Blast from the Past (pt 1)

[Archer Keating]

(2:32:36 PM) Archer Keating
The pub sat on a side street tucked away from the hustle and bustle of anything considered main stream. The building was one of those short buildings that were only eight stories high tucked in between much taller buildings. It was red brick and pretty average in looks. It certainly wasn't a new building. The community around it was not new either. It was old and one of those neighborhoods that had seen families live, die and continue on in the new generations that followed. Paddy Murphy, the grandson of the first owner, repurchased the place after a brief stint of the pub being out of the family's hands. Paddy has been working to get the pub back to where it used to be in the hay-day and he was almost there. The 'updates' that were added by the previous owner were undone and the former glory restored inside. The original sign was taken out of storage, repainted and hung above the door. Paddy got a good cook who knew real Irish comfort food and hired a good staff. That's where Archer came in. The young bartender was hired six months ago when looking for something to supplement his other job. Tips weren't great to start but they got better. Now it's even par with his other job and sometimes he contemplated quitting but he loved the mechanical work too much to ditch it.

On this particular night, the regulars had filtered out except for those die-hards who stayed up half the night. There was a pool table in back and a dart board. The bar was a J shaped affair with booths that ran the length of the opposite wall. There wasn't an over abundance of floor space, but who needed it? Friends didn't mind rubbing elbows with friends. Archer had been behind the bar for several hours. It had been a very good night. He restocked the glasses and made sure those regulars had what they needed. Then it was busy work. Wiping down the bar, washing the taps and making sure that everything sparkled.



(2:45:08 PM) Rex Evans
If you weren't Rex, that is. Sometimes, rubbing elbows with people was more than enough to put his paranoia to the test; the last girl - girl - that had bumped into him, had wound up hard up against a brick wall with a gun beneath her chin. That's what happened when you took someone's memory of what was, and wasn't, away from them.. they became some paranoid loose cannon who'd shoot first, and ask questions later.

The insomnia was hell, after those dreams; the ones that would leave him lying in a cold sweat, panting for breath, as if he'd only just completed a five mile run.. and given other people's schedules, there wasn't much in the way of companionship when such events occurred. No, it was quite simple; the former sleeper got up, got re-dressed, and headed out into the cooler night's air just to breathe. To think, to try to wrap his mind around whatever had just transpired subconsciously-- though, it was typically futile.

Pushing the sleeves up to the uneventful, too-white hoodie, he shoved his hands into the center pocket long enough to pull out the infamous pack of Camel wides; he wasn't sure where the preference came from, but nor did he care once he had it lit, and the nicotine was flooding into his system. The door to the out-of-the-way bar was nudged open by means of his shoulder and he did a quick turn just he'd be well out of the way by the time it swung closed, and - despite it most likely (as most were, now) being a non-smoking environment, Rex was headed straight for the bar, not even once eying the die-hard stragglers that remained in the pub. When he dropped onto the stool, it was a soundly sort of thing; heavily, annoyed (to say the least), and when he hunched forward, it was only one elbow that rested on the counter before the raised hand was used to pluck the cigarette from his mouth. The forming snake of ash was tapped into his opposing hand, and then smeared down the pant leg of his jeans.



(2:55:47 PM) Archer Keating
The door opening at this hour was not uncommon. They were open until the wee hours of the morning most nights. Archer's eyes went to the sound and the towel he'd been using was tossed over his shoulder. He was wearing a dark shirt and black jeans, blond hair a bit tousled after a long night of working. Archer wasn't even close to being tired. When one of the regulars decided to head out, he lifted a hand to wave. "See you later, Keys." He then got two glasses of water and headed for the new guy. He wondered if the smoker had been there before. There was a sense of familiarity about him but Archer couldn't initially place it. Each glass was sat in front of him, both on little bar napkins and his smile was a little crooked but with a dimple in one cheek. "What can I get for you?" He pointedly looked from the cigarette to one of the glasses with an unspoken, dunk it, in his eyes.



(3:02:30 PM) Rex Evans
It could have came off as eerie; the paleness that had taken over his features, the dark rings of sleep deprivation around his eyes that were otherwise intense. The color of amber and nearly harsh when he looked anywhere, or at anyone, because it'd been that way for so long. Every given thing was under scrutiny.

When the two glasses were set in front of him, he glanced up at the dimpled tender with an incredulous sort of look and took one, last, long, drag from it before unceremoniously dropping the remnant of the cigarette into the left-side glass of water. Of course, that left his hand idle which soon just dropped heavily to the counter top with a dull thud. "Scotch. No ice."

Dunk his cigarette. It was unusual he'd ever do such a thing. But in such a defeated frame of mind, he'd play puppet-- at least, until he woke up a bit more.



(3:08:44 PM) Archer Keating
The cigarette grave was removed from the bar top with a quick swipe of a well practiced hand and sat out of sight. A brief deepening of the smile was the thank you, again no words spoken. Archer turned to reach for the scotch, regular label at the moment with no up-sell offered. A clean rocks glass found its way to the bar top on yet another dry napkin. Archer poured out malted liquor then gently pushed it closer to the guy. The bottle got put back where it had stood on the back bar. Archer glanced again at the guy. "Anything else right now?" He studied him while he waited for the answer. When you take someone out of their normal context, sometimes it's hard to recognize them. This guy with his pale skin and sunken eyes was not someone that Archer remembered. He was still chewing on it mentally though because there was a sense of familiarity about him that Archer didn't get from other people. He glanced down and picked up one of the little bowls that sat behind the bar. Archer dumped a few peanuts in the bowl and then sat the bowl by the scotch.



(3:15:57 PM) Rex Evans
Rex shifted, then, when the cigarette-tainted water glass was removed, and even went as far as to right himself for just a moment; long enough to shrug off the battered leather jacket he'd just recently reclaimed from his friend's stash of his things, just so it could be flung out onto an adjacent stool. God forbid he reach for another cigarette by pure muscle memory..

His attention was captured again with the pushing of the glass towards him, and he was quick to take it up with a steady (surprisingly so) hand. "Not right now, nah." But what he didn't admit was, that it'd only take a moment or two before that very same glass was needing to be filled again.

His free hand moved, but only to scratch at the royal crown tattoo on the side of his neck before delving up into his hair almost angrily. It was getting old: the nightly outings just to get himself drunk to the point of passing out-- and hell, it didn't even matter where, to him. So long as he slept without the dreams flashing up on the backs of his eyelids.

The peanuts, though. He gestured to them right before taking a nice, hefty, gulp from the glass. "Y'know what those're good for?" Oh, lord. Another sip, and he settled the glass back on the small napkin while awaiting an answer.



(3:22:43 PM) Archer Keating
"No problem. I'm Archer if you need anything." That came with the normal grin that showed his dimple even through the scruff that he had. It wasn't until just a year or so ago that he'd managed to be able to grow a beard and Archer loved it. It took away some of that baby out of his face. If he shaved, sometimes he looked 14 and that just wasn't cool. Blue eyes followed the scratch at the guys neck and for another moment, those blue eyes went half closed as if dredging up a memory and then examining it closely. His gaze went back to the guys face and for a second he didn't react to the question. A blink later he shook his head and lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. "I suspect anything I think of will not be what you're thinking of. Tell me."

Meanwhile, inside his head the wheels were turning. Could it be? But that was years ago. He was dead .. or wasn't that what he'd heard? Everyone had a twin they said but right down to the tattoo? That was just creepy.



(3:30:37 PM) Rex Evans
He could have followed suit and introduced himself, but that was where things got tricky. It was always a mental debate to which name to use, especially when it came to new places and new people-- it wasn't a problem at all when it came to the one person he remembered, the detective, who'd known him as Rex. But.. he was neither him, nor the other person now.

"Prob'ly right," he stated, matter-of-factly. Not many operated on the same brainwaves he possessed-- sarcastic, or otherwise. And more often than not, he wound up outright pissing people off with the wit and damnable grins that were.. infuriatingly charming. When he wanted them to be.

He let it drag out for a moment, then reached forward to pluck up one of the single shelled nuts, even twisted it between his fingers a few times while that harsh stare of his was locked on Archer. "This." And with just the flick of his wrist, the oblong ground-nut was shot at the tender with a near-grin before he dipped his head forward and swiped up his glass again.

Dead, not dead, and then dead again-- figuratively speaking. No one name to go buy, no way to reclaim his former life that he only remembered in flashes.. and the same with the most recent. "M'Rex. Guess it's nice t'meet'cha." The words were graveled, almost rough, but had nothing to do with ill-will. It was just the way he talked.. maybe due to a bad, chain-smoking habit that didn't seem to be going away any time soon.



(3:40:54 PM) Archer Keating
No reaction to the name and for a second or two Archer was really disappointed. He'd hoped there for a minute that the face was attached to his brother's friend. It was a big city and real friends were hard to come by. Archer was probably hoping too much that this guy was Chase just because it would be nice to have a friendly face around. If anything was visible on his face, it was only brief before he was smiling again and target practice for the nut. He didn't dodge the peanut missile. It caught him between the eyes then bounced away. He caught it on the rebound and shook his head with a chuckle. "Yes, that's one of the more popular uses." He dropped the peanut into the garbage and shot the guy another look. So his name was Rex. It was still hard to shake the feeling of familiarity. "Nice to meet you, Rex. Let me know when you want a fill up, ok?" He winked and then headed off to cash out another regular who had decided it was time to head out. Archer tucked the tip into his tip jar and then cleaned up the bar where the guy had been sitting.

There were only a couple more guys in the bar. Paddy had gone home a while ago and Cookie, whatever the hell the guys name really was, was somewhere in the kitchen or freezer doing inventory. He'd probably be done soon and head out as well. The bar would be closing in a couple of hours or so. Not that anyone would get kicked out. That just meant no more drinks could be served.

Archer couldn't help looking back at Rex. It was just really uncanny now that he was really studying the guy. Even with the pale skin and sleep-deprived eyes, Archer couldn't get over how much he looked like Chase.



(3:52:46 PM) Rex Evans
Who knew why he'd felt the need to flick the peanut at the poor tender. It could have been the subconscious familiar instinct to do so, even if he wouldn't have recognized it if it jumped up and bit him in the ass. Not only that, but he mistook such things for his mind just being all over the place.

"Y'mean someone else is throwin' fuckin' peanuts at'cha?" As if that were some sort of reason to be condemned, even if soon after he'd questioned, Rex smirked. "A'right," he said, and tipped the glass up for another pretty decent sized swallow of the alcohol that damn near matched his eyes.

While Archer headed off to cash out the other regular, Rex seemed to settle furthermore on the stool, either heel of the steel toed boots he wore were brought up onto the bottom rungs and he leaned forward so he was all but propped up on the counter by his elbows. Closing time; it was something he hated, really, considering the supply of alcohol would halt then-- but it was something he'd come to realize, given his uncanny knack to be out and about at such times.

Polishing off that first glass was a breeze, and once it was empty, he nudged it closer towards the other side of the bar. It would have been typical of him to snap and point, but.. he really wasn't going for making some bad impression at a new (in his book, anyway) bar. "'ey, Archer, when y'get a chance.." he trailed, gesturing with a jerk of his eyes down towards the tumbler. At least, he was waking up a little-- even if it was the opposite effect he had intended. Maybe it had something to do with the atmosphere; the type of bars he frequented were usually loud and boring to him. ... This one, though? Seemed fairly decent. It threw him off guard.



