4. Masquerades

I can't start this without thanking all the support you guys show me in your reviews. I usually write for myself, it's a personal thing for me. But it really helps to know that there are people out there enjoying this too. So thank you.

Now, last chapter had some controvertial things that some liked and some hated. Legitimate critics. And I'm not trying to excuse myself. I fully accept that I may have failed in making clear my intentions, and delivered a message that was not what I intended. This are not excuses, it's simply my explanation of what I intended for chapter three. Obviously, a good work speaks for itself, so the fact that I need to explain it clearly means I've failed. So, first of all, the author note at the beginning: it was a joke. I thought it was clear that it was just a joke. But I received some PMs about it, so I just want you to know that it was just for comedy purposes. Clearly I don't think it's the "saddest approach on the Loud House characters ever written", or whatever I wrote at that moment. I thought it was a funny way to introduce the chapter, and the "John Cena's announcer voice" was to make clear that it was all just exaggerated.

Second, the most controvertial aspect of chapter three: Dr House's cameo. I knew it was a risk play. I knew that it could backfire completely. I took that risk and I asume the results with honor. The main complain seemed to be that his appearance abruptly ended all drama and sad atmosphere. I see why you could see it that way, and clearly it was my bad, for I couldn't fully express what I intended. As I said, damage's been already done. I'll just explain my reasons.

He wasn't there because "LOL, DR HOUSE XDD". When I first drafted this fic's storyboard, the character was just an OC doctor that gave Lincoln some motivational chat about our time in this world, how we should enjoy our every moment here and try to leave our mark. A nice chat that gave Lincoln a reason to try and make the most of his remaining time. I even had this little fable prepared. Beautiful, isn't it? It's also just TOO cliche and predictable. And honestly, making that a part of Lincoln's character arc seemed almost cruel, a big lie and underestimation. Instead, I almost immediately knew that I wanted to take it from another angle. I'm not going to spoil anything, but as the summary says, a big part of this story is Lincoln trying to deal with his own mortality. A magic chat with Dr Nice that took all the drama away from something as serious as death... I couldn't do it.

That's when I thought about a cynic doctor that actually only confuses Lincoln at first. If I also added how complex Lincoln's condition was, the idea of some Dr House like doctor was evident. But Evident House rip-off is Evident. So I said what the hell and put him in there, with his name and all. About the tone, it was a misstep. It shouldn't have been so... I don't know how to say this in english, haha. Anti-climatic? Idk. But the way I see it, tho, Dr House is only "funny" in the context of his own show, where we accept his behavior like normal and hilarious. Outside the logic of his show, he's an asshole. Really. I invite you to read last chapter again from Lincoln's perspective (what I tried and failed to do). It's a guy insulting and trying to make a kid cry to confirm his theory. House was a Lincoln's counterpart. A cynical view of life, that even tried to dismiss the consolation Lincoln may found in religion just so he can see what's at stake here. That was his role: House is the archtype of the cruel reality that now weights on Lincoln's shoulder. He tries to avoid it, to not think about it, to ignore it even, but in the end he can't. He needs to face it and accept what's happening. That's why he finally lets himself cry, because he finally stops avoiding thinking about it. He accepts it. That was his first step on a long journey thats awaiting him. That's pretty much all I wanted to say about House.

About some other issues like the narration, truth be told, I actively tried to not give you a lot of details on how everyone's feeling. I tried to play with some general body language and a few mental images but not much more, because I have like a whole fic to develop their characters. However, in retrospective, it was a dumb idea. Sorry.

And sorry for this long intro. I just wanted to tell my point of view, not to change yours, just so you may understand why I did it the way it's written. I'm clearly not denying your critics, please, don't get me wrong. I'm taking notes on everything you say so I can improve. I'm currently in my second year in architecture, guys. If I couldn't tolerate critizism I would be changing carreer (our professors literally break our models every week, those bastards). Instead, I take everything you say as part of a constant learning process I'm on. And every critic it's my change to improve. So, honestly, thank you for your reviews.

Ok, now, ABOUT THIS CHAPTER. It's one of the first ones focused on a particular Loud sister. This fic will mostly be focused on Lincoln, but each sister will have their chapter. I already planned every sister's personal character arc, with some (if I may), interesting developments. This particular chapter is focused on... I won't say it, but her name starts with "L".

And ends up with "ucy".

