Gemma checked Jorge out from the police station. Blue must have told the others about her meeting with her husband, because nobody made any comments that might have been suspicious. They were respectful, but Gemma could see their eyes, and read the mixed emotions - pity, sadness, even guilt. They were quiet for a long while as they headed to Jorge's apartment. Even if he was processing at superhuman speed, he had a lot to work through.

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

Gemma smiled a little despite all the emotions she was feeling.

"Almost ten years." Had it really been that long? She remembered the time they first met, Jorge walking Lizzie, and both of them getting splashed with water before he realized she had an adapted aura. Ten whole years in a crazy New York City filled with all kinds up things she'd never imagined. Like marrying Jorge.

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

Sweet man. Even with most of his life's memories lost, he was trying to be polite to her. Gemma bit her lips, and focused on the questions.

"About the same time. I moved here from Baltimore, and got a job as a guidance counselor at Xavier's. For some reason they thought having an adapted around mutant kids was a good idea." she chuckled "The man who hired me recently lost his... he was de-aged as well. He's a teen again. So I'm one of the ranking adults at the school now."

Jorge was quiet as he let the answer mull about in his head. Ten years. He had been living here for the last ten years. Wow. It really seemed as if he lived a life that he had no knowledge of. Of course she could have just been making all this up but given their frank conversation, that didn’t seem very likely. If anything, Gemma had been the most honest one that he has met. On top of that, he trusted her. He didn’t know why but he did and that was a feeling he was willing to follow.

He would have to investigate all this a bit further. From what he had been able to gather so far, he was living here in New York City by himself (save for the spouse she was taking her time telling him about). He was still itching to know more but his head was beginning to hurt with how much information he was taking in. He needed a respite so, instead, inquired after her own life

”Baltimore? Never been but seemed nice,” he said, glancing to her but continuing to look ahead.

He remained silent as she continued. She was hired when she came out here, her natural gifts obviously a use in a school full of mutants with rapidly growing superpowers. He could see the validity in that. However it seemed that this whole mess was something that was happening a lot around her. Her own boss was a victim of this deaging too and now she was one of the few adults left.

Tragic. No wonder she seemed a little emotional. He sighed as he turned to look out the window again.

”Sorry to hear you are under so much stress, Ms. Taylor,” he said empathetically. ”It’s no fun on this end either. Not knowing if the things people are telling you are true or not. Feeling like you are an alien on some unknown planet. But I guess I’m lucky...” He turned to glance at her as she drove. ”...I trust you.”

He then gave her a small, sad, lopsided smile before he faced the street again. None of this looked familiar to him but they were seemingly getting close. He wondered where he lived...and if it would hold further information as to who this older Jorge Cervantes was.

>>”Baltimore? Never been but seemed nice,”

You have. Gemma had taken Jorge to show him where she grew up, some time before they got married. Of course, he would not remember that. And neither would he remember spending years in the ocean.

>>”Sorry to hear you are under so much stress, Ms. Taylor. It’s no fun on this end either. Not knowing if the things people are telling you are true or not. Feeling like you are an alien on some unknown planet. But I guess I’m lucky...I trust you.”

Gemma was sure there would be an audible crack from her chest at his words. There should have been. This was unfair. He had no idea what he lost, and she was holding all those memories for him. Several people had de-aged, but none had been reversed yet. No one knew if it was possible. Jorge certainly didn't. And still, he was being so friendly. So polite. Gemma saw the half-smile, and turned her head, checking for traffic, trying to keep her emotions under control.

"Out of the two of us, I think your part is more difficult. You'll have to re-learn and process a lot of things. I'll try to help you as much as I can. And so will your friends." she glanced over at him "Do you... did you have a dog, at your age? You have one now. She's very friendly."

Jorge wasn’t entirely sure what was going on with Ms. Taylor but he could sense some kind of uneasiness about her as they continued talking. He worried that maybe he had struck the nerve of a topic she didn’t want to discuss but she continued to press on. Still, it wasn’t as if he could read her mind. He wanted to know what was going on with her but he also wanted to have answers to his own questions. Call him selfish but he was slightly more focused on what he was going through.

But he wouldn’t call her out on anything. He hardly knew her and she wasn’t comfortable talking about something, then he wouldn’t make her. Still, it was hard to keep that in mind. She seemed to know him. Knew the man he turned out to be. In what capacity he wasn’t fully sure but they at least seemed to be close friends. Maybe there was some way he was speaking that was making her uncomfortable?

He turned away, his eyes focusing on the streets. He was desperate for something, anything to look familiar. Unfortunately it seemed as if that simply wasn’t the case. The buildings, the people, the storefronts, all of it looked completely alien to him. And that was the most disheartening.

Watching as a couple walked down the street, hand in hand, he listened as Gemma warned him that he was probably going to be facing the worst part of all this. He had things to relearn, bonds to reforge, and the terror of knowing that so much of his life was now gone to him.