(4:01:29 PM) Archer Keating
"It used to happen a lot more, not so much anymore." That was the quick answer tossed back as he headed off to handle the cash out. Not so much anymore. Yeah. That's because Chase well, was gone. His brother did it too, probably where Chase picked it up from. But that was gone too now. It sucked really. He cleaned up the bar after the guy and then wandered back down to where Rex sat. "Sure." He got the bottle and broke every rule in the book by simply holding it over the glass already used to count out a new pour of the malted drink. He didn't over pour although the urge was there. The amber liquid began to settle as he slid the glass back to Rex. "Cook will be leaving soon. You sure you don't want food or something? And don't ask for more peanuts. I think I'm going to cut you off." It was a good natured jab at the way Rex had already used a peanut as entertainment lobbing it at Archer's forehead.

Another of the regulars headed out. He had a tab that was charged to his card each night so he didn't stop to cash out before wandering out the door. Archer exchanged waves with the older guy though. He knew the man was actually Paddy's uncle and often sat in the bar for hours at a time. People often visited that table and Archer sometimes swore he saw money changing hands. He wasn't going to get involved though. If it was business, it was under the table and Archer didn't want any part of it. He'd heard too many rumors about the Irish mob and he didn't want to test the theory.

He nodded at the scotch and added, "Or are you on a liquid diet?"



(4:08:40 PM) Rex Evans
It probably was where he'd gotten it, even if the memory didn't bumrush him and give him some sort of pinging headache as they had the knack to do. Until he remembered, it'd just be an urge he'd fullfilled. And don't think for a second that, that first peanut he'd flicked at Archer's forehead would be the last before the night was up.

When it was mentioned that the cook was leaing soon, he only shrugged his shoulder and took the glass that was slid back. "Nah.. pretty much bein' force-fed pizza 'n other shit durin' th'day by this reporter who's decided t'fuckin' adopt me as family, or somethin'.." Not that the feeling wasn't mutual or anything, but god, being made to eat.. when he didn't want to? Harsh. "Got plenty of ammo right there," he said, gesturing with the same hand that held the glass, to the bowl of peanuts.

He watched the next customer wander out, and winced inwardly. Was it that close to closing time? The thought was cut short at the tender's next question which drew another smirk out of him. "Only at night."

He paused, though, before elaborating. He'd heard of the whole bartender psychologist ordeal and.. didn't want to partake in it, consciously or otherwise. "...Wh'time're you closin' up? Might hafta conince you t'load me up with'a bottle or two b'fore y'do.." And while it was said kiddingly, Rex was serious.



(4:16:16 PM) Archer Keating
"A reporter huh? That sounds dangerous." He was teasing though. Maybe only a little. Archer didn't like the news and never read the paper. He chuckled at the mention of ammo and pretended to reach for the bowl to move it out of the way. He didn't though. It stayed right where it was. Maybe that little peanut shot was a good memory for the jersey boy turned new yorker man.

Only at night. That said a lot more than maybe Rex meant to say. Archer wasn't that much of a bartender psychologist yet but the words 'only at night' did say a lot. Meant there was a reason at night he drank. Archer dragged a thumb along his chin while studying Rex. The next question was first answered with a smile. "You got 45 minutes yet. Then the liquor stops." He didn't mention anything about kicking Rex out though. That wasn't the way of this particular bar. You could stay all night if the bartender chose to hang out with you but he couldn't sell after the legal closing time. "I could probably sell you a couple of bottles before then if you need it." They had the license for it but the bottles had to be sealed on the way out. No taking an open bottle out the door, no sir.

"So, you new to the area or just decided to wander in for the hell of it?" It was late and without too much to do, a conversation might make the night go quicker.



(4:24:50 PM) Rex Evans
"This one ain't so bad," he admitted. It was inevitable, though; even if he himself hated the news, and reading newspapers, he had to in order to keep a step ahead, if he didn't prefer to go out and chase the agents down himself-- which, he wanted to do, but.. again.. was forced not to. "She was th'first t'help me out 'bout'a month ago." Cryptic. It came naturally.

He did, however, watch the way Archer went to move the bowl, but didn't-- and of course, that was an open fucking invitation as ever to pick up another and launch at at him before his eyes lowered to the glass, and he finally brought it up for another long drink.

"45 minutes.." he repeated, tilting his head off to the side slightly, as if in thought. It was pushing it, but it could have been done-- had he not wanted to walk his ass back to the rinky-dink apartment he was borrowing from his detective friend. "Yeah, that might work.." he trailed, when Archer mentioned probably being able to sell a couple of bottles. It was a toss-up though; Rex had quite a tolerance.. and fourty-five minutes was really pushing the whole getting shit-faced factor.

Another drink, and he glanced over to his jacket before shaking his head. That was the only problem with bars-- the whole no smoking nonsense they'd put in place. The way he saw it; if someone didn't like his smoke, they could go breathe somewhere else.

"Nah, been here for'a while. Jus' figured I'd try somewhere new.. y'know? Same ol' fuckin' beat-down bars get old." Using the nail of his thumb, he scratched at his jaw absently, then let his hand drop. "Don't guess I could make y'keep th'bar open all night, huh.." he trailed, with a grin.



(4:33:17 PM) Archer Keating
He listened with an ear that was not necessarily all bartender. Rex still had his attention because of how much he looked like Chase. "You needed helping?" He was prompting for more details, not making a joke. He laughed when the peanut came sailing. This time he dodged and caught it, popping it into his mouth, snapping his teeth at Rex in a playful way before leaning back against the back bar.

"Yeah, 45 minutes." He rested his hands on either side of his rear, the back bar taking his weight with ease considering the sturdy construction of the all oak backbar. Hell, the main bar was the same dark wood, old and polished and solid steady. He watched the decision making process; a chuckle whispering from between slightly parted lips. "We'll have to see, yeah?"

He nodded at the bit of information about being around a while and looking for a new bar. Archer could understand that. "Yeah, other bars get old. This one just gets better." He was convinced of that because well, he worked here and repeat business was important. "Every time you come in, it's like coming home even if you aren't Irish. I'm not. But that doesn't matter. It's family." He glanced at the clock then back to Rex. "Well, we can stay open all night but I can't sell liquor after the legal closing time. You'll have to stock up in a back booth before then." His own smile came easy. Then again, he always ended up grinning when his brother and Chase were in the middle of mischief and grinning like that. "Determined not to sleep, huh?"



(4:42:59 PM) Rex Evans
Too much. That's what it was; he'd went a little further than he probably should have, and the prompting made it evident. Still, as if he wasn't nearly shell-shocked, he grinned when Archer caught the peanut and popped it into his mouth. "Yeah. Got out of'a rough situation'.. didn't know anyone." So much for trying to be subtle; it was meant to ease any curiosity, but after rethinking what he'd said, he could have shoved his palm so far through his face, it was laughable.

"Yeah.." he agreed, glancing down at the glass. No, there was really and truly no way he could down that much liquor in 45 minutes, especially not when he'd woken up more than he had intended, as it stood.

He did, however, take another long sip from it before sitting it back on the counter, and propping his jaw up on his palm. Irish. How odd that was. It was only something he'd learned as of late; something he'd questioned the detective on, given the tattoo inked into his flesh.. but.. he didn't comment. "Prob'ly start comin' here instead, unless I wanna knock someone's teeth down their throat.." Which, there was no way around it.. sometimes, the frustration was just too great and he did go stir up trouble. ..Then again, he always had. Being battered, bruised, and scuffed was nothing new.

"That fuckin' sucks.." he said, talking over Archer, concerning the not being able to sell liquor after the legal closing time. However, the bit about stocking up in a back booth before that time came? He couldn't help the smirk. "Sounds like that's 'bout th'only option I got," he said, nonchalantly. And thus, he was reaching for his jacket -- not for the cigarettes, but for the folded up bills that he didn't hesitate on throwing onto the counter. "Just whatever that'll cover - plus another refill," he said, gesturing down to the half-emptied glass. "..No." came the next answer, and he resumed his previous position. "Determined to sleep.." -d



(4:52:22 PM) Archer Keating
"I found friends like that when I first came here." He wasn't as guarded about sharing about himself, it seemed. "Been about eighteen months now and some of those people I first met are still around. Not too much though. Most got back to their lives." He chuckled a little. He missed some of them but life had a way of shaking you up before spitting you back out, right?

"You'd be welcome back." He couldn't help but say that with a smile. Even if he wasn't Chase, he reminded Archer of Chase and maybe something he never thought much about in the years that had followed Chase's leaving. "We've had a brawl or two here before. Usually after a game though when we lose." He didn't elaborate on what game or who was losing. That usually didn't matter so much.

Archer looked at the money tossed on the bartop and leaned forward to collect it. "Well, if it's to make you sleep, I got just the thing." It was a friendly wink and then Archer went to tender the sale. He came back with four bottles of a different brand of scotch. It was a better brand, aged longer, higher proof. "This'll probably do you better than what you're drinking now. You might need to give me your address so I can ship you home once you pass out if you're going to drink here." It was casually said, the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth with a dimple threatening his cheek.



(5:01:41 PM) Rex Evans
It could have been that. Easily enough. When Archer spoke on finding friends like that when he first came here, it seemed to draw his attention in even more.. even if he didn't keep his eyes on Archer as he spoke. "I don't remember anyone.. 'cept for one person.. 'n that took a while." Why.. was he even saying anything? Life did have a way of shaking you up before spitting you back out. "I don' think I had friends b'fore comin' here." It could've been taken two different ways, of course, and was done so intentionally.

"Good shit. 'cause I always need more places t'go this late at night when no one else is awake." It was true. You try going to knock on someone's door at midnight, two o'clock in the morning, or later.. they weren't at all too pleased by it. "..'ey, m'good at brawls. That's more'n enough to make me come back." What? Just in hopes of getting mixed up in one? Hah!

Again, the glass was taken up and all but drained of it's contents as Archer spoke.. but he did catch the wink before the tender headed off to tender the sale. It left him smirking all the same, long before he ever returned with the four bottles of scotch. The last comment even got a snorted back laugh out of him before he shook his head and reached up to rake the mess of hair back. "Ain't got one. Jus' stayin' at 'n old friends place 'til I get my shit in order." And by shit in order, he meant all of it-- there was a lot of remembering to do, that just wasn't happening quick enough. Probably wasn't supposed to, of course, but to hell with the agents. He'd remember, eventually. "So jus' dump me out on th'sidewalk or somethin' if I pass out here." Problem solved.



(5:24:51 PM) Archer Keating
"Not going to leave you on the walk. You might end up mugged and we can't have that. We'll stick you somewhere safe to sleep it off." He was chuckling about his own solution to the problem of no address but his mind was going over the things that Rex had said. Didn't remember anyone. Took a while to remember one person. Ashton found his chest tightening a little. Instead of latch onto that conversation, he turned it to the brawling instead. "You do look like a guy who could keep his own in a fight. If you're that good, we might need to see about hiring you as a bouncer or something. Then you could get paid for doing what you love." He was only partially joking on that one. The idea of a bouncer had been talked about in various team meetings. Paddy wasn't against the idea at all. They were profitable so Paddy was thinking a bouncer might be another level of security for the place. That's when he decided to round back to the part of the conversation about memories and sleep.

"We are open until two and then Paddy says we can stay later as long as the bartender doesn't mind. For the record, I don't usually mind staying. My day job is flexible and they know I work here so it's all good." He tapped his knuckles on the bartop. "But if I'm staying, I'm eating. Been a while since dinner and I think my stomach's going to cave in on itself. Just a minute." He headed for the kitchen and called back, "Cookie, put me in one of those shepherd pies. No carrots, okay man?" The retort was something in a very heavy irish slurred accent. Archer was getting really good at speaking Cookie though. "Yeah, then go ahead and take off. That's fine. Old man Corey is the only one left other than Rex. We'll be fine. Thanks!" He left the window to return to the register and put in his own food order. A glance was tossed over his shoulder at Rex. "Last chance for food."

