Author's Note: All right! New chapter! Sorry for the late update (I do try to do it every other week), but my life has been crazy this past month. I'm surprised that I've even had time to update this story. Hopefully I'll get to the other stories soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, as events are starting to unfold. Please Read & Review! I love to read 'em and it keeps me sane! Oh, and I'm also looking for a Beta Reader, so if you're interested, feel free to message me! Peace. Out. - Phantom452
The chopping sound of her knife was a lulling melody for Sarah. She was preparing a simple spaghetti dish for her new roommate when her mind drifted to his predicament. A sigh escaped her lips. What was it like to remember nothing about yourself? She wondered if it was a blessing or a curse; she sometimes wished she could forget the accident that took James and Aiden from her.
Another sigh escaped her lips as she mindlessly chopped the onion before her. Memories of her family seemed to come back full force since the young man's arrival. It didn't help that he was instantly curious about the pictures on her stairway hall. Of course, she didn't blame the boy – he didn't know any better, but that still didn't mean the conversation was a pleasant one. She finished chopping away and placed the onions into the simmering pot of pasta sauce.
Sarah robotically stirred the sauce as she continued her ponderings. Why did she really take the boy in? Was it to replace what she had lost? She really didn't know. But what she did know was this: the boy was alone. Would it really be so bad if she took him in for good? She felt her heart warm at the thought of taking the boy as her own. After all, she was alone too. Maybe this was God's way of repaying her for what He took from her. On that final thought, Sarah found herself feeling happier than she had in a while.
He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His brow was furrowed with confusion and frustration. He couldn't recognize his own face. Nothing seemed to come into his mind. He wanted to scream out from frustration! How could someone remember absolutely nothing! Gah! He let out a deep breath. What had happened to him?
His staring soon became an analysis of himself. His black hair was starting to grow back from when the nurses had to shave his head to look at his head wound. His eyes seemed to reflect a sea green color in the light, but he noticed that they were actually much darker when he angled himself out of the fluorescent light. He leaned into the mirror, inspecting his face a bit more; the small, healing cuts were lightly visible around his cheeks and chin. He was lightly tanned, as he noticed his natural skin color was already pretty dark for a Caucasian. He wondered if he spent a lot of time outdoors. Maybe he was an athlete. It would explain his well-toned body. Maybe he was a rancher. It seemed like an occupation that would allow him to be outdoors and have the unfortunate hazard of getting hit in the head by a horse or a cow. Something in his gut told him that neither hypothesis were right.
His hand drifted toward the light bump on the right side of his head. It didn't hurt as it did when he had woken up from his coma, but he could still feel a minor throb now and then. The doctor said it wasn't too bad, but they still had to shave his head to get a closer look at it. He frowned. He actually wished they hadn't; he wanted to know what type of hair style he had – silly thought as it is. He sighed. "Who am I?" He muttered to himself as he gazed at himself through the mirror. Some thoughts occurred to him. Taking off the blue t-shirt that he had received from Sherriff Kent, the young man began to analyze his injuries.
The bruising around his stomach and back were now yellowish and a bit itchy now, so that was a good sign of healing. His ribs, however, were still causing him pain. It would take at least six weeks until they would heal properly, he was told. His fingers soon drifted to his left shoulder, near his collarbone. He still had white gauze over his gunshot wound. This wound caused endless thoughts to pop into his head. What had he been doing that caused him to get shot at? Who was his attacker? Did he wound them too? He stared at his left fractured wrist. Maybe he got that from punching the guy? His knuckles were bruised too. He had to have fought back. He didn't seem like the guy to just take a punch and not fight back – or at least that's what he felt like.
