First off, I would like to point out some things that will change in the history of the show. The biggest one will be that Osamu died in a plane crash and not in a car accident. Several other things will pop up from time to time, but as I haven't gotten to them yet, they will not be mentioned here.

Amnesia:

Losing it all

By Charbonne

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Digimon.

Ken Ichijouji gasped as his violet eyes swept over the screen he was reading. The page he had been reading seemed too true, but even then, there was no mistaking the image of the boy he was looking at. Osamu Ichijouji's picture was plastered to the page, looking quite cheerful despite the fact that he was having his picture taken. Osamu's violet eyes, nearly identical to his brother's, were alight with happiness, and the younger boy couldn't help but read the caption underneath the picture. 'Our little Genius.' Ken shook his head. It has to be a coincidence. There was no way that Sam could have survived the crash that took him away from his family. Besides, the boy was all the way in San Francisco. It could just be a boy that looked amazingly like his brother that lived in the same US state that Sam's plane crashed in.

Ken closed the window on his computer and recalled the conversation that he and his parents had after hearing about the plane crash. Sam had been going to America for an exchange student program and was going to be there for half the year. Ken remembered the day his brother left, Osamu telling him that there was nothing to worry about, that air travel was the safest mode of transportation. Then, a scant three days later, a phone call came in that changed his family. Osamu had been involved in a plane crash. The jetliner had run out of fuel, and would have made an emergency landing had it not been for the total lack of airports and clearing in the countryside. Engine trouble began, and the plane crashed into the forests. No one had survived. He remembered his parents telling him and him yelling at them that it wasn't true, that his oniichan was still alive, and that Sam was at his sponsor's house getting ready to call them. He had run from the room and didn't come back out until the funeral, which was held three days later. There had been no body found, and it was just a memorial service.

Now, four years later, Ken had been searching through the Internet when he found the teen's picture. The boy in the picture was gangly, and his indigo hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail, but there was no mistaking the striking resemblance to him and that of the brother Ken had lost. From what he had read, the American genius' name was Eric Prem, he was an orphan, and he seemed to suffer from retrograde amnesia. The site had his email address, but Ken was afraid that if he contacted the teen, the boy would think it was a sick joke and not respond. There was the slight chance that Osamu had survived and the boy was him, but Ken was unwilling to take the chance to find out. Besides, he had put his brother's memory to rest, so there was no reason to even think about digging up painful memories.

Ken was about to log off his computer when he heard a beep that meant that he had received an email. Frowning, the blue-haired boy looked at who had sent the email when his jaw dropped in total amazement. His hand shaking, Ken opened the message and started to read:

Hi! I guess this is kind of a bit weird, but I happened to be browsing the Internet when I found your picture. I would have just ignored it, but something about the way you looked must have triggered something in my brain, because I have the slightest suspicion that I know you. My foster parents agreed that maybe it would help if I contacted you, but I hope that sending this email wasn't a mistake, that talking to you would help my already missing memory.

I should start by introducing myself. I'm Eric Prem. I know it'll sound strange, but for some reason, I don't think that is what I used to go by. My parents think that it's strange for me to be able to speak fluently a foreign language, but it comes a lot easier to me than English. I am sixteen years old, and I live in San Francisco, USA. I guess that people consider me a genius, but when I read about you online, I found out that you are also one. I also read that you lost a brother four years ago, and that's about as far back as my memory goes. I can't tell you where I was born or whether or not Eric is my real name, because that's still a total mystery to me.

I hope you reply, because I really want to know if maybe I found someone connected to my past. I enclosed a recent picture, in case that helps. I hope to hear from you soon!

Eric

Ken shut the window quickly, feeling as though something heavy dropped into his stomach. There was no way that Eric had known he had read about him, was there? Ken wasn't too sure, but something told him that the boy wouldn't stop harassing him until he got a response. Ken shut his eyes and rubbed them. He wasn't about to go to sleep yet, it was only five o'clock in the afternoon, but he suddenly felt tired. Maybe it's all the studying I've been doing lately, he thought. I've got only three more weeks until finals, and then I'll worry about this Eric stuff later. He shut his computer down and decided to go downstairs to help with dinner.

