Memories (Who Killed Markiplier-Detective)

Amnesia

   You had been staying with Abe for a few days now. You had gone to find Benjamin the other day but apparently he didn't work at the theater anymore. Abe busied himself trying to find him while you busied yourself with your own work. Abe had a room near the back of his apartment that he never used; a study. You had set it up for yourself with you books and a computer and a phone. Abe spent most of his time away, coming home late into the night and dragging himself to bed. He didn't much like you being out of the apartment without him so you stuck to your office with the door closed not wanting to be bothered. The whole thing had you a little flustered and you just wanted to be left alone for awhile. You barely spoke to Abe, except for at breakfast. In payment for his protection, you had decided you would make breakfast and coffee each morning for him. At first he just wanted you to relax and take it easy. You, however, wanted anything but. Staying still wasn't your forte. You preferred taking action. It was the DA in you.
     You never told Abe, but there was one time that you snuck out while he was away to visit the bookstore. He also had no idea that when the door was closed, you spent hours pouring over a stack of books all about amnesia. You wanted to know everything about what was afflicting you. What you mainly wanted was cures. You had detailed notes from most of the books. Your desk was littered with torn pages and open books and empty coffee cups and a half empty whisky bottle.
    That night, you were busy again with your research. Abe was out again digging up clues on Benjamin. You were exhausted but you kept reading. The lines blurred together and the pages seemed to double themselves. You head slid down the fist it leaned on and your head bobbed. Finally you gave a heavy sigh. Maybe just a little nap. You laid your head down and closed your eyes. The world fades away until it was only blackness and silence. Abe walked into the apartment about an hour later.
"(Y/N)! I think I found him!" He called as he hurried to your door, "Mind if I come in, sweet cheeks?"
   When he didn't get an answer he gave a little knock and the door pushed open. He raised an eyebrow. You always made sure your door was closed completely. With a hand on his gun, he entered the room. What he saw brought a soft smile to his face. Your head was resting on your arm which was dangling over the edge of the desk. Your hair was splayed across the oak and all your notes making a halo around your head. You seemed so peaceful and at ease. He simply walked over and bent down, giving your temple a quick peck. He was also the most affectionate and soft towards you when you didn't see him. After all, he had a reputation to keep up. When he rose up his eyes drifted to the stack of books by your head. His eyes scanned the title of the top book.
Dissociative Amnesia: The Repressed Memories
   He frowned sadly and looked back at you. He scanned your notes and the drawings you had of brains and numbers of neurosurgeons and psychologists. He gave a sigh and ruffled his hair. The last thing he wanted was to put anymore added stress on you. Judging from the coffee cups and the notes and the books, it was too late. One of your notes caught his eye, making him pick it up and read it with sad eyes.
    Abe Lincoln...the name is familiar. And not because of the president. I knew him...that's what he says. Maybe I did. I want to remember...I wish I could remember...it's in there somewhere. I know it is. Abe mentioned Mark's "murder." If that's the case it must have been traumatic for us. There's a chance my amnesia is onset because of it. It's most likely dissociative amnesia. The repressed memory one. I intend to find a cure for myself. I will remember my friend. I will remember.
   He gave a deep sigh and looked back at you. With careful movements, he pulled you into his arms. He left the room with you and headed for his room, where you had been sleeping since he only had one bedroom and, as such, one bed. He laid you carefully down and pulled the covers over you. He set the photo of him and you on the nightstand along with the note you had made. He scribbled a quick note next to the note before leaving the room. He collapsed on the couch and stared out the window. His mind ran at a hundred miles an hour. He remembered the manor clearly. He remember you clearly.
   That morning you had been wearing an attractive, purple, silk nightgown and a fluffy white robe when he discovered you. You seemed horrified as you stared down at Mark's body. He had never admitted it but he always felt bad about how he grabbed you and interrogated you immediately. He also kinda felt bad about scaring you before making you his partner, especially when he saw the way your eyes widened in horror. The next time he saw you, you had changed into a fresh outfit. A beautiful white dress that came to your mid-calfs and flats. Your hair was done up in a a braid that wrapped around your head like a crown. No, a halo. He would've sworn then and there you were an angel. And you were. He had never met someone so sweet and helpful. Never had he met someone so intent on doing the right thing. Your spirit was unmatched. He'd never forget that day.
   He would never forget the way you fell, an angel falling from grace. He would never forget the way red soaked that beautiful white fabric. He would never forget the way the Colonel reached out to try and catch you, crying out in a brittle voice about it being an accident. He would never forget hearing the sound of your body hit the floor as he passed out from his own wound.
    He would get no sleep that night. The image of your pain-filled face after you got shot was etched in his mind forever. The way you had attacked the Colonel after he shot him was forever in his mind. You cared so much for him back then. Enough to risk your life to take down the man who hurt him. Not only risk your life, but die. Or at least, that's what he had thought at the time. He couldn't remember ever being as happy as he was when he burst into your office and saw you. At the same time, he had never felt more heartbreak than when you said you didn't remember him.