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Chapter 4:Masquerades

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The teacher was reading, but as it usually happened, Lucy wasn't paying any attention.

Her teachers just let her be. Mostly because they were afraid of whatever occultist ritual she might use against them if they made her angry, but also because Lucy Loud was a special case in the third grade class. She was one of the few kids from this new generation that seemed more interested in reading books than playing with her cell phone. This, at such an early age, made a great difference. It was obvious that third grade's contents were no challenge for her. She read better than most kids her age –and most older kids aswell–, she had great imagination and her reading comprehension was impeccable. Maybe she wasn't the best in math, but her literature works, the subject she was in at the moment, were outstanding.

Maybe that's why it was a little odd that during the entire class the girl hadn't stop looking through the window, not even listening to the poems her teacher was reading. Her ignoring Marianne Moore's poems was something. But to not even pay attention to Wilfred Owen's spooky war poems? That was new.

"Alright, everyone, we've already read some famous, great poems. Do any of you know a poem that you'd like to share with the class?" Asked the teacher.

Most of her students remained in silence. Some of them didn't actually know any poem, while others were ashamed of reciting a poem in front of their classmates. A girl then raised her hand, anxious to share what she knew.

"Hannah. Do you know a poem?"

"Yes. The rose is red, the violet's blue. Sugar is sweet, and so are you."

"Very well, Hannah! I think we all know some version of that poem. It's a really pretty poem, don't you think? Anyone else?"

Tentatively, a boy raised his hand.

"Robbie? Do you want to share a poem?"

"Well… It's a poem my mom once read to me, but..."

"Come on, Robbie, don't be embarrassed."

Robbie blushed and recited the poem without looking at anyone.

"All thoughts, all passions, all delights, whatever stirs this mortal frame, all are but ministers of love, and feed his sacred flame."

The girls all let out a love sigh, while the boys were pretending they were throwing up.

"That's a beautiful poem, Robbie. Coleridge, I think? Good one. Anyone else? No one?"

Lucy kept looking through the window, completely ignoring her class. She kinda heard what they were talking about, but she wasn't interested in participate, and she wasn't even trying to dissimulate neither. Teachers usually didn't bother her. And right then, she didn't wanted to be bothered. Logically, her need to remain undisturbed, alone with her thoughts, was automatically responded with an immediate interruption.

"What about you, Lucy? I'm sure you must have a poem to share with us", said the teacher.

As someone who tried very hard to conceal her emotions, Lucy knew very well how to read them. She knew her teacher was slightly worried, and somewhat doubtful, as if she wasn't really sure about this being a good idea. She also noticed the quick exchange of looks between her classmates. She could almost hear what were they thinking: 'Here comes the freak'.

She didn't care. She had long ago abnegated such banal things as her feelings. Her classmates appreciation, or the lack of it, was of no concern for her at all. What's some children dislike compared to the dichotomy of life and death? Or with the dilemma of the existence of the soul? What use did it had to try and be loved by others, if they were all inevitably heading to the endless void of darkness that was the eternal oblivion of death? They could hate her, they could call her a freak, for their words produced no harm.

She didn't need to be loved.

"Well? Do you have a poem, Lucy?"

With a loud sigh, she stood up in her seat. She had a lot of poems, indeed. Most of them were from her own authorship, but she didn't wanted to share her inner thoughts with the rest of the class. They were unworthy. She would give them some cliche thing, something to satisfy her teacher. She had this Edgar Allan Poe poem that was a total classic. She opened her mouth and her mind was ready to recite it just like she had been doing in her room so many times.

Lucy surprised herself, however, when from deep inside her chest –the place where her heart would be, if she had one–, a piece of a poem escaped through her lips. It was a poem she once read, and it had become instantly one of her favorites. It was just so sad to thing about it, so emotional and so blue, that she could not love it.

"Music I heard with you was more than music, and bread I broke with you was more than bread. Now that I am without you all is desolate, all that was once so beautiful is dead."

The noise from other classrooms, muffled by the walls, and the reverberating sound of cars driving down the street was the only thing that could be heard. The teacher was worryingly looking at her. Her classmates understood the main theme of the poem and were a little shocked, and some found themselves containing their laugh. They wouldn't say anything right then; not in front of the teacher. They all knew, however, that during recess they were going to be talking about how much of a freak was Lucy Loud once again.

When she finally sat down on her chair and the metal slid on the floor's ceramics, the teacher reacted.