He sighed. All this mindless thinking was just getting him frustrated more. He placed his shirt back on and was grateful that the Sheriff gave him some clothes to wear besides those funky hospital garbs. He really disliked anything associated with the hospital – well, minus Sarah. He liked her a lot; even if she almost ran him over. She provided a peaceful feeling that made him feel like someone cared about him. He wondered if this was what they called family love. True, he just really met this woman about four weeks ago, but he couldn't help but feel a familial connection with her. He wondered if Sheriff Kent didn't find his real family, that maybe he could stay with Sarah for good. He stared at his clothes a bit more when something occurred to him. Before his mind delved too much into figuring out his question, he heard Sarah announce that dinner was ready.
Once again, the young man found himself on the staircase as he moved to join Sarah downstairs. His eyes gazed over at the pictures he had looked over earlier. Sarah had endured a lot of pain, he thought, as he continued downward. Maybe that's why she agreed to take him in for now: she didn't want to be alone and neither did he. He smiled. He now got a better understanding of the words she had spoken to him earlier.
The aroma of food reached his nostrils as soon as he reached the final steps of the stairs. He felt his stomach rumble, demanding to be fed. This certainly smelled better than hospital food. The young man reached the dining room, where Sarah had prepared a simple, but delicious meal for them.
"Ah, there you are! Sit down and we can eat!" She pointed to a chair that was across from her designated spot. Her guest immediately did so.
"It smells really good, Sarah. Thank you." He settled himself in the four seat table and waited patiently for his host.
"Oh, well thanks. I hope it tastes as good as it smells." She chuckled nervously; it had been awhile since she fed another person in her house. She soon joined him for dinner.
The two ate in silence for a few minutes before Sarah noticed that something was on the boy's mind; his eyes had a faraway look on them.
"So, how do you like your room?" Sarah asked, trying to get a conversation going.
The boy blinked his thoughts away and focused his green eyes onto Sarah's. "It's nice." He replied as he carefully placed some spaghetti into his mouth.
"What's on your mind?" Sarah asked, figuring that it was better than beating around the bush.
Her guest finished chewing. He debated for a moment to ask her, but the connection and trust he felt with Sarah won out. "I was just wondering…" He trailed out, "…what was I wearing when you found me?" His expressionless gaze held her puzzled one.
"Oh? What were you wearing?" That seemed like an odd question. "Um," her lips turned into a mixture of a pout and a frown, her expression for uncertain thinking, "you were wearing this black uniform…" her face scrunched up in confusion. Now that she thought about it. He was wearing a uniform that resembled uniforms that you would see military personnel wear.
"A black uniform?" The boy asked as new questions flooded his mind. Sarah nodded.
"Like a military uniform that they use for combat; I've seen them on T.V. or in the movies." She shrugged, but was still unsettled by the prospect. Wouldn't that mean that the person in front of her was military?
The boy was on the same line of thought as Sarah as his next questioned evidenced. "Did I have any dog tags?" He asked her.
"I don't remember. It was dark and I was more concerned about the blood that was all over you." She replied, trying to figure out why Kyle was having a hard time finding the boy's identity if he was military. He had taken his prints. Shouldn't the government have him on record? It didn't make any sense to her.
"Do you think the hospital kept my clothes?" The young man asked, hoping that the dog tags were there. He had to be marine or something. That would explain his wounds.
Realization struck Sarah. "Yeah, they usually keep it for the police. We can get your dog tags and then find out who you are!" She exclaimed with excitement. She quickly got up, her food now forgotten, as she rushed to her phone.
The young man watched with equal excitement and anticipation as she dialed the hospital.
"Ruth?" Sarah questioned when she heard a nurse answer the phone. "Hey, it's Sarah. Oh, yeah, I'm doing well. Mmhmm, he's doing fine too." Sarah replied, trying to act polite, but the boy could tell she was a bit annoyed. "Yeah, Ruth, hey, listen, I got a question." She paused as Ruth asked a question of her own. "Oh, yeah, that would be great if the Sheriff drops off my car, but no, that wasn't the question. No, Ruth, hey! Can you listen for a sec?"' Sarah rushed out, annoyance evident in her voice. A pause on the other line was heard. "Thank you, hey, look, I was wondering if you still had John Doe's clothes?" The young man listened in on the conversation, but could just hear garbling noises. "Really? That's weird. It's not like the hospital to misplace the clothes like that. Are you sure?" Another pause from Sarah. "Oh, okay. Mmhmm. Thanks for checking Ruth." Sarah soon hung up the phone, a perplex look on her face.
