speakscanadian | for Asher

The clothes he had dragged on didn't fit right. The shirt pulled over his shoulders, trousers were a little tight around the waist, but they were quality, slick and sharp, so he figured they had to be his.

The room was a mess. Mattress tossed off the bed base, drawers hanging open, side tables upturned. He was searching, frantically. He didn't know what he was looking for; clues, he guessed. When he'd woken up in a strange bed, in a strange wooden house, his first thought was that he'd been drugged. He always went on hunches, so he had run with the idea. Now he had a thousand and one questions and no answers, so he had to fill the blanks in himself. Just until the drugs wore off. Just until his brain kicked into gear.

A utility bill, an address book, something that would jog his memory, give him a name, at least. It felt like panic was his automatic go-to, so he was letting nature take its course, right until the frustration overwhelmed him and he held his head, trying to breath deeply.

There was a scratching at the door. A whine.

He tried to ignore it.

The clothes were definitely his. There were nothing but male clothes in the room, after all. A coupla nice watches. He had slipped one on to complete the look. The chain around his neck felt weird, as did the ring on his finger. Was this his place?

Scanning the room, he huffed out a heavy sigh, bending down to scoop up a suit jacket that had got caught in the cross-fire. He felt the material between his fingers. When he slipped it on, tried to make it comfortable across his too-broad shoulders, it felt familiar all of a sudden. It was a feeling he tried to hold onto. All of this had to be his, right?

Slipping unsteady hands into his pockets, he leaned against the nearest wall, tipping his head back and letting his eyes slide shut.

He cracked one open, just slightly. His hand slowly reappeared, a scrap of paper caught between thumb and forefinger. He brought it up to his face, studying it carefully. American Thread. Dry cleaners. A date stamp. A pick-up time. A name.

A Talos.

He got the same wash of feeling he'd gotten from the jacket. Familiarity. Something he was craving right now. This was him. A Talos.

The whining outside the door got louder, a faint annoyed growl ending each one. His mouth flattened into a line. There wasn't much he was sure of, but he did know A Talos wasn't a fan of stray dogs.

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A Talos.

Asher Talos?

Why wasn't he feeling any urge to argue with him, to tell him he was wrong, that that name was his? Suddenly, the slip of paper felt like nothing at all and he let go of it, arm dropping down to his side.

"What a coincidence..." he eventually said, for lack of anything helpful to say. He figured it was too much to ask that they were brothers.

"What a crock," Asher countered, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

"What's the last thing you remember? Before I got here."

"You know you have fangs, right?" He asked, feeling stupid for checking. But the other guy clearly wasn't going to bring it up and there was only so much ignoring he could do before the elephant in the room got too big.

"And I remember plenty," he lied, his distrust evident on his face. "You're not in any of it."

"Yeah, I know. And this morning you knew that, too." Just like he knew his own name and hadn't been trying to pass someone else's off as his own.

"Is the Mountie in any of it?"

"Mountie?" He echoed, wondering if it wasn't this guy that actually had the screw loose.

"Listen, pal, clearly there's something going on here that I wasn't privy to. So whatever you did to me, just undo it and we'll say no more. I don't want any trouble." He held out his hand again but not close enough for A Talos to reach it from other there. "What d'you say, huh? Shake on it? Yeah?"

"I didn't do this to you, so I can't be expected to undo it. It's this place..." It had to be. Unless Ray had been clocked in the head somehow and that was the reason for the memory loss. But if something had happened to him while on patrol, there was no way Fraser would have left him by himself. So it had to have happened all of a sudden, and recently, too.

"Your name's Ray Vecchio. You live here. The Mountie is Benton Fraser, your best friend. And amnesia or not, you're not leaving this place looking like this."

Well, that explained a lot. Not. He might have been hungry for information but it was a bit too much to take in all at once. So he focused on the important parts.

His lip quirked up in disbelief, shifting his weight onto one leg and resting his hands on his waist. It was a stance Asher would have seen many a time before.

"I'm Italian?"

"And how," Asher replied with a nod. "That's what you choose to focus on? Your nationality?"

"I find it hard to believe you're telling the truth when I clearly don't have an Italian accent," he pointed out, as he passed Asher and disappeared into the other room. It was clear he wasn't going to find any answers here. "I can't even speak it. And as for having a friend called Benton?" He huffed with amusement. "Don't make me laugh."

"...you're Italian American, you moron. You're from Chicago, so that's where you get your accent. And you can speak it, you just can't remember. Just like you couldn't even remember your own name."

Asher stayed put, assuming Ray was going to start with the clean up in the other room. He'd only be in the way.

"His name's not the funny part. You should see the uniform." It wasn't the uniform itself, really, since Asher actually found it strangely appealing. It was the fact that he still insisted on wearing it, even though he couldn't be further from Canada if he tried.

Ray, for lack of any better name to call him, tuned the guy out as soon as he left the room. Striding straight over to the door, he pushed it open without a second's thought and was met with two paws diving for his stomach.

With a yelp, he stumbled back, batting the dog away, heart thundering in his ears from the shock. It barked playfully, tail wagging so manically Ray thought it might fly right off.

"Jesus Christ, get off me," he warned, trying to pass, only to have the dog get in his way each time. "This isn't fun anymore!"

Asher rolled his eyes once he heard the commotion. He none too happily got to his feet and walked to the other room, even when all he really wanted to day was set his mattress back in its rightful spot and go to bed, hopping this would all just fix itself over night. He didn't have that kind of luck, though.

"That's yours," he said, moving over to the pair and forcing the dog back outside and the door shut again. "It stays outside for a reason. And did you think I was joking about the mess? Because I wasn't. I refuse to wake up and have all of this still looking like a disaster area. What the hell were you looking for? Your marbles?"

"Ha ha, that's funny. Back up a second." Ray made no move to start helping with the clean up. As far as he was concerned, this guy had no proof he was even the one to have caused the mess. "You said I live here. Why the hell would you be waking up here too?"

"...roommates?" Asher offered, not particularly concerned with even trying to sell the response as fact.

"Any other questions?" Probably only about a million.

"Which bed do you sleep in?" He ground out when he heard Asher's tone. Ray knew which bed he'd woken up in and as far as he could see, there was only one mattress.

"The one with the upturned mattress." It might have been Ray's hut, but that bed was his, and he'd be damned if he'd let Ray believe otherwise.

Ray studied him for a moment, then tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. He had no interest in encouraging whatever stunt this Asher guy was trying to pull.

"Is that so," he commented noncommittally, giving Asher a once over that wasn't particularly appreciative.

Throwing up his palms, he backed away again towards the door. "Whatever sick game this is, I don't wanna play. I'll take my chances out there with the dog."

"Whatever. Just don't wander into dino territory." If he didn't want to believe him, that was his problem. He'd come back when his memory and senses did. "Like I said, though, you are wearing my clothes. So wrap your head around that one while you wander around aimlessly."

With that, he opened the door for him himself. "Take that with you," he said, just as the dog rushed in and pounced on Ray again.

for Asher

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