22 March 1980
 Kenosha, Wisconsin
 Kenosha Psychiatric Hospital

.

Jackie sat on the plush brown leather sofa in Dr Ridge's office and twiddled her thumbs in uncomfortable silence. She had only come to the hospital to book an appointment, but the psychiatrist had insisted on speaking with Jackie first—'getting a feel' for her was what she called it.

Dr Ridge wasn't quite what Jackie had envisioned. She seemed less clinical than Dr Keeton and far more social yet distinctly reserved. The doctor herself appeared to be in her early-to-mid forties but had that youthful glow to her that came with healthy, plump cheeks. Jackie was sure the woman could pass for thirty-five or maybe even younger if not for the bold silver streak in her fine, raven-black hair. Yet the silver-grey line that swept along her right temple into an elegant French twist suited her ivory complexion, as did her attire.

She wore fashionable dress trousers and a white silk off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. Her face was pale, almost porcelain-like, and her eyes were deep azure and intelligent. On her slender, upturned nose rested a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, which she peered through at Jackie with a keen interest.

"So, Jackie, what's been keeping you busy these days?"

"It's Ruby," corrected Jackie, instantly regretting the correction the moment it came out of her mouth.

Now the doctor was going to ask her why she wanted to call herself Ruby and how that made her feel and all that bullshit. But the anticipated questions never came. Instead, Dr Ridge just nodded as though this wasn't the slightest bit abnormal.

"Okay, Ruby—what have you been up to since your return to Point Place?"

"Nothing much."

The truth was that Jackie spent most of her time reading or going on afternoon walks around town, making sure to avoid crowded places. She had been flagged down too many times and asked too many questions that she couldn't answer. While the constant attention left her feeling frustrated and uncomfortable, Jackie just couldn't keep herself locked indoors. She had to roam freely.

"Just reading and such."

"What do you like to read?"

"Pretty much anything." She shrugged. "I enjoy short stories and poetry the most."

"Oh, we could spend a whole session talking about books." Dr Ridge laughed. It was a pleasant sound, almost bell-like. "Do you ever feel restless at home?"

Home? Was it really home? "The Formans have made appointments for me for the next couple of weeks—with lawyers and doctors and such." She rubbed the back of her neck. "So I guess I'll be busy soon."

"That sounds productive." Dr Ridge opened the manila folder that was resting on her lap. "I see here in your medical files that your father's side of the family has a history of heart disease." She closed the folder and her voice softened. "Are you worried at all?"

Another shrug. "No, I don't really think about it."

"Is there anything particular on your mind, then—anything you do worry about?"

"I have a roof over my head and financial security for the rest of my life. What do I have to worry about?" Jackie lied. "Theoretically, I can do almost whatever I want."

The Formans had put a bunch of money in her account, and she had secretly stashed a sizeable amount in her sock drawer. Just in case, she had told herself. In case of what, she didn't know, or at least she didn't want to admit to knowing.

"And what is it that you want to do?"

"I don't know yet."

"That's understandable," said Dr Ridge. "Most young people don't know what they want to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting forty-year-olds I know still don't." Dr Ridge smiled encouragingly. "You have lots of time, Ruby."

"Time, yeah..." Jackie trailed off. It helped to know one's past when deciding what one wanted to do with one's future.

"Do you feel like you don't have much time?"

"No, I just don't feel like I'm in control of it." Jackie shifted uncomfortably. "But I guess no one's really in control, right?" Dr Ridge nodded, and Jackie let out a protracted sigh and stood up. She suddenly felt like moving again. "Look, uhm, I thought our session didn't start until next week."

Dr Ridge nodded apologetically and rose with Jackie. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I just had to ask you a few questions." She set Jackie's folder on her desk. "I must admit that I'm excited to work with you, Ruby."

"Excited?"

"Yes, I've never worked with an amnesia patient before."

"Oh?"

Great. Jackie folded her arms beneath her breasts and tried hard not to openly roll her eyes. She was just some psycho-neurobiology project for the good doctor here. Were all psychiatrists like this? Jackie would avoid them all if she could, but she did need a refill on her Percocet prescription and maybe a more potent dose of sleeping pills. She hadn't been sleeping well—or at all, really—since she came to Point Place. Initially, she blamed this on the fact that she was at a new place and it was all disorienting for her, but then all places were new to her now thanks to her amnesia.

"Listen, Dr Ridge—"

"Please, call me Siobhán."

