It was hard to focus. As he looked at the two way glass, inspecting his face, checking his eyes, sticking out his tongue, everything felt right. Running a hand over the stubble on his face, the young man frowned slightly before he turned away and moved back to his chair on the table. His eyes still roamed the room, obviously trying to make sense of everything that had been told to him but, again, it was getting harder and harder to focus. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t 50 years old.

Jorge Cervantes knew who he was. He was a recent hire for the Miami Police Department. He had been on the job for a little over a year now and was hitting his stride. He had helped to break up a pretty big car theft ring in the city and was still riding high on that fame. But now...ugh...now it just didn’t make any sense.

His clothes were somewhat ill-fitting, smaller than what was necessary for his frame, as if they belonged to a thinner man. But as he opened the familiar jacket, he pulled a gold badge from the pocket inside. As he turned it around, looking at the I.D. he stared at a face he didn’t recognize. Jorge Cervantes, it said it right there, his name, his age, his current address, but that couldn’t be him, right? He was only 24 and was living in Miami just yesterday, and now he was in New York City.

It was...confusing.

Staring ahead, he tried to remember. He looked at the photo supposedly of himself, and found the corners of his eyes blurring. There was something about that face, something he recognized, something that he couldn’t put his finger on…

He saw himself...or rather, himself with that face. He was looking in a rear view mirror, brushed his hair back, before getting out of a car. His badge was snapped to his belt, casting a reflective gold spot ahead of him as he moved. Gun drawn, he and a few other officers, faces he didn’t recognize, moved in a standard formation as they swarmed into a warehouse. They checked corners, they shouted orders, and then that’s when the fog rolled in.

The odd smoke that obscured his view. There were shouts, pained screams from other officers, and then Jorge remembered himself screaming. But just as he tried to zero in on that memory, he felt an odd pang in the back of his mind. He winced, shook his head, and finally took several deep breaths. With a shaky sigh he tried to shake the feeling off. That memory was quickly turning in fragments and shadows in his mind, the pain dissipating as it did so. What was going on?

Jorge glanced to the door in the waiting room. The officers here told him that family was coming. His madre? Papa? Jayda? If he was in New York, surely they were as well. Frustration began to overtake him as he tried to find things to occupy his mind, such as playing with the ring that he had inadvertently slipped off his finger and was now spinning on the tabletop. He didn’t spare a thought as to why he was wearing it, and instead just continued to flick it between his hands.

***

Officer Starling Bleu was fairly new to the M.C.U. but she was proving herself to be an asset. A graduate of Xavier’s, her animal shifting powers came in handy more often than others would think. A lot of the officers thought she was going to be soft, but Jorge saw the potential in her. He always said he had a feeling about her and Star shown through with flying colors. She had only been here a couple years but Jorge, herself, even his wife, had all become good friends. They had even doubled dated once with her girlfriend, Marina. Their dogs, Finn and Lizzie, got along super well.

But that was what made this all the more difficult. Jorge was different now. A victim of the deaging phenomena that had been occurring around the city, he now was in his 20s and didn’t remember a damn thing: that included his wife, Gemma. This was going to be a painful reunion.

Star wandered around the precinct as an orange and white tabby, slinking between legs, hopping up on desks, and making her way to the front. It was often the easiest way to move around the hustle and bustle of the precinct and most officers knew to make way for her. She needed to intercept Gemma before someone else did. When she finally made it to the front, she jumped onto the reception desk, ignoring the shoos of the officer there and kept watch with her feline eyes.

Star had been the one to call her and knew it wouldn’t take the guidance counselor long to get here. Gemma Taylor was a known figure around here, as was her husband, Jorge. But this wasn’t going to be a sweet meeting of married partners checking on each other, rather, things were far more devastating. So much so that the officers actually took a half second to draw straws to figure out who was going to break the news to her. Star didn’t consider herself lucky.

When she spotted Gemma, she hopped off the desk and quickly shifted back into her human form, a shorter woman with blond hair and, usually, a bright smile. This time her lips were twisted in an odd grimace as she approached the much, much taller woman.

