Guess Who’s Back?

She-she really is much closer than Stan would have thought. He’d almost be flattered if he hadn’t stopped nursing a doomed crush her over two years previously. Not to mention the person that he actually wanted to impress was stuck on the other side of this gymnasium.

He looks around helplessly for Aggie, and finally catches sight of her, standing next to Thistle Downe. He mouths the word ‘Help’ silently to her. Thistle meanwhile looks like he’s five seconds from marching onto the dancefloor and folding Stan into an origami crane.

Carla doesn’t seem to have noticed this. Maybe she’s too tipsy to care. As she utters the line about Stan being allowed to touch her, he flushes beet red.

“Look Carla, I’m really flattered and everything but”-

“Shhhhh…” she says, taking one of her arms off his shoulder so she can clumsily press a finger against his lips.

“You look real cute when you’re flustered Stan Pines y’know? You’re a guy who isn’t afraid to show some emotion. Not like Thistle…”

She catches sight of him of the periphery of the dance-floor, still shooting daggers at both of them. She sticks out her tongue daintily in response.

Stan realises he’s moving in time to the music with her. He didn’t even mean to, he’s just so damn uncomfortable he’s afraid of sticking out right now.

Carla leans forward and nestles her head into the crook of his neck.

“It’s ok Stan. I know you always liked me. Everyone knew.”

Stans heart is racing, and not in a pleasant way. How the hell can he get out of this? He starts to back away from Carla but her arms are wrapped around him like a limpet on a rock and his attempts to exit the dancefloor only end up with him treading on the toes of another couple.

“Hey watch it buddy!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Stan barks as he moves back to where he was.

Carla looks at him with a concerned expression.

“What’s wrong Stan? Don’t you want to dance?”

Stan looks at her, mouth dry.

“I…”-

Stan’s prevarication is saved by the clamp of a hand on his shoulder.

“You.” Thistle growls.

“Me?” Stan asks meekly as he turns around to face Thistle.

And she’s stuck with Thistle, who’d been in the middle of insulting her when Carla appeared to sweep Stan away. She’s in no mood for any of the is.

“Unbe-fucking-lievable.” Thistle growls, “I oughta tears beg that twerps face-“

“What are you so ticked at him for?” Baggie snaps at him. He jumps, almost as if he forgot she was there. “Carla’s the one being drunk and stupid.” She folds her thin arms, her nails digging into her skin to counterbalance her rage. “If you’re gonna be a jerk at least be a jerk to the right person.”

“You shut your mouth, woods-girl.” Thistle snarls at her but she doesn’t even flinch. Stan isn’t the only one who’s grown a lot since they were kids. Aggie wasn’t afraid of Thistle either.

She’s almost afraid to look over at Stan and Carla, afraid of seeing Stan looking at the older girl with that same googoo eyed expression he’d worn at 12. But she has to look, and she’s glad she does because as she does their eyes meet straight away. She sees his mouth move, and he might as well have yelled the word from across the room. Help. She nods at him, and tries to head his way but Thistle steps directly in front of her.

“Where do you think you’re off to?” He asks, and she shoves him.

“I gotta go help my friend. Your girlfriend’s bugging him.” She says cooly, black eyes glaring up at him. For a moment his expression reads as pure rage but then it levels out into something else that Aggie can’t quite identify but it’s familiar. It isn’t until he touches her arm, grabs it really- does she recognize it. It’s how he usually looks at Carla.

“Look here, weirdo.” He growls, “My girl’s trying to make me jealous. And Pines ditched you. Maybe we can help each other out here.” He looks her over, “You’re not that bad looking, we could make this work.” Thr hand in her shoulder slips down her arm and tries to snake around her waist.

The way he’s looking at her, talking to her- touching her- it makes her stomach turn over. It’s like how Jesse tries to talk to her, but it’s even more disgusting somehow. Jesse was a creep, and she hates him- but at least he was her age and regretfully to his credit, he actually liked her. But whatever it is that Thistle is getting at, it’s gross.

She makes a disgusted face and without really thinking, she winds her hand back and slaps him as hard as she can. It makes such a nasty cracking noise that a fair number of people look their way. Thistle stumbles back from her, his hand going to the angry red mark on his cheek.

