-Alastor's point of view-

I sat at my little table in the apartment, staring out the window at the beautiful night sky with a pen in my hand. I composed a letter to someone who I barely remembered.

Dear Jeff,

I hope you're doing well. Most of my memory is gone and I feel very lost. I hope you don't mind my asking, but would you mind meeting in my home on Earth to chat? I miss having full recollection and since you're my guardian angel, I think you might know the most about my life.

Sincerely yours,

A. Glass

I folded the letter, setting it aside before turning on the record player. The first song that played was La Vie En Rose.

I had to sit down as memories flooded into my mind.

Memories of Angel's smile, laughter from both me and him intermingling, the sounds of a newborn baby, nights spent cuddling, singing together, dancing, his hands resting on my waist, my hands on his cheeks, warm kisses, some of our lazy talks in front of the television, dressing up and going to clubs on nights when they were hosting swing dancing, the way his face fit perfectly in my hands, the texture of his hair, all of it.

I remembered so much, I sat there panting for a while as the song finished. I remembered my husband. I remembered when Mercy was just an hour old. I remembered our tickle fights. I remembered how we fit together like puzzle pieces. I remembered our wedding.

I let out a choked sob as pure joy hit. I knew I was probably still missing a lot of things, but I had so much more than I had just an hour ago. I pulled out the ring I had taken off because I hadn't had any idea how important it was to me when I was freshly wiped of all memory. I put that ring back on my finger and I sat there, crying with relief and joy.

I managed to stop crying before I put my jacket back on, grabbing the phone that Mercy gave me today and my pencils and paper. I took the needle off the record before going on a walk to the estate. Angel would probably be asleep by now, since it's ten at night and I'm not really planning on talking to him. I just want to see him and maybe draw him.

I climbed the vines to the balcony to our bedroom, peeking in at my husband who was sleeping peacefully in a sleeping bag on the floor. I sat down on the balcony, opening my sketchbook and I started to draw him, my pencil gliding across the grain of the paper. When I finished the drawing, I signed it with my first initial and wrote a little note to him against my better judgement. I slipped it under the door, making Amaro go in and turn off the lights in the room so Angel would sleep better.

I went back to my apartment, humming La Vie En Rose to myself