“Hey Ms. Taylor…” she said with a sigh. She gave her an awkward hug before she stepped back, leading Gemma into the precinct. “...I’m so, so sorry to have to call you in. Are you okay?” Stupid question, Star. Stupid question.

Logically, in her head, Gemma knew that a call like this was always a possibility. It came with the package of being married to a police officer. Any time she could be called about something that happened to Jorge.
Being prepared for it did not make the whole thing one bit easier.

Gemma walked into the station with her heart in her throat. She knew Jorge was alive and okay... but something was still off, or he would have called himself. Getting near her, a cat shifted into a young blonde woman, and Gemma barely noticed.

>>“Hey Ms. Taylor...I’m so, so sorry to have to call you in. Are you okay?”

"I'm fine" Gemma was relieved to see a familiar face, but the concern in Starling's voice made her heart sink "Is Jorge okay? What happened?"

Star hated being the bearer of bad news. That was why most of the officers didn’t think she would last when she first started. She was very empathetic with the people that she spoke with and they knew it was a trait that could get her into trouble. But Star always found a way to push through those feelings and do her job. However, at the moment, it was harder and harder to actually remember that. Gemma and Jorge were so amazing, the fact that anything happened to either one of them was heartrending.

And this was certainly heartrending. Star bit her lip as Gemma asked, seemingly a thousand miles away, what was wrong with Jorge. Marching forward, she led the way to the waiting rooms where Jorge was currently being kept. After sucking in a breath to calm her nerves, she spoke up.

“The deaging phenomena. The one that keeps happening throughout the city?” she gulped. “Jorge and couple other officers were raiding a warehouse and we got the call over the radio. The officers that went in...all came out much younger than when they entered; including Jorge.”

As they passed waiting room, over figures could be seen inside. Young teens, children, twenty-somethings, all sitting and talking with families or friends who looked completely devastated as the former officers looked upon them like they were complete strangers. It was a harsh walk but, eventually, Star stopped at one of the doors without a window.

She turned to Gemma. “Are you ready?” She asked. When confirmed she opened the door, pushing it open to reveal what was inside.

***

Jorge was still sitting at the desk, staring at his badge. This wasn’t his Miami P.D. badge, but he still felt like it was his, even though he had never served in New York. It was a very odd feeling and one that added credence to what some of the officers he had spoken to had been saying. That he was one of theirs, just that he couldn’t remember anymore because of some Ponce de Leon, Fountain of Youth, freakiness that was happening. It was still so difficult to be true.

Last he remembered, it was 1994. But the newspaper that the officers had given him as proof said it was 2020. He could only shake his head. 26 years? It sounded so absurd, like something from a book, but if this were a prank, it was exceedingly elaborate.

Jorge continued to try and wrap his head around everything when he felt movement out of the corner of his eye. He winced, still getting used to seeing the water in people moving around him. Everytime it struck him like a spike in the back of his brain. He couldn’t do that at 24, that he was certain of. But there was one strange thing he noticed...when there was footsteps but also a large gap in his vision. It sounded like two people but why couldn’t he see their watery outlines out in the hall?

He barely had time to ponder this when the door opened. He stood up, watching as the young officer from before held the door for another figure. A very tall, very beautiful, older woman. Jorge stared at her, his head tilted curiously. Familiar. There was a hint of familiarity there but damned if he couldn’t place it. Instead he continued to stare at her with unrecognized eyes.

Jorge was tall, at least 6’1 with tight, fresh into the police force, athletic build that shown through the tight, light gray shirt. His jeans were dark blue though slightly worn, his leather jacket being in the same state. All-in-all, they were clothes he didn’t recognize, though an older, 50 year old Jorge would as they were the clothes he left home in.

”Ma’am…” he said softly, greeting the new stranger with a respectful nod. He then turned to Officer Bleu. ”I’m sorry...but...did you say my family was coming?” He looked back at the older woman, a soft shake of his head. ”Sorry to say but you might have the wrong room.”

Gemma only had to take one look at Starling to know it was not good news at all. Did they lie when they said Jorge was alive?...

>>“The deaging phenomena. The one that keeps happening throughout the city?... Jorge and couple other officers were raiding a warehouse and we got the call over the radio. The officers that went in...all came out much younger than when they entered; including Jorge.”

