Memories (Who Killed Markiplier-Detective)

Partners?

Yo~ I had a friend who encouraged me to write this so I guess dedication to her? Yee VicVivid (☝︎ ՞ਊ ՞)☝︎
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     You had honestly never payed much thought to the fact you couldn't remember anything after waking up in a hospital six months ago. From what you had found out, you were the city's district attorney and you had a friend, Mark he had said his name was. He explained your a coma but nothing more. To celebrate your awakening, he had taken you on a date. That date, however, was terrifyingly interrupted by a man who looked like Mark, only much more sinister. You had ended up shooting him, and you never really got over it. No matter, you shook your head, there's work to do. You reached across your desk to grab your pen again. You had cases that needed to be processed, people to defend. Nothing else mattered to you when you were sat in your little office. You barely noticed the phone when it went off. You absentmindedly picked it up, sandwiching it between your shoulder and ear.
"(f/n) (l/n), district attorney." You answered habitually.
"Miss (l/n)? There's a man here saying he needs to see you. He said his name is Abe Lincoln?" Your secretary spoke into the phone, sounding a tad unnerved. You stopped writing, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
"Doesn't sound familiar. Are you sure it's for me?" You questioned.
"Yes, ma'am. He's a detective. He says you're his- oh! Wait, sir! Please don't-! Oh, dear! I'm so sorry, ma'am! He just went inside. He seems pretty adamant to see you..." Your secretary squeaked into the phone. You looked up at the door, staring through the frosted glass.
"It's okay, Mrs. Tawny. Really. Don't worry about-" you stopped talking when the door flew open, "I have to go."
You gently set the phone down and stood slowly. You came to the side of your desk. The man was taller than you with a beard and one of those hats you would expect Sherlock Holmes to wear and a trench coat over a disheveled suit. He stared at you, brown eyes swimming with disbelief and hope. Before you could open your mouth, he shot towards you. His arms tightened around you in a hug, squeezing the life out of you.
"Oh, god...I thought I lost you...I can't believe you're here right now..." His voice was brittle and his grip on you relaxed. Your eyebrows knotted together in confusion. When you didn't return the hug he pulled back, holding onto your shoulders at arms length.
"Lost me?" Was all you could manage. He nodded, his own face confused.
"Yeah! How could I not, partner? I woke up in that manor and you were just gone. Called an ambulance and even asked the doctors if they had you come in but...you hadn't. God, I was scared. I finally worked up the courage to come and ask if you were here and look at that, you magnificent son of a bitch, you're alive and working! Why did you call me?" His face brightened up again. You shook your head slowly.
"I'm sorry..." you managed, "but who are you?"
His smile turned confused but he didn't let you go.
"It's me. Abe. We're partners. The detective. Of course you remember. Stop fucking with me, (y/n)." He choked out. You shook your head.
"I'm sorry. I don't know who you are. You must be mistaken. I'm a district attorney. Not a detective." You stepped back, forcing him to drop his arms slowly. His eyes now swam with confusion and fear.
"Wh...what do you mean? Of course you know me...we...we worked Mark's murder together...in his mansion." He tried through his disbelief. Now you were even more confused.
"Mark is alive. I saw him yesterday. He has no mansion." You inched closer to your phone. He blinked, even more confused.
"N...no? He was murdered...we saw the body...I...it...we..." He was stumbling now, unable to grasp the situation. Did you really not remember him?
"Detective, I don't know you. You must have me mistaken for someone else. Please...leave." You asked calmly. He looked at you in shock.
"Wh...n-no...please, (y/n)...we're partners. You're the only one I can still get back. The one that didn't die...I can't lose you..." His voice was shaky. You paused. You felt sorry for him. His face screamed with fear and loneliness. You wondered if maybe you really did know this man.
"I...don't know what you're talking about...if it's any consolation, I...woke up six months ago in the hospital. I had amnesia. I don't remember anything prior." You managed to explain through a fight throat. You didn't know if the information helped him or made it worse. He lowered himself into one of the chairs and tugged off his hat. He ran a hand through his short hair.
"I'm telling you. You know me. You have to believe me, partner. I still remember. I remember through my haze after getting shit watching the Colonel shoot you. You fell over the railing. When I woke up, I couldn't find you. You lived. You're the only partner I've had to do that. And I'm not about to give up on you! Remember, damnit!" He eventually jumped to his feet. You winced back and he stopped, eyes wide.
"I think you need to calm down..." you managed with an even voice. He nodded slowly and took a step back.
"I'm sorry...," he sighed roughly, "Look, just answer this. Have you had any contact with a shifty looking bastard? Probably wears black. Messed up hair. Probably makes you feel like reality is distorted."
You stared at him for a long moment before answering.
"Yes...two months ago. Mark took me on a date to celebrate me waking up and returning to work. This guy showed up. A sinister version of Mark, I guess. And I...," your voice caught in your throat. He was staring at you with newfound worry.
"You what?" He pressed.
"I shot him. He's no longer any sort of threat." You raised your chin. He blinked at you, not exactly expecting that kind of an answer. Still, he rubbed his face.
"Look. That guy is a shifty bastard. He likes to bend reality. You shot him. Yeah, big whoop. But he ain't dead. And he's probably pissed at you. And Mark? I trust him about as far as I can throw him." He set his hands on his hips and stared you down. You scrunched your nose.
"The hell are you trying to say?" You questioned.
