A WHOLE YEAR. I'M A FAILURE AND I APOLOGIZE. But I'm going to assure you the updates will be nonexistent again this year, because I'm finally in college. My senior year was miserable, and the only thing I really worked on was one of my original stories (which you can read the first three chapters of on my tumblr). I did work a little on this chapter this year, but all of the school work and a drain of motivation never got me far. So, I'm really, really sorry?

However, I know how infuriating it is to find a story you sorta like and find it left hanging, so I'm going to write a summary of how I thought the rest of the fic would go along. I'll post it on my tumblr, and I'll add a link to it on my profile whenever I'm finished with it. I'll also include a more in-depth excuse as to why I dropped the story (there are actual genuine reasons- I'm not just overloaded with work and terrible lazy).

So until then, please enjoy the (probably) last chapter of Memoire! Reviews are always appreciated.

Chapter 22-

It was cold. Not that Toris couldn't stand the chilly temperature, but it was a bit of a shock to go from eighty-degree weather to fifty-degree weather. He was glad Feliks had shoved a jacket in his face before they got on the plane. Speaking of Feliks- his blonde friend was already texting about seven people all at once, laughing maniacally as he confidently led them down the street. Toris had the sinking suspicion he was getting them both horribly lost, but Feliks didn't seem unsure about any of the twisting turns they made. Of course there was always the possibility that he was just stalling so he wouldn't have to face his parents yet.

When Feliks finally put his phone away, Toris elbowed him. He would have poked him to get his attention, but that was impossible while carrying two very large and heavy suitcases- both of which belonged to Feliks. Toris also wore his duffle bag of clothes on his back. "Are we almost there, Pol?" he tiredly asked.

Not paying one bit of attention to how pitiful his pack-mule sounded, Feliks sighed. "Patience, Liet. My folks' place is outside of town."

"Then why are we walking?"

"Because you need to get in shape and get some muscles. How in the world do you expect to compete with Alfred if you're a stick?" Feliks asked, flicking a loose hair out of his face. He easily continued, further ignoring Toris's furious and flabbergasted gape. "I've done my research on the lovely Miss Braginski, and my findings suggest you have no hope of ever getting it on with her unless you man up and bulk up. And I, like, have no money for a taxi."

Toris sullenly shut his mouth, choosing instead to inwardly grumble. At least Feliks was trying to help him, even if the help was totally unwanted. He was also afraid to learn just what kind of research he had been doing on Natalya. Had he seriously pulled an Ivan and stalked one of her and Alfred's dates? Toris wouldn't put it past him. He probably would have teased Ivan the entire time, too.

The walk wasn't so bad, he supposed. His hands were cramping and his shoulders hurt, but that only meant he could sleep in tomorrow morning. As soon as they finally arrived at Feliks's parents' house and introductions were over, Toris was finding someplace to hide and recooperate. Feliks had talked nonstop on the plane, refusing him even a minute of rest. Even after Feliks bought them both coffees immediately after they disembarked, Toris felt like a zombie. Feliks was wide awake and as chipper as ever- it seemed it was physically impossible for him to settle down when Doda was only a few days away. Despite Toris's best efforts to serve as the grump to keep him from exploding into glitter and confetti, he couldn't help but smile a little at the dancing Pole prancing down the sidewalk. It had been a while since he seemed this happy. Truly happy, too, and not just the usual nonsensical cheer he spouted to everyone else. Toris just hoped some of his good mood would rub off on him. He couldn't afford to ruin this trip.

"Ooh! Liet!" Feliks suddenly burst, grabbing his sleeve and yanking him over to a random building. He obviously couldn't read the old sign hanging above the door because of its excessive and gaudy Polishness, but nodded approvingly anyway. "Oh, shush. I know you, like, have no idea what this is. But it's all good because I'm, like, the best translator around! This was my favorite hair salon! Looks like it's been out of business for a while, though. I guess the stylists just couldn't, like, live without me, their best customer."

"I'm sure they're not dead, Pol."

