There's something about seeing someone unexpected. But where do they know each other from?

Alan stared at the apparation that was standing in Sam's living room, wearing what looked like the blue shirt that he had loaned Sam at one time and never retrieved, and a pair of boxers. The small metallic jingle and clash of his keys hitting the floor went unnoticed as he stared at a face he had worried that he would never see again for the past three years. That face looked up from the stack of magazines it had been examining to turn in Alan's direction. He watched as her hazel eyes lit up and, in a voice barely more than a breath, she said, "You're here. Sam Flynn brought you here."

She came towards him, bare feet tangling in a pile of discarded magazines and books on the floor; legs bumping into the coffee table in her haste to reach him. A smile grew on her face as she grew closer. "I missed you," she told him as she moved nearer to him. "I didn't know if he would help me...but you're here." She wrapped her arms tight around Alan as soon as she was close enough to touch him, burying her face in his chest.

"I missed you, too," Alan said, hugging her back. "How did Sam...? Where...?" He stopped, unable to decide what to ask first.

She drew back slightly to look at his face, her eyes shining. "He fixed your vocal processes!" she said, her voice excited. "And repaired the code damage," she continued, reaching up to touch his cheek gently. "Did he need to change your render to effect the repair?" When she noticed the look of confusion on his face, she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. All that is important is you are here..."

Confused, Alan tilted his head slightly to look her in the eyes. "Fixed my ...vocal processes? Code damage? What are you talking about?"

Now it was the hazel eyes turn to hold a look of confusion. "I don't understand, Rinzler. Do you not...?" She stopped and pulled away from him. "You're not Rinzler," she said, flatly. "You look like him, but you're not." Her hands came up as though to hold herself, only to stop and hover; as if they could not decide if they should cradle her head or wrap around her chest. "Please," she asked, her voice pleading with him. "Where is he?" She took a step back, stumbling a little as she did so.

Alan had no idea what she was talking about. He had been starting to feel as though Flynn's old arcade was a bad omen since the two friends of his that used it as a living space, even if only for a night, had disappeared. At one point he had made Sam promise him that he would never spend the night there; unwilling to risk his godson. While he had never admitted it, he had wondered if he would spend the next twenty years trying to find her as well.

"I need to find him," she said, her eyes frantic as she stumbled back another step. "I need my main program so I can update my parameters if I am expected to function independently. I can't lose him... I've lost him too many times..." The last few words were mumbled, almost inaudible. She stood, weaving a little as she repeated, "Please, please," in a voice that was barely more than a breath.

"KayJay," Alan said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked closer at her. "Are you okay?"

"Where is Rinzler? Have to find him...find RT..." She tried to take another step backwards, only to come close falling as she did so.

"KayJay..."

"No, not KayJ.." she shook her head and lost her balance. She suddenly dropped to the floor, looking like a puppet with half of its strings cut.

Alan bolted to where she had fallen. "Sam!" he yelled, "SAM!" He started to lift her up into his arms, worried by the unfocused expression on her face. "No, no, no...KayJay...stay with me, sweetheart..." he pleaded with her, "don't go to sleep now... SAM!"

A very wet Sam, wearing only a towel, seemed to appear out of thin air as Alan carried her to the couch. "What's wrong? What happened? Alan,...what's going on?"

"I think she's having an insulin reaction," Alan said, breathing hard just a little as he laid her on the couch. His back began to immediately inform him that at his age playing hero meant that he would pay the cost, later. "Get some orange juice ...and hurry!"

Sam nodded and ran the few steps to the kitchen, his wet feet slipping a little on the concrete floor. Grabbing a glass from the dish drying rack, he yanked open the fridge and poured the juice into it. He practically ran back to Alan, who was shaking her and telling her to stay awake a little longer.

"Is this enough?" Sam asked nervously, passing over the glass of orange juice to Alan. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"This will do for the moment," Alan said, taking the glass without even glancing at it, his eyes on the feebly struggling form trying to push him away with uncordinated hands. "I came to drop off some notes for next monday's meeting."

"How long since the last time that she ate?" Alan asked Sam.

"Uh, not really sure." Sam said, nervously watching as Alan held her up in his arms and coaxed her into drinking, ignoring the juice that spilled from the corner of her mouth as he did so. "I haven't seen her eat anything..."

"How long has she been staying at your place?"

Without stopping to think that Alan must have meant the old garage, Sam answered, "I'm not certain. A day...day and a half, maybe?"

Alan turned to give Sam an incredulous look before yelling at him. "You had a diabetic at your place and didn't give her anything to eat for at least a day or a day and a half! SAM! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!"

"I didn't know she was diabetic! And she never said anything about wanting something to eat!" Sam said defensively. "I mean if she was hungry you would think she... Wait a minute... You know that she's diabetic-you know her!?"

"Of course I know KayJay; she's a good friend of mine."

"You know her name!? Alan, I'm not sure that she knows her name, right now..." Sam stopped speaking and swallowed, his attention held by his godfather's steely gaze.

Alan looked at him for a moment before saying, in a steady voice that somehow managed to be as hard as iron, "Samuel Flynn, I am going to make sure that KayJay is alright. When I am certain that she is, you and I are going to have a long talk. We are going to talk about whatever it is that you and Quorra have been up to for the last several months. I am tired of all of the games and secrets. And you are going to explain to me why it is that my friend thinks that I have been 'repaired' somehow; and cannot remember who I am, and apparently, who she is, as well. You can also tell me what she's doing in your underwear, while you're at it." The younger man swallowed hard at that one, feeling like he was still a teenager who had been caught sneaking a girl in through his bedroom window. Alan pointed a finger at him as he continued speaking.
"And, Sam...not having this conversation? Not an option."

The young man that he had raised like a son dropped his head for a moment. Raising it back up to look Alan in the eyes as he raked his fingers through his hair, Sam said, "Well, I'm going to go put some clothes on, then. You're gonna want to get comfortable, Alan. This is going to take a while to go over everything."
But it's one hell of a story."

A/N- So, that's it for this one, folks. I hope you liked it. I will be adding to their story in other works...probably.

Feel free to yell questions, comments, and generalized 'What have you done!'s' an me.