Gemma reeled from the news. She steadied herself against the counter with one hand, and covered her mouth with the other, her eyes wide. She knew about the de-aging. It had hit a couple of people at the Mansion, including Sam, and none of them remembered what happened; the X-men were just beginning to look into it. Even worse, she already knew that her aura was useless against it.

And now, Jorge was young. And he wouldn't remember her.

Gemma followed Starling quietly, seeing other rooms with young people and their families. Did they remember them? Was this permanent? No one had changed back yet at the school. The thought made Gemma squeeze her eyes shut for a moment, trying to hold it together.

One thing at a time.

>>“Are you ready?”

"No." Gemma admitted softly, and then walked into the room.

The young man in Jorge's clothes, the ones she knew so well, was... god, he was young. Not a child or a teen, but a version of Jorge she had not seen before. The same genuine look, and somehow familiar around the eyes, but also... not her husband. Not the Jorge she knew. Gemma paused in the doorway.

>>”Ma’am… I’m sorry...but...did you say my family was coming? Sorry to say but you might have the wrong room.”

Ma'am.

Gemma swallowed her tears. There was no need to hurt him more. This had to be bad enough, waking up decades in the future.

"Jorge... My name is Gemma Taylor. We know each other from Xavier's."

Jorge looked at Officer Bleu. The young woman was biting her lip, looking the most uncomfortable she could look after Jorge spoke to the taller woman. Why did she look so...guilty? Like she was in on something that he didn’t know? It made the young officer a little uneasy, especially when he turned his attention back to the stranger. Her eyes, they looked like they were hurting, but from what? His natural empathy wanted to take over, to ask if she was okay, but as she approached, speaking in a familiar tone, he stopped and took a step back.

He didn’t know her. One of the first things he learned as an officer was to be on his guard, no matter what. Given the situation, he was going to be just a little jumpy, especially since he didn’t fully understand what had happened.

But it was only one step. He stopped when the older woman introduced herself and proceeded to tell him that they knew one another from Xavier’s. The name, Xavier, that sounded familiar. He had heard a few of the officers here talk about it, saying that’s where they should send the those who have been “deaged”. Presumably, that was what happened to him. What kind of facility was it?

He stared at Gemma. She said that she knew him from there, but did he believe her? There was something about her face that was trusting, but he wasn’t fully there yet. Her presence threw him off. As she drew closer, he could feel his own senses to the surrounding water began to minimize until they completely vanished. It was not a feeling he enjoyed and made him all the more wary.

“I’ll...give you two a moment,” Star suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Jorge turned to her, watching as Officer Bleu stepped out and closed the door behind her. Left alone Ms. Taylor, Jorge watch her suspiciously. She claimed to know him, but he didn’t know her because of this deaging? Would the cops let someone in claiming to know another without any proof? Unlikely. This wasn’t some improbable 1980s movie and he wasn’t a rich socialite brat with amnesia. He knew who he was, what he didn’t know was what was going on.

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he gave her another close look before he spoke up. ”What is ‘Xavier’s’, Ms. Taylor?” he asked. ”I’ve heard it mentioned a few times around here concerning my condition. Is it a hospital?” A pause as he watched her, eyes giving her a scrutinizing gaze as if trying to judge how much he trusted her. ”And how did we know each other?”

Blue left them alone. Gemma was not sure she would be able to do this without breaking down, but she had to try. She saw the confusion in Jorge's eyes, the way he stepped back when she entered. This was bad enough already. And with decades missing from his memory, she didn't even know how much exactly he knew about the world he found himself in. Was Xaviers something he'd already heard about?

>>”What is ‘Xavier’s’, Ms. Taylor? I’ve heard it mentioned a few times around here concerning my condition. Is it a hospital? And how did we know each other?”

Gemma stood still, hands clasped behind her back. Her fingers worked on slipping her wedding ring off as she tried to give an easy answer.

"Not a hospital. Xavier's is a school for mutant children. I work there as a guidance counselor, and you are... you were on the faculty. Teaching kids how to control their mutations." she paused "I know this is very confusing. You are not the first one to get hit with it. I worked with the others. That's why I'm here."

