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The town was busy at night as usual. Though the outside was quiet, if you got close enough to the front door of a house, whispered chatter could be heard inside.
Candles illuminated the houses, the windows lit up by the golden light as shadows of movement danced by the fire. The soft gaze of the moon was the only source of light outside but despite the lack of artificial lighting, his surroundings were still distinguishable because of the pure white snow.
Walking past where the town members reside, he couldn't help but catch certain things from the corner of his eyes.
He could feel the lookout's gaze burning the back of his neck as he walked by the house they were watching. Just before he went past, he quickly looked over to the bush where the man was hiding at and glanced at him nonchalantly as he continued walking. He heard a quiet rustle in the bush and it was obvious that the lookout was startled by the fact that he effortlessly spotted him in his pitch black surroundings.
Two houses over, he could barely distinguish a figure blending in with his surroundings, obviously holding a knife which reflected light off it pristine surface. He hesitantly slowed down his pace as he struggled to make out the figure in the dark. As he made eye contact with the dead eyes of the Serial Killer, everything in the man's gaze screamed 'back off', and so, that's what Luke did.
He looked away from the house and continued walking towards the familiar path he's been taking at night hours for weeks now. He knew that the unsuspecting victim inside the house that the Serial Killer visited was going to show up dead at the town square the following morning. The thought should've haunted Luke, terrifying him down to his core, but surprisingly, it didn't feel out of place.
He shook his head, 'it can't be.'
He decided to ignore the thoughts that plagued his mind and looked up to the sky, observing the scenery in an attempt to distract himself.
Huge amounts of snow descended from the ominous gray skies and he felt goosebumps rising on his skin. The biting cold air made his fingertips feel numb and the tip of his nose started to turn red because of the exposure. As he sighed, his hot breath colluded with the cold air and fogged up in front of his face. He frowned as he tried to brush away the snow which landed and seeped through the bandages wrapped around his head; The doctor would surely be mad if he found out that he snuck out again.
He hugged his thin coat tighter around himself as he tried to stay as warm as he could. He knew he probably should have stayed inside but it wasn't as if he had all the time in the world. His legs ached for some rest as he walked across the littered path.
He knew that he wasn't in the best shape. All that the Doctor told him about what apparently happened was that the Transporter attempted to transport him to another location but along the way, he got attacked by the Serial Killer and lost control of the car he was driving. It just so happened that Luke got randomly picked that night and got in a terrible crash, but luckily, he ended up in the Doctor's arms.
That was four weeks ago. He should've recovered a little bit by now but this town didn't necessarily offer the best services nor was it the most hospitable. Murder and crime terrorized every vicinity and no one was ever safe on their own. Protective roles like the Doctor or the Bodyguard were important to the town but even their lives were at risk because of their jobs.
Everyone didn't have a lot of money and this was especially the case for Luke himself. He couldn't get a job. No one wanted a man who couldn't remember who he was.
After walking for a few more minutes, he ended up in the graveyard.
He took in the scenery before him. Seeing the broken gravestones with worn names and chiseled last words on them sure wasn't comforting but at least it felt familiar.
He sometimes imagined lying in one of the coffins, under a different name and identity. What would it be like if he was like one of these dead people? What if he lived his life under a different name that wasn't his?
He sat down on the stone bench. It was just as broken and worn out as his memories and he couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. He hoped that whoever he was in the past wasn't idiotic enough to take his memories for granted. It was painful enough not knowing anyone else, and it sure as hell was even tougher only being able to recall your own name and nothing else about yourself.
He stared wistfully at the gravestones. He's always prayed for the accused members of the mafia who the town didn't even give a proper headstone. He looked over the area once more and just as he was about to turn back around, he spotted a fresh gravestone, one unlike any other.
"Here lies... Luke Patterson?" He hummed, "The Godfather who conspired against the town?" He mumbled, thinking deeply about how fitting it felt like to say that.
