Disclaimer: Let's see. Broke. Still working for a living. Not famous. Name not Joss Whedon. So that must mean that I don't own any of the characters that people recognise. More's the pity. Ahh well.
Spoilers: This was written about half way through season one ATS, so anything prior to that.
Authors Note: No malice is intended towards those that are mentally and physically disabled. I'd been watching 12 Monkeys and Patch Adams when this idea came to me. I know that these illnesses are debilitating and serious. Okay, now that I've got that understood (I hope) please R&R.
Rating: And we're still in the PG section.
Chapter 3
She walked in to the room early in the morning, surprising Angel. He was sitting, drawing with a crayon. It was crude, but she could see that it was a face, cruelly distorted. She jumped when she recognised that it was a vampire. She put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump and swing round quickly.
"Angel?" She queried softly. He relaxed, his heart thumping in his chest.
"Sorry. I had a bad night last night. I'm really jumpy this morning." He looked around at the others. Richard was still running around, beating himself up. David was staring up at one of the lights in the ceiling, talking animatedly to it. Miss Betty was staring at the television, watching an evangelistic show of some sort. "And this place is driving me mad." He paused for a second, then burst out laughing. After a few moments, he looked up at Buffy, who wasn't smiling with him. "Get it? This is a mad house, and it's driving me mad!?"
"I get it, Angel. But you're not mad."
"No?" He asked sharply. "Then how do you explain that?" He gestured to the picture with his hand. "Whatever that is, it's not human. Or not normal, any way. And the dreams I had last night? Well, they weren't what you'd call sane." He was inexplicably angry, and it felt good. "No wonder I got locked up here."
"Angel, you're not mad. And you're not locked up here. We're in the process of getting you released." He snorted in disbelief.
"That's what Dr Julian said when I last saw him." He smiled suddenly, but it wasn't a warm smile. "I fit in here. Everyone has only a first name. I used to be proud of the fact that I had a last name. Little did I know what that meant. John Doe!" He smashed his fist down on the table in anger, and was surprised when he heard a loud crack, and watched as the old wooden table developed a split, right down the middle. He looked up at Buffy, his eyes wide.
"Angel." She said slowly. "Can you wait another day for answers? The Director, Professor Matthews told us the forms would be clear by then, and we could take you out of here."
"Professor Matthews?" He asked her.
"Yes, Sylvia Matthews." She sat down beside him on the bench. "We've been in contact with her for about a week now, when we suspected that you were who we were looking for. She's willing to let us take you because since I first came to see you, there's been a marked improvement in your state of mind. Three days ago, you were giving me a tissue because you didn't want me to get 'icky'. Today you're moody, argumentative and thank God, broody!" She was smiling as she said this, and he had no idea why. It didn't sound like something to be happy about it.
"That's good?" He asked dubiously.
"That's perfect!" She reached out and touched his cheek softly. "Angel, you are a moody, argumentative and broody person by nature. Every day, you are more yourself. And as much as this will scare you, you are starting to remember. But can you just wait until I get you out of here, tomorrow morning? Until then, try not to dwell on the dreams you're having." He nodded reluctantly.
"And this?" He asked, looking at the drawing he'd made. She ripped it off the pad lying on the table and folded it up.
"Tomorrow, I promise." She checked her watch, then smiled. "I managed to get them to agree to a longer visit today, so let's go over where it's more comfortable." She stood up and walked over to the couches, and Angel followed her. She sat down, curling her feet up underneath her. Angel sat on the same couch, on the opposite end.
"Now what?" Angel asked after a brief silence.
"Well, it won't mean much to you right now, but I think I'll tell you what I've been doing since I last saw you. I mean, before I lost you. Um, that is, before..."
"Before I lost my memory?"
"Exactly. Okay. Deep breath, Buffy. You and I were in the same business for a long time. I've been doing what I do since I was 15 years old, so it's been a while now. Just over ten years. When I was just past 18, you went to LA and I stayed in Sunnydale - where I still live, by the way. You became a PI in LA. That's a Private investigator. I stayed in the same business. Went to Uni, graduated with honours, somehow. Still haven't figured out how I managed to get study in with my other job. About three years ago, broke up with the then boyfriend. I'd been with him for about three years, so I figured it was time to go it alone. Besides, I was kind of waiting for Liam to come back."
"An ex?" He asked, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest.