"Yeah, I won't be calling you that." Jackie inwardly winced at the snarkiness of her tone. Perhaps that wasn't entirely fair of her since she was making the doctor call her Ruby. But then she was paying the psychiatrist to pick apart her brain when she really didn't want that. Siobhán would just have to deal with it. "I just don't feel like talking right now."

"I understand, Ruby, and I apologise if I came off as overly excited." Dr Ridge's tone seemed genuine enough, causing Jackie to relax and reconsider her earlier assessment. "It's not that I see you as a puzzle or an experiment but someone I can learn from and maybe help. You see, I'm also a neurologist. My speciality is anxiety disorders, specifically post-traumatic stress."

"Post-traumatic stress?"

"It's an anxiety disorder triggered by witnessing or experiencing a traumatic event," explained the doctor. "Instead of immediately coping with the event, sometimes the individual doesn't adjust and the symptoms worsen, disrupting their daily life." Dr Ridge leaned against her desk. "It's a quite common condition among war veterans. It was initially termed 'shell-shock' during the First World War. Only very recently was it recognised as a legitimate disorder."

"I see," said Jackie, completely disinterested. "Thanks for the lesson."

Dr Ridge chuckled richly. "Sorry, sometimes I get carried away with explanations and forget how boring they can be." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled; it was almost pleasant. "Essentially, I study how trauma affects an individual's memory. But, please, don't think I only want to treat you to further my studies."

"Only ?"

"I like to be honest with my patients, Ruby. How else can I expect them to be honest with me?" The doctor pushed off from the desk and took a step towards Jackie. "I just want to be upfront with you, but at the same time, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. If you can't trust me, then I can't help you."

"Yeah, I get it." Jackie exhaled sharply while rubbing the back of her neck, and Dr Ridge practically beamed.

"So, how does next Wednesday sound? 2:30 PM?"

"Good—" Jackie shrugged "—I guess."

Shortly thereafter, Jackie left Dr Ridge's office, booking an appointment with the receptionist. She slipped on her coat and exited the building, drawing an icy breath of air into her lungs. It was good to get away from the stifling crowd.

Tonguing the inside of her cheek, Jackie glanced down at her watch for the time. Donna had given her the timepiece as a gift when she had been admitted into Sacred Heart. Jackie had quickly discovered that she didn't like watches. Maybe it was because she didn't like being constrained by time. Regardless of her feelings towards watches, it was still the most convenient means to tell time.

Eric would be there in the next few minutes to take her back to the Formans. She could wait inside where it was warm, but she really didn't want to sit with the families and the single professionals and stare at the tasteless artwork. Plus, she felt a migraine coming on. The walls of her skull felt like they were swelling and contracting. She winced, bringing her fingertips to her forehead.

Taking her pills out of her pocket, Jackie popped a few in her mouth and swallowed them dry. She had forgot to ask Dr Ridge for a refill. She'd have to ask on Wednesday. Yet another task for her to schedule next week, along with other doctors' and lawyers' appointments. When was it all going to end? And when was she going to have a say in the matter?

Jackie knew the Formans meant well, but sometimes it was just a little too much. Everyone seemed to expect so much from her—to get her life together, to remember her past. But she didn't have her act together. She didn't have her memories back and she didn't know if she ever would. She didn't know if she even wanted them back.

All too often these days, she felt like she was suffocating. The walls were closing around her, and she had to smile grimly at the irony. She had so desperately wanted to escape the hospital walls but had only found herself behind yet another set of walls, another prison.

"It'll get better soon," she told herself, as though saying it aloud would make it real. "I just need to get my memories back."

A small part of her questioned whether that would truly help.

⋆ 𖤓 ⋆

Hyde was in the basement watching Little House on the Prairie more intently than he normally would have been when Jackie came down the stairs and flopped on the sofa beside him.

"Hey," she breathed, bringing her feet up to rest on the table.

He grunted a similar greeting, shuffling over a bit so their thighs weren't touching but trying not to be obvious about it. Jackie, however, didn't seem to notice or care, sinking back into the sofa like it was devouring her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Hyde was about to respond with an 'Uh, I live here?' when she waved a hand at him. "Ah, I didn't mean it like that; it's just—shouldn't you be at the store?"

Yes, technically, he should have been. It was a Saturday afternoon, and he had given both Leo and Eric the day off.

"Angie's remodelling the place with some new '80s disco-pop-whatever crap." He crossed his arms over his chest in disgust. "I told her if she wanted to do that, then she could watch the store herself for the day."

