Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Author's Note: Thanks a lot for all your reviews! I appreciate it :D! Here's the next chapter. It's hopefully a little bit more clarifying, well not really, but it gives you a glimpse into what's to come. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3
"He says he looks in the mirror,
And he can't tell anymore,
Who he really is and who they believe him to be.
He says he walks a thin line
between what is and what could be.
And he's getting closer
to something he can't understand."
Fairytales and Castles - Lifehouse


He laid the knife on the kitchen table where it pointed menacingly at the circular slices of stale bread, and then rubbed his hands, dusting away golden crumbs that fluttered to the ground like glowing dust. Instead of reaching for the gleaming object as he was prone to do, he randomly selected three eggs from the carton and cracked them over the sizzling oil. "Where did you find it?" he asked finally, his fist closing around the fork on the counter. He used it to stir the contents vigorously, venting his frustrations on their breakfast, wondering how he could've possibly missed the ring.

Her voice was quiet, and she lingered behind him, barely two feet away. "In the pocket of my jeans."

"That's an expensive thing to have in the pocket of a pair of jeans. Try it on," he suggested, turning his face slightly. His stubbly jaw hovered above his naked shoulder as he watched her lower her gaze.

She linked her slender fingers together, pushing the fingertips of one hand into the knuckles of the other. "I did."

"And?" With a habitual shake, he added a trifle of salt and pepper to the cooking eggs.

"It's too big."

Yielding to temptation, Derek set the culinary items aside and turned to fully face her. He stretched out his hand, long fingers carefully extracting the ring from her hand, brushing against hers ever so slightly. His index finger glided smoothly over the cool gold until it fell into an inscription. "Look," he murmured. "It says something."

"Forever yours… TG," she recited softly.

Black eyebrows delved into a deep V over his narrowed blue eyes. "TG, sounds like someone's initials," he commented, his gaze drifting back to hers.

The slim row of her shoulders shifted in an unconcerned shrug. "Maybe. Do you think it's mine?"

He gave her a long hard look and shook his head firmly. "No," he said honestly.

There was a travesty of a smile fluttering against the rich puff of her mouth. "Why not?"

"You'd be wearing it, and it would fit you," he said reasonably, flicking the surface of the clean diamond with his thumb. Unaffected, the precious stone gleamed back at him mockingly.

"Whose is it then?"

"I don't know." He could feel her eyes on his back when he returned his attention to the pan. Ignoring the strange feeling her gaze invoked, he killed the fire on the stove and scooped the pile of scrambled eggs into a large blue saucer.

"Aren't you going to notify the authorities that you've found me?"

Derek slowly slid the plate onto the kitchen table alongside the prepared bread. "I'll do what I can," he lied, pulling out one of the plastic chairs. He nodded at the other, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She opened a cupboard beside the fridge and took out two small plates. Walking over to the table, she set one before him and the other on the opposite end of the table. "Why are you here?" she asked seriously, sitting on the edge of the white plastic chair across the table.

He took a fresh fork from the wooden holder, using it to heap a significant portion of eggs into his plate. "What do you mean why am I here? I live here," he answered pointedly.

Her hands were folded on the table next to the plate, and she gave him a prudent look. "Why do you live here? What are you running from?" she insisted.

"I'm not running from anything. I like it here," he mumbled over a mouthful of chewy bread.

She heaved a frustrated breath and leaned back into her chair, knowing that she wasn't going to get anywhere with him. "Okay," she relented reluctantly.

"Okay," he echoed, his eyes darting between her empty plate and her wandering gaze. "Eat your breakfast."

She fumed silently but obligingly stuck her fork into the saucer positioned midway between them. Steam rose from the fluffy pieces of egg she brought to her mouth. He watched as her full pink lips closed around the fork. When she pulled it out, it held a whispering hint of mist that made his throat tighten.

He coughed loudly and riveted his stare to his almost-empty plate, noticing for the first time the ring discarded beside it. Cupping his palm over it, he slid it across the polished wooden surface and removed his hand. "Take it."

She snatched it angrily, leveling a furious glower at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Is that the way you talk to everyone?"

He smiled at the fiery glaze in her blue-gray eyes. He hadn't seen anyone feel so strongly about anything in such a long time. It made a forgotten part of him feel awake and alive. "I, actually, haven't talked to anyone in a long time," he confessed.

"If you're not running away from anything, wouldn't you rather be in a place where there are actual people?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"People can't be trusted. It doesn't matter how close to you they are or once were. The moment you turn your back, they stab you. And sometimes it doesn't just hurt, it destroys." He regretted the words the instant they fell from his lips. She was disturbed by their morbidity, her gray eyes growing round in her pale face.

"Is that why you're here? Did someone destroy you?" The question was spoken too softly to spark the fire of rage. She held his gaze unwaveringly for the full length of a minute, but he knew that the steely glint in his eyes protected the façade.

"I don't know what to call you."

Her eyelids flickered, golden eyelashes teasingly ghosting over her cheeks. Disappointment wore her like an old robe, dragged too often through the mud. "My name," she realized impassively. "I can't remember it."

"I know," he said quietly, and he itched to reach across the table and raise her chin. "You can choose any name you like."

"I… I don't know." As if complying to an unspoken urge, she met his eyes with her own. "You choose."

"Okay," he said carefully, pretending to thoroughly deliberate the detail. "Jenny," he decided.

"Okay."

"You're not eating."

"I don't like it."

He shrugged indifferently and drew the bowl towards him, polishing the refuse of her breakfast off quickly. "You can take anything you want from the fridge. If you don't know what to do with it, just ask."

She nodded.

Derek pushed back from his chair, coming to his feet. He'd barely lifted his plate before she was beside him in a flash, delicately placing one tiny hand on his bare arm. The contrast of her milky white complexion against his own tanned skin was stunning. Her touch was light, soft but it sent his entire system stumbling into something that felt all too wild, and he was afraid she was growing on him. He moved his gaze from her hand to her downcast eyes.

"I… if you don't mind, I'll get the dishes. I'll clean up." Her hand lingered for a moment longer before it slipped away awkwardly. "I just need to do something because I keep thinking that…"

"Okay," he cut her off, nodding curtly. He brushed past her on his way out of the kitchen, suppressing the rising desire to glance back and marvel at how well she fit in the modest kitchen.

The door to his extravagant office was pushed gently from the outside.

He lifted his stare from the post-op notes perched on his desk to the familiar form of the man standing by the door.

"When did you last see her?"

Derek smiled humorlessly and leaned back into the high-backed leather chair. "Well, this is rich," he muttered, incredulous.

"I'm serious, Derek."

"Of course you are." He pinned the other man with a piercing glare that made him shift uncomfortably on the spot, but there was something resolute about the stubborn set of his broad shoulders. "Friday," he said quietly.

"You didn't see her over the weekend?" he prodded.

"No. What's with the questions?"

"Weren't you at the Brownstone yesterday morning?"

Derek furrowed his brow. He was starting to get irritated if not angry. "It's interesting that you're spying on me."

"She's dead, Derek."

"What?"


And that's that...

So Derek's not being the nicest person on earth at the moment... but that's understandable. She still doesn't remember anything, and they really sort of dismissed the ring as not hers. She's not convinced but Derek seems to be. The stuff in italics is Derek's flashback. No comment in that one -grins-

Thanks for reading:)