AN: Wow! When I get those kinds of reviews I know I'm doing something right! Summer classes have started now and crafting the story will take longer as we get further into it, I'll try to update as frequently as possible.

Lyrics by Madonna and Fred Ebb.

Quote in single quotations from the episode "The World Is Changing".

Chapter 1: Beautiful Stranger

Marriage is not a word; it is a sentence. - King Vidor

It was dark where she woke up. For a moment she was disoriented and confused; her head throbbed and her pulse raced, as though she had been sudden awaken from a deep sleep. She lifted her head and found she could move no further. Disorientation gave way to fear as she realized that she was strapped to the table she was lying on.

A thousand thoughts flew through her head without any time to stick to her consciousness. A door opened and a shaft of light stole into the room. Footsteps clicked across the tiled floor.

"Good afternoon," a crisp, cultured voice greeted her. "I see our Sleeping Beauty is finally awake."

She felt ice-cold hands on her wrists as they undid her restraints. The instant she was released she sprang from the metal table and flung herself at the door- it was locked. Wild-eyed and terrified, she backed against the wall in a defensive position.

"Relax, we are not going to hurt you," his voice was chilling and empty. Artic blue eyes gazed unblinkingly at her from beneath ebony lashes.

"What do you want?" she hazarded; her voice shook uncontrollably.

He arched a dark eyebrow. "We have decided to give you another chance. You will be reeducated and retrained. This," he made a sweeping gesturing in the air, "will be your new home."

"Why do you want me? Why me?"

The man said nothing; he only smiled a peculiar, secretive smile. Finally, he spoke, "We will begin simulations tomorrow morning."

The girl glared at him, suddenly defiant. "And if I refuse?"

He looked at her with barbed condemnation. "If you refuse there is a cemetery plot awaiting you."

She shrank away from him.

"Now," he said viciously. "Come with me."

She demurely followed him into a long dark hallway. "Where are we going?"

The secretive smile returned to his lips. They walked on in silence.

Their journey ended at the doors of a large office. On the other side of the doors waited a tall, eerie man with an oxygen tank. He did not look happy.

"So, Mr. Cox," the man wheezed, "this is the one they think shows so much potential?"

The other man inclined his head slightly.

"Who's they?" she demanded. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Mr. Raines," he told her. "And they are the Triumvirate; they run the Centre and they own you."

She looked baffled- the names meant nothing to her. She shuddered involuntarily at the smile that Raines gave her.

"We are family now," he went on in a manner that was meant to be cheerful. "And a 'family is a tyranny ruled by its weakest member'." His countenance darkened suddenly and he advanced on her. "Right now you are that member. If you want to remain a part of the family and remain alive, you will abide by our rules."

The overwhelming urge to retch swept over her as Raines ran a bony finger down her cheek.

"What do you remember of your past life?"

Her chin dropped to her chest and her stared unseeingly at her clasped hands as she bit her bottom lip hard. "Nothing," she admitted softly.

Raines smiled and turned to Cox. Mr. Cox stepped towards the girl and held out a hand to her.

"Let me refresh your memory- your name is Melpomene."

Mr. Lyle was not a happy man. He did not approve of arranged marriages, unless of course, he was the one doing the arranging. He also had an unpleasant sinking feeling about a marriage put together by Cox and Raines. Not only that, he was a bit suspicious about how chummy the two men were becoming with each other.

Mr. Lyle was a happy man. He did not approve of arranged marriages, unless of course, he was the one doing the arranging. He also had an unpleasant sinking feeling about a marriage put together by Cox and Raines. Not only that, he was a bit suspicious about how chummy the two men were becoming with each other.

"Tell me again why marriage is necessary?" He tossed a disdainful glance at Cox who, along with Raines, was escorting him down the hall to the elevator.

"You'll be negotiating many critical contracts with new clients over the next several months and we want you to be the epitome of the family man," Cox exchanged an amused smile with Mr. Raines. The two appeared to indulge in a private joke.

Lyle rolled his eyes skyward, even grumpier than before. "Just as long as you don't expect me to have any kids," he muttered tetchily.

Cox's smile instantly evaporated. "Why would you mention children?"

The young man shot him a peculiar look. "What's with you?" he snapped, not bothering hide his aggravation. He tried to edge as far from Cox as possible without getting closer to Raines. "You said family man," he went on dryly to point out his discontent with the situation. "Husband I can handle, but I don't," there was a note of finality of on the word, "do Dad."

Cox chuckled in an almost relieved way and gave Lyle a smile even more plastic than normal. "Trust us. This all for the good of the Centre." He clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Yes," Raines hissed in agreement. "Remember that, Lyle- this is for the Centre."

But what's in it for me? He wondered dourly, resisting the urge to shrug Cox's hand off. He straightened his tie with his right hand and a thought came to him. "Listen, if any of the new clients are heads of organized crime units how about getting Parker to do this? She got more digits to spare."

Cox laughed a coarse, hollow laugh. "Relax, Mr. Lyle," the words were more threatening than comforting and he dug his grip into the other man's shoulder. "This task will only be as difficult as you make it."