***

On the other side of the world, a blue-haired boy logged off his own computer. He had been searching for a newspaper article to translate for his Cambodian language classes, but the article he found troubled him the most. Eric was just about to shake it off as a bad case of déja-vu, but something about the Japanese boy in the picture made him reconsider. Ken Ichijouji seemed too familiar to just ignore completely, and he just couldn't help but think of how that picture seemed inaccurate. For some strange reason, he could imagine Ken younger, standing outside on a terrace blowing bubbles with him. Eric had sent an email, hoping that maybe the Japanese teen would respond, and now he was wondering if maybe he made a mistake, that it was just a coincidence that made him think of the mental image. For one, he couldn't even remember ever being outside the United States, even though the town of Tamachi seemed familiar. For another reason, his parents could have been of Japanese descent. There was no way that the boy would know him.

He glanced at the alarm clock beside his bed. The glowing red numbers announced it was already two in the morning, but Eric hadn't been able to sleep that well. A nightmare had woken him up, one that involved a lot of screaming, loud noises, and pain. Lots of pain. He was also experiencing a migraine; probably resulting from the large head injury he received when he lost his memory. He adjusted the glasses that adorned his face and realized that he would have to take the medication that offered relief from the pain, but, as usual, he hesitated on taking them. He always found it harder to concentrate when he took his medicine, and avoided it as often as he could. The only times his headaches became unbearable were when he had the recurring nightmare. Hence the reason he would probably take them tonight.

He stood up from his computer and made his way down the hallway to the bathroom. His mom was asleep, but his dad hadn't come home from work yet. He was a surgical technician, which resulted in him always having to work the graveyard shift. Eric didn't mind, although it meant that after nine o'clock every night his father wasn't around. Both his parents were Cambodian, his father, David, being born and raised in California, while his mom Chhoeun was born in Cambodia and immigrated to America. His mother could only speak her native tongue, making it harder for him to understand sometimes, but since he was learning the language anyway, it helped a lot. When he first entered the class, the other teens thought he was just out to get an easy A, but later found out differently when he accidentally started spouting off in Japanese.

He took his medicine, and when he made it to his bed, he found himself tired. Maybe sleep wasn't as far off as he thought.

***

The first thing Eric was aware of the next morning was an incessant ringing in his ear. He reached over and found the alarm clock easily, pressing the snooze button. He snuggled down into his covers again, drifting back to sleep, when he found the covers being ripped off him. He moaned, reaching for the covers again, but found himself fully awake as his mother started speaking in rapid Cambodian. "…nani?" he mumbled, trying to understand what she was saying.

"She's telling you to get up. You're late for school." Eric bolted up suddenly, suddenly aware of who was speaking.

He moaned. His dad was standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. "Dad? Don't tell me mom woke you up, too?"

"No, I just got off work. Did you sleep well, Eric? You don't usually sleep in this late…" David stated, sounding worried.

"I had to work on something, and I didn't get to bed until late," the teen explained. He stood up; about ready to get dressed, until he found his mom reading the printout of the translated article. "Mom?"

"Who's Ichijouji Ken?" his mom asked.

He understood her, but turned to his dad to explain. "Actually, it's Ken Ichijouji. They put the last name before the first. I decided to do a translation of a Japanese article instead of English, so the paper has all three languages."

His dad frowned as he read the sheet. "It says that his brother died in a plane accident in Cali?"

"Yeah, why?" Eric scrunched up his face as he put on his glasses to read the article.

"Um, well…" David began. Eric suddenly wondered what the matter was.

"Nani?"

"Eric, you were found a couple of days after the accident. You were in a coma for two weeks, but the only language you could speak was Japanese when you woke up…" His dad was watching his reaction, but all Eric could think of was the dream, with the screaming and pain. He scrunched up his face as the migraine from that night returned. "You ok?"

