AN: I know, I know…another story. Actually, I first got the idea for this story way back when Please Remember Me by aprilshowers0101was around its second or third chapter, but was then inspired to write Communication Via Owl. Some months ago…maybe last year…an element of the story popped up in one of Salemsoriginal99’s stories. I mentioned it to the author in a review, and she told me to “write it!” and I started writing some notes for the concept. Then I lost them, but the idea persisted and, well, here is the first chapter. I’ve written two thus far. It’s a silly concept, but I am rather pleased with this first chapter. This story is dedicated to the two authors mentioned above, as well as CoconutGirl (author of a brilliant memory trilogy) and Siriusly Amused (who wrote Dream On, I think the first memory story I read pairing Hermione/Ron).
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am not making any money off writing fan fiction based on the characters written by J.K. Rowling, nor the known people/companies mentioned in the story.
Chapter I: Who Am I?
The girl opened her eyes to the glaring sun light. It was late morning, but that was all that she could tell. She felt as though she had been asleep for a week at least.
Where am I?
She threw something out of her way, not noticing that she still kept her hand clasped on it. She slowly sat up from what appeared to be a park bench. Looking around she could not remember where she was. In fact, she couldn’t remember much of anything.
As she stood her legs wobbled a bit, and after carefully bracing herself on the top edge of the bench, she stood and stretched. Looking down at her own apparel, she could see that she was lucky it was summer. At least she assumed so, as it was already hot out, so it must be summer. A short sleeved red t-shirt, black jeans, and sneakers were all that she had.
She felt into her pockets. Nothing, no money, but tucked into her side was a long stick. She frowned. What was it doing there? It was smooth and she felt something important was happening as she touched it. Rather than throwing it away, she kept it and started to wander about, hoping she might remember something. As she did, she ran a hand through her hair. It felt thick, very thick, and full of snarls. She attempted to tame it and kept walking, hoping she would come across some water. She didn’t really care where that water came from; she felt dehydrated and needed to quench her thirst.
Hungry. She was also very hungry.
A few minutes later she came across an odd statue. It was of a dog…no, a wolf? She tried to read the plaque but her vision wasn’t ready for her to focus on the print quite yet. She looked about, realizing for the first time the number of people walking nearby. No one seemed interested in her, and she felt reluctant to ask anyone for help.
She felt something in her hand. It had been on her when she woke up. It was a newspaper. She looked at the date, which really meant nothing to her, and the location. New York City. She knew that name. It was a large city in America.
Hmm…America doesn’t seem all that familiar, but I do know of it…I think I’ve been here before, but I don’t think I live here, She thought to herself.
She heard a noise and looked to see where it came from. Not ten yards from her a couple and their small child had thrown something into the large garbage bin. Or rather, threw it on top as the bin was nearly overflowing with trash.
“We’ll find something you like later, sweetie,” The woman said to the small girl.
“I wanna hot dog!” Cried the young girl’s voice.
The mother rolled her eyes at her husband, who was grumbling about paying seven-fifty for the fries.
The lone woman waited until their attention was focused elsewhere, which was on the statue of the wolf-dog. They were taking pictures of it, letting their daughter climb on it.
“Say hello to Balto, sweetie,” The mother said to the little girl.
On top of the trash was a basket of hardly-eaten French fries. The woman knew them as “chips” but didn’t let that stop her from quickly taking the basket and hurrying over to the bushes to scarf them down.
As she ate she noticed again the newspaper still in her left hand. She laid it out to read more, slowly feeling better and more focused. She groaned when she realized it was only the classifieds, but then remembered she had no where to go, no money. She read the “job opportunities” and began mentally marking ones she could apply for in person.
An hour later the woman had drank nearly a gallon of water from a fountain and was now entering a public restroom. Luckily, there was a mirror, and she tried her best to make her appearance seem less frazzled. Luckily, she wasn’t too dirty, but her hair was another matter. She finally relented to washing it out in one of the sinks, not minding those who entered and stared at her, figuring she was just another homeless person. Luckily, one of these people also threw away a crude city map. Checking the streets she finally found one from an advertisement, and then quickly placed those she wanted to apply for a job.