"Wow, Lucy, that was… I mean, it was really well recited. That's… Fantastic, yes, yes. Very well, uh, everybody write down your homework, please: next class, you must all bring a poem that has at least two strophes, and you must write what you feel when you're reading it."

Lucy wrote down that simple homework and once again looked through the window.

No one bothered her again for the rest of the class.

As soon as the recess bell rang, Lucy took her notebook. Moving as only she knew, she managed to get out of her classroom and into the playground without been seen. She sat with her back against her favorite tree, the one that was farthest from the rest of the kids, and started to write. She wasn't always writing poems. Sometimes, she just opened her notebook and let her wrist write in prose, without thinking about the syllables and the rhymes. She let the words flow, her thoughts manifesting on the paper. Anyone would call that notebook a diary, but she thought that word was implying something more girlish. She didn't have a better name, though.

That morning, Lucy wrote a small, two paragraphs introspective essay. She wrote without checking, no worrying about coherence or anything. It was her soul that was leading her hand.

"Sometimes, no matter how hard we try to conceal things, they end up revealing themselves. It doesn't matter how hard we try, the tell-tale heart beats will be heard over the concrete and boarding of our skin. In greek theaters, the masks were something that actors used so the audience could recognize the characters from their seats, but they also amplified their voices, so they could be heard. It seems kinda contradictory. They hid the actor, they gave him the luxury of anonymity, but they also made it possible to connect with the audience. What's the point then? Do our masks only exist so we can connect better? What about what's under our masks?

For years, I've been adopting the beyond as my refuge. I see, immutable, shows my older sisters couldn't stand without screaming. I read poems my teachers couldn't read without crying. I think about things most people try to avoid afraid of the conclusions they might arrive. I feel comfortable in depressing environments, filled with sadness, pain and death. I've adopted darkness as my ally, my refuge. I live convinced that this is what I am. And yet, I found myself once again asking me if this is nothing but a big, complicated masquerade. If this is who I really am. Because if it is, if I truly renounced to my emotions, then why it hurts so much to know my brother's in the hospital?"

She was just writing the question mark when a ball came bouncing a few feet from her. Slightly raising her gaze from her notebook, she saw an older boy approaching, maybe from fourth of fifth grade. He smirked and picked up the ball.

"Hey, vampire. How come the sun hasn't burned you yet?"

Lucy ignored him. She was very good ignoring what other people said.

"Oh, I know, you must have your sunscreen, that's why you're so pale!"

His provocations were less witty and funny than Luan's jokes, which was saying a lot. Lucy kept ignoring him, writing about how she'd love to have a box of pins and a voodoo doll. She was drawing a doodle about that doll when the boy stepped closer and took her notebook from her hands.

Lucy remained still. From the outside, she was as emotionless as always, like a statue. But on the inside, she was angry. And scared.

"Give it back", she said, with the same tone she used with her classmates when she wanted to scare them. It also worked with her sisters. But not with that boy standing in front of her.

"Ooh, spooky", he mocked. "Whatcha gonna do? Hex me?"

"You're dangerously walking beneath the Sword of Damocles. One misstep and the edge of its blade will fall upon you with the swift might of justice."

That had to do it, because she didn't know what else to do. It was the first time an older boy came to bully her. Despite the serenity on her words or how calm she looked, she was actually trembling inside. Who would help her? She didn't have any friends to stand up for her. Lola and Lana would totally do it, and she was pretty sure they could take that bully down in a second, but their playground was too far away from that tree. In moments like that, being all alone was starting to lose its appeal. She could only hope for her dark and monotonous words to scare or at least confuse the boy, so he decided to leave her alone.

Unfortunately, the boy started to laugh.

"What does that even mean? I literally have no idea what you've just said."

"Sigh. The inferior mind, rejoicing in its own ignorance."

"Did you just called me and ignorant?"

"Wow. Maybe you do understand English after all", she said.

"Listen, you freak", said the boy, stepping forward. "I'll give you five seconds to apologize. Otherwise, I'm gonna..."

He didn't get to finish his phrase. After a thud, a punch that left him out of air and some judo grabbing, the boy ended up on the ground, his face mere centimeters away from a very angry girl face. Lucy couldn't fully control her emotions, and her mouth opened with surprise. She looked at the girl that was defending her.

