Chapter 4

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing on the bedside table, the screen lighting up the darkened room. Groaning slightly, I reached over and squinted at the caller ID. 'Sheriff Forbes'. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and cleared my throat before answering.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Regis. I hope I didn't wake you too early," Sheriff Forbes said, her tone calm and professional.

"Nah, it's fine. What's up?" I sat up in bed, running a hand through my hair, trying to wake myself up fully.

"I was wondering if you could stop by the department today. There's something I need to discuss with you regarding your case."

I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the clock. It was just past 8:30 a.m. Not too early, but definitely earlier than I was used to these days. "Yeah, I can come by. I'll be there soon."

"Great, I'll be expecting you," she replied before hanging up.

I tossed the phone back onto the table and swung my legs off the couch, stretching as I stood up. The cool air of the room hit me, and I made my way over to the small dresser where my clothes were. After a couple of days of wandering around Mystic Falls with not much to do, I'd built up a pretty decent wardrobe thanks to Hank's generosity. Today, I opted for something casual but presentable—dark blue jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a fitted leather jacket I'd picked up from a thrift store. I laced up a pair of black boots, grabbed my phone, and took one last look in the mirror.

"Good enough," I muttered to myself before heading out the door.

The walk to the Sheriff's Department wasn't long, but it gave me time to think. 'Why's she calling me in? Have they found something?' The prospect of it made my stomach twist a bit. Not out of worry—more out of curiosity. I wasn't exactly hiding anything truly bad, but I also wasn't entirely honest about who I was or where I came from. Still, I knew the chances of her actually finding something were slim.

By the time I reached the Sheriff's Department, the early morning sun had warmed up the town, and there was a steady stream of people going about their day. I walked inside the building, the cool air conditioning immediately hitting my skin as I approached the front desk.

A deputy looked up from his computer as I approached. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, Sheriff Forbes is expecting me," I replied, giving him a nod.

He glanced at a clipboard, then back at me. "Name?"

"Regis."

He scribbled something down, gave me a quick once-over, and then gestured toward the hallway. "Go on in. Her office is at the end of the hall."

I thanked him and made my way down the hall, my boots clicking against the polished floor. When I reached her office, the door was already slightly ajar, and I knocked lightly before stepping inside.

Sheriff Forbes looked up from her desk, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Regis, good to see you. Come in, have a seat."

I nodded and sat down across from her, doing my best to seem calm and casual. The air in the room felt heavy, though, like she had something weighing on her mind.

"Thanks for coming in," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I wanted to give you an update on your case."

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. "Did you find anything?"

She sighed, "Despite our best efforts, we haven't been able to find any information on you. Nothing's come up in any of the usual channels—no records, no missing persons reports, nothing that would give us a clue about who you might be."

I frowned, making sure to appear disappointed. "Nothing at all?"

She shook her head, her expression genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Regis. I know this must be frustrating for you."

I shrugged, pretending like the news was harder to swallow than it actually was. "I guess I kind of expected it. Just wish I had some answers."

"We'll keep looking," she said, sitting up a bit straighter. "But in the meantime, I don't want you to feel like you're stuck in limbo. I've written a letter for you to take to the DMV so you can get a driver's license and an identity card. I've spoken to a few people, and they'll expedite the process. You should have everything you need by the ninth or tenth at the latest."

She slid a neatly folded letter across the desk toward me. I picked it up, glancing at it before tucking it into my jacket. "Thanks, Sheriff. I really appreciate it."

"I know it's been tough for you, not having much to do," she said, her tone softening. "But this should at least help you start applying for jobs and getting back on your feet."

I nodded. "Yeah, I've been getting restless. Mostly just wandering around town, walking in the woods, eating... not much else to keep busy with."

She smiled. "Well, there's always the Mystic Grill. If you're interested, they might be hiring. I can put in a good word for you if you need it. I'm sure they'd love to have someone like you around."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "That's not necessary. You've already done so much for me. Really, I don't want to be a burden."

"Regis, it's nothing," she insisted, waving off my protest. "You're a good guy, and it's my pleasure to help. Besides, the Grill could always use some extra hands, and I think you'd fit right in."

I gave her a small smile, feeling that familiar warmth of appreciation for her kindness, even though I didn't really need any of it. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

She stood up, signaling the end of our meeting, and I followed suit. We exchanged polite farewells before I made my way back out of her office, the weight of the letter in my jacket pocket feeling heavier than it should have.

The walk to the DMV wasn't long, but as I made my way there, my thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation. 'No records, no information.' Of course, I hadn't expected them to find anything, but hearing it confirmed out loud made everything feel more... real. 'A blank slate.' It was strange, in a way, knowing I could be whoever I wanted here, but also freeing.

When I arrived at the DMV, there were only a few people. I stepped in line, my thoughts still spinning as I waited my turn. A clean slate, a new identity—no one here knew anything about me, and that was just the way I liked it, the way I'd need it to be. 'I had complete control of my narrative now.'

Eventually, my number was called, and I approached the counter, handing over the letter from Sheriff Forbes. The clerk looked it over, nodded, and started typing something into her computer.

"Alright," she said after a moment. "We'll have your license and ID card ready by the ninth. Should be all set."

I nodded, thanking her before heading out the door. As I stepped outside, the sun was shining a little brighter, and the town felt a little smaller.