The old pub was being watched from the outside and part way down the block near the mouth of the alley. There weren't many people on the street at this hour, traffic was sparse and the bum who lived at the end of the alley had been passed out for a good hour or more. A single guy leaning against the opposite building wasn't much of a stand out occurrence since it happened all the time. He hadn't been there for too long yet either. The guy was about six feet tall and of average bulk. He wore an old trench coat so only he and god knew what was under it. Old combat boots that had seen better days were on the guys feet and a gray stocking cap on his head.

Back inside Murphy's Law, old man Corey was wrapping up his last beer of the night and getting ready to leave. He had the look of an old sailor about him and, although obviously older, he didn't look frail. The bald Irishman gave the young bartender a wave and headed out after dropping a twenty on the bar. In the alley, he passed the guy in the trench and stocking cap without pause or second look. The loiterer was just that unremarkable.



(5:43:03 PM) Rex Evans
Mugged? He couldn't help but smirk at the idea, but only because it had been attempted.. it just hadn't faired entirely too well for the person in question. It'd been damn near incidental, in Rex's behalf, the shape the guy ended up in.. but.. that was what happened when you took a normal young man and did the unspeakable, and conspiratorial things to them. They became monsters without realizing it.

"A bouncer? Bet I could do it blindfolded," which.. would have been an exaggeration for someone of your typical standings, but.. he was being honest. "Ain't like m'doin' anything else here b'sides takin' care of an ol' stray husky." Which.. to a point, was true. He hadn't had the time to escape his own mind long enough to go looking for an average joe's job.

Rex was nearly about to ask if Archer minded staying later, but instead smirked when the question was answered right along with the fact that it was allowed. "Well, eat or somethin'. Else I'll jus' fuckin' throw nuts at you all night." And to punctuate that statement, he swiped up two this time and chucked them at the tender even as he headed to the window to place an order. The slurr of Irish accented words had him grinning, even if he only shook his head in the end-- no, he hadn't understood a damn bit of it. "I'm good," he assured Archer, when he glanced at him again.

He turned back to watch as the old sailor-lookin' man wrapped up and headed out after dropping the bill on the bar. And as if it were on cue, Rex slid off his stool and collected all four bottles between the knuckles of both hands and carried them all the way to the far end of the bar, and stashed each one just beneath the bench seat before heading back around to the bar. He took his spot back, and shot another glance at his jacket. Cigarettes and alcohol went hand in hand, but.. it seemed, at least, Rex was willing to be patient. He'd have plenty of time to smoke when his mind started buzzing.



(5:55:12 PM) Archer Keating
He'd felt those peanuts hit his shoulder and back and chuckled. The peanuts might just be the best part of the night. So many memories came back each time one hit him. He wasn't sure how he was keeping up with the conversations. Well, maybe he wasn't really. He turned from the register, again catching up on the conversation only because his mind was caught up in those memories. "I can put in a word for you with Paddy; get you an interview. The rest is up to you." He went down the bar to collect the money and then, while Rex was taking up residence at the booth in the back, Archer went out to the Corey's table and bused it, wiping it clean before heading back to the bar. The mug was washed and set to dry.

All Cookie had to do was heat up the pie since they were pretty much pre-made earlier in the day. He dropped it off at the bar on his way out. The kitchen lights were still on but that was only so Archer could take care of his own damn dishes when he was done eating. Cookie wasn't a big man. In fact, he was all of five foot five but built like a boxer. His hair was shorn tight to his head and red as the day is long. He gave Rex a nod, said something in that thick irish accent to Archer and then headed out. The door swung closed, the bell jingling when it did.

Archer got a fork and headed around the bar to take a seat on the guest side. The barstool was only one away from where Rex had been sitting at the bar. He looked from Rex to his jacket and back. "Nobody else is here. You wanna smoke, go ahead." He gave a quick wink and couldn't help look to see what kind of cigarettes this Chase look-alike chose to smoke. Archer took a careful bite of the pie and smiled around chewing. "Now you're out of luck. Liquid diet is all you get. The cook has left the building." He waved his fork at Rex as if Rex had made a very bad decision. "These are awesome, you know. Honest to god, shepherd pie."

The figure outside didn't move until Cookie was out of the alley and on his way down the sidewalk. He'd done the math. With Cookie gone and all the regulars, nobody else would be in the bar except for the bartender. That's when he pushed off the wall and started walking toward the door. He could see inside and noted with a shot of panic that there was still a guy inside at the bar. This made the loiterer pause but after a couple of seconds and a more determined look on his face, he continued his path to the door. As one hand reached for the door, his other hand reached for the stocking cap and pulled it down over his face. Dark brown eyes peered out the holes with a wild look as he strode in, gun yanked out of hiding.

Archer's attention swung from waving the fork at Rex to the door when it jingled that someone was coming in. He hadn't expected another customer and his welcoming smile was cut short when he saw a gun pointed at him.

"Dump the money in this bag!" The robber threw a paper bag on the bar and kept his distance of the two. He knew which one was the bartender and kept the gun on him more than the other guy. "Do it now!"



(6:12:27 PM) Rex Evans
So, he'd get an interview.. and quite possibly be some bouncer for an Irish-ran pub; it worked. Even if he knew that there'd be some dropping jaws if he ever, by chance, had to bounce someone out that door. Unless he could somehow find a way to tone it down and just do what was necessary.

After an upnod of sorts given to the ginger-headed Cookie, his attention had settled back on Archer when he came around to the customer side of the bar and took a seat nearby. "Really?" Hey, he wasn't going to argue. When the go-ahead to smoke was given, you'd best believe he leaned over and snatched his jacket up pretty quick; out came the box-pack of Camel wides, and he managed to pull one free with his mouth with fumbling for his lighter with his other hand. "..S'all good. I don't eat that much, anyway-- even if it does smell good," he mumbled from around the filter. The pack was eventually tossed onto the counter, and he shielded the flame to the beat up BIC as he ignited the end of the cigarette. Whatever else he could say though was interrupted by the jingling bell, and for a moment he only watched Archer's reaction. He didn't need to look at the guy - even before the loiterer-turned-robber spoke - to know there was about to be an issue. Still, Rex tossed the lighter onto the counter before ever turning to eye the masked body who'd just thrown the paper bag.

"..Don't," Rex instructed, rather casually, and exhaled a dual-stream of smoke through his nostrils, much like a dragon before he pushed up off the stool. Guns didn't bother him. Still, it was likely confusing as hell when - leaving the cigarette between his teeth - he put his hands up in something that would have been considered surrender before moving closer to the robber. "Just.. gonna.."

He didn't say much else though. Instead, he lurched forward and grabbed the robber's wrist with a quickness that a cat might have possessed. The vice-like grip he was capable of, would have only made it futile to try to aim anymore, and without even thinking -- muscle memory, perhaps? -- he wedged his other hand's thumb against the robber's trigger and fired out all seven of those bullets before applying just enough pressure to the point in the man's wrist to make his hand jolt open.

After that, it was a twist and a shift of his boots that would wedge the would-be robber's arm behind his back, and using the leverage and level of pain, Rex went right ahead and swept him off his feet. Literally, so he'd land flat on his face.

It was all so casual and nonchalant, however, and that was likely what would always give him away. He was trained for shit like this- trained to get the upper hand, always. Even if he was shot in the process.. even if it was ten against one.

The ash tumbled off his cigarette, and he stooped over just to grab the guy by the back of his neck and at the very same time, swiped up the fallen pistol. Helping to haul the robber up in some mock-nice gesture, the butt of the pistol was slammed into his temple just to send him crumpling right back to the ground. Yeaaah, might wanna stop him before he outright kills the guy..



(6:22:43 PM) Archer Keating
He never had to deal with a robber before and the gun staring at him was definitely not something Archer had dealt with before either. He slowly lowered the fork and was about to move to comply when that simple word from Rex made Archer freeze. He heard Rex moving. He all but felt the wash of heat from Rex as he took a step toward the guy, hands up. Yeah, Archer could do that too and did. His hands slowly going up so he didn't seem like a threat either. The robber liked that they were both surrendering. He liked it so well he forgot to keep his distance and didn't back up when the one guy walked toward him. "Yeah, do it!" He waved the gun at the guy and was ready to fire the gun when his world turned sideways. The robber wasn't ready for the professional and found himself in due time on the floor with his own pistol being used to whip him. He lost consciousness after the second strike.

Archer thrust himself away from the bar after thrusting himself over it to hit the silent alarm. Then he scurried toward the two as the next strike of the gun cracked the guys skull again. "Ch..Rex!" He grabbed at Rex's arm and tried to pull him away. "It's over! Stop! The cops are coming!" He tried to maneuver himself between Rex and the would-be robber where the injured man lay bleeding on the floor. "It's okay." He held up his hand, outstretched in a feeble attempt to protect the guy from having his skull completely crushed. Archer's heart was pounding, eyes wide as he looked up at Rex, his other hand resting on the would-be robber's chest. "It's okay." This time the words were quieter, imploring Rex to just take it easy.



(6:33:33 PM) Rex Evans Even
when he was about to hit the guy again, he caught that 'Ch,' that shouldn't have been there. Caught it like a light in the fucking dark that flickered for just a second before dimming out again. Next thing he knew, though, his arm had been grabbed and Archer was trying to pull him away.

Before the tender had a chance to block him completely, he threw the pistol down at the bleeding man on the floor, and just as casually reached up to take the cigarette from his mouth so he wouldn't have to mumble when he spoke next. Intense ambers watched over at him for a long moment; it's okay. No, he knew it was okay.. that wasn't even the cause of the look Archer was being given just then.

No. He knew enough to know why he wasn't phased by the injured and bleeding man on the floor, or why the near-frantic Archer didn't seem to make his own heart pound. It was all just so .. engraved. Slowly though, he took a deep breath and flexed either hand slowly despite the cigarette between his knuckles. "What'd you-- about.. call me, just'a second ago?"

Yes, nevermind the fact the cops were coming. Or the fact that, that last blow he'd gotten in had gotten the would-be robber's blood on the white hoodie he found it necessary to wear wherever he went-- even if, upon noticing, he was steadily working it off.

"Jus' leave 'im there.." he said, almost carelessly. Heartlessly, maybe? No.. not quite. The bastard deserved it though. "He ain't dead." And wouldn't be. He'd wake up in the hospital with a splitting-fucking-headache, and then be wheeled off to jail.



(6:44:21 PM) Archer Keating
He was the opposite of Rex. He wasn't calm or cool about the situation. Archer looked up from the guy on the floor to look at Rex, eyes going wide for a second. He cleared his throat before returning his attention to the guy on the floor. The cops shouldn't be too long considering the precinct head quarters was only a few blocks over. Archer stayed on the floor by the injured man. He felt stupid for almost making that blunder but it would come out sooner or later, right? He didn't answer right away though. He dodged by looking back to the would-be robber.

"I can't just leave him." Archer had always been the kid to bring home injured birds or stray animals back when he was younger. How many wild birds were buried in the back yard of the house he grew up in? Hard to number really. And the family always seemed to have another stray cat or dog to try to find a home for because of his inability to just walk away. Archer got up and wiped his hands on his jeans smearing blood and dirt across the black fabric. There were towels at the bar he could use to wrap up the guys head with until the police got there. He fetched one and knelt down by the unconscious man. "You would make a great bouncer." He was trying to make a little light of the situation but his own complexion had paled and he was shaking a little. He didn't want to look down the business end of a gun ever again.

He kept the towel pressed to the guys injury, thinking about the blunder before. He finally addressed it with a quickly mumbled, "You remind me of a guy that used to hang out with my brother. His name was Chase."



