"Foster?" A weak voice mumbled. Sophie didn't think she'd ever sat up faster than she did at that moment, and when she met his eyes; God, when she met his eyes, she felt it all over again. She had to clench her jaw to keep from crying.

Slowly, unsure if she'd actually heard him, Sophie pulled back the white covers, slid her legs over the side of the bed, and stepped barefoot onto the cold tiled floor. "I'm here," she whispered, brushing away a mischievous tear that had slipt out.

Her legs were stiff as she walked the few feet to Keefe's cot. His eyes were still closed and he looked as if he was still asleep. Sophie wondered if she was delusional now, so in love with him that her mind was making her believe he was talking to her- that he even wanted to talk to her. Was this all fake– him waking up?

Would he ever wake up?

And if he did, who was to say that he would want to talk to her? Or even see her face becau–

"Foster," Keefe said again, this time as if her name was a breath he had been holding in, waiting to hear good news. Her name was his sigh of relief. He puffed out another breath of air, and then his eyes fluttered open.

And his eyes, oh God, his eyes. She didn't realize how much she had missed the blue wonders that they were. An icy blue, a cold color by nature, but not with Keefe. No, with Keefe it was the warmest, most welcoming, most beautiful blue she had ever seen. And she couldn't imagine them not being in her life. She was sure no one else in the world had as beautiful eyes as he did.

And she didn't want to lose them.

She finally pulled her eyes away from his and got up the nerve to answer him. "I'm here," she repeated.

It seemed to take a great deal of struggle, but Keefe smiled. He met her eyes and her heart surged up in her chest like an inflated balloon. She felt ecstatic. He had smiled at her, he was happy to see her.

He had put her life before his, and now, that he was okay, he could confidently meet her eyes and smile, dare she say, lovingly, at her.

Keefe swallowed slowly, and his eyes traveled her face as if he was memorizing it. Following the curve of her jaw, the blush on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and at last returning to her eyes. She watched him intently the whole time, waiting for a hint. Waiting for a response to her outburst.

To her declaration.

To her confession.

Before it happened.

Then he grunted and closed his eyes briefly. He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes once again they seemed pained with worry. He looked down at the IV connected to the top of his hand. Keefe's eyes furrowed in confusion, and he took a quick breath. In a hurry, he looked back at Sophie, then to the bed he was sitting in, and finally to the rest of the room.

He met her eyes again, his gaze questioning. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and then asked, "Foster, where are we?"

Now it was Sophie's turn to suck in a breath. "What do you mean 'where are we?' You... you," she couldn't bring herself to say it, "you don't remember what happened?" He nodded in agreement.

Was that why he smiled at her? He didn't remember?

"I just know that we heard gunshots. I– everything else is gone." He wouldn't meet her eyes now, and he fidgeted with the IV in his hand, making Sophie squirmish.

"You remember nothing? It's like... entirely gone?" Sophie couldn't believe it, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Was this a blessing or a curse? He didn't remember her confession– but was that such a good thing? What if, against all odds, he felt the same way? What if now, that he didn't remember, he would never know, and she would never know if there was ever a time. Keefe looked at his hands.

But what if he didn't, the more likely of the two objects? What if she lost everything?

That was worse.

"Yeah... it's all... black." Keefe coughed, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "could you... could you tell me what happened? Everything? I want my memory back." The way he said 'everything' made Sophie shudder, she couldn't tell him, she wouldn't. It would ruin everything.

This had to be a message from some greater force, that it was wrong. This was a do-over! Someone up there was saying, Hey, Sophie, that was bad. Here's a second chance.

And she was sure as heck going to take it.

"I– well, okay." Keefe scooched away from her in the bed a little and patted the mattress where he had made room for her. She pretended she didn't see and turned away from him. Facing her cot, with all of the medical instruments on her right. She couldn't see Keefe, she didn't want to.

He would question the tear in her eyes.

"I guess as you said, we were in the hallway," she gulped, hoping he wouldn't mention the tears she had shed and how he had asked 'what the Hell was wrong' with her, "and then, um, we heard the... the..." She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hospital gown.

"The gunshots?" Keefe added, helping her.

Always helping her, which ironically, was what had made her in need of help.

"Yeah– those. Always the hero you are, you pulled me into one of the empty classrooms," she giggled a little, but they weren't really giggles of happiness. There was sadness in them, he was going to be a hero for some other girl. He wasn't hers.