"You could say that." She said with a little smile that looked all soft and warm. He wished she would look like that for him.
"What next?"
"Well, after averting a few major disasters, and a couple of minor mishaps, things settled down for a while. Got pretty quiet. Then.."
"What do you do for a living?" He asked, noticing that she'd managed to skirt the issue. She looked uncomfortable for a minute.
"Can that be something you ask me tomorrow?" She asked him. He got flashes from his dreams the night before and decided he didn't want to know right now, after all. He nodded agreement.
"So, this Liam guy. You still waiting?"
"Still. Getting a little impatient with him. But I figure he's got things to sort out. He'll come round eventually."
"You must love him, then." It hurt to ask, but he had to know. She looked at him, and there was that smile again, all soft and warm.
"This will sound sappy, but he'd understand. He has my heart, I have his. Simple as that."
"Sappy, but nice anyway. Lucky guy." He suddenly wanted to change the subject.
"Is there anyone else that I'll be meeting tomorrow?"
"Well, there's Cordelia and Wesley. And Xander. Though I'm not too sure he should be there."
"Why not?" He asked her. "And what kind of name is Xander? Sounds like a name from TV."
"Actually it's Alexander, but we all call him Xander. And you and he didn't exactly get on when you lived in Sunnydale. But it just might help you along." He shrugged.
"If I can't remember him, then I probably won't be stressed about our history, will I?"
"Point. Now Cordelia and Wesley are your employees. But more than that. They're like your family here. You all work together, have for close to five years now. And with the kind of investigating you do, that's brought you really close. Wesley developed 'allergies' when we told him we'd found you. Cordy cried as well. You've got a couple of other people that work with you, but those two are closest to you. Xander, as I said, is an old friend of both of us. Well, me anyway."
"And how do I know Giles and Willow?"
"Same as Xander. Friends of mine that became your friends by default. Our line of work kind of throws unlikelies together and they either have to mesh or get out. No choice. Which is why we know so many different people."
"Fair enough. Can you tell me how long I've been missing for, at least?" He asked her.
"You went missing almost six months ago. Went out on a job with Cordelia, and ran off after you'd finished it. Didn't come back. I can't explain any more until tomorrow - more of that stuff that you're not quite ready to hear yet." Her tone was apologetic.
"That's okay. Can you tell me any more of your history?"
"Some of it. Most of it I'll tell you tomorrow." She paused for a moment. "Angel, don't think that I'm trying to drag you along, to draw out what you can't remember. It's just that....." She looked around at the ward. "This is the wrong place to tell you what we need to." She smiled crookedly. "I may just get locked up, too!" There was a moment's silence, while they both thought about that. Then Angel took a deep breath.
"You've told me all about your friends. Our friends. What about you? Are you a friend? A relative? How did I know you?" He watched as she shifted uncomfortably for a few minutes, very quiet.
"Look, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine."
"No, Angel. I think I do need to tell you. We were...lovers. Of a sort. When I was in highschool. But we .......realised that we couldn't be lovers and do our jobs at the same time. That's why you went to LA...... So that we could continue our work without causing each other pain." She still didn't sound comfortable talking about it.
"Oh." He said softly. Then he frowned. "Highschool? How old am I?" For some reason, that set her off laughing, which was a big change to what she was like a second before.
"Was that funny?" He asked, smiling slightly. She had a nice laugh.
"You have no idea how funny that is. For now, let's just say that you're a little bit older than I am."
"More of that stuff that you can't tell me right now?" He asked her with a sly grin.
"Uhuh." She checked her watch. "Damn. I've got to go now, Angel. I'm meeting with Sylvia in about five minutes to go over the final release papers for you. I'll see you tomorrow morning, and we'll get out of here." She stood and he followed. They got to the door and she turned back, her eyes very calm and serious.
"Don't dream tonight, will you?" She commanded him.
"I'll try not to. But I don't have all that much control over my subconscience."
"In that case, try to remember the last ten years? Instead of what was before. It will ease you." He saluted her gently, grinning all the while. She smiled back, opened the door and left.
He watched her go, standing on the other side of the glass, hands loosely at his side. Richard gamboled over, and stopped, watching her leave with him.
"Pretty girl, cave-man." He said, grinning like a loon.
"Yup." Angel replied, watching as she turned the corner and left his sight. He turned away and walked over to the couches to sit down for a while, thinking over what she'd told him.