(6:53:31 PM) Rex Evans
For the most part, Rex nearly ignored the attempt to make light of the situation.. even if it was true. Rex could do that, and more. And yet, just now? That calm of his was kind of dimming. He was more than ready to go sit back down, but instead only made it to the bar long enough to flick the ashes into the ashtray before watching Archer return with the towels to wrap around the man's head; really, it was probably akin to watching a small kid not quite understanding what the commotion was about. "He was going to shoot you," he attempted to explain. Never mind the money.

"And you're still gonna wrap 'is head up like he's a li'l injured boy?" No, he just didn't understand-- it wasn't said with any ill will. Rex would have just hated to see what would have happened had he not stopped..

Then that quick mumble came, and he went silent while his free hand moved to scratch just around that tattoo on his neck -- not the crown one, but the one on the back of his neck that wasn't so often seen. If, by chance, anyone got around to see the back part of him - which was rare, given the paranoia - it'd be obvious.. but, until then? ... "Your brother.." he trailed, watching Archer even closer, then.

Unnerved wasn't quite the right word for it; curious, of course. But then wasn't the right time, was it? He smoked down the rest of his cigarette and dropped it into the second, untouched, glass of water on the bar before raking his hand through his hair only to resume scratching at the ink at the back of his neck. It was a tick of sorts, that only occured when he was frustrated.

"..We gotta talk when he's gone." And that was where he left it.




(7:02:46 PM) Archer Keating
Archer didn't find it a good time to point out that if he'd given the robber the money, most likely neither of them would have been shot. Timing was everything and that subject just didn't seem right at the moment. "I don't want him to die on my shift." Maybe he sounded a little petulant but he didn't want to see the guy die. He looked up when Rex let his sentence die off about brother. He had to remind himself that Chase was dead. This guy wasn't him. But he looked like him. He sounded like him. He nodded at the idea that the two would need to talk. No answer was possible because that's when the police rushed in.

The next few minutes passed in a blur for Archer. He had to give a statement and one of the cops went to talk to Rex and take his statement too. An ambulance was summoned and in a relatively short period of time, the would-be robber now turned victim was hauled off with police escort. No charges filed against Rex at the moment since it was being called self defense. It seemed that the guy had committed a string of robberies so Rex had done the police a favor by putting him out of commission. Once it was quiet and the doors had closed and were locked, it was well past the time that serving alcohol was legal. Archer didn't care and he figured that Paddy wouldn't either. He turned the open sign to closed and rested his hand on the glass for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

Archer's dinner was cold but that was ignored too. He pushed away from the door and headed for the bar. He went behind the bar and poured himself a shot of rum. He tossed it back like a champ and closed his eyes, licking his lips briefly before opening them to look at Rex. Archer took the bottle with him, picked up his cold dinner and went to the back of the bar. He slid into the seat and set his dinner down and the bottle next to it. "That's more excitement than I'm used to. I prefer the bar brawls."



(7:11:37 PM) Rex Evans
Rex gave his statement easily enough, though only spoke the few words necessary to do so. No more, no less; and after it was done.. he shook his head and made his way to the booth where he'd stashed the bottles. Took one up and on his way back to the bar, cracked the seal, and then took his place back on the stool. Only, he wasn't quick to take a sip from it. Instead, he propped his head up on his palm for a long moment, just staring down at the counter's surface.

He didn't bother informing Archer that, that was nothing in comparison to some of the things he'd done and seen-- it was unnecessary. "..Sorry." Really, it was a wonder the would-be robber's gray matter hadn't been leaking out of his skull.

Finally, he dropped his hand and even left the back of his neck alone long enough to lift the bottle, bottoms-up style to take a few long swigs before settling it not on the counter, but on his knee.

"Guess I'd hafta tone it down if I worked as'a bouncer, huh." And that was his attempt at lightening the situation. Even still, he was well on his way to lighting another cigarette; snatched the pack of Camel wides right up off the bar, but paused, amber eyes settling on Archer. "..Now.. tell me 'bout how you 'n your brother know.. knew.." Eh, he'd know what he meant-- he hoped, anyway.

Perhaps it was more of the paranoid side of him just then that wasn't allowing him to repeat the name, even if he knew damn well it belonged to him.



(7:25:53 PM) Archer Keating
He wasn't eating the cold food. Archer was just staring at it. His heart had calmed down a bit and the excitement had left him tired but he was too on edge to sleep. He shot a look at Rex and gave a little chuckle. "Not your fault. Paddy will love you for saving the register." He scratched fingers along his jaw, eyes falling to the meal he'd been ready to eat before the commotion. He finally decided cold wasn't for him and stood up, heading for the kitchen to nuke the dish. He paused at the door of the kitchen, one hand pushing it part way open. His stomach twisted and there went the appetite. It was just the way Rex worded that. It was off and Archer felt like he was standing on the top of cliff with the ground starting to fall away from under his feet. He sat the plate just inside the kitchen on the counter and shut off the light, moving only then back toward the bar. He looked at the cigarette pack and then back to Rex.

"Grew up in the same neighborhood. Used to come over and hang out. Let me hang out too sometimes. The girls would come over and you guys would work on the bikes. Mum always had food." He kept his gaze focused on Rex, trying to read any expression that Rex offered. "There were fights sometimes. Chase came over late one night with a few of the guys, everyone was beat up and bloody. I watched from upstairs while Mum patched everyone up, scolded everyone and then threw her hands up when the guys laughed it off." He lifted his shoulder a little in a shrug. Had the air gotten thicker? It was growing harder for Archer to take each breath. "He had a tattoo like yours." Archer nodded at the visible tattoo. Then he continued, his voice dropped to a whisper. "He had another one on his shoulder. A celtic knot." He bit his lip and yes, he was actually holding his breath.



(7:37:34 PM) Rex Evans
At least one person would love him for the messes he could make; that much certainly hadn't changed.. it'd only intensified, tenfold. Snaring a cigarette from the pack with his teeth, he soon followed it up with the lighter before dropping both items almost cooly to the counter top. Still, Rex was watching as Archer headed off to re-heat his dinner.. then merely sat it down.

It was typical, really.. wherever he went, the air got thick. When, of course, it involved bringing up his past - known, or otherwise - but all Rex could do was try to remember it as Archer was re-telling it. His attention was on the cigarette, but only because his mind was all over the place just then, trying to locate the missing pieces-- this was why he couldn't sleep at night. This was why he drank himself into oblivion.

The tattoo that was nodded at was alright; but, the one that wasn't visible? The one on his shoulder? He hadn't taken off his shirt, nor was he wearing a sleeveless one once he'd ditched the hoodie; it was just a black, fit, shirt. But he took it upon himself, then, to gently rest the cigarette down on the counter top in such a way that it wouldn't burn or mar the wood.. and eased the sleeve of his shirt up and back.

He didn't say a single fucking word, though, before or after twisting on the stool so it could be seen; the black lined and tinted celtic knot that was indeed on his shoulder.

Out of all of it though, Rex was just dumbfounded. He was obviously at a loss of words, and a lack of.. everything at that moment, even after he'd let his sleeve drift back down onto his bicep so he could reclaim the cigarette before it did damage. Instead of saying anything, and while still looking more like a deer in headlights, he lifted the bottle back up for an even longer pull of the amber-colored liquor.



(7:47:32 PM) Archer Keating
He didn't look away from Rex. Blue eyes remained intensely focused on the face that was so familiar to him. The only time he moved was when Rex pulled his sleeve up. Archer's breath exploded outward in a rush of 'oh my fucking god'. Deer in headlights was a good way to describe Archer, too. He leaned forward and helped himself this time to pushing up the shirt sleeve to reveal the tattoo again. Fingers brushed over it and then he turned Rex around so the men were facing each other. The expression demanded answers.

"They said you were dead."

It wasn't meant as an accusation. It just came out on the next breath. "Why Rex?" The question was more about why the name Rex than asking about why they'd been told Chase was dead. Archer's brow was furrowed and the questions were building but he didn't let them all tumble out at once. He leaned back, hand resting on his own thigh. He shook his head slightly, an almost chuckle lacing his next words. "You act like you don't even know me."



(7:55:39 PM) Rex Evans
He only tensed briefly when he was turned around, but he set the bottle down. Though he still held firm to the cigarette, he made sure he wasn't exhaling any of the smoke in Archer's direction as he went right on about smoking like the figurative freight train he was.

They said you were dead.. His head spun at that, but he knew it was true. Seen the doctored death certificate, even if it was only recently. The next question that came only made him shook his head. It was no easy thing to explain how or why in regards to any of it.

"Long story.." he replied, but stoically so.

Taking the last reluctant pull from his cigarette, he reached over and dropped it into the glass with the other two and twisted back to rest an elbow on the counter top. It wasn't until the nearly-chuckled words came that he looked back over to Archer. ".. I don't r'member you," he admitted. "I don't r'member shit about anything.. you wouldn't understand even if I tried t'make you. ..Fuck if I even understand all of it."

"A lot.. of shit.. happened." And there was no way to just walk around and pick up all the pieces he was missing, no matter how bad he wanted to.



(8:09:07 PM) Archer Keating
If he had been given a right hook he couldn't have looked more stunned. First, Chase wasn't dead. Second, he didn't remember him. Archer almost could forgive that because he hadn't been the one that Chase had hung out with. But not remembering anything, that was disconcerting. "Nothing? You mean like .. amnesia or something?" It was out of the movies. Real people didn't get amnesia.

Archer blew out a breath and leaned on the bar top. "What kind of shit?" He got up from the stool and began pacing. He couldn't sit still. This was monumental. Everyone back home thought Chase was dead but here he was and with no memory? How would they take it? He couldn't wait to tell Mum. And Chase's family too! He scrubbed his hand over his face and then shoved his fingers through his already disheveled blond hair. "I have all night and tomorrow too. Tell me what you do know." He strode back to the bar and eased onto the bar stool next to Chase. "I'm here for you, man. I know I'm not my brother but hey, I'm here."



(8:26:20 PM) Rex Evans
It was something unavoidable, obviously. Even his detective friend had went through it-- the whole being stunned; to the point that, Rex nearly expected Archer to suddenly swing at him, like Mel had done when he'd been informed that he didn't remember him. Of course, that had spurred an entire all-out brawl that, in the end, had prodded him to remember some things. Not at all once, but some.

"..I guess y'could call it that, yeah," he said, reaching yet again to scratch at the back of his neck. Amnesia. That was a nicer way to put it, he assumed, though truly didn't want to sit and think on it. On what had happened to make him lose twenty-plus years of memories. When Archer got up to pace, he only hunched further forward and snatched up his pack of cigarettes.. even if he didn't light one, it was just nice to keep something in his hands so he didn't haul off and accidentally put a hole in the wall or, break a glass.. or something irrational, as he was prone to doing during moments like this. "Bad shit.." was all he offered at first.

It may have been monumental in the sense that Archer could, at least tell his mother that he wasn't dead.. his own parents, though? Not so much. He'd had to read that bit most recently, after finally convincing his detective friend to spill the beans on all of it, all at once, and boy had that been one hell of a night. He left that tattoo on the back of his neck uncovered for the time, and really it looked like it could have been nothing more than ink meant to be funny; but it was so crudely done. A blackish-blue, almost imprinted barcode, and lined with binary at the bottom. Of course, he knew it was his name-- which was why he went out of his way to keep it hidden most of the time.

When Archer strode back to the bar and eased down onto the stool, he watched across at him just as intensely as always. What was he supposed to even say though? He rolled his head to one side, then the other, and glanced around as if contemplating that very issue.

"I joined when I was 21. Right into basic training." But that was no secret. It was just a matter of recalling it in his own mind so there were no real memory gaps. "I r'member comin' back for'a few months before shippin' out, though." But what he'd done during those months? Gone. "..Then it was off to war. For a while. They put up a calling for some of us, called it some sort'a intensified trainin'." He paused there, just to take his bottle right back up and this time, instead of drinking straight from it, went ahead and filled the glass back up to the rim.