Sophie was quiet for a moment. Waiting for the thickness to clear from her throat. The tears from her eyes.

"Sophie?" Keefe asked, his voice tender.

"Sorry, it's just hard to think about I–"

He interrupted her, "don't apologize, Sophie. Don't ever apologize to me."

"Okay," she responded, her face wet from tears. "Okay..." she whispered again. She wouldn't dare look back at him, for fear he'd see right through her and know what she was hiding. "I guess, we went into the room and sat on the floor away from the door. You said we had to be away from the door because the shooter could shoot through it."

Keefe knew so much. He may have acted like just a prankster at school who didn't care about any of his classes, but Sophie knew him more than that. He was extremely intelligent and had a photographic memory– just like her.

But that was a coincidence, obviously. Sometimes she wanted to believe it was a hint at fate; that they were supposed to be together and the fact that they both had photographic memories was a clue.

"And then... well the door flew open. And the person... you know..."

"Is that it?" Keefe asked from behind her. Sophie nodded in agreement. "Sophie, turn around."

Sophie wiped her eyes feverishly and turned around to face him. "Sorry I'm so emotional I guess–"

"Sophie," Keefe interrupted her again.

"Oh sorry– I forgot you said..." Keefe smirked at her, and Sophie cracked a smile. The weight on her shoulders lifting for a minute.

"Are you sure that's all that happened, Foster?" Keefe, asked, using her nickname. "I don't know... I feel like we had a fight or something? You seem really fidgety."

Sophie sucked in a breath, "a fight?" Keefe nodded, "I don't seem to remember a fight... I uh..." Sophie sighed, he was waiting for something, she had to give him something that seemed important.

She tapped her foot in frustration, trying to decide what to do. After a moment, she went to Keefe's cot and sat next to him, not meeting his eyes.

She had two options right now. The first, tell Keefe a lie about what happened, the second, pick and choose what to tell Keefe. The third, of course, who be to tell him everything, as he had asked, but that was not a valid option.

Sophie decided to tell him some of it, to satiate his hungry questions. "So, you know how I'm adopted by Grady and Edaline?"

"Yeah," Keefe responded, "does this have something to do with your real parents?" Sophie mustered a 'mhm.'

Her eyes flickered up the ceiling and then back into her lap. She took a shaky breath. "They were killed in a shooting," she whispered, "at a restaurant. I– I was there."

She didn't dare look to see Keefe's reaction. Besides, she already knew how he reacted when he learned about it the first time.

He heard him take in a breath. "Oh god, I'm so sorry Sophie I didn't realize–"

"Don't apologize," she looked up and finally met his eyes, mimicking what he had said earlier. "Don't apologize, Sencen."

He smiled at her, and then pulled her into a hug.

Immediately her cheeks turned scarlet and the butterflies in her stomach started dancing. After a moment of hesitation, Sophie wrapped her arms around Keefe's neck. With her head pressed against his chest, and his chin resting on her hair, she couldn't have felt safer.

Of course, he pulled away too soon, and his eyes were pained. "That's all that happened?"

Sophie nodded determinedly, "that's all. Nothing more, nothing less."

He studied her face for a moment as if to give her a chance to say something else. "Okay," he said quietly.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Well, if you're feeling better, you probably want to get away from me 'cau–"

"No," she interrupted, "no, I don't want..." She saw the look on his face. He seemed defeated, depressed even. No longer was the joking boy she knew, Keefe was forlorn, saddened, by what?

"You... you good?" Sophie asked, reaching towards him. He leaned away from her touch– a knife in her heart. She looked down and bit her lip, pulling her arm back towards her. The cot squeaked its protest to their movement.

"What are you afraid of?" Keefe asked, breaking the eon of awkward silence.

"Huh?" Sophie's eyebrows scrunched together.

"What are you afraid of?" He repeated. Sophie looked around them, trying to find the answer to whatever he was asking.

"Goddamit, Sophie!" Keefe exclaimed, ripping the IV out of his hand and standing up. Sophie flinched and shrunk backward, her breathing rapid. Keefe ran his hand through his hair.

"What?" Sophie mumbled, almost incoherently.

"You said it already! You said it– and it made me feel... It made me ugh!" He dragged his hand down his face, clearly frustrated. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, "what's wrong with me that you're worried to say it again?"

