Newton, Kansas, January 18, 1996

Barbara left Wynter, and took a quick last look around at the others. Then she picked up the bag she had already stowed a few things into and hurried to rejoin Max and Susan.

When she entered the cabin, she found them talking quietly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything--" she smiled at them both. "You ready for the Arias express, yet?"

"We've been waiting on you," said Max, smiling in return. "Susan's a bit worried that you don't like it when she and I hug each other. Can you put her at ease, so we can get past it? I don't want to miss out on a hug just because she thinks she's stepping on your toes."

Barbara looked from Max to Susan, then setting her bag down walked over to them. "Is -that- all?" she said gently, taking Susan's hands in her own so that the other girl would have to look at her. "Susan, we've all got to be there for each other. So anytime you feel you need a hug--go right ahead. In fact..." she reached over and pulled Max in for a hug with one arm and Susan with the other, the end result being that all three ended up in a rather tight huddle not usually found outside of football field sidelines.

Of course, Max puts his arms around the two young ladies and gives them a hug of slightly increased friendliness. These two helped to save his life, and his gratitude and affection for them knew no bounds.

Standing, they picked up their light luggage (mainly a single duffel bag). "Other than that, I think we're ready to go." He looked at Susan inquiringly.

Susan nodded. "I think so, too..." she took a deep breath and made herself smile again hoping to reassure the other two.

"Let's go, then." Barbara led the way outside, and within a few moments found Arias sitting outside the cabin where Troi still rested, holding hands and talking quietly with Deirdre.

"So, you have a destination in mind?" the tall Otherworlder asked.

Max looked at Susan. "Go ahead, tell him where you want us to go."

Susan took a deep breath. She knew Arias was from some other world and hadn't been here that long. Would he even know...? "San Francisco," she said slowly. "that's in California, do you know where that is?"

"Yes ... but I am not certain if the one I know is the same as the one here." He scratches his head for a moment, thinking. "But then, no one would -want- to go to the one I am familiar with. Do you have a photograph of someplace specific."

Max pulls out a color print of a building. It is a school, it's image taken from a copy of Susan's yearbook he has obtained in the course of his research on her.

"I was going to bring out these school photos and try to jog your memory a bit, Susan," he said. "But I remember Arias saying that ..." He looks towards Arias. "...You -can- work from photographs, right?"

"Almost as easily as if I'd been there myself," the Otherworlder replied. Taking the photograph, he studies it for nearly a full minute before returning it. If you're certain you're ready?"

"-I- am," said Max. "Most definitely."

Susan nodded. "Let's get started." She reached for Max's hand and held it tightly. She wanted this, but at the same time, she was afraid of it, of what she might find out, what this might lead to.

Barbara took Susan's other hand and patted it, trying to reassure her.

Arias stood near them and looked at the picture. He held the image in his thoughts, and shifted reality around them.

* * *

West Covina High School, San Francisco, California...

They were standing roughly a hundred yards away from the fence surrounding the school.

Susan simply stood quietly, staring at the building.

Max's hand rested on her shoulder. "Let's not stay in one place too long. Arias, you should go before people notice."

Arias nodded, and vanished.

Barbara looked at Susan. "I guess our best bet is just try to blend in. No one here would know Max or I--and I could try to keep them from noticing you." she said to her, "Telepathically, I mean."

Susan nodded.

"You want to go -in-?" Max asked.

Susan shook her head, looking back and forth from Max to the building, around which could be seen several moving figures, teachers and students apparently going about their daily routines.

"I don't know." she whispered. "I keep thinking maybe if I see what it looks like -in- there, something will come back. Right now it's just a picture I saw in that book..." she looked at Max. Torn by indecision, she knew how risky it was to even come this close, but still...!

(This is not quite what I had in mind,) Max thought. Shifting the bag on his shoulder, he tried to imagine what it would be like. He had never actually been in a 'normal' school in his entire life.

"Okay," he said. "If we're going to do this, we may as well do it thoroughly. Looks like they're out for lunch or something. It's as good a time as ever to try it. Let's go."

The threesome walked towards the building, and entered it to find themselves in a long corridor, with numerous people most apparently students moving up and down it.