Feliks completely ignored him, earning himself another weary sigh. "But fear not, gilded Adamczyk brothers, for I shall, like, carry on your legacy!" he shouted to the derelict shop, cupping his hands for that extra obnoxious effect. "One day I'll totes move back and buy this shop! I'll be the most fabulous hair dresser in, like, all of East Europe! I'll start here, and, like, move up to a place in Warsaw, and then I'll go BIG and design stuff for EUROVISION! Speaking of which, Liet, did you see how they let that Norwegian dude beat my fabulous Polish sister? They, like, HAD to rig the competition! Lidia Kopania kicked butt and they only got her to the semi-finals! Like, are they trying to start World War III? Because I'll be the one leading the army."

"You mean Alexander Rybak? Pol, that Eurovision was two years ago," Toris kindly reminded him. "Magdalena Tul was this year's Polish contestant. And you have to admit Fairytale was an awesome song."

"Yeah, and she didn't even make it to the semi-finals! This is totes foul play!" he groaned, throwing up his hands. Feliks huffily spun on his heel, facing their destination once more. Toris hurried to grab his luggage again, sure to follow him to prevent any wrong turns that would get him horribly lost in the middle of a strange Polish city. That wasn't exactly on his list of things to do on this trip. Feliks was still muttering angry sentiments under his breath when he caught up. Most of it was cantankerous Polish, but the few English words he let slip weren't exactly pretty. But as they continued past old shops and started into a larger crowd, Feliks soon went silent and practically glued himself to Toris's side. He even offered to carry one of his suitcases, so Toris knew better than to comment. Toris wasn't sure if he was anxious because of the crowd, or because of the people in the crowd that could possibly recognize him. Whichever reason it was, or perhaps a combination of the two, it made him regret calling for a taxi. Not that he would have fared much better in an enclosed space with a stranger, but it had to beat wandering through a mass of locals.

Toris lightly elbowed him again, and they stepped off of the sidewalk to lean against the front of a pawn shop. "I have some cash from the airport. I figured it would be smart to switch to this currency. Is this enough for a cab?"

"Liet-"

"I didn't plan on buying anything other a few souvenirs for Raivis and Eduard, so I can spare some cash," he assured him. Feliks still wore a face of apprehension, but took the offered wad of cash and pulled out his phone. He still had the local taxi service on speed dial. While he twittered away in Polish, hopefully relaying their location instead of sharing a kind conversation about how he was in town to see Doda, Toris rolled his shoulders and turned to peer out at the crowd. He honestly felt just as nervous as Feliks when he took in how many curious eyes glanced their way. How many of these people knew Feliks, or at least recognize him? This was his hometown, after all, and he seemed to know the area and residents quite well.

Toris just hoped no one would feel brave enough to ask him why he left or, heaven forbid, something about Anelie. The sooner that taxi arrived the better.

Feliks apparently hadn't chosen to disclose his life story to the taxi service lady, so he was back to politely cowering behind Toris in a matter of seconds. With a tired huff, he plopped down on the steps of another empty shop. This one's windows were plastered on the inside with old newspapers, taped on top of each other, overlapping so as to hide the inside of the building. On the outside of the windows read "Na sprzedaż lub wynajem" in slightly faded red paint. Toris guessed that meant it was for sale or something. Either way, he quickly lost interest in trying to decipher sloppy Polish and opted to finally sit down himself, gratefully peeling off his load on the sidewalk. "How long until-"

"Did I ever tell you the story about how my grandpa first went to America?" Feliks interrupted. Toris decided that the change of subject meant they'd be waiting a while on the cab, which was what he was about to ask about. He shook his head.

"Well, Grandpa had fought in the war. World War II, I mean. It sucked and he hated it. When the war was over, and the stupid Soviets were arguing with the stupid British and Americans about their right to own Poland, he snuck out with my grandma and high-tailed it across the continent. He was in New York by the end of the week. Like, since the war was over and jobs were good again and stuff, it didn't take long for him to find a decent job. Everybody in the factory, like, loved him, and everything was going well for a while. But then they learned Grandma was Ukranian, and that back in her day, she had been a paper girl on the streets handing out socialist propaganda. More or less they were chased out with fire and pitchforks, and ended up in Virginia. Coal mining it was, and he was ready to go striking with the Union!"

