The sterile smell of antiseptic burns my nostrils as I slowly regain consciousness. My head throbs with a dull, persistent pain, and when I try to move my fingers, they feel heavy and uncoordinated. A soft beeping sound fills the air, steady and rhythmic, like a metronome marking the seconds of my confusion.

I manage to crack open my eyes, squinting against the harsh fluorescent light. My vision swims for a moment before focusing on two figures slumped in chairs beside my bed. A woman with short blonde hair rests her head on a man's shoulder, both of them asleep. They look peaceful, but there's something about the way they're positioned—close, protective—that tugs at something deep inside me, a feeling I can't quite identify.

As if sensing my movement, the woman stirs. Her eyes flutter open, and when she sees me looking at her, she gasps. "Eliot! He's awake! Eliot!"

The man jolts awake, his hand immediately finding mine as he leans forward. His touch is firm yet gentle, his calloused fingers pressing against my skin in a way that feels... right, somehow. Familiar.

"Hey, you're back with us," he says, his voice rough with emotion and something else—relief, maybe? "How are you feeling, Hardison?"

Hardison. The name sounds foreign on his lips, like it belongs to someone else. I search my mind for any trace of recognition, but there's nothing. Just an endless void where my memories should be.

"I... I don't know," I croak, my throat dry and scratchy. "Where am I? Who are you?"

The woman's face crumples, and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. Her touch is feather-light, sending a shiver down my spine despite my confusion. "You're in the hospital," she says softly. "I'm Parker. This is Eliot."

Parker and Eliot. The names mean nothing to me, yet my body reacts to them—my heart rate quickens, my breathing becomes shallower. The monitor beside the bed begins beeping faster, mirroring the panic rising within me.

"Hey, breathe," Eliot says, squeezing my hand. "Deep breaths, Alec. You're gonna be okay."

Alec. Another name. My name, perhaps? I try to process this information, but my head swims with questions. Who am I? What happened to me? And why do these two strangers look at me like I'm the most important person in the world?

Before I can ask any of these questions, a wave of dizziness washes over me. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, and when I open them again, Parker and Eliot are still there, watching me with expressions that blend hope and fear in equal measure.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words feeling inadequate. "I don't... I don't remember you."

Parker's lower lip trembles, but she manages a small, brave smile. "That's okay," she says. "We'll help you remember."

Eliot nods in agreement, his eyes never leaving mine. "We're not going anywhere, Hardison. We'll be right here."

And in that moment, despite the confusion and fear and the empty void where my memories should be, I believe them. There's something in their eyes, in the way they hold themselves close to my bed, that tells me these two strangers are my everything—even if I can't remember why.