That, and because I love you.

The wedding ring finally came off.

Everything that was happening made no sense, but it was clear that this was real life and not a fantasy (Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?). He felt things, memories that were trying to break through, things that felt so familiar and so strained at the same time. It hurt his head to focus on them for too long but if there were something wrong with him, he needed to suffer it if it meant that he would eventually have answers.

Gemma. God that name rang with familiarity. After she introduced herself, that sensation of memories trying to break through popped into his head again. It offered validity to her statement. He felt like he knew her, but the full context of it was missing. She was a name and a face, but little more than that at the moment. More than just another person he met on the street a couple times; she was someone he must have known.

He was still visibly uneasy but he started to relax a little when she explained what Xavier’s was. His fear was that it was some kind of mental hospital and she was his therapist (or some other strange situation), but that wasn’t the case. Everything she said seemed to check out. The police seemed to treat Xavier’s like a godsend when it came to these cases. They handled mutants, taught them, so it was of little wonder that they were getting the brunt of these strange deaging cases.

A teacher? He looked closed at Ms. Taylor. ”I’m...a teacher?” he asked. ”But...Officer Bleu said that I was on a case with a few others when this happened. I thought I was a cop?”

Continuity error? Or was he really just a busy, busy man? Honestly it didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility for him. The one thing he always wanted was to help people. If he could do that by balancing both a police and a teaching career, he guessed he would have jumped at the chance. Still, the notion struck him as...interesting. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Ms. Taylor, it was just a lot to process at once.

Running his hand across his stubbly chin, he gulped as he tried to organize his thoughts. To him it was 1994 but the rest of the world was in 2020. This was...a definitely leap and certainly required a bit of faith. Did he have faith in Gemma? She seemed nice, if a little tense. This was still a lot to wrap his head around. And it was as he was having this thought that a question crept into his mind.

He raised his eyes to the woman, watching closer. ”If we have worked together...and you know me…” he said as he dug into his jacket pocket. He pulled out the ring that he had found on his finger and held it up to her. ”Can you tell me? Am I married? Why aren’t they here?” he asked.

The officers around here seemed to be dodging the question. Most didn’t seem to want to say anything and instead pushed it off or ignored it. While he wasn’t the type to believe he’d marry at 24, if he had lived as long a life as they were saying, then it must have happened at some point...right? Otherwise why would he have the ring? A simple, completely unfamiliar ring? And why weren’t they here to see him? Was he divorced? Had they passed? He wanted an answer. If this woman knew him well enough for the police to call her over, surely she must know.

There was information that had to be shared first. He already knew he was a cop, and that he had been de-aged and that it was 2020. The how and why was still a question, but for the remaining things to fill him in, she needed to be careful and selective. She knew Jorge as a strong man, but this situation was new for everyone.

>>”I’m...a teacher? But...Officer Bleu said that I was on a case with a few others when this happened. I thought I was a cop?”

"You are both. You are a cop, and a good one. And you are helping out with classes at Xavier's."

He seemed like he could deal with his information. Maybe a little strange, but even in his 20s he probably had thoughts about doing something more than just working for the police force.

>>”If we have worked together...and you know me… Can you tell me? Am I married? Why aren’t they here?”

How was she supposed to answer that? Gemma tried to pause and consider it without looking like she just froze up. She was not ready to tell him. She was also not ready to spin up some kind of an elaborate lie.

"There are... other things we should talk about first." she stepped closer and paused again "Is it alright if I approach you? Do you know what an adapted human is?"

The question had been bothering him since he first pulled the ring off of his finger. He knew what a wedding ring was and the finger it was supposed to go on. But what he last remembered in 1994, he wasn’t married. He had been casually seeing someone but it hadn’t been more than a couple dates. Actually had been getting ready to end things with her because they were just spinning their wheels in the mud. But now that it was 2020 and he was married to someone of whom he had no idea.

That was a problem. Not because he didn’t want to be married but because he couldn’t remember them. How they fell in love? Where they met? What their favorite day was together? He couldn’t remember anything at all that reminded him of a spouse. That needle dug a bit deeper than he thought it would.

