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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.

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.

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.

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?”

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?”

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?”

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.