Who Are You, Wait, Who Am I?
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Not now, not ever.
Summary: What happens when a group of people wake up in a room with no idea who they are?
A/N: Hi there! Sorry for being away for quite a bit. A lot of drama in my personal life plus a dead computer put a cramp on my writing time. Anyway this is the first chapter in an epic. On a side note, I'm not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter due to my father's health and we'll be moving very very soon. I have a few chapters written out but I don't know when I'll be able to post them. I didn't abandon my writing its just real life got in the way.
I do have a few other epics planned out along with another sequel to the Mon Petit/Ma Petite Chère but I'll need to find more free time. If you want to chat with me just look me up on twitter, my screen name is on my homepage. So here we go, enjoy the story
Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.
Patrick Overton said, "When you have come to the edge of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly."
"If I never see your face again, I won't mind..."
A groan came from the man who was willing his eyelids to open, only for them to fail to cooperate with the simple task of opening.
"Oh my God," a feminine voice muttered, "Who the Hell is singing?"
That made the dark-haired man raise his head, "What?"
"Who said that?" a male voice croaked out before clearing his throat, "Hello?"
"Must you talk so loud?" another feminine voice hollered out loud.
"Who said that?" the dark-haired man questioned, he ran his large hands over his face, wincing when he felt a strange liquid, sticky substance on his hands one that he prayed was saliva, "Hello?"
"Me," a young male voice answered as he slowly braced himself on the circular table trying with all his might to stand up.
"Shit, who turned out the sun?" a dark man's voice grumbled, lifting his head to stare at two men and a woman, "What happened?"
"Better question is, why am I here?" a dark-haired woman asked as she placed her hand to her aching head, "And why does it feel like someone made a piñata out of my head?"
"God, please stop talking," the first woman sharply replied. A stab of guilt ran through her for her harsh comment, "What time is it?"
"According to this really expensive watch, it's a little after ten in the evening," an older man answered, "Now, I have a question."
"What's that?" the dark-haired man asked, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the small room.
"Who the HELL are all of you people?" the older man asked, then frowned, "Wait, who am I?"
That sentiment sunk in for everyone. They all were wondering that very same thing.
"AAHHHHHHH!" a female voice screamed outside of the room.
"What the..." the dark man pondered, swaying slightly as he quickly rose from his seat then rushing out of the room with the small group following behind.
The dark man scurried down the stairs, and into the middle of a spacious office floor.
"Honey, are you ok?" the man asked, concerned for the woman's well-being, "Talk to me, baby girl."
"Get your paws off me," the colorful blonde demanded, "Where in God's name am I? Who the Hell are all of you people? And did you just call me 'baby girl'?"
"Uh, yeah," the athletic man answered confused, "Sorry if it seems degrading or..."
"No, I liked it," the blonde answered, "I don't know why, but it's ok."
Turning to look at the rest of the group, "Sorry for the outburst. I don't know what came over me."
"Nothing spells fear like waking up in a roomful of strangers with no memory of who you are..." the brunette started.
"Or how you got there," the young blonde beside her finished, "What's the last thing everyone remembers before waking up?"
"Hm," the young man frowned, "I only remember waking up here."
"Me too," the dark man chimed in, looking from the three men to the three women, "Not that I don't mind waking up to three luscious ladies, but this is a little too..."
"A little like being abducted by kidney thieves," the brunette finished, "Yeah, this seems like a really bad situation if we all woke up with no memory of anything."
"Oh my God," the colorful blonde gasped, "Everyone check your sides."
"What?" the youngest man queried, "Do you actually think that would happen?"
"Uh, yeah," the woman protested looking around the group of strangers, "Things like that actually happen, right?"
"I dunno," the dark man shrugged his shoulders, "Did you see that on tv or something?"
"I don't even remember what I ate for breakfast, how would I know if I saw that on TV," sighing she rubbed her temples with her hands, "This has to be a nightmare."
"Ouch," the young man's hand went to his aching arm, "What did you do that for?"
"Proving that this isn't a dream," the brunette pointed out, "And unless bruises are real in the subconscious mind, this is the reality that we have to deal with."
"For now," the dark-haired man added, "Alright people, check your pockets."
"Are you robbing us or something?" the dark man scoffed, "What good is it to check our pockets?"
"To find some type of identification," the other man stated matter-of-fact, "You know drivers license or something."
"Good idea," the older man commented, searching his back pockets then moving to his suit jacket, finding a leather-bound wallet, "A-ha."
The rest of the group checked their own pockets, each finding something significant except for the colorful blonde who sighed in defeat.