Eric started to nod, but the pain intensified with the movement. He tottered unsteadily on his feet until he found the ground rushing up to meet him. He lost consciousness shortly afterward.

***

"Shimatta!" Ken swore as he bounded up the last few flights of stairs to his apartment. He had to talk to his teacher about his unusual behavior during class, and afterward, he was late to a meeting with the other digidestined after school. His backpack weighed him down with all of the homework he had to do that night, but the blue-haired teen ignored the weight as he ran. He was almost to the door when it opened up to reveal his mom escorting a police officer out. His eyebrows furrowed with anxiety as he stopped, almost colliding with the man. "What's going on?"

His mom looked like she had been crying, rivulets of tears coursing down her face. "Ken," she said quietly, "It's about your brother…"

Ken felt his blood run cold. "What about Sam?"

"He's not dead. Oh, god, he's not dead…" Toyoko Ichijouji suddenly grabbed her son into a bone breaking hug. He backed away, looking from his mom to the officer and back.

"I thought he was dead…" Ken muttered uncertainly, but suddenly an image of the American teen popped into his head. "No, it can't be him…"

"Can't be who?" the officer asked.

Ken turned to the older man and frowned. "His name now wouldn't happen to be Prem Eric, would it?" He watched as the officer nodded slowly.

"That's what it said on the report. A Cambodian couple adopted him, and when they realized that Eric's twelve-year-old description matched that of your Osamu, they decided to report it in and see if it was true. It was actually a Japanese article about you that made them realize it."

"Then it's true he's got amnesia?" Ken asked. He didn't want to make his mom worry, but he had to know.

The officer nodded slowly. "A severe case. He doesn't remember anything before the accident, I'm afraid." The officer watched Ken start to shake. "Are you alright, son?"

Ken started to nod, but ended up shaking his head. "Does dad know?" he asked.

"No, but I left my business card with your mom for when she tells him. I'm Detective Murata Kei. If you need to call me, my number's on the card. I have to go now. Sayonara." With that, the detective left.

Ken turned toward his mom, who was wringing her hands, and smiled sadly. His oniichan was coming home, but Ken doubted he remembered any of them. "Hey mom," he said quietly, "he didn't happen to have a recent photo, did he?"

Toyoko shook her head. "He said one was down at the station and that he would bring it by tomorrow."

"I have a picture, if you want to see it." Ken said slowly.

"Ken, dear, where'd you get a picture?" His mom looked at him curiously.

"Sam emailed me about four days ago."

"He did? Why didn't you tell me or your father?"

Ken shrugged. "I didn't realize it was him. He looked like him, and he said he recognized me from somewhere. I didn't make the conclusion that it was Sam because I thought he was dead."

Toyoko nodded. "Well, I guess we'll go see that picture now, right?" Ken nodded, and the two of them made their way into the apartment.

***

Eric fumed as he looked from the downcast gaze of his mom to the tired look of his father. "What do you mean, I'm the Ichijouji's son?" He was hoping he had just heard wrong, and that they were just pulling his leg. Just pulling his leg. There was no way that the boy he emailed in Tamachi could be his brother. It just didn't make sense. "Ha ha, nice joke. I mean, you guys have got to come up with something original." He tried smiling, but somehow his father wasn't reciprocating the smile. "Dad? Mom?"

"Look, had we realized that you already had a family, we would have contacted them. It wasn't until we got a description of Osamu Ichijouji that we realized that your description of when you were younger matched his." David watched his son throw up his hands in anger. "Look, I know you're frustrated…"

"Frustrated is not the word I'd choose for it, dad." The last word dripped with sarcasm. "How the heck am I supposed to react when you find out your family who you didn't know and they didn't look for you suddenly want you back? Why did you and mom do something like that?"