"Angie?"

"My sister."

"Oh." Her brow furrowed in thought. "Why are you letting your sister do stuff to your store?"

"Eh." He shrugged. "She's got some good ideas, and I wanna give her the benefit of the doubt."

"That's nice of you."

"Yeah, I'm a prince." A prince who'd tear down any disco or soft rock crap he disapproved of the next day.

Hyde couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy at the thought. Here he was trying with his half-sister, who didn't share the same interests in music or business that he did, but he couldn't bring himself to come half-way with Jackie—a Jackie who no longer had any emotional ties with him whatsoever, past or present.

"So, how did your shopping trip with Donna go?" he asked, deciding to change the topic. He didn't see any shopping bags on her, which was surprising. Maybe she had already put them away upstairs.

"Exhausting," she moaned, sinking back down into the sofa to emphasise her fatigue. "She expected me to pick out the perfect outfit for her, but I only have so much to work with, y'know? I'm not a miracle worker." She shrugged. "Besides, old Jackie might've been some sort of fashionista guru, but Ruby here is not."

"Ruby?"

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but she quickly blanked her features and dismissed his question. "Never mind. It's just an expression."

Hyde grunted. An expression from where and in what world? Something wasn't quite right here.

"Ugh, I just rather we had gone somewhere else." Jackie brought both hands up to rub at her temples. "I hate that mall."

Jackie hates the mall? Hyde thought with a frown. Since when?

He had assumed all girls loved the mall—well, except maybe Donna, who was like one of the guys. Jackie, regardless of her amnesia, still dressed like Jackie and took pains with her appearance like Jackie—or at least he assumed so since she looked perfectly coiffed at the moment. But upon closer inspection, her eyes did look tired and a little sunken, and her face was decidedly pale.

"Too many people there know me," she said, and clarity finally struck home.

"Yeah, that must be uncomfortable."

"It's annoying is what it is."

Hyde grunted in sympathy. He forgot that being back in Point Place would mean a lot of people would still expect Jackie to know who they were. And those who knew about the accident would be naturally curious. He couldn't imagine the kind of hell Jackie went through on a daily basis, answering the same annoying questions repeatedly like, 'Do you remember who I am? How are you doing? Do you think you'll get your memories back?' If it were him, he probably would have drop-kicked them all.

"Ugh, and now I have a migraine." Jackie winced, looking even paler than before, and stood up. "I'm gonna go lie down. Have a good one, Hyde."

He nodded and watched her go, letting the way she said his surname wash over him like a bitter aftertaste. It just didn't seem right coming from her mouth, but he wasn't about to correct her. Donna had been right, in her own annoyingly passive-aggressive way. He had to stop comparing the new Jackie to the old one and start regarding this Jackie as a new person in his life, a person who just so happened to be wearing his ex-girlfriend's face.

While Hyde understood the logic behind Donna's argument that they could start over fresh as friends, he simply didn't want to be friends with Jackie. Not because of that bullshit excuse about them never being friends, but because it was damn near impossible to go from lovers to friends. Donna had no idea what it was like. She had been friends with Forman first; there was a going-back-to. Jackie and Hyde never have that.

You're her friend or you're nothing.

He ground his teeth in annoyance. Damn women and their ultimatums. He didn't do well with them or being backed into a corner. Ultimatums implied he had done or was about to do something wrong and that he wasn't about to reach a reasonable conclusion on his own. Ultimatums meant submit or be abandoned, and he'd rather do the abandoning first. He'd rather get hurt on his own terms.

One of the biggest issues he and Jackie ever had was about control and who had it. They had both wanted to be with each other despite their arguments to the contrary, but Jackie had always wanted more. She wanted everything right then and there. She had to have the last say and be in control. Hyde knew it was because she had so very little of it growing up. Deep down, what she really wanted was security.

What hurt Hyde was that he thought he had done right by Jackie, or at least as admirably as possible. But it always felt like it was never enough—he was never enough. He was constantly being told what to do or how to feel, which led to running and avoidance. Then that led to screaming matches and tears that could have been avoided.

But this ultimatum from Donna wasn't about control or insecurities or having the upper hand in a relationship. It was about doing what was best for Jackie, not him and Jackie. Jackie, period. And for all her persistent noisiness, Donna had a point. Hyde had to make a choice: to actually try to be Jackie's friend, regardless of their past and the potential pain it would incite, or cut off all ties entirely.