He kneeled down in front of the stone, staring at the name which struck a chord in him. He reached out his hand, moving it closer to feel the gravestone and as he was about to lay his palm flat against the surface, a twig snapping behind him broke him out of his trance and he jumped back, startled by the noise.
He glared at the person who smiled at him calmly, "Who are you?" he growled.
The man wore a formal outfit, one that looked too expensive and clean and it made it obvious that he didn't belong with the town members.
"My name is Ryan," the man in the black suit sat down on the bench, "Sit with me?" he asked and Luke couldn't help but nod.
Everything about this man felt familiar. His voice, his hair, his... everything. It feels like he's known him for a long time. He started approaching Ryan apprehensively before sitting down next to him but still making sure to put some distance in between them
"I've seen you in the crowd during the trials. What's your story?" Ryan asked, the smile still not falling from his lips.
"Got into an accident or something. I don't know, I don't remember anything, nor anyone. Not even myself," Before he could even stop himself from talking, the words spilled out of his mouth before he could do anything about it. It was strange, he's never said this much to the Doctor himself and the fact that he was willing to spill everything to a stranger scared him. Who knows? This man might be out here to kill him.
"Does Jonathan Smith ring a bell?"
Hit breath hitched and he subconsciously nodded in confusion, "The uh... Investigator?"
Ryan cleared his throat, "The Disguiser, actually."
"You're... a part of the mafia?" He knew in the back of his mind that he should've felt anger towards the mafia member, but all the hatred he knew he had wasn't present, or rather, he felt like it was unnecessary.
Ryan nodded nonchalantly, "Bryce, the man who has been tending to you is not a Doctor. He's the Consort who knows a thing or two about medical stuff."
"Why are you telling me this?" He asked, frustrated. There was so much he didn't know, so much that he was dying to find out about himself and so far, Ryan was the only one who seemed to have answers.
"Why, you ask?" The brunette chuckled, "Well, what if I told you that you're Luke?"
"I know my name is Luke," he deadpanned and Ryan couldn't help but giggle in response much to Luke's dismay.
"No, silly. I meant that you're Luke Patterson, the Godfather."
The world seemed to have crashed on Luke's shoulders as the realization hit.
He knew that the sense of familiarity and his lack of wariness towards Bryce and Ryan were oddly comfortable but he didn't expect to be much closer to them than he thought. Seeing Jonathan's gravestone also made him feel a deep sense of anger and sorrow in his gut, something he never really felt before, or at least something he didn't recall feeling.
His dreams for the past couple of nights made sense; the emerald green eyes which belonged to Ryan, the golden blonde hair framing Bryce's face perfectly in an effortless way, and a black-haired man, struggling to cover his blue orbs with brown contact lenses yet still laughing boisterously at his stupid jokes.
Luke's heart clenched in sadness, he left his family to fend for themselves without even realizing what he'd done.
"Why didn't Bryce tell me?"
"We wanted to give the town false hope. But let's worry about that for later." Ryan embraced Luke and buried his nose in between his neck and shoulders. Luke returned the hug tightly, not even realizing how much he had craved for Ryan's presence.
"Shh, don't cry babe," Luke whispered with a newly found confidence in his voice, one that even surprised him, "We'll make them pay for Jon's death. Make 'em pay the price tenfold."
His whispers seemed to have calmed Ryan down. They don't know how long they lay on the stone bench for but all that they knew was that they were content being in each others presence, watching the stars twinkle in the pitch black sky and the snow glow in the moonlight.
They walked home that night and as they knocked on the front door of their headquarters, the call was answered by a happy looking Bryce who seemed to have been expecting their arrival. Though he was annoyed that they were both shivering because of their wet clothes, he still didn't fail to do his job of making sure that they stayed warm and comfortable. They all cared about each other and that was what mattered.
But most of all, Luke was back and though Jonathan wasn't with them to celebrate the return of their beloved Godfather, they all knew that he was watching somewhere, cheering them on like he used to.
fin.