So he wanted to know. If she was right and she actually knew him, worked with him, then surely she would know who his spouse was. A name. A gender. A location. Better why, why weren’t they here? The officers around him seemed to either not know or were reluctant to answer. What was he supposed to do with that?

Ms. Taylor was stoic as he asked this question...and then proceeded to say that other things should be discussed her. She seemed very nice but, admittedly, that irritated him a small bit. Frustration loomed as he lowered his gaze, shaking his head. Why wasn’t anyone talking about it? Were they dead? A giant evil slug monster? Honestly his brain burned just trying to think about it.

Hands on his hips, he turned away. Closing his eyes he took a deep, calming breath. He knew he had to keep his head on straight. Normally he did but this was a very drastic situation. Already he could feel his head reeling from this information so he had to take a second to pause, breathe deep, and let it out slowly. He tried to focus on what he felt was right of what Ms. Taylor told him.

He was a cop. A good cop. And he was a teacher who helped students with their mutations. The fact that all this was so open still astounded him but he was grateful to know that even in his old age, he was trying to help. That was at least one light in the darkness.

Turning back to her, his lifted his head, his expression a little more at peace. ”Sorry…” he said. ”Just a little...frustrating. Um, yes, by all means,” he said, reaching down to pull out the chair for her. No matter the crisis, he had manners. He sat on the edge of the table, watching her as she asked him about “adapteds”. He shook his head slowly. ”No. Is that another mutant term?”

There was no good way to avoid telling him about marriage forever. There was also no good way to break the news. Hello, I'm Gemma, and I'm married to you. Ugh. She tried to imagine meeting a stranger, a much older stranger, for the very first time, and being told they had a life together, she could just not remember any of it.
There was no good way to sugarcoat that.

He offered a seat and she took it, sitting across the table from him. He moved on the edge of her aura now. Now that was a priority she could address.

>>”No. Is that another mutant term?”

"Not quite. It means I have an aura that cancels out mutant powers. Which you might experience if you step any closer. I mentioning it as a courtesy."

The term “Adapted” didn’t sound familiar to him. He could hazard a guess, though. A variation of human? Mutant seemed like the most likely culprit so that was what he said when she asked him. Whether right or wrong, it seemed that she would tell him as she was one. So he settled into a seat, continued to calm his nerves, and listened.

Honestly what she said seemed to line up with what he had just experienced. He knew that his powers were different, stronger than what he last remembered, otherwise he wouldn’t have believed this whole story. He found that not only did he have a connection to water, but it was so strong he could literally feel it in the people around him. He could see them through the walls, blobs of human shaped water walking about their day. But when he looked at Ms. Taylor, even before she walked into the room, he couldn’t see her. This explained it.

”Huh…” he said. ”...that makes sense.” A soft, calming sigh fell from his lips. ”My powers are different. Stronger. I was wondering why they were acting funny when you and Officer Bleu were in the hallway.”

He had never heard of something like this. He knew he was a mutant but he also knew that being such needed to stay a secret. This greatly contradicted everything now. Hell, it was explained to him that he was a member of the Mutant Related Crimes unit! A branch of the police force designated just to help and deal with mutants. Apparently the world changed a lot in twenty years.

He looked back up to her. ”I guess the world changed a lot more than I realized.”

No one was entirely sure how long adapteds had been around. They were hard to spot, and unless one of them ran into a mutant whose mutation was active and noticeable, there was a chance one could live an entire life as an adapted and never know about it. Especially because mutants were as open as they were now. She wondered what Jorge in his 20s knew about all this.

>>”Huh...that makes sense. My powers are different. Stronger. I was wondering why they were acting funny when you and Officer Bleu were in the hallway... I guess the world changed a lot more than I realized.”

Gemma nodded, sitting back, allowing him to sit in or out of her aura as he wanted.

"From what we can tell, people who are de-aged retain their powers, even the ones they developed after their re-established age. Some of what you can do might be new to you. You should be careful with using your powers... at least until I can get you the files that describe exactly what we know you can do."

They had done that for the other de-aged mutants as well. It was good the Mansion had been keeping up on its records. Gemma folded her arms.