"What happened?" The young man asked.
"Ruth said that they had placed your clothes in our catalog room for the police to take, but when she went to look, they were gone. She says that Sheriff Kent never signed it out, so it was either misplaced or thrown out." She explained. "This is really weird, because we usually don't just misplace things like that or throw out possible evidence." Her eyebrows scrunched themselves together in bewilderment.
The young man was quiet for a moment as he thought about the implications of his missing clothes.
"Well, I suppose it can't be helped right now. We'll go and talk to Kyle tomorrow after my shift, okay?" Sarah assured the silent thinker. "Oh, and some new clothes too." She added. The talk of missing clothes made her realize that he really didn't have any.
"Thank you, Sarah. I'll find a way to repay you." The boy thanked her as his eyes darted up from his half-finished plate.
"Don't worry about; it's coming out of Kyle's pocket – he agreed to pay for some of your things to help settle you in. Oh, which reminds me," she placed her fork down and looked at the boy expectantly. "Since we've estimated that you're about 17 or 18 years old, Kyle thinks its best that you go to high school. It's starting next week and I think it would be good for you to get out and make some friends."
The boy stared at Sarah with a wide eyed shocked expression. "High School?" He knew that high school was a place for learning and socializing with teenagers. From all he understood and knew; which wasn't much, and how he knew - he really had no clue, high school sounded like a prison where primitive emotions dominated the student body. He absently wondered where he got that information, but neglected a full on thinking out of his own weariness of attending.
"Yup, the Riverwood High School, home to the Broncos!" Sarah smiled from eagerness for him to try it out. It would be good for him to associate with other people; it might even help him remember who he was too. "It'll be fun!" She added, noting some hesitation.
"Fun?" He repeated with hesitancy.
Sarah didn't seem to hear as she began talking about her memories of high school, trying to reassure him that all would be well.
"You can try out for a sport team too. I was on our softball team! We had a blast whenever we had away games! We use to play pranks on the opposing team too." She continued to explain when she noticed her dinner mate's lack of enthusiasm. "Do you not want to go?"
"I don't know. This is really all new to me." He replied honestly. Sarah nodded in understanding and sympathy.
"It'll be okay, I promise." She assured him, which caused him to smile. "Oh, that reminds me. We need to figure out what you want to call yourself if we're going to register you for school."
The prospect of a name caused the boy to frown once more. What was he going to call himself?
Seeing his dilemma, Sarah quickly jumped up from her seat. "I have an idea! Stay right there!" She exclaimed and ran off to her room.
On the highest floor of a magnificent skyscraper, stood a tall, lean man, who was gazing out his office window. His jaw was clenched as he stared outward into the busy city of Minneapolis, Montana. This has not been a good month. Suddenly, his receptionist's voice buzzed through his intercom.
"Mr. Monroe, your two o'clock appointment is here." The receptionist informed her boss.
Mr. Monroe turned from his position and toward his desk. He pressed the intercom. "Send him in Jenny." He informed her, hiding the anger in his voice.
A few moments later, a man in a sports jacket and slacks enter the room. Mr. Monroe proceeded to sit in his chair, but made no inclinations for his visitor to take a sit himself.
"You have any news for me, Benjamin?" Mr. Monroe asked as he began to write something down on a piece of paper before him.
"Nothing new, Joseph, but you will be pleased to know that Gabriel is doing better." Benjamin replied, feeling a bit uneasy. His brother was notorious for his anger.
"Has he awakened from his coma?" Joseph Monroe asked, trying his best not to let his anger dictate the conversation.
"No, but his vitals have finally been stabilized. Doctor Lee is expecting him to awaken in the next few days."