"Because we talked, and if it had been the other way around and we had lost a son and found out a boy matching his description was alive, we'd want to know that someone else out there would do the same." David reached out a hand and placed it on the boy's shoulder, but Eric shrugged it away. "Eric…"

"What's going to happen now? They live in a whole other country. Would that mean I have to go to Japan?" Eric could barely perceive the small nod of his father. "I don't believe this…" the bluenette muttered, throwing up his hands in anger. "I'm going to my room." With that, the teen stormed out of the room, ignoring his parents' pleas to talk to them.

He flopped down on his bed and tried to picture the family he might be going to. He gave up when all he could draw was a blank. How was he supposed to even think of going to this new family without even the slightest idea of what they might be like? He only knew about Ken, and that wasn't very descriptive. What if he had other siblings? He shook his head. No, that can't be right. The article only spoke of one sibling, and apparently he was him. What about other relatives? Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins? How did they act? Would they accept him for the way he acted now? Would any of them, for that matter?

Then Eric's thoughts turned dark. Why was he in the US, when the rest of his family was in Japan? He knew that Ken's brother - him now - had died in a plane crash. Why was he on a plane? Was he trying to get away from his family? On the other hand, was it something else, like there were relatives here in the state that wanted to see him and only him? Was he in protective custody to get away from them, like he was being beaten or something? He had seen lash marks on his back before, but he supposed that they had been there when he lost his memory. What if they had caused them? Eric's imagination kept on spinning off crazy ideas about his family, his parents always faceless, while Ken, the only one that had a face, watched with impassive eyes.

He had to stop thinking like this, he thought firmly. There was no way his family could be as bad as he thought they were. Besides, he would be finding out soon enough. He was going to live with them, and besides, he hoped that he was allowed to still see the Prems. Then he got an idea. He got up and started shuffling through his desk. He finally found a notebook with the words My Memories on it. His psychiatrist had suggested that if he had ever remembered anything to write it down as well as any emotions or thoughts that came with the memory. Now he had a new use for the notebook.

He sat down at the desk, the notebook open before him. Questions started swarming in his head, making it hard to distinguish which he would write down. He ignored them and wrote down the first one that came to mind. Who am I? It was a simple question, but entirely too broad. He was Eric Prem, but then again, he was also Osamu Ichijouji, two halves of the same coin. He knew nothing about his life before the accident, and therefore the name seemed alien. He knew he had a family, knew that his brother was also a genius, but that was as far as his thinking permitted. He crossed out the question and then wrote another one.

What's my family like? That too was hard to answer, but at least it was an answerable question. He was going to be living with his new family, so he would know firsthand what they were like. The only memory so far of his family had been the brief flash of Ken Ichijouji standing outside with him blowing bubbles. Even that memory could be faulty. They could have been in a lot of fights, and his brother could be glad that he died. He might even be disappointed that Eric had even survived. Eric realized that that couldn't be right. He hoped his family wasn't that way. Nevertheless, the thoughts continued to run through his mind until he clamped down on them. No, he thought resolutely, he wouldn't think of his family like that. They couldn't be as bad as he thought they were. There was just no way.

He finally resolved on one question, the one that had been bothering him ever since he had come out of the coma so many years ago. What is my mind hiding from me? He never could find a way to figure out the question for himself, so he never thought about it for himself. It wasn't until he saw the picture of Ken Ichijouji that he started wondering what other memories like that were in his head, hidden until he could find something to trigger them. If he went to Japan to find the answers, would all of them come out of hiding? No one knew what it was like, or what he was going through. They had never had gaping holes in their memory from an incident that happened years ago. What if being around the family he never knew triggered memories that were too horrific to think about? What if he finally remembered what had made him lose his memory, and worse, left him in such a state that he was no longer able to function in normal society?

