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An alarm, a message, notes and a video. Was it enough? He’d wondered that when he’d first had the idea, and with every day it grew and took shape the question only seemed to further plague him. Lincoln had presented it to her when the plan was fully formed, as shy as a young man on his first date, struggling to look at her face as he explained and showed her what he planned to create. Her memory loss continued to stalk her, they’d figured out it seemed to happen monthly but that meant he could spend days waiting for her to show up for work or appear so he could introduce himself. She’d struggled to understand and the reaction had been different every time, eventually, he’d figured out the best approaches to minimise the slapping, the breakdowns or the shock. It was ironic that Lincoln’s photographic memory had come in handy when it came to her lack of memory, and together they’d worked out a makeshift system but it still wasn’t enough.

The video idea had come when his Mother had sent him a CD with copies of pictures and old home videos on it, some vague attempt to get him feeling nostalgic enough to come home for longer, to turn his meetings at the business headquarters in Sweden into a family holiday. It hadn’t entirely worked, though guilt had eventually got the better of him and his flights had subsequently changed to allow for at least a few “family days”, but it had given him an idea of how to help Demi. He’d spent hours working out the best words to use, the way to explain just what it was she’d forgotten with the birth of a new day. She had agreed to try it, slapping her delicate hand against his bicep in her own particular brand of gratitude, the whimsical belle with her tinkling laughter that could turn to cutting shards if he put a foot out of line. Apparently, he was a sucker for her bossy charm, content to bob his head if it avoided disagreement or pouting. He was her boss, she was his employee and yet he felt an annoying amount of protectiveness over her; clearly buying into her delicate display. She was anything but, he was sure of that, and yet…

The first day of the experiment had left him wracked with anxiety, pulling out every trick in the book to keep himself occupied and active. He awaiting a call, awaiting her arrival at work, awaiting something, hell, anything to know it had worked. Lincoln was driving himself to distraction just hoping that she had seen him, heard him and that she knew where she was now, who she had become in that short time and most importantly that everything was going to be ok.

There were bombshells he hadn’t been willing to drop, things he knew wouldn’t be believable coming from someone who to mind blanked Demi was a stranger, and so he’d asked her to record part of it with him, to let her see herself or to hear it from her own mouth. It was all a risk, but he hoped it was worth it. He told himself it was to make both of their lives easier, that it was simply a kindness and courtesy that he would extend to anyone in his companies who needed the help. For Linc, it meant an employee who didn’t disappear for days at a time and came to him panicked or apologetic, not really knowing who he was to her, and for her, it was the restoration of the vital memories she had lost. The plan was to add to it if it worked, to edit where needed and create some kind of debrief folder or powerpoint display, Lincoln did love a good powerpoint display, to show any growth or changes she went through. That was all hinging on that initial success, the trial run that had him on edge.

At setting of the sun the first alarm sounded on her phone, the second set for 10 minutes later, each with a message for her to get up and turn her computer on. On both her laptop and phone he’d set a calendar reminder with a link to the video, telling her to open it. If these were ignored there a few strategic post-it notes in her own hand, telling her to acknowledge the messages. Finally an automated text with a similar message, the video link and a suggestion to watch it.

The video opened to Lincoln, smiling sheepishly at someone off camera, his head ducking as he prepared himself to speak; a moment to reshape his features into something more acceptable. Pale green eyes shone like polished jade, thanks in part to the way they were lit by strategically placed lamps, met the center of the screen. He looked centrally as if meeting the gaze of the viewer, his best public smile in place; clearly not his first time to this particular rodeo of recorded messages. Lincoln was the very image of the PR giant in presentation mode, though the setting and his attire were too relaxed to mean business there was still an air of polish about him. “Good morning, Demi…” He went on to introduce himself, and her, Demi’s voice crystal clear from behind the camera, quickly explaining that while he knew this was strange she had to trust him, that she would understand if she stuck around to watch the rest. He informed her gently that she had a condition, that she’d gone through a change and it meant she would forget everything from that point onwards every now and again, that they suspected it was at the dawning of a new moon but it had been hard to tell without any obvious way of establishing an exact pattern. Sometimes he’d see her the next day and she was different, another time he hadn’t seen her for close to a week. He'd grown increasingly concerned until she’d turned up confused and with a million questions.