There were doorways every so often, apparently leading to classrooms, and in between these were banks of lockers some of which had students busily stuffing things into or pulling things out of them. Beyond the rooms and the crowd there was another set of doors, at the far end of the corridor.

"We're not going to be totally invisible," Barbara whispered, "there's too many minds here for me to manage that, but I can just make Susan seem to look different. No one here knows me, or you.." she said to Max.

Susan nodded, silently. She was just taking it all in, looking at the rooms, the faces of the students and teachers who passed them, wondering which of them might've known her. She knew she couldn't risk speaking to them, and yet she wanted to.

"We don't need that kind of guarding," said Max. "You should save your strength for later, in case we run into someone who doesn't like us. Just stay focused on Susan."

Max looked around himself, having never been inside a school of its like. It seemed much more crowded than he'd envisioned. Or perhaps it was because the students were between classes, and congregated in the corridors.

"I wonder if I can get a copy of the yearbook?"

He stopped by one of the classroom with a female teacher and looked in. Knocking, he opened the door to the room and said. "I'm sorry, but I'm a new transfer and I'm trying to find my art class. Would you know the room number? Some punk ripped off my schedule and I don't want to screw up too much my first day. And could you tell me where the office is?"

He assembled a mock schedule in his mind and held it, basing his curriculum on the books he'd seen the students carrying.

"The art classrooms are on the second floor," she replied. "in the 250 corridor. this is 130 you're in now. And the Guidance office would have the schedules, that's one corridor over in 150."

"Thank you very much," Max replied. "Sorry to have disturbed you."

Closing the door, Max led them upstairs and over a corridor to where the art room was. He watched Susan carefully, but kept an even more cautious eye on their surroundings. He wanted to see if she knew anything about where they were before he pointed out the room.

Susan walked slowly, just taking in everything. She looked at everyone and everything they passed, among them a display case in which were a number of trophies and photographs.

One particularly large one, surrounded by a wreath of flowers at its base, caught her eye. She stopped to look closely, and a moment later her hand went to her mouth, she let out a slight gasp. Barbara stepped closer and put her hand on Susan's arm. She looked to see what had startled Susan so..."Max...I think you'd better see this."

Max stepped over and looked into the case, although he could well imagine what picture with a wreath around it could startle her so much.

The picture was actually a photograph of a fortyish man, with dark hair and blue eyes. It was mounted on a metal surface which itself was backed by a polished wood plaque. On the metal surface beneath the picture it read

IN MEMORIAM

Jeffrey Thomas Harrison

Sept. 30, 1995

from the

West Covina High School PTSA

Barbara glanced to Max. She hadn't actually seen the pictures of Susan's relatives though she knew Max had gotten them and showed them to Susan. "Max--is that--I mean, was that...?"

Max nodded, and put a hand lightly on Susan's arm.

Susan closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and looked at Max. "I'll be all right. I just didn't expect--*this*, right here. I was worried about seeing some students or teachers I used to know..." she shook her head.

Max moved in close, but kept his eye on the people around them. "It's odd that they don't have one of the rest of the family here, too." He made his voice a bit quieter, but also made his shared sadness clear to her. "At least you already knew what had happened to him. We didn't walk in on this cold. You can't cry here. Let's leave, and find the more appropriate place ... unless you think you can handle staying here?"

She swallowed, then nodded. "I..we've come this far, I want to see this through. But I'm still not sure what this means. what's PTSA...and why is there one for him when I'm the one who went here...?"

"It's probably an acronym for some organization. Maybe 'Parent/Teacher/ Student Association', or something similar. I can always ask, but let's move on for now, we don't want to stay in one place too long."

Susan nodded, and let Barbara lead her away from the case.

They entered the corridor and saw a series of rooms and lockers, outwardly at least this corridor didn't look that different from the one they'd been in downstairs, though there was a definite odor here that hadn't been present elsewhere.

The one real difference is that there's some sort of artwork mounted on each door, some drawings, some paintings, of various types.

Susan walked slowly, staying close to Barbara. Something here seemed so familiar she knew this place she did...though the details remained stubbornly elusive, she was -sure- she remembered being in here though she couldn't have on her own said when.