He knew which choice would hurt Jackie less. He knew what he should probably do, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

⋆ 𖤓 ⋆

When sleep finally came, it was full of dreams. Jackie's mind was a blackness bordering on eternity, a space with no light and where no sounds echoed. She was on the edge of that space, reaching out towards nothing, to touch what she didn't know. Maybe she was meant to stop something, to prevent it from coming out, but the effort was futile.

The hand that had met nothing suddenly felt flesh—warm, soft and yielding. Then, there was a flash of colour, a sudden blur of movement. A figure came into focus, and she saw him as clearly as day. The breeze tousled the soft curls of his hair. His blue eyes were hidden behind tinted amber glass. The hard line of his cleft jaw was set tightly in nervous apprehension.

He was waiting.

.

"All right, look—******, do you want to be with me?"

He shrugged non-committally.

"No-no, a shrug's not gonna cut it. *****, I need you to say something."

She was so frustrated she wanted to scream. But deep down, she knew he loved her and wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. She just had to make the first move, like always.

"All right, look, I'll even go first. ******, I want to be with you." She motioned for him to continue, "And you..."

"I... Can you hang on a second?" He turned to face Michael and frogged him hard in the chest. "Would you get outta here?"

"Oww! If you want me to leave, all you have to do is say please."

"Fine." He punched Michael even harder. "Please."

"That's better!"

Michael left, and ***** turned back to her with a sigh. "Jackie, I do wanna be with you."

She could feel the corners of her mouth curl up into a smile of pure, unadulterated bliss and victory. With her hands behind her back, she cocked her head to the side and took a happy step forwards.

"Because you love—"

"Don't push it," he interrupted, but his eyes and mouth had softened into a barely perceptible smile.

She smiled, too, saying a quick, "Okay," before going in for the kiss.

His lips met hers with the heady heat of remembrance, and her arms entwined around his neck. His hands went to her shoulders first, as if to make sure she was really there, really his. His broad palms slid down her back, pulling her close as she speared her fingers through his soft hair.

He turned his head and deepened the kiss. She sighed into his mouth, her fingers grasping at the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. It was so perfect. It was like coming home.

.

But then everything suddenly went black again, and Jackie was left alone with her thoughts.

*****? Who's *****?

Though her addled dream-state could only begin to guess at the significance, could only fumble with rationalisations and portents in this abstract world, a voice suddenly called out:

You're not me. You're living a lie. You think they care, but they don't. You think he won't hurt you, but he will. He always does. And you will be alone again.

The silence of space filled her mind, and just as suddenly, her world began shifting, shifting and colliding into thoughts and patterns she couldn't describe. It was a signal, ushering her towards something new and terrifying.

The images splintered and broke apart. An unlocked memory spun out and retreated inwards and back unto itself. She was left wondering how many more were to come and go. But for now, her world was shifting, spinning like a ball of glass in the void, and that voice not unlike her own was the first fragile crack in the null.

⋆ 𖤓 ⋆

Jackie stumbled out of the bathroom, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. She was light-headed and sore as if she had been wrestling with her sheets the entire time she had been sleeping—and the sheets had won.

While she didn't feel all that rested, her migraine had thankfully been reduced to a dull ache. Her stomach gurgled hungrily and she groaned, bringing a hand to her rumbling midsection. Maybe some food lining her belly would lift this feeling of discomfort. So, after a series of jaw-cracking yawns, Jackie made her way down the stairs into the living room.

Eric was seated on the sofa, watching Donahue on the coloured TV. He glanced up at the sound of Jackie coming down the stairs and did a double-take when he saw the usually immaculately dressed and coiffed brunette sporting a pair of blue and white flannel pyjamas. Her face was pale, her eyes dark and sunken, and her raven-coloured hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail.

"You look—good ." He stressed the adjective, and she glared at him with tired eyes.

"Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, taking the seat next to him. "Better than yesterday."

"You mean Saturday?"

She blinked at him, nonplussed. "Why, what day is it?"

"Monday."

"Monday? Huh." She was supposed to visit her father today. Had she really slept that long? She didn't remember waking up at night or even dreaming, although she was sure she had done both.

"Yeah, Mom wanted to get you to eat, but you were dead to the world." He picked up the clicker and turned down the volume. "You okay?"

She rubbed at the tender muscle on her neck with a sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just these migraines, and I haven't been sleeping well since I got here." When he looked concerned, she shrugged it off and dropped her hand. "Insomnia's a bitch."