"I'm sorry. This must be terribly confusing for you."

Jorge thought he knew his powers. Why wouldn’t he? He had them since he was 15 and it had been a long, hard road for him to achieve the control that he had. Though he often wondered if his abilities would change with time, he wasn’t expecting how much they would change as he grew up. Though he wasn’t fully aware of all his abilities, things just felt stronger. His connection to the water, his ability to see others, the intricacy with which he could control it, it was all mind boggling.

His eyes fell upon Ms. Taylor again as she explained a bit more about the situation. It seemed that those mutants who had been deaged managed to retain their powers, however they had evolved or grown over the years. That was a relief to some, but to others he could see it as being quite problematic. They were being thrust into a new world with abilities that they had little knowledge of possessing. Certainly a terrifying prospect.

He nodded when it was said that a file would be given with everything he had learned to do. If he worked at such a school, he guessed it would make sense for them to have such information on hand. Still, he wondered what else they had on him.

That thought inevitably brought him back to wondering about his family. Who was he, personally, in New York? He knew that he was a cop and a teacher, and clearly there was something else as indicated by the ring he had on him. She seemed so reluctant to answer that. So, instead, he would try to ease into that information by asking the next important questions.

”What of my family?” He asked this cautiously. It has been 26 years to him. So much could have happened. So much could have changed. He watched her, as if trying to gauge her expression as she attempted to answer. ”My parents? My sister? Are they...around?”

People who were de-aged had to deal with multiple things at once. They were in a strange place in a strange time, things were different, their lives were different, their powers were out of control. They lost people they remembered, and found people they did not know. It was the motherload of issues someone had to work through at a moment's notice, and it was hard to watch them struggle with it, even if one tried her best to help.

>>”What of my family? My parents? My sister? Are they...around?”

Gemma sighed. She knew he would get back to the question of marriage eventually, but maybe she had time to stall.

"Your sister and your mother are around and well. Your father... passed away a couple of years ago." she said quietly. "I know this is a lot to take in. If you are ready to leave, I can take you home, and we can talk more on the way?"

Jorge was understandably shaken. He wanted to know where his family was. More often than not, they were the only ones who were important to him. They protected him when his mutation developed. They ensure he was safe and encouraged him to pursue whatever life he wanted to pursue. And to learn that one of them had passed, and he couldn’t even remember, was a harsh blow. How do you come back from that?

He didn’t say anything after Ms. Taylor told him that. Instead he partially shut down, stared into the surface of the table and tried to collect his whirling thoughts. He loved his father. He was a good, honest man who worked hard everyday of his life. His tenacity and responsible, yet loving nature, were what inspired Jorge to be the man he was. Who he wanted to be. And now he was gone and he couldn’t even remember what happened.

Vaguely he checked in again when Gemma told him that she could take him home. They would be able to talk more along the way. Quietly he mulled those thoughts over but he responded with a small nod of his head. He didn’t cry. He was too overwhelmed with confusion to really cry, but he knew he didn’t want to be in this room anymore. This would be one of those instances where he would trust a complete stranger with blind faith.

***

The discharge process was simple enough. They took his statement about what he remembered happening, gave him a few of his belongings he had been found with, and entrusted him to Ms. Taylor. Strange how they trusted her so easily. Maybe she really was a good friend of his. The police wouldn’t just send him off with anyone without proof, you know. It added validity to her story that they had been friends, or at least co-workers, in his old life.

The next thing he knew, Jorge found himself in Ms. Taylor’s car, sitting in the passenger seat, looking out the window. New York City. He had always heard about it, seen it in movies, but never thought he would experience it for his own. As the grief for his father began to wane, he glanced back to Gemma, curiosity still tingling at the back of his brain.

”How long have I lived here?” he asked. ”Last I remember I was hired and placed by Miami P.D. about a year ago. Do I...like it here?”

He stopped and shook his head. He was beginning to feel a little selfish now for asking so many questions that he turned to face her.

”I apologize for asking you so many questions about me. I should be asking a bit more about you,” he apologized. ”Why don’t you tell me a little bit more about you? You work at Xavier’s you said? How long?”