The morning sunlight bathed Mystic Falls in a soft glow as I stepped out of the DMV, wallet in hand. The crisp new ID card and driver's license were tucked inside, the plastic cool to the touch. I glanced at them as I walked down the street, admiring the official look of it all. For someone who technically didn't exist a week ago, I'd made a pretty smooth transition into this world.

I paused for a moment, my eyes catching the detail on the card: 'Date of Birth – September 2nd, 1988'. I smiled, amused at the coincidence. The day Hank found me unconscious in the woods had officially been marked as my birthday. Well, why not? It felt like a rebirth of sorts.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Sheriff Forbes' number. After a couple of rings, her familiar voice picked up on the other end.

"Sheriff Forbes speaking."

"Hey, Sheriff, it's Regis. Just wanted to call and say thanks again. I just got my ID and license, and everything looks perfect. I really appreciate you fast-tracking it for me."

"Of course, Regis," she replied, a hint of warmth in her voice. "I'm glad it all went through smoothly. You got everything you need now?"

"Yeah, and I couldn't help but notice my birthday is listed as September 2nd—the day Hank found me. It's kind of funny how that worked out."

She chuckled lightly. "Well, we had to pick something, and that seemed as good a date as any. Now you've got a fresh start and a birthday to celebrate every year."

"Can't complain about that," I said, still smiling at the odd but fitting coincidence. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day, about applying to the Mystic Grill. I think I'm going to give it a shot. I was wondering if you'd still be willing to recommend me?"

"Absolutely. If they ask for a recommendation, just have them give me a call. I'll let them know what a stand-up guy you are."

"Thanks, Sheriff. You've done a lot for me, and I won't forget it."

"Just doing my job, Regis. You take care, alright?"

"You too, Sheriff. Have a good day."

I hung up, sliding the phone into my pocket. With that out of the way, I turned my attention toward the Grill. The day was still young, and I figured now was as good a time as any to see about a job.

The Mystic Grill was just as busy as ever when I walked in. The familiar clatter of plates and silverware, combined with the low hum of conversation, filled the space. The place had a rustic charm to it, with its wooden beams and warm lighting, a small-town vibe that I was slowly getting used to.

I approached the bar, catching the attention of a waitress behind the counter. She looked up and smiled politely, recognizing me from a few days ago.

"Hey, you're Hank's friend, right? Regis, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, that's me," I said, returning the smile. "I'm actually here to see about a job. Heard you might be hiring?"

Her eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. "Oh, really? You looking for something as a waiter?"

"Yeah, I think that'd be a good start. Is the manager around?"

"No, Roberta's not, but the acting manager is, actually. Give me a second, and I'll grab him for you."

As she disappeared into the back, I leaned against the bar, looking around the place. A couple of the regulars sat at their usual tables, deep in conversation. There was a comfort in the familiarity of it all, even if I was still new to town. After a minute, the waitress returned with a tall man in tow—dark hair, mid-thirties, with the look of someone who'd spent more than a few long nights managing the place.

"You're the one asking about the job?" he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"That's right. I'm Regis. Sheriff Forbes mentioned there might be an opening here, and I thought I'd see if I could apply."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the mention of the Sheriff. "Liz Forbes, huh? That's a good reference. Let's step into my office, and we'll have a quick chat."

I followed him toward the back of the restaurant, where his small office was tucked away. The space was cramped but functional, with a desk littered with papers and receipts, and a bulletin board plastered with work schedules and notes. He motioned for me to sit down as he took a seat behind the desk.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself," he said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. "Why do you want to work here?"

I'd rehearsed this in my head on the walk over, so the words came easily enough. "I'm new in town, as you probably know. I don't have a lot of experience waiting tables, but I'm a quick learner, and I'm willing to work hard. I've already been to the Grill a few times, and it seems like a good place to work. Plus, I need something to keep me busy."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We're always looking for reliable people, but this job can be tough. Lots of running around, making sure customers are happy, dealing with complaints. You think you're up for it?"

"I'm confident I can handle it," I said, meeting his gaze. "I know how to stay calm under pressure, and I'm good with people. I'd like the chance to prove myself."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes scanning my face as if trying to gauge how serious I was. "You got any experience working in customer service? Any kind of previous job that's similar?"

I shook my head. "No formal experience, but I've done a lot of odd jobs here and there. And I'm a quick study—I won't need much training."

"Well, you're honest about it, at least," he said with a chuckle. "And if Liz Forbes is willing to vouch for you, that goes a long way. Tell you what, we'll give you a trial run. You work a few shifts, see how you handle the pace. If you can keep up, we'll talk about making it permanent."

I grinned, feeling a small surge of relief. "That sounds great. Thank you for the opportunity."

"Don't thank me just yet," he replied, smirking. "Let's see how you do on the floor first. We're busy most nights, and weekends are hell. You start tomorrow—3 p.m. sharp. Wear something comfortable and bring your A-game."

I nodded, standing up and extending my hand. "You won't regret it."

He shook my hand firmly. "I'll hold you to that, Regis."

With that, the interview was over, and I left the office feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. It wasn't a high-paying gig or anything fancy, but it was something. 'A start.'

As I walked out of the Grill, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement, I couldn't help but feel even more grounded in this new life. Tomorrow, I'd be working my first shift at the Mystic Grill, and who knew where things would go from there?

AN: Here is chap. 4. Now, I know that the chapter is shorter than normal, but I honestly couldn't think of anything else to add so close to the pilot ep.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this last set-up chapter. Can't wait to finally start the actual show.