He scoffed, taking in a nervous breath. ”Quite the pep talker, huh?” he smirked sadly. But he wouldn’t dwell too long. Instead he focused on her next question. Did he have a dog. He smirked sadly. ”Last weekend…” he stopped himself, paused, and continued. ”Last weekend that I can remember...I saw her at my parent’s house. Dutchess, my golden retriever. But...she was pretty old. If this much time has passed…” he finally turned back to her. ”...I take it she’s not around anymore either?”

Gemma wanted to say more encouraging things to Jorge, the way she did with the students when they were in a tough spot, but nothing came to her mind, other than admitting that what he was dealing with was very, very difficult. Sugarcoating it would not have done any good. Sometimes it did, but not in this case.

>>”Quite the pep talker, huh?”

"I usually do better than this." she admitted. Then again, it was usually not her husband. She hoped maybe the mention of the dog would be a silver lining.

>>”Last weekend… Last weekend that I can remember...I saw her at my parent’s house. Dutchess, my golden retriever. But...she was pretty old. If this much time has passed...I take it she’s not around anymore either?”

Goddamn it.

Gemma sighed.

"I really am not good at this." she admitted "No, Dutchess is... not around. But Lizzie is. She's a very good girl. I can bring her over later, if you want... you left her at the school before your mission."

She gave Jorge an apologetic look as they pulled up in front of his apartment building.

"I'm sorry. It feels like there is no right thing to say."

He smirked a bit sadly. It was a bit of a backhanded comment that he didn’t quite mean to come out the way it did. Obviously she was taking it hard, mumbling that she was better at this kind of stuff. Jorge, though frustrated, lost, and alone, immediately felt remorse for saying it. He turned to her, shaking his head, a look of apology in his eyes as he spoke.

”Oh, please don’t be offended. I...should have phrased that better,” he said. ”Or kept my mouth shut. You’ve been amazing so far.” He sighed deeply and glanced out the window again. They were slowing down. ”Guess I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

Really how many people going through this had someone understanding to see them through it? Family members would be rocked and spouses would find themselves heartbroken that their significant other couldn’t remember them. He was lucky that Ms. Taylor seemed like a good friend he would keep in his life. Hopefully, whenever things settled down, he would be able to thank her properly.

When asked about his dog, the only name that came to him was Dutchess. She was a golden retriever that had been in the family home since he was a teenager. He often marveled at her longevity but knew that it wasn’t going to last forever. Seeing as he was actually much, much older now (despite his memories) he didn’t hold any ill-will that she had passed.

But Lizzie? Oddly the name had some familiarity to it but he couldn’t see the dog’s face. Ugh, it was just so frustrating. Every time it felt like he had found some clue, some kernel as to who he was supposed to be, it was snatched away, just out of reach. Things seemed and felt familiar but their full context was lost upon him. For a moment he was filled with existential dread that this was it. This was how he was going to live his life? With a sheet draped over his head, just thin enough to allow him to make out shapes in his surrounding world but unable to truly perceive them?

The car came to a stop and he was shaken out of his thoughts. He glanced to Ms. Taylor, smiling meekly and nodding his head. ”I’d like to meet her, yes,” he said. He turned to look out the window again and it dawned that this was their stop. This was his apartment building. Gemma stated as much, saying that they had reached their destination. Numbly he undid his seatbelt, opened the door and stepped outside.

He stood, staring at the building for several seconds. Again he felt that tingle along the edges of his memory, something trying to break through to tell him that he should know this place. And he did, in a way. He just didn’t have the full context of it like with many of the things in his life he should know.

Waiting until Gemma was at his side again, he chewed on his lip and sighed. ”So...this is it...home…” he said. But the tone of his voice was telling. He didn’t fully recognize it. Troubling, of course. Either way, he hoped there were some hints and answers within.

>>”Oh, please don’t be offended. I...should have phrased that better. Or kept my mouth shut. You’ve been amazing so far. Guess I’m lucky to have a friend like you.”

He really didn't know what he was talking about; none of this was his fault. No one knew how or why the de-aging happened to people yet, but whatever it was, Jorge did not ask for it. She was trying to hold it all together, and he was too, and also trying to be friendly to a complete stranger that somehow knew him better he knew himself.

Gemma just hoped at least Lizzie would recognize her dad.

>>”I’d like to meet her, yes,”

She would bring the dog over later. She couldn't really take Jorge to the school; too many chances for the truth to be sprung on him without warning. She took him to his apartment instead. He kept it because it was a good place to take a break from the Mansion, or sleep over when he was working late. But not really as home-like as their apartment at Xavier's.

>>”So...this is it...home…”

No it isn't

Gemma led the way upstairs and to his apartment.

"I'm not sure what state it's in." she admitted; at least that part was true. She hoped to walk in first, taking a quick glance around in case there were obvious signs of her in sight. "If you want some food, we can order some, or I can run and get some groceries for you." she glanced at him "And... you might need some new clothes."

