Ok, here is the (hopefully) long awaited sequel to Missing Him! I'm really kinda scared about how I did this... if you like it, review... please... oh, and there's gonna be some mild cussing in this one, just thought i'd say it. The summary is crappy, I know.*sweat drop* Please don't rub it in my face (*cough*Volk*cough*).

Jack's POV

"You want me to what?"

"One of the doctors suggested it. She said it would help you if you were able to express your feelings about the kidnapping, it would help you," Mom says

"Help me with what?!" I protest.

"Any mental scarring that Kiara might have done."

"Mom, I'm fine. Yeah, she said some stuff that went to my head a little, but I'm over it! I don't need a diary!"

"It's not a diary, it's a journal, and it's either this or going to see a psychologist."

"Hmm…" I say, pretending to think. "Visiting a shrink or keeping a diary… how about neither?"

She stares at me.

I stare at her.

She stares at me some more.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I'm really sorry Mom, I ran into Carson earlier today, and he got me in a really bad mood."

"Carson… that boy who was at the dojo and left before you joined?"

"Yeah. But do I seriously have to do this?"

"Please, Jack. I worry about you, and your sister. I just want the best for you two."

"…"

"You don't even have to write 'Dear Journal' or anything, just the date and time."

"…fine."

Mom beams, and I smile a little. "Ok! Well, I found these journals up in the attic earlier today when I was looking for a blank notebook that you could use. They belonged to your grandfather, and he wrote quite a bit in them when he was younger, but eventually he just grew out of it. I think you'd be interested in them, and I found a blank one underneath it all."

She picks up an old light brown book off of a stack of similar ones from the table (which I somehow didn't notice until now). The back cover wraps around to the front cover and attaches to it with a little magnet. I raise an eyebrow as she hands it to me. She shrugs.

"I knew you'd say yes eventually. Now, I want you to write in it at least once a day."

"Ok," I say, picking up the books from the table and feeling a bit eager to read what's inside the books. I walk upstairs to my room to find Kiara lying on my bed. I stand there for a second, blinking, before asking, "Why are you in here?"

She looks over at me with a sad face on, and concern fills me. "What's wrong?"

"It's my fault you have to keep a diary," she says quietly. I sigh, ignoring the spark of annoyance I felt at her calling my journal a diary. I set Grandpa's books on my computer desk and walk over to my bed, sitting down next to her. She sits up and puts her head on my shoulder.

"Kiara, how many times have I told you that it's not your fault?" I ask softly. Every once and a while she puts herself down about what happened while I was Ty's captive.

"A lot," she replies.

"Exactly, and I'll say it again; it's not your fault. Ty raised you to believe that Mom and I were the bad guys. No one's blaming you for that."

"I know, but still…"

"Kiara." I turn to look at my twin sister. "It's. Not. Your. Fault."

She smiles. "Thanks, Jack."

"No problem. Now, get out of my room, please. I have to write stuff." She rolls her eyes and smiles, getting up and walking out. When she closes the door, I go over and walk to my computer desk, where I had placed my new journal before.

"I like to move it, move it.

I like to move it, move it.

I like to move it, move it.

Yeah like to, MOVE IT!"

I chuckle at the ringtone that Jerry had set for himself on my phone and answer his call. "Hey, Jerry."

"WOOOO, man, you gotta get down to the dojo and see Eddie and I's totally swag project!"

"Project? What project?" I was never informed of a project, and I begin to mildly panic.

"The one for chemistry. You know, Mrs. Hethla's class?"

"Oh, that one. Dude, that was due on Friday."

"Right… and what's today?"

"Thursday."

"So what's the problem?"

"It was due last Friday."

"Oops… oh well, the important thing is that it's finally done. Now get over here, man!"

I chuckle. "Alright, I'm on my way, I just gotta take care of something first." He says okay and hangs up, and I pick up the empty journal. I grab a pencil and start to write.

March 12, 2013 12:14 P.M.

Ok, well Mom wanted me to start writing in this, so… yeah. Kiara said stuff that… hurt, to be honest. Especially the comments about how Dad deserved to die. I had to keep telling myself that she didn't mean it. It's still kind of eating at me now, actually. I'll never forget the horrible things she said, but she's my sister. I won't let it get in the way of me getting closer to her, like a brother and sister should.

I close the journal and put the pencil down, feeling as if a slight weight had been lifted off my chest. 'Huh. I guess writing in this thing will help' I think, as I grab my skateboard and helmet and head downstairs.

"Where are you going?" Mom asks from her position on the couch. She's watching White Collar with Kiara, and I'm tempted to go over and join them; I love cop shows.

"Jerry wants me to go check something out at the dojo," I reply, putting on my helmet and clipping the strap under my chin.

"Alright, have fun!" "See ya later."

"Bye, guys." I walk out of the house and skateboard to the mall. The whole journey there, I had this strange feeling that I was being watched.

I finally arrive at the dojo. In the middle of the mats is a really weird looking… thing. The only word that I can use to describe it is a 'robot'. Well, whatever it is, it looks really bad. And by bad, I mean that it looks like it could collapse and breaks into thousands of pieces any second. It has a remotely humanoid structure, and right in the middle of the 'chest', running on a little wheel, is—

"A mouse?"

