A/N: I'm a day late yeah yeah I'm sorry, I was sick.

Everything feels different in New York. I think that's probably a really touristy thing to think, but as soon as I stepped out of the airport, I felt it. I'm not really a poetic sort of person, but I feel like I could say something really profound about the way air smells or the way the ground vibrates when I walk. Or perhaps it's not so much the city, but the simple fact that for the first time in over a year, Adrian and I are in the same place. The thought alone makes my stomach clench painfully. Maybe I'm just finally having a psychotic break. There's lots of crazy people in New York, I hear. I'd blend in quite nicely.

I'm sitting in my hotel room now, perched on the edge of the bed tensely, as if I'm waiting for someone to give me instructions. Now that I'm here I don't really know what I should do. I feel...ridiculous. New York is a big place. The odds that I'll run into Adrian are slim, to say the least. Jill swore she'd call me if she felt anything that could help me find him. I could do a little research of my own, but that feels...I don't know...weird. Creepy, almost. Pathetic, definitely. I don't know why. The whole point of this trip is for me to find him. But now that I'm here, I realize I'm terrified to find him. I don't want to look him in the eyes and see a stranger. I don't want to see him see me for the first time and not know who I am. What if his eyes pass right over me, like I am the most insignificant thing in the world? I don't want to know. But I have to know.

"I'm sorry about the message, really." Jill's apologetic voice through phone is almost too much for me to bear. I miss Jill, but talking to her is like hearing the song that was playing on the worst day of your life after you haven't heard it in over a year.

"It's no big deal, Jill." I assure her.

"I feel like it's my fault she found out."

"I have no idea how she found out," I tell her. "Sometimes I think she's hardwired into my thoughts."

Jill is silent.

Then she says, "So how's New York?" Bubbly and cheerful, like I'm actually here on holiday.

I try to laugh but it sounds like something else. "It's...well, you know." I say.

"Yeah," her tone deflates. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I don't know what to do," I tell her honestly. "Part of me thinks I should just go home."

"No!" the fierceness in her voice surprises me. "You can't give up. You just got there."

"It's been almost two weeks," I sigh.

"One week and three days," she corrects me.

"Well it feels like a lifetime," I reply softly. I've scarecely left my hotel room in all that time. The only times I ventured out were to find food and wander aimlessly, half-hoping I'd magically catch sight of him somewhere. With every passing day I realize more and more how absolutely ridiculous this plan is. He could be anywhere, anywhere. He could even be in a different city now. In a different state. Maybe he was just visiting New York when Jill felt him. Oh, God.

Jill is silent again.

Then she says, "You're not you, Sydney. You don't even sound like you."

Her observation surprises me for some reason. "What do I sound like, then?" I ask.

"Someone else," she says. "Just like Adrian. When I talked to him on the phone all that time ago it was like he was someone doing a creepy imitation of Adrian. And that's how you sound right now. You two...you just aren't right without each other."

I have to ignore her words because I'll break if I let myself feel them. "Even if I do find him, which I'm slowly realizing is impossible, what am I supposed to do? Go up to him and say 'Hey you have no idea who I am but you used to be my boyfriend until your memories of me got erased so it would be really awesome if you remembered me now.'?"

Jill sighs. "You could try kissing him."

I snort obnoxiously. "Don't even go there."

"What?" Jill giggles. "It's worked in enough Disney movies."

I know she's trying to make me laugh but I just don't feel like laughing. I don't feel like much of anything. I definitely don't feel like talking anymore.

"I'm sorry Jill, I'm just kind of in a weird mood. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"I've been trying to reach out with the bond, you know, every day." her voice takes on that apologetic tone again. "I don't know why it won't work. I used to wish for the day when I could stop feeling Adrian, now I..." she trails off, her voice small and tight, and I suddenly realize how stupid I really am.

In all this time, it never occured to me. I'd been so clouded by own grief, my own personal demons, I didn't even think.

I'm not the only one who lost him that day.

A battering ram of emotion surges me forward. I sit upright on the bed, newfound determination sizzling beneath my skin. It's easy to give up when it's just your heart on the line, when you've been resigned to sadness for so long, but I refuse to give up for Jill.

"I'll find him." I promise her. "And when I do, the first thing I'm going to do is kick his ass for putting us through this."

She laughs, but I can hear her tears. "Make sure you record yourself doing it, I'd like to see that."

"I'll bring him back to us," I tell her as serious as I've ever been in my life.

"If anyone can bring him back, it's you."

She's right. It is me. I'm the only one who can do this. And I'm not going to get anywhere laying around in bed and wndering the streets aimlessly and moping. I thought when I got here I'd know exactly what to do but being in the city somehow depressed me more than anything else. Being so close to Adrian yet so far. But I have got to snap out of this fog I've surrounded myself in. Now.