Feliks continued with a sigh. "But by then Tavian's mom and my dad had come along, and he thought being poor sucked. Dad tried to run away a couple times, but never found the fame and fortune he wanted. Eventually he got a teaching job at, like, some dinky school even more in the boonies than Heta. Teaching biology was, like, the best thing ever. He wanted to be a scientist. He wanted my mom to be a scientist. He wanted me to be a scientist, and, for a while, I was okay with that. Chemisty is, like, totes cool. But I knew I was too fabulous to stay locked up in a stupid lab all day, surrounded by nerds with bad hygiene and huge egos. So, I decided to do something else that'd help people. Something tinier, but still essential to keep the world functioning."

"Hair dressing?" Toris guessed.

Feliks gave him a dazzling grin. "But of course! Anelie was all for the idea. She used to let me practice on her some when I went to her house. But then…. Yeah. Tavian wasn't so nice, threatening me with, like, a curse of never-ending bad hair days, but he was cool with my dream."

Toris suddenly grew worried that this story was all an elaborate exposition to an inquiry regarding his hair and if he'd like it cut short and dyed a deep blue, but Pol never popped the question. Instead, he gave him another reason to worry: "So, basically, my folks still think I'm gonna be a chemist and I'm here to check out some colleges in Warsaw instead of seeing Doda in concert while yelling at old barbershops."

"…Wonderful."

To sweeten the deal, their taxi finally arrived. Feliks wordlessly slipped in first, leaving Toris to personally pack all of their luggage in the trunk. Once he had joined Feliks, a piece of paper was shoved in his face. His parents' address. Toris stumbled over the street name and town, but the driver seemed to understand as he thoughtfully popped his bubble gum and took a swig of root beer. The car was put into motion, and Toris elbowed his friend. "What kind of taxi company is this?"

"Oh, this isn't a taxi. It's my dad's neighbor's brother-in-law and his pizza delivery car. He owes me a favor, but it's still gonna cost us forty euros."

"FORTY EUROS? Your house is just outside of town! That's enough money to get us to Germany by cab!"

"Możesz mu powiedzieć, żeby się zamknął? Nie słyszę mój Lionel Richie."

Feliks shot him an irritable look. "The man can't hear his Lionel Richie, Liet! Geez!"

Sure enough, now that he was really listening, Lionel Richie's smooth voice was encompassing them from seemingly every inch of the car, which also was beginning to reek of anchovies and root beer. Wishing he had tried harder to convince Tavian to come with them on this asinine adventure, he miserably slid down in his seat.

Feliks and his dad's neighbor's brother-in-law sang along with Mr. Richie the entire way to his house.

((((()))))

"I feel particularly useless today."

"Sí," Julio miserably agreed. Alfred cast him a glare, as if once again voicelessly demanding why in the world this jerkwad had been allowed within a ten foot distance of him. Natalya kicked his leg and he resumed his normally scheduled stare down with the glassy red table.

The three of them sat at a back corner of Red Flower, the only true adherents to their impromptu meeting- besides Emil, who had left minutes ago to try and find a working VCR in the mall. Yong Soo and the tape Emil had found were the reason they had come to hopefully work out a plan of action. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could really do until they watched the video.

Normally this sort of thing would happen at Tavian's coffee shop- the ultimate neutral territory, no matter the occasion- but with the circumstances, everyone agreed Red Flower was their next best bet. After all, Tao, Xiao Mei, and Ivan had a business to run while Kiku was overseas, Yong Soo was locked in his room with no intention of leaving any time soon, and Yao was certifiably freaked out to the point of punching holes into walls. He had finally been somewhat curbed into submission by his sister, Kieu, and Lam, after they dragged him away to the arcade to channel all of that anger into a very violent and intense game of air hockey. Alfred hadn't seen him in hours, but every half hour or so, Lam would pop in to deposit a few dozen Hello Kitty plushes in the farthest corner of the nearly empty dining area.

Alfred had to stop this insanity before the restaurant exploded with cute pastel kitties. He shoved himself away from the table. "Screw this. I'm gonna talk to Yong Soo and drag him out of that stupid room even if it kills me."

"Oh, sit down," Natalya sighed, yanking right back to his seat. She cut off his whine with a sharp kick to the shin. "That boy has just been through three years' worth of betrayal in under ten minutes. The person he loved most hurt him in every way possible. Leave him alone for a while, alright?"