But no one is in the dojo to answer my question; there's no sign of Jerry or Eddie anywhere. I use the opportunity to look at the robot some more. I walk around it in a wide circle (making sure to keep my distance). It appeared to run off of the power of the mouse running on the little wheel.

'I wonder what it does.'

Eventually giving up on trying to figure out what the strange contraption was built for (and what it has to do with chemistry), I decide to go and see if Eddie and Jerry are in the locker rooms.

'Not in here.' I think, as I look around the empty locker room. Suddenly, the sound of a big BANG! is heard reverberating around the room, amplified by the metal of the lockers. I run back into the main training room to see that somebody had slashed the 'robot' in two, leaving two separate pieces lying on the floor. As I watch, the two separate pieces crumble even further.

'Who the heck did this?!' I think, just as Eddie and Jerry come running in through the front door. The former is holding a falafel ball in his hand.

"Jack, what the heck?!" Eddie cries, walking over to the remains of the 'robot' and kneeling down next to it as Jerry starts yelling at me in rapid Spanish.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a sec. I did not do this!" I say in protest, holding up my hands.

"Who else would have done it?" Eddie growls, turning on me. I blink; I've never seen my chubby, dark-skinned friend look so angry before.

"Do you really think I would destroy you guys' project? What could I possibly gain from doing that?!" I turn to the tall, ranting Latino boy who is still going on in Spanish and seems to be looking for something. "And Jerry, would you PLEASE speak English?!"

He glares at me and starts cussing…

…a lot.

I blink. "Ok, fine, Spanish is preferable."

He nods and goes back to looking for whatever, resuming the rapid-fire Spanish. At least this time I have an idea of what he's saying.

I turn my attention back to Eddie, who's shaking his head. "That dude at Falafel Phil's was talking about it… I didn't believe him at first, but…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What 'dude at Falafel Phil's'?"

Eddie shrugs. "I dunno. I thought he was Ty at first, but then I remembered that Ty is in jail. Jerry and I were just talking about our robot when he comes up to us and he's goes 'Do you mean the robot that Jack over there just destroyed?' and Jerry and I were like 'what!' and we run over here and see you. End of story."

"I didn't do it! Why won't you believe me? Fine. Go ask Joan if you can look at her security footage."

"Fine!"

"Si usted es la persona que lo hizo ..." Jerry says in a threatening tone of voice.

"Well, looks like you two owe Mr. Kicky Kicky Chop Chop an apology," Joan announces as the black and white video on her computer screen ends.

"Whoa… sorry, man, no hard feelings?" Jerry says apologetically.

"Yeah, Jack, I'm really sorry," Eddie adds in.

"Hey, don't worry about it…" I say distractedly. The figure in the video, a tall dark haired man, had come into the dojo and quickly kicked the robot in the lower torso, then quickly ran out again and headed towards Falafel Phil's. But one thing is eating at me:

Why does this man look so familiar?

"Joan, could you play that back again?" I ask her. She nods and replays the video (not like there was any need because it was on a loop), and I study it intently. I stop it in the spilt second that it takes the man to turn around to go back outside, and gasp.

It's Greg.

As in Greg Griffith.

After the whole kidnapping fiasco two months ago, I kind of just forgot about Greg. I didn't think I would ever see him again. But now…

"Do you know this guy, Jack?" Joan asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. Eddie and Jerry had exited the room at some point without me noticing. (1)

"Uhhh…"

"Yeah, he doesn't look like anyone I recognize, either," she says, nodding as she walks over to the door and opens it. "Well, see ya later!"

I walk out of the room, bewildered and admittedly a little scared.

?'s POV

"I didn't do it! Why won't you believe me? Fine. Go ask Joan if you can look at her security footage."

"DAMMIT!" I snarl, slamming my fist on the table as I watch the three teenagers walk out of their dojo. "I forgot about the damn security cameras!"

"Don't break my T.V., big bro," I hear my brother's voice laugh over the phone.

"I didn't hit the T.V.," I grumble.

"So, what are you gonna do now? And make it quick because I only have two minutes left."

"I don't know! This was supposed to build some distrust between them!"

"Hmm… how about trying the smart one, Milton? He's got the most logical mind out of all of them, so you could use that to your advantage."

"And WHAT, exactly, do you propose that I do?"

"Not sure… but you better think of something before the cops start on your trail."

"I know, I know."

"You're lucky that he didn't call them when you broke his wrist."

"I know. It hurt his pride too much." We both laugh.

"Anyway, I gotta go. Think of something."

"You got it."

I hang up and spin around in my chair, observing the cabin that I chose as a hide out. It isn't much; it only has a table that my brother's T.V. rests on, a bed, a door, and some shackles that are attached to the wall. No window.

But, it will soon hold a certain brown-haired teenager.

(1) Ok, correct me if I'm wrong (though I'm pretty sure I'm not), but Kim and Jack are the only Wasabi Warriors that saw and know about Greg (besides Kiara). So naturally, Eddie and Jerry wouldn't recognize him. Perfect camouflage.

Ok, so I'm feeling kinda iffy about this whole fic. I will complete it, but... meh. Just tell me how it is in a review (please)!

Until next time (hopefully next Saturday)

-BP