He nodded slowly. "Well, you do look more rested."

She certainly didn't feel it but, then again, she did feel better than she had on Saturday. What she really needed to do was wake herself up. She brought her shoulders back, making the blades touch, and stood to her feet. "Well, I'm gonna take a shower."

Just then, Mrs Forman came bounding out of the kitchen, a pristine white apron tied around her waist. "Oh good, Jackie, you're up. I was worried I was going to have to force-feed you." She tittered jovially before a motherly expression stole her features. She put a hand on Jackie's forehead. "How's your head? Do you have a fever? Are you hungry?"

"Uh, not especially hungry," said Jackie, trying to field at least one question before noting the almost hurtful look in the older woman's eyes. "But I really could eat—it'll probably make my head feel a lot better." Mrs Forman smiled, and Jackie hooked her thumb toward the stairs. "I'm just gonna take a quick shower, then come down for lunch."

After a long, hot shower, Jackie decided it would be best to skip drying her hair as Mrs Forman probably had lunch already set out on the kitchen table. With her hair still damp, Jackie quickly dressed herself in a pair of dark jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt she had found in her luggage. She jogged down the stairs to see Eric, Mrs Forman and a stranger seated in the living room.

"Jackie," said Kitty in a voice laced with concern.

The brunette immediately paused on the landing. She noted the tall, bronzed woman seated next to Mrs Forman and frowned.

"Hello, Jackie," said the tanned woman, who turned towards Jackie with a big smile.

Something about the beautiful woman was off-setting and read insincere to Jackie. She was too tan, too pretty, too perfect—like an older woman who took great pains to look and act much younger than she was.

"Hi," Jackie began cautiously, taking the final step off the landing. She glanced over at Eric, who was seated in the green chair. His expression mirrored his mother's, that 'uncomfortable with the situation' look.

"Don't you recognise me?"

Jackie's brow knit together in annoyance. Was this woman an idiot or something? "Uh, no?"

Surely Eric and Mrs Forman had told this Amazon of a woman about her amnesia. But if she knew, she didn't let on or take offence to Jackie's tone. Instead, she just ploughed onwards.

"I'm your mother!" The woman stood up with her arms opened wide as if this was a surprise birthday party, and Jackie was the flummoxed birthday girl. "Pam Burkhart!"

"I see," said Jackie, circling the woman, who still had her arms open with wariness. How was this tall woman her mother? Granted, the woman was gorgeous, but Jackie couldn't see herself in her at all.

"You see?" repeated Pam with a giggle and wiggle of her hips, opening her arms even wider. "Oh, get over here and give your mother a hug."

Jackie eyed her mother like she had just suggested a disgusting notion, like pig wrestling, and kept standing right where she was. She wasn't going to hug this woman, not as Ruby. Ruby didn't hug. Ruby didn't trust this bronze statuesque woman standing before her with her too-big-for-her-mouth smile. It was like she wanted to devour her.

"Would you like something to drink, Pam?" Mrs Forman suggested, noticing Jackie's obvious discomfort.

Pam finally dropped her arms and turned towards Kitty with a bright smile. "Can you make a piña colada?"

"I can pour you some rum," said Kitty with a laugh, walking over to the bar. "Might pour myself some too." Another nervous, tittery laugh.

"Why are you here?" Jackie asked Pam, folding her arms beneath her breasts. "Why here, why now?"

"What kind of question is that? I'm your mother. Isn't a mother allowed to see her child?" Pam put a hand on her heart as if wounded. "Besides, my baby needs me."

"She needed you a month ago," Kitty muttered under her breath, taking a big gulp of the rum meant for Pam with a hiss. She wasn't much for rum, but it was convenient and strong.

"What was that, Kitty?"

"Oh, nothing!" Mrs Forman sang, taking another sip and muttering dark words into her drink.

Pam shrugged it off and turned back to her daughter. "I wanted to see how you were doing, sweetie."

"I'm fine," said Jackie through gritted teeth. She had no idea why she felt so angry at this moment. "If you were that concerned, you could have called—say, a month ago."

Pam shook her head as though she were dealing with an unruly child. She raised Jackie's head, running her fingers along her daughter's damp curls. "I'm sorry. I would have come sooner, but I had a pressing engagement."

"With what?" asked Eric. "A conga line?"

He had been silent up to that point, almost unnoticeable in the room, and Jackie had to struggle not to laugh outright.