"You're leaving us soon, aren't you, cave-man?" Miss Betty asked him, never taking her eyes off the television.
"I am. Tomorrow." He watched with her. For the last time.
"Will you come back and visit?" She whispered, wringing her hands together in her lap.
"I will."
"Good." And that was his good bye with Miss Betty. Slowly, throughout the rest of the morning, and into the afternoon, he said goodbye to every inmate in the ward. Most of them knew him, and were sorry to see him go. He was always helping someone up when they fell down. Or protecting the quiet, shy people. Like Miss Betty. They'd learned to appreciate and rely on his help. Now it was going.
Just before lights out, when they were all watching TV quietly, David got up and walked up to him. He stuck his chin out, doing a very good impression of an insulted bull-dog. Angel leaned around, finding the TV again. David moved, blocking his view once more.
"Yes?" Angel asked, finally looking up at him.
"You going?" David asked him.
"I'm watching TV right now, David. I'll go to bed soon."
"Not what I meant. You getting out of here?" David was growling.
"Tomorrow." Angel braced, readying for a fight. But David suddenly collapsed, wailing, against his legs.
"You can't! You can't! It would......it would change the symmetry here. Then the world would collapse! We must have ten ten! Ten ten, don't you understand? Without you, it's not ten ten anymore! It's something else. It's....it's wrong!" Angel was loosing feeling in his legs, David was holding on so tight. One of the nurses got up off his chair, coming towards them. Angel shook his head.
"David, it's going to be okay. I have it on authority that it's not ten ten at all. It's fifty fifty. But I was told it wasn't what's in here. But what's out there. Everywhere. It has to be fifty fifty. As long as it's fifty fifty, we will all still be here." David had drawn back by this time, and was looking at him doubtfully.
"Who told you?" He asked suspiciously.
"The PTB." Angel said, patting his finger against the side of his nose. David's eyes widened.
"The PTB? Really! You talk to the PTB? And they told you that? Wow! PTB. Fifty fifty PTB!" He started chanting, standing up and rocking with it. "PTB PTB. Fifty Fifty PTB." Angel watched, wondering what on earth had prompted him to say those three letters together. David liked them, though, so that was a good thing. Just then the nurses came in, announcing lights out. Angel, lying on his bed, could hear David three rooms down, still chanting. He fell asleep listening to it.
Spoilers: This was written about half way through season one ATS, so anything prior to that.
Authors Note: No malice is intended towards those that are mentally and physically disabled. I'd been watching 12 Monkeys and Patch Adams when this idea came to me. I know that these illnesses are debilitating and serious. Okay, now that I've got that understood (I hope) please R&R.
Rating: And we're still in the PG section.
Chapter 3
She walked in to the room early in the morning, surprising Angel. He was sitting, drawing with a crayon. It was crude, but she could see that it was a face, cruelly distorted. She jumped when she recognised that it was a vampire. She put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump and swing round quickly.
"Angel?" She queried softly. He relaxed, his heart thumping in his chest.
"Sorry. I had a bad night last night. I'm really jumpy this morning." He looked around at the others. Richard was still running around, beating himself up. David was staring up at one of the lights in the ceiling, talking animatedly to it. Miss Betty was staring at the television, watching an evangelistic show of some sort. "And this place is driving me mad." He paused for a second, then burst out laughing. After a few moments, he looked up at Buffy, who wasn't smiling with him. "Get it? This is a mad house, and it's driving me mad!?"
"I get it, Angel. But you're not mad."
"No?" He asked sharply. "Then how do you explain that?" He gestured to the picture with his hand. "Whatever that is, it's not human. Or not normal, any way. And the dreams I had last night? Well, they weren't what you'd call sane." He was inexplicably angry, and it felt good. "No wonder I got locked up here."
"Angel, you're not mad. And you're not locked up here. We're in the process of getting you released." He snorted in disbelief.
"That's what Dr Julian said when I last saw him." He smiled suddenly, but it wasn't a warm smile. "I fit in here. Everyone has only a first name. I used to be proud of the fact that I had a last name. Little did I know what that meant. John Doe!" He smashed his fist down on the table in anger, and was surprised when he heard a loud crack, and watched as the old wooden table developed a split, right down the middle. He looked up at Buffy, his eyes wide.
"Angel." She said slowly. "Can you wait another day for answers? The Director, Professor Matthews told us the forms would be clear by then, and we could take you out of here."