"Ok, now you listen carefully. You're gonna drop that book, stand up, and you'll run away as fast as you can until I can't see that ugly face of yours. And you better keep away from this little girl. If you dare to even look at her in a hostile way, I'll leave your face so unrecognizable, your parents will have to check your dental records to be sure its you. Let everyone know: Lucy Loud is off the limits to your stupid pranks and bully bullshit. Was I clear?"

"Y-yes!" Said the boy, almost wetting his pants.

"Then what the heck are you still doing here?!" Yelled the girl, raising her fist.

With a very girly scream, the boy stood up and ran away. The girl took Lucy's notebook and, after shaking off the dust, she handed it to her.

"Here you got."

Lucy finally snapped out from her surprise and her face was all serious once again.

"Thanks", she said, grabbing her notebook and pressing it against her chest.

"You're welcome. That bully won't be messing with young girls anymore", she proudly said, waiting some comment from Lucy.

But that comment never came, for the gothic girl had just remembered the girl in front of her.

"I think I didn't introduce myself", said the girl, trying to carry the conversation. She extended her hand with a smile. "I'm..."

"Ronnie Anne", interrupted Lucy. "You punched my brother's right eye a few weeks ago."

"Oh", she said, losing her smile. "Well, I… He… It's complicated, but he sort of forgave me. We're cool now… I mean, we're like..."

"He talks a lot about you."

"What? Really? What does he says?" She asked, happily and excited, before regaining her cool pose. "I mean, yeah? Not that I care, of course."

"I heard him talking with Lori. He says you're rough, extrovert and the toughest girl he knows. But he also says you're funny, and really easy-going when you want to. He sounded very happy when he mentioned that you're really sensitive inside."

Lucy noticed how quickly Ronnie Anne was blushing.

"Yeah, well, aren't we all?"

Lucy didn't answer her. She kept looking at that girl. Like everyone else, she seemed a little nervous, but not because she was scared of her. It was like she was waiting for something, like she had something to say but didn't know how to phrase it. Out of curiosity, Lucy decided to keep the conversation going.

"Thank you for helping me with that bully. Good thing you were walking around here."

"Well, actually… I was kinda looking for you", said Ronnie Anne, grabbing her arm and looking down. "See, your brother didn't come to class, and his friend Clyde doesn't know where he is either. And… He's worried, you know? Clyde. He's his best friend, and… Well, I thought that maybe I could find out what happened, so I can tell him, right? So..."

"Lincoln is sick", simple said Lucy.

Ronnie Anne's face adopted a worried look.

"Sick? Like, really sick, or just-the-flu sick?"

Lucy would've answered her, but she didn't really know the answer. The right thing to do was probably just tell her the truth, that Lincoln was hospitalized since yesterday morning, and they had no news about him. That they haven't even heard about him or his parents since at least twelve hours. The girl looked really concerned, and Lincoln would probably be ok with telling his friends what was going on. But if Ronnie Anne cared about Lincoln as much as Lucy thought she did, then telling her all this would just make her worry. And Lucy knew first hand how awful it was to be that worried about a loved one.

"He may not come to school for a few days. But he's okay."

Ronnie Anne relaxed a little after hearing that.

"Oh, great. I mean, that he's okay. Well, I'll… I guess I'll go tell Clyde. HE was worried, y'know?", she said, emphasizing the "he".

"Don't worry. Your concern will remain a secret, just like this whole conversation" assured her Lucy, while she opened her notebook again.

Both girls remained in silence, Lucy writing and Ronnie Anne standing, not knowing if she should say something else or just go. Right then, the bell rang. Lucy closed her notebook and stood up. She walked past Ronnie Anne, without saying a word.

"Hey", she called her.

Lucy turned to look at her.

"If someone picks on you again, just tell them they're gonna have to deal with me, alright?" Said Ronnie Anne, with a smile. "I'm the only one who can mess with a Loud."

For the first time that day, Lucy let her lips curve into a smile.

"Indeed, you are. Thank you."

She walked away thinking about this rude, aggressive girl, so caring and worried about Lincoln. Lucy wondered if Ronnie Anne was aware of her own masks. Maybe they had more in common than it seemed.

"Lori better gets here soon, I need to work on my make up", said Lola, looking herself in a mirror.

"You just worked on you make up an hour ago", told her Lana, as she was hugging a frog she had found on the playground.

"Duh, a princess is always working on her make up. Perfection requires maintenance."

