Who Are You, Wait, Who Am I?
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not now, nor ever.
Summary: What happens when a group of people wake up in a room with no idea who they are?
A/N: Thank you all for reviewing the first chapter and your kind words, it means the world to me. So on the personal life front; my Dad had another setback and with his health, he's my first priority and I don't know when I will be able to update again, as my time is spent in the ICU and I have a few more chapters to write of this story... but I thought I'd give you all another chapter for your lovely reviews and the kind P.M.s I received.
So here's another chapter. I hope you all like the story so far. I'm not sure how long this epic will be but I do promise that it's plot I have running through my mind is good and I'll try to put everything in it.
Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.
"The difference between what the most and the least learned people know is inexpressibly trivial in relation to that which is unknown." Albert Einstein
Pacing the room wasn't doing any of them any good but they couldn't help it. Each was wary of the person beside them, afraid that they had caused the infliction that persisted all of this in to fruition.
"Will you stop that?" Jennifer asked, blowing the blonde lock of hair out of her eyes as she looked up at him, "You're making me nervous."
While the female agent resumed her task of going through a stack of papers on her desk, that she found quickly due to the young man currently annoying her.
"Factually one cannot make another person nervous," Spencer blubbered out, "It is the joint emotions of fear and anxiety that makes a person feel fear not another human being."
As the man blathered on about facts that flew over the blonde's head, an image came to his mind. An angry face of a man no older than him. But what startled him was the way that scruffy man's holding something shiny while his eyes went from anger to scared then back again in a matter of seconds.
"What?!" the blonde exclaimed, "I can't believe this."
The younger man had another flash, he was sobbing something, 'I didn't mean it.'
"I didn't mean it!" Spencer barked out, looking to the woman behind the desk.
"Mean what?" Jennifer asked with a raised eyebrow, "Spencer are you alright?"
"Huh?" he asked, coming to from his momentary haze of a faded memory, "Yea, fine."
"Spence," she chastised, "If there's something you're remembering, you have to be honest about it. How else are any of us going to remember anything if you're keeping secrets?"
"Leave it alone, Jennifer," Spencer's flat tone replied.
"Spencer," she repeated, "Answer me!"
"I said 'Leave it alone'," the young man reiterated harshly, his eyes looking anywhere but at her hurt blue ones.
"Fine," she inhaled, holding in her feelings in. The woman knew that she couldn't get the man she felt close to, to answer her but she knew that the male members of her team could.
While the two resumed their tasks of searching her office, down the hall of the Federal building David was snickering while he looked through the books on his mahogany bookshelf.
"Seems that I'm quite the little entrepreneur," he bemused, flipping over the true crime book reading the back cover and frowning at the image staring back at him, "Jesus, I'm not that old, am I?"
As the older man stroked his goatee, he dark eyes wandered to his mahogany desk. The name plate bright and shiny reflecting his name. Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi.
"Rossi," David repeated sitting up straight pondering his name, "David. David. David? Dave?"
As David contemplated over the fact that he didn't even know if he had a nickname something caught his eyes. Something silver plated. Setting the book down on the desk top he stood up walking the few feet towards the bookcase across from him.
Picking up the object, he saw a smiling faces of himself from his younger years. At least twenty years, he estimated. But there was a woman with him.
"I'm married?" he murmured, his younger self staring at the woman in the wedding dress, "They looked so happy."
He turned his gaze down to his hands, there was no wedding band, "I guess not."
As he returned the frame to the bookshelf, a memory hit him. A flash of himself sobbing as he set flowers down upon a fresh grave. Leaning against his desk, the man took a deep breath, covering his eyes with his hands.
"What's happening to me?" he sighed, looking out of his office towards the large break room.
"So what do you got, mama?" Derek asked the frazzled blonde sitting in front of several computers, "Hello?"
"Hmm?" she murmured, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "Oh, I have no clue."
"None?"
"Well, I do know how to turn it on," she informed him, "But other than that, I'm a blank slate."
"Well not completely," Derek told her, slowly making his way over, he knelt down, "Think about it, Penelope. Everyone has a past, everyone has to have something online about themselves."
"You think?" she asked.
"Honey, you're not living off the grid like a nomad," he gave her a megawatt smile, "And I'm sure, somewhere inside that pretty little noggin' you know it. You're smart, you will figure this out."
"I just hope that it's soon, hot stuff," Penelope replied, her fingers touching the keyboard; though the board felt foreign to her something inside told her that she knew it, "Because I'm so not having fun not knowing how I am. This is real life, not a bad made for tv movie."
