I packed the watch back into its box, then placed it in the bag. Food was next on my agenda. I didn't know how long it had been since I ate, but hunger was gnawing at my gut. The idea of a big, heavy meal tempted me, but I knew if I gave in to it, I'd get sleepy, which could be dangerous. I didn't know if anyone was after me or if I was relatively in the clear. The thought was sobering, and I promised myself to be more careful.

I tucked myself away in a diner, ordered an omelet, and sipped coffee. No one seemed out of place; most travelers were chugging caffeine against the early morning hours of their journey. I succumbed to boredom and poked around on my phone, doing internet and social media searches of myself. I was a mystery.

My food eaten and paid for, I hefted my bag and fresh coffee-to-go and headed to my gate, stopping to buy a book along the way. At the gate, I settled in again and began reading, discretely looking around me for any odd behavior. I saw none; to everyone else, I was just a regular joe, traveling with nothing special. This was good.

I thought about the watch and the symbols I saw on it. Nothing had been familiar except the watch face I was used to. I wished I knew what it did and what it was for. Alex had said the team would help me. I could only hope that was the case since he had died for it. I didn't want to suffer the same fate.

~

The flight to Zurich was uneventful, and I slept much of the way. I dreamed about Alex off and on, snippets of memory that solidified my sense of loss. I felt guilty for just leaving him behind; I knew it was the nature of the job, but he deserved better.

I disembarked along with the rest of the passengers but needed to figure out where to go. My only real choice was to head to the main exit and then on to a hotel. I didn't know how the team would contact me.

I needn't have worried; as soon as I emerged from the secured terminal area, I spied a smartly dressed man in a suit holding a sign with my and Alex's names on it. I took a risk and approached him.

"I'm Ethan Johnson," I said as I walked up.

He looked me over, a haughty expression. He apparently did not approve. "Yes, Mr. Johnson. I am Baines, and I am to escort you to headquarters. Do you have any checked luggage?" His voice was as elegant as he was, and his speech, while accented, was clear. I instantly disliked him.

"No," I said, hefting the duffle, "this is all I have."

"Will Mr. Smith be joining us?"

"No," I stated but didn't elaborate, swallowing past the lump in my throat. It didn't seem prudent to announce he was dead while standing in the airport.

"Would you like me to carry your bag for you?" he asked, scowling.

"No, I will hang on to it if you don't mind."

"Very good. If you will come with me, the car is waiting."

We made our way curbside to get into an upscale black sedan. As the driver wove us through the city's traffic, Baines asked questions, most of which I couldn't answer due to the memory issues. By the time we got to the high-rise building downtown, both of us were angry. He for not getting answers and me for being blamed for not having them.

We descended into the car parking garage under the building and around the corner to the nearest set of elevators. I followed Baines out of the car and watched as he pressed his wrist up to a sensor on the elevator. It dinged, and I was surprised when the car began to descend further since no buttons marked deeper levels.

The ride was just long enough for me to feel uncomfortable riding in silence. I was thankful when the car dinged again and slowed, opening the door on a well-appointed corridor with elegant walls and marble floors. Certainly, Baines belonged in the space. I, in my jeans and t-shirt, did not. Perhaps that's what his judgemental stare had been about.

We paused at the end of the hall in front of the door on the right. Once again, he pressed his wrist against some kind of sensor, and I heard the door unlock. I don't know what I expected of the space behind the door, but the bustling hive of activity that greeted me wasn't it.

We passed through a second set of glass doors and into the room full of people and monitors. A distinguished man emerged from the offices on the left and came to us. He held his hand out and smiled warmly.

"Agent Johnson. Welcome back to Zurich. It is so good to see you again. Is Agent Smith with you?"

I cleared my throat. "Alex is dead."

The man slumped. "So, the deal went south then. Damnit."

I patted the duffle bag. "It didn't go entirely south. I have the artifact. But I don't remember anything that happened. Alex said that he had to strike some sort of bargain for it and that you all would help me figure things out."

His eyes were wide. "You have the artifact?"