"That is good news. I'm glad our dear Gabriel is all right. How are the others?" Joseph asked.
"Raphael is already back on duty; he's in Europe at the moment. Cassiel is finally out of physical therapy; he'll be active by the end of the week." The brown tousled haired man reported to his superior.
"And what about, Michael?" Benjamin could easily see his brother clenching his pen out of anger. This was the answer he was anticipating, and he could tell that his brother already knew the answer.
"Um, we still haven't located him." Benjamin replied and then immediately yelped in surprise when Joseph's pen whizzed by his head, nearly missing it by a centimeter.
"WHY HAS HE NOT BEEN FOUND?" Joseph yelled, his eyes burning with anger and hatred.
"We're working on it, Joseph. Our teams have managed to eliminate any evidence from that night, but we can't seem to locate Michael anywhere. We've sent out two Angels already to investigate the nearby towns."
"He must be found. Do you understand me, Benjamin?" Joseph gritted his teeth, trying to contain his anger against Michael and the trouble he had caused.
"I understand, Brother. I'm working on it; leave it to me."
"The survival of the Order depends on this. If you fail me," Joseph's cold blue eyes stared into his brother's causing the man to inwardly shiver, "Brother or not, I will kill you."
Benjamin nodded furiously. "I won't fail. I'll find him and bring him home." He assured.
"Good. May Peace find you, Brother." Joseph uttered the parting words of the The Order.
"May Peace fine you, Brother." Benjamin repeated, bowed, and exited the office quickly. He let out a relieved sigh. He was extremely grateful that Joseph didn't overact as he anticipated he would. Now, he had to just find Michael, or else everything that Joseph, Father, and Mother had worked for would dissipate.
"What about Augustus?" Sarah suggested as she read out the name from a baby name book she had kept.
"That sounds weird." The man replied as he sat on a chair in the living room, while Sarah was stretched out on the couch with the book propped up.
Sarah chuckled. "Yeah, that does sound a bit…medieval." She closed the book again and opened it to a random page and pointed to a random name, a process they had been repeating for about an hour now. "How about…Liam? That sounds good." She glanced over at the boy in the chair, who shook his head.
"Doesn't sound like me." He explained his negative response.
"Okay," she repeated the process, "how about Ralph?"
"No thank you."
The book closed again and opened once more. "Michael?" She asked, with an approving look. "I like it. You look like you could be a Michael." She suggested.
The boy paused. The name did sound like it could fit him, but something seemed off about it. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't like that name. "No. I don't think I like that name." He expressed his thoughts truthfully.
"All right, no to Michael." She sighed. This was getting a bit frustrating. "All right, one more and then I have to go hit the sack; I got an early shift tomorrow." She told the young man, who nodded with understanding. With a final flip of the book, Sarah slammed her pointer finger down onto the page. "Adam?" She asked him, looking for approval. She actually liked this name. She and James almost agreed to call Aiden this name, but they decided on Aiden because it was James' favorite grandfather's name.
The boy paused once more in thought at the sound of that name. It sounded…right. He couldn't explain it, but he felt an odd connection to that name. "I like it." He finally replied and was glad that Sarah nodded in approval.
"Me too. So, now," She waved the book in front of him, as if it was a wand or a sword, "I hereby dub you, Adam. Adam Anderson!" She laughed, and he laughed with her.
"Why Anderson?" He asked after they stopped laughing.
"What? You don't like my last name?" She playfully glared at him.
"No, no. I like it. I just didn't know you wanted to me to be a part of your family." He rushed out, causing Sarah to look at him with quizzical expression.
"Of course I want you to be a part of my family." She let a genuine smile of pride and comfort and Adam happily returned the smile.
"Now come on. Let's go to sleep, Adam!" She happily exclaimed as she got off the couch and headed upstairs.
Adam smiled, glad to finally have a name to claim as his own. Soon, he hoped that this name would help him feel like he had an identity, just as he now felt like he had a family.