“You’re disgusting.” Aggie barks at him, “It ain’t my fault or Stan’s fault that Carla’s bored with how much you suck. Maybe try getting a better personality or being a better guy n’ she’ll actually wanna stick with you.” He stares at her, embarrassed and angry but she turns on her heel and runs off, ignoring him entirely. She can’t go using magic right now, not with her Ma running around somewhere, but she knows how she can get her friend out of this love triangle he clearly has no interest in being a part of.

It’s in the aftermath of a very public slap and verbal berating from a fifteen year old social outcast that brings Thistle over to his girlfriend and the young boy she’s trying to wrap around her finger.

When Thistle appears, Carla actually looks bored. She lets Stan go and she folds her arms, glaring at her boyfriend.

“God, Thistle! We’re just dancing! Why do you have to turn every little thing into a fight?” She pouts. He glares at her.

“I’ll deal with you later.” Her says cooly. She rolls her eyes but then squints at him.

“What happened to your cheek? It’s all red.”

The rest of him turns red too.

“None of your business- This ain’t about- Now you listen here-!” He wrenches his attention back to Stan. “You had your hands on my girl, and for that, I’m gonna rearrange your face. I’ll hit ya double since your little freak girlfriend thought she could get a swipe in at me too.

“Oh my God, Aggie hit you?” Carla says, “Jeez, Thistle. Playing with fire, much?”

“Can it!” Thistle barks at her before turning back to Stan. He looks absolutely livid. He grabs Dtan by the front and and pulls his fist back. But that’s when the fire alarm goes off. A few seconds later, the sprinklers turn on, sending a deluge of water down to the partygoers below. There’s frightened shrieks and yelps as people try to figure out what’s going on. In the confusion, Thistle let go of Stan.

“Got rumour of this pre war settlement that seemed pretty untouched. This settlement to be exact. Scavvers and raiders hadn’t been able to gain access to the buildings. Apparently the guy who ran the Boardwalk pre war was a real security nut and had all the building locks centrally locked to an electro-magnetic system. Bombs fell, a deadbolt system is triggered but there’s no power to unlock everything again! Idiotic if you ask me.”

He pauses to exhale away from Aggie, suddenly realising that it would be bad form to do his usual power play of blowing smoke clouds into a business partners face.

“Anyway I turn up and there’s Soos. Goin’ about like the bombs haven’t fallen. Think he was trying to repair a phone booth.”

He shakes his head dismissively.

“I ask him what he’s doin’ and he just straight up says “Just doing my job Mr Pines.” I didn’t even tell him my name. Spooky right? Then he says he was holding on to something for me. Gives me a keycard to the electricity substation. Few days of trying to reset the breakers and here we are! That musta been ooooh…twenty years ago?”

Soos had been bodyguard, confidante and all round dogsbody ever since. Things had really kicked into high gear when they had come across a shipment of unused Securitrons that were due to be shipped to Atlantic City to act as casino security before the bombs fell. After cloning the original Soos’ operating system over to them it had been plain sailing ever since. The original model he had encountered rarely left Stan’s side. Until a few weeks ago.

“Honestly I’m glad you both got back here in one piece. From what people tell me, the wasteland hasn’t got any less dangerous from when I was last hoofing about out there.”

He looks around the room for an ashtray and realises with irritation there isn’t one there. He stubs out the butt on his metal fingers.

She listens intently through the whole thing. She recalls a time where the Boardwalk had indeed just been ruins. And, she remembers when whispers of it being up and running sgain started to circulate. She was already living in Junktown by then, but she can’t help but wonder about how if she and McGucket hadn’t started it up, they likely would have ended up on the Boardwalk themselves. And maybe things would be very different now.

“Damn, Stan.” She laughs, blowing a trail of smoke up and away from them both. “You’ve gotta be one of the luckiest guys in the wasteland. O heard this place was crawling with mirelurks and ghouls, and you just waltzed in and got handed the keys?” It’s a nearly unbelievable tale but knowing it was Stanley who came upon this fortune, it doesn’t seem so far fetched, somehow. She continues to listen intently, taking lazy drags from her cigarette and blowing thr smoke away from her old friend, as he was doing to her.