"I can try contacting him if you want." Jill offers, "He never answers the phone and hardly ever returns my texts. But still, I could try and find out where he is-"

"Don't bother," I tell her, already formulating a plan in my head. "I told you I'm going to find him and I will. I'll call you when I've got him."

I could almost see Jill's smile when she spoke, "That's the Sydney I know."


It's been four days since I spoke to Jill. In those days I've been doing nothing but searching. I haven't come up with much. Okay, I haven't really come up with anything at all. I ran Adrian's name through an advanced internet search and came upon a few things that all turned out to be dead-ends. Against my better judgement I even busted out the special software the Alchemists use when we need to find someone. I've no doubt in my mind Stanton somehow has a way of monitoring what I search on it, but I know that she knows why I'm here. She knows I want to find Adrian. She just doesn't know what I plan to do once I've found him. Nothing came up on that, either, which is strange. I wonder if Stanton went as far as to put some sort of block on my computer so that I couldn't find him, but that would be awfully elaborate, even for her.

Today, I am taking a break. I will not let myself get frustrated. I will not think about the fact that each day I don't find Adrian is a dollop of sand through the hour glass. I have two weeks left in my time here. Fifteen days. I try not to hate myself for the time I have already wasted. There is something that needs to be done and I will do it. That's all there is to think about. All there is to do.

But not today. Today is a day for me. I am in New York, after all. It is a lovely place to be. I never thought I'd really be a New York sort of person, but I like it. I like walking around during day and letting myself get lost. I like taking the subway. I like the crowds. I like the noise. I like the precariously organized chaos of it all. I am such a tourist, but the romance of this place is one of the few things keeping me together.

I start at the Metropolitan Mueseum of Art. There is something intangibly magical about museums to me. The quietness of them, the stillness. Even with the hustle and bustle of families corraling their children or tour groups shuffling by, it's easy to shut them out. When I was younger, my sister Carly used to like museums, too. Not for the exhibits, she hardly even glanced at them. She said she just liked to walk around and pretend she was invisible. I remember back then we read this story together about a brother and sister who ran away from home and lived secretly inside the Met for weeks before anyone even noticed they were there. Carly loved that story. She used to tell me that she was going to do that, and I'd have to come with her, because I was the smart one.

I miss Carly. As soon as I arrived at the Met I couldn't help but snap a photo on my phone and send it to her with the caption, Remember?

My phone buzzes before I can even put it away.

How could I forget! ! ! !

I smile at her overuse of exclamation points. I don't know how she does it. She's always in such a positive place. In spite of the things she's been through, she just keeps on going. I thought I was like that too. But this, I don't know if I can keep going. It's depressing, because I know I'm not this person. This person that shuts down and lets heartbreak consume them. Jill was right. This isn't me at all. I am not a victim. I am a survivor. I am a fighter. I am a winner. Sometimes I just need a few exclamation points to remind me.

I don't stay for long at the Met. Under normal circumstances I could happily stay here all day and night, curl up in an antique bed like the kids from the story. But...it's an embarrassing thought...I don't want to do this without Adrian. I want to walk through the rooms with his hand in mind, leisurely stopping in the middle of it all to kiss for no reason. It's too hard to deny myself the pleasure of drooling over some of the Greek and Roman pieces, but then my mind drifts to Adrian again. Our day at the Getty Villa. His lips on mine, the promise of our future together. I curse my brain. Today is not about him. Everything is about him. But not today. It's time to leave this place.

My next stop is the American Museum of Natural History. The name alone excites me more than it probably should. In a wild rush of giddiness and spontaneity I stop in a small deli on the way just because I can. Halfway through my sandwich it hits me suddenly that there's one resource I've yet to exhaust in my search for Adrian. I know I'm not supposed to be thinking about him today, but this thought could actually be productive in finding him. A scrying spell. I couldn't do it myself. Those days are long gone. But if I could get in contact with Ms. Terwilliger again, I could possibly convince her to help me. Surely she has at least one decent virgin witch at her disposal. Maybe she's replaced me with a new apprentice. I frown, the thought settling unpleasantly in my chest. My appetite gone, I fold up the rest of my sandwich and stand to leave. As I'm opening the door to exit I look down and brush away the crumbs that have collected on my skirt. I pop my head back up and I smack right up against someone. The crowded aspect of the city is losing its charm.

"Oh, pardon me," I say quickly as I walk away, knowing the most I'll get in response is a half-hearted curse word.

"Actually, um miss?" Footsteps trail behind me. A hand touches my shoulder. I whirl around and

Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God. This isn't possible.