"Isn't there any way we can get inside one of the rooms..." she whispered. "I..." she looked up and down the corridor. "Why...do I want to go...*there*?" she pointed at a room three doors down from where they stood, on the left. "There's something just out of reach, but that room's part of it..."

Barbara nodded, trying to help her keep calm. "That's probably where you spent most of your time in this area." She shook her head. "We've -got- to find a copy of the yearbook somehow..."

"There might be a copy of the yearbooks in the school library," Max suggested. "Although I'd bet any extras would be sold through the office."

"If this school's anything like the one I went to, they probably are. Though we had a classroom that was used by the student yearbook staff and you could get them there too." Barbara said.

Max replied, "I'm just guessing. I never went to a school like this."

He looked at the various works, slowly working his way down the corridor. He knew Susan's artistic style from seeing her drawings. He was looking for that at the same time he was reaching into his back pocket for his cards of master keys and lockpicks.

There was one drawing which seemed to be of that style. And looking closely you can see in a corner of the paper, in a small, boxed off area, was "S. Harrison 9/11/95" beneath that was a large gold star and in a different handwriting with red pen was a note "A+ -- best I've seen in a long time keep it up!"

"Hey," he said. "You're a celebrity. I -told- you you had talent."

Part of his mind was glad there didn't seem to be any rooms she -didn't- want to go into. She was an attractive girl, and there were a lot of sick individuals in the world. Some were Foster Parents, others were students, and others, unfortunately, were teachers.

(It's probably just my jaded past,) he told himself. (I'm sure that doesn't happen to most people. Besides, Susan had a family she could talk to.)

He stopped at the door Susan had indicated and tried to look inside. He then knocked. There was no answer.

When he tried the door, it wasn't locked. Looking in he saw a row of easels and drawing boards, some with papers on them some not, and tables with piles of pencils, erasers, chalk, etc.

"Well, I could -certainly- spend an hour or two here."

Waving them in, he picked up a few colored pencils and walked over to one of the drawing boards. His hand blurred as he drew a portrait of Susan standing at a drawing board, drawing a picture of him standing at a drawing board, drawing a picture of the three of them, their faces slightly changed. She looked studious as the artist, but smiling as the subject. Taking down the sheet, he rolled it up and handed it to Susan. The paper was still slightly warm from the friction of drawing, and that warmth made the colors blend smoothly together.

"Couldn't resist," he said. "Does this bring back any memories?"

Susan nodded. "It seems so familiar, all of this." she looked around the room. "Like it's just on the edge, in another moment I feel like it'll all come back. But the moment doesn't come." she whispered. "Still this is the closest I've felt so far, maybe like you and the Professor said, it'll just take time."

While he listened, he continued to draw, creating an image of the three of them together. He was standing between them with an arm around their waists. They were wearing warm colored dresses and he was sporting a sharp suit, like the ones they'd bought in Atlantic City. He drew them as he had seen them and had hoped to see them, beautiful and happy. Behind them in the drawing was a large paned window overlooking the San Francisco Bay at sunset. Rolling that one up, he gave it to Barbara.

Resharpening the pencils he'd used, he looked around the room to see if anything caught his eye.

He noticed several more posted examples of student artwork on the walls. One of these caught Max's eye, a drawing of a young man whom he recognized as Chuck Westlake. The box in the corner of this one read S. Harrison, 9/4/1995. This one carried a red-penned A :) after Susan's name and the date.

Max continues to look around the room, but doesn't appear to find anything of interest. He keeps walking by Chuck's picture to see if Susan recognizes it without prompting.

Barbara shot a look at Max after he'd passed the same group of pictures for the fifth consecutive time. She stepped over to him and in a low voice whispered "What's up? You've got that look on your face..."

"Look behind me. Recognize anyone?"

She did so, her eyes narrowing as she saw it. "I get it..." she glanced back at Susan. "Look at when this was, though. It couldn't have been that long before..." she shook her head. "And we haven't seen but these two pictures to show she was ever here at all. I still think we should try for the yearbook, though."

Susan, meanwhile, was standing in front of one of the easels staring at the paper there. She'd picked up a pencil and begun sketching but there was an odd look in her eyes, as if she had slipped into some sort of trance.