“Oh, it’s still plenty dangerous. But I’m also pretty dangerous, so I do alright. But the arm canons definitely came in handy.” She laughs. When he puts his cigarette out in his Finn ers she instinctively jumps to stop him, as if she forgot that the dark gray on his hand was metal and not flesh. “Sheesh! Fun party trick.” She mutters, a little embarassed by the fact she just about crawled in his lap to stop him from ‘burning’ himself.

She composed herself quickly enough though, so she’s able to catch the rest.

“Oh, I don’t take anything personal. He wasn’t even mean, he just seemed bored.” She chuckles, “I’m gonna guess he’s Pre-War? We’ve got quite a few ghouls living in Junktown but none of them go that far back.” She thinks briefly about the Old Worlders, the gang that had boasted about killing the man in front of her. Seems they’d been dead wrong about that. And now, they’re just dead, thanks to her. She pushes the thought aside.

“Breakfast sounds like a good plan, then we can drive down the strip a bit? I mean I would say we could check out the competition but I’m aware we’re tryin’ to get away from the day job here. Maybe we could drive out to Lake Mead? I uh…I may have put a down payment out on a cabin cruiser that’s moored there.”

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Her big eyes almost get a sparkly quality from excitement.

“You did? That’s amazing, Stan!” She holds his hand, lacing their fingers together. “As if I could ever forget the Stan O’ War… That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you!” She lists their joined hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d love to see it. Kind of a full circle moment, huh?” She gives his hand a squeeze before addressing her son.

“Does that sound good to you, little man?”

“Yeah!” He responds enthusiastically.

The Yearlings make quick work of getting ready for the day and it isn’t long before they’re heading down to the lobby to head for Stan’s car to embark on the days adventure.

The room is still littered with the tell-tale signs that something had gone down. The broken table. A bottle of champagne lying on the floor. Stan wonders if Jesses gold cap is amongst the debris somewhere. That’ll be a surprise for the cleaners.

“So I gotta ask you something Aggie…” Stan said after surveying the room. “You called me your boyfriend.”

He turns to looks at her.

“Not heard that before.” A smirk plays on his lips.

“Does that mean I get to call you my girlfriend?” he asks, sounding playful but inwardly trying not to let his emotions spill out.

He knew that what they had was special. The past few months had proven that. But to hear that out loud, for all the world to hear was another thing. It meant something to Stan, whose life and relationships up until very recently had been one of instability and impernance. To be called boyfriend by Aggie? It made him think of the future for the first time in his life, from a man whose existence had been entirely the here and now for so long.

“I mean if that’s the case”- He leans in and kisses her on the lips gently.

She’s relieved no one is around. She doesn’t feel like talking to anyone else. No questions, and no fawning over her and her partner- That’s exactly how she wants it to be right now.

“Mm? Yeah, Stan?” She says, looking up at him as they stop walking. The sleepy look in her slightly bruised looking eyes vanishes when he goes on. Her face flushes, masking any sign of bruising.she almost looks embarassed but his smile puts her at ease immediately and any lingering anxiety quickly melts away.

She smiles a little shyly. “Maybe I did…”. She says sheepishly, and in response to the question she squeezes his hand and smiles even more. As he leans in, her hands come up to cradle his face. “I’d say that’s the case, Stanley...” She kisses him, a smile playing at her lips. She goes so far as to wind her arms around his broad shoulders.

She giggles sweetly when they part, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck as she hugs him again.

“Happy New Year, baby.” The rarely used ultra sweet petname slips out. “Hopefully you won’t ever have to fight him again.. But if you do, I’ll never let ya do it alone.” She gives him another kiss and takes his had once more, leading him out of the main room towards the elevator bay.

When he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the past, it was like he was walking through a dense white fog. And as he walked through this sea of fog, he could vaguely make out things. Shapes. Colours. Sounds. If he really squinted his eyes and tried to concentrate with all his might, they may have even started to coalesce into something more substantial. Words and phrases that somehow made sense, though he wasn’t sure of the context.