"Professor Matthews?" He asked her.
"Yes, Sylvia Matthews." She sat down beside him on the bench. "We've been in contact with her for about a week now, when we suspected that you were who we were looking for. She's willing to let us take you because since I first came to see you, there's been a marked improvement in your state of mind. Three days ago, you were giving me a tissue because you didn't want me to get 'icky'. Today you're moody, argumentative and thank God, broody!" She was smiling as she said this, and he had no idea why. It didn't sound like something to be happy about it.
"That's good?" He asked dubiously.
"That's perfect!" She reached out and touched his cheek softly. "Angel, you are a moody, argumentative and broody person by nature. Every day, you are more yourself. And as much as this will scare you, you are starting to remember. But can you just wait until I get you out of here, tomorrow morning? Until then, try not to dwell on the dreams you're having." He nodded reluctantly.
"And this?" He asked, looking at the drawing he'd made. She ripped it off the pad lying on the table and folded it up.
"Tomorrow, I promise." She checked her watch, then smiled. "I managed to get them to agree to a longer visit today, so let's go over where it's more comfortable." She stood up and walked over to the couches, and Angel followed her. She sat down, curling her feet up underneath her. Angel sat on the same couch, on the opposite end.
"Now what?" Angel asked after a brief silence.
"Well, it won't mean much to you right now, but I think I'll tell you what I've been doing since I last saw you. I mean, before I lost you. Um, that is, before..."
"Before I lost my memory?"
"Exactly. Okay. Deep breath, Buffy. You and I were in the same business for a long time. I've been doing what I do since I was 15 years old, so it's been a while now. Just over ten years. When I was just past 18, you went to LA and I stayed in Sunnydale - where I still live, by the way. You became a PI in LA. That's a Private investigator. I stayed in the same business. Went to Uni, graduated with honours, somehow. Still haven't figured out how I managed to get study in with my other job. About three years ago, broke up with the then boyfriend. I'd been with him for about three years, so I figured it was time to go it alone. Besides, I was kind of waiting for Liam to come back."
"An ex?" He asked, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest.
"You could say that." She said with a little smile that looked all soft and warm. He wished she would look like that for him.
"What next?"
"Well, after averting a few major disasters, and a couple of minor mishaps, things settled down for a while. Got pretty quiet. Then.."
"What do you do for a living?" He asked, noticing that she'd managed to skirt the issue. She looked uncomfortable for a minute.
"Can that be something you ask me tomorrow?" She asked him. He got flashes from his dreams the night before and decided he didn't want to know right now, after all. He nodded agreement.
"So, this Liam guy. You still waiting?"
"Still. Getting a little impatient with him. But I figure he's got things to sort out. He'll come round eventually."
"You must love him, then." It hurt to ask, but he had to know. She looked at him, and there was that smile again, all soft and warm.
"This will sound sappy, but he'd understand. He has my heart, I have his. Simple as that."
"Sappy, but nice anyway. Lucky guy." He suddenly wanted to change the subject.
"Is there anyone else that I'll be meeting tomorrow?"
"Well, there's Cordelia and Wesley. And Xander. Though I'm not too sure he should be there."
"Why not?" He asked her. "And what kind of name is Xander? Sounds like a name from TV."
"Actually it's Alexander, but we all call him Xander. And you and he didn't exactly get on when you lived in Sunnydale. But it just might help you along." He shrugged.
"If I can't remember him, then I probably won't be stressed about our history, will I?"
"Point. Now Cordelia and Wesley are your employees. But more than that. They're like your family here. You all work together, have for close to five years now. And with the kind of investigating you do, that's brought you really close. Wesley developed 'allergies' when we told him we'd found you. Cordy cried as well. You've got a couple of other people that work with you, but those two are closest to you. Xander, as I said, is an old friend of both of us. Well, me anyway."
"And how do I know Giles and Willow?"
"Same as Xander. Friends of mine that became your friends by default. Our line of work kind of throws unlikelies together and they either have to mesh or get out. No choice. Which is why we know so many different people."
"Fair enough. Can you tell me how long I've been missing for, at least?" He asked her.
"You went missing almost six months ago. Went out on a job with Cordelia, and ran off after you'd finished it. Didn't come back. I can't explain any more until tomorrow - more of that stuff that you're not quite ready to hear yet." Her tone was apologetic.
"That's okay. Can you tell me any more of your history?"
