmother who lives here in England.

"I'm British by my mother. She emigrated from England to America shortly after World War I and there met my father, an…American…, and married him." She paused and stared for a few seconds at his astonished face, facing the ground away from her as in disgust.

"Jeffrey, I'm sorry to shock like this. I didn't do this for you but for my classmates. I was afraid of being misplaced because of my nationality and me being so different.

A tear spilt down her face. Before turning around and walking away, she looked at him at what was probably that one last time.

"…I'm sorry…

"…I hope you can forgive me…"

What now? Sorry yet not sorry that I have to leave you kids with a cliffie. On killing off two girls, I'm horrible, I know.