"Most of this is pretty boring. It looks like you made the best impression. You think maybe I should leave them something, just to see if they notice?"

"Like what?" Barbara asked, in a low voice to keep from disturbing Susan.

"I don't know. Maybe another group portrait? I think we make an interesting group. I could alter the faces a bit, make us a bit more generic."

He keeps an eye on Susan but keeps wandering.

"I wonder what the teacher would make of that," she found herself smiling slightly. "A drawing by no one she could identify."

"Maybe something in a nude? No... I want to keep some of my imagination to myself. Still, if I'm going to draw something, I should get to it. Go stand next to Susan and smile."

Max started drawing once Barbara had moved. He drew the two of them standing there, then drew himself in behind them. They all looked sufficiently different, but he made it as realistic as he could, spending several minutes on it.

Barbara came over to Susan and smiled in Max's direction, careful to not distract Susan as she did. Glancing quickly at the paper, she saw that two faces were taking shape. She bit her lip, trying not to make a sound, as she recognized one of them--as details began being drawn in--as being the man whose picture had been on that memorial plaque. The other was a woman, about the same age.

Susan suddenly stepped back and lowered her pencil. "That's how I keep seeing him. And her too. I just wish I could remember how I'm supposed to -feel- about them!"

Max stopped his drawing and looked at Susan. He left the pad where it was walked over to where the two of them were standing. Looking at the sketch, he then looked at her.

"That might be part of what's locked away within you, Susan. But you also have to consider the idea that those memories were destroyed. I'm not saying that they were, but they might have been. We -could- try to find out if there's anything of your family's in storage somewhere in the city."

Reaching out, he took her hand. "If those memories are there, we'll find -something- to shake them out of whatever's holding them down. I thought this might do it for you, at least a little. Did you see your drawing of Chuck?" He pointed it out to her, since she hadn't spotted it herself.

She walked over and looked, eyes widening slightly. "He said there'd been a few, but he couldn't find them all when he and his parents came to pack up things. This's probably why."

"We could try your house. I'm sure it's been sold, but looking at it from the outside might help, and ... well, if there's no one home...."

She shook her head. "Chuck said his father wanted to sell it but his mother wouldn't let him. It seems the house's been in the family a long time, she grew up there. He said there's someone supposed to be taking care of it."

"But I'm getting ahead of myself. We should finish up here and try to get a yearbook. Maybe you two should try the ladies' room while I check the office, then we can meet in the library. People sometimes hang out in the bathrooms and talk, and it might help you remember some of your friends."

Barbara stepped into the conversation at this. "That sounds like a good idea to me." she smiled.

"But if I've been gone this long--they might not even remember me around here." Susan said.

"I'm sure there's something." Barbara gave Susan's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I could even pretend to be a new student who'd seen your name around and wondered who you were, then talk to people myself, see what they say."

"I don't want us to split up completely," said Max. "Susan's the most likely target, so one of us should stay with her all of the time." He looked at Susan and smiled. "That's only because we can run faster. I wouldn't want you to have to face off with someone and having to throw lightning inside the school. If something -does- turn up, not that anything will, get -out- of the building. Even if I'm not with you, I want you two to clear out. Any fighting here would just get some students hurt or worse, so just run away. You're not being cowardly, you're saving lives; most importantly to me, your own."

He leaned in closer. "Did I tell you that you look -incredibly- stunning as a redhead?"

Stepping back, he looked around and found an innocuous place to put his group portrait. He signed it with a flowing, calligraphic 'M'. "Almost a shame to leave it." Then he turned and looked at the two ladies. "I suppose we should be moving along. Susan, don't forget your drawing." He headed for the door. "I'll see you in the library. Oh, just a second."

Reaching into his back pocket, Max pulled out a card and shook some small things out of it. Three earplugs and three small dermal microphones. Passing them out, he put the earpiece in his ear and the thin microphone inside his cheek, next to his lower gums. "Just talk and the earpieces will carry the sound. Range is only about two kilometers, and don't eat anything with the mike in your mouth." Hugging both of them, he added. "Relax and get the feel of the place, but don't drop your guard completely."

He then left to find the office.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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