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Chapter 21: Remember Me? (Please?)
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 10:15:37 +0000 UTCThe same Brooklyn café where Jay had met Bobby looked different in morning light—less like a place for secret meetings, more like where normal people grabbed coffee before work. Jay showed up fifteen minutes early and snagged a corner booth with a clear view of both doors. A habit he'd picked up from Bobby, who treated every public space like a potential battlefield.
He'd been watching the crowd for ten minutes when his eyes passed over some guy at the counter. Completely ordinary—brown hair, forgettable face, the kind of person you'd walk past without a second glance.
Jay's gaze started to move on, then snapped back hard as something in his head went ping—like his mind shield had just blocked a punch.
He blinked, and suddenly the man's name surfaced through whatever fog had been clouding his thoughts.
Xabi.
ForgetMeNot.
The guy who lived in the spaces between memories.
Jay's comic book knowledge kicked in with all the details. Professor X had to surgically implant a mental alarm in his own brain just to remember this man existed. Even then, Xavier could only hold onto the memory for minutes before Xabi faded back into the forgotten corners of his mind.
Xabi had already paid and was heading for the exit when Jay called out.
"Xabi."
The coffee cup nearly slipped from the man's hands. He turned around slow, like he was moving through a dream, eyes wide with something between hope and terror.
"You remember my name."
It came out like the most important question in the world.
Jay waved him over. "Come sit. We should talk."
Xabi walked to the booth like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he moved too fast. Up close, the toll was obvious—dark circles under his eyes, the hollow look of someone carrying weight that no one else could see.
"You're the first," Xabi said, voice cracking. "Besides Xavier, you're the first person to say my name without someone reminding you I exist."
Jay tapped his temple. "Psychic defenses. Your power makes people forget, but my mind's got some built-in resistance."
"Mental shields." Xabi let out a bitter laugh. "I should have figured that out myself, except I can never talk to anyone long enough to work through the problem."
The café hummed with conversations around them, but their corner felt isolated. Probably Xabi's power making their talk literally forgettable to anyone listening.
"So about what we discussed yesterday," Jay said gently.
Xabi's face crumpled. "I just want to hug my mom again and have her remember me afterward."
The raw pain in those words hit Jay like a punch to the gut.
"How long since you've been home?"
"Three years. I've tried visiting—stood right next to her in the grocery store, helped her reach stuff from high shelves. She thanked me, looked right at me, and the second I walked away..." Xabi's hands tightened around his cup. "Gone. Like I was never there."
Jay had lost his parents, but at least they'd remembered him while they were alive. This was different—a kind of living death where you got erased from every moment as it happened.
"I can help," Jay said.
Xabi's head shot up. "What?"
"I suppress powers. Did it yesterday for a friend—let him feel human for a few seconds. I could do the same for you. Give you a conversation with your family that they'll actually remember."
The hope that spread across Xabi's face was almost painful to watch. "You could really do that?"
"Temporarily. I'd need to keep touching you to maintain it, so it'll look weird. But yeah, I could give you that."
Xabi stared into his coffee for a long moment, like the answer was floating in there somewhere.
"What's it going to cost me?" he asked finally.
Smart question. Jay respected someone who understood that miracles came with price tags.
"Let's handle the reunion first," Jay said. "We'll talk about the rest after."
Xabi nodded. "There's a church. St. Mary's in the Bronx. My mom and sister go to eleven o'clock mass every Sunday. They've been going since..." He swallowed hard. "Since before I disappeared from their lives."
St. Mary's was one of those small neighborhood churches that had been holding communities together for decades. The Sunday service was ending when they arrived, families in their church clothes streaming out onto the steps.
Jay spotted them right away. The resemblance was subtle but unmistakable—a woman in her fifties with Xabi's eyes and a younger woman who had his nose. They were chatting with other parishioners, completely unaware their son and brother was watching from across the street.
"I've stood here before," Xabi said quietly. "Watched them leave, followed them home, sat in their living room during dinner. They never know."
"They will today," Jay promised.
He put his hand on Xabi's shoulder, concentrating. The suppression felt weird this time—less like flipping a switch, more like trying to grab smoke.
"Okay," Jay said through gritted teeth. "Let's go. But I have to keep contact, so this is going to look awkward."
They crossed the street together, Jay's hand firmly planted on Xabi's shoulder. They probably looked like someone helping a drunk friend, but it was working—people were actually seeing Xabi instead of looking right through him.
"Mama?"
The woman turned at her son's voice, and Jay watched her expression cycle through confusion, recognition, and pure joy in about two seconds.
"Xabi! Mi niño!" She threw herself at him, and Jay had to scramble to keep his grip while she wrapped her son in a crushing hug. "Where have you been? We've been so worried!"