Lincoln told her about her job, about how she’d come to Canada, and he had gotten to know her through her employment with him. Only briefly did he mention their initial meeting, calling it a chance encounter and informing her she left an impression. He’d chuckled dryly at that, puffing his cheeks and blowing out an exaggerated breath which playfully implied the impression had been not so much good or bad, but definitely one that had stuck with him. It was a quick rundown in the grand scheme of things, the important information she had to know; where she was, who she could contact to verify the claims made and of course how to reach him. If she wanted to, he’d added hastily in a way that was borderline bashful, covered by a gruff wave of his hand and glance away from the camera. Someone scoffed quietly, the sound muffled, one might assume stifled against the palm of a hand. Photographs were shown, pictures of the office and some of the places she’d been and liked, things that he knew wouldn’t jog her memory but perhaps could give her back that sense of self she lost every time she woke up in a strange place, scared and alone. Demi’s contribution was personal, and he’d not watched that part, letting her edit it in when she was ready. If she ever, he wasn’t sure whether she’d chosen to include a part or not.

The video drew to an end with a warm smile from Lincoln, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “So… Demi, when you are ready, I'd love to see you at the office. If it’s a weekend, then I guess I will see you Monday, unless you call and…” He chuckled again, slumping back in the chair and glancing at the person behind the camera, his expression playfully long-suffering. “If you need help, then I apparently have a bit of a Knight in shining armour complex when it comes to our very own Princess Peach; Georgia Peach that is.“ The implication of the reference seemed clear between them, a personal little joke that was accompanied by a wink to the person behind the camera, so quick it could almost have been missed if one blinked at the wrong time. “Look, I can tell you the full story when I see you next. For now? Well, good morning, Miss Demi Fae, and welcome to the city.” There was a brief pause before a woman’s gentle laughter could be heard from behind the camera, almost flirtatious in nature and the beginning of words that cut off before one could quite decipher what she had been about to say. The visual was of Lincoln with his brows raising in earnest questioning when he shifted to move from the chair, lips parted as if to ask if that was ok. The video ended abruptly, Linc with a cautious smile starting at the left corner of his lips to the soundtrack of the feminine laughter. A small piece of strategic humanity left behind, something to reach for in the fog of forgotten moments.

The night before the first of the month, Lincoln had 'gifted' Demi the finished product of something they had been working on for a few weeks. But, the video hadn't been enough. It could be easily forgotten if she had no idea what she was looking for, and chances are, Demi wouldn't see the video for nights, or even weeks once the new month came. It seemed to be a pattern, one that had been easily pinpointed once Demi had been employed with Lincoln for a couple months. At the beginning of every month, Demi missed anywhere from a day to six days of work, without any indication that she was even employed or a resident of Canada, much less.

So, an alarm by her bed had been set (she wondered if it was because he didn't want her late for work), post it notes that urged her to play the video, and a message to go with it. It should have been enough. And Demi felt confident enough the night she put everything out in plain sight, that it would be enough. "See you tomorrow." Demi said with the utmost confidence, even giving Lincoln an appreciative hug before she left for the night.

-----

She hadn't heard the first alarm, but by the time the second went off, Demi was out of her deep sleep and ready to roll for the night. Only, as she turned to look towards her bedroom door...it wasn't where it should be. The french doors that opened to the small veranda in her upstairs bedroom were absent too. Demi's eyes grew wide as she took a deep breath in....and held it. She listened for noises that she heard, but didn't sound familiar. An unfamiliar voice prompted her to get out of bed, but Demi made no move to listen to the strange voice. Not until the alarm and voice went off again for a third time. Her eyes moved around the room, and landed on the computer that had a post it note that said 'Play me.' She would notice the handwriting anywhere. It was her own. It was because of that, and only because of that, did she move out of the bed and go to the computer.