"Some of it. Most of it I'll tell you tomorrow." She paused for a moment. "Angel, don't think that I'm trying to drag you along, to draw out what you can't remember. It's just that....." She looked around at the ward. "This is the wrong place to tell you what we need to." She smiled crookedly. "I may just get locked up, too!" There was a moment's silence, while they both thought about that. Then Angel took a deep breath.
"You've told me all about your friends. Our friends. What about you? Are you a friend? A relative? How did I know you?" He watched as she shifted uncomfortably for a few minutes, very quiet.
"Look, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine."
"No, Angel. I think I do need to tell you. We were...lovers. Of a sort. When I was in highschool. But we .......realised that we couldn't be lovers and do our jobs at the same time. That's why you went to LA...... So that we could continue our work without causing each other pain." She still didn't sound comfortable talking about it.
"Oh." He said softly. Then he frowned. "Highschool? How old am I?" For some reason, that set her off laughing, which was a big change to what she was like a second before.
"Was that funny?" He asked, smiling slightly. She had a nice laugh.
"You have no idea how funny that is. For now, let's just say that you're a little bit older than I am."
"More of that stuff that you can't tell me right now?" He asked her with a sly grin.
"Uhuh." She checked her watch. "Damn. I've got to go now, Angel. I'm meeting with Sylvia in about five minutes to go over the final release papers for you. I'll see you tomorrow morning, and we'll get out of here." She stood and he followed. They got to the door and she turned back, her eyes very calm and serious.
"Don't dream tonight, will you?" She commanded him.
"I'll try not to. But I don't have all that much control over my subconscience."
"In that case, try to remember the last ten years? Instead of what was before. It will ease you." He saluted her gently, grinning all the while. She smiled back, opened the door and left.
He watched her go, standing on the other side of the glass, hands loosely at his side. Richard gamboled over, and stopped, watching her leave with him.
"Pretty girl, cave-man." He said, grinning like a loon.
"Yup." Angel replied, watching as she turned the corner and left his sight. He turned away and walked over to the couches to sit down for a while, thinking over what she'd told him.
"You're leaving us soon, aren't you, cave-man?" Miss Betty asked him, never taking her eyes off the television.
"I am. Tomorrow." He watched with her. For the last time.
"Will you come back and visit?" She whispered, wringing her hands together in her lap.
"I will."
"Good." And that was his good bye with Miss Betty. Slowly, throughout the rest of the morning, and into the afternoon, he said goodbye to every inmate in the ward. Most of them knew him, and were sorry to see him go. He was always helping someone up when they fell down. Or protecting the quiet, shy people. Like Miss Betty. They'd learned to appreciate and rely on his help. Now it was going.
Just before lights out, when they were all watching TV quietly, David got up and walked up to him. He stuck his chin out, doing a very good impression of an insulted bull-dog. Angel leaned around, finding the TV again. David moved, blocking his view once more.
"Yes?" Angel asked, finally looking up at him.
"You going?" David asked him.
"I'm watching TV right now, David. I'll go to bed soon."
"Not what I meant. You getting out of here?" David was growling.
"Tomorrow." Angel braced, readying for a fight. But David suddenly collapsed, wailing, against his legs.
"You can't! You can't! It would......it would change the symmetry here. Then the world would collapse! We must have ten ten! Ten ten, don't you understand? Without you, it's not ten ten anymore! It's something else. It's....it's wrong!" Angel was loosing feeling in his legs, David was holding on so tight. One of the nurses got up off his chair, coming towards them. Angel shook his head.
"David, it's going to be okay. I have it on authority that it's not ten ten at all. It's fifty fifty. But I was told it wasn't what's in here. But what's out there. Everywhere. It has to be fifty fifty. As long as it's fifty fifty, we will all still be here." David had drawn back by this time, and was looking at him doubtfully.
"Who told you?" He asked suspiciously.
"The PTB." Angel said, patting his finger against the side of his nose. David's eyes widened.
"The PTB? Really! You talk to the PTB? And they told you that? Wow! PTB. Fifty fifty PTB!" He started chanting, standing up and rocking with it. "PTB PTB. Fifty Fifty PTB." Angel watched, wondering what on earth had prompted him to say those three letters together. David liked them, though, so that was a good thing. Just then the nurses came in, announcing lights out. Angel, lying on his bed, could hear David three rooms down, still chanting. He fell asleep listening to it.