Derek raised an eyebrow at that, "Well there's one thing we know about you, mama, you have a wicked sense of humor."
"Mama?" Penelope pursed her lip then nodded, "I'm ok with that."
As the blonde analyst continued to pour over the enclosed office space, looking for any clues that could help her trigger her memory. Sitting up, she let out a defeated sight turning to the man beside her.
"There's nothing," she cried out, slamming her palm on the desk "I can't find anything that could help me remember who I am."
While she rested her forehead against the palm of her hand, she angrily slammed her free hand on the desk again this time knocking down an object. Derek leaned over retrieving the fallen item, chuckling once he had a good look at it.
"What?"
"I think you dropped your troll," he said, trying to keep a straight face before grinning.
"My what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as he held up the pink haired doll, "Oh," furrowing her eyebrows, "Oh, I'm one of those people."
The dark man placed the colorful doll upon the desk when he heard the woman shriek, "What? What is it?"
Turning his gaze to what startled the younger woman, "Baby girl, I have no idea what's going on here..."
"There!" she pointed her pink finger nail towards the screen, "See, that's me and you."
Leaning in, Derek's eyes saw Penelope and his images reflecting back at him, "Us?"
"Uh huh," she slowly scrolled the mouse to another image, "I think... I think we're a couple..."
"Really, me?" he asked bemused, a smile growing across his face, "I have a girlfriend."
Penelope turned her gaze onto the dark man, "Yeah, so? Does that surprise you?"
"Kind of, yeah," the man admitted, pondering that piece of information, "I have a girlfriend."
"And it's me," she reiterated, "Huh, wonder if I'm the jealous type?"
Derek shrugged as he stared back at the intimate embrace of them in the photo.
"Nothing, nothing and a big fat nothing," the brunette woman sighed, "Why the hell did this happen to us?"
Aaron lifted his head over the mountain of paper work on his mahogany desk, "Better question is who did this."
"You really like having the last word don't you, Aaron?"
That made the man pause, he didn't know if it were true or not, but he felt something within him awaken at that, "Meaning, Agent Prentiss?"
"Oh don't take that tone with me, sir," the last word hissed out. A recollection flashed over the woman, causing her to still. A familiar feeling stirring her, but before she could give it much pause she stiffened her spin, "My apologies, sir."
The 'sir' hit him again, but this one cut close to the vest. He didn't understand why the simple word stung him, but he told himself that the phrase was nothing more than what was stated. He was a man of importance and in charge. That the agent meant no disrespect by it.
That's what he chose to believe, even when the woman's angry eyes landed on him. Sighing, he knew this was going nowhere and they still had the rest of his office to search for information on himself and his agents to help trigger their memories.
"Ok, I'm going to check this file cabinet," Emily muttered, trying to will something to happen. Anything, she told herself.
"Fine," Aaron mumbled, resuming his earlier position of searching his desk.
As the two sat in uncomfortable silence, Aaron Hotchner pulled open the bottom drawer ready to find nothing when he heard a surprised gasp from the woman in his office.
"Oh. My. God," her stunned eyes widening as she looked at him, "You'll never believe what I found."
"You're right, I won't," he bit out.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," a third voice called out from the doorway, "Or rather the wrong side of a conference desk."
"An empty one at that," the blonde added under her breath.
"Penelope, Derek," Emily greeted, holding her found object to her chest, "Did you find anything out?"
"Well other than an embarrassing troll habit, no" Derek lamented, grunting when the blonde jabbed him, "Oh and that Baby Girl here and I are dating."
"Dating?" Aaron queried, "Really?"
"Yup," the blonde grinned, "Who knows who else is dating someone here? Maybe even the two of you?"
Emily and Aaron both exchanged puzzled looks, both taking in account what the colorful woman told them. When the brunette whirled her head back to the other pair, Aaron's eyes trailed down to his desk.
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Emily quickly retorted, "So you're together? Funny Derek, you strike me more as a player. No offense."
"Some taken," the man teased, "I know, but maybe it's because I hadn't found the right woman."
While Emily raised her eyebrow at that, he added, "Or at least I think I have found the one. Who knows?"
"Anything else, Agents?" Aaron interrupted, it was frustrating the team leader that he hadn't found much progress in his own search. Flipping over the file in defeat, he reached down to open his desk when he heard a crash.
"Oh here, don't lose this," Emily said, passing over the fallen frame, "Hey, he looks like you. I think... I think this is your son. Do you have a son?"
Grasping the edge of the dark picture frame, "I don't know... I... I think so."
"What's his name?" Penelope asked.