The only thing stopping him from running to the wannabe Korean anyway was her face. It wasn't imploring or demanding, but simply passive, because she knew all too well how it felt to have your life so suddenly ripped apart. Sure that Alfred wasn't about to do anything stupid in the next ten minutes, she looked to Julio. "How about you try and find a VCR, too."

The Mexican boy looked between the two of them. When it dawned on him that they were about to have a heart-to-heart talk or something else equally secular and gushy, he nodded. "Seguro." Before he completely disappeared from their sight, he spun around to give them a salute. Alfred gave him his own kind salute in response.

Alfred wilted onto the table, smushing his cheek on the cool glass. "This sucks hardcore, Natty. Every single little bit of this. And I'm not just talking about Soo and Emil, either."

"I know, but that doesn't give you more of a right to try and fix everything. Sometimes you need to step back and let someone else handle it. How can any of us get along with our lives if we're constantly depending on someone else to pick up our messes?"

He huffed, fogging up the table. "I know that," he irritably said. "But them trying to fix their problems by themselves is what's gotten everybody into this mess! Like, obviously Brandon didn't want anyone else's help getting home, because everyone thought he was dead for twenty five years. Feliks and Toris are stubborn poopheads who won't listen to anyone when something goes wrong, and now Gilbert's sick and everyone's freaking out-"

"Then we should leave before something hits us, too," she coolly interrupted. That instantly shut him up. Natalya scowled at his cowed expression. "Not like that, you moron, and of course I'd bring Ivan along. Remember when I told you I don't trust you when we're alone?"

"We're alone right now," he reminded her.

"We're in a restaurant with other living bodies."

"Wow, thanks for making it seem like we're in some weird zombie world."

"Shut up, Alfred. But I'm talking about a vacation or something. Anything to get away from all of this," she vaguely gestured around the dining area.

Alfred sat up straight. "Well, where are you thinking? I'd love to get your bro on a rollercoaster somewhere. Or, you know, the beach is awesome this time of year…."

"You know how I burn in the sun," his little vampire hissed. "And amusement parks are both too expensive and stupid. There's too much walking and nothing do to but waste money on overpriced garbage. Ivan and I do not ride rollercoasters." Natalya hesitated a moment before continuing. "Actually… I was kind of hoping to… maybe see my father?"

"Natalya…."

She shook her head. "I know. But even if it is hard to believe, he wasn't all bad. It was only when he drank, and now that he's sober… I'd like to tell him how we're doing. I want to prove to him that we didn't need such a strict life to get ahead. We just wanted to be happy, and I know that's what he wanted to, even if he saw it in another light. He just didn't want us to end up like him, alright?"

He raised his hands in defense. Alfred wasn't about to argue her claims. After all, Morozko was the man who paid for everything after the wreck when he was little. Of course, he had been the cause of the wreck, but he had owned up and tried to help as best as he could. That's not saying Alfred wouldn't strangle the dude if he tiptoed out of line again in front of Natalya and Ivan, though.

Natalya lightly shrugged. "And, you know, he might be able to help us out a little. Yong Soo said Bong Chung and her mother were indebted to someone- someone who probably got them into America. If they're involved with the people my father knew, it may help us catch the people who are behind this."

"You have to admit that's a little farfetched…."

"I know. But it's a lead, isn't it?"

It was a lead, no matter how much Alfred wanted to argue. But what could he say to her? Your dad may be sober and safe in jail, but I'm fairly certain he's still a little psychopathic and I don't want you to get your hopes up only to have them crushed? She would crush his face against a cheese grater. So all Alfred could do, at the risk of bodily injury, was frown and politely inform her, "Weren't you just lecturing me about taking care of everyone else's problems?"

Natalya sighed like he had completely missed the whole point. "I never said we couldn't help them out a little."

((((()))))

When Bogumierz pulled slowly onto a too-familiar paved road flanked on either side by quaint, quiet homes, Feliks felt like he was trying to swallow down a few rocks. He started to reach for Toris's sleeve, but stopped himself before he made an even bigger fool of himself. Once he stood before his parents, there would be no hanging onto Toris. All eyes would be on him. He knew he should rented a hotel room and skipped all of this nonsense- Tavian had advised him to do the same- but Feliks really was broke and he figured now was as good a time as any to finally break the news to his folks. He wouldn't be making a name for himself the way they had thought he would be. His dad would get angry enough to strangle him and his mom would give him her aghast, terribly disappointed look.