"Yada yada, it wasn't some fuckin' intensified trainin'.. they brought the CIA in.." -d



(8:33:58 PM) Archer Keating
He listened, he watched. He had always looked up to his brother and to Chase even when his mum told him they were not the heroes that Archer had made them in his mind. He hadn't listened to her and when Chase was dead, when they were all told that he was gone, Archer had taken it hard. His brother even harder. "That's heavy shit." He didn't know what to call Chase now. Chase or Rex. "Is Rex a .. you know, secret identity?" He watched as the glass was filled up, eyes following the swirl of the liquid inside the glass. Chaos during the pour turning slowly into some sense of order. Archer was in chaos himself right now, much like that scotch. "CIA."

He really felt like he'd been plunged into a movie. "So what are you doing here? Are you working or .. what?" Archer scrubbed his hand over his face again. This was bizarre and he was having trouble swallowing all of it.

"I can't believe you don't remember us." That came out softer and almost hurt. He cleared his throat though to try to not to look pathetic. "What happens now?" That was an honest question at least. "You're not leaving or anything, are you?"



(8:43:09 PM) Rex Evans
And that was what he dealt with upon every introduction he'd made thus far, after getting off that bus. In the end, it didn't matter, really, what he was called. "Yeah," he agreed. It was heavy shit, indeed, and it never mattered the company he had at the time.. each time he mentioned it, or recalled it, the paranoia crept in, and on up on him like some sort of silent stalker better than he himself could be.

"No.. Rex was.. a new identity. Completely falsified for the sake of a mission." Which he shouldn't have even been delving into just then, but.. hey, reading those case files had pissed him off to the point that he nearly wanted to lure them out. The agents. Have them come look for him instead of just watching him from a distance, like he knew they were.

"Turns out, even some of the FBI hate the shadow-CIA-- I guess some strings were pulled, and they got me away from it." After, of course, he'd been scrambled. He couldn't recall the entire night instance by instance, but he knew that was what had happened, once he'd started remembering bits and pieces. "I'm just here.. I'm nothin'. Fuck, man, I'm dead." Simple as that.. but.. not.

The nearly hurt-sounding words had him swallowing a bit harder and he guised it by bringing the too-full glass up for a nice, long, sip and then simply held it there. "..Ain't nowhere for me t'go. Can't go home 'cause there ain't no one there. Mom 'n dad died in'a car accident jus' last year.. so the report says.." It could've been staged.. or it could've been a bold-faced lie. He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to go digging in the fear of it being some sort of trap.

"..I.." he started, but set the glass down hastily, just to snatch up his cigarettes again, and this time he plucked one out and lit it without missing a beat. "I'll fuckin' remember-- just.. gotta work wit' me here. Pictures, things, .. faces." Instinct? He left that out. Why had he been so willing to throw peanuts at Archer?



(8:54:42 PM) Archer Keating
He took it all in, listening. He was hanging on every damn word that Chase uttered. He'd believe him because, well, he was Chase. It all played out in Archer's head like some crazy movie. That feeling he couldn't shake because it was so damn out there. He shook his head about the family being dead. "Yeah. I know. Quinn was with them. He um .. he didn't make it either." He bit his lower lip. That had been a hard time for everyone. "I was supposed to be there but missed my bus and got there late and missed them." So in a way, Archer had dodged that bullet by mere seconds.

His expression changed and he smiled. "Hell yeah. I'll work with you. I got tons of shit at my apartment. Mum shipped me some boxes recently. They were in the garage attic." He put his hand on Chase's shoulder, fingers squeezing tight for a moment in a gesture of reassurance. "I'm with you. Not going to let you wander around on your own. Ok? Quinn would come back from the dead and kick my ass for it if I tried." He chuckled, a little pain seeping into his expression at the mention of his brother. "I'll show it all to you. Anytime you want." He was, of course, ready to drag Chase out of the bar right that moment and start shoving stuff down his throat.



(9:06:33 PM) Rex Evans
It was like some crazy fucking movie, and he hadn't even detailed it as he could have. ..Some of the dreams he'd had were entirely too vivid, and left him physically sore from just remembering. Not just from the thrashing, but the memories themselves just manifesting as if they'd happened just recently.

Quinn. It was a name that held a vauge familiarity about it, but he couldn't place it to a face. It was neither here nor there at the moment, and he hastily tapped the ashes from the end of his cigarette and eased his other hand up to take hold of the bottle again, despite the glass still being practically full.

"Another bullet I'll personalize when I find 'em all.." he muttered. He already had bullets that he'd printed names on; and he was sure, as he went along, there'd be more. More people who were dead, more or less, because of him. His parents were just two; a girl, and now Archer's brother -- Quinn -- his friend that he couldn't remember. Great. "Then you were s'posed t'miss that bus.." he said, matter-of-factly. He wasn't sure why, but the agents he'd been around? No. They were very precise with what they did, and the things they carried out.

Tons of shit? He was quick to take a swig from the bottle, only to replace the cigarette between his lips even as Archer squeezed his shoulder; amber eyes jumped right back to him. There was still that bit of confoundedness to him, but he nodded once. "A'right," he said, just a bit quieter, though it didn't at all lack the graveled tone that was nearly always present.

And upon that last statement, he got up. In a last ditch effort, he drained the remaining liquor in his glass and strode across the bar to gather up the next three bottles, even if he only wrapped them in the blood-tinged hoodie to use as a make-shift backpack. Apparently, he was ready to go have stuff shoved down his throat- figuratively speaking, of course Upon looping back, he snatched up his jacket, tapped his cigarette once more over the glass and gestured. "You lead.. I'll follow." The sooner, the better. If one thing was certain, being without memory was just a bit scary at times-- even if he'd never admit it aloud.



(9:18:14 PM) Archer Keating
He wasn't sure about the bullet comment and didn't try to get Chase to elaborate on it. Archer was of a firm mind that you only ask those questions you really want an answer to bad enough. He was very surprised by the statement from Chase. He was supposed to miss the bus? It had all seemed like a comedy of errors from the hour of overtime because the other bartender was late to the cab getting stuck in traffic making Archer run the rest of the way to the bus depot. He'd been so pissed and then just dumbstruck when he found out about the accident. He hadn't given much thought to the idea of a guardian angel like his mum had said prayers of thanks to for delivering Archer out of the accident that had taken his brother's life.

He let his hand fall away from Chase's shoulder when he went a little quiet just before Chase started to gather his things. That got Archer moving to go collect his own jacket from the back. He lead Chase to the door, unconsciously stepping around the spot on the floor where the robber had laid only a little while ago. He locked up the place after them and headed down the alley. "I'm only a couple of blocks from here. That's what made it nice getting this gig." Archer's voice was low when he spoke, almost as if he were afraid people were listening to them now. With all the crazy spy shit, who could really know, right?

At the end of the alley he went right then pointed. "The dark one." Most of the buildings were dark but there was a darker one two blocks down. It was taller too, looked like 25 stories at least. He shrugged into his jacket as they walked and then put his hands into his pockets. He wasn't sure what to say really. Chase was back from the dead! Archer glanced at him as they walked. "You do kinda look like shit." He hoped that helping Chase out would give him some peace of mind.

A thought suddenly occurred to Archer as he crossed the street. "Who is this friend of yours that you're staying with? You said a reporter? You sure he's a friend?" Suddenly the very trusting Archer was worried and thinking about spy shit.



(9:31:16 PM) Rex Evans
Crazy spy shit. It was exactly the way he was when he was out, save for the fact that he didn't have the hoodie on, nor the jacket on for the time being. It was a risk, of course, but if there was going to be a stray bullet coming his way.. there'd be nothing he could do to stop it, regardless.

Still, he was silent as they went, only nodding at the low-spoken words. It was kind of crazy; someone who was supposedly not scared of anything acting so damn silenced out in the open. Things did scare him; especially the thought of drawing attention to himself when others were nearby.

Of course, those intense ambers followed when Archer pointed to the building, and he glanced all the way up too and only shifted the make-shift hoodie-bag with the bottles in his grip before dropping the half-burned cigarette, and stamping it out as he went. "..Trus' me, I feel like it.." he replied in a mumble, at the mentioning that he looked like shit. Even equip with the faintest of smirks.

"Detective," he said, at the sudden curious question. "He's'a friend-- he was th'one watchin' be when I was planted out in Cali for the mission; he was s'posed to shoot me 'n didn't. Think that means he's a friend.." But that was another long story within itself. "He's stayin' with his girlfriend so I can stay at his apartment." It all seemed a little cheesy when spoken aloud.



(9:41:26 PM) Archer Keating
He hadn't caught the detective part before. That surprised him but he didn't say anything else about it. Archer just nodded and led the way to the building. There were plenty of shadows out and very few cars driving by at this time of night. In the distance the sound of sirens could be heard. Hard for Archer to know if it was police or ambulance or fire. Chase probably knew from the sound alone it was police. He probably could tell the car was about six blocks away and to the south. Archer barely heard the siren because it was just background noise.

Once they reached the building, Archer swiped his key card to open the front doors. It had been a hotel at one point that had gotten a face lift to an apartment building and then had lost the struggle with time beating down on it over the years. Archer didn't go for the elevator. "I don't like tight spaces." He almost apologized for it. He never had to let on about that before to anyone. He nodded for the stairs and lead the way. "I'm only on the tenth floor." Yes, that was ten flights of stairs that Archer went up and down every day sometimes two or three times a day. He didn't seem daunted by it and headed up at a jog. "I save on a gym membership." He was joking but only sort of.

The building was old and the stairwell echoed the sound of footsteps as they made their way up to the tenth floor. It was well painted but there were signs of wear on the steps and on the metal hand railing. If you looked up and leaned a little, you could see all the way to the top of the building. Once they reached the tenth floor landing, Archer swiped his card again to gain access to the hall. He held the door open and pointed to the right. "That way. 1002." It was, of course, all the way down at the end of the hall.



(9:48:51 PM) Rex Evans
Yes, he was well aware that it was police.. and he could have pinpointed it by the soundwave alone, and.. even though he could, it didn't mean he enjoyed being able to do so. Just like he didn't enjoy being able to stratigically see every, single, detail needed for someone who'd once been a double agent. He didn't as much as comment on it, however, just kept his head low and followed after Archer.

Upon reaching the building, it was uncanny, the way he eyed the elevator while passing it. "..Don't," as if he knew it was an apology. "Here lately, I get this fucked up feelin' someone's gonna drop in on me from th'top of 'em.." So, in other words, Chase avoided elevators as well. Unless he absolutely had to take them, and then it was like watching someone who was afraid of the movement; he kept himself flush with the back wall so he'd have the advantage the first second something didn't seem right. Then flights of stairs wasn't much, and he could have jogged them easily enough, even while snickering at the sort-of joke that passed between them.

Once at the top, he slowed down a bit -- not even the least bit winded, but hey, it was a price to pay. All the bad shit that had come from the secretive program.. it did have it's few quirks.

His eyes lowered to watch the card being scanned, and then he glanced at Archer once more before moving past him, though he waited for the other to close the door before even starting down the long hallway. "How long've you been here?" Idle conversation. Anything to spur his mind along in the right direction.



(9:58:57 PM) Archer Keating
"Now that you mention it, yeah I get that." The idea of someone jumping down ninja style into the elevator to kick his ass wasn't an idea he wanted to entertain. He didn't think about pulling the door shut once they reached the tenth floor. He let it swing shut via gravity. It finally did and even clicked the lock back into place when it finally settled.