St. Patrick's Cathedral was an exquisite piece of architectural history. It was the largest decorated gothic-style Catholic Cathedral in the country and had been recognized throughout its history as a center of Catholic life in the nation. The church was certainly not unfamiliar to witnessing weddings; however, it had never witnessed a wedding quite like the one that was currently underway.

The wedding party consisted of Mr. Cox, Mr. Raines, Willie, and several other sweepers, all of whom seemed to be in a more jovial mood that necessary. The groom looked markedly uncomfortable in his charcoal wedding tuxedo.

Lyle was despondent, to say the least. Years of training sealed the nervous energy tightly below the surface so that he did not fidget, but he could not stop the beads of sweat from forming on his temples. His damaged hand ached to the point it was going numb from anxiety. His mind was tormented by images of the recent past- he did not want to go through with this insanity.

When the priest took his place, Lyle began to feel lightheaded. He glanced to his right and left, met by the steely gazes of the sweepers. There was no way out.

For the good of the Centre, he told himself. This is for the good of the Centre. Which is ultimately is for my good…

The strands of the "Wedding March" began to play on one of the Cathedral's three organs heralding the start of the marriage ceremony. He was beginning to feel completely ill as waves of irrational emotions crashed over him. An image finally broke through the walls he had built around his mind- an image of…

The doors to the sanctuary opened and Lyle saw his bride for the first time. His eyes traveled up the length of the richly embroidered gown and into the fearful gaze of his soon-to-be wife. Cox and Raines exchanged delighted smirks at their associate's ashen countenance. His reaction was more than they had hoped for.

Lyle could not take his eyes off of the young girl slowly marching towards him as though headed to her execution. His mind shut down when his throat began to burn. He was going to vomit.

"These little town blues are melting away. I'll make a brand new start of it, in old New York! If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere- it's up to you, New York, New York!"

He was singing again. He had the habit of singing that song when business was slow- and it usually was.

Kip Buchanan struck a charming smile for a middle-aged woman with too much makeup who bought a hot dog and bottled water from him because he was "hot". Kip had a vending cart near the entrance to Strawberry Fields in Central Park from which he sold standard concession items in order to pay his living expenses. Though the handsome, broad shouldered, blonde young man from the Midwest was never in shortage of female patrons, the income was never enough it seemed, once taxes and various fees were paid off. Lucky for him that he was at NYU on an athletic scholarship.

He had been in the City for nearly eight months and was beginning to get a little disillusioned. He had arrived from central Illinois starry-eyed with an appetite for excitement and adventure, neither of which he encountered yet. He was starting to see that Manhattan was like any other big city- noisy, crowded, overwhelming and under-whelming at the same time. Perhaps he had seen Oliver and Company one too many times for he had arrived in the City expecting something big to happen right away. He knew he had moxie, talent and drive; he knew he could do big things if given the opportunity.

Kip wanted to be an actor; first on Broadway then on the silver screen, but, he discovered, so did everyone else. He was a bit ahead of the game he reminded himself- he had accrued a tidy resume doing theatre in Chicago several summers in a row. However, that did little to console him as he worked for barely above minimum wage while waiting for his big break. To make matters worse, the monotony of the mundane was stifling- school, work, work, school- day in and day out and that was it. Despite having a pile of girls' phone numbers accumulating under his mattress, Kip wasn't dating anyone since he had found that the New York girls were falling radically short of his expectations and standards. And so his life remained boring and dull. He hadn't even so much as witnessed a mugging. His days continued to trudge by at a staggeringly slow pace.

Until two weeks later…

Haven't we met? You're some kind of beautiful stranger… You could be good for me… I've had the taste for danger…

Kip was trying to pass the time with his co-workers and fellow students, Anthony and Sierra. Anthony, a slight twenty-year-old from Russia, was busy doodling on a napkins as customers watched. Sierra was ignoring the patrons all together and doing her best to flirt with the uninterested Kip. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty- dark-haired and curvy, she was very attractive; or sweet- she was that too. She was just too normal; too safe for Kip's taste- he wanted drama and mystery. He smiled wanly at her.

Turning away from Sierra, he saw the most marvelously beautiful girl.

She wandering through the throng of tourists like a lost child. Heads turned in her direction, wolf whistles rang out; Kip wasn't the only one who had noticed her.

Holy cow! Was all that rattled through the boy's head. There was no other way to describe her.

She was petite with a slim dancer's figure that curved in all the right places and had Little Mermaid length hair. Kip had never seen hair quite like hers before. It was the hue of a sunset back home, but the color seemed to move on its own as though it were alive. When the sunlight hit it, her hair seemed to be on fire.

He was completely smitten.

Kip tried to get her attention, but she never once looked at him. She was intensely preoccupied with the empty bench before her. Her manner was strange, confused even; she didn't seem to comprehend the environment around her.

"Hey, check out the damsel in distress!"

Kip was suddenly aware of Anthony's presence next to him. He frowned and grabbed his friend's arm.

"Where are you going?"

Anthony gave his friend a quizzical look. "To lend assistance to the fair maiden," he said trying shake off Kip's grip. "What are you doing?"