We put too much time and money to get you into all of those science camps when you were young! You promised this was what you were going to do! You're no better than your no-good, spineless grandpa!

Well, in the event he was disowned (again), at least he'd always have a room in Tavian's shack. And if he ever turned on him, Feliks would simply kidnap Toris and they'd run away to the back woods of Lithuania and become gypsies. Now they were a good people who liked their hairdressers.

With a now just-as-broke-as-him best friend at his side, and head held high, Feliks grabbed his bright pink suitcase and valiantly marched up to his front door. Before he could knock, the door was pulled open wide. His face was immediately smushed into his mother's bony shoulder. "Feliks! It's been so long!" His mother screeched. Feliks dropped his suitcase in both shock and lack of breath. Once she had had her fill of strangling him, Feliks' mother turned to Toris. "And I haven't seen you in over a decade, young man! How have you been? I hope Feliks hasn't been too much trouble."

It took a lot of effort to keep his eye from twitching and his smile from waning. Feliks had only imposed on Toris because someone had kicked him out the first time his MPD reared its ugly head. So he wasn't the troublesome one, here. But the second he glanced at Toris, the thought got stuck in his throat. His friend was nervously smiling as Mama droned on and on about how big he gotten and how he had grown up to be so handsome. It was hard to tell he had fallen through the floor of an abandoned house just weeks ago, but Feliks wasn't about to be fooled into thinking he was totally fine now. After all, whenever he screwed up, it took months to repair the damage done.

He quickly looked away. Lightly sighing to catch Mama's attention, he picked up his suitcase. "Like, going to invite us in sometime today? We've totes gotta crash soon because jet lag is a big jerk."

"Of course!" she clapped, grin stretching even wider. "Tata already fixed yours beds and I'll start on dinner as soon as you're both settled."

Feliks didn't think he would be getting settled in here any time soon, but followed her inside anyway. He tried his best to ignore the sense of familiarity clawing up his windpipe, fervently reminding himself that this was not his home anymore. These jerks had literally kicked him out of the country the second he deviated from their perfect plans. It frankly didn't matter to them that he had just lost his best friend and was suffering because of it. He was crazy, and didn't want to be a freaking chemist, so obviously he was actually some freaky devilspawn they were only treating nicely out of fear of him snapping.

He really should have rented that dang hotel room.

After his mother left them to wander upstairs by themselves, Toris nudged his arm. Feliks gave him his best gagging impression, but his hopeful face didn't change. "This is a good start," he reassured him.

"Oh, but they're always good starts until I say something they don't like," Feliks replied in a mutter. He dejectedly kicked the staircase railing. It looked like it had gotten a new paint job in the last few months- it was more of a caramel color now instead of the pale cream it was before. The sight gave him a sinking feeling as to what lay beyond. He grimly steeled himself for the worst. "Let's go see how they've screwed up my room."

((((()))))

The weather was all wrong. The sun was still shining, clouds nonexistent, and the sky was a beautiful pale blue, creeping and blending with a cream and then a pink color as evening rose on the busy horizon. The city of Amsterdam was still alit with conversation from every angle, laughter periodically breaking through the cacophony. There were no hard feelings between anyone, it seemed, and that only served to further break the young man sitting at the edge of the road, feeling like he was trapped and ten years old again.

"…Marco?"

Feliciano dimly processed the name in his mind. Too many things were swirling around in his head for him to truly concentrate- Ludwig was yelling at him to get up, people were beginning to stare and murmur, the car just feet away from him angrily honked in exasperation. But Feli couldn't focus on any of that. There was just this hauntingly familiar face, staring back at him in what could only be described as total horror.

What does he have to be afraid of?

Feliciano couldn't make a sound, as he was frozen to his stiff position on the warm asphalt. It was actually starting to hurt his hands, scorching his sore palms, but Feli didn't really notice that either.

We were supposed to never see each other again.

He did notice when Ludwig yanked him to his feet, yelling loud enough to temporarily snap him out of his stupor.

Oh God. Why is he here?