"All right, it would seem that my name is David Rossi," the older man announced, "And according to this expensive leather wallet, I have a lot of credit cards."
"Ooh, shopping trip?" the perky blonde teased, "Well, unlike the rest of you, I'm stuck in a dress. A colorful one, I might add. But according to this silver identification bracelet, I'm Penelope Garcia and I'm allergic to shellfish."
"Penelope?" the dark man snorted, "So do you have a nickname?"
"Uh," Penelope paused, "Penny?"
"Penny suits you," David grinned turning to the brunette beside him, "And you would be?"
"Emily Prentiss," she read, staring at the driver's license in her hand, "Huh, I'm an organ donor too. Well, I hope this isn't some kidney heist thing because I'd like to be dead before they start carving me up."
Penelope and David chuckled at that, "We'll make a mental note on that, and you are?"
"Dr. Spencer Reid," the young man read, "And according to this identification card, I'm a member of MENSA. I guess that means I'm smart?"
"Wow, a certified genius in our very midst," Emily commented, "Hope this means you can figure out what the Hell happened here."
"Or where we are," the younger blonde chimed in holding up her license, "I'm Jennifer Jareau."
"Look at that rock," Penelope lunged forward, staring at the diamond encrusted ring on the young woman's hand, "So where's the husband?"
"I don't know," Jennifer said, the sentiment setting in for her "Oh my gosh, I'm married?"
"Wouldn't that be a bizarre thing if it was one of these guys here?" Penelope chuckled, "Huh, I guess I have a sense of humor, Jennifer."
"Charming," Jennifer muttered, her heart pounding as she coyly looked around the room at the men in her presence. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world...
"How about you?" Emily turned to the man across from her, "We all know our names, what's yours?"
"Derek Morgan," the dark man interjected showing off his license, "And I'm photogenic."
Emily rolled her eyes, "Good for you, but I was actually talking to... what IS your name?"
"Aaron Hotchner," the dark-haired man read slowly, "Wow, I am not smiling in this picture."
"Aaron here," Emily finished, "So we all know who we are, but does anyone know where we are?"
"Obviously in some type of government office," Spencer offered, "Notice the numerous plaques on the wall? I think this is some type of routine assignment. I mean clearly we're all government employees with these badges."
"Uh, not me," Penelope interjected, "I think I'm assistant or something, I mean those are I.D. badges but I don't have one."
Jennifer reached past Spencer to Penelope, "Wow, that's a lot of pink you're wearing."
"I know," Penelope exclaimed, "What was it, a bet gone bad?"
"Or you could have suffered an emotional setback," Spencer offered, "You know, being comforted by wearing it after an emotional trauma?"
"Trauma?" Emily quietly repeated, an image flashing before her eyes but quickly dissipating before she could absorb it.
"What kind of trauma?" Derek questioned, his eyes scanning to Penelope who shrugged.
"Like I said, I don't even know what I had for breakfast let alone if I suffered some trauma..." she paused, a shot rang out in her memory causing the young woman to falter backwards.
"Penelope?" Derek carefully whispered, "Penelope?"
Once the dark man placed a warm hand on the blonde's shoulder, he tenderly whispered, "Talk to me baby girl."
That got the blonde's attention, "What did you call me?"
"Baby girl?" Derek repeated, his face furrowed with confusion while Penelope's face scrunched up. As though she were remembering something, "What's wrong? Do you not want me to call you that?"
"I don't know," she murmured, chewing her lower lip.
"That's a bad habit to get into," Emily teased, frowning at the easy retort that escaped her lips.
"I know that I should not like it, but... it's ok, I guess," Penelope added, a small smile growing across her face, "Yeah, it's good."
"Good," Derek grinned at the blonde.
"Well, now that we've got that all straightened out," Aaron started, "How about we..."
"Uh, excuse me? But who died and left you in charge?" Derek interrupted, raising his hand up, "Look not to be rude or anything, but us being here isn't just the main problem."
"How so?" Jennifer asked, whipping her blonde locks in her face turning to face the dark man.
"He's talking about the lack of memory we're all experiencing," Spencer offered, "Well clearly we can rule out anything to do with a terrorist attack."
"Oh my stars," Penelope gasped while her hand went to her cheek, "That would be horrible. I mean can you imagine that?"
"Penelope," Aaron tried interjecting, "You don't have to..."
"I mean how can you get something like THAT out of your mind?" she rambled on, "And how can you sleep after seeing all the gruesome scenes..."
"Penelope," Aaron tried again, internally sighing as he shot Spencer an angered look, "Calm down..."