"You know what your skin requires? Frog slime!" She yelled, chasing her twin.

While the twins were running and screaming around the school's entry, Lucy was sitting in the stairs, waiting for the family van to show up so they could all go home. She repressed a smile when she saw it coming down the street. But the impulse to smile only lasted an instant, as she immediately noticed Lori wasn't driving it with all her older sisters from High and Middle School. It was her father, driving an apparently empty van.

"Daddy!" Yelled both twins, dropping their little persecution.

Mr Loud hugged her daughters.

"We missed you!", the twins said.

"I missed you too, girls", he assured them. "Now, why don't you get in the van so we can go home?"

"How's Lincoln?" Asked Lana.

"Can we go to see him?" Asked Lola.

Mr Loud stood up and opened the van door, showing that Lisa was already there.

"Of course we're gonna visit him. But the visit schedule is later. If you want to go, you'll have to behave and do all your homework, okay?"

"Yes!" Said both, getting in the car without fighting.

"Lucy! Come here, sweety!"

She entered the van and sat on the nearest seat to the driver. As soon as her father drove away from the school, she started asking him questions.

"Why didn't Lori came here to pick us up like usual?"

"I offered to do it", he answered, trying to downplay it.

"And why aren't you at work?"

"Because I asked for a day off."

"Why?"

Her father's sigh told her that he was getting tired of the questions. But there was also some… guilt in it? Why was he feeling guilty? Was he lying to her?

"Listen, your brother's in the hospital and… Well, your mother is staying with him, to make him some company. And I… I thought it was better if I took a day off, alright?"

"Where are Lori and the others?"

"Home."

"How did they get there so fast? Didn't they went to school?"

"Lucy, I'm driving. We'll talk when we're home."

Maybe it was how stern he tried to sound. Maybe because she was getting tired too of asking questions. Or maybe it was the resignated and sad tone underneath his voice that did it, but whatever it was, it made Lucy stay quiet for the rest of the drive.

When they finally reached their house, their father told them that Lori was making lunch, and it would be ready real soon. The twins decided that nothing would cheer Lincoln up more than some drawings, so they ran to their room to prepare their art, which probably meant a lot of crayons, glitter and glue. Lucy stood still on the hall.

Something was odd.

She didn't know what it was, but as soon as she stepped inside the house she noticed something. Like a different energy. A different atmosphere, as if the daily energy had suffered a major change. It was hard to explain. She knew that lunch was going to be ready soon, but she still took her notebook and a flashlight, ready to go into the vents to try and write something. Her day, that had already started with enough problems, had managed to make her even more worried. She urgently needed a comfy dark, close space were she could write her poems undisturbed. Before going up the vents, she tried the flashlight. Obviously, the batteries were spent. She started looking through her room, but she didn't find any.

When she walked next to the window, she saw something in the backyard. She cautiously looked and saw Lynn standing in front of her punching bag, the one she used to practice her martial arts. Although it was her roommate and she should be used to it by now, Lucy couldn't help herself to be surprised at the energy her sister had. Like right then. If the punching bad had a pain sensor, it would've thrown the towel at least six times in the few seconds Lucy had been watching. Lynn was throwing punches, kicks, knee strikes and elbows at an incredible speed, not even stopping for a second. Lucy had never seen her practice with such violence. She usually made more paused movements, more serene maybe. She really looked like a real karate master, specially when she was wearing…

Lucy turned around to look at Lynn's pile of sports equipment. Her karategi was right there, on top of it. That was really weird. Lynn always practiced with her karate suit on, even when she was doing kick boxing or something like that. She said that everyday clothes could not stand that kind of energy. She looked at her sister once again. She was now extremely close to the punching bag, applying a series of short but strong punches, like she was trying to mess up with its liver or something. She slowly began speeding down, until her arms were just hanging from her body. She had her forehead resting on the punching bag. Judging by the way her chest was moving, she seemed to be really out of breath. Well, there was another explanation, but Lucy knew Lynn was a really tough girl, even more than Ronnie Anne. She was probably just catching her breath.

Since there were no batteries in her room, Lucy sighed, knowing she'd have to ask one of her sisters. The first thing she did was going to the room right across the hall. Lily was sleeping in her baby crib, while Lisa was reading a big blue book that was titled "Neuroscience IV: Complex brain disorders".