"Sorry," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I was just watching you from across the street while you were eating and..." I don't even know what he's saying. He's standing right in front of me and oh My God my heart is pounding and I can't do this and this was not supposed to happen. Not today.

He stops talking abruptly, looking troubled. "Oh, wow. I um. I can see I've freaked you out." He laughs and it's a strange, squeaky sound. It doesn't sound like his laugh. "I'm sorry, wow I just realized how creepy I must seem. But I'm not!" he adds quickly.

I can't breathe.

"You know what," he says, cringing. "Never mind. I'm uh, I'm sorry I freaked you out. Have a nice day." And he turns to walk away.

"No!" My voice finally decides to make an appearance. Just breathe, Sydney, I tell myself. You weren't prepared for this but it's happening and you have to deal with it. You have to deal with it right now.

He turns back around. I can't begin to explain how looking at him makes me feel. I have never felt an urge as strong as the one I have to reach out and touch him. But I can't. I can't. I can't.

"I um," I struggle to find words, "I'm sorry-you just um...you surprised me." I try to smile. "What were you saying?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. Sometimes I just do things without thinking."

I nod because I don't know what else to do. "Me too," I tell him.

He smiles brightly and it's almost more than I can bear. "My name's Adrian," he says, extending his hand toward me. Oh God, I can't touch him. I'll die if I touch him. Robotically I bring my hand to meet his and he squeezes mine tight as he shakes it. My heart squeezes with it.

"I was saying that I was watching you from across the street, not in a creepy way," he adds again. "I was just passing by and I saw you through the window and you just looked like you were thinking about something really intensely. It was really interesting to me, because you were just eating a sandwich, but the expression on your face was like..." he shakes his head, like he doesn't know what he's trying to say. "I'm an artist." he says, with an exaggerated shrug. "And I'm working on this series that features human expression. I know this is really forward, but I was wondering if you would mind sitting for me sometime?"

I blink at him. "What?" The euphoria of seeing him again is wearing off. I'm replaced with a sudden coldness. He's looking at me like I'm a stranger. He really has no idea who I am.

"Sitting for me," he repeats. "You know, so I could paint you."

I don't know what I thought was going to happen. The drug really did work. All this time. He doesn't know me. But he will. Whatever they've done to him, it has to be reversible. It just has to be.

"You just have, like, a really expressive face." he tells me. The way he's talking is strange. I'm starting to understand what Jill meant. There's something wrong. This isn't...him. "I can't pay you or anything, but who knows, after I'm a super famous artist, you could be the next Mona Lisa." He flashes me a flirtatious smile and for a moment a sliver of My Adrian shines through.

"What did you say your name was?" he asks me.

"I didn't," I say carefully. I don't have time to be shocked or sad or any other emotion. I have work to do. "My name's Sydney."

Recognition flashes in his emerald eyes. "Oh shit, I totally know you!" he exclaims. "Sydney Sage?"

"Excuse me?" My heart stops. It couldn't possibly be that easy.

"Yeah, we met awhile back, at Court." he says, his eyes flicking to my tattoo. "You were the alchemist, I was the startingly handsome Moroi." He laughs, cocking his head to the side. "Don't you remember?"

Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph. The irony of that question.

"Oh," I say after a moment, swallowing down my nausea. "Right. You're that Adrian."

"Sydney Sage the alchemist." he scoffs, "Jeez, I sure know how to pick them...guess you definitely won't be sitting for me, then, huh?"

The sound of my name coming out of his mouth in his weird, fake, not-Adrian voice is throwing me. But I do my best to stay in control. "What makes you think that?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Well, being that you're who you are and I am who I am," he gestures between us, "our people aren't really known to be the fraternizing type."

You got that right, Strange Adrian.

"Funny story," I reply dryly. "I'm not exactly an alchemist anymore." It's not a lie. In my heart, I am not an alchemist. Haven't been for a long, long time.

"Really?" He says, clearly surprised. "Oh shit, did you get fired over what went down with Rose?"

"No," I shake my head. "It's um...it's a long story."

"So what brings you to the city, then?" he asks. "If you're not here on alchemist business."

"Why do you want to know?" there's a teasing lilt to my voice, but it's an honest question. He doesn't know who I am, so why is he interested at all?

"Just curious," he shrugs. "Pretty girl in a big city all on her own? There's got to be more to that story."

There it is again. A piece of My Adrian. I smile in spite of everything. "I'm...looking for someone." I finally settle on saying.

"Ah, the plot thickens," he smirks. "And what will you do when you find them?"

"I'm still working on that," I smile back.

"Well hey, maybe we can help each other out. You sit for me and I can help you find whoever you're looking for." He leans forward and my heart flips in my chest. "I'm a Hufflepuff, you know."

"W-what does that mean?" I sputter, laughing.