"I'm saying, you're not safe. I'm saying I was to protect you. Until it settles down or you get your memory back. Please..." he sighed. His face wasn't hard anymore but soft and pleading. You blinked, watching him carefully.
"I can take care of myself." You managed.
"Yeah, you proved that after I watched you fall over a banister." He scoffed, tossing his hat onto your desk. Your cheeks puffed out.
"Now, hold on! Don't you dare use something I don't remember against me!" You pointed at him. You didn't really understand why he started laughing.
"Man...you did that a lot back at the manor. Someone would fuck with you and your cheeks would puff out and you'd point a perfectly manicured finger at them like you were hot shit." He chuckled affectionately. You stared at him before sighing and sitting in your chair. It was quiet between you two for the longest time.
"Look...this is a lot for me to process. Could you...could you leave? For today? Leave your phone number. I'll think over your offer. If I decide I want you to help me, I'll call you. If you don't hear from me...then assume I don't need help." You eventually broke the silence. He gave you a frown but begrudgingly pulled a scrap of paper off a stray notebook. He took your pen and scribbled a strand of numbers down.
"Fine. But if for any reason you feel unsafe, you call me. I'll see you around, you gorgeous bastard." He tossed his hand up to say goodbye as he headed out your door, taking heavy footsteps to show his disapproval.
   You sighed but looked at the set of numbers. He had seemed so adamant about seeing you. You sank into your chair as the ticking of the clock filled the room. You couldn't focus anymore on your work so you packed your briefcase and nabbed the number. You left the office, waving goodbye to Mrs. Tawny as you did so. Usually you liked walking home, it was a nice way to get your daily exercise without getting all sweaty. Today, however, you felt like doing anything but walking. You hailed a cab and told him your address. For some reason, you set your briefcase down but kept Abe's number tightly in your hand. Something about him seemed familiar but you didn't know what. Maybe it was just his words getting to you. You shook your head and handed over the money before leaving the cab and heading to your apartment.
   You dropped your stuff and kicked off your heels. You turned on your favorite music and swayed around your house. You didn't like making big meals since it was just you so dinner was fairly small. The shower you took was warm and you could feel your muscles unwind. You chose your fluffiest pajamas to settle on the couch. You flicked on the tv but it was really just for background noise. You pulled you laptop onto your knees and searched 'Mark Fichbach manor' into the search bar. All you found was that a manor that belonged to your friend had been sold. Apparently there were deaths in the house, even the owner, Mark Iplier. The former Mayor and a family friend of Mark's both died in the house as well.
   You pushed your laptop away with furrowed eyebrows. You looked at your phone and considered confronting Mark for a moment. It wasn't until your computer screen started to glitch and contort until it listed nothing but stories about Damien, the mayor's, murder and the mansion. Even a story about Abe was displayed. The top story, however, was about a man hellbent on revenge against Mark. You stared for a moment, shocked and scared, before slamming the laptop closed.
    You fell asleep on the couch that night. You had curled up with a blanket, your phone in your hand. You had fallen asleep debating on if you should call Abe, his number still typed in the keypad when you opened it. You heaved a sigh and looked at you laptop. Out of fear, you closed it and placed it on the other side of the room. You looked back at your phone. The number stared back at you but you just shook your head. Last night had to have been a figment of your imagination, right? Just sleep deprivation getting to you. You hadn't exactly slept right since you shot that Dark Mark.
   You hauled yourself to your feet and struggled through your morning routine. You tied your hair back tightly and made yourself look presentable. You put on one of your favorite work outfits, a pinstripe blazer with a white blouse and a pinstripe skirt over dark pantyhose and black heels. You poured your coffee and packed up your briefcase. You grabbed your charger and phone and headed out the door. Today you felt refreshed so you walked to work. It was too far, which is why you usually walked. You had apparently purposefully moved close by when you got the job. Apparently because you honestly didn't remember moving into the house. Mark told you that was where you lived so you believed him. Speaking of Mark, the thought popped up, could you really trust him? After all, apparently he owned a murder manor that he didn't bother telling you about and knew more about your past than he let on.
    You suppose that was why you ignored him when his name popped up on your phone with a good morning text. He had been very active in your life since you woke up and you always thought he was so nice. Now, however, you wondered if it was for a different reason. You tossed your stuff onto your desk and sat down. You switched on your computer and immediately went to your emails. You couldn't tell if you were surprised or if you expected it when you noticed an email from someone named Abe Lincoln. He had a spill begging you to reconsider and call him immediately. It had a file attached to it. Your curiosity got the better of you and you clicked it. At first you thought it was a stupid selfie of Abe. When you looked closer, you noticed the man in he background, waiting for his cab to stop. He was dressed in a disheveled suit with messy hair that fell in his face and dark circles. You knew that man and Abe was right. He looked pissed. You put your hands on the side of your head to hold it up. Thoughts raced through your head but the main one was simply, I'm going to die. You shook your head.
"No...no, I'll be fine..." You managed as you grabbed your phone with a shaky hand. Thankfully it still had the number ready to call. You pressed dial and held it to your ear, trying to keep yourself calm and steady.
"Hello?" Abe's voice questioned. You took in a quiet but deep breath.
"Detective Lincoln, after reading your email I think I'd like to accept your offer." Your voice was loyal to you and stayed steady.
"I can be over in ten minutes. Lock your door." He ordered before the line went dead. You set the phone down gently, staring at the man in the picture. You looked down at your recent phone calls and saw Mark's name. Your thumb hovered over his name and your jaw tightened.