There was a slight scuffle between the two boys with Kip finally emerging as the victor. He left Anthony and an annoyed Sierra behind and jogged over to the now seated beauty. People began to gather as the handsome boy came to the beautiful girl. They were so perfect that some wondered if a movie was being filmed. They drew closer. Her oddly colored eyes were enormous- their color and size were enhanced by the deep tan of her skin. They were wild and panicky as they surveyed the mounting crowd.

Kip loved the fact that they had an audience- he was finally getting the drama he longed for. The problem was that the one person he wanted to be drawn to him was the one person who had yet to see him. As he neared her he saw that she sat on the very edge of the bench with her hands out before her, regarding them as though they were some foreign objects she had never seen before.

She's a dream, Kip decided, a living breathing dream! His body tingled with a strange sensation as he sat down next to her. He found it difficult to breath- he felt like he was drowning. He tried to regain his senses and gather his courage to speak to her, but it was disconcerting that she still hadn't noticed him. In his most gentle and comforting voice he asked, "Is everything okay, Miss? Is there anything I can help you with?"

The crowd leaned in as she finally lifted her head. Kip inhaled sharply when her incredible stormy gray eyes locked onto his hazel ones. Her brow furrowed as she tried to make some sense of his presence. Her eyes closed briefly and she reached out suddenly and grabbed onto his arm. Kip could not stop grinning as the crowd "aww-ed" at the sight of them.

His dream girl did not smile; she merely clung to him for dear life. After awhile, her mouth began to move, but her lips had trouble forming words. "I-I," her voice was so drained by fear it was difficult to hear her. "I can't find…" She took her hand back abruptly.

Kip saw she had no purse or any other belongings with her and assumed that must be what she had lost. Maybe she had been the victim of a mugging. She was so afraid and lost that it was all Kip could do not to gather her in his arms and hold her.

"What's your name?" he asked kindly.

She looked up at him sharply as though just realizing that he was there. Her eyes were stormier than before- more disturbed and almost liquefied. Near tears, she shook her head numbly and shrugged hopelessly.

"I don't know," her whole body shook. "I don't know my name."

If I'm smart then I'll run away, but I'm not so I guess I'll stay… Heaven forbid, I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger…

Two feelings came over Kip at that moment: he was delighted- he finally had his mystery; but he was also guilty over that delight.

It must be terrifying not to know who you are. Kip knew he would have been scared out of his mind.

The crowd, however, was not as accepting as Kip. The word spread quickly about the possible amnesia case. People began to gossip with strangers about the peculiar girl. The throng that surrounded the pair swelled, incalculably fixated on the unfolding drama.

"Amnesia?" harrumphed an ill-tempered woman. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England! Puh-leeze. I'll bet the girl is some actress and this is all some twisted play of hers."

Sierra left Anthony to watch the cart, even though there was no business. This little vixen who was stealing Kip right from under her nose supremely annoyed her. Sierra didn't believe the girl's story either and thought she was some lunatic who got some demented thrill out of preying on the sympathy of unsuspecting people.

I wonder if the state hospital is missing any inmates…

The raven-trussed girl's dark eyes narrowed as she watched Kip gather the slender hands of the impossibly beautiful girl who was everything Sierra was not- fragile, vulnerable, needy. Kip ate up neediness in a girl- he loved to play the hero. Sierra unequivocally hated the girl.

Kip, on the other hand, was unequivocally in love with the girl.

I looked into your eyes and my world came tumbling down… You're the devil in disguise… If I'm smart then I'll run away, but I'm not so I guess I'll stay… Haven't you heard? I fell in love with a beautiful stranger…

"Amnesia?" Sierra scoffed loud enough for the front of the crowd to hear her. "She's faking it!"

The crowded began to turn on the girl spurred on by Sierra. The jealous girl continued to viciously harass the other girl. Kip tensed and frowned ready to lunge at Sierra.

What is wrong with her!

The girl lifted her charcoal eyes to Kip and he could clearly read her terror. She was afraid- afraid of Sierra, the crowd, and… him.

She's afraid of me! His heart sank. She could be afraid of the whole world, just as long as she wasn't afraid of him. The amnesia is real- this is no game! She fears us as if we were going to stone her. Why shouldn't she- she has no idea who she is, let alone who we are.

"I bet I can guess your name," Sierra sneered. She plopped her hands on her hips and leaned into the girl's face.

"Shut up!" Kip hissed. He looked prepared to strike her.

Sierra's cheeks flushed, but she had gone too far to stop. The crowd began to throw out names. The girl's hands went over her ears trying to shut out the voices. She curled her knees to her chest and began to rock back and forth. Sierra's voice went silent as she studied the girl. Before she had only seen face and figure, but now she saw something more. This girl was someone, Sierra could tell by the expensive casual clothes she wore. What bothered Sierra most was that she had no possessions. Who traveled anywhere without something?

Where did you come from?

Kip wrapped his arms around his mystery girl to protect her from the onslaught of names that the mass threw at her. He stared at her vast eyes.

Who are you?

I looked into your face my heart was dancing all over the place… I'd like to change my point of view if I could just forget about you…