He knew that the pig that followed the brown haired girl around (Mabel?) was called Waddles. But he wasn’t sure how he knew that. He could recall the recent plotlines of a TV show called Ducktective. But he doesn’t recall watching it. He just can’t get the fog to clear.

So it was with some trepidation that the older man who looked an awful lot like himself (Ford?) had taken him to this woman. There was a glimmer of recognition when he saw her. Though he doesn’t know where from. It may have been from a tv advertisement as far as he knew.

Her face was one of concern and barely concealed sadness, but he could tell she was a kind woman, whoever she was. She was pretty too, he realised. He hoped that this Ford guy wasn’t involved with her.

As she introduces herself to him and shows him the first few pages scrapbook on her lap, there are vague stirrings within his untroubled mind. The sound of the ocean for some reason. The tang of salt on the air and the shriek of gulls. He’s not sure why. He doesn’t recognise himself in the old photos. Then again, he doesn’t seem to recall what he looked like as a child. It doesn’t seem to concern him greatly, but knowing he spent it with this lady was pleasing.

As the lady (Aggie? He wondered if it was a nickname for Agatha) shows him the pictures of the young girl she says was her granddaughter something more substantial comes to mind.

“I remember her. She was there a few days ago…when I was in the woods. She was there with Ford and those other two kids.”

He nods enthusiastically.

“Yep, I know her. Poor kid looked like she had seen a ghost. Those other two kids were pretty sad too. Do I just have that affect on children?” he asks, half joking.

As he gets to the page with the rendering of the beach, he pauses.

“Did you draw all of these?” he asks, meeting her eyes. “You’re quite the artist Aggie.”

Again the roar of the ocean hits his ears, a phantom sound echoing across time.

“I feel I’ve been there before.”

He runs a hand gently across the drawing, as though he could somehow enter it by doing so.

“I had my first kiss on a beach you know.”

He’s not looking at her now, he’s looking straight ahead.

“I don’t remember her face. I know she was pretty. She cried. I cried. She told me that she might never see me again. So we kissed. I don’t think I saw her again.”

As Aggie talks about how important he is to her it saddens him to realise that he can’t remember why he would be important to her. She seemed like such a nice lady it was a shame to make her upset like this. He briefly flirts with the idea of lying just to make her feel better, but exerting that amount of mental energy to keep up a lie that big seems exhausting to him at the moment.

“I wish we weren’t strangers Aggie…you seem familiar, as well as looking familiar an’ all.”

He places his hand over one of hers.

“You typically have the opposite effect on kids, as far as I can tell.” She says gently. “They love you. I know you don’t.. Remember but it’s true.”

She watches him, and when he pauses on the drawing of the beach, their beach, she swallows thickly, fighting to keep her voice even.

“I did.” I only wanted to learn to draw in the first place because of you. But she doesn’t say that. “Thank you.. It’s one of the few things I’m all that good at.” Self deprecation came easy when she was this sad.

She stops breathing. The memory of kissing her, it was unprompted. She hasn’t said a thing about it, but it was there, it really was there, in his head… Even if she wasn’t. It’s a good thing he isn’t looking at her because she is losing the battle with trying not to completely break down in tears. “She was pretty, huh?” Is all she can manage to say, her voice as small and timid as it has been back on that beach over 45 years ago.

When he touches her, she can’t stop herself from sobbing, though she does manages to disguise it as a cough, somewhat. She forces herself to look at him, and she does manage something of a smile.

“I don’t know if I was.. But you certainly were.” She puts her free hand over his. “You were the best thing I had back then.” She sniffs, thinking for a moment before she says,

“No…no. I wasn’t there when…things happened. I got exiled the year previous. Had just turned 18.”

The year everything had started to go wrong. Ford assigned to work in the Science Wing. Stan put under what was essentially house arrest, stuck working in the general store. And hardly any chances to see Aggie. They had snuck out after dark on a number of occasions and they came close to being discovered more times than Stan would like to have admitted.

“I-uh-I did something stupid.”

That was putting it mildly.