She didn't know what to expect, or who to expect when Demi finally played the video, but what she saw...she didn't know. Who was he? When he mentioned morning, Demi's eyes moved to look around for a window to try and see what time of morning it was. The time on her laptop read 8:40. That made her wonder what day it was. If it was Saturday, she was going to be late to dance practice. He said his name, but there wasn't any shred of familiarity in her facial features as he gave his full name. Then, he told her everything he seemed to know about her and backed up the claims with photos. Demi couldn't imagine that she 'worked,' because that wasn't what the Fae women were supposed to do. Wives who made social appearances on behalf of their husbands or family members, and involved in at least a half dozen philanthropy things.

Her eyes dropped down to the time and glanced at the day. It was September first, but somehow, Demi couldn't wrap her head around that. Wasn't it just May yesterday? The offer from Lincoln seemed so inviting, but Demi was still hesitant. She couldn't remember a single thing that he had said, and while it seemed they both expected that to be the case, Demi was still in disbelief. How was that possible to forget months at a time? She exited the video program, stared at the background on her laptop and then blinked. She watched minutes pass, feeling no more confident in her scenario and came to the realization (rather quickly) that she would have to call Lincoln. Her eyes moved to the stand near her bed, being a habitual creature of putting her cellphone near her bed in case someone messaged her, or she wanted to check Facebook. Slowly, she moved to her phone and scrolled through the contact list until she found the name 'Linc.' Demi firmly pressed the call icon and listened to it ring. When it was answered, she asked, quietly uncertainly... "Hello?" As if he had called her and not the other way around.

He was still at the office, and no one was surprised in the slightest.

A friend had already texted him "nerd" when he'd admitted he wasn't available for a drink due to working. He'd taken on a lot, and with the recent upset after the facility attack and cure drama, things were tense in the city. Beyond tense, really. It was a veritable **** show, just after he'd thought things might be improving, that maybe one day he could be honest about himself just as many vampires had been. The same vampires who were ******* up the chance at peace. It was idealistic, and he knew it, this hoping for peace. Unrealistic and unsafe to daydream about. He was trying not to think about it, but it was heavy on his mind because it would impact his businesses, at the very least Bitr. People were unhappy, they were afraid and he felt a stirring of the same mood that had taken hold of the city when secrecy broke. It scared him a little.

There was a lot that scared him lately, mostly due to his own efforts to step outside of his comfort zone, to put himself more firmly back in the world. He'd tried to actually acknowledge friendships, to keep them, had committed to caring for people who came into his life. Even if he didn't want to. Demi had been a bit that way, at first, she'd been a frustration but when he'd seen her again and realised something wasn't quite right he'd felt for the lost soul. Doomed to wake up afraid, confused and alone in a city she didn't know every month. It was why he'd formed his plan. It had been kind of fun getting to know her again, but it also came with risks and its own set of anxieties. Work had primarily kept his mind occupied, not dwelling on his plan and whether it had worked or constantly checking his phone to see if she had called and he'd somehow missed it. That was a relief, he wasn't sure he could take that, it would feel all too weighted and the disappointment of it failing too heavy.

In fact, when his phone did ring he was so intent on the document he was reading that he almost missed it, scrabbling at the last second to answer it, flustered and hurried. "H-..." The word was cut off almost immediately, her uncertain hello giving him cause to draw in a breath, holding it for a heartbeat. When exhaled it carried her name, a question in return. "Demi?" Was this the girl who knew him or the one who'd awoken without any knowledge of him? "Hi. Are you alright?" What was the right thing to say? He didn't have a clue, so he didn't say much, waiting for her to give him some kind of clue.

Someone answered. Hopefully, it was Lincoln; the guy who was apparently her boss. Demi let out a breath of air when he said her name. It had to be him, it just made sense. "Yes." The acknowledgement that it was her was spoken after the breath was completely let out. "Lincoln, right?" She had to ask, just in case. Demi wanted to know who she was speaking to.

"I---I really don't know where I am." Demi admitted slowly, her eyes looking around. A couple of the things seemed familiar, or maybe she hoped they seemed familiar. Because if they were familiar, that meant that she was in a place she was familiar with. That there might be something, somewhere, in the back of her mind that might trigger whatever it was that seemed to happen to her a lot. At least, that was the perception she walked away with after watching the video.