***

Two weeks later found Eric at the airport. His family had to get a passport for him, and as he sat there waiting for the plane to come in, he wondered anew of the situation he was getting himself into. His mother was sitting next to him, wringing her hands in a vain attempt to quell her anxiety. Eric managed a brief smile for her before returning to his thoughts. There was a lump in his throat as he found himself wondering about the plane ride. Why was the thought of boarding the plane frightening to him? He shook off his anxiety as an announcement finally stated that the plane to Japan was finally boarding. "Don't worry," he heard his mom saying quietly to him. "Your father will be catching the next plane to Japan. He just has to tie up a few loose ends at work." His mom was speaking slowly for his benefit, but his father wasn't the reason he was so anxious. The plane was.

His hands were trembling when he handed his ticket to the guy collecting them. "Seat twenty-three in coach," the man said lazily as he read the paper. "In the back to the left."

He nodded to the man before entering the airlock to the plane. Why was he being so nervous? He knew that air travel was safer than a car, so why did the thought of going into the plane terrify him. He barely heard the man saying her seat number to his mother, so he waited up to translate what he had said to his mom. He was trying to delay the inevitable, he realized, and after translating started to walk swiftly through the airlock to the plane. He could already feel a crushing sensation in his chest. He took several deep breaths before finding his seat. It was near the window. His heart sank. How was he going to ignore whatever he was afraid of if he could look out the window? He tried to ignore the stares he was getting as he quickly put his bag in the overhead compartment and sat down, managing to shut his window as he did so.

His mom gave him a questioning look as she sat down beside him. Eric ignored the look as he tried to concentrate on not hyperventilating. Breath in, breath out. He barely heard the stewardess telling everyone to buckle up. He did so. Breath in, breath out. There was absolutely nothing to be afraid of as long as he kept his mind off of it. Shutting his eyes, he tried to picture himself somewhere else. He couldn't block out, however, the sound of the engines starting. His eyes snapped open in shock and he jumped in his seat.

People were definitely staring at the boy now, and Eric found himself sinking in the seat. The stewardess stared at him when she came by, then handed something to his mother. Eric looked at what she was holding. He frowned suddenly. Sleeping pills? He looked over at his mother, who started speaking in rapid Cambodian. "Uhh, mom?" Eric asked, not understanding a word she said.

His mother slowed down. "To help calm you down. Your father and I didn't even realize that you would be terrified of flying, but then again, we didn't even consider your family would want to see you after all this time."

Eric nodded, taking the packet of pills from her. "Thanks," he muttered quietly. Chhoeun patted him gently on the shoulder, then gave him the glass of water that the stewardess had also given her.

"Thankfully she spoke Cambodian, otherwise she wouldn't have understood me. I tried to get some tea, but they didn't have any." Eric popped the pills into his mouth, taking them as he listened to her. After a while, he started feeling drowsy. Noticing that he wasn't able to concentrate on what his mom was saying, he fell into a blissful sleep.

***

Ken was trying to help his father move stuff around in his room. His brother was going to be coming home tomorrow, and Ken was adjusting his room so that Osamu's stuff would fit. No, he thought. Not Osamu, Eric. His name was Eric now. He had to get used to the idea of calling his older brother that now, since he was obviously going to respond to that more readily than the other. Ken rubbed his eyes. Since when did his life get so complicated, he wondered? It was never this much trouble. Then again, that was before he became the Digimon Kaiser.

Wormmon crawled in, carrying what seemed to be a box of books. Ken took the box from the digimon, placing it down on the desk. They were Osamu's favorite books, and, hopefully, could jog Eric's memory. They had been reorganizing the room to look almost like it did when he was still living there. The room felt strange and foreign to Ken now, almost like from an old memory. He still had several more recent things sitting around, but they were his pictures of his friends. His father had said that he could still keep those out. He didn't have to put them away. Even so, the room was just as Ken remembered it to be four years ago, minus things that they couldn't get due to the plane crash.

Ken lay back onto his bed while his dad said something about ordering out for dinner. Yoshida left the room, leaving Ken to his thoughts. Too much is changing lately, he thought. First he changed from being a jackass then he got friends. Okay, so maybe they weren't bad changes, but they were changes nonetheless. Of course, Miyako would never let him forget that he started dating her, either. He smiled a bit. Then the smile turned upside down as he thought about the latest change. His brother. How was he going to react when they got to know each other?