He had found out what David Yearling was planning for Aggie and his brother. Ford had come to him, in tears, wracked with guilt. Trapped between his duty to the vault and loyalty to his brother. He made him promise, begged him not to do anything rash, to not tell anyone.

Of course not, Stan had lied. He hugged his brother tight for what turned out to be the last time.

It’s funny what the human body can do with surges of adrenaline. Stan remembered reading how a mother could somehow lift a car off their child pinned underneath. Hysterical strength is what he remembered it was called. He imagined that’s what happened when he stormed into the overseers office. It was late at night, nearly 11pm. He vaguely remembered David Yearling looking up at him irritably from his horseshoe shaped desk. Then all he can recall after that is brief snatches, like hurriedly taken snapshots. Pinning him against the wall by the neck, and raising him to his eye level. Punching him repeatedly in the face, not caring if he should stop. Not caring if he would kill him. There was so much blood. He remembers the floor was slick with it.

The security team bursting in and piling on top of him. Then it all going black. Stan remembers them saying in his excuse for a trial that it took four men to take him down. He couldn’t help but be slightly proud about that, even after all these years.

“I was going to be put to death. Executed. Your mom stepped in. She saved my life.”

At the cost of never seeing her again. Stan often wondered about it in the years before he was reunited with her, when he was lying in bed late at night. He wondered whether it would have been better to have just been executed. Dying wouldn’t have topped his list of enjoyable activities, but at least it meant he didn’t have to exist in a world without her. The only thing that made life worth living. The one person now that Ford had grown more and more distant who seemed to understand what he was going through.

“But I still had to be made an example of. So they booted me out. Haven’t seen your mom since…I thought she died along with all the others.”

He doesn’t remember exactly where he was when he heard about it. Some podunk two brahmin settlement with a tin shack just big enough to contain a bar. And some loudmouth trader talking about how he used to have a good deal with a vault down south. But when he went by to check on them his geiger counter started going crazy about 500 yards from the entrance. That’s when he checked his pipboy. Listened to the distress signal. All of it. He cursed himself for not noticing it before.

And he had turned tail and ran. Ran all the way back to the only home he had ever known. The home that had abandoned him.

It took several days to try and explore the remains of the vault. Took several hundred caps worth of RadX and a second hand decontamination suit but he did it. And aside from charred walls, radioactive debris, and a half burnt sign for the general store, he had found nothing.

“Sounds like her.. Ma makes a habit of sticking her neck out for people.” He says quietly, letting Stan go on. They’d been friends that much was clear, his mom had explained that much. But she left out the death sentence. And her opposing it… But he can’t help but feel that there’s more to the story.

But, for the moment he bites back the urge to ask what he did.

“She nearly did, I guess.” He says with a little shrug. “I’m sure it was awful- She never really talks about it but when I was a kid she used to wake up yelling about fire and radiation. I have no idea how she made it out of there.” He has some idea. He has a vague understanding of the things his mother can do… He wonders if Stan does. He shakes his head. “I’ve never been to a vault but I’ve heard about them. They’re big, and wired to completely obliterate themselves if something goes wrong..” Bobby had gone there once with his mother when he was younger. It was still irradiated as all hell, but he and his mom didn’t seem to get sick when exposed to it like most. He can’t exactly recall why they were there… But his mom had been digging. He wasn’t sure if she was burying something or digging it up, he just heard the sound of scraping earth and the clicking of her pip-boys geiger counter.

He skips another stone across the water. Suddenly, Aggie’s voice echoes in his mind, almost in time with the rock skipping across the water. He gets to his feet.

“Help.”

He gets up on his tip toes and cranes his neck to look above the crowds of picnickers, families and barbecuers. She’s over by one by one of the snack tables. With a boy. He looks to be near Stan’s age, his face still has the pudginess of early adolescence. But he’s huge. If you had told Stan he was a linebacker on a football team he wouldn’t be surprised. He notes that his hand is clamped on Aggie’s shoulder.

He gulps and tries to steel himself. He can already tell this is probably not going to end well. But if there was one thing Stan prided himself on, it was sticking up for the people in his life he cared about. And Aggie was definitely one of those people. He marches off towards them.