Baines' head snapped around. "You didn't tell me that!"

I scowled. "You didn't ask me."

Baines snapped his fingers at a passing woman in a smart-looking pencil skirt. "Get Dr. Müller. Tell him artifact number twelve has been located. We need him in the gate room immediately."

The woman's eyes widened, and she mouthed, "Oh!" before she scampered off to do as she was told.

The older man reached out and clasped my shoulder. "The loss of your partner saddens me. He was a good agent, and I know you have been through a lot together."

A memory of a laughing Alex emerged in my mind. He was thumping me on my back, congratulating me for a score I'd made on the goalie in the company soccer game. The world went a little watery, and I smiled my thanks and nodded, unable to speak.

The man squeezed once more before letting go. "Now, come on. Dr. Roseau can help with your memory issues. Let's go find her." He turned and led me past all the activity down a small side hall to a door at the end. Once again, I was amazed at what I found past the door. This time, it seemed to be an entire hospital ward.

When we walked in, a petite woman in a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck looked up from the chart she was studying with someone in hospital blue scrubs. A smile spread across her face, lighting it up in a way that warmed my insides. Her red hair was up off her neck in a french twist, and she wore dark cat-eye glasses that were sexy as hell. She handed the chart off and came our way, much to the thrill of my pounding heart.

"Dr. Roseau," the man with me said, "Ethan is having trouble with his memory after a mission. Can you help?"

Her smile faltered a bit, and I felt an overwhelming need to apologize. But a memory flashed, and I saw her sitting across an elegant table from me in an upscale restaurant. It was followed quickly by a more intimate memory of the two of us in bed together.

I smiled at her. "I remember some things," I hinted.

She blushed and looked up at me. "I hope so. I want to keep making memories."

I instinctively reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Technically, I really shouldn't have touched her, given that she was a coworker, but I couldn't help myself. "Me, too."

The man next to me chuckled. "Well, I'll leave you in Dr. Roseau's care then. When you're memory returns, we will need to debrief. Now, where is the artifact?"

Without taking my eyes off of my doctor, I unslung the duffle bag from my shoulder and held it out for the man to take. "It's the watch in the leather box."

"Does it seem to function?" he asked as he took the bag.

"I'm not sure. The face changed when I messed with it, but it didn't really do anything else." I looked at him. "What is it supposed to do?"

"It's the controller of the gate. With it, we can travel across the galaxy."

I blinked. "Did you say galaxy?"

"Yes," he paused and nodded toward our red-headed companion. "Dr. Roseau will help you remember. We'll debrief then and plan our next moves."

She grabbed my upper arm and tugged. "Come on, Ethan. Let's get you settled in a room."

I melted at her touch. "Okay." I allowed her to steer me away toward a room on the left as the man took the artifact away. I felt a little concerned about not having it in my possession anymore but knew it was because I'd seen so much risked for it.

She shut the room's door gently but stayed by it, some distance from me, as I stood by the bed. "Do you remember me?" she said in a low voice.

My stomach clenched. I knew honesty was the best way to go. "I remember us having dinner and then being in bed together. I remember how I felt when I was with you. Your presence is... positively overwhelming, in a good way. You seemed to feel the same."

She closed the gap between us. "I do." Her hand settled on my chest firmly. "Very much."

I snaked a hand behind her head and pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips were soft, and I moaned at the taste of the gloss on them. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I pulled her close, losing myself in her scent as we kissed. It wasn't until the door opened that we broke it and pulled away, breathless.

"Oh!" said the nurse who was bringing in a chart. She giggled. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

My redhead smiled and adjusted her hair and stethoscope. "It's okay, Katie. This is Ethan."

Katie's grin grew wider. "That Ethan?"

The doctor blushed again. "Yes." She cleared her throat. "He's been away on a mission and has lost his memory due to the knockout drug."

Katie chuckled. "Well, he seems to remember the important parts."

It was my turn to blush, and I felt it rise from my collar and spread to the tips of my ears.

Katie laughed again. "I'll go get the memory cart." She exited the room, and pulled the door shut behind her.