He rolled over onto his side when Wormmon crawled up onto the bed. "Ken?" the green digimon asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," came the muffled reply. "Just peachy."

"This wouldn't be because of your brother, would it?" Wormmon asked, his blue eyes looking at the back of the boy's head.

Ken turned over, looking at Wormmon as he did so. "Wormmon, did you have any brothers or sisters?"

Wormmon clicked his mandibles. "You know digimon don't have any siblings."

"Ok, dumb question. Did you have anyone that you were close to when you were a baby digimon?"

"Veemon. Why?"

Ken bit his lip. "When you separated, did it feel kind of weird when you guys met up again?"

"A little." Wormmon's eyes widened as he realized what Ken meant by it. "You're afraid that it might be like that?"

"Maybe."

"Don't worry." Wormmon placed a comforting claw on the blue-haired boy's shoulder. "He'll remember sooner or later."

Ken smiled as he pulled the digimon into a hug. "Thanks, buddy."

Yoshida walked into the room, a smile on his face. "Hey Ken, I found an American restaurant. Wanna try something from there?"

Ken sat up, regarding his dad as he did so. "Um, dad, Osamu's not here yet."

***

Eric knew he was dreaming. He just knew it. First of all, he was on the left side of the plane, not the right. Secondly, his clothes were different, like he had gone and swapped his clothing for something else. He was no longer wearing a white shirt, vest, and a pair of shorts, but rather a green shirt overtop a long sleeved shirt and blue jeans. Then there was the total lack of sound, which troubled him to no end.

He turned to the side, expecting to see his mom there, but instead saw a woman and a young boy. Both had blue eyes and blonde hair. The boy was clutching a small plastic plane, and was chattering away happily to his mom. The boy turned toward him then, smiling that cherubic smile, and pointing to the plane, started saying something to Eric, but no words came out. Eric found himself talking back and suddenly looked up as a scream ripped through the plane.

Fighting down a rising lump of panic, Eric looked out the window. The wing was there, but one of the engines attached was currently on fire. Eric sat there, mortified, as he watched the rest of the wing and the other engine meet a similar fate. He heard someone over the speaker system trying to assure everyone that they were going to make an emergency stop.

When the engines failed, however, there was no room to argue that they weren't going to survive. The plane was spiraling down to the ground, and Eric could finally see why they hadn't landed. There seemed to be an endless stretch of trees below. He hadn't realized that someone had opened the airlock until he felt glasses being snatched off his face by a strong gust of wind. Turning around, he watched as anything that wasn't bolted down was sucked out.

It was almost like slow motion. The kid beside him was screaming. He turned toward him and caught sight of the plane flying out of his hands. The kid unbuckled his seatbelt and ran toward the plane, intent on catching it. Eric took a split second to look for his mom, finding that she had disappeared. Unbuckling himself, he lunged for the boy. Unfortunately, he was too late. Grabbing hold of the boy, all Eric could do was curl into a ball and hope the fall was swift and painless…

Eric woke up drenched in sweat. They had switched planes in Honolulu and were now over open waters. The cabin was dark, and he could see his mom sleeping soundly beside him. He got up from his seat and went into the bathroom. Sometime earlier, the crushing fear had left, replaced with a soothing calm. Now it seemed to be back, and Eric was shaking so badly that he needed time to collect himself.

Looking into the mirror, Eric could already see the dark circles forming under his eyes, the lines of distraught etched onto his face. His face seemed to have a light sheen of sweat on it, and his eyes looked haunted, like something had scared him badly. He gave a short laugh. Like something had scared him badly? That wasn't true at all. He had just been scared shitless by a dream that he now realized was always blurry and never vivid. That he had witnessed it all scared him. Why had he dreamt it? Did it somehow connect him to his past? Shaking his head to clear the last vestiges of the dream, Eric walked back to his seat, but he still couldn't stop shaking.

To Be Continued…