By that time Archer was part way down the hall. "I moved in here about six months ago. No wait. Um .. it was five months ago. I've been working at this garage and staying there. I finally saved up enough for the security deposit here." He reached the door and swiped the key again, pushing on the door with his shoulder as he continued to talk. "They wanted two grand and I didn't have that for a while. It's all good though. Come on in."

He flicked on the light and led the way into the small apartment. They were in a small hall that led to the living room. The kitchen was off to the right, the bedroom off to the left. The bathroom was inside the bedroom and to the left again. There was a large window in the living room that had curtains drawn wide open exposing the city outside. "I know you're not hungry. If you get hungry, use the fridge. Anything you want, take." He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it on a chair. There were pictures everywhere and nick-naks too. He paused to look at Chase and for a second he could say nothing. Then he chuckled. "I can't believe you're here in my living room."

Archer shook his head and headed for the kitchen. "I have a glass for your scotch. And the couch turns into a bed if you want to stay, Chase." He came back out, smile warm and almost kid-like. "You're welcome to stay, you know. I'd like to have to stay." He offered the rocks glass to Chase, the smile just growing a bit with that dimple almost showing.



(10:10:52 PM) Rex Evans
And here he'd thought it was just some irrational fear of his.. so, the fact that Archer seemed to understand and get it? Kind of impressed him, in a sense of making him not feel so freakish in the fear-zone.

"Garage.." he trailed, thoughtfully. Archer had mentioned he and his brother would work on bikes; so, naturally, he assumed it was the mechanic-type garage. "Y'know, that's what I entered the military as? A mechanic.." he trailed with a faint grin. If only it had stayed that way. At least he wasn't standing there pondering on it too hard, though, instead, he was listening and watching as that card was swiped a second time. "Two grand?" He really couldn't say too much.. there were still some things he hadn't quite elaborated on just yet as far as funds went, and as far as prices for things he had paid for went.. that were, just recently back into his possession, even if he sooner ignored them.

Once the light was on, he followed in and made quick note of each direction - the window, being the main focus, of course. Following suit, he set the hoodied-up bottles down, and laid his jacket along with it in the chair, too, then only watched Archer with a faint smirk when he was just.. looking at him. "Yeah.. s'kinda weird, I bet.." he tossed out there. Honestly? He couldn't imagine.

The moment it took Archer to head into the kitchen, Chase was quick to pull his cigarettes out of his jacket, but only to fold them into the sleeve of his shirt right along with the lighter. That way he wouldn't forget where they were, and accidentally smash them or something regretable like that. The offer to stay had him snickering a little, but his gaze had snapped right back to Archer just as the glass was offered-- and that smile right along with the dimple. No, there was no chance at fighting off the fucking grin he flashed just then, even if he followed it up with a shake of his head before ever reaching for the glass. "A'right, a'right, I'll stay. ... But in th'mornin', I gotta go get Aspen." ...Aspen? Oops. With the glass in one hand, he steadily unwound the knot he'd put in the hoodie's sleeves, and pulled out the less-full of the bottles and poured a half-glass for himself. "..Just'a stray dog I found. Kinda started out as my only friend, y'know." What? Til the detective - and then Archer recognized him?



(10:21:44 PM) Archer Keating
"Yeah, garage." He grinned wider. "You were a good mechanic. You and Quinn got this old bike working again. Took a while and lots of parts but Mum said as long as it kept you both out of trouble, she was glad to pay for those parts." He was living memories as he spoke. He shook his head to draw himself back to the present.

"Yeah. It was the cheapest in the area too. This place is so damn expensive. I don't have a car of my own yet because I can't afford parking." He felt like he was rambling on and went silent for a moment. "Yeah, it's really weird. You have no idea. it's like, you know, part of my life is back because you're here. I can't have Quinn but I got you. And that's cool."

After Chase agreed to stay, Archer really grinned then. That was the 'I could be a model' smile complete with full dimples and white teeth and eyes twinkling. "You can bring the dog here. They don't care." Part of the reason that Archer liked the place. He didn't have pets but he did have a soft spot for injured wild life. Archer glanced around then back to Chase. "Have a seat man. Um, I'll get the other box out of the bedroom. It's not a ton of shit in it." He paused on the way and looked back at Chase. "Don't let the water out of the bathroom sink. I found this turtle." He shrugged as if that was all he had to say. If Chase had his memories, it should have been all he needed to say.



(10:30:39 PM) Rex Evans
He squinted a little at the idea of Quinn and Archer's mom buying the bike parts, and it very well could have been that he recalled something.. even if it was just a small blink of a flash that was gone just as fast. That was the way it worked, though. Small things that slowly added up to the bigger pictures, and so on.

"If y'need help.." he started, but stopped. It would have been weird to just come out with the fact that he was figuratively sitting on a goldmine because of the work he'd done, and the job that the real job had entailed. He'd get it out eventually, though.. instead, he just shook his head, and went silent too. It wasn't until Archer spoke again that he locked eyes on him; there was a pang of guilt there that, even if undeserving, he couldn't help but feel. "I ain't intendin' on goin' anywhere, either.. so.. get used to it." Domineering; it was a trait that he had, and had stuck through and through. And was pretty much why he'd been selected as a candidate for that program.

But, fuck if he wasn't thrown off guard by that full smile.. even as he went about bringing the glass up for a decent sized drink from it. At least he didn't choke on the shit. "A'right. Jus' don't make fun'a his eyes; they don't match." And he was more than a little protective of his dog, and vice versa. It was an uncanny bond they'd struck up out of nowhere-- almost as if the dog was pre-trained to listen to his commands.

Finally, Rex did move around to take a seat on the couch.. even if it consisted of half-sprawling, and extending either leg straight ahead so that only the heels of his boots were on the floor. "Y'keep a turtle in th'sink?" he called after him, then just grinned again. It wasn't that he found it odd or anything.. just sayin'. Another sip of the scotch and he let his head lull back against the back of the couch just to stare up at the ceiling for a moment.



(10:40:38 PM) Archer Keating
The offer of help was given a little grin and the shook his head a little. "I'm glad to hear you're not going anywhere. I could really get used to having you around. Be almost like old times." Not exactly because Quinn was gone but they could still hang out. That was worth everything to Archer. He just stared though at the eye comment. "Dude, I would never make fun of an animal." He made a tsking sound as he disappeared into the bedroom. "Isn't that were you'd keep a turtle?" It was asked with a certain amount of unintended innocence. Wouldn't anyone help a turtle and keep it in the bathroom sink?

He came back out with the box. It was a good sized one too. Archer put the box on the floor in front of the couch next to Chase's feet. He then sat down on the floor and pulled open the flaps of the box. "Mum might have to move so she was cleaning out the storage. She said she has more and will send it when she can afford it." He pulled out a couple of books, engine guides actually. He put them on the floor and went for a photo album. "Here. This has some good stuff in it." He opened the cover and grinned. "Yeah. Good times." Archer handed the album to Chase. "That's outside the house. I'm not sure when it was taken. You have a black eye. But that doesn't really mean much. You always had bruises and black eyes." Archer chuckled and looked back at the box. He tugged out a hat and tossed it at Chase. It was their high school baseball team. "Remember Quinn was a star for two weeks before he got suspended for weed?"



(10:53:11 PM) Rex Evans
He couldn't help but cackle at the so-innocent seeming question, but he stifled it a moment later with another drink from his glass. It was inevitable, really. He just hadn't been expecting it, was all; in fact, hell, he hadn't been expecting any of this-- not running into someone who knew him when he didn't even know himself, or.. learning about a turtle being kept in the bathroom sink.

When Archer returned with the box, he sat up just enough to drop sideways so he was propped on an elbow. "Tell 'er I'll pay for it. ..Or, you'll pay for it. I'll jus' give y'th'money t'do it." Since, you know, as far as he knew.. he was dead. And he honestly didn't want people to be entirely confused over the fact that he wasn't just yet; he still had no idea how many people he knew, or knew him to be dead and gone.

As the engine guides were brought out and set on the floor, too, he smirked a little; funny, how he at least remembered - at one point- needing such things, himself. But it was the photo album that came out next, and he craned his head just before it was handed over. And damn sure enough, that was him. Black eye, bruises and all. He stared at it long and hard, too, but just until the hat was tossed at him-- only to be caught before it could even hit him, and without looking, too.

He would have commented, but instead rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm for a moment-- the headache. It would've been hard to explain, but he nodded once, in a sort of answer. "That shit'll get'cha every time," he said, almost chidingly. Even if not a damn thing had changed in his own adoration of the plant - not drug, thank you very much.

Still holding the hat, he flipped through a couple of pictures, pausing on one with the three of them apparently in the garage with one of the bikes. Girls all around. "Who th'fuck took this?" he asked, pointing it at it with his pinky finger. At least, they looked amused in the picture.

"Y'know.. s'kinda funny.. seein' shit I don't remember in more than jus' little flashes.." But that was saying something. He glanced back at Archer then, and even dropped the hat ontop of his head. before leaning forward to sit the glass down.



(11:03:52 PM) Archer Keating
"I told her I would help her. I just haven't had the extra cash yet. I figured i could send it next Friday when I got paid." He shot another grin at Chase at the offer of money. "Thanks." He hated to ask people for money. He had a pride thing courtesy his mum. She hated it too. Archer couldn't help but watch Chase as he looked at the picture. Archer couldn't imagine looking at a picture and seeing yourself but not remembering the picture being taken or what was going on in the picture. "Probably mum took it. She was always taking pictures." He didn't look at the image in particular at first but then scooted around to lean up and look at the album. "Yeah, that'd be mum. You and Quinn had just managed to escape getting caught by the cops riding that bike. There was no license on it. The girls, well, they were always around." He eased back to the floor, taking the hat when it was put on his head and setting it by the box on the floor. "You and Quinn always had girls following you."

He dug a little deeper into the box. There were a couple of shirts, a baseball glove, more pictures and a box of small engine parts with screws and wing nuts. He took each thing out of the box and handed them either right to Chase or put them close so Chase could get them when he was ready. There were a couple of yearbooks too.

"You mean seeing this stuff that you don't remember? You remember some things though, right?" He looked up at Chase with a bit of hope in his eyes. Archer wanted Chase to remember him. It was becoming more and more important to him that Chase know who he was. He knew Quinn would have stopped at nothing to help Chase out and now it was Archer's turn to do what Quinn couldn't.



(11:14:19 PM) Rex Evans
"Think she'd react bad if she knew I ain't dead?" he asked, shooting a quick glance to Archer. It was sheer curiosity. Grasping at straws because, hell, Chase had next to nothing - nobody - that even knew who he was. A handful of people thus far, now included Archer. But sometimes, it was downright fucking depressing to feel like a ghost.

When the other leaned up to get a look at the picture, then even explained what had just happened, he snorted back a laugh. "Oh, okay," he replied, tilting his head a little. Running from the cops on an illegal bike-- yeah, it didn't strike him as crazy at all, given the things he'd went through since then. But.. the girls.. "What 'bout you? You had to've had 'em followin' you, too.." he pointed out before closing the album for the time being, just so he could watch as the other items were taken out of the box. The engine parts.. the glove, the shirts.. everything. The wingnuts and screws, he gathered up in his palm almost instinctually, then paused upon that hopeful look he was given. How could he explain..

"The more I see it.. th'more I look at, th'more you say.. the more little flashes I see." If that made sense; it was hard to make sense of it all, even for himself. He swiped up one of the yearbooks, though, and all but flipped onto his back to thumb through it, easily scanning through the names. Jesus, even his picture in the fucking yearbook-- you could see a scuff on his jaw.

