A/N: Reposting this because of one minor mistake. Same notes apply about the name change, and that Gabe will now be known as Erik, when he's with Merrill. Though Mac and Judson will still refer to him as Gabe. I'm sorry if this confuses people. Enjoy.

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Where am I? he thought, struggling to make his hazel open so that he could see. What happened? Was that a finger that moved? The sensation of movement ran through his mind again, and he realized that he was indeed moving his hand. Yep, it was. Okay, so eyes open. . .now. Slowly his hazel eyes obeyed the command and peeled themselves open to reveal a gray room lit by a single lamp. Gradually he maneuvered his body into a seated position on the soft bed he'd been laying on. Where am I? the question once again crossed his mind.

With a slight groan at how stiff his muscles were, he pushed himself from the bed. Spying a desk against the far wall he moved toward it. Maybe there's something there that will tell me where I am? he thought as he began to riffle through the items on the desk. There wasn't much there to look at. A desk calendar that was out of date, he may not of had much clue about where or who he was but at least knew what year it was. Who's that? he gently picked up a photo in a leather bound frame. The photo was just a quick snapshot, only a four by six, and the man in it wore a smile that told of a happy moment in someone's life. Wonder whose? he sat the frame back in it's place with a slight feeling of sadness in his chest.

"You took that," a soft accented voice said, filling the room that had been silence causing him to jump slightly as his hand dropped away from the leather frame.

"I did?" He managed a weak smile at the man standing just inside the threshold of the room. "I do. . . I don't remember."

"It was in the fall," the man said, stepping further into the room. "nearly three years ago. Before. . ." the man's voice faltered as he approached the young man by the desk. "We'll talk about that later." He struck the slight sad from his voice just as quickly as it had weaved it's way there.

"Who are you?"

"Gavin Merrill," he extended his hand to the confused young man. "And you are Erik Merrill."

"Do I live here?" He turned away from the desk and Gavin's out stretched hand to take in the rest of the room..

"Yes, when you're home on holiday from university." Gavin followed the young man's gaze around the room. "You decorated it yourself."

"My name's Erik?" he asked almost uncertain if it even sounded correct to his ears.

"Yes." His lips peeled back in tooth baring smile. He's forgotten who is. Now all there is to do, is make him remember who I want him to think that he was.

"Are you my father?" Erik turned sharply to face the slightly smaller, Gavin.

"Yes and no," he answered cryptically. "I'm your uncle. You see I adopted you when you were ten after your mother passed away of cancer. She was never certain who your father was, and I never asked."

"Can I call you uncle?" he asked, boring his pain filled hazel eyes at the man calling himself his uncle . . . father . . . whatever. "I don't remember … what happened to me?"

"It's all right," Gavin softened his voice as he spoke. "You were in an accident two days ago. Though your injuries were minor, the doctors did warn that you might have some minor memory loss."

"Why am I not in a hospital then?"

"You were fine when we left the hospital yesterday," Gavin said, concern flooding him. "Do you not remember?"

"No," he said quietly, eyeing the brunette man standing before him. Why can't I remember? he thought to himself. "I want to remember… I can feel the memories at the back of my mind, but I can't get them to come to the front." He turned away from the slightly shorter man to face the French doors that led outside. "Like a computer program that's been deleted. The information's still there, just not so that it can be accessed easily."

Smiling at Erik's words, Gavin allowed a small chuckle to escape him as he stared after his newly acquired son. There was still just a hint of Gabriel Patterson left in him; a hint that he needed to keep suppressed in the young man while building him into who Gavin Merrill wanted the young man to become. "You and your computers," he explained quickly catching a sharp glance from Erik at him.

"I do?" Erik questioned lazily, moving closer to the doors that he'd been staring at. "What else have I forgotten?" He turned once again to face the slightly shorter, older man who was claiming to be his father.

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"Excuse me, ma'am?" Judson asked with a slight edge of uncertainty to his usually unruffled voice.

"Yes," a woman with died black hair, mud brown eyes and a handsome face filling with fine lines of age, answered; her voice tinged with a somewhat thick French accent.

"I need to get a dive permit for these coordinates." He handed her a sheet of paper with the coordinates that Merrill'd faxed to him that morning. Damn that man, Judson thought as he released his grip on the paper. Mac was right, he continued bitterly with his thoughts, that man would never leave them be unless he were dead. How'd he fake his death? He thought as he absently watched the woman look at the paper and then begin tapping her fingers in rapid succession on the keyboard in front of her.

"I can file the request, monsieur, however I cannot issue the permits today," she said handing him the paper back.

"How long will that take?" He bore his green eyes into the puddles of mud that were her eyes. He hoped that he didn't sound too desperate. God, how he hated that. For once in his life he was almost readable, and he didn't like it. It made him vulnerable for people to be able to read him; and he hated that about himself above what Merrill was doing to them.

"Twenty-four to forty-eight hours," was her simple reply. "Come back then."

"Thank you," he managed to say as he retreated from the office and the building. He wanted to scream that it wasn't okay. He wanted to go back and force them to give him the permits right then. Gabe's life was on the line, and he couldn't wait. No, he didn't want to wait. The sooner that he and Mac got whatever it was that Merrill was after the sooner that they'd have Gabe back and that bastard would be gone from their lives until the next time that he found a treasure that he just had to have.

Slamming the door to the Land Rover, Judson smashed the palm of his hand into the steering wheel. The resulting sting did little to make him feel better, nor did he regret the action. He was more than frustrated. How could he be at such a loss? Not even when Merrill had a gun to Gabe's head last year, was the great Judson Cross at such a loss. This was different, he told himself as he slammed the key into the ignition and turned it over hard, causing the starter to groan and scratch in protest. Gavin Merrill would get his sooner or later, he thought as he put the vehicle into gear and headed back to the Vast Explorer.

"Cross," he barked into the mouthpiece of his small cellular phone.

"It's me," Mackenzie's strained voice filled his ears, allowing him to relax a tiny bit as he turned into traffic.

"It'll be twenty-four to forty-eight hours before we hear anything."

"Sit tight, right?" She sounded tired, almost more tired than he felt. Of course he'd be tired too, if he'd stayed up half the night making phone calls and rousing every favor owed to him from bed in an attempt to find Gabe, like she had. He had wanted to bring her with him to get the permits, but he just didn't have the heart to disturb her after she'd finally stopped making phone calls and gotten to bed.

"Right now I can't think of anything else to do."