Late that afternoon the woman went into the tenth place she had intended to apply for a job. The others had all shooed her away, especially once she told them she had no papers or identification. At least this one was in an office building, so she checked her appearance once again and hid her precious newspaper in the restroom.
She walked into the office, not knowing what to expect. The ad had only mentioned needing an assistant right away. It appeared to be a medical office but the waiting room was empty.
“Hello,” She called out.
A moment later an older man stepped out from behind a tall row of files. He was nearly bald, just a few patches of gray hair on the sides and, from what she could tell, the back. He wore a white uniform, she guessed he was the doctor.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” He spoke gently. “I thought all my appointments had gone for the evening.”
She smiled brightly. “I…I am here for the job.” She said in her eloquent, British accent.
“Oh! Wonderful! Do you have your resume?”
Her face fell. “I…I am afraid that I don’t,” She said hesitantly.
“Well, that’s alright, tell me about your qualifications.”
“I…I don’t know…” She stammered not for the first time that day.
“Oh, that’s right…the newspaper left out two lines of my ad…they’ve promised to run it again without charging me…” He suddenly took in her appearance. Having been a doctor for so many years, he couldn’t believe he’d missed it. She spoke so well, but he could tell she came right off of the streets.
He looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I need a medical assistant. A nurse, preferably, someone who knows patient records, who can greet patients and also assist me when needed.”
She smiled politely and then turned to leave.
“Wait! At least…at least tell me what has happened to you. Have you eaten today?”
She turned back at him and nodded. “I had some chips…er, fries earlier. Then a vendor gave me an apple.”
“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you.”
She shook her head, a tear falling down from one eye.
“Tell you what. I’ll order us some food. I have a shower in my private bathroom. You can clean up there, then wear one of the nurse uniforms I have. When the food arrives, you can tell me your story. By the way, my name is Dr. Lavoy.”
An hour and a half later the two were eating lasagna, salad, and bread together. She told him what little she knew, from having woken up with no memory of who she was, where she was, or how she had gotten there. He asked what else she knew. She shrugged, telling him little bits of what she knew of the world, like recognizing the city name and that its two towers had been attacked. Knowing about foods, plants, animals, other things about the world that had nothing to do with her own life. The life she couldn’t remember
As they were finishing, Dr. Lavoy smiled at the intelligent young woman. “You know, I can’t imagine I’ll hire someone right away, not with the requirements for the job.”
She quirked her brow, but waited for him to explain.
“You can work for me, in exchange I will let you stay her and buy you some clothes. And I’ll give you some money once you’re ready to find a place to live and have secured some documents for employments. I think you could probably do good with research, you can also help me with that. We can work on finding you employment after registering you as a Jane Doe. I don’t have any patients after two tomorrow, we can do it then.” He had already told her his specialty: dermatology.
She smiled gratefully, warming his heart. It felt good to help someone in her situation, and he could tell she was smart and trustworthy.
“Thank you! But…how can I stay here?”
“I have a nice, comfortable cot in the back and plenty of blankets. We can move the visiting room television in there, and I’ll tell security to not mind the lights being left on in here. You should be quite comfortable, and these leftovers will remain in my fridge in the back.”
Everything was going wonderfully, and the woman, now named Alessandra, had spent an entire work week helping Dr. Lavoy and living in the office suite. It had been tricky for him to explain things to his wife, but she understood and came to meet the young woman on Friday afternoon and liked her so much that she insisted they bring her home for the weekend.
Monday morning came, and the two arrived for work early. Alessandra was now staying in the guest house at the Dr. and his wife’s estate. The wife, Allison, worked at a local community college as an administrator and was determined to help Allesandra enroll once things were in order.
It was late morning when a man dressed in a sharp, dark-grey suite came into the office.
“Well, you’re new,” He said in a flamboyant way. “I’m here for my tennie, no, my appointment for eleven. Kors, Michael Kors.
AN: There you have it, the first chapter. Next two are written, and will likely post soon. Please let me know what you think. Coming up next: Ron in England and “Alessandra’s” new job.