The bolts and wingnuts, though, he was jostling around in his hand almost thoughtlessly before leaning to the side again to trade the book for the pictures. "Like now? I remember, sorta; y'know how when y'wake up from a dream 'n can barely remember it, even though it was just'a few seconds ago?" -d



(11:22:39 PM) Archer Keating
"She might tell me that I should stop drinking. If you walked in the house, she'd say a couple of hail mary's and then she'd try to feed you." He knew his mum pretty good and figured that would be how it would go down. That is if she didn't have a heart attack first. He didn't mention that part though.

Archer waved his hand about the girls comment and chuckled but didn't say anything. He always thought he was more part of the pack following the two guys rather than a third guy with all the girls following them. He'd been substantially younger and star struck himself with his older brother and his bad-boy friend. He leaned in to look at the pages that Chase was looking at. He even very helpfully point out the teachers and coaches that didn't like him, that did like him and the girls that Chase and Quinn had boasted about having had sex with. Archer had a pretty good memory it seemed.

"That's a good thing, right?" About the little flashes. He didn't understand it all but when Chase talked about it like waking up from a dream, that made a lot of sense. "Maybe the more you see, the longer you'll be able to remember things." He had no idea how it worked but he was going to be doing some web searches sometime very soon to try to see what he could figure out.



(11:32:21 PM) Rex Evans
And there was a genuine grin of his own, regardless of it being half-cocked. "She'd try to feed m-- god, th'fuck is with people tryin' to feed me," he questioned, but only trailed off with a snicker. It might have been better that Archer didn't mention the heart attack part, otherwise, he likely would have never decided to even attempt letting her know he was still alive and kicking.

"Oh, c'mon.." he teased, reaching over to nudge Archer in the shoulder with a balled fist; it was far from any sort of a punch though, before he relaxed back again and went back to the pictures. "Ain't no way y'got away without havin' girls hangin' all over your ass. No fuckin' way." And he could take that however he wanted.

About the flashes, though, he shrugged lightly. "S'good, yeah. Jus' wish they were more'n flashes.." But, Archer was onto something when he said the more he saw, the more he'd remember. That was how it had been working, at least. Not to mention being knocked upside the head a few times by his detective friend, though he left that bit out purposely. "..Prob'ly have some weird dreams t'night," he mentioned, randomly, while holding a picture a little ways away from his face instead of close up. It was a warning of sorts; he didn't sleep that great, at all. Another press of the heel of his palm to his left eye and he even winced visibly before pushing to sit up a bit further. Otherwise he was going to feel like he was takin' over the guy's couch, like he so had a habit of doing anyway. "This," he said, pointing at the picture in his hand. Go figure it was one of the more innocent ones of him, Quinn, and Archer just sitting around on the couch looking dejected as hell for some reason. "..I remember this one."



(11:32:22 PM) Rex Evans
He wasn't sure how, or why.. but it stuck out. And he'd felt the ping of pain in his head to prove it, if that served as proof. Each time, it was like some part of his brain that stored memories was spurred. "We'd went out th'night b'fore 'n got trashed. Got back b'fore daylight.. 'n your momma caught us 'n wouldn't let us go sleep it off. Told us t'stay on th'fuckin' couch, then went on 'n on about why we shouldn't be drinkin'." -d
(11:40:43 PM) Archer Keating "Hey, it's mum. She always fed everyone. You're not so special." He was teasing there. Mum took all the problem boys under her wing and tried to straighten them out. It didn't always work. Case in point the amnesiac on the couch. There were plenty of nights that Archer heard his mother saying her nightly prayers and the list of boys names was long and lengthy and he swore he heard Chase's name twice.

He took the nudge to the shoulder with a good natured laugh and just shook his head again. "No. The times you guys took off and left me home, the girls left." He said it like it was a relief. "I didn't try to compete with you two." He never had wanted to, truth be told. But he never said anything like that back then or to his mother since. That would start up a whole new string of hail mary's and rosary laden lamenting.

"Do you often have weird dreams?" He was curious about that. This really was waters he was unfamiliar with. "You need something to help you sleep?" He snapped his fingers. "Oh wait, that would be the scotch." He scooted in closer to look at the picture that Chase was holding. He noticed the pain that Chase seemed to be in then looked again at the picture. He nodded. "Yeah, then she made runny scrambled eggs and toast and we had to eat everything she put in front of us. Quinn was the only one who didn't puke. She wonders why I don't like scrambled eggs to this day. It's her fault." He glanced at Chase again. "You need something for your head?"



(11:48:15 PM) Rex Evans
Had he known that much, about Quinn and Archer's mother's prayers, he likely would have felt horrible. Knowing he was that troubled, and still was -- and would likely always be -- it just.. didn't sit well with him. At all. Or, it wouldn't, if he had've known.

When Archer just laughed at his accusation, he smirked a little, but watched him close for a moment-- profiling, perhaps. Trying to. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, as if he remembered all those occasions they'd went off and left him behind. Anything else he figuratively gleened from the situation, he didn't ask about.

"..Very weird," he stated before taking in a deep breath. "Some of 'em are the mental manipulations replayin' in m'head. To th'point that, when I wake up.. shit really hurts.." And almost instinctively, just thinking about it, he flexed his fingers. "..Yeah, scotch," he said, grinning. That was what helped him sleep, if he'd ever get around to drinking enough of it to even get remotely drowsy. Tolerance was a bitch sometimes. "..Bet that's why I can't fuckin' stand eggs," he said, reaching around to scratch at the back of his neck again before letting his hand drop, picture and all, to rest across his stomach. "..She did that shit on purpose, too," he said, and though it made his stomach churn just thinking about it, he was grinning. "..Nah. No. Kinda like knowin' when I remember somethin'. S'like somethin' in there wakes up. Even if it hurts." -d



(11:58:56 PM) Archer Keating
He shrugged at the apology. "I was the runt, man. That's what Quinn called me. I was six years younger that you guys. I had a lot of fun. Sometimes I snuck out and followed you two; that's how I ended up on the couch in that picture." He laughed at the memory there. "Quinn tried to send me home. You said it would be okay. There was plenty to go around. Quinn said he didn't like making out with the girls when I was around." Yep, he'd heard all their whispered arguments.

He shot a look at Chase, more thoughtful. His eyes dropped to the way Chase flexed his hand. "You got really fucked over, huh?" He didn't try to hide that he'd seen the way his hand had flexed. "It's over now. Or that part is. We'll get you back to the way you were." He had a naive faith.

Another laugh came about the eggs. "Quinn's the only one who could eat them after that. In fact, the next time mum had the flue, he made her runny eggs to get back at her for us." He shook his head, a little concern flickering through his gaze. "So it hurts to remember?" That sounded really bad; messed up spy shit that had happened to Chase. "Hopefully it won't always be like that for you. I can't imagine not remembering. I remember most everything from the time I was like .. two." He lifted a hand and gave Chase's shoulder a nudge with his fist. "I'm glad as hell you're back, though. It's like the best Christmas ever."



(12:08:34 AM) Rex Evans
Of course he would've said it was alright; Chase had always been the instigator.. the one to start shit, or simply go along with it. Coaxing people to do things they wouldn't usually do, even if only to laugh later. Not much had changed in that respect, he still had his moments; even the detective hadn't escaped his wrath.

"Yeah.." he said, a bit more solmenly. Being fucked over had never been well received on his end, and this was no different. If Archer had've known what he was planning to do, when the opportune moment presented itself, he probably would have been trying to convince him otherwise. "Fuckin'.. needles, 'n electro-shock.. 'n just.. wild shit.." he said slowly. "Wouldn't let me sleep, or move.." He could have went into details, very, very heavy and harsh detail.. but didn't. Archer was right, for the most part-- it was over. That part, anyway. "We'll see.." he said, but only because he was a bit on the skeptical side. It was hard for him to trust the idea that he'd ever be right again, instead of some mix of two people he was just on the cusp of remembering. The naive faith, though, wasn't at all a bad thing-- if only he could catch some of it.

"Did he?" he asked, still grinning. "How.. me.. of him." And that was a compliment of sorts, if you knew how Chase worked. But still, he released a drawn out sigh and leaned to pluck up the glass of liquor again. "Sometimes. Sometimes, it..does weird shit. Passed out at th'reporters house one night 'n woke up with th'detective pinnin' me down. All I remember is dreamin' somethin' about bein' in battle.." And he supposed he began acting it out. "Made a bunker outta a mattress." Weird. He'd said it. "S'cause you got a good memory. Might need ya t'keep it that way, too." Just incase. To keep reminding him of things, too. The fist nudge to his shoulder got a grin out of him, then he tilted his head to the side so he could better see Archer. "..Christmas in May. Ain't ever heard'a that. But it works. Merry fuckin' Christmas." -d



(12:19:32 AM) Archer Keating
There was some pretty stark horror on Archer's face at the mention of needles and shock and other stuff. That was not the sort of thing that you expected the government to do to people. He actually reached for Chase's arm and gave his shoulder another squeeze. He didn't know what could ever fix that. If he knew what Chase was planning, at this point he might just be cheering him on. "That's wrong. God.. we thought you were dead and they were doing that shit to you?" His face was pained for several moments, regret and guilt warring for dominance. "I promise. You're okay now." He had no way of backing up that promise but he would figure something out if he had to.

On the topic of his mother, the flu and eggs, he nodded. "Oh yeah. And he sat by her bed and tried to make her eat them." How 'me' of him. That comment from Chase just made Archer laugh. It was a relaxed sound, gleeful even. He sighed, leaning into the couch to be more comfortable while Chase went on and spoke about the dreams.

"You get the couch then. I'll sleep in the bedroom with the door locked." Let him believe the lock would save him. Otherwise Archer might just sit up all night huddled in a ball in a corner of the bedroom with a baseball bat.

"I wish I could give you some of my memories. Might help fill in some gaps." He didn't want to share all of them though. Some were things that Chase didn't need to know about. Different things he'd seen or thought that were his burden to keep. He smiled wider when Chase tilted his head a little. "They do Christmas in July. It's just a matter of time before it's Christmas every month." He started to lean in closer then caught himself and turned the motion into standing up instead. "Merry Christmas to you too! I never did get my food." He said it in a rush and headed for the kitchen.



(12:29:56 AM) Rex Evans
The horror there on Archer's face said it all, and he had to look up for a moment, if only to keep from apologizing-- even if he couldn't have forseen it happening. The whole.. them telling everyone he was dead. He didn't know what extent the program stretched to, obviously, even if he had volunteered for it. The squeeze to his shoulder was what drew his gaze back down. "No.. stop.." he started, "M'always a'right. Just a few hurdles here 'n there.." Sympathy, though. He could all but feel the regret and guilt radiating. "Ain't nothin' no one could'a done, anyway." And it really was that simple. Even he couldn't back out, once they'd started.

"I prob'ly would'a got 'er while she was asleep. Slopped that shit right on in there," he mumbled, even if it was playful. No, he wouldn't have really done such a thing-- but it was definitely something he would've said, because.. god.. the eggs. He shifted some when Archer leaned into the couch, and took a decent sized sip from the glass.

"M'not gonna come after you in my sleep. Took'a sleepin' pill that night.." he said, trying to soothe away any risk of the poor guy being scared shitless of him being out on the couch and being a practical loose cannon, while asleep. It wasn't like that, usually. "Th'most that'll happen is I'll wake you up if I fall off th'fuckin' couch or somethin'.." Which.. was true. And at least it wasn't the height of a bed, right? Not too loud of a thump-thud.

The idea of Archer giving him his memories only made him grin, and he took in a slow breath that was meant to lighten the mood even further before his eyes squinted. "Jus' help me get mine, 'n we're good." And honestly, they were off to a pretty good start.

That same intense ambered gaze was on Archer when he was starting to lean in, and then instead, stood up. A somewhat Cheshire grin formed at the returning 'merry Christmas' but he just shook his head when he rushed off to the kitchen to get his food.