Sophie's mouth widened, and she covered it with her hand. "You... you... didn't forget! You lied!" She stood angrily now, mad at how Keefe had taken advantage of her and made her relive it. "What the Hell, Keefe!"

She wanted to glare at him, but the tears clouded her vision and she could only see a Keefe-like blob. "God, I feel so violated," she sobbed.

"No– Sophie– please I... I wanted to give you the chance to take it back," he reasoned with her, biting his lip with worry.

"It doesn't seem that way!" She screamed in reply, "doesn't seem like you're letting me take it back right now does it! Here," she cried, whipping around and walking towards the door, "let's ask someone out there what they think!" She pointed out of their room, "Does what you did count as–" Keefe grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him, enveloping her in a hug.

Her emotions were at war with each other.

On one hand, it seemed that Keefe cared, that he had wanted her to say it, on the other hand, he had lied to her and played games with her mind. That wasn't cool.

"No," she declared, pulling back violently, "no, you don't get to hug me and make everything better. That isn't how this works."

"Why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not?!'" She yelled, flinging her hands in the air, "you don't get to play with my emotions like this! Why the Hell does it even matter to you if I–"

"I love you, Sophie."

What? She stopped midsentence and turned to Keefe, and asked, "why?"

Now it was his turn to ask, "huh?"

"Why? Why do you love me?" She questioned quietly, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Her mind in disbelief.

"I..." he sat down on Sophie's cot, and she followed suit. "Well, for one thing, you're the kindest most incredible person I've ever met. You have the best smile, and you always put others before yourself. You're funny and so oblivious, which is only cute sometimes." He reached towards her and held her face in his hands, "but the rest of you? It's always beautiful, inside and out."

"But... but..." Sophie couldn't believe what he was saying, "But Biana is so bubbly, and Fitz is charming, and Marella just has a unique personality 'cause she's so snarky, and I have... nothing." She sighed, and after a moment built up the confidence to look him in the eyes. "I'm good at school," she shrugged, "what does that get me? And besides, you guys are all going to college together next year and you're gonna forget about me anyway." A sob burst from her lips.

Keefe smiled softly at her, "I don't understand how you can look in the mirror and think all those things. Sure, Biana is bubbly beyond comparison, and Fitz is a charmer, but you... Sophie, when you laugh or smile, Hell, even when you stand still you have such a... a... light to you. You shine Sophie, and maybe you don't always make yourself smile, but you make everyone else smile. And..."

He stood from her bed and walked around to the end of it, smiling at her, his lovely eyes alight. He walked, barefoot, to a small table next to his cot that she hadn't realized before. When he came back, he was holding an envelope and his smartphone.

He handed her his phone. "Unlock it."

"I can't I don't know the passwo–"

"It's Foster."

"Oh."

She put in his password which revealed the homepage of his phone. A picture of her was the wallpaper. He instructed her to open his recording app, and she did what he asked. She clicked on the latest recording.

It started. The quality was horrible like it had been recording from inside someone's bag. She heard people shuffling around, and a door opening.

"Holy shhh...." A male voice said, "kid you okay?"

Then Keefe's voice answered, "I'm...okay..." muffled breathing, "is she okay?"

"Yeah, your friend is all good." Then a little further off, "Janet, I found two of them! We need medical assistance pronto!"

"Are you sure?" Keefe pushed, "She isn't moving."

"Kid, you were shot, your friend is fine, no blood or anything."

"But she..." more breathing, Sophie could tell that Keefe was trying to hang on. Tears poured freely from her eyes.

"All you have to do is worry about yourself, I need you to stay awake, alright, bud?"

"But Sophie... I love... I love Sophie... she has to be okay."

"She will be, and so will you as long as you do what we ask, okay?"

"Okay," Keefe agreed.

The recording stopped.

Keefe handed her the letter. She looked at him with adoration and love, tear stains down her cheeks.

With trembling hands, she took the letter from him and tore it open. It was an acceptance letter for Keefe. It was for the college she was going to. "Oh my god..."

"I've found that there are never enough minutes, and we need to take advantage of the time we have. I think... I think what happened was kind of a message for me. I'll never forget you, Sophie. If anything, I would be afraid you'd forget me."

"Never enough minutes," Sophie parroted, "I like that."

"Yeah."

"Take advantage of the time we have," Sophie looked up and met Keefe's eyes.

Then she kissed him.