"And what about children?" Penelope added, "How can anyone deal with that?"
Both Jennifer and Aaron frowned at that, while the younger woman looked down at the photograph of the blonde boy with blue eyes looking back at her, Aaron furrowed his eyebrows. He wondered why the rambling newsagent's words struck a chord with him.
And wondered why he felt as though he were missing something important.
"How can anyone want to work in a field where you wonder why..." she started only for the older man to lean over and cover her pink glossed cover lips.
"And how about silence for now?" David asked, turning his dark eyes on her, "Can we have that for two minutes?"
The muffled reply from the pink rimmed glasses woman was met with a nod.
"Good girl," David smiled as he removed his hand, "I have a feeling that, that wasn't the first time I've done that."
"Probably a subconscious memory making its way through," Spencer chimed in, when everyone turned to him, "I'm not sure how I know, but there has been text books and studies written on the subconscious helping amnesia recover lost memories."
"Really?" Derek questioned, "This sounds like a bad storyline on a daytime soap opera."
"So how do we recover these memories?" Emily asked switching the subject, "What go to a hospital? We'd probably all wind up in a padded cell."
"She is right," Jennifer agreed, "I mean one person showing up with a missing memory is credible, but seven?"
"They probably think we all dropped acid or something," Penelope added.
Aaron pursed his lips at that. He knew that the three women had a point, but there was something inside the man telling him that there was more to their problem then just this. There had to be.
"What if..." Derek said, breaking the silence, "Someone did this to us."
"Who?" Jennifer asked, "Who would be stupid enough to attack Federal Agents?"
"People have enemies," he shrugged, "I'm sure we all do, too."
"Well, that is true," Emily chewed her lower lip, "But enough to pull something as big and bad as this? To wipe out all of our memories?"
"We should probably look through some of our old files and..." the lead agent started but flinched that the others sent his way, "What?"
"Aaron, how can we look through files when we have no idea where to look, or even how?" Penelope asked, "I mean there are probably case files on the computer, but what if I don't know to even turn one on?"
"The mind is a powerful muscle, and one of the most common ways to retrieve lost memories is to..." Spencer started, faltering when a memory hit the young agent, "A trauma can temporarily cause the victim to lose important..." his words whispering lightly, "A tragedy..."
Derek scrunched up his nose while the three women wore worried expressions, "Spencer?"
The younger man stared down at his identification badge, his image smiling at him something dawned on him. Something he didn't want to tell the others, at least not yet.
"Spencer?" Jennifer repeated, a little more loudly, "Spence?"
That made the man in question look up at her, "What did you just call me?"
"Spence," Jennifer slowly answered, biting her lower lip, "Spence."
"I know that name," he murmured, turning his gaze upon the young blonde, "I just don't know how."
"It could be, because that is your nickname?" Penelope offered, "Which I happen to think kicks ass."
Aaron turned his dark eyes towards the colorful woman, "Whoops, my bad?"
"How about we all check out the interior of this building to find our places and find out information about ourselves?" Aaron questioned the group, "That way we can try to see if we can remember anything?"
"You mean all alone," Penelope queried, her head tilting sideways, "Out there? By ourselves?"
"Yes, is that a problem?" Aaron asked, his own mind wondering if he could comprehend any new information not only about himself but about the group of people he felt somewhat responsible for.
"But what if it's not safe?" the woman asked. "Who'll go with me? Protect me?"
"We're locked in a Federal Building, Penelope" Emily informed her. "I hardly think we're in danger of anything except ourselves."
"Famous last words." Penelope muttered, "Look, I just think it's better to be safe than sorry, after all we did just wake up without our memories."
"Fair enough," Aaron conceded with a nod, "Derek, you go with Penelope, Jennifer will go with Spencer and David..."
"I can take care of myself," the older man assured the seemingly at ease team leader, "Like I need to worry about someone coming after me. Emily can go with you, Aaron."
The brunette raised an eyebrow at that but shrugged, "Whatever."
"Great," Aaron said, "We'll all meet back here in thirty minutes with whatever information we find, deal?"
"Deal." the group nodded, each pairing off as they left the corner office of the large building.
Aaron stood up, walking towards the unfazed brunette, "Ready Agent..."
"Prentiss," Emily repeated looking down at the I.D. she attached to her white blouse, "As ready as I'll ever be, sir."
Walking out of the room, the two knew that despite the lack of memory either of them had, they were unknowingly at ease with each other in spite of outward display otherwise.
Both knew it was going to be a long day.
"A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born." Antoine de Saint-Exupery
To Be Continued...
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