"What, y'think m'gonna bite you or somethin'?" he quipped. It was .. pointless; there would have been no holding that back even if he tried.



(12:42:32 AM) Archer Keating
Last thing he wanted to do was make Chase uncomfortable and he had to really take a deep breath to try to reign it all in. Friends didn't turn their back on friends and family even less. But Chase was right. There wasn't anything anyone could have done. They thought he was dead.

He chuckled at the idea of Chase shoveling the eggs into his mum's mouth. There were a number of ways that could have gone and Archer had quite the imagination for the results of such an action. It made him laugh. They had always had a good time growing up. It wasn't a rich childhood as far as money went but in everything else, Archer was rich.

"That's good to know. I'd hate to launch my watch-turtle at you in the middle of the night." He was trying to sound all positive and tough but the first time Chase gets a look at the turtle, he'll really laugh. It was a baby and if the drain was open it might end up going down that drain it was so small. But that didn't stop Archer from making a joke. He nodded. "The neighbors thump and thud around upstairs. I probably wouldn't even notice you falling off the couch."

He tipped his head at the squint. "You know I will. Anything I can do, I will." That was a solemnly spoken promise and it came with another grin to seal the deal.

Maybe it was that intense amber gaze that prompted Archer to stand up so quickly and retreat to the kitchen. In the kitchen he was making faces and cursing himself out for that little shift forward. What the hell was he doing? "Maybe!" He was trying to joke on that to make it sound all normal and shit. He also made noise like he was looking through the cupboard. "You still probably aren't hungry, right? Liquid diet and all." Archer expected a no and finally settled on a bag of chips for himself to munch on. He wasn't in the mood to cook. His hands were still shaking a little. He ripped open the bag and dumped the chips into a bowl. Doing that took longer than just carting the bag back into the living room. He stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. He wasn't sure what else to say.



(12:54:49 AM) Rex Evans
"Launch turtle," he repeated, kiddingly. "Not to dash your dreams 'n hopes, but a turtle ain't gonna do nothin' put look like'a fuckin' earring on me when it clamps on." ..Not that he'd know for sure, but it was an assumption, and most definitely meant to be funny.

"Shit, I might wake them up.." he said, next, pondering the idea, bemusedly before draining the rest of the glass over-dramatically while reclining once more. He'd refresh it, but that would have included getting up. "'n I know y'will. I can tell that about'cha." Really. There were reasons he could trust certain people easily, and didn't trust certain people-- why he knew for a fact some people were up to no good, and when others were. It was difficult to explain, and it had nothing to do with psychic powers.

Whatever the cause of Archer's sudden retreat to the kitchen had left him grinning, regardless. And he didn't even have to move to picture the faces he was making, nor to hear the muted curses. Nothing was as secretive as it could've been, when he was concerned. "..Only if bitin' is your thing," he teased, before pushing himself up to tread quietly over to where he'd left the bottle. Emptying it into the glass, he glanced up as Archer reappeared in the doorway between the rooms and just.. watched him for a moment, a fairly smug beginning of a smirk in place before he lifted the glass for a less-than-small sip. Then, that dark head tilted to the side again. Just slightly, as if he were studying him, then.

"M'never hungry," he said, a bit delayed. And neither of them moved for a moment, but when Chase did, it was forward until he was just a few feet away. Despite the newly filled bowl of chips, he moved just as fast as he had earlier at the pub, and kind of.. grappled Archer around the shoulders before relenting, and walking the both of them back into the living room, casually, like some usual stroll through the park. "What was that all'a 'bout? Runnin' off into th'kitchen.."

Typical Chase. Instigator.

Only once they were back to the couch did he drop back down, and let Archer go. If he didn't sit, hey, that was fine.. if he did, even better. Wasn't like he was going to tease him relentlessly for the things he'd already, for the most part, figured out. He had his ways, obviously.



(1:04:11 AM) Archer Keating
He laughed at the turtle comment. It was a funny mental image of a turtle hanging onto Chase's ear ear-ring style. "Serve them right." The thumb went up to indicate the people upstairs and then he chuckled again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed or chortled or chuckled or just felt this good. Having Chase there, regardless of the circumstances, was a good thing to Archer.

The further tease about biting only got some color to rise to Archer's face. He didn't retort because he didn't think he could without saying something stupid. So Archer retreated into silence. It was a defense mechanism learned young. When he stopped in the doorway, he looked at Chase and offered a grin, munching on a chip, trying to appear all normal.

He pointed at Chase and announced, "That's a problem. You do need to eat sometimes even if you don't feel like it." He had no idea what they'd done to Chase but to Archer's mind, everyone had to eat sometime. He watched Chase move, expecting just normal movement and nothing overly fast. He was surprised by the sudden speed and found himself caught and then with an arm around his shoulders being guided to the couch. He stared at Chase and shoved a chip in his mouth. "I was hungry." It sounded lame even to his own ears but he stuck with it and, since he was at the couch and there really weren't any other seats in the living room, Archer sat down on the couch next to Chase. He looked at him again and admitted, "I really missed you, man. I'm glad you're not dead."



(1:12:36 AM) Rex Evans
When he was pointed at, he only shook his head. "I'll eat when m'hungry.." Which was rare. He was typically too preoccupied with something - anything - here lately. But he did eat occasionally. Even if he didn't particularly enjoy it. Give him liquor and cigarettes, and he was good to roll for a few hours -- or ten hours, whatever came first.

He didn't bother with a rebuttal to the 'I was hungry' defense, but did indeed smirk. When Archer did sit down next to him though, he slouched a little closer, careful not to jostle his own glass of scotch, or the bowl of chips. It was the words that came next though that kind of dragged him out of the smug sort of attitude, and he sighed-- it was kind of a sigh of relief, though. Eventually, it'd be engraved in his brain - along with a long of other things; he wasn't dead. Wasn't a ghost that no one knew or remembered. "M'glad too. 'n, y'know what? Even if I don't remember everythin' jus' yet.. I miss y'too." And he could say that, because - just from what he did remember thus far - he missed it. All of it. Even just the crazy ideas that they'd all had at one time.

"...And y'killed my train of thought," he said, snarkily, even if he was joking. Even feigned a scowl that lasted all of a quarter of a second before he nudged Archer's shoulder with his. "I was gonna say somethin' 'n it jus' fuckin' disappeared." Go figure. .. Or, maybe it hadn't. And he was just prodding along, to see what he could get out of Archer, instead. Mind games. It was a tactic, obviously, even if he wasn't about to say so.



(1:21:37 AM) Archer Keating
He gave Chase a 'look', the same sort of look that his mum would have given him had he offered that sort explanation. He didn't lean away when Chase eased in a bit closer. He just kept looking at Chase's amber eyes, the smile warming his mouth and even threatening to show those dimples. "I'm glad to hear that." Who didn't like to hear they were missed. He chuckled though. "What train of thought? You have a train in there?" He reached up and knocked lightly at Chase's forehead.

Archer took a few chips and popped them into his mouth to cover the whole 'I'm hungry' story. He glanced away briefly then shot another look at Chase. Once again he wasn't sure what to say so he let the silence just be there between them, a faint smile in his expression. His body language was relaxed and excited all at the same time. He was happy and tired. And he was planning on getting everything he could out of every nook and cranny of the apartment to see if anything jogged his memory. What he didn't remember at the moment was a pot of soup that was in the fridge. It was made from a mix that Mum had put together and sent to Archer. All Archer had to do was add water and tomatoes and all the spices were already there. The pungent scent of that soup might bring back some memories for Chase. Scent was, after all, quite powerfully intertwined with memory.



(1:30:07 AM) Rex Evans
That look he was given didn't do much else but make him smirk. Go figure. It was true, though. There wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to make him eat unless he was good and ready to-- unless, of course, you were the motherly sort who would all but cram it down his throat; which, even then, he only did it begrudgingly to keep from being nagged to death. The knocking at his forehead received a swat of his hand-- yeah, don't play him in slaps anymore. He caught Archer's hand just briefly, then let go with a flex of his fingers and a faint scowl. "Not a real train, ya' dip," he teased.

He let his head drop back against the back of the couch for a moment or so, but then sat up far enough to sit the nearly emptied glass right back down on the floor before reclining again. He didn't usually go back and forth with his ideas and instigations, but.. this was different, wasn't it? Chase wasn't even sure, really, what the fuck he was thinking for once.

So instead of doing anything brazen - like he could have done - he just reached up and scratched at that tattoo, which was damning in itself. That only happened when he was confused, frustrated, or thinking too fucking hard. "Y'said th'couch folds out into'a bed, right?" he started, and even hesitated briefly. "Why don't you sleep there, 'n I'll sleep in th'floor. That way I ain't gotta worry 'bout anything." Paranoia. Yeah, it was there. "Besides that, s'kinda nice t'have someone near by.. y'know?" Ah, hah. Open mouth, insert foot.. but.. not quite.



(1:35:54 AM) Archer Keating
He laughed when he was called a dip. He never liked that as a kid but right now, that was the best thing he could be called and maybe he laughed a little too much but only because Chase really was inside that crazy messed up brain. He nodded about the couch being a bed. He leaned in to whisper something honestly though, "I don't like sleeping on the hide-a-bed." But he wasn't done with that thought. Since Chase and brought it up, Archer admitted that the idea of them being in different rooms was not an attractive one. his eyes didn't stray from Chase's and his voice was a whisper, almost tentative. "You can sleep in the bedroom. Hell, if you promise not to steal my covers, I'll let you sleep on the bed. It's more comfortable than the floor." His smile was crooked with only a dimple on his left cheek. "And count yourself lucky. I don't offer that to just anyone."



(1:44:36 AM) Rex Evans
Yeah, he was in there. That much was certain. It was just a matter of recollecting everything that had happened, outside of the military. Outside of the training, the program, and.. right up until he'd been turned into a blank slate. The laughter left him grinning, though; it just.. wasn't often that, when he was around, anyone was laughing.. so it was nice. A definite change of pace.

When Archer leaned in to whisper, a brow raised, but he sat statue still during it.. and then tilted his head a bit to the side just to eye him a bit skeptically before he continued; and of course, those amber eyes stayed locked on his.

The offer sat fine with him, to be honest. But that crooked smile and the dimple on Archer's cheek did him in. "That works. I ain't a cover thief." Hell, half the time he didn't even use them, considering they got kicked off in the middle of the night anyway. "Oh, I'm th'lucky one.. okay.." he teased, but by then, it could have very well been the alcohol. Even if he wasn't plastered, and stumbling-drunk. He did, at least, have the glassy-eyed look about him. He reached up absently just to prod the dimple in Archer's cheek, careless of whatever reprecussion it might've brought.

"Go on then. M'fuckin' tired, 'n I'm'a follower." Bullshit. He'd always been, and always would be a leader. It was why he was always in so much trouble!



(1:50:36 AM) Archer Keating
"You better not be. I don't like being cold." He never liked being cold. Not even as a kid. "And yes, you're the lucky one." He pushed himself up from the couch and plopped the chip bowl onto the box that was still sitting nearby. Archer then bent back down and helped Chase up even if he didn't need it. He was going to do it so just deal with that!

He still had a hard time believing that Chase was there in his apartment. It was beyond cool. He didn't try to guide Chase to the bedroom. Once Chase was standing, Archer let go of his arm and headed for the bedroom, tugging off his shirt as he went. "And no hogging the pillows. I might get cranky if you do that." There was a scar that wrapped around Archer's side that went back almost to his spine. Since he was walking away, Chase didn't get to see what was on the front of his torso. The scar curved around his body and ended up near Archer's right collar bone. It was new. He'd never had anything like that as a kid. It wasn't a huge nasty looking thing really. It was a thin line that trailed across his otherwise flawless skin. "I don't have to get up early so, unless you do, no alarm clock."