Remember Me - (A Jimmy Fallon Fanfiction)

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Jimmy's POV:
I start shouting for anyone to come and help. No one comes and I don't know if I should take her to the hospital. I pick her up bridal style and I go upstairs as quickly as possible. I bang on the door of our dressing room, where everyone is, with my foot. Tracy opens the door, "what the hell," he says looking at her. Tears start pouring out of my eyes. "What happened," Will asks concerned, standing up and everyone is looking at me and her. I quickly explain while tears continue to fall from my eyes, "I went to check on her and her ex, the guy who tried to shoot us, was trying to rape her. I pulled him off of her and beat the shit out of him. She was weakened by all of the things she did with her powers today so she couldn't get him off of her. She then took a minute to strengthen her powers so she could rid of him from everywhere and make him no longer exist. After she rid of him she couldn't keep her balance and she turned white as a ghost. Her nose started bleeding and she passed out and I don't known if I should take her to the hospital. What if they don't know how to help her? What if they can tell she's different and they run a bunch of tests on her and just make her worse? What if," Molly cuts me off, "She has to go to the hospital. You need to calm down Jimmy." I take a deep breath and I suddenly remember her mentioning a doctor she can trust. I gently set her down on the floor and I go through her purse. I find a card for a Dr. Jones. I dial the number. Ring . . . Ring . . . Ring . . A man with a deep voice answers the phone, "Hello, this is Dr. Jones. How may I help you." I'm not sure what to say, "I, I um, Hi my name is Jimmy Fallon and um, do you know a Heather Rose." There's a brief moment of silence. He speaks quietly, "How do you have this number?"

Me: I'm her boyfriend and I know all about her.

Dr. Jones: Why are you calling? Is she alright?

Me: Something's wrong and I remember her mentioning something about you and I don't want to take her to a hospital. I'm afraid of what they might do to her.

Dr. Jones: Don't take her to the hospital, ever. Bring her to me I'm at . . .

He then proceeds to tells me where he is. "We have to take her to a guy named Dr. Jones." I pick her up again, "you're going to be okay, I promise. We are going to get you help," I whisper to her limp body. More tears roll out of my eyes as I'm waiting for the elevator to reach the bottom floor. Will pats me on the shoulder, "she's going to be okay." I shake my head no, "I don't even know if we can trust this guy but he's the only hope I have of her getting better." The doors open, we hail enough cabs for everyone to tag along, and we head over to where Dr. Jones is. I hold her in my arms as I await to arrive at Dr. Jones's place. I check her pulse and it's slower than usual. "Please step on it," I say to the driver on the verge of hysteria. "Is she alright?," he asks. "Hopefully she will be," I say and a few more tears roll down my face. I choke down my tears. I have to be strong for her. We arrive there in about 10 minutes. I pick her up and carry her to the door. Just as I'm knocking the others show up. A very tall, thin man, with blonde hair and green eyes answers the door. "Are they with you?," he asks motioning to the others. I nod yes. He sticks his head out the door and examines the street and sidewalk. What is he doing? He then motions for us to come in, "quickly, quickly," he tells us as we are entering. We get in and he shuts and locks three dead bolts on the door. All of the windows have blinds and curtains over them. He leads us to a dimly lit living room. "Why did you rush us in here and why do you have three locks on your door and why are your windows so heavily covered?," I ask sternly. "Please have a seat, you can lay her down there," he says motioning to a fairly long couch. I lay her down and I sit down by her head. I move her hair away from her face and I stroke her face lightly. She's so still and limp. How long can she safely be in this state? "How old are you?," I ask questioning his capabilities. "I'm 25," he says, "but my father taught me everything he knew. You see, he died about a year ago and he wanted me to be able to care for her and her special abilities. Now to answer your previous questions, the government watched my dad for years trying to get ahold of her and her files. They want to use her in the war and to do things such as brain wash everyone to do as they say. I haven't seen signs that they are watching us for a couple years and it's probably due to the fact that she stopped coming here 12 years ago. She needed to come here though. Her mom was suppose to bring her hear every month so we could do what we need to but unfortunately she didn't." I think for a moment. "12 years ago her mom died in a car crash and Heather couldn't save her because there were cameras all around," I tell him and I can feel myself wanting to cry at the thought of her pain when she wasn't able to help her mom when she knew she could. I choke down the tears I have to be strong for her. "Why did she stop coming to you," I ask him. "she always thought that she didn't need us. She's so strong headed. She doesn't want to be pittied, she doesn't want anyones help. She wants to do everything on her own. I'm sure you know this being her boyfriend and all," he says. "What is it that you do do to help her? Will she be okay?," I ask feeling myself get emotional again. "I honestly don't know if she'll be okay. I have to give her a very special serum that can reverse and prevent the rotting of her brain. All we can do is hope," he tells me. "Wait what?," I say letting every thought of mine be said, "her brain is fucking rotting?! But, its not like she ever got stupid. For Christ sake she just did a performance not 3 hours ago." "That's not how it works," he tells us, "it affects her powers. They actually become stronger because of the rotting process. The brain that isn't used for her powers slowly rot and the parts that are used for her powers take over everything else until the only part of her that is left is her powers. If you've noticed her not being herself it's because her powers are taking over. Her powers will make her emotionless." "I have noticed her being different but I thought it was just her struggling with her horrible past," I say on the verge of tears. He pulls out three shots and he puts them into her arm. "I upped the dose because she's never gone this long without it," he tells us, "now all we can do is wait. So, you mentioned something about her having a bad past." I nod my head yes.