“…Think about it Aggie. I’m not going to let go until you agree to go on a date with me. And I always get what I want.” His voice is half honeyed charm, half unmistakable threat.

Jesse’s dirty fingernails dig in to Aggie’s shoulder.

“Uh…Jesse?” One of his friends tries to interject. “Maybe we should just let it go, we’re nearly at the front of the queue an’…”-

“Can it Zeke!” he spits back at him. “This’ll only take a second.”

He smiles at Aggie.

“So, what do you say? Just you and me.”

Before Aggie or Jesse can say anything further, Stan emerges from the crowd and sandwiches himself between Jesse and Aggie. The larger boy is taken off guard for a second, and relaxes his grip on Aggie’s shoulder enough so that she can take the opportunity to get free.

Jesse doesn’t even look angry at first. More bewildered that this…kid has gotten in his way.

“Hey small-fry.” Jesse said in the most patronising tone he could muster. “Me and the lady here were having a little conversation until you got in the way, so might I suggest you take a hike?”

“Aggie ain’t interested in you…” Stan said, voice small at first.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jesse asks, cupping a hand to one ear, a mocking grin spreading over his face.

“My friend isn’t interested in you. So why don’t you leave her alone?” His voice is louder now.

The grin fades.

“Really?”

Jesse steps forward and grabs Stan by the collar of his shirt and drags him up to his height.

“Cos I don’t think she has a problem with me.”

He looks down at Aggie.

“My Ma says I’m too young to go on dates.” She says in a small, slightly shakey voice. It’s a lie, he Ma said no such thing but only because it had never come up- but she’s sure it’s true. “Please, just let me go.” She looks at his friends desperately, but when one of them pipes up, he’s silenced by the large boy with a vice like grip on her shoulder.

But then mercifully, Stanley appears. Relief washes out most of her fear and she finds she’s able to move again, and she’s able to twist free from Jesse’s grip. She hides behind Stanley, ehich doesn’t do too much because they’re about the same height but it makes her feel a lot better. She scowls at the rude boy over Stan’s shoulder.

When Stan gets grabbed it takes all her willpower to stop herself from immediately hitting the boy with some sort of spell. But that would be stupid in such a public place. And if she hit him with some while he was holding onto Stan, he could get hurt too. Can’t risk that.

“Let him go!” She shouts, her little hands balling into fists. “If you hurt my friend I’m gonna have a BIG problem with you.”

“Oh, will you now?” Her sneers, “I see how it is…” He laughs mockingly and goes on, “You think having a little boyfriend changes anything?” Aggies face flushes scarlet and her hands are aching to cast a vicious spell on this boy.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” She says through gritted teeth. “But he is my friend so you better let him go NOW.”

“So what are you trying to say to me Aggie? That I’ve got the wrong idea of you trapped in my head?”

He takes a seat at her desk, swivelling around in the chair to face her.

“I’m not in love with a ghost Aggie, or a memory or whatever you may think. I’m in love with the woman in front of me. And I know that the woman in front of me ain’t supposed to be alone. You mighta been in the past. I dunno. You have your past, so do I Guess what though Aggie, I was alone too. It sucks. I wouldn’t wish a life of loneliness in this wasteland on my worst enemy.”

He leans forward in the chair, it makes a tired squeaking noise.

“You’re a good person Aggie. I know you are. And you may have done some bad things. Stop the presses, so have I. If we want to just sit here and list all the crummy things we’ve done to survive in this wasteland we’ll be here til next month. But what matters is what we try and do. You’re responsible for this!”

He raises his arms as if to gesture to Junktown all around them.

But she doesn’t mention any of this.

“There’s a difference between doing horrible things to survive and doing those things.. Out of fear. Or guilt. Or hatred.” She says softly, staring at the floor. “I wish I could say I built this life on the grounds of being good. But I’m just trying to bring back what I couldn’t save.” And she feels that she has, to the best of her ability, succeeded. But one thing she couldn’t save was herself. Her walls were high, but beyond them she feels like the same shattered little girl covered in blood, none of which is her own.