Demi laughed, even though she didn't feel there was any humor in the situation. The laugh was empty and a bit confused. "I mean, I woke up and saw the billions of post-it notes. I think this is where I live, but that doesn't make sense. What month is this again?" Demi asked, because to her, it still felt the same it always felt when she was in this situation (not that she would remember any of these times). Summertime in Georgia, right before her big debut on stage as the Lilac Fairy. "I need to get out of here. A-Are you busy?" Was she supposed to work tonight? If she did, it would be better than sitting at a computer desk looking at things that might be hers, but seemed as if they belonged to someone else who might live here.

So the notes had worked.

Lincoln sat back in his chair, not quite ready to let out a sigh of relief, and his posture remaining slightly tensed as if ready to spring into action if required. She must be petrified, he thought. "I know." Lincoln spoke calmly, slowly to the woman, giving her time to process everything he said. "You're in your apartment, in Canada. Weird, huh?" There was no point in pretending this was normal or sugarcoating it for her, because then it would be another matter of trying to untangle the white lies and placations he used to soothe her. "It's the end of July, Demi. Look, I know this is pretty messed up but I want you to know that you are safe where you are. Try to focus on the few things that are familiar, it might help?" He wasn't sure this was helping, couldn't be sure. What did you say to someone who woke up having forgotten everything they'd learned in the past few months?

Was he busy?

He glanced at his desk. Technically there was still work to do, but there would always be work to do and it was nothing that couldn't be finished tomorrow morning. "Do you want me to come and get you? You can skip out on work tonight. I can show you around the city?" The offer was delivered and Lincoln bit his lip to stop himself saying anything further, waiting for her to reply. He really hoped this worked.

Canada at the end of July?! "Weird--is sort of a huge understatement." Demi couldn't imagine a life in Canada and apparently she had been in Canada for a while. Just a couple months, but longer than the woman ever imagined being in Canada. Which was...never. Demi never imagined being a visitor, let alone a resident of Canada.

Lincoln assured her that she was safe in the apartment, and she just nodded. She didn't feel in danger, she only felt uncertainty, laced with confusion. Yes, the notes had summed it up nicely, but most of it seemed impossible, or far fetched. "Something familiar. Okay." Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the decor, the computer, clothing, the mounds of post it notes and then finally, she saw a familiar bag. It was literally the only thing in the room that seemed familiar to her. "Found something." Demi scooted off the bed and moved to where the bag was at, which was near the floor of a sliding door closet, crouched down and zipped it open. The first thing to greet her was a costume of silver, white and purple which made her sigh. End of July meant that Sleeping Beauty was long over with and that her understudy performed and not her! "Great." She muttered into the phone, setting the stage costume aside, gently on the ground beside the bag, continuing to rummage around in the bag. Ballet slippers, a protein bar, and a small wallet of sorts that would have her ID, credit cards and a small wad of cash in it.

"I work? For you?" there was a hint of skepticism in her voice, because like living in Canada, Demi couldn't imagine herself being employed, let alone successfully employed. It sort of just wasn't what she was 'destined' to be. "How long? What do I do? Where do I work?" She was certain he told her all these things, but again...Demi working at something other than some sort of pie or cookies for some event, decorating a place for the holidays as any proper high class southern lady would do with other high class southern ladies seemed like...a nightmare. For the both of them.

"Sorry, I just feel as if...I don't know. I'm living two lives, and one of those lives I have no control over. A passenger along for the ride. I can't even tell you what I did yesterday." A hand ran through her blonde hair and collected it briefly, so it was out of Demi's face. "Which sounds crazy, I'm sure. I'm not, by the way-I might be a few things, but crazy is not one of them." Shallow? Maybe. Bossy? Sometimes. Even called a Diva a few times, but crazy? Definitely not. "And-well...if you're not busy, that would be great." How much did her boss know about her life? Where did she hang out at? Did she have any friends here? And about ten thousand other questions. "Buy you a coffee for your trouble." Demi suggested as she stood, put the costume on the top of the bag and moved to the closet for clothes. Well, if she did have a second life, at least whoever was in control of it had good taste.

He understood, better than she knew.

