Sorry if this chapter is messed up, I had it up but deleted it off fanfiction by accident. If you see any mistakes let me know, since I had to re-type the whole thing from memeory.
I stay where I am for a while, trying to think of what she was going to say. After a while, despite her warning, I walk back out and grab the newspaper from the balcony and sit back down. It's not surprising that she kept it from me, I would have panicked if I saw it before she explained.
'FBI Agent Murders Detective; Still at Large'
I skim through the article, and it's slightly comforting to see how misinformed these people are. They think I'm dead. And if they're wrong about that…then they must be wrong about other things too. After all, the article is very vague. There's really no explanation of what happened…that day. I search the page; but the only other thing I see is the woman's picture that the bottom. Below it is a caption.
'Special Agent Natara Williams'
A memory hits me with the force of a train, and without even really knowing what I'm doing I jump to my feet and drop the paper in shock.
"I'm detective Mal Fallon" I say, introducing myself to the woman who stands before me.
"Special Agent Natara Williams". She has a camera in her hands and several police officers stand around her.
"Can I call you Nat?"
She frowns "You can call me Special Agent Williams".
I try and hold onto that memory, but it's like trying to hold onto smoke with my bare hands. Already the details are trickling away, like where I was and what exactly Natara looked like that day. But I know something; a name.
"Mal?" I hear Natara call. She must not have gone to bed after all, and probably heard the dull thump as the newspaper hit the floor. "Is everything alright?".
As she enters the room my eyes lock on her, and she stares back at me strangely. "Nat?" is all I'm able to say.
She gasps, one hands flying to her mouth. Her eyes go wide, and a second later her face splits into her biggest smile yet. "You remember!" she cries, crossing the room and throwing her arms around me.
"Not much…just that" I say, hugging her back.
"But if you remember that" she says "who says you can't keep remembering things?".
She hugs me tighter. I know she's getting ahead of herself, but I can't just stomp out the little hope she has. Me getting my memories back is the only thing that can buy her freedom.
It suddenly hits me that I've done this before. Hugged her. Everything about this is familiar; the way her thin but strong arms wrap around my neck, her height, the scent of her shampoo. And with that brings another memory…almost. More like the ghost of one. The memory of a feeling I must have once had.
Mal Fallon loved this woman. And I do too, I love Natara with such a passion that even a bullet in my brain can't change that. It's the one thing that no one can take away. At least, no one can take it away from me. Natara obviously doesn't feel the same way. She's engaged to someone else. But if she was…why would she give all that up for me?
"Nat?" I say again. She pulls away. Her eyes lock on me, her hazel-browns meeting mine, still that alluring almond shape . "Why are you doing this?".
"I told you, you're my best friend. I don't know what I would do if I lost you". She lets go and her eyes drop to the carpet. There's something she's not telling me. I can see her bite her lip, shifting her weight nervously. "Also…that day…you saved my life".
For some reason, this doesn't come as a shock to me. Like somewhere deep down I always knew what I did. But still…I don't know how I saved her life. I don't know exactly what I did. "How? I mean…what happened that day?".
"You know that, you were were shot".
"But I don't know how".
She sighs. I don't blame her for withholding this information, since it must have been a horrible experience for her. But I need to know. We go over and sit down just like we did before; her on the couch, myself on the chair. She sighs again before she begins. "It was just supposed to be a regular old case" she says "this guy's wife disappeared, and we were supposed to take him in for questioning. We went to his house…but he made a run for it. We told him we just wanted to talk, but he kept running" she shakes her head "I was so stupid. I fired a warning shot…I was afraid he was going to try and fight his way out. But I think I scared him too much…and something snapped. He tried to get out from his basement, and we chased after him. I-I didn't realize he had a gun until we were about to be shot at point-blank range".
She pauses for a second. Her shoulders shake slightly, but her face remains the same. She does not cry, but I can tell by her face she's upset. "H-He told us to drop our guns and kick them over. It wouldn't have mattered if we did, he was going to shoot us anyway. I did what he said, I shouldn't have, but I did". She stops again, and I don't rush her. "But you wouldn't. He was going to shoot me…but you stepped in front. You told him he would have to shoot you first. I said something, I don't even know what anymore, and you turned your head for just a second. That's when he shot you".
"He used your gun" I say. She nods. "How did you survive after that?".
"I didn't do anything, he just left. I couldn't pursue him, since I had to stay with you, and later I realized that was his plan. He left me behind as a scapegoat. He had my gun, so there were no prints to prove I didn't do it. Everyone just figured I dumped it after I shot you. People started pointing fingers just after we found out about your condition, and I knew I had to make a run for it. After about a week in the hospital you were stable; and I contacted my father. He helped me get you out, and helped me get you the help you needed".
"But what was it that we were fighting about that morning?" I ask.
She glances at the clock "It's late…I'll explain in the morning". She yawns, and this time I don't think she's just acting tired. She actually looks like it.
I see movement in the corner of my eye and turn my head, where I can see a face in a part of the window that the curtain can't cover. I get up and walk closer, and the face doesn't move. It takes a minute to realize it's my reflection. I stare for a moment; trying to remember my own face. I'm only in my early thirties, with chocolate brown hair and surprisingly blue eyes. I turn around again, about to ask Natara how old I really am, but I see that she's fallen asleep. Her shoulders rise and fall gently as she breathes, but otherwise she's still. She's curled on her side, her face more serene than I can ever remember seeing it. I know I won't be able to wake her while she's like this, I don't want to destroy her peace.
I know it would be best to got to bed, but I don't want to. Part of me, probably the part that wanted to protect her from being shot, wants to stay behind and make sure she's safe. I want nothing more than to curl up next to her, to wrap my arms around her so I can feel her breathe. I want to sleep with her; but I mean that in the most literal and innocent sense of the phrase. Because that's really want I want to do, lie next to her as she sleeps. But she's engaged to another man and I'm the one who took that from her, she's breathtakingly beautiful while I have a bullet-wound on the back of my head, and she's incredibly intelligent while I can barely remember my own name. In addition to all that I lack the courage, and I end up leaving her alone and going back to bed. I don't sleep, my mind is too busy. Instead I sit on the end of the bed, my head in my hands, grieving for the loss of whatever life I left behind; mourning the death of Mal Fallon.