"So how long will you be staying in town, Pam?" asked Mrs Forman, trying to ease the tension in the room, as well as fish for information. "And where will you be staying?"

"I'm here for as long as my baby needs me," Pam cooed, ignoring Kitty's angry stare. "I figured I'd get a house for me and Jackie to stay in."

"Really now?" Kitty was already pouring herself another drink, Pam's piña colada entirely forgotten. "With what money, Pam?"

Pam clucked her tongue disapprovingly and ignored Mrs Forman, turning back to Jackie like she was a new Barbie doll for her to play with. "My daughter shouldn't have to live here. She has enough money to buy a place of her own." She wiped invisible lint off Jackie's shoulder and smiled. "Of course I'll help with the arrangements and get her settled."

"Don't talk as if I'm not in the room," said Jackie icily, stepping back and away from her mother.

How could this woman look her in the eye and still treat her like she wasn't even there, like she wasn't even real?

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jackie. Apparently this little accident of yours has made you quite sensitive." Pam shook her head with the burdened sigh of the understanding. "And has also resulted in quite the lapse of fashion judgement." She frowned, motioning to the black band tee. "Honestly, Jackie—you're wearing a t-shirt?"

"So you want me to buy you a house—is that it?" Jackie ignored the desultory conversation and got straight to the heart of the matter. Her mother wanted something from her. Money.

"No, us a house," Pam clarified. "I'm just going to help you settle in. We can do each other's hair and pick out a new wardrobe for you. It'll give us some mother-daughter bonding time." The tall woman curved her well-manicured fingers along Jackie's jaw. "You might not remember this, but we were very close."

Mrs Forman openly snorted into her drink, and Eric palmed his face with a disgusted sigh. Pam didn't seem to notice either, but Jackie had.

Might not remember? Right.

"Kitty, could you have your strapping young son take my bags upstairs?" ordered Pam, as though this were the most natural thing for her to do in someone else's home. "Jackie, could you be a dear and help him while I have a chat with Mrs Forman?"

Jackie spared a glance in Kitty's direction, and the motherly woman sighed, setting down her drink and nodding silently to her son. "Eric, take Mrs Burkhart's bags into Jackie's room for now. Jackie—" her soft eyes were full of pity "—you go with him for a bit, hun. I'll call you as soon as your mother and I are done talking."

Kitty stepped out from behind the bar and made a beeline for the kitchen with Pam gracefully following. Neither Jackie nor Eric bothered to make a move for Pam's suitcases. Instead, both briefly exchanged glances before tip-toeing towards the kitchen door the moment it stopped swinging. Eric stood on the left side of the door while Jackie bent over on the right. Their mothers' voices were hushed but clear enough to make out.

"So, when did you find out about the trust fund?"

"Jack told me last week... I hear you and Red are the executors."

"We have Jackie meeting with lawyers and bankers this week to decide what she wants to do with the money."

"That's good. So the money has already been transferred to her?"

"Some of it, yes." There was a distinct pause followed by an accusation, "What are you doing here, Pam?"

"I don't think I like your tone, Kitty. I'm here for my daughter, of course."

"You should have been here over a month ago when your daughter was in the hospital!"

"Kitty, I appreciate you and Red helping out with my Jackie. But now that I'm back I plan on caring for her myself."

"You mean you plan on taking her money? You've never been here for that girl when she needed you the most. Instead, you go off gallivanting God knows where with God knows who and only come back when your daughter has something you want."

"Kitty, she is my daughter, not yours. And none of this is no longer any of your business or concern."

Jackie pulled back, not wanting to hear another word. She felt sick to her stomach. This was her mother? Some greedy, self-centred, money-hungry witch? She turned around and deliberately walked to the other side of the room.

"Jackie?" Eric whispered, turning towards her.

Jackie shook her head. She was already putting on her boots before grabbing her navy pea jacket from the coat rack and opening the front door wide.

"I'm going out for a walk."

And with the soft click of the door shutting behind her, Jackie was gone.

⋆ 𖤓 ⋆

Jackie didn't want to go back inside. She didn't want to talk with her 'mother'. There was no place for her in Pam's fantasy world. There was no place for her anywhere, except in this driveway and on this porch with the cold, wet snow underneath her backside.

She stood up and began pacing the length of the driveway with her hands in her pockets, watching her boots mark prints in the browning snow. Her mother claimed they were close, but she wasn't inclined to believe her. What mother would stay out of the country when her daughter was in a coma but hopped on the next flight back to the States when she discovered that said daughter was now in possession of a sizeable trust fund? A mother who was greedy for money, that's who.