Xabi's sister went white. "Xabi? Oh my God, Xabi!" She joined the hug, tears streaming. "We thought something happened when you stopped calling, stopped visiting. We looked for you, but I can't remember... when did we stop?"
"I'm okay," Xabi whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm right here. I'm sorry I was gone."
Jay stood there like the world's most awkward third wheel, maintaining his grip on Xabi's shoulder while trying to give the family space. Other church members were staring, some coming over to welcome back what they figured was a prodigal son.
For almost an hour, Jay held the suppression. His head felt like someone was using it for drumming practice, sweat dripping down his face, but he held on. Xabi needed this. His family needed this.
They talked about everything—Xabi's mother scolded him for not staying in touch (which created this weird loop where she forgot why he couldn't call), his sister showed him photos of her new place, his mother started planning Sunday dinner for next week.
Finally, Jay couldn't take it anymore. "Xabi," he said quietly. "I have to let go."
The panic that flashed across Xabi's face was heartbreaking, but he nodded. He hugged his mother and sister one more time, told them he loved them, then stepped back as Jay released his shoulder.
Jay watched it happen—the exact moment Xabi faded from their awareness. His mother and sister looked around confused, like they'd forgotten why they were standing there. After a moment, they shrugged and headed for their car, talking about lunch.
Xabi stood frozen, watching them drive away without looking back.
"They'll remember pieces," Jay said gently. "For a few hours, maybe longer. It'll feel like a dream they can't quite catch, but the emotions will stick."
"It's more than I've had in three years," Xabi said, wiping his eyes. "Thank you. I don't know how to pay you back for something like this."
Jay was quiet, watching Xabi's family disappear around the corner. The calculating part of his brain had been running the whole time—cataloging possibilities, measuring what he'd just seen, weighing its value.
"Actually," Jay said, "there is something."
Xabi turned, and Jay saw the resignation in his eyes. He'd known this was coming.
"There's a man. Isaiah Bradley. Lives in Baltimore. Government watches him too closely for someone like me to get near." Jay met his gaze without flinching. "I need a blood sample."
All the color drained from Xabi's face. "Isaiah Bradley. The black Captain America. The one they experimented on."
"You know him?"
"Xavier briefed us on the super soldier programs. Bradley's one of the few who survived the experiments." Xabi was quiet for a moment. "You want his blood for the serum."
Not a question.
"I want it for research," Jay said. "To understand how it works, how it might mix with other enhancements."
Xabi stared at him for a long time. Jay could see the war playing out—gratitude for what Jay had done fighting against what he was being asked to do.
"He's an old man," Xabi said finally. "He's suffered enough."
"One vial," Jay said. "He'll never know it happened. You could be in and out without anyone remembering you were there—including him."
"And if I say no?"
Jay shrugged, keeping his face neutral. "Then you say no. I'm not threatening you, Xabi. What happened today was a gift, not a trade."
But they both knew the truth. Xabi would never find another person who could give him what Jay just had. And Jay was betting that taste of being remembered—of existing in his family's world, even briefly—would be enough.
Xabi closed his eyes, and Jay could practically hear his principles cracking.
"Send me the address," Xabi said quietly. "I'll figure out how to get what you need."
They split up at the subway. Jay waited until Xabi disappeared in the crowd before texting Isaiah Bradley's Baltimore address. He paused for just a second before hitting send, then saved Xabi's number in his phone.
Not under his name. Under "Asset."
Jay kept thinking about the look in Xabi's mother's eyes when she'd recognized her son. Pure joy, no confusion or worry for those precious minutes. Xabi had existed completely in someone else's world.
And Jay had made it happen.
The guilt tried to surface—he'd just manipulated a desperate man into targeting an elderly war hero. Isaiah Bradley wasn't some random name—he was a symbol, a victim, someone who'd already given more than anyone should have to.
But Jay pushed the feeling down. He'd gotten good at that.
This wasn't about right and wrong. This was about building what he needed to survive in a world that saw people like him as weapons or threats. Isaiah Bradley's blood could unlock physical enhancement, and physical enhancement could make his other powers actually viable.
As for Xabi... Jay had given him something no one else could. Something precious. If it came with strings, well, that was just how miracles worked in the real world.
Jay pulled up his phone and started researching government surveillance systems. If Xabi was going to pull this off, he'd need more than just an address. And if this worked, Jay would have a full list of high-value targets—places with data or tech that Xabi could slip into like smoke.
After all, forgettable didn't mean powerless. In the right hands, it was basically a cheat code.
Jay just had to keep telling himself his were the right hands.