   He didn't know how much time had passed. He finally stopped thinking when the sun broke through the horizon of skyscrapers. He dug his rough hands across his face and rolled his neck, hearing it pop a few times. He stood and moved to the bedroom, peering inside through a crack. He could see your hair had been messed up and tangled and one of your arms dangled off the edge of the bed. Your eyes were closed and your face held a look of utter tranquility. His face softened at the sight of you. He wouldn't dare wake you up. He didn't want to disturb that look. So, he closed the door and moved to the kitchen. He stared at the neat countertops, something that had been arranged by you. He'd made breakfast before. Albeit a long time ago. How hard could it really be?

   The answer is very hard. You shot up in bed when the fire alarm began blaring, your eyes wide with alarm. You tossed the covers off, barely registering that this wasn't the place you fell asleep. You threw open the door and waved your hands as you coughed. The smoke seemed thick and as the alarm was killed, you started opening windows. You stumbled your way to the kitchen where you found Abe fiddling with the alarm, tossing batteries on the counter.
"The hell happened here?" Your voice startled him. He hid the alarm behind his back like a small child preparing for his mother's scolding.
"I tried to make breakfast..." he confessed, making you sigh.
"I thought the agreement was I would make breakfast!" Your fists found resting spots on your hips. He seemed to shrink back a little.
"But you looked so peaceful asleep. I didn't wanna wake you up." He tried. Your face softened and your shoulders relaxed. It was kinda cute, if you were honest, how he just wanted you to have a peaceful sleep. You gave a resigned sigh.
"Thank you, Abe. But next time wake me up. I don't want you to burn down the building." You warned him as you moved to try and salvage what was left.
   He tossed the alarm onto the counter and glanced at the door to the bedroom. While you busied yourself with the kitchen, he slipped back into the room. He grabbed the paper on the bedside table and reread the note he had left. He quickly crumbled it and dropped it into his coat pocket before returning to the kitchen. You had managed to salvage some of the breakfast, but the bacon was totally shot. You gave him what you could and both of you sat at the table. You watched him for a moment before sighing and looking down.
"I fell asleep in the study. Unless I randomly developed a habit of sleepwalking, someone put me in the bed." Your eyes glanced up at him. He paused for a second to look at you.
"Yeah...I...I didn't think oak was a very comfy pillow." He shrugged, almost shyly. You have a faint smile.
"Well, thank you, Abe..." your voice was softer, making him smile.
"Oh! That reminds me, I think I found that Benjamin guy. I was gonna tell you last night but I found you asleep so..." Abe shrugged nonchalantly. You sat up with surprised eyes.
"You did? Where is he?" You questioned.
"The next town over. He got a job as some businessman's assistant." Abe replied as he lifted a glass of water to his mouth.
"Perfect. I'll get ready and we can head over!" Your face seemed to brighten considerably as you moved back to the bedroom. Abe watched you and sighed, crumbling the note more in his pocket. He looked down at his half finished plate and sighed, listening to the sound of you riffling through your clothes. This would be a long trip.