As soon as Lucy entered the room, Lisa's wristwatch started to beep. She immediately looked up from her book and saw her sister. Lucy sighed. She couldn't scare Lisa, not since her wristwatch had an alarm everytime she entered the room where she was in.

"Hi, Lisa."

"I'm sorry, I do not possess triple-A batteries, nor double-A, nor A, or any other energy source based on zinc and manganese dioxide", she said, continuing to read her book.

Lucy sighed.

"How did you know I was looking for batteries?"

"You have an off flashlight in your hands and you seem to have adopted dark places as your preferred habitat. It doesn't require a genius to figure it out."

With nothing else to add, Lucy walked away from the room. She knew that asking Leni was a waste of time, and Lori was cooking. So she went straight to Luna and Luan's room. Luna's guitar was sounding loud and clear across the hallway. Since she was probably too focused on what she was playing, Lucy carefully opened the door, and entered the room as stealthy as possible. She had perfected the act of sneaking in behind her siblings in order to scare them. With a quick move, she was right next to the wardrobe, behind Luna, and facing her sister's bunk beds.

She was about to touch Luna's shoulder, hopefully scaring her, when she noticed two things. First, Luan was lying on her bed facing the wall. She didn't have her headphones, her camera nor her computer, and she didn't seem to be looking at her cell phone. What was she trying to do? Get some sleep? She would never do that, not with Luna playing six feet from her. And that was the other thing she noticed, Luna's music. It wasn't unusual for her guitar to sound clean, with no distortion. But Lucy couldn't remember her older sister ever playing a song that was so… sad? A love ballad?

"Baby, why'd you leave me? Why'd you have to go? I was counting on forever, now I'll never know. I can't even breathe…"

Luna listened absolutely every musical genre known to men –and some known to zebras–, but she NEVER played country. Why was she singing such a sad song? The only thing that occurred to Lucy was that maybe Luna had a heartbreak. Was she seeing someone? The last thing she overheard from the vents was about some guy that, Luna thought, looked just like Billy Joey Legstrong, the lead singer of one of her favorite bands. Did something happened between them?

While Lucy kept wondering about it, Luna continued singing.

"It's like I'm looking from a distance, standing in the background, everybody's saying, he's not coming home now. This can't be happening to me… this is just a dream…"

The way she sang, the passion and energy she put in her strumming, and how her voice was cracking unsettled Lucy. If there was someone in the world who could feel the music and synchronize with it, it was definitely Luna Loud. But this… This felt too much personal. Lucy's sigh was unheard, hidden by her sisters's chords. Luna and Luan didn't even noticed the door opening once again.

Resignated to not getting her batteries, she decided to read in the tub, her second favorite place to be quiet. She entered the bathroom and positioned herself. She opened her notebook, placed the pencil on the paper, and waited for the words to flow. But they didn't. Although her mind was full of awful thoughts and sensations that practically granted a successful poem, she simply couldn't write. It might have been a writer's block, like she often had. But she actually knew that she was just too worried to write.

There was definitely something wrong going on, she was sure. It wasn't just about not having news from Lincoln. Something was wrong with her sisters. They all had their school clothes, and they had all prepared that morning to go to school. But there was no way that they could've arrived home, and THEN had their father drive to pick them little girls up. It made no sense and it was just something unachievable in that little time. It wasn't normal neither for Lori to cook lunch, nor for Lynn to practice without her karategi, nor for Luna to play such a sentimental country song, nor for to Luan to be just lying on her bed doing absolutely nothing. Something had happened. But what?

Then she heard a muffled noise coming from the vents. A few weeks ago, the Loud house had had an incident when, after eavesdropping on the vents, the siblings thought that their parents were getting rid of them. Since that day, they all had promised that they weren't going to eavesdrop again. But curiosity got the best of her. Lucy carefully left her notebook aside, and crawled near the vent's grating. It was undoubtedly her father's voice.

She should have ignored it. She should have walked away. She shouldn't have draw her ear closer to the vents, and she shouldn't have tried to understand him.

She shouldn't have heard him mourn.

"Why? Why him? Why my Lincoln?"

She shouldn't have heard him cry, and she shouldn't have put the pieces together.

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Luna's song was "Just a dream" by Carrie Underwood. Not her style, obviously, but we'll have better music as the fic progresses.

Next chapter we'll be back with Lincoln. And remember, any critic you want to make, good or "bad" (there are no "bad" critics) will be accepted. So go ahead, review! See you next chapter!