"Oh God, I don't know," Aaron said, he could feel his chest tightening at that thought, "I can't believe I don't even know my own son's name."
"Hey, hey, hey," the brunette soothed, "Calm down, Aaron, just calm down. It's ok."
"It's not ok," he barked, instantly seeing a wounded look in the brunette's eyes then hid quickly "None of this ok. I have no idea who I am, let alone my own son's name."
Emily placed a warm hand on his arm, "Maybe it's not, there's still hope. Here..." taking the frame from him, she unlatched the backing removing the school photo of the small boy with the bright smile, "Here you go."
"Jack Hotchner age seven, grade three," Aaron quietly bemused, "Jack."
"He's a good-looking boy," Penelope commented, "He has your smile."
Placing the photo back into the frame, Aaron smiled at the sight of his young son as he set the picture proudly on his desk, "Ok, did anyone hear anything from David Rossi? Or Jennifer and Spencer?"
"Nothing yet," Derek answered, "We were on our way to find my office. If I have an office. I wouldn't want to have one of those desks out there. By the way Princess, yours is slap dab in the middle central."
"Princess?" Emily and Penelope chimed in unison.
"Hot stuff you better refrain from those type of comments," Penelope wagged her finger in front of his face, "Otherwise I won't be a happy camper, and I'm sure Emily here wouldn't like it neither."
The woman in question was mulling over the nickname, "Whatever, I just want to find out about my self."
"Ooh, what if there's a wedding photo for you down there? Or a kid?" Penelope eagerly questioned.
"Honey I doubt it," the brunette wiggled her ring finger in front of her, "So I either am single with a cat, which is sad, or I'm just too damn picky?"
Marching down into the empty bullpen, Emily saw a name plate on the desk Derek pointed out to her and she quickly sat in the office chair and perused her neat desk.
"So obviously I'm a clean freak," she murmured to herself, checking for framed photos of any family members and seeing none, "And I don't have any significant other to speak of. Great."
Quickly looking through the piles of manila folders on her desk, she surmised that she was a workaholic. A diligent one at that from the number of encompassed in the outgoing box. While she silently read one case file, one that turned out to be a graphic and gruesome murder-suicide of three. Her eyes welled up at the image of a boy no older than twelve. A blond boy with piercing blue eyes.
The eyes are what entranced her. There was something about those eyes that captured her attention. It was as if she knew those eyes, but it couldn't possibly be she told herself. No it wasn't, her mind warred with itself.
A flash of those eyes sent her mind reeling backwards, to an image of herself with a little boy. The two were laughing, when they heard a voice. That one voice that made them both freeze.
"Hello, Emily?"
The brunette's breath hitched at that, "Hello, Emily."
"Emily?"
A large hand touched her shoulder causing her to shrink away, "Don't touch me."
"I'm sorry," Aaron emphatically apologized, "Emily, are you ok?"
That snapped her back to the present, she looked up to the concerned and warm eyes of her boss, "Oh, I'm fine."
"What was it?" he asked, "You remembered something, what was it?"
"No, no it was nothing important," she waved him off with the lie, turning the conversation back to him, "How about you? Anything else you remembered up there? About Jack or anything else?"
"Well I found the teams personnel files which I'll give everyone when we return to that round table room," he informed her, looking back down at her, "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
"Nothing, it's just a really bad day," she told him, "I'm just going to finish looking through my desk and I'll be up there shortly."
He had stilled at that, "I'm having a bad day." An image of her sitting across from him, looking beyond tired and sad ached him. It was more than just a concerned friend and colleague. The sadness behind her sad eyes told him so.
"Aaron?" her soft tone reaching him, "I said, I'll see you up there."
"Right," he said, standing tall he swiftly returned to his office. Looking down into the bullpen, at the brunette in the middle of it all. He felt something change. An emotion he hadn't felt when he was looking at the picture of the woman on his desk.
Flipping the tiny photo over, a brunette with blue eyes and small smile sitting beside him didn't entice or provoke any recollection from him. "Beth and I," he read from the back of the picture, "Beth."
Shrugging at that, he set the picture down and found another framed photo of the team but he frowned at the couplings. He did see Derek and Penelope but they weren't with each other. Derek had his arm wrapped around Emily, while Penelope was leaning against a dark-haired man with glasses and a goofy smile.
Well, this can't be good, he told himself.
As he prepared to leave his office, he stole a glance down into the bullpen towards Emily. One last time, he told himself and was surprised that she had a startled look on her own as she was looking in the bottom drawer of her desk. He wondered why he was focused on her instead figuring out his own life.
"There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception." Aldous Huxley
To Be Continued...
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