"It means I'm trustworthy, duh!" he throws his arms up in mock outrage. "And I'm a particularly good finder. Found you, after all, didn't I? And I wasn't even trying. Imagine what I could do if I actually set my mind to it." His smile is suggestive and deadly. My Adrian.

Oh God stop flirting with me you stupid, ridiculous idiot.

I look away, this is all just too much. I look back at him. He seems more like himself now. Maybe he just needs to...spend a little time with me. Maybe that will bring him back. It's a long shot, but it's all I've got.

After a long moment I give him a decisive nod. "I suppose that's a relatively fair trade."


The first thing I do when I get back to my hotel room is call Jill.

"I found him."

"Already?!" she shrieks. "Oh my God, how did you do it? Where was he?"

I sigh heavily, falling back against the bed. "Well, I guess, technically...he found me. I was leaving a deli and he just bumped right into me."

"Oh my God," she repeats, "So what happened? Did he remember you? Did you kiss him?"

I laugh. For the first time in over a year, I really, really laugh. "No. To both of those things."

"Oh..." her voice falters. "So much for hoping."

"There's still hope," I tell her adamantly. "I know what you mean now, about him seeming like a different person. He was acting really strange. But there would be moments every now and then when he was Adrian again. Our Adrian. And I just think that maybe if I can just..." I sigh. "I don't know. But there has to be a way to bring him back. I'm meeting up with him again the day after tomorrow."

"What?" Jill exclaims. "Like, on a date?"

"No," I say. "He...he wants to paint me."

"Oh. My. God!" she shrills for the third time. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Me neither," I gush. "Jill, I've missed him so much. I feel like we're so close and I'm freaking out. I wasn't expecting this to happen so fast. I don't...I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Don't freak out," she orders me. "We're halfway there. More than halfway. I mean he stalked you from across the street and then convinced you to let you paint him, he's obviously drawn to you even if he doesn't realize it. Right?"

"I hope so," I whisper.

We talk for awhile about what I can do to bring him back. She still thinks jumping his bones is the best way to go. As much as I like that plan, I don't think it's the best approach.

"I have a good feeling about this," she tells me as we're saying our goodbyes. "A really good feeling."


We haven't spoken much since I arrived. He's different again. I can't place what's so off about him, but it's really disconcerting. He's been sketching me while I sit motionlessly staring out the window of his impressive studio apartment. He said this was just to 'get a feel for my face'...whatever that means. The walls are white and empty, they don't remind me of him at all.

After about twenty minutes of silence he says, "We can take a break now, if you want. Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure," I say to his back as he's already striding toward the kitchen.

"Should have offered when you got here," he calls. "Sorry. Like I told you. My brain's kind of scattered sometimes."

Right. I frown. Scattered.

"What would you like?" he asks.

"Um, just...water would be fine." I call back awkwardly.

He returns a few seconds later with a glass of ice water and hands it to me.

"Thank you," I say.

He nods, sitting on the stool he's been sketching me from and then frowns.

"Are you..." I say and his head snaps up to look at me. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" he asks, "Oh, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I shake my head. "You just seem a little..." I stare at him, trying to find the man I love inside the stranger who is staring back at me. "off."

He holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. "I'm having kind of an off day, I guess. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," I tell him. Another silence follows. "Do you want to...talk about it?"

He looks at me again, strangely, like I've surprised him. He opens his mouth to speak just as the door to his apartment opens with a loud creak.

"Adrian?" a voice calls as we both look toward the noise. "You home?"

"In here!" he calls back, a wide grin on his face.

The sound of keys dropping onto porcelain slams through my ears. My heart hammers in my chest in time with the footsteps approaching where Adrian and I are sitting.

A lovely brunette young woman strides into the sitting room. She is pale and lithe, a faint dusting of freckles spread across her perfectly pronounced cheekbones. She hoists up the brown sack of groceries balanced expertly on her slim hip. "Hi!" she greets me with a big smile. She looks toward Adrian and swats him with her free hand. "Aren't you going to introduce me, asshole?"

Oh no. Oh, no. Oh. No.

"Where ever are my manners?" he rolls his eyes at the girl, then smiles at me. "This is Sydney. I met her the other day and blackmailed her into modeling for me."

She laughs a high, musical laugh and gives me an apologetic look. "You've been stuck here alone with him all this time? My condolences."

"Hey!" he whines at her, "I'll have you know Sydney and I go way back. We're old friends, right Syd?"

I think I'm about to pass out. Did he just call me...Syd? Is this...real life?

I smile thinly at them both. I am not going to pass out. I am not going to pass out.

"Oh," Adrian says, looking back and forth between us. "Duh." He slaps himself on the forehead. "Sydney," he points to the girl standing beside him. "This is my girlfriend, Rebecca."