“I’m broken, Stanley.” Her voice cracks, “I.. I don’t.. I don’t let people get that close to me.” He had, though. Stanley had gotten that close. Stolen private moments in dark corners of the vaults spring to mind. Kissing, holding hands, experimental touching… But that was before. Before 61, and the slavers, before a raider boss dragged her to his shack. Before the scar around her neck. Before Bobby. No one had touched her since, and anyone who tried ended up dead. The faces of the poor unfortunate few she had gunned down simply for the crime of approaching her swim to the forefront of her mind and she shuts her eyes right and shakes her head as if to free herself from their haunted stares. If that happened to Stan? If she hurt him, really hurt him? She’d never forgive herself. She isn’t certain she’d be able to live with herself.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"How would I know if anything you tell me about myself is the truth?"

"I have no idea how I should feel about you."

"You look familiar. I just can't quite remember how I know you."

"I don't know who you are, I mean, I don't even know who I am, but I do know that I can trust you."

"When you called me by my name... I felt nothing."

"I know you're mad at me for things I've done, but I have no memories of them, so please tell me how to fix this."

"If I never get my memories back... I would need to start all over. My whole life."

"I've seen pictures of myself with people I don't know and in places I don't remember."

"Tell me lies and I will believe you."

"Maybe it will all come back. One trigger word or a smell and I know everything again. I'm not sure I would even want that anymore."

"I'm tired of not knowing myself."

"I always thought not knowing you be better. Ignorance is bliss. But it's much worse."

"Do you know how much it hurts to hear someone say they love you and they're strangers to you?"

"I'm not sure I like the person people tell that I was."

How to write amnesia + Amnesia Prompts

He takes a second. Deep breath. Perhaps this was a bad week to try and give up smoking for the fortieth time as well. He was even more on edge than usual. Trying to settle into the routine of ‘tourist trap proprietor’ wasn’t going as smoothly as he hoped. He didn’t have much in the way of actual exhibits yet, just whatever bizarre specimens and failed experiments his brother had left behind. Despite Stan’s enthusiastic efforts to gee up the small crowds of tourists who trickled in, there was only so much you could do with a couple of rooms filled with oscilloscopes, van der graaf generators and what purported to be a stuffed gnome. It was stressful, and it definitely didn’t help that he was still getting used to being called his brothers name. He had slipped up a couple of times in the past week alone. At this rate it would be easier to just insist on being called Stan in future, at least that way there’d be no room for confusion.

“I don’t want us to argue either Aggie.” Stan said, walking over to stand behind her. “I just barely see you anymore…I…miss you. I miss just talking with you. Being with you. I’m grateful for everything you’re doing to help me. But maybe we should, I don’t know? Take a break?”

The words make him feel guilty the moment he says them. Especially after what he had done to Ford. But he had to face facts. Neither of them would be any use to rescuing Ford if they continued on the way they had been going.

She hears him take a deep breath and decides she should probably do the same. As frustrated and tired as she is, she really doesn’t want to fight with him. It feels wrong somehow. She wipes her eyes again, aware of his presence behind her.

As he talks she realizes just how much she misses him too. Working in that basement wasn’t so bad with him down there with her, but the current arrangement with her alone down there isn’t working. She didn’t even realize how much of a workaholic she could be until all this. Thank God he’d said something, or else she’d be back down there already.

“I miss you too..” She says softly, wiping her eyes once again. “A break..” See echos softly. A break sounds great. Sleeping in on weekends, helping him with the Shack… Helping Bobby with homework now that he’s enrolled in school.

As he continues she finally turns to face him. Without even really thinking about it, she reaches out and takes his hand.

“I don’t want to lose you either...” She can’t lose him. Not again. She’d barely made it last time. “I’m Sorry.. I just.. I want to get it done. I want you to get your life back.” She reaches up with her free hand, cupping his cheek. “Cuz’ then we can get on with our life, ya know? Maybe catch some of those dreams of ours?” She brushes the apple of his cheek with her thumb. “I can’t help myself, trying to fix everything…But you’re right. I’m on my way to doing something stupid, I think… I was so tired last time I came up here I put salt in my coffee.” She makes a face. “And I still drank it.” She sighs, relieved that her tears have stopped, and her heart has stopped racing.

She goes on tiptoe and kisses him.