As alone as Jackie had felt before, now she felt like an expendable asset. Everyone seemed to want something from her—her memories, her money, some kind of connection that wasn't there—but she had nothing left to give and no ties to keep her here any longer.

Making her way over to the basement entrance, Jackie sat on the top step. She hoped to hide for a bit or be met with a miraculous solution to her problems. Instead, she ended up sitting there until her backside went numb, hitting her thighs with her fists to pass the time.

Her face felt like it had shattered into pieces and she couldn't keep it straight. The feeling was indescribable, something she couldn't identify or relate. 'I want—I want—I want' was on a loop in her head, but just what this actual want was, she didn't know, except that she wanted to escape.

After a few minutes, the door to the basement opened. Jackie glanced down quickly, her hands on the steps, ready to push herself off and run, when she saw that it was only Eric. He stood still at the bottom of the landing. His eyes widened momentarily in surprise at the sight of her before he served her with a good-natured smile.

"Hey, we were getting worried about you." He bounded up the stairs and took the seat next to her. "Thought I might have to organise a search party."

Jackie smiled thinly, folding her hands and placing them on her lap. She honestly didn't believe anyone was all that worried, least of all her mother, and she really didn't care. But at least Eric was acting as though he was concerned.

"Jackie, are you okay?"

She thought about the question for a moment. Was she? Nothing had been right since she first woke up, and returning to Point Place so soon only seemed to exacerbate her unease.

She knew what she wanted to do but was somewhat afraid to do it. Her biggest obstacle right now was executing her plan. What she needed was a willing participant, someone who had no real opinion on her comings and goings and who would help her without question.

She glanced over at Eric. "I need you to do me a favour."

⋆ 𖤓 ⋆

They had been driving for five minutes before Jackie finally spoke, "I'm surprised you were able to sneak into my room, pack my stuff and leave without anyone noticing."

"Well, I am a ninja," replied Eric all too seriously, and Jackie snorted.

"Yeah, sure you are."

In truth, Eric's mother had gone back into the kitchen to bake away her anger and worry. Only Pam had been in the living room to see him go, seated on the green chair as if it were her throne.

"When Pam asked me where I was going, I just said I was going to keep you company."

"And what did she say?"

"Hurry back."

"Yeah, hurry back with her meal ticket," muttered Jackie, yet there was no detectable bitterness in her tone.

Still, Eric felt bad for her.

"Look, Jackie, I'm really sorry about your mom."

She waved him off. "Eh, it's okay. I don't remember anything about her anyway, and I'm glad I don't. Besides, it's not like I have to deal with her anymore, right?"

He nodded slowly, stealing glances at Jackie from the corner of his eye. He had to admit that she had quite the poker face. He couldn't tell if she was really upset or not. And while she might not have had a connection with her mother anymore, he was sure that the feeling of being hurt and betrayed was still there somewhere, hidden deep down underneath the surface, along with all her locked memories.

A few minutes later, Eric pulled the Vista Cruiser into the bus station and the conversation lulled. Finding a spot to park, he kept the motor running for a bit—not just to keep the heater on but to give Jackie a chance to change her mind. He wasn't going to stop her—she had asked him for a favour—but he wouldn't go out of his way to encourage her either.

"Thank you for doing this," said Jackie quietly. "I really appreciate you not asking me why I wanted to leave the way I did."

He shrugged, eventually turning off the ignition. "Hey, sometimes you have to burn a few bridges to keep the crazies from following you, am I right?"

She chortled softly, and he smiled tightly. A part of him wanted to ask her why, but a more significant part didn't want to betray the trust she had so willingly bestowed upon him. So Eric did something he normally didn't do: he kept his trap shut.

"Was that a rhetorical question?" Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Or was the old 'devil' me known to literally burn down bridges?"

"Naw, your hellfire was figurative for the most part," he said. "But you did know your way around a back-handed compliment."

"Hmm, that's good to know," she said without much mirth, and he instantly regretted the quip the moment it passed his lips. Sometimes he forgot she wasn't the same Jackie he once knew, even though she seemed to take his jokes a lot better than the old one had.

He exited the car and walked over to the passenger's side, opening the door with a flourish. "And you should also know that sarcasm is but one of the services I provide, m'lady." He offered her his hand and a warm, apologetic smile. "The other, obviously, is being the best damn personal chauffeur in all of Point Place."