Lincoln's life was split in two, he experienced a certain duality that came along with having a secondary personality. Dissociative identity disorder made it so that sometimes Linc would wake up without a clue that he'd done something harmful, something bad. It could be as simple as people believing he'd been rude or dismissive, that he'd been short tempered and defensive or worse. Violence wasn't Kingsley's aim, and yet it seemed to follow him. It tortured Lincoln, because the man had perfect recall in every other aspect of his life. Read it once, look at it for a moment and he would never forget it, the tiniest details could be recalled as if he were looking at a picture or reading from a script inside his head. It made life easier at work, he had a talent for pulling facts out of nowhere and keeping track of plans but there were gaps in his memory, huge gaping black holes of questioning left in Kingsley's wake. It didn't happen every time the man took ownership of his body, but when things went south and **** really hit the fan Linc was left without a clue other than waking up with bruises or split knuckles. Evidence, he would find the evidence and it only served as puzzle pieces he could never quite fit together to create a whole.

"I'm sorry, Demi." It took him a while to speak, only because the woman seemed more than capable of doing so and it was easier to address her words all at once. He'd made agreeable noises, the kind that let you know someone was still there, while he shut down his computer and collected his keys.

Now Lincoln paused, a frown on his face as he spoke to the woman, gently. "It's been a few months. I can tell you more when we catch up, can show you where you work when you're ready and tell you everything I know, everything that's happened in my presence." He sighed, a hand passing across his mouth. How much should he tell her? She wouldn't remember anyway, maybe he could tell her about himself and see what she said. Later, he thought, i'll see how I feel later. "I get it, and when I get there I can explain how. I'll be... Ten minutes, ok? I'm going to hang up now, Demi. I'll be there soon." And he did hang up, only so he could grab his coat and rush out of the office to get to her.

On the way over he observed all the road rules, drove safely and soundly but his heart was racing ahead, beating like a drum and tell him to speed up, to move it. It had worked, at least in part and that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. What had he done, taking on this kind of responsibility? This was someone's mind he was messing with, her memories and knowledge. He had power over it to a degree, he could tell her anything and perhaps she'd believe him if it wasn't too outlandish. Lincoln wouldn't do that, couldn't, but someone out there might.

He parked nearby and made his way to her door, trying to swallow the strange fluttering of nerves that rose in his throat. It would be fine, they'd sort it out. Where was her sire in all this, he wondered? Shouldn't he be the one who took care of this lost girl from Georgia?

There wasn't a lot he could say, other than what he said, Demi believed. Sorry. Really, her lack of remembering, or knowing anything wasn't his fault, so the best he could do was what he tried to do with the notes and the video and offer a sorry. "It's okay." It was a little unfair of her to expect Lincoln to have all the answers, but still, Demi wanted as many as he could give her.

There seemed to be genuine concern in Lincoln's voice and the way he applied himself to the scenario they were both in. Were they friends? Or was she really that good of an employee? Demi doubted it was the last train of thought, and hoped it was the first, but it was hard to tell, wasn't it? Anyone could be, anyone to her. A stranger. A friend. A co-worker and she wouldn't know. "Ten minutes." Demi confirmed before the two hung up and that allowed her another minute of looking around the room. Mostly for clothing.

Ten minutes sounded ideal at first, but when Demi got into the bathroom to shower, she realized that ten minutes wouldn't really give her any time to do most the things she did in her routine before going out. Like washing her hair. She threw her hair up in a quick high bun, jumped in the shower and then changed into the first things she pulled off a hanger and out of the drawer. Which worked, because it was...July, he said. Right?

When there was a sound at the front of her flat's door, Demi took a deep breath in and then let it out. How should she greet him? Were they friends? Any friend of hers back home got a warm smile and an arm around them for a hug, but if they were strictly professional, she didn't want to possibly get fired and lose the only person that seemed to have any clue what she was going through. So, Demi opted to keep things very sterile. She opened the door, saw the face that she had seen on the video through her laptop and then waved Lincoln in. "Come in. And just for future reference, if this happens again...a girl needs fifteen. Don't judge my not washed hair." She lifted her pointer finger in warning, before she closed the door behind him. "Thanks for coming though." The finger dropped and she offered Lincoln a small smile.