"Feli!" Ludwig burst, giving him a shake. When Feliciano turned to face him, Ludwig stopped short, the breath congealing in his throat. He choked something out, but Feliciano, though he tried to listen and hear him, only heard the sound of dry sobbing. He felt the fire in his chest, alerting him to the source of the awful sound: himself.

Why is he here? Why why why? What did I do wrong? No… I haven't done anything wrong. It's not my fault. It was never my fault. But what is he doing here? Why is this happening to me?

He didn't think; he just acted. Nearly unable to breathe, he grabbed Ludwig's wrist and took off running, pulling his stunned friend along behind him. He blindly ran, shoving through dozens of people, unable to apologize for bumping into them. He couldn't breathe. His lungs were not working as they should have. Nothing was working properly. Feliciano tripped over either his shoelaces or his feet, but it didn't stop him. He had to outrun Marco. He had to escape the sight of Lovino's face, bloody from a fight that almost killed him. He had to get so far away from everyone- their pitying stares and gasps, their crushing hugs that kept him farther and farther from his family, the sight of Nonno in his casket where he'd lay forever without knowing the truth.

Feliciano finally came to a halt, reeling from the dizzy black spots dotting across his vision. He swayed, but Ludwig steadied him, looking at him with that awful look that reminded him all too well of what had happened at his mother's wedding.

"He's gone," Ludwig assured him, slightly panting from their reckless escape.

"He'll never be gone," Feliciano said with a shuddering breath. Was this how Lovino felt during that fight? Feliciano wasn't hurt besides his scraped palms, but the ache all over his body intensified with each gasp of air.

Is this how Mamma felt when Heilrich and I told her the truth?

"Why" invaded his mind, demanding all of the boy's attention. Why now? Why is he here? Why did this happen when I was finally starting to get over it? He numbly remembered hearing Marco's verdict. He had three years in jail, and then he was free. Three long years had passed, and Feliciano was trapped again. Everything he had worked so hard for crumbled away in front of him. The wall he had mentally erected was starting to fall apart from the ever present cracks, revealing the painful past behind it. A new surge of tears came forth, but Feliciano was too exhausted to further break apart. Any strength he had was washed away by the powerful tide of nightmares.

Nonno… I need you. I need you to tell me everything is all right. You're the only one that can make the bad thoughts go away. Nonno, please, come back! Come back!

Ludwig put an arm around him, keeping him standing when he felt like falling down in defeat. After all, he had lost, hadn't he? Feliciano wasn't as overcoming as he thought he had been. What had plagued him still had a suffocating hold over him.

"C-come on, let's hurry back to the hotel."

Feliciano nodded, feeling more helpless and smaller than ever. "Tell me something to distract me," Feliciano heard himself plead. Ludwig blinked in shock, but quickly complied, breaking into the tale of Gilbert's Christmas story. Feliciano felt the funny words lifelessly flow through one ear and out the other- words that normally would have made him giggle. Pirates and quicksand and a fat, bald King Herod allergic to sheep? He tried to make himself laugh at it. The smile he managed to wrangle onto his distraught face felt oddly comforting in a sense he couldn't figure out. It made him think of Heilrich and Nonno, and then of Heilrich and Lovino after Nonno passed away.

Smiling so often will give people the impression you're lying.

Lying was a sin.

Never before had he ever felt so at ease in committing a sin. It felt like a warm, cozy blanket that wrapped around him and shielded him from a violent winter. Feliciano had long since forgotten why he started lying to everyone. Now, however, it was all too obvious. He was a coward and a weakling. He could never overcome his trials like the bible men Aria and Roma had told him about. Despite everything they had told him, he couldn't think of Samson and feel strong. Instead, he thought of how easily Samson fell to Delilah. He had tried to see the good in her, wanted to trust her so badly, but he was foolish to trust someone that cared nothing for him. Samson made the mistake of being too loving, and it cost him so much pain and humiliation. Even when he regained the strength to fight back, the pillars he had been bound to fell on him, too.

If Marco was back, how would he ever dig himself out of the rubble?

Translations-

Polish

Możesz mu powiedzieć, żeby się zamknął? Nie słyszę mój Lionel Richie.- Can you tell him to shut up? I can't hear my Lionel Richie.

Mama- mom

Tata- dad

Spanish

Seguro- sure