Jackie laughed and took his hand before stepping out of the Vista Cruiser. "And I appreciate both services, really."

Eric smiled, glad that he had recovered well enough. He grabbed the black duffel bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before motioning to Jackie. "You got enough money?"

She nodded and patted the rolled-up bills in her pocket—the ones he had fetched for her from her sock drawer. The two of them then made their way over to the ticket booth and she paid the fee before taking the duffel bag from Eric, looping the strap over her shoulder.

He accompanied her to the platform, where they both waited. The bus was scheduled to arrive in the next five minutes and he refused to leave her side until he saw her safely on board.

"So, why me?" he asked after a moment of silence. Only a few other people were waiting around nearby. "Why did you ask me to take you here?"

"Convenience mainly." Jackie shrugged. "You were the only one who came to look for me, and it's not like I could have asked your mother. She would have probably tried to talk me out of it. She's very convincing."

Eric nodded emphatically. "It's the baked goods and the honed art of motherly guilt-tripping."

"Yeah, well, whatever it is, it works really well." Jackie smiled tightly. "But, really, it's not like I had a lot of volunteers and, even if others were around, I wouldn't have asked them."

Eric raised his eyebrows in surprise. Did she trust him more than the others? More than Donna? More than Hyde, the only one of the gang she had bothered forming a tenuous bond with?

"Donna and Fez would have tried to stop me. Kelso, I don't particularly feel safe with behind the wheel of a car. He'd either drive me into another tree or try to feel me up, or both. And Hyde—" she shrugged indifferently "—well, I'm still not sure if he likes me all that much, so I don't see him doing me favours any time soon."

Eric thrust his hands into his pockets. "Hyde's—well, Hyde's complicated."

"I'll bet," Jackie agreed humourlessly, lightly elbowing him in the ribs. "As for you, you seem like the pushover type."

"You would not be incorrect."

"But the one thing I don't get is why you're not trying to stop me." At Eric's odd look, Jackie immediately held up her hands. "Don't get me wrong. This isn't a cry for help or anything like that. I'm not saying this to get you to stop me. I just—" she let out a protracted sigh "—you also seem like the type who's easily cowed by his girlfriend. Isn't Donna gonna give you the third-degree when you come back without me?"

"Oh, Donna's going to give me third-degree burns, and my mother might disown me, and Fez will probably cry and throw candy at me, but..." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "I kinda understand what you're going through. Not the amnesia part—I have my memory intact, unfortunately—but I understand the desire to go off on your own and discover yourself."

"Yeah." Her shoulders instantly relaxed. "You went to Africa, didn't you? Your mother told me on one of her visits." She glanced up at him with a look he had never seen in Jackie's eyes before. Was it respect? "That takes a lot of courage."

Eric suddenly felt very self-conscious and brought a hand to the back of his neck. This new honest and 'nice' Jackie would take some getting used to. "Well, so is what you're doing right now."

"I don't know about that." She was looking down at her boots.

"No, seriously." He took a deep breath. "Look, you and I were never really friends, so I'm not saying any of this to get on your good side—but if I were in your shoes, I'd be terrified. But you, you're actually doing something about it; you're living your life. Going off on your own takes guts."

Jackie bit her lip contemplatively, and the two shared a moment of silence. The only background noise was the murmur of pedestrians walking by and the noise of the engines as buses lazily pulled onto the numbered platforms.

Eric wondered if he had overstepped his bounds with her or had said something too dramatic or too stupid. He did have a habit of putting his foot in his mouth, but Jackie hadn't rolled her eyes or told him to shut up. Instead, an appreciative smile surfaced on her lips and she nodded.

"Thanks, Eric."

"You're welcome, Jackie."

After another minute, Jackie's bus finally pulled into the terminal, and she handed the driver her ticket and luggage. She straightened her coat and smoothed down her dark hair before turning back to Eric, giving him a confident smile and a wave of goodbye.

"Jackie, hey, wait!" Eric jogged up to the platform, and she turned around to face him. He handed her a note. "Call us when you get to wherever you're going, okay?"

"Will do." She took the note with a smile and then gave him a mock salute. "See ya later, Kid."

Eric grinned and took a step back. "See you soon, Devil."

With that, Jackie Burkhart stepped onto the bus and turned her back to Point Place. She was off to start her own adventure and write a chapter in the new book that was her life. Eric couldn't have been any more envious or proud.

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