It really was the weirdest feeling. As he followed Ms. Taylor into the building, ascending the steps one at a time, he kept looking around for anything that would have a flash of recognition. Admittedly there was something there that felt familiar. The number of steps felt right. There was a familiar scent in the air from a neighbor’s door, as if he had that particular brand of cooking before. But that was about it. The finer details were smudged or blurred out. Irritating.

As they climbed higher and higher, they finally stopped on one of the floors. Yeah. This felt right. There was something instinctive about stopping here, but which door was his he couldn’t identify. It was a good thing he had Ms. Taylor here or he’d be wandering about, trying his key on every lock.

”I’m sure I’ll be fine with whatever state,” he said with a sigh. ”So long as there is something familiar.”

He shook his head at the sound of food. Honestly he wasn’t a bit hungry. Now that they were standing outside his apartment, he wanted nothing more but to get in and see if there was anything there to help stir his memory. He was anxious about it. It was just an apartment, his apartment, but what if there was nothing in there he recognized? What if that was filled with ghosts as well?

”Oh, that’s...that’s sweet,” he finally said. ”But I’m not that hungry right now. I just...want to get inside and look around if that’s okay?”

Though he really couldn’t argue with the new close. He saw a photo of himself on his I.D. and the clothes he was wearing now, well, they were a little ill fitting. For someone who was a bit thinner than he was. Apparently he had lost some muscle mass as he got older. Shaking those trivial things away, he waited for Gemma to open the door to his apartment and promptly followed in after her.

The scent was slightly stale. It was like he didn’t live here often. He mused on this and pulled his wallet and badge from his pocket, tossing them into a bowl that was directly next to the door. He started to take a step in...but stopped. Huh. He turned to look at the bowl. He wasn’t even aware that it was there...and yet...he was. It was something so small, but it was habit. It was something from his old life that he remembered. He breathed a small sigh of relief.

He glanced to Ms. Taylor, smiling. ”I guess...that’s a good sign?” he said. Then, closing the door, he stepped in further. Come on, old Jorge Cervantes. It was time to show yourself...

>>”I’m sure I’ll be fine with whatever state. So long as there is something familiar.”

There was nothing that would be familiar to him at the apartment. It had been rented decades after how old he was now. He seemed to hope that he would get his memories back without aging, but Gemma was not sure that was even possible.

>>”Oh, that’s...that’s sweet. But I’m not that hungry right now. I just...want to get inside and look around if that’s okay?”

Gemma did not have time for more than a cursory glance as they entered, but she saw no signs of trouble just yet. None of her random pieces of clothing, or family photos in visible places. She couldn't just go around turning drawers inside out. But at least there was nothing glaringly obvious.

Jorge walked in, and threw his things in the bowl by the door with the same motion he always did. Gemma blinked. So far, none of the de-aged people had displayed muscle memory like that.

>>”I guess...that’s a good sign?”

"That's... definitely a good sign" she nodded, although she was not entirely sure. She looked around, running a hand through her hair. "Alright... I should probably go get you some things. Our files on your powers, Lizzie, I'll see if I can rustle up some clothes... anything else you need?"

The apartment...felt familiar. That wasn’t a lot to go on but it was better than nothing. After he had tossed his stuff into the nearby bowl, an action that felt more like habit than intention, he was filled with a spark of hope. That was a good sign right? It meant that some things were not completely alien to him. Maybe he could allow himself to have some sort of hope after all.

He began to move around the apartment, slowly, eyes following and looking at everything to find some sort of familiarity. There were shelves full of books, a beat-up but comfy looking couch, a few odds and ends, but nothing that outright screamed “personal” information to him. Strange. The one thing he wasn’t finding much of were any personal photographs. It was really more like this was just a stop off for him.

Gemma did say that this apartment was more of a side place for him, that he stayed more often at the Mansion where he conducted his work with the mutant kids. This place was only utilized for getaways and for when he had to work long shifts as it was closer to the precinct. Apparently he had moved most of his stuff over there. Perfect.

He sighed, picking up a random knick-knack. He turned it over in his hands. Looked like a mini palm tree from some hotel in the Caribbean that just said “Congratulations!!” printed on the base. He stared at it blankly before setting it back down.

He turned when Ms. Taylor spoke, stating that she was going to head off, pick up a couple of things for him and bring him back Lizzie. After asking if he needed anything else, he thought for a moment and shook his head.

”No…” he said. ”...but thank you.” After a moment he walked up and gave her a warm, though sad, smile. ”I mean that. Thank you for everything, Gems.”

He leaned in. Just a fraction of an inch. But stopped, a look of confusion momentarily flashing over his expression. He leaned away, eyes fogged over for an instant before he shook it off. He stared at her for a few seconds before he stepped back, offering her an apologetic smile.

”Um, again, thank you,” he said and turned back to the apartment. He had clues to find.